Summary: Dean has to decide to save you or Lisa. (Set during 6x21)
Warnings: Oh boy, this one’s sad; get ready. Mentions of blood, torture, death, some spoilers and brief cursing.
A/N: I’ve been planning this angst for a while. Let me know how I did :)
“Coffee?” Dean offers, handing you a steaming cup. You grin; you’ve been researching this journal for hours and you need caffeine as soon as possible.
When you tap a sip, you splutter, choking on the liquid. “Dean Winchester, is there whisky in this?” He gives you a cheeky smile before shrugging playfully.
His happiness doesn’t last long before the phone rings. Dean’s face morphs into a state of horror in a matter of seconds.
As he hangs up, you look at him cautiously. “Dean?”
“Crowley took Lisa and Ben.”
“Hey”, you whisper, putting a gentle hand on Dean’s tense shoulder. His green eyes barely flicker toward yours. “We’ll get them out. Don’t worry.”
He only grunts in response, shaking out of your grip roughly. “Let’s go.”
The three of you slip into the warehouse, all splitting up. Sam gives you a cautious look, but Dean doesn’t look back. You have to admit, it stings. You and Dean hadn’t taken the final step to an actual relationship- you just stayed as really close friends. You had thought you had a chance, that is, until Sammy fell in the pit and Lisa and Ben kept him for over a year.
Regardless of the hurt you feel in you chest, you keep moving, keeping your salt gun aimed. It’s oddly quiet, that is, until you hear the sounds of multiple gunshots.
You swiftly head over to the sounds, noticing this is where Dean was passing. Stepping over the bodies of multiple demons, you head into the room.
You arrive just in time to hear Lisa, or presumably a demon possessing Lisa, taunt Dean and Ben, holding a knife under her son’s chin.
You see Dean’s face morph into one of agony as her words sink in. You can’t take it any longer, so you aim your gun at her head.
Dean seems to hear and see you before yelling, “Y/N, don’t!”
Lisa’s head turns toward you, flicking her hand and crashing you down the stairs. Your vision blackens as soon as you hit the ground.
When you open your eyes again, you see Dean and Ben leaning over Lisa’s bleeding body.
“Ben, grab the salt gun. I have to carry your mom.” Dean’s voice is like maple syrup- deep and thick.
Ben hesitates before meekly asking, “What about her?”
Dean pauses for what seems like hours, but was probably only a few seconds.
At first, you can’t believe your ears. You and Dean were like glue, and have been for ages. He was the guy you know you could rely on.
You see Dean’s boots as he rushes past you. He doesn’t even look down.
With that, you vision goes black once again.
Dean sits in the hospital, gently holding Lisa’s cold hand. The doctors said she wouldn’t wake up, but he had hope.
Sam had pleaded with him to go back to help you, but he only responded with a “She’s tough. She’ll be fine. You’re not going in there alone.” Angrily, Sam had left the hospital, presumably to get coffee.
That is, until he got a phone call. He reluctantly lets go of Lisa’s hand before heading outside the room to answer the call.
“What?” He asks roughly, tone sharp and crude.
“D-Dean”, your voice shocks him a little, “I need help.” There’s a pause and choking, sounding like you’re coughing up blood.
Dean curses before looking over at Lisa. She’s safe now, he reassures himself before grabbing his coat and car keys.
When he arrives, the warehouse is silent, and the bodies are still there from yesterday. His wet boots squeak on the hard floor as he takes careful steps.
When he enters the room Lisa and Ben were in, he sees your battered body tied to a chair with your head lolled to the side. There’s blood everywhere- on your face, on your shirt, on your arms and legs.
He gently shakes your shoulder. “Hey, I got you”, he says while grabbing Ruby’s knife and slicing the ropes that held you in place. Your eyes glance up to meet his. “My hero”, you whisper, before your eyes flash black.
With your arm lifted, Dean flies to the pillar next to him, pinning him in place.
“It’s about time, Deano”, you tease, grabbing the knife that Dean had dropped.
He struggles against your strength, but to no avail. “Leave her alone”, he growls, his eyes and jaw hard.
You laugh hysterically, tracing the knife along Dean’s face. “Like you care! From what I recall, you left her here for…”, you look at your cracked watch sarcastically, “about 12 hours.”
You see Dean’s expression turn into guilt. Had it really been that long?
“Cat got your tongue? What’s the matter, Deano? Feeling sorry yet?” You mock, pouting dramatically. He stays silent, looking at the floor in shame. “You know what’s funny, Dean?” He looks up at you reluctantly. “I didn’t have to try very hard to torture her. I mean, come on, one of the only guys she’s cared about leaves her to save another girl? It’s priceless! Also, a little too easy, for my taste.”
Dean gulps thickly, tears forming in his eyes. “Gonna cry, Dean? Well get ready, because shit’s about to get real sad”, you smile raising the knife towards his throat.
Before you can land the final blow, your body stops, and your face contorts in pain as you fight to gain control of your own body.
You shakily lower your arms as Dean takes a deep breath and is released to the floor. Your body is shaking terribly, the demon already taking control again.
You know you don’t have a lot of time. This demon is one of the strongest you’ve faced. If it takes control again, you know Dean’s blood would be on your hands forever. You know what you have to do.
You look into Dean’s beautiful eyes and whisper “I’m sorry”, before plunging the knife into your stomach.
You and the demon screech as the demon fizzles out of your body. You slump to the ground, knife leaving your hand as you struggle to breath.
“Y/N, oh God”, Dean chokes out, crawling to your dying body. He puts his hands firmly on the wound futilely, his tears dropping in your face and shirt. “You’re going to be okay, it’s going to be okay. Stay with me. We can go to Bobby’s after you’re better and watch shitty movies all day, your favorites, come on babygirl, hold on”, he rambles, his eyes not leaving yours.
“It’s okay, Dean”, you pause as you cough up more blood. With your heart swelling for the last time, your last dying breath goes to a simple phrase.
“I love you.”
When Sam comes five minutes later, all he can see is Dean sobbing over your pale, crumpled body, simple ‘I love you too’s leaving his brother’s lips and filling the cold, dusty air.
(Want to be added or removed from any tag list? Let me know!)
Hello, if you're still taking prompts could you do #33 with Marichat or Ladynoir? (BTW love your stories!)
This is horribly overdue. I’m so sorry this took so long, I was caught up with other stories, life, and just recently suffered a bad case of writer’s block :/ I picked the Ladynoir side of the love square (although it’s probably not in the way you’re thinking). Still, I hope you enjoy this :)
about you makes me want to commit extreme violence.”
You may not know it, but being a noblewoman could be very
difficult at times.
Such were the Lady Marinette’s thoughts as she finally
managed to sneak away to the snack table. A young Lord had been trying to
request a dance with her for the better part of ten minutes, causing her to
nearly flee every time he came in her sights. Luckily, just when she thought
she was cornered, she was able to pair him with her best friend.
“I’m going to kill you,” Lady Alya had silently mouthed when
she was led to the dance floor.
Marinette giggled to herself as she swiped a chocolate chip
cookie from the very top of the pile on the silver tray. Not many women were
eating them in order to ‘maintain their figure’ but Marinette didn’t really
care about that. She’d eat what she wanted, whenever she wanted.
She looked around at the sea of guests, at all the colorful
masks that adorned their faces. Her parents decided to host a masquerade ball,
thinking it to be romantic and mysterious. Marinette thought that the idea was
intriguing, but she didn’t really think anyone to be romantic or mysterious. It
was just like any other ball she’d been to, with no one in particular standing
out among the crowd.
She wanted to tell her parents that real life was vastly
different from fairy tales, but she knew it would crush their hearts,
especially since they wanted her to have a whirlwind romance of her own.
Marinette sighed in defeat, resigning herself to picking out
a stranger to dance with just to appease her hopeless romantic parents.
“Is the princess not having a good time?” a masculine voice
Startled, her head whipped around to see a man leaning
against a nearby pillar. He wore the traditional finely-made garb befitting of
someone of the noble class, yet it was completely black, save the swirling
designs of green beside the buttons on the otherwise coal black jacket.
Around his equally green eyes sat a black domino mask, but
with cat ears on the ends. His blond hair lacked a refined style, instead the
golden locks were wildly tousled. However, instead of looking like a common
vagrant, the look suited him perfectly.
His lips were stretched into a wide smile, a row of
pearly-white teeth exposed in the process. She noticed the man had rather
nicely chiseled features. This, combined with all his other traits, made him
However, her heart was already taken.
“I am not a princess, sir,” she replied, a corner of her
mouth arching in interest. She had a feeling that whoever this man was, he was
going to prove to be riveting company.
“You could’ve fooled me, with how every man’s eyes are
fixated on you alone,” he purred flirtatiously, abandoning his spot by the
column to saunter closer to her.
She snorted in mirth, finding that she liked this stranger.
Sure, his flirting was a little over-the-top, but it wasn’t at all creepy like
how some lords spoke.
“I find that hard to believe,” she disputed with a grin. “It
doesn’t matter anyway, since I’m not interested in any of them.”
“Too good for them?” he asked. His tone was still teasing,
yet his eyes shined with something else. For a moment she thought it seemed
like he was testing her, but she quickly wrote it off as paranoia.
“No, it’s not that. The person that I really want to dance
with isn’t here,” she admitted. She had a mask on, so no one except for Alya
knew who she really was. So she supposed it was okay to tell a few truths for
one night, provided she was careful, of course.
She sighed, recalling how her statement had been all too
true. Prince Adrien was far out of reach, and honestly she shouldn’t have
expected him to show up to her modest estate, even if it was for a ball. She
met him a few months ago when his father had invited all the noble families to
a formal dinner, hers included.
They didn’t get off on the right foot, though.
When it was time for the dinner, she ended up being one of
the last few to enter the dining room. She had been caught up in a conversation
with Alya in the sitting room beforehand, delaying her arrival. When she did
show, she was dismayed when she found a splash of red wine decorating the
bottom of her cherry wood chair, with the Crown Prince himself squatting next
Since she couldn’t berate him without receiving a harsh
reprimand, she chose to coldly glare at him as she picked up a napkin from her
place on the table to wipe it. Prince Adrien tried to stutter something out,
something probably apologetic, but she silently rebutted every attempt for speaking.
Finally, when the dinner was over, it was discovered that it
had started to rain. It was sunny before, so naturally no one brought umbrellas
with them, thus resigning everyone to a wet and soaking fate.
However, right as she was about to step outside into the
steady rain, the Prince appeared…with a black umbrella in hand. He explained
that he was about to wipe off the wine when she had suddenly appeared. He
didn’t try to soil her dress at all, and was simply in the right place (to
clean the chair), but at the wrong time.
Hearing his honest words and expression persuaded her to
forgive him. Afterward, he gave her the umbrella to use so she wouldn’t get
And that was the moment when she fell in love with the sweet,
They saw each other a few more times after that. He was just
as friendly and amicable, but she could barely respond to him without
embarrassing stutters and stammers. He was perfect in her eyes, so excuse her
for being a little anxious to talk to him.
“Who do you admire that so rudely didn’t show up?” the
stranger asked with a quirk of his lips.
She shook her head. There was no way she could tell anyone
that she was interested in the Prince, mask or not.
“Sorry, but I can’t tell you that, Chat Noir.”
She supposed it was a good nickname; it suited him
considering his attire. Besides, she couldn’t keep mentally referring to him as
a stranger or just simply ‘he’.
“Chat Noir, hm?” he repeated, a far-away look appearing in
his eyes as he stared above her head, a finger tapping chin in thought.
He grinned, returning his attention to her.
“I like it. Although I suppose you need a nickname now, too.
How about…” he trailed off, inspecting her up and down to determine the perfect
moniker. Abruptly he snapped his fingers, something that Marinette didn’t
understand how he accomplished, considering he wore black gloves.
“Ladybug!” he exclaimed, smiling widely. “For your red dress
and black mask. And it’s also perfect since black cats are a symbol of bad luck
while ladybugs are for good luck. We’re like yin and yang, my Lady.”
The last two words rolled off his tongue in such an alluring
way that caused the Lady’s heartbeat to momentarily quicken. With a light
dusting of pink on her cheeks, she slightly shook her head, dismissing the
sudden spike of attraction for him. ‘Chat Noir’ was just a charmingly amusing
character, one that she didn’t romantically admire.
“Ladybug,” she echoed aloud, pursing her lips as she
considered the potential identity. It wasn’t until a few seconds later that she
seemingly decided, presenting Chat a coy smirk. “I like it.”
He mirrored her expression with a gleeful gleam of his own in
“I knew you would,” he boasted in jest, straightening his
shoulders and raising his chin in the air, giving off the appearance of a
conceited aristocrat. She smiled and rolled her eyes when he placed a flattered
hand over his heart. “Since everyone loves my ideas.”
“Really? And who would ‘everyone’ be?” she asked
sarcastically, playing his game. “The other stray tomcats in the village?”
“My Lady, whoever said I was a stray? For all you know, I
could be of royal pedigree.” His lips curved into a strangely unsettling smirk,
as though he knew something she didn’t. “For all you know, I could be the Crown
Marinette laughed, making sure to quickly press her lips
together as she brought a hand to her mouth, trying to politely cover up the
loud chortles. After all, it was rude for a well-bred lady to have her mouth
wide open in laughter. Women were supposed to be demure and polite, always
looking at their best.
She hated this social construct, yet she was doomed to follow
through with its requirements anyway.
Once her giggles died down, she turned to face the grinning
“I’ve met Prince Adrien before, and I can confidently say
that you’re nothing like him.”
“Indeed?” he remarked, almost sly.
“Yes, indeed,” she
insisted with another giggle. “Prince Adrien isn’t like you at all.”
“And if he was? Would you admire him any less?”
Marinette visibly flinched, taken aback by his conclusion.
With disbelieving eyes and reddened cheeks, she ducked her head down to avoid
his eyes. How did he realize she had feelings for the Prince? This was bad,
very bad…if he knew who she was he could tell Adrien, and then Adrien would
never love her back and word would spread and she would become the laughing stock
of the entire kingdom! She would be lonely for the rest of her life and die an
old maid, while Adrien would pick a beautiful and worthy princess to marry…
She forced herself to take a deep breath through her nose.
Marinette. Maybe you could convince him that he’s wrong.
With that mental pep talk, she straightened her shoulders and
faced him again.
“I don’t admire him, well, not more so than anyone else. I
don’t admire him in the sense that you’re thinking of.”
“Really? Because from what I hear you do admire him, more so than anyone else.” He smirked
wickedly, eliciting a nervous gulp from the stiffening maiden.
“The ‘how’ isn’t important,” he quickly dismissed with a
careless wave of his hand. “What matters is the ‘why’. Why do you fancy Prince Adrien?” He clasped his hands behind his back
before walking in front of her line of vision. She was positive that if they
were alone, he’d be circling her like a hawk about to catch its prey.
“Is it for his riches? His looks? His palace? Or is it simply
a matter of competition, in which you must win the grand prize?”
Marinette narrowed her eyes. Nevermind that this cocky feline
somehow knew who she was (he didn’t say her name, but he had heard of her
feelings for Prince Adrien, so therefore he must know her identity), but how
dare he assume her affections were based on purely artificial things?
“Something about you makes me want to commit extreme
violence,” she informed him, her tone hard as she crossed her arms in front of
“So it is true, then?” he guessed with a bitter grin,
followed by a scoff. “I guess our dear Prince will forever be resigned to a
life without true love. Pity, I heard he was interested in quite a lovely
woman, too. Warm, kind, a bit clumsy, but beautiful inside and out. Tis a
shame, although I suppose it’s very well that he caught himself before he fell
Marinette was now glaring daggers where Chat Noir stood, her
teeth bared in an infuriated snarl. She ignored the jab to her heart from his
mention of another woman that Prince Adrien was interested in, instead focusing
her anger on his grave mistakes of her character.
“Now you listen here, Chat
Noir,” she spat, pointing a finger to his chest. “My feelings for Prince
Adrien are real, and not based on his
title, or his riches, or looks. I didn’t even like him until I saw how kind, forgiving, and generous he could be.
I love him for who he is as a person, not for what he could afford or what he
could give me.”
She took a deep breath, her fury beginning to simmer.
“And while I know I have no chance of him ever returning my
feelings,” she continued in a much less hostile tone than before, bordering on disheartened
acceptance, “I just want to make it clear that I do truly care for him…even if
he loves someone else.”
The man in front of her stared seemingly in awe at her words.
His green eyes were blown wide as his cheeks gradually shifted into a rosy
color. For a few, tense seconds all he could seem to do was peer at her with an
emotion Marinette couldn’t place, his reaction garnering her confusion.
Why was he looking at her as if seeing her for the first
time? It caused a shiver to run down her spine, a good thing or a bad thing,
she wasn’t certain.
At last, he appeared to snap out of his self-induced trance,
a corner of his mouth curling up in a fond smile.
“I apologize for making such inaccurate assumptions of your
feelings, My Lady. I see now that I was in the wrong.”
He held out a gloved hand to her.
“Would you allow me to make it up to you with a dance?”
Marinette pursed her lips, not relenting on the glower she
sent his way.
“How is a dance with you going to make it up to me?”
“Well, I’ve been told I’m an excellent dancer,” he boasted,
shooting her a wink. “And I’ve been trained since early childhood in the art.”
His smile faltered as his expression shifted from cheekiness to remorseful. “I
really am sorry for making those false accusations about you. It was completely
unjustified. Can you forgive me?”
Marinette sighed, her features relaxing in the process.
She supposed she could understand where he was coming from,
since most girls only wanted Prince Adrien for his title or looks. How was he
to know that she was different, that she didn’t care about that stuff?
Well, she did consider him to be the most handsome, gorgeous
man she ever saw, but that wasn’t why she liked him.
Anyway, Chat was just making a conclusion most likely based
on the Prince’s numerous, other female admirers. He was also quick to apologize
once she informed him on how wrong he was.
She was set on dancing with Prince Adrien and him alone for
the night, but it was obvious that he wasn’t going to show up. And, she’s been
itching to dance…
“Alright, Chat Noir, I will dance with you. But you must
promise me something first.”
A part of his forehead rose. She guessed he was raising an
eyebrow at her request.
“And that would be?”
Her blue eyes hardened.
“You must promise not to tell Prince Adrien about my feelings
for him. Swear to me you won’t!”
Chat looked baffled at her demand.
“Because!” she hissed, pointing at him for emphasis. “He’ll
reject me and then everyone will find out and then I’ll become the laughing
stock of this kingdom for thinking I ever had a chance with him and then I’ll
never be able to leave my house again! So do not tell him, understand?”
Chat, to her surprise and indignation, had the audacity to chuckle.
“I don’t know why you think he’ll reject you, you are a lovely woman.”
When she only blinked at his enunciation of the words,
oblivious as to what he was getting at, he closed his eyes and sighed for a
“Regardless,” he continued after he opened his eyes, flashing
her a grin. “I won’t tell him. Cat’s honor.”
He placed his right hand over his heart as he made the vow,
at the same time he raised his left in the air.
While she was skeptical of the sly expression he wore, he did
promise not to tell Prince Adrien. She mentally scoffed, figuring he only had
that look because he was only going to tease her throughout the night for her
“Very well, chaton. I’ll dance with you.”
His eyes shined with satisfaction, looking very much like the
cat that got the cream.
The next day, after the hype from the ball had long ago worn
off, Lady Marinette was pleasantly surprised to receive a letter addressed
solely to her. She figured it to be from Alya, no doubt in order to berate her
for leaving her to dance with a stranger.
The thought made her giggle before she accepted the note from
Only for the amusement to immediately die down once she
observed just where the letter came from. With wide eyes and a new, nervous
rhythm of her heart, she broke the wax seal and flipped the paper open.
I hope you
are having a wonderful morning. I apologize for not being able to attend the
ball your family hosted last night, for I was caught up with other duties. I
hope you are able to find it in your kind heart to forgive me.
If you were
not at all busy today, I was wondering if you would perhaps consider spending
the afternoon with me at the palace. Besides having lunch and strolling around
the grounds together, there is something I would like to ask of you.
request is for you, and you alone, My Lady. Of course, you are free to decline,
either the request or the visit, or even both if you so wish. Although, I will be
honest with you, in that I very much hope you decide to come.
If you do
wish to visit, please send word soon after you have made your decision. If not,
please kindly disregard this note and I shall never bring up the subject again.
Crown Prince of France
“Marinette?” Sabine asked whilst entering the dining room.
Her head tilted in confusion upon seeing her daughter’s flustered state. “Are
you alright? Who is that letter from?”
But her daughter couldn’t answer, for she promptly swooned
and fell right out of her chair.
Don’t worry, she was fine and able to go to the palace xD
since u did top five haikyuu moms...what about the dads? :O
I’m all here for the Dads, let’s have a round of applause for our beautiful and distressed captains! ٩(♡ε♡)۶
1. Daichi. Of course. He’s the utimate dad™ all and the one who’s living the most nerve-wreaking life, having to deal with the biggest insubordinate team ever…but still, he’s their pillar and he’d die for every single one of them. Gotta just love Daichi, after all he’s our dad too <3
2. Kuroo. Never forget that pic in the calendar where Kuroo is nonchalantly spraying water at Yamamoto with his usual hand-on-the-hip stance while fondly looking over his other children. He’s the kind of dad that enjoys personally distressing his children, but at the same time he’s extremely protective of them (especially Kenma). He can trash the cats as much as he wants, but try to do the same and you’ll be dead before you could even realize it.
(look at mom!Yaku in action too)
3. Oikawa. On one side you have the first and second years, who literally venerate and respect him so much, on the other you have the rest of the third years who probably have more fun constantly mocking him than actually playing. Oikawa’s dad status is just ridiculously hilarious.
4. Ushijima. Respect, hard work, not a single unnecessary treat or words of love. He’s the definition of severe disciplinarian father. But not because he enjoys being harsh to his team, just because he’s the only way he knows to make all of them stronger. Despite everything, deep down he’s his swans biggest fan and, let’s face it, they all love him as much as they are afraid of him.
5. Bokuto. “Well, he self destructs at the most random times, but it doesn’t bug him if our enemy is strong, so we’re fine. When everyone else in the teams loses hope, he’s usually still pretty energetic. Despite everything, he’s pretty reliable.”
Adrien is Chat Noir. He knows that she knows he’s Chat Noir. She knows that he
knows that she—anyway. She found him
out by accidently seeing him release his transform behind the school one day,
right after she had done the same herself. It wasn’t that Marinette had ever
really wanted to know who Chat Noir was, but knowing it was Adrien made her
life much easier. She hadn’t meant to clue him in that she knew the truth of his
identity, but Nino had Adrien trapped one day, and he couldn’t seem to get away
until Ladybug intervened. Granted, if she hadn’t said “go, I’ll wait for you, I
need you,” he might have not understood why
she had rescued him from Nino’s vice grip. The damage was done though. And not
another word of it had been said since.
of them sat together at the top of the Notre Dame, neither speaking a word.
Twiddling her thumbs nervously, Ladybug wanted to use all of her power to speak
up, but she couldn’t. He was probably furious with her. He had detransformed
right in front of her so that they could hide from the akuma. She knew that was
the safest plan… but she couldn’t do it. Marinette couldn’t bring herself to
show him who she was. The look of heartbreak he had. The look of betrayal. It
was forever embedded in her mind.
Pairing: Peter X Reader Warnings: Fighting, Language A/N: This is a four part series and it’s one of my favourites that I wrote tbh, it’s all on my wattpad if you guys don’t want to wait for me to post the rest, but it is already complete so I’m setting all the posts on a schedule! :D Hope you guys enjoy! Btw the reader’s powers are like the flash’s, if you want an idea of how they work!
You weren’t exactly sure how you ended up here.
Well, that’s a lie. You knew exactly how you got here, you just weren’t sure as to why.
A couple months ago, you got into some trouble with the Falcon, and in return for him not turning you in, he asked for a favor when he needed it. So here you were, returning that favor.
You had a particular power that seemed it would come in handy, so Sam finally approached you about helping him out. He was sure to remind you that you’d be in a lab being tested on or just thrown in a jail cell if it wasn’t for him, so you readily agreed.
You thought maybe he needed you to do something for him that required going in and out quickly and not being seen. Your power helped with that. But you didn’t expect to be standing in an airport in Germany facing one half of the Avengers.