Rare Variant Cover

Comfort

IMAGINE: After dealing with your brother’s loss, your colorful boyfriend is determined to cheer you up. The road to recovery is long, but he’ll be there every step of the way. WORD COUNT: 1.1k WARNINGS: Mentions death of a loved one.

The sight of someone who lost something so dear to them is heartbreaking. You can see the pain practically oozing from them in like dark rain.

It's just as painful to watch because you know you can't help them.

A string of apologies won't do them any good. A few words of hope can raise them from the deepest pits of their own hell. Most of the time, a person in mourning never truly gets over this eternal ache.

Beast Boy did not like these odds.

The moment he heard that you lost (Brother's Name), he knew he had to help you work through the heartache. That was the norm of a boyfriend, right?  

The young superhero was new to this, but he definitely knew his No. 1 duty was to comfort you through anything.

-

Your tears subsided for the fifth time that day, but you knew they would soon return.  

(Brother) was gone. He would never come back. Memories of the last time you had seen him were only a few days back. He had just gotten into his car and prepared to drive home.

"I'll text you the minute I get there," he told you confidently. "Don't worry your pretty little head about anything."

"It's dark out there," you commented. "Just spend the night. I have some extra clothes you can borrow." Gently shooting down your offer, your brother squeezed your hand.

"See you later brat."

The next morning, you had received the call. The doctor from Jump City Health explained to you that (Brother) had passed away in surgery after collecting him from a car crash. Your entire world had shattered at the news. Your brother was no more. The man that you've known since birth, your role model, gone.

Clutching your blankets, you wrap them tightly around you, pretending they'll protect you from the pain.  

The moment you heard (Brother) was dead, you temporarily moved out of Beast Boy's room and into your old one so he wouldn't have to deal with your agony. Besides, you'd rather cry in peace rather than have someone spew empty words to console you.

As if to taunt your wishes, something softly banged on your door. "Y/N?" Garfield knocked on the door once more, his knuckles carefully brushing the metal doors.

"Yes?" You ask quietly, knowing he could hear you perfectly.

"Can I come in?"  

You're both silent for a long time.

Would it be right to let your boyfriend to see you in such a broken state? Nuzzling into your pillow, you let out a quiet sigh before nodding. "Go ahead."

Not wasting a second, the green adult quietly opened the door and slipped in. He held his gasp in once he took in how much pain you were really in.

"Hi baby," he whispered.

"Hi," you reply. You can see Garfield's disappointment at your lack of enthusiasm, but he quickly pushes it away.  

"Do you have room for one more?"

Glancing down, you slowly scoot over until your bed has space for another. Without another word, you turn on your side, your back now facing Garfield. Hiding his hurt, Gar went to slide in next to you until he came up with another idea.

Something gently pokes your side, followed by a slight weight. Curious to see what it was, you glance over your shoulder.

A dark green chicken sat on your side, quietly clucking once it caught your attention.

"What are you doing, stupid?" You ask tiredly. No response. In reply, Garfield carefully nuzzled your neck with his beak.

Hiding your want to roll your eyes, you turn over and sigh. The weight vanished.

Out of nowhere, something started making its way up your body. The culprit made himself known by sticking his scaly head out of your blanket.

"If I hadn't known that was you," you stare down the green boa, "I would have thrown you out of the window. Change into something else or I will do it."

With a nod, the snake quickly morphed into a small monkey.

Seeing a hint of a smile playing at the edge of your lips, Garfield squealed in happiness before maneuvering himself under your arms.

Finally rolling your eyes, you allow your boyfriend to cuddle against your chest. "What are you up to?" His only response was to press his tiny hand against your lips.

"You are a troublemaker," you told the green monkey quietly. "But you're adorable, so that makes it bearable." That had earned you a small chirp.

Despite the mood change, your thoughts drifted to (Brother). A tear slipped down your cheek, much to your boyfriend's alarm.

Garfield's hands quickly replaced themselves on your cheeks. His tiny thumbs wiped your tears away before pressing a gentle kiss to your lips.

"I'm sorry," you blubbered suddenly, letting your emotions take over you. "I'm sorry I can't control myself."

As more tears fell, Garfield motioned you to turn over. Obeying his silent command, you watch your boyfriend morph into his human form.

"Don't cry, please don't cry," he begged, holding you close. "I can't stand it when you cry. I can help you, but just please, stop."

"It hurts," you wail, clinging to his shirt. "It just hurts so much and I don't know what to do!"

Your chest rises and falls rapidly as you struggle to breathe. All your memories of (Brother) hit you at once, bringing another wave of tears.

"I'll help you through it," Garfield promised. "I'll be here to guide you through the pain and all the bullshit that tries to throw itself at you."

As you continue to sob and hiccup through your torment, Gar was right there, rubbing your back and offering you soothing words.

Once your tears had subsided and the grief had lessened, your boyfriend pressed a kiss into your forehead. "How are you feeling now?" He asked carefully.

Feeling? Losing your brother still left an ache in your bones, but it was bearable now. It was easy enough to swallow the tears and not completely break down.

"Better than I was before," you reply.

"Good." Garfield smiled happily as he brushed a stray lock of hair behind your ear. His gloves were gone, allowing you to feel his clawed fingers.  

Instead of pulling away, the superhuman ran his emerald digits down your cheek. His dagger-like nails carefully trail after the pads, slightly tickling your face.

"Thank you," you tell him quietly. He cocks his head in confusion.

"I'm just doing my job. No need to thank me."

Giving him your own smile, you take his hand from your face and bring it to your lips.  

"I have everything to thank you for."

Free Ride

Jake Lockley x GN!Reader • Rating: T •Masterlist• ao3• want to be tagged? | requestinfo• MK Bingo 2024 Masterlist• ko-fi •

Summary: Your taxi driver is surprisingly familiar.

🌛For @moonknight-events MK Bingo Spring 2024 Event🌜

A/N: Set in London, Jake is driving a black cab in my mind for some reason.

Warnings: Jake being mistaken for Steven, kisses, awkward silences, over use of italics, typos, not beta read, railroad sentences, please let me know if I've missed a warning!

Word Count: 1161

You got into the cab quickly, the cold night air raking its nails over your skin. You pulled your coat a little higher and shivered. 

The bar crawl hadn’t exactly gone to plan. Two of your friends had had to check out early, and a third had hooked up with someone they’d met while getting a round. You’d decided to call it a night.  

“Hi,” you greeted the driver, about to give your address when you pause in surprise. “Steven?” 

Jake freezes, watching your reflection in the rear view mirror. 

“Steven Grant, you, you live on the floor above me.” You smile. “I didn’t realise you drove a cab?” 

He swallows, raising his chin up in a nod, his mind racing. He’d left it far too long to deny it. “I… just, part time.” He spoke quietly, adding a croak to his voice to disguise the difference in accent. 

“You okay?”

“Yeah… cold.” He tapped his throat, “so, erm, home?”

You nod, “yeah. Sorry you’re unwell, hope you feel better soon.”

He shrugged. “It’s nothing.” 

You nod again, something about the energy in the cab seemed… odd. Different. You were on pretty good terms with Steven since he’d helped you out when you were lugging your shelves up the stairs (they were too wide for the lift.) You chatted when you ran into each other going out or coming back. Somehow you both usually ended up going to the local sainsbury’s at the same time for your weekly shop and had kind of settled into a not exactly planned routine where you would wait for each other and do it together. 

Steven talked. A lot. In the best way possible. Excitedly and passionately. Bubbly and enthusiastic. He genuinely listened as well, asking follow up questions and nodding. But even when he was listening, he wasn’t quiet. Always adding in ‘hmms’ and ‘oh right’, and little snippets of commentary that warmed your heart. 

Now he was quiet. Pulled in and zipped up. 

Maybe it was just the cold making his throat hurt. You’d have to get him something to help, maybe tomorrow you could knock on with some ginger, lemon, and honey tea. 

Maybe, maybe, maybe…

You stilt your head to the side as you watch him drive. He takes a turn smoothly, travelling down the late night roads without as much as a pause. Or a word. 

It just didn’t make sense. 

How unlike Steven he was being. You pause, for a second entertaining the idea that he wasn’t actually him. But that made no sense did it? He’d have to be an identical twin, and besides, he was talking you back to your flat. If he wasn't Steven, how would he know where you lived? 

“I didn’t know you could drive?” You say, speaking up a little to try to hide the spike of nervousness that had settled in your gut. You had been so sure that he’d told you he couldn’t… though had that just been an excuse? A reason to tag along with you when you went food shopping? Was his quietness now embarrassment from being caught out? 

“Hmm,” he nodded, glancing back at you again in the rear view mirror. “I don’t mention it… much.” 

You nod. “Yeah.” You pick at your fingernails as he drums his hands against the steering wheel, waiting for the light to change. 

The silence stretches out, almost blanketing the low grumble of the engine. It’s sickening. Nerve wrecking. 

“How’s work?” You blurt out, and then quickly clarify. “Both I mean, how’s driving going today and how’s the museum?” He glances back at you again, the action is starting to remind you of a priest in a confessional. 

“It’s all… normal.”

“Normal?” 

“Fine. Normal.”

You don’t speak again until he pulls up by the block of flats, putting on the handbrake and getting into neutral. He puts his hands on his lap, folded neatly with his palms facing upwards.

“How much do I owe you?” You ask.

“Nothing.” 

“What?” 

“Nothing. It’s on me.” 

“Stev-”

He turns quickly, flicking off his seatbelt in a practised move so that he can twist his body fully around to face you. 

For a moment you think he’s going to say something, reveal some grand secret but instead he pauses before giving you a very weak smile.

“It’s on me.” His voice is quiet, barely there at all. And, for the briefest second you could have sworn that his accent was different. 

“Thank you.” 

He shrugs politely, dismissing it as if it was nothing. 

Before he can turn away you reach out for his shoulder, the action instinctive and leaving you lost for a reason why you did it.  

He glances at your hand for a second before looking back to your face. 

You lean forward. “Thank you.” You repeat softly, and slowly kiss his left cheek, giving him plenty of time to pull away and rebuff you if he wanted to. 

Instead he leans slightly into the touch, swallowing and turning his head towards you. His nose brushes against yours and you think he’s going to turn back to facing the wheel, but instead he presses his lips to yours hesitantly. 

You squeeze his arm, surprised but responsive as you kiss him back. 

He kisses you slowly, but intentionally. Swiping the tip of his tongue along your bottom lip before opening your mouth with his own and licking inside. He groans, low in his chest as the kiss becomes hungrier, boarding on desperation as he presses as close to you as he physically can in his position. 

When suddenly he pulls back, blinking heavily. A mumbled, ‘sorry’, just escaping his lips. 

“It’s okay.” Your voice is quiet too, your mind only just catching up with what happened. 

He turns back, putting his seatbelt on with a click and staring straight ahead. “Have a good night.” 

“I, erm, I’ll see you later.” You mutter as you get out, feeling almost shaky from what just happened. Your thoughts reeling. 

You get up to your flat in a daze. You’d kissed him, well, he’d kissed you. Did that mean anything? Had you done something to chase him off? 

You change into your pyjamas and brush your teeth, staring at your reflection in the bathroom mirror. 

There’s a soft knock at your front door and you freeze. Wait. 

Maybe it’s a neighbor's door. Maybe it’s noise from another flat.

There’s a knock again, still soft and your phone buzzes. A message from Steven, ‘can we talk?’ 

Fuck. 

You head to the door, checking the peep hole and confirming that yes, it is Steven outside your door. You unlock and open it quickly. 

“Steven, I-”

You don’t get a chance to finish your sentence before he moves forward quickly and kisses you deeply. His hands settle on your hip, the back of your neck as he walks you further inside and kicks the door shut with the heel of his foot. 

____________________________________________

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Voodoo Doll

Imagine: Dean Winchester doesn’t believe that he can truly fall in love with someone. Even after catching up with you, an ex-hunter, he can’t help but deny his growing feelings as some magical sham. He can’t care for someone as he does you, right? Word Count: 5k

I don't even like you, why d'you want to go and make me feel this way?  And I don't understand what's happened, I keep saying things I never say.

"What is she doing here?" Dean asked Sam. He sent his brother a quick glare as you waved in their direction before returning to the bookshelves.

"Y/N offered to help us with this case," Sam told his brother. "Be grateful; she flew in yesterday. Give her a break."

The two silenced themselves as you approached them. You grinned stupidly as you proudly held up a pile of books. "I got those books you asked for Sammy," you declared, brushing a stray lock of hair out of your (Eye Color) eyes.

Why are you still here talking to us? Dean thought. Sammy and I need to get going on this case. You're distracting m- us. You're distracting us.

"His name is Sam," Dean told you sternly. "Ever thought of using it?"

Rolling your eyes, you shot the hunter a grin. "Like you're one to follow rules, Winchester," you joked. Adjusting your coat, you glance out the shop's large windows. The snow was falling at a faster pace than it was before.

"I better head back to the airport," you informed the younger brother. "If I don't leave now, I'll be stuck in town with you morons until the planes are ready to go. Good luck with that 'test' loser."

You struggled to give Sam a hug. He laughed as you tried to wrap your arms around his midsection.

"You aren't even trying," he teased, watching as you groaned in frustration. Your grunts turned into squeals as Sam picked you up.

Rolling his eyes, Dean watched the two of you giggle with glee as you both messed around in the shop. People passing by ‘awwed' at your cuteness as you continued to act like fools.

"Are you guys done?" Asked the older Winchester as he looked away from the scene. Something about it left a foul taste in his mouth.

"Aww, someone mad I'm not giving him any love?" You teased cheekily. Sam let go of you, allowing you to approach Dean. You opened your arms wide and gestured to him. "Want a hug?"

"Pft, no!" Dean stated, crossing his arms. Unfazed by his rejection, you got your arms around Dean. The hunter could feel himself growing warm as you smiled up at him.

"Don't deny it, you love it when I hug you."

No, I absolutely despise it, I- Does your hair always smell this good? Dean thought.

Rolling his eyes, the eldest Winchester brother tried pushing you away. "Don't you have to be someplace?" He asked you.

With wide eyes, you pulled away. "Right! I have to get home!" Sam cleared his throat, catching your attention.

"I think you're a little late for that Y/N," he told you as he watched the heavy snowfall. "Snow's getting bad out there. I'm sure the airport's shut down by now."

The hunter glanced at the almost hidden Impala and grimaced. "Even the car's going to be a hassle today."

Dean scoffed at the thought of his baby being left out in the cold. But even he had to admit getting the vehicle out of the snow would be a pain in the ass.

The car quickly left his mind when he focused on you.

You had started to pout once you realized you couldn't leave town. It made Dean's chest hurt as he watched you try to come up with a backup plan.

"I think we got room for one more in the motel, Sammy. What do you think?" Dean asked his brother.

Your eyes quickly lit up as you looked between the two brothers. "You're serious?" You ask, crossing your fingers hopefully.

As Dean looks to Sam, he pretends to sigh as if he already regretted the suggestion. "If you don't like it, I can always change my-" The hunter struggled to catch you as you launched yourself at him.

"You guys are lifesavers!" You exclaimed as you did the same to Sam. The tallest of the brothers was more prepared as he caught you with ease. Dean tried to not pay attention to this.

Instead, he shrugged as if it was nothing before heading towards the shop's exit.

"Don't thank us yet. You still have to choose who you want to bunk with. We only got two beds."

I can feel you watching even when you're nowhere to be seen. I can feel you touching even when you're far away from me.

"How much longer do we have to stay in this crap town?" Groaned Dean. "It's been like a week and a half dude. I don't like it!"

The brothers had headed out to the local bar. The roads that led out of town were covered with ice. The locals told them it would be a death sentence if they even attempted to leave. Seeing as they already wrapped up the hunt a day prior (Vampire was imitating both a demon and a spirit) the Winchesters hit the town.

You had stayed back at the motel as you weren't feeling too well. Dean was reluctant to leave you by yourself, but you insisted. Now and then, he caught himself looking at the empty chair beside him.

"I'm an ex-hunter," you had told him. "I think I know how to take care of myself Dean-o."

"It's been four days, Dean," Sam chastised. "Besides, the weather forecast says it should be over by Friday. We just got to wait a day." The long-haired man chuckled as he took a swig of beer.

"Besides," he quickly added. "I don't think you'd mind much. You seem to be having fun sharing a bed with Y/N."

"What... What did you just say?" Dean struggled to ask.

Usually, if his brother said something that was in some manner of insulting, the hunter would verbally assault his ass until Sam didn't know what hit him. This time, however, the man was caught off guard.

"You heard me," Sam replied. "You like sharing a bed with Y/N."

"Do not!" Dean shot back.

Even as the words left his mouth, the hunter glanced around the small bar. He didn't want you to hear.

Wait, what the hell am I doing? Dean asked himself. You're not even here and you're still causing me trouble Y/N!

The bartender heard the Winchester's outburst and silently approached the two like a shark in bloody waters. She offered a flirty smile as her ruby red lips parted to reveal pearl-like teeth.

"Can I get you boys anything else?" She asked, looking towards Dean. The sibling smiled at her, nodding.

"Just a beer, please," he asked politely.

"Nothing else, hot stuff?" She asked, quickly batting her eyelashes at the hunter. Raising his finger, Dean fingered through the menu he still had.

It took him an extra second before he quietly set the laminated sheet down. "I'll have the seasoned fries," Dean told the girl. "With extra ketchup." Turning to his brother, he asked if he wanted anything. Sam shook his head slowly as he eyed Dean curiously.

"That'll be it, sweetheart," the hunter told the girl, giving her a small smile.

The bartender scoffed as she wrote everything down. Sending him a glare, she stalked into the kitchen and yelled at the cook to start up the fryer.

"Wow," Sam uttered as he watched his brother casually finish his beer. When Dean didn't respond, he went on. "I can't believe you just dissed that girl!"

"So what, Sammy?" Demanded Dean. "I'm not in the mood for shit like this. And besides, where am I going to take her? Not at the motel!"

"The car," Sam answered. "Her place. Some empty park. The alleyway. The-"

"I get it," his brother snapped. "I just- I'm not interested."

Chills suddenly went up the man's spine as he refused to look at his hand. It tingled painfully as he clenched his fist.

Dean could still feel you, his skin under your hand. It made him crazy not to touch you.

You woke up with a groan. The light of morning shot through the windows as it gently rested across the bed. Feeling a yawn rise, you try to stretch out your arms.

I say try because a certain green-eyed hunter refused to let you.

Glancing down at your waist, you see Dean's arm wrapped around you. Looking over your shoulder, you see said man resting against you peacefully. He looked so relaxed, it would have been a crime to wake him.

That still didn't change the fact that you had to go pee.

"Dean," you whisper. "Dean!" When he didn't budge, you poked his light scruff.

"Dean..." You whined pitifully. "I'm going to piss the bed if you don't get off of me!"

Sam, having just awoken because of your not-so-quiet yelling, had noticed your struggle and woke up his brother for you.

"DEAN!" Sam shouted.

Automatically, the hunter woke up. Using his reflexes, he threw himself over your body and held you close to his chest. His breathing grew erratic as he looked for signs of danger.

Sam couldn't help but laugh as he took in your flushed face. With slow movements, you gently tap Dean's bare bicep.

"Dean, I need you to get up," you tell him gently. He sent you a questioning look, but it quickly dawned on him what position the two of you were in.

Sending you a sheepish smile, Dean released you from his grip. Getting off of the bed, he rubbed the back of his neck.

"So..." He started nervously. "Anyone want burgers for breakfast?"

He touched you. Dean touched you and he loved it. The hunter wasn't exactly sure what to feel about it.

Love seemed like the right term. He didn't hate you. He wasn't disgusted by you. Definitely not.

Ugh, this was high school all over again. Just a big, giant pain in the ass.

"Shut up bitch," Dean sneered.

As much as he wanted to scream and cry, and just have a good old-fashioned fit, he couldn't. It was impossible.

Dean Winchester was inexplicably but deeply in love with you.

Tell me where you're hiding your voodoo doll 'cause I can't control myself. I don't wanna stay; I wanna run away, but I'm trapped under your spell.

"Think she has a hex bag or something?" Dean asked Sam.  

The snow cleared up in town, allowing you and the brothers to leave. You were going to continue with your original plans of going back home, but Dean offered you to stay with them.

You ended up quickly agreeing, but only after when they promised to drive you back home to get more of your stuff.

"What the hell is wrong with you?" Sam asked. "You really think Y/N planted a hex bag? Just to make you love her?"

"Would you stop saying that!" Dean barked angrily.

In his burst of anger, he threw the clothes he had into the air. A stray pair of boxers landed on his head as he glared at Sam.

The youngest hunter backed down once he noticed how riled up his brother had gotten. "All right," he quickly stated. "I'll shut up."

Sending him a final scowl, Dean went back to searching his stuff. Clothes were scattered across the room as he went through his stuff.

After a while of finding nothing, Sam piped up once more. "I don't know why you think she planted anything. Y/N's a hunter. She knows better than to-"

He was suddenly cut off by a small object smacking him in the face. Using his reflexes, he caught the item before it fell to the ground.

"What did I tell you?" Dean demanded. With quick movements, he slipped on a fresh shirt before shouldering his way past Sam. Plucking the hex bag out of his hands, the older brother left the room and made his way to the one right next to it.

"Open up Y/N!" The hunter spat as he pounded on the door. It took him several times before it opened. Just as he was about to let all hell loose, Dean noticed what you were wearing.

"What was so important that you couldn't wait until after I finished showering?" You asked him, trying but failing miserably to keep your obvious anger out of your tone. Keeping a tight grip on your towel, you lean against the doorway, ignoring the droplets of water running down your back.

"I um..." Dean trailed off. He glued his eyes to yours as he avoided looking down. "You, uh... Left something in my... You gave me a, um..."

"Oh!" Your eyes lit up as he held up the cloth bag. "You found it! I was going to give it to you in person, but-"

"Wait," Dean cut you off, snapping out of his dazed trance. "You wanted me to know about your little hex bag?"

"Hex bag?" You question. Before he could explain, you laughed. The hunter stood there confused as you held your sides, careful to keep the thin cloth secured around your chest.

"It's... It's not a hex bag!" You told Dean after finishing your laugh. "It's just a poorly wrapped gift." Taking the bag from him, you slowly unwound the leather strap and show him the contents.

A silver bracelet shined under the high-noon sun. It glimmered as you brought it closer to Dean's face as you showed him.

"I got this for you a while back. Sam has one too, but I don't think he found his yet. An old priest had given these to me and I wanted you guys to have them."

"Oh," Dean said sheepishly. "That... That was nice of you." You couldn't help but laugh as you watched the hunter accept the gift.

"Why didn't you check it?" Before he could explain, you shot another question. "Did you really think I planted a curse on you?"

"Well- No! Of course not! It's just- Well, things have been- I don't want to talk about it!" Dean stumbled over his words. He looked as if he wanted to say more, but walked away, back to his room instead.

You watched as he disappeared inside and shut the door. It hurt to see him go, but you shook your head.

He probably had a good reason, right? You ask yourself. Something must've happened and- He's mad. No doubt about it.

With a groan, you shut your own door and return to the bathroom to continue your shower.

It hurts in my head and my heart and my chest, and I'm having trouble catching my breath. Won't you please stop loving me to death?

"How did you dumbasses convince me to come back to this bullshit?" You ask the brothers as you adjust your gear.

Over the years, you learned to wear certain things when going on hunts. The most important thing was to wear thick leather boots with an equally thick jacket. Your weapons rested snugly in their harnesses as you adjusted the knife in your boots.

"It's a mystery to me," said Sam as he chuckled in the passenger's seat. He looked over to his brother. "Got any ideas?"

"No," Dean replied quickly, suddenly focusing on the road. His hands moved soundlessly against the wheel as he pulled into an empty dirt lot.

As he parked the car, you glimpsed silver on his wrist. The sight of it brought a smile to your face.

Sam had shown you his golden one earlier. He loved it. And although Dean hadn't said it, you were sure he did.

"Besides, it's a ghost," Dean told you, adding on to the previous conversation. "It'll be as easy as pie. Nothing special."

With a scoff, you exit the car and head to the trunk. The boys follow you as you pop it open and grab things. "What are you doing?" Sam suddenly questioned you as you slipped rings on your fingers.

"Yeah, we ain't dressing up for anything fancy now," his brother commented. Ignoring their words, you adjust the jewelry.

"Salt filled cartridges are fun and all, so are crowbars. But wouldn't it be nice to physically hit one of these bastards?"

The boys look at each other curiously before staring at your fingers. They both recognize the dark gray metal resting upon your hands. Dean took one of your hands and inspected them. It was hard to hide your red cheeks, but the darkness of the night provided help.

"I will never understand why you would ever stop hunting with ideas like this," he told you quietly.

The blush disappears as you pull your hand out of the hunter's grip. "Is hunting worth losing those close to you?"

You say nothing more after you gather your things. The boys quickly suit up as you make sure everything was ready. They signal you with a quick pump of their shotguns. Sam quickly took the lead as he wandered into the woods.

"So this guy just lured people into his tiny little shack in the middle of nowhere and just killed them?" You asked Dean. You were trying to learn all you could about this last-minute case.

"Yep," the Winchester confirmed. "Sick freak. Rumor has it, he even ate some of his victims."

Shuddering, you glance over your shoulder to look at Sam. He sat in the back of the Impala to catch up on his sleep. Dean quickly asked that you sit next to him in the front.

"Cool, we have a cannibalistic ghost on our hands now. Great," you tell him sarcastically.

"You'll be fine," Dean told you as he pulled into the motel parking lot. Shutting off the car, he looked over to see you were still nervous. With smooth movements, he gently grasped your hand and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

"Sammy and I,  we're here for you. Don't you forget that."

You kept repeating that in your head as the three of you encountered Franklin in his bedroom.

He had just captured his latest prey from a nearby campsite. You found him hovering over the girl's limp form with a knife in his hand.

Chunks of the poor soul were already gone. Franklin raised his weapon to grab another handful until Sam opened fire. The ghost disappeared, but you all knew it would be back.

You rushed to the girl's side as the brothers started searching the tiny house for something Franklin would be attached to. Your hands fumbled over her throat as you checked for certain marks around her neck.

Bruises in the shape of a chain rested on the skin all around her neck.

"He's got the chain!" You shout to the brothers.

In the report, Franklin used a welded chain to choke out his victims. Police never found said chain, but they suspected it was somewhere near the house. Guess the ghost got it back.

As a hunter, all three of you concluded that Franklin was connected to the linked metal, and that's what was keeping him here.

You could hear noises come from the other rooms, alerting you that the men were trying to draw out Franklin. You knew it wouldn't work.

Just saying considering he was standing right in front of you.

With a roar, Franklin outstretched his arms, his face red as a tomato. Using your reflexes, you ducked under his flailing limbs and aimed for his ribs. The dead farmer howled in pain as the iron contacted his... Well, disembodied spirit.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" He screamed, spinning around to make eye contact with you.

"Y/N?" Both Dean and Sam cried out at the same time. Footsteps rang through the tiny shack as they ran towards the room you were in. Franklin expected this immediately.

Just as the boys were going to come to your rescue, the bedroom door slam shut. A series of items flew in front of it, preventing any entrance. Cries of anguish could be heard from the other side as the Winchester brothers fought to break down the wooden slab.

Franklin turned around with a devilish grin on his face.

"Just you and me now, darling," he croaked out, quickly flashing forward.

"Hang on in there!" Dean shouted at the door. With another heave, he slammed himself against the thick object.

Pain shot through his nerves as he bounced off the slab. A hiss unconsciously left him as he tried again and again.

"We need to find the chain," Sam told his brother, grabbing him by the wrist. His fingers brushed against a warm metal, surprising him greatly. Instead of commenting on it, the youngest Winchester dragged him away.

The two rummaged through the shack, searching for anything that resembled the supposed murder weapon.

"It's not even here, goddammit!" Dean soon screamed, tossing a table across the room. The wood smashed against the wall, just another noise compared to the screeching in the other room. Without another word, he grabbed his .45 and shot at the door.

The bullets embedded themselves in the wood as he fired repeatedly. It wasn't until the soft clicking of the gun told him he ran out of bullets.

"Dean," Sam suddenly caught his attention. "Can you hear that?" Dean sent him a nasty look but listened quietly.

Over the sounds of angry bellowing and broken items, the boys heard you shouting. At first, it made Dean's heart clench until he connected the cries.

"Guys!" A loud crash. "Get the-" There was the sound of glass breaking. It made a horrible noise as it landed on the floor. "Necklace! Find it!"

A loud thump resonated against the door. The brothers knew what Franklin was doing to you. It only made them react faster.

"I think I saw a necklace in the other room!" Sam told his brother.

Not sparing a second, Dean pushed him out of the way and ran down the hallway. The room was a mess from its previous search. A glint of gray caught his eye as he looked over the floor.

"Start a fire, Sam," the hunter demanded as he grabbed the dainty chain. He heard the floorboards being ripped up as he too fumbled for his salt stash. They couldn't stop now. They were so close.

The smell of smoke caught Dean's attention. He looked at the growing bonfire with fury as he fisted the necklace.

"Die you son of a bitch!" He grunted before tossing the jewelry.

You couldn't find the will to scream anymore. It seemed impossible.

Franklin had just finished tossing you around like a rag doll and went in for the kill.

Moonlight flooded the room from the broken window as he hunched over you. His necklace glinted in the light as he leaned in close.

"Guess you're all alone now," he taunted, raising his blade dramatically. Just as he was about to bring it down, it fell out of his grip.

The ghost screamed in pain as he went up in flames. The knife fell beside your head as you looked towards the door.

"Y/N?" One of the boys called out. "You safe?"

Unable to respond, you watch as the door suddenly slammed open, knocking over things that were previously blocking it.

Dean ran in first with Sam right on his heels, his shotgun at the ready for the first sight of danger. He threw it to the side once he saw you were alone and rushed to your side.

"We should have never let you come with us," he told you quietly as he pulled you into his lap. "It wasn't worth it. Almost losing you."

With a cheeky smile, you half-heartedly smacked him in the chest. "I'm glad," you whispered, finding it hard to talk. Screaming took a lot out of you.

"If it wasn't for me, it would've taken you forever to find the necklace. Then you boys would look worse than me." The pain was slowly lulling you to sleep. It was so strong, you closed your eyes.

Dean smiled weakly. He can't help but press a kiss to your forehead. His eyes widened at his action but didn't pull away.

"You missed," you whispered quietly. The hunter barely caught the words, but they were too quiet to fully comprehend.

"What was that?" He asked. But you had already fallen asleep.

"It hurts Sammy," was the first thing you heard.

You tried turning towards the sound of the voice, but it was hard. Your bones felt stiff and your muscles ached with every movement. For now, you settled to listening to the voices.

"What does Dean?" Asked Sammy. The floors creaked as a heavyweight sunk into the bed you rested on.

"Every time I look at her, I can feel this... This indescribable pain in my chest. My head feels heavy and so does my heart. I can't breathe knowing she's like this."

A rough hand took yours and squeezed it gently. The course fingers and smooth palm let you know exactly which Winchester was holding you.

"Dean, it's only been a day. She'll wake up before you know it," Sam tried to console his brother.

"It might have been just a day, but a day is all you need to lose someone," Dean replied softly.

The brothers sigh. By now, you know that the two of them are shaking their heads hoping you won't succumb to their darkest thoughts. You would be okay.

Silence filled the room like a thick fog.

Neither Dean nor Sam made a noise. The only thing that alerted you of their continuous presence was the older Winchester's soothing grip.

Sam found the stillness to be rather deafening. Slowly clearing his throat, the hunter excused himself from his brother, quickly stating that he needed to pick up groceries before leaving. Soon it was just you and Dean.

You found your muscles slowly unclenching as you focused on Dean's touch.

"You don't know how badly I want to call you stupid Y/N," the hunter mumbled. "But I can't. Because I know your reasons were honest, and I appreciate that."

His breaths came out sharply as he tried gasping for air.

"I don't know what you've been doing to me but it's killing me to see you this way. I've..." The Winchester wheezed as the grip on your hand tightened. It quickly released once it grew too painful.

"It's hard to pretend I'm strong and all that when you're here, reminding me I could've done something. Something that would have prevented this. And I didn't."

Dean goes into a rant, complaining that it was his fault he let you join him and his brother and how he was an idiot to let himself get so close to you. It broke your heart to hear him put himself down, but it also brought you small hope.

He cared much more than he let on.

Ending his tirade, Dean sighed as he gave your hand a last squeeze before letting go. "I got to grab some things from Baby. Be right back."

Warm breath gently fanned your face, throwing you off for a second. Then it hit you.

Dean's lips pressed themselves against your forehead. They lingered a second longer than he liked, but you didn't mind. Pulling away, you repeated the words you told him a night ago.

"You missed," you mumbled cheekily, opening your eyes to little slits. You watch as Dean looked at you with a frozen expression, unsure what to do now.

"Y-you're... You're awake!" He stuttered. "You didn't- You were sleeping the entire time, right?"

"You missed Winchester," you repeat, ignoring his question. "How many times are you going to miss?"

"W-what?" Dean asked, still taken aback of your sudden awakening.

Rolling your eyes, you struggle to sit up. Seeing this, the hunter made a move to help you, but you pause. With a small grunt, you prop yourself against the headboard before looking up at Dean.

"These," you gesture, tapping your mouth, "are my lips. Do I need to put a sign so you don't miss them?"

Dean still looks confused, making you roll your eyes and grabbing the collar of his coat. Pulling him down, you slam your mouth against his.

At first, the hunter's unsure at the sudden contact. Seeing that he hadn't yet responded, you go to pull away until he had gently cupped your face and returned the favor.

The strong taste of whiskey filled your mouth as Dean softly kissed you back. Things grew heated as you tugged at him to pull off his jacket. He slowly pulled back with a chuckle.

"Calm down, you feisty thing," Dean teased. "You're still healing. Can't risk you hurting yourself again."

He presses another kiss to your forehead as he smirked cheekily. "You'll be the death of me, Winchester," you told him, leaning back into the motel bedsheets.

"I could say the same about you, babe," he replied.

Just red the paul imagine and.. i wish there was a sequel to it 😂😭 it's so goood! I like the way you write, it's very smooth!. 😍😍

Thank you very much anonymous! 😙 And I don't plan for there to be a sequel but there will be other imagines!

me when I reach the angst part of the angsty fic that I specifically chose for the angst

Nervous Little Thing

IMAGINE: Tim’s been through a lot during his time at NCIS. He’s been stabbed, shot at, attacked by a dog, even almost got blown up a few times. Safe to say, he can get a little paranoid at times. All it takes is a little reminder that the two of you are perfectly ok. WORD COUNT: 572 WARNINGS: Not gonna lie, Tim might sound like a psychopath at one point. Author’s Note: Had a little writer’s block but I decided to release another sappy feel-good piece. Hope y’all like it!

He sat nervously at his desk, constantly looking over his shoulder as if you would magically appear out of nowhere. Usually he’d be in bed by now reading a book but that’s when you’d be next to him, snoring away like a NASCAR engine.

It wasn’t normal for you to come home this late. Tim was used to coming home to you playing some of his video games wearing one of his baggy MIT shirts.

Imagine his surprise when he walked in at around 7:02, an hour after he was supposed to clock out of work, you were nowhere to be found.

“Don’t freak out,” mumbled Tim, sparing a single glance at his watch. The hands that read 9:47 seemed to taunt him as they slowly marched along the face.

There had to be a reasonable explanation why you weren’t back yet. There was a reason why you hadn’t texted him at all today warning him you would be late coming home. There was a reason you weren’t back and he hadn’t heard at all from you.

But from past experience, Tim couldn’t fight this feeling that he had to drop everything he was doing and find you. It wouldn’t take long to track your sim card and-

He heard the lock creaking in the hallway, the tell-tale sound of someone coming in. The door slowly swung open as you struggled to pull out your key.

“I’m home,” you called out into the apartment. Your bag slipped from your shoulder during your struggle, the weight of it pulling you to the floor. “Timmy, a little help please?”

No sooner after you called for him, the agent was at your side taking your bag with a worried grunt. He carried it over to the table, leaving you to strip your jacket in peace. For the moment. It wasn’t long before he returned, already looking for answers.

“Hey you all right?” Tim asked you. “It’s a bit late ain’t it?”

“I am fine Timmy,” you promised, pressing a kiss to his nose. “I just had a long day at the office, that’s all.”

His hands captured your face, holding you in place as he returned the favor. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I just get worried, y’know? You could get hurt and-”

Before he could continue his rambling, you put your hands over his, shushing his rambling.

“Tim.”

“(Your Name),” Tim sighed.

Something about the way the two of you held each other, he could relax knowing you were ok. You were with him. Home. Safe.

Feeling him ease up, you nodded towards the bedroom. It had been a long day for the two of you. Nothing that an hour or two of cuddling and some takeout couldn’t fix.

“I’ll order your favorite and we can watch (Choice of Fantasy Movie) in our underwear,” you offered.

Tim couldn’t help but chuckle, stealing another kiss before letting you go.

“That sounds amazing. You’ve got 5 minutes to call it in before I steal you away,” he teased.

“Promise?” You called out, already dialing in the number.

It’s no secret that Timothy McGee could get a little anxious at times. What he’s had to experience at work doesn’t help. He can’t help it when his fears get the better of him.

But at the end of the day, he knows that you’ll be there with him. For better or for worse. And that’s something to look forward to.

Hey, can you write a Jared Cameron X Male Reader(human) where Jared imprinted on the reader(which is his best friend that Jared abandoned when he phased) when Jared saw him after a long time and he tried talking to the reader but the reader is too hurt 'coz of Jared abandoning him so he avoided Jared whenever he tried talking with the reader but Jared never surrendered to win back his elusive best friend (imprint ) and they became lovers at the end

While this sounds like an amazing storyline, I do not think I could do Jared any justice! I don’t know too much about him per se, and I know some die-hard Twilight fans will have my head if I mess it up. I’m truly sorry to disappoint you.

if being hard on yourself worked, it would have worked by now