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[67midnightwriter]

Tourniquet - Chapter Five

A Supernatural Dean x Reader Series Told Backwards

~Y/N has been by Dean’s side through his worst days, always there if he needs her, forever just a call away. Love is impossible to fight and more impossible to live with. Just a side character in his epic life, Y/N would give anything just to give Dean a moment’s peace.~

Please see MASTERLIST for full info/warnings/chapter links.

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works ~ Get A Custom Story

How To Lose Friends and Knock on Death’s Door

She hadn’t been far when he called, which was always strange. Strange to think that out of the entire country, they’d accidentally ended up in almost the exact same place at the same time. 

Y/N had just cleaned up a little ghost situation in Absecon, New Jersey and decided to treat herself to a little glitz and glamor down in Atlantic City. Sadly, she found none, but she did find a few really good margaritas which led her to relieve her wallet of a few bucks in Bally’s. 

That night, she hung out on the boardwalk, boots thumping gently on the slatted wood. She took her time, nowhere to go, nothing really to do. The moon was bright and its glow reflected on the ocean like a million diamonds sparkling in the swells.

The November wind was slow but cruel and she tugged her jacket around her a little tighter. 

Someday, she wanted to come back in the summer. To bring a book and sit on the beach under a rented umbrella and feel the sun burn her legs. To dodge the crowds on the boardwalk, walk through the casinos for a little air conditioning. Maybe she’d bring a friend. Maybe she’d bring Dean. She laughed at the thought of Dean lying next to her on the beach; his back red from the sun, his legs too long for the blanket, toes digging into the sand. 

Dean. 

She sighed and leaned against the wooden railing, staring off at the water. Her nose was freezing and she rubbed at it, deciding it was time to go. 

As she turned, her phone buzzed and she smiled. His ears must have been ringing. Maybe she could get him to come out right now. Despite the late autumn cold, New Jersey was beautiful. 

“I was just thinking about you,” she answered with a light laugh. 

“Y/N/N…” His voice was panicked and rough. 

Her heart sank. Another tragic call, another night of talking him off the ledge. Pushing away her smile and disappointment, Y/N squared her shoulders and focused. 

“What’s going on? Are you hurt?” 

“No.” He stumbled as if his tongue wasn’t quite sure how to form the words. “You- it’s- Y/N/N, you gotta come here. Now.”

“OK.” His panic drifted through the phone into her. “Tell me what’s going on. Where are you?” 

Heavy breathing, a choked back sob. 

“It’s Bobby…”

Thirty-one miles wasn’t very far, but she felt every bump in the road like she was running barefoot on broken glass. Her stomach ached; her muscles tensed. Twice, she’d had to slow down in fear of retching, but she grit her teeth, gripped the wheel, and pushed on. 

The trauma rooms were on the main floor behind Emergency, and they were hesitant to let her in. 

“Please… He’s my father,” she lied, but not really. Bobby had been more of a father to her in those early years after her mother and sister died than her own had been. He was the only one she would listen to when reprimanded or given advice; his house buried in the junkyard was the only place she could truly call home. “Please.” 

The tears were real even if the genetics weren’t and they let her in; a short nurse pointing the way to the room in the corner. 

Doctors ran in and out, white coats and blue scrubs blurring as tears filled her eyes. 

She stood in the middle of the walkway, staring at the body in the bed, refusing to believe that it was Bobby. 

The patterned gown was too big, hanging off his shoulders and tucked under in weird places. Plastic tubes came out of his mouth, his chest, his arms. Bright blood leaked through the white gauze on his head.

Someone called her name, but she couldn’t hear it over the monitors beeping or the racing of her heart. 

“Y/N…” 

Sam touched her shoulder and she jumped back and away, hunter’s instincts taking over. 

“Whoa-” He held up his giant hands in surrender and leaned away. “It’s me. Sorry.” 

She sucked in a quick breath and looked up into his worried eyes. His hair was a bit longer than she’d last seen; his sideburns a ridiculous mess. He opened his arms and she fell into them, grabbing the front of his green jacket and twisting it in her fists. 

“What the fuck happened?” It came out in a wet sob, but the words were formed well enough. 

Sam was shaking and braced himself by wrapping his arms around her. “He… we were…”

Confusion choked her. “Who did this?”

He couldn’t answer, he just squeezed a little tighter. 

“What happened? What- I- Sam!” 

She pulled back and looked up. His face was creased with pain, his gaze sad and empty with shock. 

“Sam!” 

Hazel eyes flit from her face to Bobby and back again. Unable to speak, he shook his head.

She tore at his jacket, tugging him closer. Her body burned with anger, not at Sam, but he was the only one around that she could beat up on and not end up in cuffs. 

“Sam!” 

“I’m-” He closed his eyes and swallowed hard. “It just… happened. I don’t-” 

Y/N could tell how hard he was trying, how strong he was being. The simple act of standing there seemed to almost break him down, but he held himself together. She pushed aside her anger and pressed her hand to his chest in a calming gesture. 

He looked down with the tiniest ghost of a smile.

She softened her voice. “Has a doctor talked to you yet?” 

Sam nodded. “Just now.” 

“What did they say?” 

“He’s um… They have to wait for the swelling to come down and then-” 

He shrugged, it was all he could do. 

Y/N’s head was pounding, her arms felt like lead. She turned to look back at the bed, at the old man lying unconscious surrounded by machines. He looked pale, cold. The thin hospital blanket wasn’t enough. She wanted to run to her car and grab another, cover him up, hold him close, but her feet wouldn’t move. She was stuck in place, looking through the glass doors as Bobby clung to life.

Her whole world was shattering and autopilot took over. There were no more words, no more questions, there was only the eerie quiet between them and the constant mechanical beeping.

At some point, she and Sam found chairs and they sat stoically sharing their pain. He clung to her and she covered him the best she could with much smaller hands.   

“He’s gonna die,” she whispered. She was staring, unblinking at the base of the hospital bed, wondering what all the different pedals and levers did. “He’s gonna die.” 

Sam sucked in a shuddering breath. “Yeah. I think so.” 

“He ain’t dyin’. Not today.” 

Dean startled them both with his refusal to admit the truth and his sudden appearance. He towered over them and Y/N tore her eyes from Bobby and looked up at Dean. 

His eyes were wide and bloodshot, the skin dark beneath. He was trembling slightly but doing his best to hide it behind a clenched jaw and tight fists. 

She wanted to yell at him, to force him to see reality, but she was distracted by a drop of blood. It fell from his hand and struck the top of his boot, splashing like a raindrop onto pavement. 

“You’re bleeding.” 

He looked down and flexed his fingers. His knuckles were torn and bleeding. 

“It’s fine.”

Y/N stood up and grabbed his hand, looking it over. “It’s gonna get infected,” she sighed. “Come on…” 

They found an empty room down the hall that seemed unused. Most of the lights were off and the ones that were on were old and dim. They snuck in and Y/N forced Dean to sit on the edge of the bed. He was quiet but she could feel the anger pushing off of him. She could see it in his eyes; feel it in the tension of his fingers. 

“What’d you do, punch a wall?” 

Dean huffed and cleared his throat. “A- uh- glass window thing.”

Y/N sighed as she dug through a cabinet, plucking out alcohol swabs and gauze. “You think that was wise?” 

Dean tipped his head back and closed his eyes. He was exhausted, scared, and running from defeat. 

“Was that or the guy’s face.” 

She pulled up a stool and steel tray, laid out her instruments and sat across from him. 

“Then I guess you did the right thing.” 

He let her examine his cuts, winced as she pulled a piece of glass from the middle knuckle, hissed when the alcohol hit his open flesh. 

Y/N scoffed and hit him again with the cold fluid. “Baby.” 

He cocked his head and looked at her. “You know I love it when you call me that.” 

She met his eye and pursed her lips. “Of all the times, Dean. Now is not a good one.” 

He shrugged and offered half a smile in apology. 

“I’m glad you called.” She wrapped his hand up carefully, sure to make it tight but not too tight. “Thank you.” 

Dean licked his lips and dropped his head, staring at the old tiles covering the floor. They were dingy and the glaze was cracked. Just like him. 

“Thought you’d wanna be here,” he replied. 

“I do. Thanks.” She smiled sadly and patted his arm. “All done.” 

“You’re a hell of a nurse, Y/N/N.” 

“Don’t you know it.” 

She moved to stand, but Dean grabbed her. He pulled at her arms and tugged the stool forward until she was between his legs. She looked up in surprise and then blinked back a fresh swarm of tears. 

“Don’t do that,” he whispered, cupping her cheeks in his warm hands and brushing away a tear with his thumb. “You do that and I’ll do that and then where will we be?” 

“Crying in an ancient hospital room,” she teased. 

He laughed. 

She sighed. 

He’d be OK. 

“Dean, I-” 

His kiss was slow but desperate. He held her face, kept her locked to him as his lips pressed tight against her mouth. She was surprised but not really. This is what he did. He called when he needed her, kissed her when he felt hopeless, let his hands roam when he needed to feel alive and connected. 

It didn’t matter why, it just mattered that it happened. 

Y/N melted against him, parting her lips for his tongue, and breathed him in. He smelled like cheap cologne and smoke, like whiskey and three days without a shower. He stank. He was filthy. His stubble burned her lips. He felt like heaven. 

Dean seemed to find his breath again within her and he sucked at her lips, kissed across her jaw, sank his teeth gently into the crook of her neck. Y/N’s eyes were rolling, her skin burning, heart racing. 

“Dean, we shouldn’t-” 

He sat back, green eyes dark and wide as he looked her over. He ran his fingertips across the hem of her shirt, followed her collarbone across on each side. He was there but not; a mechanical body moving because it had to, but his mind was elsewhere. His mind was back in that room with Bobby. 

“Dean…” 

As much as she wanted his hands to move down a little further, to sneak up beneath her shirt, rip her clothing away, she knew she couldn’t do it. She placed her hands on his wrists and pulled them gently off of her shoulders. 

He startled, shoved back into himself. He blinked quickly and then stood up, pushing her back on the rolling stool. 

“I- I’m sorry, Y/N/N-”

Shaking his head, he wrenched the door open and escaped, leaving her alone in the dim light, surrounded by the ghost of a moment and bloody wrappings. 

She wasn’t sure how long she sat there picking at her cuticles and absorbing the night. She wanted to break down, to run away and scream as loud as she could until she couldn’t anymore, but that wasn’t her. She was the bedrock, the warm blanket, the calm in a stormy sea. If she wasn’t that, she wasn’t anything. 

After some time, she managed to stand. She wiped the tears from her cheeks and his kiss from her lips. 

She gathered up the mess she’d made and tossed it all in the bin. 

She shut the lights and walked back down the hall. 

A white coat flew past her, bumping her shoulder. She turned into the hit and watched the young doctor run towards an incoming trauma. 

Outside, sirens were blaring and nurses were shouting, but inside there was a steady ringing. A long buzz that Y/N slowly realized had replaced the beeping. 

She looked towards Bobby’s room, her vision blurred and her movements slow. 

Dean was at the foot of the bed, his hands on his head as he spun away. Sam was doubled over off to the side, slowly sliding to the floor. 

It didn’t make any sense. 

A nurse in bright blue scrubs and a white knitted sweater reached over the bed and shut off a monitor. The buzzing stopped. 

Bobby was dead. 

Anguish pumped through her system and Y/N broke into a run, screaming for help as she reached the room. 

“Please! Help him!” 

Dean tried to grab her, but she slipped through his arms. 

“Please! Why won’t you do something!” 

Her hands waved over his body, unsure where to land, unsure what to do. Tears stung her eyes and she let them fall, crashing down like a tidal wave onto the thin blanket. She pushed at his shoulders, trying to get him to move, but there was no response. 

“Please!” 

She cupped her hands over his heart and tried to push down with all of her strength, to force his heart to start again, but it was no use. 

“Bobby, please!” 

She climbed up onto the bed and beat on his chest; her cries growing more desperate, more pitiful. 

“Bobby-” 

When he couldn’t stand it any longer, Dean grabbed her by the waist and yanked her off of the bed. 

“Get off of me!” 

She struggled against his hold, kicking at him to get back to the bed, but his arms were too solid, his grip too strong. 

“Y/N, stop!” 

She hissed and slapped at the arm around her middle, but Dean wouldn’t let go. 

“Dean! Let! Go!”

She clawed at his hands and Dean pulled her closer. He dropped his head and pressed it against hers. His eyes fell closed. 

“Y/N/N, he’s gone. He’s gone.” 

Dean’s voice bounded off of every corner of her mind, echoed into the deepest parts of her. She stopped fighting and collapsed, legs giving out and sending them both to the cold floor. Dean fell with her and wrapped his arms around her, curling her into his chest. 

“He can’t go,” she sobbed, fingers climbing up his chest to find something to hold on to. “He can’t. He can’t. He can’t…” 

Dean cradled her head, rocked them both gently. “Shh… I’ve got you.”

“He can’t go, Dean… He can’t.” 

He shivered against her and pressed his lips to her forehead. “I’ve got you.” 

She ran. As soon as the sun rose and she could see clear enough to drive, she was gone. She was broken and devastated and the worst part was, he hadn’t asked her to stay. 

So, she ran. 

Tourniquet Tags:

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[67midnightwriter]

I’ve always loved this pair 🥹🥹

QUELIOT!

Quentin was trembling. Eliot could feel him shake as he ran his hands slowly up Quentin's back. His pale skin flushed and goosebumps broke out beneath the pads of Eliot's fingertips. 

“Are you OK?”

Q's brows twisted and a nervous pang hit his gut. “Um- yeah. Fine. I think.”

Eliot laughed softly. “That's your problem. You think too much.” Carefully, he traced an invisible line across Quentin's shoulders. “Gotta turn that brain off.”

Swallowing hard, Q did his best to relax, to melt into the warm pool of Eliot's chestnut eyes. “Yeah,” he eeked out in a shaking breath. “Yeah. No thinking.”

It was easier said than done, they both knew, but Eliot wouldn't let him back away.

He smiled. “Just trust me, OK?”

Quentin sighed, finally releasing everybody of tension in his mind and body. He cupped his hand against Eliot's cheek and grinned gently. “I always do…

[67midnightwriter]

I know how this entire thing plays out already and it doesn’t change how beautifully written this entire piece is, or how emotionally charged it is. Highly recommend 😍😍

Tourniquet - Chapter Four

A Supernatural Dean x Reader Series Told Backwards

~Y/N has been by Dean’s side through his worst days, always there if he needs her, forever just a call away. Love is impossible to fight and more impossible to live with. Just a side character in his epic life, Y/N would give anything just to give Dean a moment’s peace.~

Please see MASTERLIST for full info/warnings/chapter links.

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

The Things She Carried

She hadn’t seen him in years. 

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to. God, she wanted to so badly. She wanted to run into his arms, bury her face in his chest and fall asleep. She wanted to wake up next to him, count each freckle in the golden light of dawn. She wanted it all, she wanted him. 

But she couldn’t. She couldn’t bring herself to track him down, drive across the miles and land at his doorstep. She couldn’t imagine facing him after so long away, couldn’t bear the thought that he’d cast her away like some old trinket destined for the bin. 

She couldn’t risk it. She was road-weary and drained to the point of constant pain. Every muscle ached; every bone felt hollow and brittle. She was exhausted in her soul. She was done. 

Late at night she would lie awake and stare at whatever ceiling was overhead replaying her life, her choices good and bad. 

Maybe things would be different if she had run away with him when they were kids. Maybe she should have crossed the little stream sooner, hidden with him in the tall grass until they could escape and disappear forever. Would life be so different? Would they be together? Alive? Would the world still be turning if not for the sacrifices he’d made?

What about the sacrifices she’d made? What about all the days she spent alone, holding herself as blood seeped through her fingers? All the times she dropped everything to be there for him, all the days she spent worrying, all the nights she spent giving him whatever he needed whenever he needed it. Would anyone even remember her when she was gone? Would he?

Fuck him. He ruined one of the most important moments in her life. He stole her chance to say goodbye. While she reeled from his kiss, tried to make sense of his affection, the only other man she had ever loved had died. 

He died and she wasn’t there. He died knowing she wasn’t around. 

Fuck him for that. Fuck him for sleepless nights on the phone calming him down, listening to every trial and tribulation of his life. Fuck him for miles spent rushing to his side to wrap her heart around his wounds, staunch the flow. 

Fuck him for every kiss. 

Fuck him for every touch. 

For every fucking moment. 

The boy with the green eyes. 

Roswell, New Mexico, 2015. 

A string of murders of suspicious nature led older residents to announce that the aliens had returned to take revenge on the naysayers and folks there only to make a buck on the sacred landing spot. 

Y/N hadn’t been able to resist such a ridiculous scene and spent a week there investigating. 

In the end, they were just regular old murders committed by a regular old crazy person. No demons, no ghosts, and certainly no aliens were to be found. 

With nowhere else to be, she hung around the desert for a few more days, enjoying the sun and the dry air. 

She almost didn’t answer the phone when it rang, but curiosity had brought her to New Mexico in the first place, so there was no reason to deny its hold. 

Luckily, it wasn’t him. 

It was Sam. 

“Well, if it isn’t baby boy Winchester.” She laid back on the hood of her car and kicked up a knee. 

“Hey, Y/N.” 

He sounded terrible. Lack of sleep or too much stress, she couldn’t tell. She didn’t know Sam as well. Hadn’t studied him as closely, hadn’t learned every tick of speech, the meaning behind every subtle sigh.

Still, he didn’t sound great. 

“What’s going on, Sam?” 

He hesitated, swallowed hard, shifted the phone to his other ear. “I hate to ask you, I know you’re… Well, you’ve got your own thing going on, but-” 

Her eyes closed, her stomach churned. 

“Is he OK?” She couldn’t stop the tremble in her voice and she hated it. 

Sam cleared his throat. “No. No, I don’t think so.” 

“Shit.” 

Last she’d heard through the grapevine, Dean had died, again, and come back as a demon. She didn’t get a call back then, so for Sam to ask for help now- it was bad.

“I think he’d, uh… really like to see you.” 

The eleven-hour drive seemed endless, but it gave her time to think. 

No matter what she did, he would always be a part of her. No matter how far she ran, tried to hide, he would always win out in the end. It was useless to fight it, stupid to even try. 

Sam had given her directions to their place and Y/N stood outside of what looked to be an industrial hobbit hole.  

She leaned on her car and stared at the hill. There was still time to turn tail and hit the highway. He’d never even know she had been there. 

She fiddled with the chain around her neck, sucked on the metal pendant. It was warmed from her body heat though she always believed it got hotter when he was close. 

“Damn it, Y/N/N, just go in…” She groaned and turned away, too scared to go inside. Scared or mad, she didn’t know which. 

Just as she put one foot in the car, the big doors opened and Sam appeared. 

He was tall and tired, with a shadow on his jaw and worry in his eyes. She wondered vaguely if she had ever seen Sam without that crease in his aura, if he’d ever been truly calm and happy. 

“You gonna come in or-”

She sighed and shut the door. “How’d you know I was here?” 

He shrugged and gave her a mischievous look. “I may have been tracking your phone.” 

“What! Sam…” 

He smiled and then pushed at the door, holding it open for her. 

“You coming?” 

“Well, it’d be stupid to run away now.” 

She followed him into the hobbit hole and through another, heavier door. The first room was basically a dark hallway, four steps down from the outer doors and a few paces to the next. The walls were old concrete and the light was dim. She held no hope for nicer things to come. 

She was very wrong. 

Her little gasp echoed when she walked through the second door. The cave-like entry gave way to an expansive room that took her breath away. A wrought iron balcony met intricate stairs that wound down forever. The room below was set up with a large, map-covered table that glowed, antique computers and machines that looked as if they were sourced from a 1950’s horror movie. 

Clasping the rail, Y/N leaned over a bit, trying to comprehend the size of everything but her head hurt. She looked back at Sam and shook her head, eyes wide with awe. 

“You live here?” 

Sam nodded and shrugged. He smiled at her wild wonder and stood beside her at the railing. “There’s more. It’s, uh- it’s a really big place.” 

“Tell me you have a bowling alley or an arcade hiding somewhere in here.” 

He laughed. “No, but we do have a tv. Well, I do. In my room.” 

Y/N whistled, mockingly impressed. “Wow. Real rockin’ bachelor pad, Sam.” 

He licked his lips and looked down at his hands. His knuckles were pale, fingers cold against the metal. “Yeah, well, we don’t get many visitors.” 

She covered his hand with hers and squeezed gently. “Wanna show me the rest?”

The Men of Letters Bunker was just as impressive as he made it sound. They toured the halls while Sam explained how they came to be there, speaking candidly about his grandfather’s reappearance and how strange it was to finally have a real place to call home. 

She listened to every word, now and then offering a kind word or an interested hum. Her mind was reeling at the enormity of the Bunker. She ran her fingers over the dips between the tiles on the walls, listened carefully to how Sam’s voice echoed off of the cathedral ceilings and back again. She counted their steps, tried to construct a map in her mind so that she could find her way back to the front door, but the path was full of turns and every corridor looked the same as the last. The numbers on the doors changed, however, but they weren’t in any order that she could define. 

They stopped in front of door number eleven, and Sam shoved his hands into his pockets. His gaze narrowed on the gap between the door and the jam. The light inside was on, but he knew Dean wasn’t there. 

“This is his room?” she asked, wanting to push her way inside but afraid to pry. 

Sam cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

She placed her hand on the door and closed her eyes. She wanted to go in and wait for him, be laid out on the bed like some porn star when he walked in, but she knew better. 

The kitchen was impressive in an old restaurant that had never been upgraded kinda way, but the pantry was pitiful. Thankfully, there were a few eggs in the fridge and a half of a loaf of white bread on the shelf. Sam left her to it and she got to work making an utter mess of the counter and stove. 

She didn’t expect him back soon and he hadn’t expected to see her at all. 

“Y/N?” 

Her entire being tensed when she heard his voice and she took a breath, closed her eyes, and turned around. Spatula dripping in her hand, she screwed up a smile. 

“Surprise.” 

Every emotion imaginable flowed over his freckled face and Y/N waited for him to process before saying another word. Green eyes worked her over, lingering on the smudge on her cheek and the mess on her shirt. 

Finally, he smiled. 

“Nice surprise.” 

Her body relaxed. “Is it?” 

“Of course.” 

Dean rushed forward, rounding the giant stainless steel island, and scooped her up into a hug. 

Relief trickled down her spine and she wrapped her arms around him, pushed her face into the crook of his neck. He smelled like whiskey and sleepless nights. 

“Fuck, I’ve missed you.” He whispered into her shoulder and held on a little tighter. 

He was big and strong, solid and safe. She melted into him; listened for the comforting, steady beat of his heart. 

The necklace burned into her chest and she smiled. 

After a minute, she pushed at his shoulders but he refused to let her go. 

“You’re gonna make me burn your toast!”

He stood up straight and held her arms. “Toast? You’re making a real big mess for toast.” 

She squirmed out of his grip and turned back to the stove. “It’s French.” 

They sat at the little table in the corner and drowned the snack in maple syrup and butter. 

Y/N couldn’t stop staring at him. His face was thin; his beard slowly sneaking out of captivity. His eyes were dark, lined with red, and he held himself differently, as if every second was painful, as if he was having trouble sitting still. 

He was staring just as hard, shocked that she was there after being gone for so long. 

“Your hair’s different,” he said around a mouthful of French toast.

She cocked her head and ran a hand through her locks. “I guess,” she laughed. “It’s been a while since I cut it. Probably should.” 

Dean shook his head gently. “Nah. I like it.” 

It wasn’t even really a compliment but she took it as one. Her stomach flipped and she hated herself for enjoying such a tiny amount of attention. She was older now, wiser, stronger. She didn’t need his approval or his affection. 

“Thanks.” 

“This is…nice. Thank you for cooking.” 

Y/N laughed and choked down a corner. “It’s terrible and you know it.”

Dean shrugged and took another forkful to his lips. “It ain’t that bad.” He shoveled it in and then cringed, plucked a crunchy bit from his tongue. “I… think there’s shell in this one.”

She grinned. “I’m surprised there’s not more, actually. You know I’m a shitty cook.”

He laughed. “Always have been.” 

“It’s kinda my thing.” 

A strange moment passed between them like an autumn breeze. The air was warm but the wind was too harsh, chilling their cheeks. Y/N looked away, crossing her arms and rubbing her hands up the sides. Dean swallowed and sat back; knife and fork in his fists beside the plate. 

“So, how ya been?” 

Y/N looked around, pretending to inspect the kitchen walls, but only trying to buy herself time to think up an answer. 

“Oh, you know me, Dean. Another day, another highway, another monster to kill.” 

He licked a drop of syrup from his lip. “Musta been busy.” 

She nodded. “Yeah, pretty busy.” 

“Too busy to answer a text? Pick up the phone now and then?” 

Her guts churned. “Dean, it’s not like that…” 

He slumped forward, set his forearms on the table. “Oh, it’s like that. You vanished, Y/N/N.” 

His tone was biting and she shivered. 

“Dean-” 

“You just took off. No goodbye, nothing.” 

Anger was brewing inside and her leg bounced uncontrollably under the table. “Dean.” 

“We burned him. Without you.”

Something inside of her shattered. The words cut through her like a scythe; his tone burned like salt in the sliced flesh. She clenched her jaw, closed her eyes, and tried to push it all aside. 

“You left,” he seethed, upper lip trembling and exposing his tiny canine teeth. She always thought they looked like fangs, always loved the way they scraped across her throat. “We burned him and you weren’t there. I- we needed you and you left. You ran away to God knows where and that was it. We needed you, Y/N. I… I needed you.” 

With fists balled, she stood up, spun away from the table. She bit her tongue so hard she was sure her mouth would fill with blood. 

Dean laughed sarcastically. “Yeah. Walk away again. That’s awesome.” 

Her spine twitched. Nails dug into her palms. 

She tasted blood. 

“So fucking good at walking away when people need you.” 

She snapped. 

“Excuse me?” 

Her spin around was so fast, her hands slammed onto the table so hard that Dean startled and dropped his utensils. Unconsciously, he sat back, putting as much distance between him and the lioness he’d just unleashed. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Her words curled but there was no question. She was giving him a speck of a chance to apologize before she truly exploded. “Well… are you?” 

Dean sucked his teeth, crossed his arms, sat forward. He met her gaze head on. His nostrils flared. 

“You left,” he said again, slowly, venomously. 

Y/N pulled in a deep breath but instead of calming her, it only added to the fire. “You didn’t ask me to stay, Dean.” 

He shook his head, confused. “Huh?” 

“You didn’t ask me to stay, Dean,” she said again, injecting as much slashing accusation into her voice as she could. “You never do. You expect me to show up whenever you want me, drop whatever I’m doing to come meet you somewhere so you can fuck your frustrations out on me then kick me out of bed in the morning. Do you know how many bruises I have from tripping over the curb when you drive away? How many nights I’ve stayed awake worrying about you? Praying for you? Not to mention all the nights I had to stay on the phone with you while you blubbered on about this and that, and your brother, and your angel, and your destiny. Do you know how much of my life I’ve spent waiting on a fucking phone call from you? How many days I’ve wasted just hoping you’d ask to see me? You can’t imagine it. You wouldn’t. Because you don’t care.” 

Anger and guilt flooded his face. He swung his legs around from under the table and stood up, towering over her with a puffed chest and searing eyes. 

“You think I don’t care about you?” He hunched his shoulders, leaning down to let it all sink in. “Is that really what you think?” 

She took a step closer. She wouldn’t back down no matter his size or the angry fire pulsing off of him. She wouldn’t give him the satisfaction. 

“Yeah, Dean,” she said sharply. “It is. Because it’s fucking true. You don’t give a shit about me, you never have. I’m just a goddamned Band-Aid for you. Something you put on when you’ve got a booboo and then rip off and toss away. And the one time I needed you. The one fucking time…” 

Dean was seeing red; his blood was boiling and brightening his pallid face. 

“When? When the fuck did you need me so badly!” 

She grit her teeth, showed her fangs for once. “He was my father, Dean.” 

He scoffed. “No. He wasn’t.” 

“Fuck you for saying that! He was my father the same as, if not more so than he was yours and he died while I was in the dark wondering how I could help you. You! You fucked me up in that hospital room and then you left me alone to deal with it. And he died while I was in there! He died and I wasn’t there because I was dealing with you!” 

Dean straightened, but he didn’t move to speak. He only absorbed her ire and let it burn inside of him. 

“Always dealing with you! My whole goddamned life revolves around Dean Winchester! And you know what I got for all the care and time and worry I poured into you? Nothing. I get fucking nothing. I have never been so lost as when he died and you… You didn’t ask me to stay. Didn’t… didn’t check on me. The only calls I got were from you begging me to help with Sam and to meet you in Oswego for a fucking booty call. That’s all I am to you. I’m your fucking whore.”

He huffed, chewed his lip. “That is not true!”

She wouldn’t stop, couldn’t. The simple act of raising her voice, of confronting him after everything had opened a tap that she couldn’t close. 

“And you spent a whole goddamned fucking year with her. A year! I didn’t even know if you were alive, dead, nothing. You promised to call me. You swore. And nothing. You went to her. You- did you even think of me? Did you even think, ‘oh, maybe I’ll go be with Y/N for a while’? Well? Did you?” 

His eyes closed. “No, Y/N. I didn’t.” 

“I have given you years of my life and you’ve just… Fuck, I don’t even know if you take me for granted or if you don’t even notice if I’m around or not. I honestly don’t know.”

She turned away, exhausted and aching. 

She couldn’t see the way he rubbed at the curse on his arm, didn’t notice the rage glowing in his eyes. She didn’t feel the danger because she never felt it around him. She could scream all she wanted, but she knew Dean wouldn’t hurt her. 

“If you hate me so goddamn much, why are you even here? Huh? What, did Sammy call you? Tell you I wasn’t doin’ so well?” 

Each word snapped at her like kitchen shears and Y/N spun back around. 

“Fuck you, Dean.” 

As tears fell, she raised her right hand, ready to slap him hard; show him she wasn’t fooling around. 

The Mark swelled on his arm and shot demonic power into his veins. 

Dean grabbed her wrist before she made contact with his cheek and took two steps forward, forcing her backwards into the wall. He slammed her hand onto the plaster and followed suit with her left hand. She gasped, scared but daring him, and he sneered down at her. 

“Don’t. Fucking. Ever. Hit me.”  

The Mark glowed beside her head and she looked from it to him, stuck and devastated. 

“Do you hear me!” 

Strength pulsed through him and Dean lifted her away from the wall only to crush her back into it. 

Her eyes blurred, her head ached; her ears rang. 

“Dean-” 

“You think you know anything about me? You don’t know what I’ve been through! You haven’t been around!” 

His grip tightened on her wrists and she felt the bone in the right twist. 

“Dean! You’re hurting me!”

It seemed he couldn’t stop, wouldn’t let the anger dim. His breath came out in heavy pants through tight lips and clenched teeth; his eyes were like lasers targeting her arteries and setting him up for the kill. 

“Dean!” 

Another tear trekked down her cheek and it caught his attention. 

Dean blinked quickly, clearing his head, and then backed away. He dropped her hands and covered his face, turned his back on her. 

Y/N couldn’t move. 

Silence filled the room and their heads. Guilt ravaged their bodies. 

Her knees gave out and she slid down the wall, slumped to the floor. 

When she could finally speak, her voice was small and pathetic and she hated herself even more. 

“I… I’m sorry, Dean.” 

Calmer now, Dean turned to find her in a heap on the floor and sank down as well. “Don’t be sorry, Y/N/N. I… fuck. Did I hurt you?” 

She shook her head and sat up straight, kicked her knees up to her chest. 

He crawled to her, tried to lay a hand on her knee, but she flinched away. 

“Shit,” he hissed. “I’m so sorry.” 

Y/N let out a hard breath and let her shoulders fall. She trusted him. She didn’t trust that thing on his arm. 

She nodded toward it. “Is it really bad?” 

He rolled up his sleeve and showed off his brand. Curious and horrified, she unfurled herself and leaned in, running a careful finger across the Mark. The flesh was hot, the skin raised and rough. She covered it with her hand and looked up into his face. 

“I can’t take it much more,” he whispered. “It’s gonna take over and I don’t wanna go back there.” 

Her heart hurt. “You don’t have to let it take you. You’re strong. You’re so fucking strong, Dean. So brave. So good.” 

He smiled softly and bent over; kissed her hand. 

“I’m so sorry I hurt you.” 

She sniffed back the tears and reached for him. 

“I coulda just kept my mouth shut,” she confessed. 

Dean lay his head on her shoulder and tugged her close. “No. You shouldn’t have to. I’ll be better, I promise.” 

“You don’t have to be better, Dean.” She turned inwards and pressed her lips to his ear. “You just have to be you.” 

His arms closed a little tighter, he breathed a little slower. 

“I really don’t deserve you, you know that?” 

She sighed and rubbed at the nape of his neck. 

“Shut up, Dean.” 

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[67midnightwriter]

This story just popped to the forefront of my mind and I went scrolling through reblogs and this reblog still makes me so proud. I don’t want this story to be my swan song, but it’s the last piece of writing I ever finished 😅

Angel Down

A/N: I wrote this for @impala-dreamer Make Me Feel It Challenge, and it took a little longer than expected, but I really hope you consider it worth the wait! Thank you @thoughtslikeaminefield​ and @boondoctorwho​ for the read through, and the amazing aesthetic. 

W/C: 2,887

Dean x Cas

Warnings: Angst, Heartache, Gore, Nightmares, Soul-Crushing

Summary: Cas takes on the Mark of Chuck, and Dean makes him a promise.

It wasn’t something that had hit him out of nowhere, a life-changing bolt of lightning sent from Zeus. Rather, it was something that came second nature, a reaction rather than revelation, akin to how the human brain knows instinctively to take in oxygen. Dean had heard somewhere you couldn’t successfully drown yourself, and while he had never tested that himself, he knew trying to stop loving Castiel would feel about the same, and that he had put to trial. Time and time again they had pushed each other away, been torn apart, lost to the other, but in the end, they came back together.

“It has to be you.” Cas’s gruff voice was loud compared to the soft clinks of spell ingredients hitting the bowl. Dean huffed, not answering an unspoken question he refused to acknowledge. He tore herbs mechanically, losing himself in the instructions on the aged paper to his left. Cas reached out and laid a hand on top of his, and Dean noticed his own hands were trembling. “Dean.” The tone was soft and commanding, tearing Dean’s gaze from his hands and directing it to deep blue eyes. “Promise me. It has to be you.”

Keep reading

[67midnightwriter]

When he had to watch the empty take Cas

would you be so kind as to either reblog this and answer or send me a message/ask with

that once scene in SPN where you wished with all your heart that you could reach into the screen and comfort Dean Winchester... the one that every time you watch it, your soul aches for him and you wish there was anything you could do to save him the pain...

this is one of mine:

[67midnightwriter]

Literary Giveaway!

Young women around the country are going missing and the only one who seems to care is unlucky FBI agent Nora Hammond. Not even her partner, ladies' man Jason Carter, thinks it's worth looking into.

Meanwhile, the TruLove Corporation has a new line of luxury sex dolls that will truly love you back - for a price. When the dolls start attacking their owners, the FBI is called in to investigate and things with Nora and Jason get a little sticky...

INSTAR Meditations by Rebekah Jordan is available now at Barnes & Noble or Amazon on paperback and ebooks!

But you can snag your own free, personalized, autographed copy by entering this giveaway! Just reblog this post as many times as you'd like and each reblog will be entered into the drawing. (Must be over 18 years old and have a mailing address within the Continental U.S. Giveaway dates 10/2/23 - 10/23/23)

Additional titles by Rebekah Jordan can be found on her author page on Amazon.com ~ More short stories and inside info on Patreon ~ Support your local independent authors ~

[67midnightwriter]

Ok, this might not seem too impressive to most of you, but for me... the new book, Instar Meditations, has already outperformed all of my other titles in just 10 days and is constantly climbing the amazon kindle rankings. (I still can't see sales... waiting on the publisher, but anyway). To me... these numbers are amazing.

In comparison, my other books are in the 4 millions on kindle store and over 500,000 in romance books. So... 1900 in my genre is kinda huge for me.

Basically, I'm freaking out lol

Thank you so much to everyone that has purchased a copy. Thank you to those who have recommended it to others. This is so cool and really has me itching to get back to my writing 💖💖

[67midnightwriter]

The Book is in hand...

Check out the info below, and if you'd like to order a signed copy from the source... shoot me a message ;)

[67midnightwriter]

HIGHLY recommend. And not just because I’m biased lol

Now Available at Barnes & Noble and Amazon

INSTAR MEDITATIONS by Rebekah Jordan

Young women around the country are going missing and the only one who seems to care is unlucky FBI agent Nora Hammond. Not even her partner, ladies' man Jason Carter, thinks it's worth looking into.

Meanwhile, the TruLove Corporation has a new line of luxury sex dolls that will truly love you back - for a price. When the dolls start attacking their owners, the FBI is called in to investigate and things with Nora and Jason get a little sticky...

Kidnapping Investigations, Sex, Hypnosis, Corporate Intrigue, Technosexuality, and Love... All packed into this awesome new story by Rebekah Jordan!

Get it now at now at Barnes & Noble or Amazon on paperback and ebooks!

More titles by Rebekah Jordan can be found on her author page on Amazon.com

[67midnightwriter]

I love Cas so much

His Charge

A Supernatural Story

~Y/N is remanded to Castiel's care while the Winchesters go take care of a very angry deity who had taken her hostage. While they wait, she and Castiel get into an in depth conversation about the metaphysics of his being, and she gets him to show her his wings...~

2,562 Words.

Warnings: NSFW. Talk & Loving. Fluff

A/N: Been a hot minute since I've posted any Castiel. I think you'll enjoy this. It's super good... I just reread it. lol. If you enjoy it, please reblog :)

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

“What do they look like?”

Sapphire eyes looked up through thick, black lashes to see beautiful gems staring back.

Y/N smiled behind her whiskey glass and Castiel blushed. He was far from used to such adoration or attention.

“What do what look like?” he asked, countering her question with another.

She laughed softly and set the glass down on the table. The glowing map beneath illuminated the amber liquid and cast a strange array of orange prisms across the table.

“Your wings.”

Her voice was as soft as a song, but held a hint of mischief. Castiel felt something stir deep inside of his vessel as her eyes drifted down from his face to his chest and shoulders. She lingered on his right shoulder and he denied a shiver.

Castiel cleared his throat. “They are… quite large and impressive.”

Y/N bit her lip and laughed. “That’s what she said.”

His head tipped to the left, his nose bunched in confusion. “She?”

“Never mind.”

She looked away, dipping her chin to look down into the whiskey and then back up. Only her eyes moved back to him and Castiel’s face burned hot. He hid the blush, but beneath the surface, he was going wild. His body yearned for her, but he couldn’t make himself take a chance. He hadn’t exactly had the best experiences with human women, and besides, Y/N was barely a friend, almost a stranger. She was his charge. He was there to watch over her while Sam and Dean tracked down the Druid God that was after her; his job was to save her life, not get involved sexually.

If, he thought, that’s what she even wanted.

He often had trouble discerning flirtatious behavior from simple polite conversation. Dean once slapped him on the arm and told him to read their minds, shocked that Cas had such a power but never used it to get any, but that wasn’t something Castiel could bring himself to do. Not unless they asked.

Still, without even trying, he could tell that her heart rate increased slightly when he met her gaze, that her skin flushed nearly imperceptibly when he stared a bit too intensely. He knew that her nipples were hard because he could see with an Angel’s vision through the thin fabric of her t-shirt and cotton bra. He could even smell that faint wetness that dripped down into her panties.

But still, he couldn’t make himself move.

Castiel jolted when Y/N spoke again, her fingers running slowly over the rim of the crystal tumbler. Her tone was deeper, words spilled from her lips slowly, coating him in thick warmth from head to toe.

“I wish I could see them,” she said, lifting the glass to her lips. “I bet they’re beautiful.”

She took a deep drink and Castiel watched as her body took it in. He saw the whiskey splash onto her tongue, flood her taste buds, slither down her throat as her muscles contracted. He could smell the woody scent of it, feel the heat as it burned the back of her throat. His stomach tightened and a wave of heat washed over his manhood. His cock twitched but he took a breath and did his best to keep his vessel under control.

He swallowed hard. “Thank you, but-”

“But what,” she interrupted, licking a drop of liquid from her lip. “They’re too big to fit in this room? They’ll knock the walls down?”

Castiel laughed bashfully. “No-”

“They’re so amazing I’ll die from a peek at them?”

He looked directly into her eyes, unconsciously reaching down into the depths of her. “Most humans cannot handle the sight of them, no.”

“That’s… horrible. What, do they explode?” She laughed gently and took another drink, emptying the glass.

“No.” He sighed. “Most cannot handle the sight of the Divine purely because their minds cannot comprehend the truth of its existence. If I were to show you my true form, for instance, it might, as they say, blow your mind.”

Y/N bit her lip to hold in a drunken laugh. She inhaled deeply, drawing herself up in her seat as she took him in. “Well, I bet they’re magnificent.”

The way her tongue curled around her words, the brightness in her darkening eyes made his stomach tighten. She was definitely flirting, of that he was now sure.

He gave a subtle nod of thanks and tried to look anywhere but at the swell of her breasts. It became increasingly difficult as she leaned onto the table on her elbows, deliberately showing them off.

“So, what other magic powers do you have?” she asked slowly, her mouth a bit numb from the drink.

“I saw you shoot lightning out of your hand, so that’s one…”

Castiel smiled and turned to set his hands on the table casually. “Not lightning, no. Grace.”

“I thought that was just something you said before dinner.”

“No?”

Y/N laughed gently. “I’m teasing you, Castiel. So your Grace is like your superpowers.”

He puckered his lips in thought. “I suppose, technically, yes. If I were a superhero.”

She laughed again, this time easier, as if comfort had truly set in. She ran her eyes over his handsome face and Castiel swallowed hard.

“Oh, you’re a superhero.”

“I don’t have a cape,” he offered.

“Capes are for attention seekers. Trench coats, however…”

He looked down at his coat, suddenly a little self conscious.

Y/N licked her lips and slowly drew the bottom in snug between her front teeth. “Every badass character I’ve ever seen on t.v. wears a trench coat.”

He relaxed, smiling. “Well, then, I suppose- thank you.”

Y/N finished her drink. “I almost died today,” she said solemnly. “A few times. Like… more than once. I think I heard Gabriel blowin’ his horn for me.”

Castiel shook his head. “Gabriel was nowhere near-” She grinned and he laughed at himself.

“You’re not one for jokes, huh?”

“I enjoy them. Just takes me a moment sometimes.”

She was quiet for a bit, watching him, deciding. Then:

“So, you’re this giant ball of light, essentially, crammed into a human body.”

He shrugged but agreed. “Essentially.”

“And where’s the… uh… human that lived there first? Or is it like a snail situation?”

“His name was Jimmy Novack,” Castiel explained softly. “And he was a true believer. He offered me his vessel and we went through many trials together.”

“But he’s not here anymore?”

The Angel shook his head. “He is up in Heaven somewhere. Hopefully happy.”

“You don’t know for sure?”

“I could go look for him, I suppose, but-” He paused and looked off, flashes of guilt-ridden scenes raging through his head. “Best not to disturb him.”

“I getcha.” She leaned back and crossed her arms under her chest, making her breasts pop up deliciously. Castiel held his breath. “So, you’re all alone in some human body. All the same feelings, needs… urges?”

He felt the heat rise to his cheeks and this time, he let it linger. “I do not suffer human needs, no,” he said, almost instantly regretting it. Y/N nodded, a bit disappointed, and looked away. He cleared his throat and softened his tone. “I am in complete control of my vessel and I can do… those things…” Her eyes shot back to his. “If I choose to.”

A half smile turned her lips and Castiel let the warmth inside of him spread through every cell.

“If you choose to,” she echoed, biting her lip seductively. “And how often do you choose to?”

His mouth flooded with saliva and his blood began racing downwards. “Not… very often.”

Boldly, Y/N stood up and set her hand on the table. She dragged her fingers over the Pacific Ocean as she rounded the table to stand before him. Castiel could smell her arousal, feel the heat radiating off of her. She looked down at him and he met her gaze, wanting to grab her hips and pull her down, but afraid to move.

“And now?” she asked, sliding her fingertips up the California coast to steal the drink he’d never touched. Eyes still locked together, Y/N knocked back his whiskey and swallowed hard. She came back up with a slight cough and let the glass slip back over Oregon. “What do you choose now?”

He felt his testicals tighten and every part of his human body wanted to sink deep inside of her. His fingers twitched on his thighs and Castiel grabbed her hips just like he’d imagined, dragging her down into his lap.

“I choose this,” he groaned, leaning in to taste her lips while she rubbed down on his erection. She opened for him, parting her lips with a sweet slowness that nearly drove him mad. His tongue dove inside and she relented, letting him move and lick, suck and nip as he pleased.

Her hands pushed through his black hair, curled around the nape of his neck. She moaned into his mouth as he pawed at her left breast, sneaking his fingers into her shirt to pluck at her nipple. She arched into him and held on tight, dragging her hand down the center of his back.

His spine lit up with sensations and Castiel moaned loudly, pulling away from her mouth as she hit the base of his wings with her exploring hands.

Surprised, she blinked down at him. “Are you OK?”

Breathless, he nodded. “Yes.”

Y/N kissed the side of his mouth and then danced along his jaw, her hands scratching through his hair, tugging at his tie, working their way beneath the layers of suit and coat. Castiel massaged her ass, rolling his hips up into her jeans at a steady pace, loving the way she responded so easily to his motions.

She sat back suddenly and looked at him with wide eyes, irises fully blown and dark. “How- how long until the others get back?”

Unsure, Castiel closed his eyes and set out his spirit to find the Impala. They were still a state away. “A few hours, at least,” he replied, sneaking a hand up beneath her shirt.

Y/N smiled and yanked the shirt away, then her bra, coming back to him with renewed fervor. She sucked at his ear, nibbled on his non-existent pulse, kissed his stunned lips as he toyed with her breasts.

“Fuck, you feel good,” she whispered, nearly whimpering as he pinched her nipples in tandem.

“As do you…”

Y/N reached down between their legs and rubbed gently at the head of his cock. He was lost beneath too many pieces of fabric and she struggled to open his belt.

“Do you have any idea how much clothing you have on?” she teased.

Not catching the tone, Castiel’s brows furrowed. “Yes…” He gasped as she ripped the zipper down and shoved a hand into his slacks. The thin cotton boxers were no match for her probing fingers and Castiel let his head fall back as she stroked him to full hardness.

When she hopped off of him, blue eyes flew open wide, but all was understood as he watched Y/N peel her jeans away. She smiled as his gaze hovered over her plain blue panties and she held her breath while shaking those away as well.

Naked and dripping, she stood before him like a Renaissance statue. Curves and bumps, bruises and scrapes, the cream of her skin, the imperfect perfection of her; it was all there, on display, and Castiel reached for her, snaking his fingers between hers as their palms met.

“You’re beautiful,” he whispered, guiding her back into his lap.

She smiled against his lips and sank down onto his cock, drawing a deep moan from him. “So are you.”

She rode him slowly at first, rolling her hips gently as they kissed. When her hand slid behind his back again, he shuddered so deeply and jerked his hips upwards so quickly that she shivered and picked up her pace.

“Let me see them,” she whispered, running her hand over that sensitive spot on his back again.

Castiel groaned beneath her, his face smashed in the valley of her breasts. “I-I can’t.”

She took him in as deep as his thick cock would go, and kissed his panting lips. “Then let me feel. I want to feel the real you…”

Hands tight around her body, Castiel kissed her back, licking at her lips until she swooned in his arms.

“Close your eyes,” he ordered, “keep them closed.”

She did as he said, screwing her eyes closed tight while his wings unfurled. She felt the rush of wind, heard the sound as they grew to full size. He could see her struggle to keep her eyes shut, so he kissed her again, distracting her with his hot tongue.

Castiel bent his wings around them, encasing their bodies in the invisible feathers. She felt the tips caress her flesh, smelled the sea and the sky all around her. They were cool yet created a comforting warmth as they touched her, every graze sending blissful sensations through her body.

“My God,” she moaned, “Castiel… they’re… beautiful.”

He smiled and licked at her collarbone, thrusting upwards, fucking into her as she regained her barings.

One hand on his shoulder, the other wandered through the forest of feathers, gently stroking his wings as if touching the very essence of God.

Every brush of her fingers over his wings made his cock twitch and Castiel moaned without care, hiding his face in the crook of her neck as he fucked up into her dripping cunt.

“You’re so fucking amazing,” she cried, reaching back to caress the root of his wings, the source of it all.

Gritting his teeth, Castiel’s nails dug into her shoulders and hips, forcing her to work with him. He sent out a wisp of his Grace to fill her clit and Y/N screamed with orgasmic pleasure as she came hard and wet on his throbbing cock. One more jab of his hips and he came, shooting his load up into the depths of her.

It leaked down onto his slacks as she lifted up and collapsed into his arms.

“That-” Her head lolled against his shoulder and he held her close. “Amazing-”

Castiel kissed her cheek as she drifted into unconscious bliss, her body giving up after the intensity of it all. The long two weeks held captive by an insane deity, the realization of the Horrific and Divine, the orgasm he’d just thrust upon her; it had all caught up at once, and Y/N went limp against him.

He kept his wings out and around them as he carried her to his room.

It wasn’t truly his room, not really his bed as he never slept, but it was where he felt comfortable when he was relaxing. The pillows were soft and the blanket was always tucked in perfectly.

He lay Y/N down and untucked the blanket for the first time ever, gently draping it around her as she rolled onto her side.

Hand on her forehead, Castiel sent another faint wave of Grace through her, sending her into a deeper sleep.

“Rest well, Y/N…”

She smiled in her sleep, somehow whispering his name. “N’ght, Castiel.”

2023 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@aditimukul @agirlwithdemonblood @amanda-teaches @akshi8278 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @b3autyfuldisast3r-blog @babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @because-imma-lady-assface @bloodline1632 @charred-angelwings @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @covered-byroses @djs8891 @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @deansyahtzee @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @iamsapphine @idreamofdeanie @ilsawasanacrobat @impalaspixie @iprobablyshipit91 @jawritter @justcallmeasmodeus @kazsrm67 @kittenofdoomage @leigh70 @lovealways-j @lyarr24 @mariekoukie6661 @maggiegirl17 @mistressofallthingsgeeky @pandaxo79 @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @roseblue373 @sacriceria @samwellwinchesterthebrave @sexyvixen7 @spideysimpossiblegirl @spnexploration @stevekempscocktails @the-wounded-healer05 @thoughts-and-funnies @vulgar-library 

[67midnightwriter]

This series is an AMAZING read I HIGHLY recommend!

Captives of The Court - Masterlist

A Supernatural Series

~Strange things are brewing in Connecticut, so Dean and Y/N go check it out. After stumbling through town, they fall into something that's been going on a very, very long time. Can they put an end to the bloodshed and make it out unscathed or will they need a little help this time?~

Starring Dean Winchester x Y/N Y/L/N

Featuring Cameos by Sam Winchester, Rowena MacLeod, and OCs

21,500 Words - 13 Chapters

Series Warnings Include: NSFW. Magic. Angst. Captivity. Pregnancy Talk, Sex. Oral. Threesomes, Slavery, Murder, Blood, NonCon/DubCon, Bickering. Also lots of love and fluff.

Chapters:

One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen

[67midnightwriter]

Captives of The Court - Chapter Eleven

A Supernatural Series

~Strange things are brewing in Connecticut, so Dean and Y/N go check it out. After stumbling through town, they fall into something that’s been going on a very, very long time. Can they put an end to the bloodshed and make it out unscathed or will they need a little help this time?~

Starring Dean Winchester x Y/N Y/L/N

Series Warnings and Info may be found on the Masterlist Here 

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

Once every few generations, a child is born with such amazing and natural talent that, with the proper instruction and will, can become one of the most powerful witches alive. They can suspend time, force nature to bend to their whims, control the hearts and minds of men.

Bronwyn Cromwell was one such witch. Born to the teenage mistress of a Puritan minister, Bronwyn grew up in the shadows, cast aside by the colony and condemned to be treated as an abomination until the day she died. As she grew, however, her natural talents became apparent and she defied fate and became its mistress instead.

Her magic was strong, her desires great. Anything she wanted, she could have, anyone moving against her was well punished.

Cunning and intelligent, she moved under the radar during the Witch Trials and came out the other side stronger. Over time, she gained the trust of locals who came to her for everything from sudden fevers to love spells and she honed her talents on the colonists of Connecticut.

Three hundred years later, Bronwyn was one of the most powerful witches in the country, known and feared by many. Including, The Grand Coven, who, upon many occasions, tried in vain to get her to join. Forever declining their forceful invitations, she was content to live in her small town, working her magic on the townsfolk and keeping a select few loyal followers young and prosperous through her hand-crafted spellwork.

Sure, a dozen or so people needed to die every ten years, but that was a rather insignificant price to pay for keeping herself young and beautiful. Besides, she spread the wealth with others, and her brand of magic was rather delicious to experience if you were among her chosen acolytes.

Y/N was teetering on the very edge of consciousness, her body laid out and trembling beneath Dean’s heavy nakedness. He sucked at each breast, licked at the scrapes his teeth made down her sides, drew his fingertips across her flushed skin. She was trapped in moments of bliss, straining to clear her head and focus, to push Dean away and confront their captor, but his mouth was so hot, his perfectly plump lips tasked with driving her wild.

She raked a hand through his hair and tugged, hoping to wake him up even a little bit, but the pain only spread through him and made his suckling mouth work even harder.

She gasped and a gentle laugh sounded above her.

Bronwyn was circling them, watching as they fucked again and again. She had changed into a tight black dress of lace that clung to her curves and exposed her arms and shoulders. The leather corset bound around her middle accentuated every inch of her, and for a second, Y/N felt her mouth watering at the sight of her milky skin.

Dean shoved his face between her thighs and she startled.

“Wh-what are you doing to us?” she panted out, barely about to think about more than Dean’s nose thumping against her clit.

The witch smiled, ruby painted lips curling at the edges. “Just watching… I enjoy watching.” She paused and leaned in a bit, eyes on Dean as he licked through Y/N’s slick cunt. “He looks like he’s good at that. Is he?”

Y/N shook herself, trying to wake fully. It felt like kicking for the surface in a black ocean; hard to know which way was up.

“He’s…” She let out a deep moan and bucked her hips uncontrollably into Dean’s face. “Yes…”

Bronwyn hummed in appreciation. “Lucky girl.”

Y/N lifted her head from the plush carpet and hissed. She tried to move more, to swat at Bronwyn as she came near, but her arms were limp, hands capable of littler more than clinging to the carpet or Dean’s broad shoulders.

“What do you want from us?”

Bronwny knelt down beside Y/N’s head and smiled sweetly. “I just want you to cum, Y/N.” She dragged a finger down Y/N’s face from temple to jaw and her eyes rolled in ecstasy. “Will you cum for me?”

The witch’s touch was like a drug that seeped through Y/N’s pores into every cell. Her heart pumped the tainted cells through her body, flooding every inch of her as Dean devoured her aching cunt.

“I just need all those yummy little orgasms…”

Pleasure surged inside and Y/N screamed in unadulterated bliss as Dean tipped her over the edge. She came hard, pulsing on his thick fingers, and a wisp of purple light floated from between Y/N’s legs and up over their heads.

She tried to follow it, confused about what it was and why it was, but Dean had quickly shifted between her open thighs and fit his heavy cock against her heat.

“Dean… wake up, baby. We gotta-”

He thrust his hips and her vision went dark. She sank down again, lost in the pleasure, trapped by the spell.

The light continued its journey, slipping into a brass jar on the stone altar. Bronwyn grinned and snapped the lid shut, keeping their power safe.

It was all about the power. The act of sexual pleasure expelled an amazing amount of natural power and Bronwyn had long ago found a way to capture and harness that power for her spells. Every little act extruded a bit of power. Sex, love, impregnation, birth. It was all magic. One simply had to know what to do with it…

[67midnightwriter]

Tremble Like A Flower

...Wanna keep reading? It's live on patreon rn...

[67midnightwriter]

Captives of The Court - Chapter Nine

A Supernatural Series

~Strange things are brewing in Connecticut, so Dean and Y/N go check it out. After stumbling through town, they fall into something that’s been going on a very, very long time. Can they put an end to the bloodshed and make it out unscathed or will they need a little help this time?~

Starring Dean Winchester x Y/N Y/L/N

Series Warnings and Info may be found on the Masterlist Here 

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

Y/N looked through the window of the little shop and nodded to herself. “Crystals and fuckery.”

Dean cocked his head and peered through as well. The sill was lined with gemstones and crystals that glittered in the setting sun, jars of herbs and hanging things that made him sigh. “Seems so. Ready?”

She shrugged. “Don’t touch anything.” She wagged a finger in warning. “This can’t be a coincidence and I don’t feel like getting cursed, OK?”

He grinned. “When do I ever touch anything I shouldn’t? I’m a professional.”

He reached for the door and Y/N ticked off incidences on her fingers.

“Well, that time in Richmond where you picked up that cursed coin… Minot when you touched that painting and your skin started melting off… The rosary in Peekskill…”

Dean huffed. “I get the point. I won’t touch anything. I promise.”

Bells chimed as they entered and a short, perky redhead looked up from behind the counter.

“Welcome!” Her smile was bright. “How can I help you?”

Dean screwed on a charming smile and walked towards her as Y/N turned left, scanning the place.

“Hi,” he greeted, tugging his fake badge from his jacket. “Agent Don Henley. We’re in town investigating some homicides. Wanted to ask you a few questions about an ex employee of yours.”

The girl swallowed hard and her blue eyes went wide. “Oh! Um. I’m not- I don’t work- I mean, I work here but I’m not the owner.” She smiled up at Dean. “I’m Lydia. I just work here on Tuesdays and Thursdays after school.”

Dean nodded and smiled back, still charming his way in. He leaned down and set an elbow on the countertop. “Lydia. Lovely name. Tell me, did you know Lisa Abbot?”

Lydia cringed but tried to hide it. She stiffened, straightening up to her full height of just over five feet. “N-not really. I mean, she worked here for a while but I never really talked to her much. She was really quiet and stuff. Wasn’t until she met Dan that she opened up at all.”

“Dan?”

“Dan Thacher. He um…”

Dean squinted and rolled the name around in his head for a quick second before pinpointing the familiarity. “He was found with Lisa… Ah.”

Lydia bowed her head slightly. “Yeah. It was real sad.”

“I bet it was.” Dean pressed his lips together and leaned closer, gaining her attention and trust. “Why don’t you tell me more about them?”

Meanwhile, Y/N was searching the shop, mentally sorting through what was novelty magic and what was potentially dangerous. A few things stood out, but for the most part, it was oils and herbs and crystals wrapped in wire and hung on leather necklaces. Some stones with protection sigils carved into them stood out on a back shelf and Y/N leaned close, squinting at the talismans.

In the farthest corner, she spied an amethyst with what appeared to be Enochian writing etched onto each side. She reached for it, but pulled back at the last second, remembering her warning and admonishment of Dean’s habit of touching everything shiny.

“You can pick it up if you’d like.”

Startled, Y/N stood and turned to see an absolutely stunning woman staring back at her. “Uh-” Her jaw went slack as the woman took a step closer. “N-no, that’s alright.” She smiled but her brain couldn’t quite click back into working order.

The woman was breathtaking. Long golden brown hair hung past her slender shoulders; milky skin shone with a rosy undertone, and the plumpest, pinkest lips Y/N had ever seen curled into a gentle smile. Her eyes were gray but picked up every color around her like a kaleidoscope and Y/N got lost for a moment, staring in deep, desperate to name a color and lock her into a category.

“Please, go ahead.”

Her voice was sweet and heavy like honey and Y/N shook herself to break away.

“No,” she said again, taking a step back and clearing her throat. “But thank you.” Digging into her purse, she pulled her badge out and flashed it quickly. “Agent Smyth, FBI. And you are?”

A flash of pink tongue through a sly smile. “Welcome, Agent. My name is Bronwyn, this is my little shop.” She held out her arms and gestured to the shelves. The bell sleeves of her lilac dress waved like butterfly wings and Y/N found it hard to focus. “How can I help you?”

Y/N blinked slowly, her gaze drawn upwards to the cinched bustline of Bronwyn’s dress and the perfect curve of her breasts. “Uh…”

It wasn’t like her to be so easily distracted, especially by a woman, but Y/N was struggling to keep her mind clear and not stare too hard at the delicate flesh of Bronwyn’s throat or the way her hands moved so languidly through the air almost in slow motion.

“Um…”

Bronwyn laughed gently and Y/N snapped back into the moment.

She squared her shoulders and inhaled deeply, a mixture of dried herbs wafting through her head. “Well,” she began again, forcing herself to look anywhere but into the woman’s eyes. “We’re here to talk about… the… Lisa. Lisa Abbot. She used to work here.”

Bronwyn frowned gently. “Yes, what a tragedy. She was the sweetest young woman…”

“Anything you can tell me about her that might help us piece together what happened?”

Pink lips puckered and Y/N’s heart skipped.

“Well, I just don’t think I have any relevant information, Agent, I’m sorry.”

For some reason, Y/N believed her and couldn’t come up with a single question more. “Oh well.” She smiled and fell into staring again.

Dean’s laugh tugged her away and Y/N looked across the shop. He was fine, flirting with the college student and basically doing nothing of import. Y/N shook her head at him.

Bronwyn zoned in on the moment.

“Your partner?” she asked, eyeing Dean.

Y/N bit her lip and tried not to smile too hard. “Yeah. Um. Yes. He’s my partner. We, uh, work together.”

Bronwyn grinned knowingly. “There’s a bit more to it, I think.”

Y/N laughed. “What are you, psychic?”

She shrugged and waved her hands dramatically. “A witch. But, I can tell… you have strong feelings for him.”

Just then, Dean looked over his shoulder and caught Y/N’s eye. He smiled and her cheeks burned.

“And he for you, I see…”

Y/N nodded noncommittally, still trying to maintain her professional con. “I suppose.”

Bronwyn moved closer, slipping up against Y/N, and lay a hand on her shoulder. The touch was electric and Y/N sucked in a deep breath.

“You’re in love,” Bronwyn continued, her voice a sultry whisper in Y/N’s mind. “You both are.”

Y/N sighed happily. “Yeah. I think so.”

“Ready to settle down and start a family…”

That made Y/N jolt awake and she laughed, moving back a pace. “Uh, no.”

“You wouldn’t want to have his child?” She looked over at Dean. “He’s gorgeous. Strong, caring, brave…”

Y/N agreed, staring at her lover. “He is, yes. But… I mean, it’s not like I wouldn’t have his kid, I just… I don’t want to.” Suddenly annoyed, she turned back to the witch and crossed her arms defensively. “Why is it some imperative thing that I have a baby? Just because I’m a woman I have to have children to fulfill some societal task? Conform to everyone’s idea of a contented female? I love him, he loves me, that’s enough.” She shook herself and calmed a bit, not sure why she was being so blunt with a stranger. “Besides, our lives- the way we live… it-it wouldn’t be fair to bring a baby into any of it.”

Bronwyn watched her spin out, interest in her gray eyes. “Government go you down, huh?”

Y/N shrugged. “Something like that.”

Her hand fell to Y/N’s shoulder again and a warmth spread through her body.

“I think things will change soon,” Bronwyn whispered. “You just have to let them.”

The warmth traveled her system, and Y/N smiled dreamily. “Maybe… yeah…”

“Love is a powerful thing, Y/N. Touch, sex, conception… creation…”

Something stirred in Y/N and her nose scrunched up. “How do you know my-”

Dean appeared before them both, his gaze immediately drawn to Bronwyn’s ample bosom. “Well, hello…”

Y/N jerked away from the witch’s touch and spun to stand beside Dean. She brushed his hand with hers and shivered.

“I… think we got all we need,” she said, tugging on Dean’s sleeve.

He did not seem interested in leaving just yet, but Y/N cleared her throat. “Thank you for your time, Ms. Cromwell.”

Bronwyn bowed gently and smiled. “If you need anything else, you know where I am.”

Y/N raced to the Impala and locked the door as soon as she was inside. She rubbed her palms down her thighs, ground her teeth tight, breathed slow and steadily.

Dean ambled behind her, taking his time.

She watched him approach, eyes wide with unease. His strides were terribly short, his bowed legs moving like slugs as she waited impatiently.

Once he was inside, she reached over and slammed the lock shut with a quick slap.

Dean jolted back in surprise. “You OK? You seem spooked.”

She crashed back into her side of the car. “Yeah, I’m spooked! How are you not?”

He shrugged. “I don’t know. Seemed OK in there. Standard new agey crap. Chick at the counter was clueless.”

Y/N swallowed hard and looked out of the window, staring at the little shop. “That was not standard crap, Dean. There was some major mojo in there. Including that… Bronwyn person.”

Dean grinned. “That Bronwyn woman,” he corrected. “I’ve never seen you so… taken with a girl before. Gotta say, it was pretty hot.”

“Excuse me?”

“It was workin’ for me is all…”

“I wasn’t taken,” she snit, “I mean- she was… beautiful but-” Her mind churned and her skin prickled with dangerous arousal.

“But?”

“But my bat hasn’t swung that way since senior year of high school and it ain’t gonna again any time soon.”

Dean clicked his tongue. “Shame. You two woulda been… so hot together.”

“Yeah, well…” She huffed and crossed her arms over herself, hiding away while her worry grew. “Look, I don’t want to be super obvious but I’m pretty sure she’s why we’re here.”

“You think?” Dean tipped his head to the side, looking at her and the shop at the same time.

“You don’t?”

He shrugged. “You’re the one that talked to her. You’re the one’s been having feelings around town. If you say we got something, I believe you.”

A trickle of relief ran down her spine and she relaxed into the worn leather seat. “Thank you.”

Dean leaned across the seat and nudged her thigh with the back of his hand. “How about… we grab some food, head back to the motel, slip you out of that blazer, and play some naked Twister?”

He winked and she softened, letting go of her nerves and laughing.

“Naked Twister, huh? You really wanna get your right hand on red, dontcha?”

He grinned, all teeth and ideas. “Always.”

Dean was pretty skilled with chopsticks that night but not so much at getting Y/N naked. She was too intent on digging through town records and researching until her eyes were tearing and weary.

The take out was good though, and he was content with slurping down lo mein and scrolling through hospital records.

Some hours in, Y/N threw her hands up and tossed her head back, dramatic and whiny and done. She growled loudly and Dean popped his head up, a noodle hanging from his lips.

“You ‘aight?”

“No!” She pouted and rubbed at her eyes. “I hate this place. I hate this computer. I hate fuckin’- cold Chinese food.” She pushed at the half-empty carton of rice. “I hate murders and witches and stupid dead people. I hate it!”

Not wanting to be another thing that she hated, Dean simply nodded silently and sucked in the dangling noodle. He stood up and went to the mini fridge, pulling out two icy beers and popping the caps off. He perched one on Y/N’s shoulder.

“I think you need a break,” he said softly.

She took the beer but sneered up at him. “I think you need a break, break guy.”

He laughed. “Great come back.”

“Shut up.”

Dean sighed and gave her a moment to lament her choices in life. As he did, he scanned her computer screen and something caught his eye.

“This what you’re working on?”

It was rhetorical and Y/N rolled her eyes as he leaned in and pulled the laptop closer.

“I was trying to match the carvings on the bodies but I’m coming up pretty short. They’re almost like partial symbols and I can’t get them to make sense. It’s like doing a puzzle without the edge pieces.”

Green eyes squinted and a long finger poked at the screen, pressing against one symbol. “Well, I recognize that one.”

Y/N perked up, scooting her chain in and shaking off the fatigue. “What? What is it?”

Dean stood up and took a sip from his beer. “I don’t know what it is, but that witchy lady had it tattooed on her left wrist.”

Her jaw dropped. “What?”

He shrugged and pulled up his sleeve. “Yeah. Like, right here. It was faded, and there was an extra little squiggly line in between the triangles, but it was there. About an inch below her wrist. You didn’t notice?”

Y/N’s memory blurred and she bit her lip. “No. I was a little… OK, a lot distracted. How did you see that?”

He winked. “I’m very observant.”

“You were staring at her tits and got lucky.”

“So were you…”

She slapped his arm and he huffed, going back to his seat.

“Anyway- what is it?”

Y/N clicked away at the keyboard and shook her head. “Not sure, since you said there was another line to it-”

“A squiggle.”

“A squiggle.” She rolled her eyes again. “But if it’s the two triangles pointed like that… it basically symbolizes fertility and the connection between the male and female elements in the universe.”

Dean tipped the bottle back and took a sip. “So, it’s a sex thing.”

“It’s not a sex thing.” She sat back, eyes on the screen, and took a drink. “OK, it’s not not a sex thing. But what does that have to do with the bodies piling up? And why was that… woman… all up on me? It was creepy. She was asking about us having a baby.”

Dean choked on his swallow. “She what?”

“Yeah. Going on about how I should want to have your baby and how much in love we are and yada yada. It was gross and frankly a little misogynistic and outdated and-”

A switch flipped in her head and Y/N fell silent, staring at the space between her and the computer screen.

Having seen this before, Dean waited patiently for her to return to reality.

She gasped.

“What’d ya get?” he asked, enjoying her thought process. It was almost as if he could see an actual lightbulb flickering on above her head.

“Outdated.”

He cocked a brow. “Huh?”

“Outdated. This whole town is kinda… outdated. It’s clean and fresh. Everyone’s happy, and way too beautiful and young and- Well… It’s kinda… stuck in time, don't you think?”

He shrugged. “I guess. What does that have to do with us having a kid? Which, again, we should discuss because frankly-”

Caught in her rambling mind, she stood up and spun, waving him off. “I already told you, I’m not getting pregnant. Not unless Chris Evans walks in here and asks nicely.”

Dean scoffed. “Asks nicely?”

She shrugged. “I mean- it’s… Captain America.”

He was on his feet in an instant, beer wobbling on the table where he dropped it. “Captain America?” He stalked towards her, eyes narrowed and tongue darting. “What’s he got that I don’t got?”

Twinkle in her eye, Y/N spun towards him and batted her lashes. “Oh, couple million bucks and an ass you could bounce a quarter off of.”

Dean tensed up, squeezing his muscles. “You can bounce quarters off me.”

“I could bounce a nerf ball off you, perhaps…”

Growling with interest, he leaned down and licked at her lips. Y/N shuddered and craned her neck up to him, wanting his kiss, wanting everything.

He cupped her cheek and wrapped his right arm around her back, drawing her even closer. She mewed as his tongue passed her lips, melting for him.

“Oh fuck…” Her body responded, tightening and heating up. As his kiss deepened, the light throbbing between her thighs caught her attention and she pushed at his chest, breaking away. “Wait. We can’t.”

He pouted. “What?”

“We’re working,” she whined. “I wanna get this shit done.”

Dean dropped a hand to grab her ass. “And I wanna get this shit done…”

The force of his grip sent a tingle through her but Y/N stayed strong. She clapped her hand on his shoulder and twisted away.

“I’m sorry, but we’re almost done. Just gotta figure out the why and the where and we can go cap this bitch.”

Dean sighed dramatically. “If you’re even sure it’s her.”

The memory of Bronwyn’s touch flooded her mind and Y/N grit her teeth against it. “Oh, I’m sure.”

[67midnightwriter]

Captives of The Court - Chapter Eight

A Supernatural Series

~Strange things are brewing in Connecticut, so Dean and Y/N go check it out. After stumbling through town, they fall into something that’s been going on a very, very long time. Can they put an end to the bloodshed and make it out unscathed or will they need a little help this time?~

Starring Dean Winchester x Y/N Y/L/N

Chapter Eight Word Count: 2249

Series Warnings and Info may be found on the Masterlist Here 

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

Y/N was slumped over on the tiny kitchenette table, staring at her laptop as if it were sucking the joy and color from the universe around her. Her eyes moved, her finger scrolled, her mind was melting.

Her partner on the phone was less than helpful, only offering a hum or a cough every few minutes so she remembered that someone was still there.

“This is burning my eyes out, Sam,” she said, finally closing the screen she’d been on. Right behind it, there was another, and she whined to herself. “You got anything yet?”

Sam sighed heavily. “Still trying to match the symbols you sent me. Not getting very far.”

“Figures.” She sat back and crossed her arms, annoyed at the world, tired, and a little peckish. “Do we have to stay on the phone like this? I mean, I appreciate your help but this is kinda dumb.”

“Well-” Sam laughed. “I guess not. I just thought you were lonely.”

“Lonely?” She shook her head and grabbed up the phone as she stood and paced the room. “How can I be lonely? Dean hasn’t been out of eyesight in like two weeks.”

Sam hummed, interested. “Trouble in paradise?”

She sighed. “Not really…”

“I think I understand. I’ve spent more time in the car with him than any human being should.”

Y/N paused in front of the mirror and played with her hair, musing on her road trip with his brother. “Yeah. He’s kinda gross. But, it’s not that. Just- I don’t know! We’re on top of each other. I love the guy but-”

“You love what guy?”

Dean appeared behind her, a bucket of fried chicken under one arm and a six pack under the other. He grinned and kicked the door shut behind him, letting it echo through the room.

Y/N turned to him and sighed. “Love the guy who just brought me dinner!” She smiled and pulled the phone away from her cheek. “See ya later, Sam- I got a juicy thigh calling me name.”

If she could see through the phone, she would have seen Sam cringe. As it was, he gagged audibly.

“Yeah, good luck with that.”

“Hey, Sammy-” Dean cleared his throat. “Don’t call back later.”

He grinned and Y/N tossed the phone onto the bed. Dean watched it land and then slowly moved his eyes to her.

“Don’t forget that’s there,” he warned.

She bit her lip and cooed. “Why’s that?”

The bucket and beer hit the table and he took a long step towards her. “I don’t want you to get hurt when I throw you down on top of it.”

She sucked in a quick breath and batted her lashes. “You think you can just come in here with your chicken and booze, lookin’ all sexy, and toss me onto the bed and have your way with me?”

He paused for a dramatic moment and then smirked. “I do.” The space between them disappeared and Y/N gasped as his arms slid so easily around her. “So how ‘bout it?”

Pushing up on her tiptoes, she pressed a suggestive kiss to the corner of his mouth. She moved over a bit and tried again but was stopped by a rather embarrassing internal grumble.

“Was that me or you?” she asked, squinting up at him.

The grumble rolled again and Dean shyly smiled. “I think I’m hungry.”

She sighed. “Me too. Grub… then grab.”

He nodded in agreement and let her go, holding back as she crossed in front of him. “Sam find anything?”

“Nada. It’s definitely odd, but nothing’s jumping out at him so far. And the markings- they look like runes to me, but they’re not matching anything in the system. Or the internet. Kinda like they’re made up.”

Dean plucked two beers from the carrier. “I mean, it was all made up at some point, wasn’t it?”

“Technically, yeah. But it would be so much nicer if this wasn’t a new thing.”

He twisted the caps free. “Can’t all be easy, Y/N/N. Sometimes ya gotta get in there and dig. Get your hands dirty.”

She agreed, digging through the chicken pieces. “No wings?”

“Gotta keep digging,” he winked.

She tossed a drumstick at his chest and he fumbled to catch it.

“I think we get our shit together and do some interviews this evening. Make a few house calls while people are settling in after work.”

Dean sunk his teeth into the chicken leg. “I thought we were gonna- grub and grab…”

Y/N peeled the skin off of her piece of chicken and popped it in her mouth. “We can grab all night. We need to get to work. I’m antsy and this place gives me the creeps.”

Dean looked around, chewing. “It ain’t that bad.”

“The town, not the room.” She followed his gaze about the motel room and sneered at the hideous painting of horses above the bed. “Though the room is pretty bad too…”

The Putnam kitchen appeared to be designed directly out of a magazine and Y/N couldn’t help but be just a little bit jealous. The backsplash was an intricate pattern made of tiny bits of blue glass and crisp white porcelain, the countertops were black marble with golden flecks, the sink was large enough to take a bath in. She thought back to the tiny kitchenette in the motel room and sighed.

“Your home is truly lovely,” she told her hostess as Mrs. Putnam handed her a tea cup and saucer.

The older woman smiled. “Thank you. I love this room. The light in here is just- perfect.”

Indeed it was, Y/N thought, looking out of the enormous picture window on the east wall.

“Sunrise must be stunning,” she said with a dreamy smile. Her tea was steaming and she blew a breath across the surface before taking a sip.

“Oh, it is.” Mrs. Putnam set her hip against the counter island, turning to look out at the window. She smiled sweetly and Y/N felt a shiver.

For a woman in mourning, she was utterly calm and terribly well put together. Her blonde hair was up in a twist and not a strand was out of place. Her makeup was exquisite and despite her age of fifty-seven, not a single line appeared on her milky skin. She dressed as if she were going to a business meeting, with a string of expensive pearls at her throat that made Y/N’s look like they came out of a cereal box, which they just about did.

Y/N cleared her throat and set the tea cup down gently. “Mrs. Putnam-”

“Please, call me Ann.”

“Ann.” Y/N smiled and pulled her notepad from her purse. “I just have a few questions for you and I’ll be out of your way.”

Ann turned to face her. “Fire away.”

Her eyes were so blue that Y/N was distracted for a moment. It was as if they were being lit from behind by some ethereal force. She sucked in a quick breath and focused on her scribbled notes.

“The fourth victim, Brian Mills, was living here before he passed away?”

Ann nodded and wrapped her manicured fingers around the china teacup. “He was. Brian was renting our guest house out back. More of a pool house, really, but there’s a little kitchen set up in here.” She waved her hand as if nothing she was saying really mattered. “I doubt he did much cooking; he dined with us most evenings.”

Y/N tapped her pen on the paper. “How long was he renting the space?”

Mauve painted lips pursed. “Well now, I’d say a few months. He arrived just after Christmas I believe.”

The pen scratched across the pad. “And he was engaged to your daughter, Elizabeth…”

Ann’s eyes flashed over Y/N with a rapid cruelty. “They were not engaged.”

Y/N cocked a brow and skimmed over her notes. “Huh. The info I got from Sheriff Willard says your daughter was wearing an engagement ring when found. Maybe they didn’t announce it yet?”

Any previous kindness Mrs. Putnam had shown was quickly ebbing. “Fine. Yes. They were engaged. Elizabeth was fascinated with that man and no matter what we said, she wouldn’t listen.”

“So… you did not approve of them getting married.”

“No.”

Y/N took a sip of tea and calculated her next words carefully. She chose to sympathize. “I can imagine no one would be good enough for your only daughter.”

Ann huffed. “She wasn’t really our daughter anyway, now was she?”

She meant to speak under her breath but Y/N caught every word.

“What do you mean?”

China clinked softly. “Well, she was adopted, if you must know. My husband and I were unable to have children of our own, so we took Elizabeth in when she was fourteen. She was a very rambunctious and irrational child, but we did our best.”

Y/N recorded every word, every flinch, every heavy breath in her mind.

“Still,” she said, pushing gently, “it must be devastating to lose both of them like this.”

Ann’s jaw was tight and she stared down into her tea. “Yes. Well, it was tragic, wasn’t it?” She cleared her throat and looked at the time, the gold watch on her wrist gleaming in the rays of afternoon sun that struck the big window. “I’m sorry, but I really must be seeing to dinner soon. If you’ll excuse me…”

The Impala was parked a fair way down the street and Y/N was grateful for the short walk. The fresh air was nice and helped to shake away the crawling feeling Mrs. Putnam had caused to trickle down her spine.

Done with his own interview, Dean was bouncing down the front steps of a house on the opposite side of the street, about the same distance from the car as Y/N. They smiled at the timing but each could tell the other was deep in thought as they marched to the Impala.

Dean set his hands on the roof and fiddled with the car keys. “How’d it go in there?”

Y/N stretched to look over the roof but soon gave up. She opened the door and stood in the door well, finally able to see him over the car. “It went weird. You?”

He bit down into his lip and looked back at the house he’d come from. “That family isn’t right. I don’t know what it is, but ya think after losing your oldest son, you’d be-”

“Grieving? Yeah.” Y/N clicked her tongue. “Mrs. Putnam was almost annoyed that her daughter was dead. Oh, wait, excuse me - her adopted daughter. She made that very clear.” She sighed. “Also… and again, I can’t really explain it but… she looked so…”

“Young?”

“Your guys too?”

Dean nodded and leaned in a little closer. “Dude’s gotta be pushing seventy and he looks better than I do. I mean, ya know, in certain areas. I’m sure I got the guy on… well height and stuff.”

Y/N breathed down a laugh but worry was heavier in her mind. “I just can’t figure it out… And everyone’s so damned good looking. It’s like they’re all models or mannequins or robots or something.”

Dean squinted at the light bouncing off the hood. “I don’t think they’re robots.”

“I don’t think they’re anything but weirdos. This whole place is just strange. I wanna go home.” Her shoulders fell and she pouted.

“We can’t just leave, Y/N/N. We’ve got a stack of bodies and nothing good to go on yet.”

“What if we… do leave, and just pretend we were never here.”

He frowned and met her gaze. “You could live with yourself if we just blew town right now?”

She cracked a smirk. “I mean, I’m not adverse to blowing things but-” She sighed. “You’re right. Dammit. Who’s next on the list?”

Dean checked his notepad. “Bronwyn Cromwell. Owns a- get this- magic shop in town.”

Y/N groaned. “Rabbits and hats or crystals and fuckery?”

“We’re about to find out.”

The door creaked as he opened it and the Impala jumped a bit as they both sank into their seats.

“Cromwell?” Y/N questioned, nose scrunched up in thought.

“Yeah. Why?”

“Sounds familiar…”

Dean laughed. “Well, it is the name of the town-”

She slapped his arm playfully. “Yes, I am aware. It just sounds like- I don’t know, maybe I read it somewhere.”

“She’s in the paperwork. Lisa Abbot worked for her for about a month before she quit breathing.”

Y/N chewed her lip. “Lisa Abbot… She was the first woman to be found?”

“Yup. Victimo numero uno.”

“Huh.”

“What?”

She shook her head and looked out the window. “I don’t know. Everything feels so off here it’s hard to tell what’s a feeling feeling and what’s just a feeling. Does that make sense?”

Dean sucked his teeth and jabbed the key into the ignition. “Kinda, yeah. But, that’s what we do, kid. We run towards screaming, we chop heads off monsters. If it starts feeling right- you’ve been doing it for too long.”

“So you don’t feel weird here?”

He laughed. “Are you kidding? This place’s got my ball hairs standing on end.”

“You are so gross…”

He grinned. “But cute.”

His smile danced in her head, striking a match of desire. She licked her lips and reached over, dragging her hand down his thick thigh. “Drive, cutie. I’m getting antsy.”

“Yes, ma’am!”

The Impala swerved a bit as he pulled away from the curb, but all was soon well and the peeping neighbors on Morey Street closed their curtains.

[67midnightwriter]

Want More?

Patreon is chock-full of FanFiction, Originals, Poetry, and Exclusive Insider info that you just can’t get anywhere else. For only $3 a month, you get access to all the goods. 

Not only do you to read all of my new, patreon exclusive fanfic, you also get to make requests!

Rebekah Jordan (Impala-Dreamer) on Patreon

Here’s just a small bit of what’s coming to Patreon in the upcoming weeks:

For A Little While

A Supernatural Story

~ Days after the love of his life walks away, Dean is still dealing with the loss~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader 

Tremble Like A Flower

A Story from The Boys Universe

~Soldier Boy likes to keep you for himself, using you whenever he feels the need to release a little extra tension…~

Soldier Boy (Ben) x F!Reader

1,177 Words

Warnings: NSFW 1980s Soldier Boy. Rough Sex. Spanking. Bruising. Man Handling. Name calling. Hair Pulling. Yada Yada. Rough Hot Sex.

Keep Watching

A Supernatural Story

~The journey is a long one and Y/N is tired of waiting for some fun…~

Dean x F!Reader, Sam

1,248 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Masturbation. Voyeurism. Exhibitionism. Poor Sammy…

All I Ever Knew

A Short Story

~For a while now, you’ve been his secret, tucked away in the shadows for fear of fandom judgement and hate. Now, he’s ready to set them straight, show you off, be out in public… but are you?~

Misha Collins x F!Reader

1,593 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Love and Fluff and Smut

Stay With Me

A Supernatural Story

~Dean is into his second bottle of whiskey, desperate to drive his problems away. But he knows deep down, the booze isn’t what he truly needs…~

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

1,390 Words

Warnings: Bittersweet Angst

Another War

A Story From The MCU (Falcon and The Winter Soldier)

~Sam and Bucky are continuously bickering… even in the bedroom.~

Sam Wilson, Bucky Barnes, F!Reader

1,732 Words

Warnings: NSFW. Comedy and Smuts.

AND! There are literally HUNDREDS of fics you can’t get anywhere else!

Check it out ;)

[67midnightwriter]

It’s gonna be amazingggggg

Carry On Wayward Son - Kansas - 1976

We, @mom-and-popcosmic and @impala-dreamer , will be vending at this year's Momento Con in Pittsburgh Pa. August 5th and 6th. This is a great Supernatural themed con, very relaxed and affordable. Come by, say hello, hang out, and get some art and stuff. Hope to see you there.