#Branch Winchester au

[empressgeekt]

Supernatural/Trolls Crossover - Branch Winchester AU (Part 1 - Childhood)

Okay so recently I got into the supernatural TV show...for the worldbuilding...and during this I was writing out my Trolls Aus. Something Clicked and this idea sparked to life.

So, Branch as a child, not that long after Grandma was killed, maybe just after, would be somehow sent to the Supernatural universe.

Little Branch is utterly terrified. He trapped in a body that isn't his own (human transformation) and in a place he doesn't recognize. The woods surrounding him, appears giant but with very tiny trees. Leaves are now the size of his foot, and not big enough to be a blanket. Eventually some forest rangers find him. At first he's scared, but they escort him to the local police station, under the belief that Branch is just a victim of a family camping trip gone wrong. At the station Branch only shuts down more, the officers, are asking him all these questions some of them he doesn't know the answer too. He doesn't know he last name, he doesn't know what an address is, and for some reason these people aren't taking him seriously when he tries to tell them that his Grandma was eaten by bergens.

Enter John Winchester. He's in town following up on a lead for Bobby, so far it seems like nothing is going on when he visits the police station claiming to be part of some kind of wild-life agency. Things seem clean until one of the officers point out a tiny child sitting in the station, "Kid Claims his grandmother was killed by a giant monster. Probably just a victim of a wolf attack. Poor kid." "Any other family near by?" "Not that we can find, there hasn't been a missing persons report for him or his grandmother, and no one recognizes him."

Hunter instincts going off, John approaches Branch. Granted, he doesn't believe everything that comes out of the kids, mouth, like how he thought he was a troll, but he does listen when it comes to topic of Monsters and Bergens. By the end of it, John thinks that Branch was part of a fairy worshiping cult, that screwed-up a ritual. Either way it's a lead, and frankly this is a first for John, and for some reason he can't leave this kid alone. Maybe it had something to do with Branch being right in between his boys ages, or maybe this kid is part of the hunting world in someway, but Branch is taken back to the hotel to stay with the young Winchester boys.

Little Sam is excited to have a new friend, but Dean is more cautious, maybe even a little stress. After all Branch is just another kid to look out for on top of sammy. That first day, with John out looking for a "cult" is awkward. Sam keeps trying to get Branch to play but Branch only stays huddled up in the corner, watching the windows, and refusing to leave or go near the door to the room. Sam gripes to Dean about it, but Dean tells him that Branch just shy, and maybe needs some time to be sad. John told Dean about how Branch lost his grandmother, but not Sammy.

John doesn't come back to the hotel that night, so Dean has to put the younger boys to bed. Sam conks out easily enough, but Branch is still scared. Dean ends up trying to talk to Branch to sleep, and eventually opens up about how he lost his mom to these kind of things.

B: Bergens?

D: I don't think so, but it wasn't a nice monster. What are Bergens exactly?

B: They're big scary monsters that eat us.

D: They eat you?

B: Once a year, on Trollistice, we called it the harvest though. Eating us makes the Bergens happy.

D: And your Grandma was taken on Trollistice?

B: No, it was supposed to be safe outside, one of the Bergens must have gotten hungry early.

D: Is that why you don't want to leave the hotel room?

B: *nods*

D: Well don't worry, my dad is the best monster hunter there is, nothing going to get you when your here with us.

The next morning, John would come back, empty handing hunting wise, but he brought fast food for his boys, branch included. Branch was a little more alive this morning, actually talking with Sam about a book he was reading. Dean would tell his dad about the conversation he had with Branch last night. The once a year harvest, makes him think Pagen God sacrifice, and he calls Bobby to see if his friend has anymore information. There are a few legends that fit the bill, but each of them have an Achilles heel that makes them impossible. John stays in town for another week, before giving up. What ever happened to Branch has either stopped on its own, or moved on. He's packing up his boys, when the question of what too do with Branch comes up. Dropping the kid off with social services is possible, the workers there would probably take Branch's rambling as just a kid trying to cope with a traumatic home life, but that could also mean getting attention of Social Services on his boys. He could look for any of Branches family, but that might mean running into more cultists. With a little convincing from his sons John decides to keep Branch.

They retreat back to Bobby Singer's place, because, John needs to restock on hunter supplies, and Bobby could help him fake papers for Branch. Together they'd make a paper trail, that to any official it would look like Branch was found by John and Mary as an abandoned baby, then they took him in a closed adoption. This is the best they can do, because Branch doesn't look a thing like his boys, bright blue eyes, jet black hair, and a much darker skin tone then the rest of them. John sits down with Branch and explains what this means. If anyone is to ask, John was his father and had always been his father.

Any hesitation about the adoption is quickly forgotten after the boys stayed at Bobby's for a week. Branch proves himself to be smart, wickedly smart. He's asking Bobby all about the charm in his house, why there was salt on his windows, and anything else that has to do wit hunting. Bobby can tell when he explains the reason behind everything, that Branch commits it to memory. The kid would study, hunter books, on omens, demons, and anything else supernatural. After the week, Bobby could ask Branch "How do you kill *insert supernatural creature*?" and more then often Branch would answer correctly.

"I don't know where this kid came from John, but if I had to make a bet I'd say a hunting family. This kid was born to be one of us," - Bobby Singer.

Years pass, and Branch is raised a Winchester boy. It's a bit of a transition going from the youngest in a pack of five, to the middle of group of three, but Branch manages. He's close to Dean with all the hunting stuff, though Branch's drive to learn is more wanting to protect himself, rather then pleasing John. Sam and him get along with similar academic minds, they also enjoy teasing Dean. Branch's childhood is filled with monsters and hunting and constant moving, but it's better then living in a hole in the ground, and here he has brothers who won't leave.

Or at least until Sam goes to College. The fight between John and Sam shakes Branch up, and he eventually comes clean to Dean about his bio-brothers. Though at this point, Branch fully believes their cult theory, rather then that he was a troll from a world of magic and felt, so he isn't sure what exactly is true or his "imagination" but he remembers the fight after the show clearly. Dean is pissed off when he learns that Branch had brothers, and they all left him behind. He can't be mad at Sammy for pursuing his dreams, and Branch doesn't blame their younger brother either, but these strangers who Dean thinks screwed Branch over in a cult he'll hate them forever. Dean promises to never leave Branch of his own choice.

The pilot of season one, comes along, and with John missing Branch and Dean have to reluctantly go to sam for help. Well Dean's more excited then reluctant. Branch doesn't see the point of going to Sam, he doesn't hate his little brother, never in a million years, but form his POV Sam left he doesn't want anything to do with the family anymore. This is only further solidified when Branch meets Jess. Sam had his own family now. So, it's shocking for him when Sam agrees.

While on mission, Branch doesn't get involved with Sam and Dean's mommy issues. It's not his place, and he knows it, even if Mary Winchester is legally his late mother, he's never met her. When Dean gets arrested, Branch and Sam flee, they investigate Welch during which they work out their issues with each other, because Branch had been distant since they reunited. Branch explains that he's not mad at Sam, he just doesn't want to get close only for Sam to cut him off again. Which leads to Branch explain how he had been abandoned, and Sam reassuring Branch that he just wanted to get away from hunting, and that his issues with dad didn't extend to Branch or Dean. Then they call Dean, and the woman in white appears in the back seat. The woman in white can't really do much to him, unlike his brothers, girls have never really been branch's thing. Dean likes to tease him often about still being a virgin at 24. So, he can't be unfaithful to anyone or made unfaithful. But it's freaky to be in a car that he can't control. He stabs the ghost with an iron knife, just as Dean Shows up, and Sam drives the car into the house.

Things in Canon don't really change until episode "Bloody Mary", when drawing bloody mary out, she doesn't go after Sam this time, she goes after Branch. Because while Rosiepuff's death isn't Branch's fault, he still never told anyone exactly what happened, that day, not even John. So he's the better fit for the ghost's killing reasons, "Someone had a secret and someone died". Dean and Sam save him, and afterward they confront branch about it, getting him to finally open up about his Grandmother's death.

D: So, wait, singing killed your grandma?

S: Dean...

B: Yes, and it was one of the worse days of my life.

They're on there way to a hotel when they get a call from Bobby. Apparently, there's four guys on his porch claiming to be Branch's brothers. "Do the names, John Dory, Clay, Spruce and Floyd, mean anything to you?"

----

See you in part 2

[heartthrobin]

round and round the garden (1)

sam winchester x fairy!reader

wc: 4.7k

warnings: soulmate!au (partners share scars), fem!reader, limited use of y/n, timeline is foggy but we’re working with s8 sam lookwise, reader is a creature, implied age gap (reader is early 20's), reader is uber tooth-rottingly sweet, highkey dumbification of sam winchester, references to thick reader (everyone cheered) but can be ignored, dean being dean, destiel is canon, animals, canon warnings (child kidnapping, violence ect.)

an: literally just wanted to write something fantastical and cutesy so here it is !!! this is part 1 of (probably) 4 :))) let me know if you want to be added to taglist <33 love y’all

summary: the case was bizarre, but no aspect more so than the “witch” at the end of town with the prettiest goddamn face Sam had ever seen and the long pink scar up her arm that matched his own.

part two part three part four

The house wasn't big.

If Sam could really call it a house.

It was more like a cottage, reminding him of children's illustrated stories he never had the childhood to read. Of picnics and fireplaces.

The cottage dazzled like a water colour painting: green shrubbery seeping into every corner of the canvas, with lush pink and orange and yellow fruit speckled across the page.

Creeping around it, wrapping it's branches over the house like an arboreal hug: was the largest tree Sam had ever laid eyes on. The trunk was almost as wide as the street they were parked on and it's leaves draped low over the windows peeking from inside. It stood like a monolith against the backdrop of the forest leering behind it.

The line of trees were inched back just enough to almost convince Sam that this tree, the one engulfing your cottage, made them nervous.

A stone footpath lead to the door.

"I-- looked away for just one minute ..." the woman was inconsolable.

Jenny Perez sobbed into the arm of her couch. Her sister leered in the doorway.

Sam and Dean watched her from the couch over.

"Ma'am," Sam stepped carefully. "We know this isn't easy, but are you sure you didn't see anything in the moments leading up to Manny's disappearance? Even anything ... strange?"

Washington State. Five kids. Two months. Missing.

Each snatched out their gardens where they played.

Sam and Dean had been in Illinois on the tail end of a wendigo hunt when the news of a sixth missing kid blew far enough across the country to land a tiny column on the front page of the Chicago Tribune.

Manny Perez (7) was taken from the backyard of his home this past Sunday night in Fernglade, Washington.

His mother, Jenny Perez (38), said she heard rustling in the bushes behind their house and her son laughing before going to take some food out of the oven. When she returned, her son had disappeared.

Sure it was a terrible story, but regardless, it didn’t arouse enough suspicion out of either Winchester to make it their problem. To convince them it was anything more than a 53-year old psychopath holding children in his basement.

Not until Dean found the entry. The one in John’s journal.

He’d been looking for a passage he swore was in there on wendigo hunting seasons when the ruggedly clipped article fell from between it’s pages.

“Sammy …” he’d flashed him the clip, “look familiar?”

Several articles actually: eight kids missing from the little town of Fernglade. Every Autumn, every twenty years out of some poor mother’s backyard. John had only scribbled one lonely note amongst all the newspaper staining: THE TREES

“No! It’s like I told the police … I just heard him laughing.” Her voice came out as broken shards between the heaving and the hands clutched close against her chest. “I thought I heard another child’s voice, but that was—”

“Jenny, enough.” Sandra Perez piped up from the doorway, clearly enflamed. She turned from her sister to face the brothers on the couch. “What my sister is refusing to consider, and what the rest of us know to be true, is that Manny was taken by that witch.”

“Hermana … she isn’t a witch—”

“A witch?” Dean’s calibre had twisted to intrigued.

“She lives on the edge of town. By the forestline.” Sandra’s arms were crossed tightly. “Jenny always used to let Manny go afternoons out there, God knows why—”

“A lot of the neighbourhood kids did too.” Jenny interrupted, desperate in her approach: hands outdrawn. “She’s not a … a witch. She’s a bit strange but the kids loved her and she was kind to them—”

“And now look. All those children are gone, Jenny.”

The woman deflated back into the couch again, her tear-soaked sleeves came up to find purchase against her cheeks again. They muffled a sob.

Sam and Dean exchanged a look. Dean shrugged with a look that said “maybe?”

Dean turned to the sister, “What has you convinced that this woman is a witch?”

Sanda Perez looked affronted by the question. Like Dean had slapped her clean across the face.

“Oh! Well she’s … there’s always things burning at that house and people have said they’ve heard … like, chanting at night over there.” She wrapped her arms tighter around herself, grasping at the straws of gossip that had dripped down to her willing ears. “And her house is strange and she’s always in the forest at night when it’s unsafe. Who knows what … what rituals she’s doing out there!”

The brothers nodded. “Sure. Would you mind giving us that address?”

Now that Sam was faced with the house, getting his first view through the grimy passenger side window, he’d stray from the description of “strange”. He might have agreed that “enchanted” or “mystical” fit the description of the cottage better if he didn’t resent the magic clichés.

Dean’s finger pressed into the open journal page, tapping along the stained ink of John’s nearly illegible handwriting. THE TREES.

“Now that’s a tree if I’ve ever laid eyes on one.” He leaned over so his eyes could find the top of the tree from under the cover of the car.

Sam nodded. Something felt off when he watched the house, his stomach was twisting up past his other organs in his throat.

“I don’t know man …” his finger reached up to tug at the collar choking him at the neck. Maybe the fed suit wasn’t helping. “Something feels weird about this place.”

Dean scoffed loudly. He picked up the takeaway cup from the centre console, coffee long cold, and slugged the last of it down in one long sip. He surfaced again, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Every place we go to is weird.” It was clear he didn’t share the sentiment. “I’m sure we’ve faced worse.”

He unbuckled his seatbelt.

“Well, come on. Let’s go meet this witch.”

Despite Sandra Perez’ less than convincing account of the “witch” at the end of town, it was still worth a visit to know who the townsfolk had decided was guilty in the matter of several counts of child kidnapping. How evil and vile of a person they must be.  

The air was crisp outside the car and the further they ventured up the path, the more delightful the aroma became. There was a thin string of smoke curling from behind the house, it carried a warm woody scent and the tussles of flowers lining the bannister of the porch was making Sam’s head spin happily. He managed a small smile.

“Nice garden.” He whispered offhand.

Dean seemed unconvinced, eyes flashing over the shrubbery with skepticism. “Yeah, well don’t get too close to anything. And don’t touch anything either.”

The door was tall, intimidating and clearly made of some fancy wood. It was slot between the white brick on the face of the house. The feeling from the car had only tripled on the walk up and Sam had his hand against his stomach. He could feel his blood rushing past his ears.

“Dean, I’m really not sure about—”

Dean’s fist connected with the door three times. Curt and professional, like a fed’s would be.  

There was an obvious shuffle behind the door, by then each beat of Sam’s heart was like a foghorn against his vibrating ribs and for a moment he was sure he was going to be sick.

Suddenly, there was sniffle by the foot of the door. A dog? And a voice, caressed gently by a giggle, ushering the animal away.

Sam’s brain was swelling too large for his head, the doorknob creaked from inside – his fists grew ice cold – with a soft grunt, the door was pulled ajar …

It stopped.

With a smile that knocked the wind clean out of Sam’s lungs, you greeted. “Good morning, gentlemen.”

Warmth flooded back in to his palms and the thumping of his head cooled to a dizzy buzz. The nausea subsided to a hot bubbling.

Your frame took up the doorway. It seemed to fizzle around the edges, glimmering like light off a rippling pond.

Sam’s eyes slipped down your body like warm coffee down his throat. Your face was gentle, eyes round and wet beneath a set of suffocatingly black eyelashes. Wide-set thighs rippled all the way down to soft calves and pink painted toenails.

A cream crochet top reached over the expanse of your shoulders, sloping down where the rugged sleeve edges hung off your palms, a sparkling green skirt flirted at the top of your thighs. It’s silk ruffles shivered with your every breath.

If he was momentarily able to lift his eyes from you, which he most definitely was not, maybe he'd notice how Dean didn't seem even moderately as amazed as he was. That might have been the first sign if he did.

"Good afternoon ma'am, I'm agent Alice. This is my partner agent Cooper." Dean dug out the FBI identification from his jacket pocket, flashing it casually. "We just have a few questions regarding some recent--"

"Oh please," you waved your hand airily, "No need for the semantics. I've been expecting you, lunch is out in the garden."

The sound of your voice was sending waves of warmth through his stomach. Like he was sipping hot cocoa at your every syllable.

The ID in Dean's hand wobbled, his face clenched in confusion. "I-- sorry, what?"

In the shift of Sam’s gaze back up your form, he came to find your eyes set on his.

You smiled again. His tongue felt heavy and half-formed words gurgled at the back of his throat: begging to be spat out.

“I-I’m–“

“I know who you are.”

Your eyes flickered back to Dean and Sam felt hollow at the loss of their warmth.

“Not every day you have the Winchesters at your door, now is it.” You finished, stepping aside to allow them in.

“You know who we are?” Dean’s cadence dropped warily, clearly spearheading the conversation where Sam was finding difficulty. But your figure was already disappearing into the darkness of the house.

Despite his sceptic tone, Dean stepped in quickly after you. Sam trailed behind.

The cottage was warm. At least that was Sam’s first thought.

It was quickly ribbed out the way by the sheer visual of the interior.

There wasn’t a single blank wall or spot on the floor uncovered by carpetry.

Rows of paintings and stacks of photographs lined the space between wooden countertops and cherry red couches. Persian rugs and indoor plants spilled from a technicolour mirage of pots.

Desks were cluttered with books, paint supplies abandoned still wet. A dusty chandelier.

But more striking than the portraits and the vinyls and the rugs and the botany textbooks, were the creatures.

“Just watch for Goose,” she waved vaguely at a moving creature that was quickly nearing Sam’s feet, avoiding Dean’s question. “He won’t bite but he will try lick you—”

For a moment, Sam connected that this had to be the dog at the door. But the dog, Goose, was hardly a dog at all. Only once he was licking a stripe up the strip of bare skin at Sam’s ankle did he realize that … it can’t … that’s a fox.

And that wasn’t the start nor the end of it.

Draped over the couch was the largest snake Sam had ever seen. It was curled into the red frilled cushion, fast asleep. On the countertop, two ferrets were dipping in and out of sight behind the fruit basket. A gecko bathing in a sunspot on top of a stack of books. A flock of white budgies perched between the crystals on the chandelier. Three pairs of brown twitching rabbit ears peeking out from a basket of laundry.

It seemed Dean had also taken stark notice of the menagerie that was the cottage, so distracted that he’d forgone mentioning that his question had gone unanswered.

His finger pointed weakly at down at the white boa on the couch. “That’s … that’s a snake.”

You laughed again and Sam was sure he could get drunk off the sound.

“Nothing gets past you boys, hey?”

You kept walking, motioning for them to follow through another arched door out into the garden behind the house.

“Her name is Lydia. She’ll come join us when she’s awake.”

“I sure as hell hope not …” But it was muttered and Sam gave Dean a stern look for his comment. You didn’t turn back.

The garden behind the house was impossibly even more beautiful than infront. Vines creeped up the outer walls, a lemon tree grew along the underside the of the bigger tree engulfing the house. Shrubs and bushes and stark purple flowers. Your whole patch of land seemed untouched by the fingertips of Autumn that was reaching over the rest of town.

In the middle of it all: sat a small white painted table. You’d lined it with sheer cloth and platters of pastries, sandwiches and cakes.

There were three chairs around it.

“Sit, sit, sit.” You were wringing your hands, a light waft of nervousness fluttering off you. “I didn’t know what exactly you hunters eat or don’t eat … so there’s a little bit of everything–“

“Oh, hell yes.” Dean’s initial skepticism seemed to dissolve at the prospect of food and his ass was in the chair before you had chance to say anything else.

You seemed pleased. 

Sam’s face flushed red. He remembered that he still has yet to say a full sentence in your presence.

“Uh,” you turned to the sound of his voice. “T-Thank you.”

The speckles of light through the canopy of the trees drifted over your face. Sam had never noticed that on a person before.

He’d also never paid much mind to people’s hair. Not before yours. It looked like something ripped off the cover of a fashion magazine from the 70’s.

“You’re so very welcome.” Your voice was kind. “It’s more of an indulgence. I haven’t had guests in a while, not since …”

It faded off. “Well, not for a while.”

Jewels jingled around your neck, crystals wrapped in black string: dipping low down between the swell of your breasts that was just visible above the hemline—

Sam quickly swung his gaze back to the table where Dean was scarfing down an icing covered puff pastry.  

His brother was making wildly animalistic groans over the taste. For a moment, it was the only noise filling the space against the shiver of the trees in the midday gust.

Sam didn’t know where to find his tongue. He couldn’t get himself to step away from you.

“Coffee or tea, boys? I have it inside warming on the stove.”

“Coffee.” Dean responded blurrily around a mouthful. You turned to Sam again.

“I—just, I’m—coffee is good.”

You nodded. “Sure. I’ll be right back.”

He watched your figure retreat towards the house. The nausea was bubbling back into view.

“This is some fucking good cake.”

When your frame had disappeared back into the house, Sam turned back to his brother who was cleaning remnants of a second pastry off his plate with a tiny fork.

He quickly neared him, pulling out the chair across from him hastily.

“Dean, have you even considered the possibility that this food is poisened?”

Dean’s face twisted to a grimace, but only for a fraction of a moment before shrugging. “Hey. Worse ways to go.”

But Sam was shaking his head. The dizziness had returned.

“Do you feel sick? I’ve been feeling like … like off since we first step foot on this property.”

Dean watched him with hooded eyes, gaze flickering between his brother and the sliced ham and cucumber sandwich resting at the top of a nearby plate.

“Is that your explanation for the fool you’ve been acting since we walked in the door?”

Looking up from wiping sweaty palms down his trousers, Sam stalled. “W-What?”

“Exactly.” Dean gave in, reaching for the sandwich. “You haven’t been able to string three fucking words together since we got here.”

“I—she’s a witch, Dean.” Sam pressed. “I think she put like a … a spell o-or a hex on me!”

“She couldn’t have done that in the five minutes we’ve been here.”

“She knows who we are, she could’ve hexed our motel room.”

“Looks to me like someone has a crush—"

But Sam’s face was earnest. And maybe turning a little cherry red at the accusation. “Dean.”

Dean huffed. “Fine, fine, we’ll interrogate her and see what she says. If she’s a witch, we just gank her. Problem solved.”

“But—”

The sound of footsteps were reapproaching. The brothers fell quiet.

“Here we go.” Ringed fingers clinked against the side of an ornate red pot where you leaned over Sam’s shoulder. Steaming black liquid slipped into the teacup resting against it’s matching saucer in front of him.

His breath caught in his throat.

“You like the sandwiches?” You aimed at Dean.

He nodded, “Yeah, great stuff.”

You rounded the table and Sam worked hard not to make eye contact with the expanse of thigh peeking up at him as you moved.

“I have to admit, I really wish you’d brought along your angel.” You poured into Dean’s cup.

His head flickered up at the comment. “Cas?”

“I’m a big fan of his.” Your voice buzzed with eagerness, “The whole rebellion against heaven thing. I thought it was really cool.”

To label Cas "his angel" was a fair assessment. The matching fleshy red handprint on each of their chests had confirmed it a long time ago.

Dean nodded slowly. “I’ll be sure to pass on the message.”

You smiled and it made Sam’s stomach contents bubble again. He was starting to worry that maybe you really had cursed him.

The chair grumbled against the grass where you pulled it out. “Right, so I’m assuming you guys are here to question me? Kill me maybe?”

Awkward silence fell. Dean and Sam exchanged glances.

“Uh—”

“Well—”

Between another bout of laughter, you poured your own cup. “Don’t worry. You’re not the first, probably not the last.”

Dean took a long enough break from scarfing food down his gullet to look up at you. “Yes. To question you, for now.”

You nodded. Eyes finding Sam.

“What about you, Bigfoot? Here to kill me?”

Sam reached deep to find his voice again. “Uhm, just a few questions.”

Smiling, you sat further back in your chair. “Great. Go right ahead then.”

“How do you know who we are?” Dean leapt right in, repeating what had been previously left unanswered.

“Someone like me’s gotta know when hunters are moving in and out of town, don’t you think?”

“Someone like you?”

“Yep.” You nodded, seemingly unwilling to offer more than what was being asked.

Sam leaned forward. “So you are a witch then.”

You chuckled under your breath, leaning forward to stir your coffee as if he hadn’t tossed an accusation in your lap. “I see you’ve been speaking to people around town.”

Nobody answered.

So you filled the space again.

“No, I’m not a witch. Slimy bunch them, but then again, I guess you’re not too far off.”

“So what then?” Dean’s voice held that rough edge that dripped through when he was growing annoyed.

Grinning, you shrugged.

A chime, like a ringing sleigh bell, filled the space. Sam’s eyes were drawn just past your shoulders where a tall pair of opal pearlescent wings had appeared behind your head.

“No fucking way.”

Sam choked around nothing. There was a long pause, interjected with a long stare between the brothers across your table.

“Fairies don’t … they don’t exist.”

You reached for a sip of your coffee, looking unperterbed. “Dryad, actually. Give it a google.”

The wings shivered against the movement.

"So what," Dean's glare was heated over the set table, "Evil fairy godmother is that it? What did you do with the kids, eat them?"

For the first time since he'd lain eyes on you, Sam could make out a shine of something unkind crossed your features.

You set the teacup down slowly and your eyes met Dean's with the same heat of the sun glaring down into the garden: "I had nothing to do with those children going missing. I loved them."

Sam wanted to interject, but his chest was tight ... a straining grip of guilt was tightening his throat. She's cursed me, she's cursed me, she's cursed me--

"A couple of the parents said their kids used to come visit around here. Visit the witch at the end of town. That true?"

Gathering a breath and another sip from your cup, your face distorted from indignant to disconsolate. Sam could feel the tightness in his chest ebbing.

You nodded.

"Yes. That's true." From behind your seat, accurate to your predictions, the wide white outline of a snake-- of Lydia-- was creeping through the grass.

Dean's eyes fixated on her approach, all way up until she bound the foot of your chair up into your chest. She rested her head there like a lap dog. You stroked a hand over her head like one too.

"They used to come visit," you continued, "after school some days. I'd make them tea and cupcakes, and they'd come to visit my animals. I taught them about the trees."

A fond look had crawled onto your features. There was another tinkle of bells and the wings behind you disappeared.

"Now nobody comes. Parents are scared. They think I'm ... hiding their children in my basement or something."

Dean surveyed you for a few moments, seemingly deciding you were of little enough danger to dare another piece of white chocolate cake.

"Yeah, you can spare us the pity party sister." He muttered around his fork.

Sam sent him a short lived look. "Well, then if it's not you--"

"We haven't yet decided that it's not you, just by the way."

"--then what is it? Surely you have some idea?"

Lydia was curling up around the back of your neck now. Your eyes found Sam's - he momentarily felt like he was melting - and you sighed softly.

"I've heard some things, nothing definitive." Your hand stroked over the section of the snake still draped in your lap. "It's coming from the forest."

"And you heard this where?" Dean's tone dripped with skepticism.

"The trees told me."

Where Sam was sure would normally be laughter echoing from his older brother, instead, his hand stilled over his plate.

THE TREES.

His eyes flickered to Sam. It was quiet. Dad's journal.

"You can speak to trees?" Sam question was clement.

You seemed refreshed by it, watching him for a moment before nodding. "Part of the gig."

Another silence fell. You sighed. Sam could smell Dean's thoughts from across the table.

"Let me get this straight." Dean cleared his throat, leaning forward in his chair. "You're the garden fairy and you're telling us that the trees have something to do with this? Not really working your best angle here, if you ask me."

The garden rustled again. A white duck emerged from one of the bushes followed by a string of ducklings. You shrugged tiredly.

"I'm trying to help." Your voice was soft. Melancholic.

Your hand reached for a strawberry sitting on a tower of others just past Sam's cup, crocheted sleeve slipping back to your elbow to reveal the scores of golden, beaded jangling bracelets and--

Sam's blood ran all the way icy, turning to a slurry in his veins.

"Care to explain that?" Dean's voice came passing over him as if said from the end of a very long corridor.

Twisting your wrist to look, you shook your head. You grabbed the strawberry and brought it to your lips with the other hand.

"Oh, this?" A jagged scar peaked from the edge of your elbow up into the palm of your hand. It shone pink with marred tissue. "You think I got this from kidnapping children?"

Sam's heartbeat was ringing in his ears, he gripped the edge of his seat with whitened knuckles. His eyes chased up to the side of your face, finding the little spot by your eyebrow where ... the end was split with the mark of the edge of a blade in a fight gone wrong.

"Not mine unfortunately." You continued, dissolving the strawberry to pieces between your lips. "My other half's. I swear they're a bull-fighter or a boxer the way they bang me up."

Somewhere a bird chirped. There was a turbo washing machine in Sam's stomach on full blast and he thought he was about to be sick. At the same time, he was washed over by a feeling of inexplicable warmth. Like a cooled stream of bubbling champagne down his gullet. Like how they always said it might feel. Only now he could put a feeling to the talk.

"Listen, if we find out you've got something to do--"

"D-Dean," Sam's voice tripped over pebbles, "We should go."

The hands now released from the edges of his seat were shaking and his palms were scorching.

Dean looked at him, confusion tugging on his hardened face. Sam thought he might argue, but he nodded slowly. Maybe he noticed his brother's red, sweating face. Again, maybe he was just bored.

"Uh, yeah." He started to push the chair out, but his eyes drifted on a ham and cheese sandwich lingering on his plate. He hesitated.

You jumped up quickly, wrapping Lydia like a scarf, all in the same motion. "I've got a box you can take some food, if you'd like? I could just run inside--?"

"That would be great--"

"No, that's really not necessary--"

Your eyes drifted to Sam, waving him off with a smile that buckled his knees now that he was standing. "Don't be ridiculous. Let me go grab them."

Figure disappearing into the house again, Dean surveyed his brother. "What's up with you?"

Sam didn't answer. In fact he didn't say anything at all until you'd returned, Dean had stuffed as many sandwiches and pieces of cake he could fit into the tupperware and you packed Sam a box against his will.

Not as soon as he would have liked, they were standing at the door again out on the porch front.

"We'll be back, probably." Dean quipped officially, but he lifted the box of food all the same. "Oh, and uh ... thanks."

You were smiling again. "Sure. You know where to find me."

Not for the first time that morning, Sam was struggling to peel his gaze off your face. Your eyes were a swirling mess of colour and the light was flickering off of them at him.

"I'll see you around, Bigfoot."

Your shoulder peeked at him from under your top, a deep red welt matching his own left collarbone.

He nodded curtly, turning back down the path even before his brother. His collar was sticky against his neck and his brain was firing off signals the whole walk down, it begged him to turn back.

Dean jogged to catch up.

"What the hell is going--"

Sam slammed the door on him, crashing into the passenger's seat. He began ripping off his suit, the black jacket flung mindlessly into the back of the Impala.

By the time Dean fell into the driver's seat he was already fighting against the button securing the shirt to his right wrist.

"You have been acting all sorts of crazy since we got here, Sammy. What the hell is--"

Sam pried back the sleeve: bunching it at his elbow. He stuck his arm out to his brother.

Dean glanced between his face and his arm only once before pausing. The long jagged scar from his palm up his arm was impossible to miss. The one that sat identical on your arm.

"Oh."

Sam was sucking in deep breaths through his nose.

Dean's eyebrows rose into his hairline. He let off a disbelieving laugh.

"Well, I'll be damned."

-

taglist:

@firstsnowdrop @writerofthewinds @aria1245 @nyx22-blogs @lucysaloser @britishscum @pookiesnatcher @music-keep-me-sane @cryptid-with-a-cane @sammys-concubine @i-live-for-fantasy @grimbunnie @crystalreedwifey

[spnexploration]

Escort

Synopsis: Dean needs an escort to help him with his cover on a case (more of a case fic with flirting, no smut)

Pairing: I see it as Dean Winchester x reader but could be read as Dean Winchester x OC (no physical descriptions are given and she goes by what is clearly a fake name the whole time)

Warnings: Canon-typical violence

Words: 3k

This fulfils the Escort square of my 2023 SPN AU Bingo @spnaubingo

A/N: It's nice to write a really competent, confident female character!

Supernatural writing masterlist

“Dean,” Sam implored, “I don’t think this is a good idea.”

“Sammy, I swear to God, you keep whining about the plans and I’m gonna stop telling you the plans.”

“She’s a distraction at best, and a liability at worst!”

Dean rounded on him, “Is your complaint because she sells her services?”

“What? No.”

“Really? Because you’ve sure made a lot of jokes over the years about women in her line of business.”

“Dean, stop it. I’m worried about her getting hurt, or getting you hurt.”

“It will be fine. For all she knows, I just needed a girl to make me look good to the other suits. She won’t even know I’m casing the joint while we mingle. Nothing will happen, you and I will go back later without the girl. Girl will just earn some easy cash looking pretty.”

Sam sighed. Dean took that as a win. He gave his brother one last look before grabbing his keys off the motel room table. “I’ll go find a girl.”

---

Dean rolled down the window as he pulled up to a girl standing on the street corner. He was already in a tux. “Hey sweetheart,” he said as he rolled down the window. “You wanna have a Pretty Woman moment tonight?”

She looked like she was struggling to control the urge to roll her eyes. He liked her already.

“Hey handsome,” she said, leaning through the open car window. “What did you have in mind?”

“I need an escort for a big fancy party my work is throwing.”

“And you didn’t want to call a real escort service?”

“The others probably know all of them.” She laughed. “So I thought I’d branch out.” In reality, he didn’t want the arrangement written down anywhere.

“And let me guess, you want some services that aren’t available on their menu, too?”

“Nah, strictly escort tonight. Possibly the easiest money you’ll make, except for the need to smile your way through painful small talk about the best way to fold napkins.”

“And what would you have me wear?” she asked in a sultry voice.

“I got ya a dress. It’s in the back, we’ll go to the service station and you can get changed in the bathroom.”

“How long’s the party?”

“Few hours.”

“I charge $120/hr.”

“Fine.”

She opened the car door and slid inside. “Nice car,” she remarked as she ran her hands over the seat.

“My Baby’s the best,” Dean replied with a smirk, before speeding off.

---

Dean pulled up to the line of cars waiting to go into the party. He turned to the woman beside him, now resplendent in a beautiful dress he’d gotten at the op shop earlier that afternoon.

“Uh, I uh, I forgot to ask. What should I call you?” he said, suddenly awkward.

She laughed. “You can call me… Hazel.”

“Alright, Hazel it is. Where’d we meet?”

“The street corner.” He raised an eyebrow at her. “I had a flat and you helped me with it.”

“Ok. Recently?” He enjoyed letting her lead.

“Just the other day.”

“Sounds good.”

“So, what do I call you, handsome?”

“Drake,” Dean said, his hand on the car door handle as a valet came up to greet them. He headed around the car and opened her door, holding his hand out to help her out. He reached his arm around her waist and held her to him. “I’m new at the company,” he whispered, “So not many people know me.”

She shot him a quick, concerned glance before schooling her features back into a smile. Dean led her up the steps and into the party, flashing two tickets on his way past.

---

The party was going well. No one seemed to mind that they’d never seen him before in their lives, and Hazel fit in better than he could have imagined. He hadn’t expected that the girl he’d gotten off a street corner would be able to pull off the escort idea, but he’d been hoping she would take the attention away from him. That wasn’t happening now that she was actually good at it, but instead they seemed to be blending in. He’d take it.

He put his hand on the small of her back and leaned down to her ear, “I gotta go to the bathroom, I’ll be back.” She smiled at him and he walked off. He glanced around the room, but he couldn’t see the artefact he was looking for.

He headed into another room, still surreptitiously checking out the walls and display cases. He headed for an empty corridor and pulled his phone out, quickly dialling Sam. “Yo, you got any idea where this thing might be? It’s not in the main hall.”

“Dean, you are the one who said that was exactly where it would be and we didn’t need any further investigation!”

“Yeah, well, I might be wrong. Zero amulets.”

“I dunno, keep scoping out the place. What’d you do with the girl?”

“Told her I was going to the bathroom, so I can’t take too long.”

“Yet another reason it was a bad idea to take her.”

“Shut it, bitch.” Dean hung up the phone, Sam was no use.

He quickly scoped out the room closest to him before deciding he needed to head back to his date.

---

She smiled as he approached. “You took a while,” she said.

“Couldn’t find it, and then there was a line of women. They take forever.”

“You try peeing in one of these dresses.”

“Nah, I’m good,” he said with a grin. She really was perfect, he’d like to have taken her out for real some time.

He glanced around, seeing the drinks table. “You want another-” he started to ask, before fading out. He saw it, the amulet. It was around the neck of the bloody hostess of the party. Not. Good.

“Yes?” Hazel asked, drawing his attention back to her.

“I- uh- sorry.”

“You see something you like?” she said with a smirk, following his line of sight to the beautiful woman with the amulet.

“Oh, no, just, you know, lost my train of thought.”

“Uh huh,” she replied, deadpan.

He looked back at her properly, “Tonight’s all about you, sweetheart.” He flashed her a smile, that usually worked.

“Let’s go talk to her, if you’re so enamoured,” she said, starting to walk towards the lady.

“No! No, wait!” he said, reaching for her hand to prevent her getting near the woman. He had a sneaking suspicion that being near the amulet would’ve been very bad for the hostess, given the descriptions he’d read about its powers. It hadn’t been entirely clear, but he had a feeling she might be being possessed by a powerful being. He didn’t want Hazel anywhere near her.

Hazel rolled her eyes and tugged her hand of his grip, heading towards the woman. “No, Hazel!” Dean said, which brought the attention of the hostess on him.

“HUNTERS!” she yelled, suddenly holding a fireball in her hand. Fuck, a witch. Hazel had paused in shock, so Dean grabbed her waist and pulled her behind him. Others were screaming and running. The witch threw the fireball, Dean dived out of the way and pulled Hazel along with him. He raced to hide behind the bar as she threw another one. The room was rapidly emptying of party-goers, running for their lives.

He reached into his pants and pulled out his gun. “Stay down,” he hissed at Hazel, who had just peeked over the bar. To his dismay, he saw her reach up under her dress and similarly pull out a gun. He groaned.

“NYPD, we can discuss your activities later,” she whispered to him.

“Of all the women on all the street corners, I got the secret cop.” She started looking like she was going to peek over the bar again and he pulled sharply on her arm to keep her down. “If those aren’t witch-killing bullets, you’ve got no chance.”

“Of all the thieves on all the street corners, I had to get the deranged one who thinks witches are real.”

“You see that fireball she threw at us? That ain’t normal, sweetheart.”

Speaking of fireballs, one took that moment to crash into the glass mirror above them, raining small pieces of glass all over them. Dean sheltered Hazel’s body with his own, then pulled out his phone.

“She’s a freaking witch, Sam!” he hissed into the phone after Sam had picked up. “We’re under attack.”

“Who is?”

“The woman who owns the amulet, she’s wearing it!”

There was a loud crack as the bar they were hiding behind took a frontal hit. It wasn’t going to last much longer.

“I’m on my way,” Sam said in the phone.

“That might be too late,” Dean replied, looking for an exit strategy. He couldn’t see one.

“There!” Hazel hissed, pointing at a door in the panelling of the back wall of the bar area. She crawled over to it, wrenching it open. “It’s a dumbwaiter.”

“Get in it,” Dean replied, “I’ll send you down.”

“No, we can both get in it. You’re not going to survive by yourself here.” To emphasise her point, more of the mirror exploded above her head. He was pretty sure the witch was just playing with them now.

He stood up, trying to get a good shot at the witch. She was surrounded by henchmen and impossible to fire at, but she threw another fireball at him.

“Ok,” he said, crossing quickly to her.

“You get in first,” Hazel ordered.

“No.”

“We’ll only fit if I’m on top of you, get in.”

He saw the determination on her face and surrendered. He awkwardly climbed in to the cramped space, then held out his hands to take her. She squished herself in on top of him, hitting a button on the side before closing the door. The cart began to drop.

Dean held his gun up, pointed at the door, as Hazel unlatched it. They were in the wine cellar, with no one around. The staff had probably run off at the sound of the gun fight upstairs. It was even harder to get out then it had been to get in, but they managed it.

Dean took a look around, looking for a door that might lead to the outside. “There,” Hazel whispered, pointing at a door to the left of them. He nodded and followed her, pulling his phone back out of his pocket.

“Sam?”

“Thank God,” Sam replied. He could hear the sound of a car, Sam must’ve jacked one. “What’s going on?”

“We’re in the cellar.”

“Ok, you’re going to need to get out and meet me so we can go back in and gank the witch.”

“I don’t think that’s going to work, Sam. They’re going to be looking for us.”

“What’s your plan?”

“I go back in, gank the witch. Sam, you get Hazel out.”

“Uh huh,” Hazel said, spinning back to him, “And how exactly are you going to do that alone?”

“Sweetheart, this ain’t my first rodeo.”

“As I might have mentioned earlier, mine either.”

“Can someone explain what is going on?” Sam yelled from the phone.

“Hazel’s a cop,” Dean replied, moving very close to her. “But no witch-killing bullets and this ain’t your normal perp, so you’re not coming with me.”

“You try to stop me going in there and it’s a crime,” she glared at him. “Obstruction of justice.”

“The justice you were looking for tonight was men who want to pick up sex workers, not witches who want to kill.”

“I’m multi-tasking.”

“The hell you are.”

“OI!” Sam yelled again. “Can you two stop squaring off for one minute to come up with a plan so you don’t both die?”

“Fine.”

“Fine.”

“Right,” Sam continued. “How many witch-killing bullets you got left, Dean?”

“4.”

“Give me 2,” Hazel replied.

“That will halve our chances, sweetheart.”

“You keep being that arrogant and I’ll cuff you to the dumbwaiter.”

“Jesus Christ, can you both stop it?!” Sam complained.

“Ok. I give you two bullets, and then what?”

“I go in as bait,” Hazel responded, “and you hide. If the moment presents itself, you shoot.”

“You are not going in there as bait. I did not drag an innocent into this to get killed. I’ll be bait, you hide.”

She glared at him, but eventually nodded.

“And you’re taking 3 of the bullets.”

“That’s suicide.”

“It increases our chances of you ganking the witch.”

“I’m not a bad shot.”

“Me either.”

“Ok, I’m nearly there,” Sam said from the phone, seemingly forgotten in the standoff between Dean and Hazel. “I’ll try and get in and bring extra munition. I’m tall and I have long hair, please don’t shoot me.”

“Alright, see you soon Sammy.” Dean hung up the phone. He opened his gun and started to take out bullets, handing them to her.

“So,” Hazel said with a smirk, “Dean, is it? That’s what the guy on the phone called you.”

“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure Hazel isn’t your real name either. I’ll give you 5 minutes to get in a good position before I start the distraction.”

She nodded and started to jog away to the right. He couldn’t believe he was doing this.

---

Dean took a deep breath. He’d pulled out his other gun, filled with silver bullets that were going to be useless against a witch. But they might be good on henchmen, any bullet’s a good bullet if you’re human. And they’d make a distraction.

He put the normal gun in his left hand, saving his one shot with the witch-killing bullet for his dominant hand. He didn’t think he’d get a good shot, but he’d make it count if he did.

He estimated it had been about 5 minutes since Hazel had gone. Show time.

He crept up the stairs at the opposite end to where she’d gone. He could see henchmen scouring the other rooms, probably looking for him and Hazel. He took a moment to steel himself, then headed around the corner, back into the main room.

He started firing with his left-hand gun as soon as he entered the room, taking down random henchmen. Fairly quickly he was having to dive to the side, another fireball headed his way. He didn’t know where Hazel was, which he realised was a bit of a flaw in his plan. He didn’t know where to lead the witch.

Not that he was really in control of the situation. He was barely surviving as it was. He fired over his shoulder and ran for cover.

He was diving for new cover when he spotted Sam out the corner of his eye. He diverted the other direction, hoping he was still creating enough of a diversion.

Suddenly, the room exploded behind him. He span around, ducking his head under his arms to shield himself from debris.

“Witch is dead,” he head Sam yell, “Let’s go.”

“Gotta find the girl,” Dean yelled back, searching around. He could see Sam doing the same thing on the other side of the room, intermingled with the two of them firing at the few henchmen who hadn’t fled or died already. The explosion had been dramatic, Dean had no idea how Sam had caused it.

Dean finally found Hazel, trying to extricate herself from under some debris. He lifted the remnants of a table off her, holding his hand out to her to pull her up. She limped out so he wrapped his arm around her waist, helping her move faster. They quickly made it to Sam and got out of the building.

---

“I don’t know what the hell I just witnessed tonight but I have no idea how I’m going to explain this to my supervisors,” Hazel said when they were back at the Impala.

“If I were you, I’d leave out the witch throwing fireballs. Doesn’t go down well,” Dean replied.

“I suppose you want me to leave out that the serial killers Sam and Dean Winchester were here too.”

Dean shot her a glare. “We’re not serial killers, we hunt the supernatural.”

“And sometimes the supernatural like to impersonate us and give us a bad name,” Sam added. “We didn’t shoot those people in that footage from the bank vault, monsters with our faces did.”

“Any other day and I wouldn’t have believed you, but tonight I’m a little more inclined. One question though – you always pick up random women to bring into harm's way?”

“Uh, not normally, no,” Dean said, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. “I genuinely thought we were just going to be looking for the amulet tonight, and I just wanted someone to try and take some of the attention off me. Sorry.”

She laughed, “Wow, you don’t seem like a man who apologises easily.”

Sam, behind Dean, was laughing and shaking his head.

“So, what are you going to do?” Dean asked her.

“I have to call this in.”

Dean nodded, grimacing slightly.

“But that doesn’t mean I have to mention you,” she continued.

Dean smiled. Sam said, “Thank you.”

“When did you know?” Dean asked. “Who we were, I mean.”

“You looked a little familiar to me when I got in the car, but I thought you’d just been in the photo list of known sex worker users I’d looked at. Wasn’t until I learnt your names were Sam and Dean and you were handing me special bullets that I remembered.”

Dean nodded.

“Alright, you two better hit the road before anyone gets here. They probably already noticed the explosion.”

“Do I get to know your real name?” Dean said with one of his charming smiles. She gave a smirk and pulled a folded business card from out of a hidden compartment in her gun. “Thanks, sweetheart.”

She reached over and kissed his cheek, “Thanks for saving my life.”

“Anytime,” Dean replied, opening the driver’s door and jumping in. Sam jumped in the other side and they sped off, into the night.

“So how’d you make an explosion? Or did she just explode when you shot her?” Dean asked Sam.

“Witch-killing grenade, been working on it as a prototype. Same idea as the bullets.”

“Niiiiiiice.”

Dean twirled the business card in his fingers. Would've liked to get to know that girl some more.

.

.

.

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[mittensmorgul]

Christmas, Present

Pairings: Dean/Cas, Charlie/Gilda Words: 6102 Tags: Holiday fluff, college au, getting together, matchmaker charlie Rating: T

Summary:

Charlie just wants her best friend to be happy, and has been trying for four years to help Dean meet his perfect match. A last-ditch effort and a laid back holiday party in the woods could either help Dean find the Christmas spirit he'd been missing out on most of his life, or else backfire spectacularly. She could honestly use a Christmas miracle...

Read it now on Ao3, or the entire story below the cut :)

Two Weeks Before The Party

Charlie only ever wandered through the earth sciences department once a week on her way to class, but she was thrilled the day she actually managed to catch Benny hanging up a flier for the forestry department’s annual Christmas tree harvest blowout bash. Every year, it was the biggest unofficial holiday party on campus, and every year she tried to use it as an excuse to play matchmaker for Dean Winchester. It wasn’t the only time she tried to play matchmaker for him, obviously, but she always put in her best effort for that party.

Not only was it just sad to spend the holidays alone every year, the guy worked himself to the bone year round. And since Charlie had failed for three and a half years to convince him he needed an occasional excuse to let loose once in a while, even consider dating seriously and having a social life outside of their small group of friends, she was worried about him. Sure, he went on an occasional date, but nothing ever seemed to stick for long before he went right back to his old routines.

She’d been convinced that the only person who could succeed at the task of winning Dean’s heart was someone who magically didn’t seem to exist. She’d devoted an exceedingly large portion of her free time to trying to find that person anyway. And since they were seniors, she felt like she was running out of time to find Dean’s unicorn.

She sidestepped her way through the crowded hallway and zipped in right behind Benny.

“How’s the planning coming?”

Benny slowly looked over his shoulder, and then dropped his gaze down to her with a grin on his face.

“We got the last of this year’s harvest cleared out today. Brought in a tidy little profit, but tomorrow we start clearing the ground and preparing for spring planting of the new saplings. We got a ways to go before we can move into party planning mode yet,” he warned her. “Plus we got two weeks yet before the big night.”

She peered around his shoulder to read the flier. Every year it was essentially the same. The forestry majors decorated the clearing, set up a big tent and hauled out tables and chairs, but it was really the guests themselves who were expected to do most of the work. It was bring your own everything. Most folks showed up with their choice of alcohol— which was mostly the cheapest beer they could get their hands on, and the assortment of holiday-themed adult beverages like cider, egg nog and mulled wine— and a wide variety of takeout. One year, someone managed to haul out an entire living room set, including the fake fireplace with stockings nailed to it.

For a college party, it was practically sedate, and always felt more like a bunch of kids hiding in the forest pretending to be adults than a literal group of adults throwing a raucous party. Not that things didn’t get wild out there in their own way, but your typical frat party it was not.

The vibe could best be summed up as a decompression session between finishing exams and preparing to venture home and face the family for a few weeks. For an event that took place in an often snow-covered forest clearing, it was cozy. Sheltered from the wind by next year’s nearly grown Christmas trees decorated with random assorted lights and garlands, and a big bonfire with all the scraps trimmed from the most recent harvest of pine tree branches that crackled and popped as people drunkenly attempted to toast marshmallows over it. But it definitely fostered an atmosphere of getting cozy with your neighbor, and as such Charlie was borderline desperate to get Dean to connect with someone there. This was her last chance to spark that kind of magical holiday cheer and romance for Dean before they graduated and inevitably all went their separate ways.

Now she just had to convince him to show up.

Six Days Before The Party

“Charlie, for the last time I am not gonna hike out into the woods to freeze my ass off and make nicey nicey with a bunch of people I barely know,” Dean said a week and a half later.

She really was running out of time now. The party was in less than a week, exams were almost over, and while she knew Dean was staying on campus over the holiday break, he’d overextended himself again and was still struggling to put the finishing touches on all the portraits he was painting people as holiday gifts.

“It’s just a few hours, Dean,” she wheedled, lying on his bed and studying for her final exam while Dean painted at his desk. “And you know me and Gilda, and Benny, and Max and Alicia, and a bunch of our other friends will be there too. You deserve a break.”

Dean snorted, turning toward her with a little glob of blue paint smeared on his cheek. “Yeah, and I’m gonna get three whole weeks of break just as soon as everyone else clears out of here and leaves me with peace and quiet.”

Charlie frowned at him, getting up and crossing over to him to remove the blue streak from his face with her thumb, showing him the results of her efforts when he gave her an odd look. He batted her hand away and grumbled as he went back to his work.

“You need a social break,” she replied. “You know, where you talk to actual living people instead of just the portraits you paint of them.”

“I’m talking to you right now,” he replied without bothering to look up at her.

She dropped back on to the edge of the bed, crossing her arms and watching him for another moment.

“Why are you so grinchy about the holidays? Because it usually doesn’t take this much work to get you to at least be sociable for an hour or two. There’s gotta be something there…”

Dean stiffened, and took a deep breath. Charlie was worried for a second that she’d crossed a line, struck a too-painful nerve, but she just waited to see how Dean would react. At least he wasn’t yelling. Eventually he dropped his paintbrush in the cup of dirty paint water, clasped his hands, and spun his chair around to face her.

“Well aside from the fact I don’t enjoy freezing my ass off—”

“You know there is a bonfire, right? It’s plenty warm around the fire.”

Dean continued as if she hadn’t interrupted him. “I hate all that fake holiday magic shit. The cheesy music, the plastic decorations, it all just sucks and I get enough of that just walking through the grocery store this time of year. I don’t need to seek it out on purpose.”

Charlie frowned at him. “You do understand that we mostly sit around complaining about exams and professors, and all the stupid shit our families are gonna drag us to back home, or all the stupid shit they made us do as kids. Worst holiday memory story wins a case of beer,” she said, hoping that might entice his inner Scrooge.

“Yeah, well, my worst holiday memory was the year our house burned down and took my mom with it. Dad spent it in a bottle, and I spent it trying to keep my infant brother alive. I was five.”

He’d watched the look of horror spread across Charlie’s face as he ranted at her, and then looked contrite. In a much gentler voice, and with a sad smile, he continued.

“Look, that’s all in the distant past, but I really fucking hate dredging it up every year under the guise of celebrating something most people think is jolly fun, you know? I really ain’t good company this time of year.”

“I’m so sorry, Dean, I had no idea,” she said.

His smile turned more genuine as he reached out and patted her knee. “It’s okay, you couldn’t have known. Sometimes it’s just easier to just stay out of everyone else’s way rather than be a constant wet blanket about it. I’m not here to piss in anyone’s egg nog.”

She nodded slowly, and took a deep breath. “That’s why you make paintings for everyone every year,” she realized. “Giving people the piece of yourself you can, showing them they’re loved, without having to say it out loud.”

Dean frowned at her, but didn’t disagree. “Sounds dumb when you just say it like that, but yeah. I can’t really be part of it, but I’m still there with everyone in spirit, I guess.”

After a few quiet minutes, Charlie dared to speak again.

“Have you thought that maybe you just need to make some better memories to pin to the holidays? Not that you could ever erase the pain, but maybe it doesn’t have to control the rest of your life.”

Dean sighed, and nodded. “Yeah, I tried a few times back in high school. Took a job as an elf at the mall one year and earned enough to buy Sammy some decent presents for once, but that didn’t really do much to improve my opinion of the holidays in general.”

“Yeah, capitalism will do that to you,” she replied, commiserating. “The mall is not known for being an epicenter of the true spirit of Christmas.”

Dean snorted. “Yeah, it definitely didn’t inspire the whole peace and goodwill shit, anyway.”

Charlie smiled at him. “Well, I promise I won’t push if you really don’t want to come, but if you do…”

Dean held up a hand like he was gonna protest again, but Charlie just talked louder at him.

“If you DO come, I also promise a chance to make some more pleasant holiday memories with a bunch of people who actually care about you. Worst case scenario, you get to hang out with me for an hour or two, and I’ll bring you home the second you decide you can’t take it anymore. I’ll even make you a thermos of that hot cinnamon cider you like that tastes like alcoholic apple pie.”

Dean actually let out a little laugh at that, and shook his head. “I appreciate that, Charlie, and I swear I’ll think about it, okay? But right now, I gotta get back to work here. And you probably do, too,” he reminded her, pointing at her open textbook and piles of notes.

Charlie knew she’d at least done the best she could. Now she just had to tackle the other side of her problem. Who to introduce Dean to at the party that had the power to not only un-grinchify him, but convince him the holiday spirit was more than just the ghosts of Christmas past.

Three Days Before The Party

“Hey, Cas,” Charlie said to the library clerk who helped her check out the last stack of books she needed to plow through before her final exam in the morning.

She and Dean had both known Cas for years, even if he was an even bigger enigma to her than Dean was. He was an art history major, and Charlie knew he shared a few classes with Dean every semester, but he’d been even more difficult to convince to let loose and have a good time than Dean. The only time she’d been able to convince him to join them for a game night had been using Dean himself as a lure, and then Dean had had the nerve to bail on them for a date that he ended up bailing on halfway through dinner when it was clear they really didn’t have anything in common. When Cas had shown up and learned Dean wouldn’t be there after all, he awkwardly tried to make the best of it, but ended up excusing himself after a single round of Cards Against Humanity. Charlie had tried to invite him again many times, but he always had some excuse at the ready.

She knew he worked hard, between his classes and long hours in the library, but she really didn’t know him well outside of that. Aside from what Dean had told her about him— since Dean spent a suspicious amount of time talking about him— she really didn’t know him at all. But maybe that was just the thing… maybe she’d been trying too hard to find the perfect person for Dean when he’d been right there all along. But if she wasn’t even sure Dean would drag his sorry ass out to the party, she couldn’t very well invite Cas based on the tenuous hope that Dean would be there, too. No, she realized standing there wearily pondering her options. This would require subterfuge. But like, mistletoe-festooned subterfuge. She was struck with a bolt of inspiration, and began laying the groundwork for a plan that was practically foolproof, even if these two idiots didn’t want to cooperate.

“Oh, hello, Charlie,” Cas said when he blearily scanned in her card and finally recognized her. “Still studying for your finals?”

“Yeah, four down, one to go. What about you? Are you finally free yet?”

Cas nodded, looking like he was about to pass out on the desk. “One more,” he replied, lifting up the open textbook from behind the counter to show her. “I’ve been cramming between helping desperate people find last minute study resources.”

“Sheesh, they don’t even cut you a break during finals week? You look like you need a coffee. Or maybe a nap.”

“I can sleep tomorrow at three o’clock, after I finish my last exam. I have it penciled in on my calendar.”

“Well, if you’re recovered by Saturday night, you should really come out to the forestry department’s Christmas party. It’s a nice, relaxing way to end out the semester.”

Cas squinted at her, confused. “I was unaware you studied forestry.”

Charlie couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her. “I don’t, they just put on the best holiday do on campus. You met Benny at that game night, right? He’s the current mastermind behind the party planning.”

Cas nodded slowly. “Yes, I remember Benny.” He frowned then. “I see him with Dean a lot.”

Charlie knew she was losing him, and considering his current lack of focus it probably hadn’t been the best time to bring it up, but it wasn’t like she had a lot of time.

“Well, it’s totally worth delaying your plans to go home for a day or two for. If you need a little warmth and human kindness.”

“Those things all sound lovely, but I am home, so I suppose I won’t be going anywhere for winter break.”

Charlie blinked at him. “Wait, I thought you were from Boston or something? Or is it Chicago? How did I get that so wrong?”

Cas let out an ugly little laugh. “Well, I was from Boston until my parents decided that I was no longer welcome in their home.”

“Oh, oh Cas, I’m sorry…” Charlie said, and between stumbling across Dean’s childhood trauma and now faceplanting directly into Cas’s family drama in an effort to get them both in the same place at the same time, she was pretty convinced she’d failed completely.

“It’s fine, Charlie,” Cas replied with a sad smile. “It’s better this way.”

“Well, then you have twice the reason to come out and share a little holiday cheer with friends,” she replied, smiling encouragingly at him and sliding one of the fliers with the party details across the counter to him when he handed back her books. “We’ll be glad to have you.”

“I’ll think about it,” Cas replied, taking the paper and setting it down on his textbook. “Good luck with your exam tomorrow.”

“Yeah, Cas, you too,” she replied, collecting her things and heading for home. She was pretty sure there was at least a 50-50 shot that either of them might show up. But at least she’d paved the way for part two of her dastardly plan.

Party Day

Charlie arrived at the clearing before dusk. She expected to pitch in with the setup, and had brought a massive collection of ornaments she’d pulled out of the trees after last year’s party. Benny and his crew were nearly done stringing up all the lights, the tent and dozens of tables and chairs had already been assembled and arranged, and the bonfire pit was nearly ready to set ablaze. The weather had been unexpectedly cooperative, and it was warmer than usual, if still technically cold. At least it wasn’t raining, Charlie thought as she set her tote bags down and began hanging sparkly plastic baubles on lit trees.

“We were wondering where all those went off to,” Benny said, grinning at her and making his way over with a large box of new ornaments to add to Charlie’s.

“Well, you guys usually end up chucking them out or losing them every year, so last year I decided to take matters into my own hands,” she said, hanging another bauble and then turning her own grin on Benny. “Reduce, reuse, recycle, right?”

“That’s much appreciated, Red. Shame you didn’t go into forestry.”

“Even the forestry service needs IT people,” Charlie replied. “It’s not too late to recruit me.”

Benny laughed. “Yeah, well, I tried recruiting Dean after he said something similar about architects and artists, and yet…” he waved his hands around at everyone busily working around the clearing. “He’s nowhere to be found.”

Charlie frowned. “Did he tell you he was coming?”

“I know better than to ask him, but when he dropped off me and Andrea’s Christmas presents last night, I mentioned we hoped to see him here. He was… noncommittal about it.”

Charlie snorted. “Yeah, I’ve been nagging him since last weekend. I figure it would take a miracle to get him to show his pretty face, even for an hour or two.”

“The boy is set in his ways,” Benny replied. “He’s got his reasons, and I’m not gonna pry too hard into them.”

“Well, if you do see him tonight, just let him be, okay?” Charlie pleaded. “If he shows up, he’s got his reasons, and I don’t think it would help to tease him about it.”

Benny considered her for a moment, really thinking about what she was trying to tell him. “What sort of shenanigans do you have up those big pink puffy sleeves, Bradbury?” Benny asked with one suspiciously raised eyebrow.

“I’m just here to have a good time,” Charlie replied, a little more sing-songy than she’d intended.

“You just leave me out of any trouble you’re thinking of stirring up,” Benny replied. “The whole point of this shindig is to leave for the holidays on good feelings.”

“That’s the goal,” Charlie muttered under her breath, and then shot Benny a winning smile and patted his shoulder with her fuzzy mitten.

“Mmhmmm,” Benny replied, and then sighed, getting back to his work. “Just don’t let me hear you were causing problems, and we’re all good.”

Charlie waited until after dark, patiently keeping an eye out for Dean and Cas, hoping she wouldn’t have to activate her emergency protocol. She tried to enjoy the Thai takeout her girlfriend Gilda brought a few hours later, only having a couple of drinks and not really letting herself go too crazy, but of course Gilda noticed how distracted she seemed.

“Okay, so what’s really bothering you?” Gilda asked after watching Charlie anxiously pick at her food for half an hour. “You’re not worried about meeting my parents, are you? Because I told you they’re going to adore you.”

“What? No, absolutely not,” Charlie replied, turning a reassuring smile on her girlfriend. “I know we’re gonna have an amazing time with your family. I was just hoping to see Dean before we leave. I worry about him all alone here over break.”

Gilda smiled fondly at her. “This is why I love you. You care so much about all the people in your life. If he doesn’t show up by the time we leave, we can stop by his place on our way out tomorrow. Maybe take him out for lunch and call it our own little party.”

Charlie felt the tension melt from her shoulders. “See, this is why I love you, too. You get me. That I just don’t know how not to care so much.”

They finished their food, then moved over to the fire pit where Max was handing out little prepackaged kits to make s’mores and tending the flames. Alicia passed out mulled wine in little paper cups, ladled from a huge soup pot perched carefully on a large flat stone by the fire while conversation turned toward everyone’s plans for the long break. Charlie let herself relax for a little while, but when she checked her watch she knew it was now or never for her little plan. She sighed, leaned in and kissed Gilda’s cheek, and then stood up.

“You just wait here, I’ll be back in a few minutes, okay?”

Gilda nodded, only a little confused as Charlie pulled her phone out of her pocket and stepped away from the warmth of the fire. Her first call was to Cas, because if she couldn’t convince him to come, there was no point to making her second call. He was a good guy, though, and she only hoped he’d recovered from his post-exam exhaustion enough to actually be awake as she pulled up his contact info. It was still early, she convinced herself. At least, it wasn’t too late to ask a favor from a friend.

She took a deep breath and dialed the phone. If she swayed a little on her feet to help herself get into character, nobody else had to know.

“Hello, Charlie, how are you this evening?” Cas said when he answered.

“A little drunk,” she said, slurring her words just enough to be believable. “I’m so sorry, Cas, but I didn’t know who else to call. Everyone else I know has already left for break, and you’re a solid dude who might take pity on a drunk girl and help her get home safe.”

Cas sighed, but she could hear the smile in his voice when he spoke again. “Where are you, I can come and get you.”

“At the forestry school party. I think someone spiked the cider, and things just got away from me after my third or fourth cup.”

Cas laughed outright at that. “Okay, I might need a few minutes to get ready. Will you be okay until I get there?”

“I’ll just stay by the bonfire. You won’t be able to miss me. I’m the one in a hot pink parka and a toboggan hat with pointy elf ears glued to the ear flaps.”

“Yes, your coat is rather memorable. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes. You just stay put, and maybe don’t have any more cider.”

“Good advice,” Charlie replied. “Though it would’ve been better advice an hour ago.”

“See you soon,” Cas said.

“Thank you, Cas,” Charlie mumbled into her phone, and then hung up and quickly dialed Dean.

The drunk story wouldn’t work on him, she knew from long experience. Dean would just tell her to have Gilda or Benny drive her home. And without getting into a long back and forth, or lying and telling him she and Gilda broke up— which he would never believe anyway— it was easier to concoct an entirely different lie for Dean. One absolutely consistent trait of his was his reflexive impulse to help any of his friends out of a sticky situation. It overrode even his ingrained dislike of Christmas parties.

“What’s up, Charles. I thought you were supposed to be out partying tonight?” Dean asked when he answered.

“Well, I was having a lovely evening at this little soiree, but now my car won’t start and I’m kind of stranded here.”

Dean sighed, and she could hear him fumbling around already pulling his boots on to come out. “So you need a rescue? What’s the problem? Is it turning over at all or is your battery shot?”

“It just clicks and nothing,” Charlie said.

“Yeah, it’s probably a dead battery. Did you leave the lights on?”

“I don’t think so,” Charlie replied.

“Well, I got jumper cables in the trunk, but worst case scenario, I’ll just bring you home and we can figure out what’s wrong with it tomorrow when we got some daylight to work with.”

“Thank you so much, Dean. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate this.”

“Where are you parked?”

“Right up close, not far from the bonfire pit. I’ll meet you there.”

“Stay warm, Charles. I’ll be there in less than ten,” he said, and Charle heard him juggle the phone to pull on his coat as he grabbed his keys and then hung up.

She stood there in the dark for a moment, eyes closed, and then took a deep, fortifying breath. This was all either going to go very, very well, or horribly, awfully wrong. There was no turning back now, though. She marched back to the fire pit and took Gilda’s hand.

“Would you care for a romantic stroll through the woods?” Charlie asked her.

“Only if you promise to tell me all the juicy details of whatever scheme you’ve been planning all night,” Gilda replied, getting to her feet with a knowing smile.

“Of course, now that we’ve crossed the Rubicon, I’ve been dying to tell someone for weeks, actually.”

“Well, then,” Gilda replied. “Lead the way.”

Before they ducked into the trees, Charlie made sure to tell Alicia, Max, and Benny they were going for a little walk. Now that her unwitting accomplices were all primed to play their parts, Charlie led her girlfriend through the softly glowing trees at the edge of the clearing. She led them a couple rows further into the dark, and then looped around under cover of the trees to the other side of the clearing to wait and watch.

While they walked, over the muffled sounds of talking and laughter coming from their friends a short way away through the trees, Charlie explained what she’d done.

“I just couldn’t stand the thought of them both being alone anymore,” she finished with, and Gilda touched a hand to her cheek.

“You are a good friend, Charlie,” she said. “Maybe a little overzealous, but your heart is in the right place.”

“So you don’t think they’re both gonna disown me for this?” Charlie asked, sounding genuinely nervous, because now that everything was out of her hands, she was.

Gilda shrugged. “Dean might not talk to you for a while, but he’ll have three grumpy, lonely weeks to get over it before you have to face him again. He’ll probably have forgiven you by then.”

Charlie let out a shuddering breath and gave a nervous laugh. “I hope so.”

Gilda peeked out through the trees when they heard the engine of Dean’s car pull up. Charlie snatched her arm and tugged her back into the shadows with a warning look. The plan would fall apart before they even had a chance for it to work if Dean caught them now, before Cas even showed up.

Charlie dared a glance, and saw Dean looking at her car briefly, and then wandering over toward the bonfire. He greeted Max, who tried to force a s’mores kit on him, and eventually Dean relented, taking the stick and the little bag of cookies, marshmallows, and chocolate bars from him before apparently asking where Charlie was. Max pointed off in the general direction of the tent, and Dean thanked him before heading over that way. A moment later, he found Benny, who gave him a big hug and offered him a drink that he declined. They talked for a few minutes before Dean remembered his mission, and Benny sent him off into the woods in the direction Charlie and Gilda had gone.

“It’s working perfectly,” Charlie muttered excitedly, as Cas arrived and wandered over to the bonfire moments later, and was also directed toward the tent after a short conversation with Alicia. A few seconds later, he disappeared into the woods, as well.

“So what do we do now?” Gilda asked, sounding as quietly excited and invested in their little game as Charlie was.

“Now, we wait. And if they don’t storm back out in the next few minutes and tear me a new one, we quietly slip away and let nature take its course,” Charlie replied.

In The Woods, Right Friggin’ Now

“Charlie?” Dean called out. “Where the fuck did you go?”

He stomped down the row of lighted trees bordering the clearing, and then pushed his way into the next row, muttering under his breath.

“So much for staying put where I could find you.”

It was only a few minutes before he heard a distinctly familiar voice call out nearby. He shuddered at the sound that had filled some of his most frustrated fantasies over the last few years since they’d become friends, and shoved all those unrequited feelings down when he realized what Cas was doing out there. Also, apparently, looking for Charlie. Well, that was a disheartening development. But at least he figured he could have some help, and possibly even a little company while he scoured the woods for his wayward friend.

Dean took a deep breath and called out for Charlie again. Not far away, Cas’s footsteps froze in their tracks. After an extremely awkward moment, Cas called out again, this time sounding a little confused.

“Dean? Is that you?”

Dean steeled himself, and headed toward Cas’s voice. “Yeah, it’s me. You looking for Charlie, too?”

Cas fought his way through a row of trees and appeared on the path just a few feet from him with a relieved sigh.

“Yes. It’s concerning that she apparently wandered off into the forest in her state.”

“Her state?” Dean asked, taking in the pine needles sticking out of Cas’s disheveled hair.

Cas nodded, brushing more needles from his coat. Dean couldn’t help but think he looked adorably festive.

“She called me asking for a ride home. She was quite inebriated, and she shouldn’t be wandering alone like that.”

Dean snorted, shaking his head, and realized exactly what Charlie had done. “She was deadass sober when she called me ten minutes ago because she was having car trouble.”

Cas’s eyes went wide, still not having fully understood what was going on, or why he was standing in a cold, dark forest. “Then why did she tell me she was drunk if she’s actually having difficulty with her car?”

Dean reached out without thinking and laid a hand on Cas’s shoulder, brushing some more pine needles away and grinning at him. “Dude, I don’t think she’s drunk or stranded. I’m pretty sure we’re being set up.”

“Set up?” Cas asked, tilting his head to the side in that adorable way of his. “For what?”

Dean shrugged, letting his hand drop. He hated to pass up his chance, especially since Charlie had plotted and schemed to get them both out there for some reason. But he knew Cas wasn’t into him in that way, much as it had pained him to realize it years ago. When Cas had pointedly ignored all his flirting when they’d first met, Dean took the hint and had accepted that Cas wasn’t interested in anything other than his friendship. It had been a struggle, and those feelings had never really gone away, but Dean had endured. Cas was far too important to him to cut ties with, even if it broke his heart just a little bit every time Cas smiled at him.

“I think she was trying to get the two of us, out here, alone in the woods.”

Cas’s confusion was not alleviated by that information, so Dean pressed on with a heavy sigh.

“Dude, she was hoping we’d run into each other, laugh about it, and forget all about her as the magic of holiday romance swept us away.”

Cas squinted at him for a moment, before a look of recognition finally crossed his features. “Oh, is this supposed to be like one of those Hallmark Channel movies she talks about?”

Dean snorted, feeling relieved that Cas was finally catching on, but still disappointed that it wouldn’t change anything between them.

“Yeah, her heart’s in the right place, but sometimes her head ain’t quite screwed on all the way.”

Cas nodded, apparently understanding. “Because you’re not gay. I’m surprised she made that kind of mistake.”

Dean blinked at Cas, wondering if he actually heard that right. “What?” was all he could muster.

“She is one of your closest friends, it seems strange she would set you up for a holiday romance with me.” His eyes narrowed again. “Unless this is some sort of prank on us?”

“What?” Dean blurted again, and then shook himself off. Maybe it was the cold wind that had picked up freezing his frontal lobe, or maybe it was just the shock of Cas’s certain but entirely wrong declarations about his sexuality in general and his interest in Cas more specifically. After years of dutifully repressing all those tangled feelings, Dean was entirely unable to stop the flood of words that escaped his mouth next.

“Dude… she set us up because she probably knows I’ve been borderline lovesick over you since the day we met. And for the record, she’s fully aware that I’m bi, which she figured out when I spent the first six weeks of freshman year dating Max.”

“What?” Cas blurted out after staring openmouthed at Dean for a full thirty seconds.

“I thought you knew. I mean, after I spent the first few months after I met you putting all my best moves on you, I figured you just weren’t interested in me that way, and I let it go.”

“What?” Cas repeated, looking truly shocked now.

Dean stared at him for a moment, and then just broke down laughing. “Oh my god, you really didn’t know. You just… didn’t get that I was flirting with you, like at all.”

Cas slowly shook his head. “No, I didn’t. You know I’m not very good at picking up on that sort of thing.”

“Yeah, I’ve come to realize that pretty recently,” Dean said, feeling a giddy kindling of hope in his chest for the first time in years. Maybe Charlie hadn’t been as entirely off the mark as he’d thought. Or maybe she’d just finally accidentally stumbled into the mark. “At the time, I thought you were just trying to let me down easy.”

After a few moments, Cas quietly asked, almost like he was too afraid to hope for the answer he wanted to hear, “So does this mean you would still consider flirting with me now?”

Dean raised an eyebrow and stepped right up into Cas’s personal space. “Does this mean you’d be interested if I was?”

Cas nodded slowly. “I have also been, as you say, borderline lovesick over you, so yes, I would.”

“Huh,” Dean replied as his heart threatened to beat through his ribs. “I guess I’m not about to pass up a Christmas miracle when it’s practically gift wrapped and handed to me.”

Cas didn’t even have time to ask what Dean meant before Dean leaned in and kissed him. A split second was all it took for Cas to recover from his shock and kiss Dean back.

Charlie, Gilda, and their car were long gone by the time Dean and Cas wandered back out of the woods. When he got back to his car, waiting to follow Cas back to his place for a warmer and more comfortable continuation of the evening’s events, Dean sent Charlie a message.

“You were right, I should’ve just agreed to come to the damn party.”

“Everything worked out, then? You’re not gonna hunt me for sport?”

Dean laughed, and replied. “Not for this. We probably owe you a better Christmas present now.”

Charlie just replied, “No more ghosts of Christmas past. You just go and make some happy new memories with Cas, and we’ll call it even.”

Dean sighed and started his engine. He waved to Cas as he got in his car and they headed out together. Yeah, maybe this was exactly the kind of holiday spirit he could live with.

Read it again (or just leave comments or kudos!) on ao3!

[deancasbigbang]

Title: Someone Who Doesn’t Want To Be Saved

Author: RedCraneFalling

Artist: Callion

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Castiel/ Dean Winchester, minor Andrea Howl/ Sam Winchester

Length: 49000

Warnings: Temporary Major Character Death, Child Abuse, Implied/ Referenced Underage Prostitution, Canon Typical Violence, Homophobia/ Parental Homophobia, One use of the F slur

Tags: Childhood Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, John Winchester’s A+ Parenting, Wing Fic, Grace-Soul Bonds, Loss of Virginity, AU - Canon Divergence, Parental Guardian Gabriel, !Kid Sam

Posting Date: October 2, 2023

Summary: A child shall be born of twice-tainted blood, the eldest of two and the two soldiers’ son. A saint’s soul emerges, yet a hunter is made. Born martyr from love, built killer by pain. On his hundredth season, the lock he will break, as Mother kills Child for her Father’s sake.  All God’s angels shall perish by creatures of ol’ ‘less a Seraph gone wayward does hopelessly fall Fledgling angel, Castiel gets in an accident shortly before his seventh birthday, and quite literally falls out of the sky and into Dean’s lap. The two quickly become close, but both of their families are hiding dark secrets. Dean’s in the form of an absent father who seems to drain all happiness from his two children whenever he’s around, and Castiel’s in the form of a prophecy which unites the two boys, but may ultimately tear them apart.

Excerpt: Dean starts climbing and Castiel waits for him to be about halfway up before he flaps his wings twice and jumps to the branch. “Hey no fair!” Dean calls after him, “I forgot you could fly. Flying is cheating.” “You didn’t specify no flying when you made the rules,” Castiel calls back laughing from his perch on the branch.  Castiel watches Dean climb the rest of the way up, his muscles stretching and coiling under the skin of his arms. He’s strong and lithe, graceful and sure of his movements in a way that Castiel can only imitate in flight. On the ground, the calculated angular movements of an Angel make him look robotic in comparison. He is unnatural where Dean is at home, as a true son of the Earth. And God took clay from Earth’s four corners and gave it the breath of life. Man is better than angel. Created for more than just the divine. Their perfect imperfections leave room for beauty. When Dean gets up to the branch he’s huffing with exertion. There’s sweat on his brow where his hair sticks to his forehead, and his cheeks are bright red around his freckles. The flush brings out the green in his eyes.  “Cheater,” Dean accuses when he sees Castiel’s cocky grin. He reaches out and gives Castiel a light shove.  Castiel moves exaggeratedly with the shove, and falls sideways off the tree branch.  “Cas!” Dean yells in alarm before he realizes that Castiel is simply floating in the air slightly under the branch with one leg still hooked over it. “Gonna give me a heart attack,.” Dean grumbles.  Castiel laughs and uses his wings to right himself so he’s sitting on the branch again. He straddles it, facing Dean.  “Would you like to race back down?” he says with a cheeky grin.  “No,” Dean pouts, crossing his arms “You’d probably just jump, Mister I-Can-Survive-a-Tornado.” Castiel laughs boisterously, and it seems his laugh is contagious because Dean starts laughing as well. They both smile, looking at each other. The sun dapples Dean’s skin with patches of light through the leaves.  Castiel walks with the brothers back to the nearby motel they’re staying at. Dean is in an uncharacteristically carefree mood, skipping and chattering on like the first time Castiel met him. When they reach the motel, Dean’s face falls as he looks at a big black car parked outside their room. He picks up Sam and turns towards Cas frowning.  “You gotta go home now, Cas, but we can watch Scooby Doo another day, okay?” he says. Castiel is confused but agrees and flies away.  The next time he sees the Winchester brothers, Dean has a black eye. He won’t tell Castiel where it’s from.

DCBB 2023 Posting Schedule

[samsrosary]

by the way, AU where Sam adopts Magda and takes her home to the bunker before BMOL can kill her. Dean is of course apprehensive at first but over time he gets used to her in the bunker, and she gets used to it too. she even starts to feel safe, and happy, and Sam feels fulfilled and overjoyed that he’s given her such a good life free of the torture before. she gets on with Jack and Cas homeschools them both. they’re a happy family, coexisting and branching as Winchesters often do. so when the BMOL finally track her down to the bunker and kill her anyways the fallout is devastating.

[missacidburn928s-heathenhideaway]

It's hard for me to say, I'm jealous of the way, you're happy without me... (Prologue)

Hunterverse AU

Sy, Walter, Curtis (Lumberjack & the 2 bears) x POC Reader "Havoc/TG"

Ex Dean x Reader

Platonic Sam x Reader

Numerous SPN Characters

Summary:

It’s been quite some time since you last laid eyes on the Winchesters. So naturally they just so happen to stumble into your bar looking for some help on a case. Dean notices that as much as some things have stayed the same regarding you, others have certainly changed. Like your relationship status with not one but three men.

Warnings:

Angst and Fluff and Smut, Jealousy, Hunterverse AU, Polyamory, Humor, Fluff and Humor, Inappropriate Humor, Angst and Romance, Fluff and Angst, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Additional Tags to Be Added

Divider @firefly-graphics Banner @cafekitsune Happy Reading!

Life on the road as a female hunter can be fun. Filled with nights of passion between two or more people just trying to escape their lives for just a little while; but it is also extremely lonely. And for a soul like yours, loneliness, though necessary with the life you’ve led, is painful. Being with someone, even for a couple hours, connecting on some level, be it physical, emotional or both, just making them feel great, is what keeps you grounded and sane. Balanced for just a little while. Short lived but always worth it. Well that was until you met the Winchesters.

You had been working a simple salt and burn in a tiny little town in the middle of Tennessee. A ghost seemed to be causing trouble at the last standing bar in town. Killing the owner and a waitress just two days prior to your arrival. You had already done the whole Fed thing earlier in the day, getting the case breakdown from the local PD and checking out the bodies in the morgue. You needed to talk to the locals and find out a bit of information before really diving deep into research. You decided to forgo the FBI attire and go in something a little more comfortable, that’ll get the locals talking. 

You rifled through your duffle bag and found your favorite pair of jeans. They’re dark gray, high waisted, with a torn left knee from getting caught on a low hanging branch while running through the woods on a Werewolf case a while back, and they hug your curves perfectly. Grabbing a simple white crop top that displays just the right amount of your assets, you complete the look with your favorite red and black flannel and dirty old brown combat boots. Taking a look in the bathroom mirror you decide to throw on a touch of mascara and a burgundy tinted lip balm for a pop of color. “Spectacles, knife, wallet and keys.” You repeat your mental checklist before you leave anywhere. “I think I’m good to go work my charm and maybe bring back someone to play with too.” You laugh at yourself for the overt cheesiness. 

It was while you were prying info out of the sexy little bartender Zoe that John Winchester happened upon you. He let you finish your questioning and then persuaded you over to his table where his two boys sat. A gangly teenager and a cocky pretty boy were there in wait. “These are my boys. Sam and Dean. It seems we’re hunting the same thing. Mind if we join up? A young lady such as yourself shouldn't be hunting alone.”

“It’ll certainly help if I don't have to dig up bones all by myself. Just don't slow me down.” You slyly agree.

That first meeting was a year before Sammy left for Stanford and you never went back to hunting alone. In fact, you became Dean’s outlet for the emotional turmoil brought on by trying to keep the peace within his family. 

You were his bright spot for a long time. Even through John's sacrificial death and his own trip through hell. But when Sammy got locked in the cage, well the Dean you knew and loved disappeared into himself. Determined to keep his promise to Sam, he went off to have an apple pie life with Lisa. Leaving you to lick your wounds and forge a new path for yourself, once again alone. It’s not like you were ever official or anything. You both had flings in different towns with different people. Slept with a woman or two together even. So really you couldn't blame him for how he was handling his grief.

That’s when you decided it was time to go home, heart wounded, but ready to be healed. Your father runs and owns a hunter bar called Total Party Kill, TPK for short. He decided to open it when you left at 18 to spread your wings and hunt on her own. He may be retired from the active part of the hunter's life but he still looks out for everyone and helps where he is needed. 

Who would have thought that while mending your broken heart and slinging beer to rowdy Hunters would be when you met Sy, Walter and Curtis. Three rough around the edges (total softies when it comes to you) men that you get to call your own. Over the years they have more than proved themselves to you, earning your love and devotion. Something about the four of you together just works. If you aren't hunting as a group, you go in pairs, minimum. They can’t stand to leave you alone. There is always someone with you. TPK is your home base and no matter how far you go, you always come back home. You choose hunts as a group and are always willing to help out a hunter in need.  

You share the duties around the bar that your dad has a hard time doing when you’re home. There are no favorites other than you being all of theirs. You’re a fully functioning Quad and at this point in your life you wouldn't have it any other way.

It seems as though Chuck has some plans for his favorite punching bag of a Winchester and they just so happen to involve you. What’s life without a little drama right?

[talesmaniac89]

Charity Heist 2 - aka. The Bad Guns

A Supernatural Heist AU - Masterlist

Pairing: Hitter!Dean x Thief!Reader

Summary: The Singer & Winchester Retrieval Agency is the best group of con artists in the world. But even though Y/N can crack safes, scale buildings and infiltrate even the most secure locations, she still can't find a way to deal with her all consuming feelings for the group's greek god of a hitter; Dean Winchester. How will she handle their next big heist, when she's forced to get up close and personal with the man of her dreams?

Warnings: Idiots in love, smutty thoughts, a lot of swearing and a ton of bad jokes.

Watch the trailer here

A/N: This story is 50% jokes and 50% dirty thoughts. No deep angst, just fun and action! Inspired by the series Leverage.

Y/N = Your Name

Start Here - Next

“Do we really need Crowley for this Bobby?” Dean grumbled, leaning back in his chair and pinching the bridge of his nose. Green eyes locked on the speaker in a small pleading attempt to make the big boss change his mind. 

And his eyes weren’t the only pair to look pleadingly at the small inanimate speaker version of Bobby in the middle of the table, even if the big guy couldn’t see them. There wasn’t a single pleased expression around the table at the thought of him joining the operation, though Dean looked the most put off by the thought of bringing in the middle man, by far. 

Which was understandable. 

The last time you’d had to team up with Crowley, Dean had to go undercover, pretending to be one of Crowley’s goons. And the career criminal had taken full advantage of that fact. Strutting around acting like the two of them were the bestest of buds. Apparently dragging your hitter along for cocktails and karaoke in the middle of the damn job. 

Dean had, understandably, hated every second of it. And you had too. If only because, with him going undercover, it meant that he wasn’t around for you to secretly oogle during the day. 

Yeah… You were a lost cause when it came to Dean. You’d long since learned to deal with it.

“Unfortunately we do need ‘im. To get the files, we need to locate the safe. My man on the inside already told me where to find it, but we still need to get eyes on it. And luckily, there’s another Charity Fundraiser happening in two nights' time,” Bobby said, repeating words you’d already skimmed through in the case brief.

“Trouble is, this party’s clearly just a cover. Apparently, from what I’ve heard, the guest list is any FBI or CIA agent’s wet dream. Only the scum of the earth is invited. So, we need Crowley to get us in through the door,”

Ah, that sounded right up Crowley’s alley. He considered himself the king of the underworld after all. If anyone could get their grabby paws on an extra invite or two, it’d be him. 

Crowley... You didn’t know the guy’s last name. Actually you were pretty sure he didn’t have one. Like Madonna, or Beyonce… Or, hell, Castiel. Either way, he was your big bad, with a self-proclaimed bleeding heart. 

Though personally you liked to think he meant the british bleedin’ and not the idiom for being an actual caring human being. ‘Cause you doubted that was true, the caring part, as well as the human part. Actually, you doubted the whole “heart” part altogether. The bastard was a snake in a tailored suit. The type that’d sell his soul for some spare change, or most likely con someone else into selling theirs in his stead. Since you doubted he even had one to sell.

Still, he was useful. 

Especially in cases that had to do with the mob. Since he kind of was the mob, or at least some sort of side branch of it. Did mobs have side branches? Like banks? Eh, you never cared enough to ask.

The sharply dressed and infuriatingly sassy man could get you anything with a snap of his fingers. Any information or easy access to an underground party would just seemingly materialize like magic when you involved him. 

He called it acquisition. Most of the time you called it blackmail. 

Didn’t mean you wanted to work with him though. So you’d rather try to find any other way than bringing him in. Hell, you’d rather involve his scam artist of a mother than him. Rowena had done a hell of a good job pretending to be a witch back in the Las Vegas con after all. Even if she had tried to steal the personnel files you were after for herself and had nearly escalated the heist into a damned riot.

“How about we play this like Dallas?” You shot out, leafing through the pages of the manila folder looking for the magical solution to your Crowley-shaped problem. Sam’s folders always magically had all the answers, but unfortunately there was no highlighted section about your little “Crowley problem”, which left only one possible solution… Dallas. 

The Dallas case had let you bypass bringing in a middle man. Instead Dean had been able to pose as one. Through a carefully crafted identity featuring a ranch owner turned drug lord whose name, and only name, was already known in all the wrong circles. It wasn’t a perfect fit, but you could probably make it work for this case too, with the right faceless identity. Even if it wouldn’t involve Dean dressed like a cowboy again. 

Damn it, you really missed the Dallas case.

“Don��t we have any identities that can work for us?” You added when Dean straightened in his seat next to you, looking absolutely giddy at the thought of not having to team up with Crowley again. Forest eyes shining brightly as he threw you a boyish grin for the quick thinking. Though the same smile easily fell when Bobby spoke up over the phone.

“No can do (Y/N). In Dallas we had an easy in, as far as fake identities go. These guys don’t trust easily. We need a face, not just a name,” 

You could almost hear how much the big boss hated turning down a plan that didn’t involve a middle man. Bobby didn’t like Crowley any more than you did, and the more people were involved in a heist, the easier it was for something to go wrong. But you clearly needed an extra pair of hands for this once. 

Fuck. Screw that and the horse it rode in on. 

You really didn’t want to work with Crowley. That man always meant trouble. And you knew he’d stab you in the back the first chance he got. Still, it seemed there was no way around it. You needed him for Bobby’s plan to work. Sure, you could infiltrate Mafia Central with the right tools and blueprints. But without eyes on the safe to confirm where it was, it was risky. 

Especially since you needed to get the money, the drive and know which personnel to send the cops after at the same time. So, an early look at the safe, and some easy pickpocketing of some credit- and ID cards at the party, was your best bet for laying the groundwork. That way you could come back on any other day and crack the safe while Charlie handled the accounts and Bobby leaked their names and whereabouts.

So, though none of you actually wanted to work with him you had to. Damn it. 

You really missed Dallas. 

---

After just a tiny bit more grumbling, Dean had given Crowley a quick call. Since the devil of a man seemed inexplicably drawn to him. Probably because Dean’s mercenary background made him a perfect pawn for Crowley’s constant attempts at subduing the underworld. 

Taking care not to clue him in on anything big, he’d been promised a nice finder’s fee for helping out. Before Dean had hung up as quickly as humanly possible. 

Yet another reason you hated working with the Scottish born mobster. It always meant there’d be less money for the rest of you, the charities and any victims. Since Crowley did nothing for free. Everything was a deal when it involved him. One littered with infuriating riddles; offering little up front unless you paid him well enough. 

Sure, you were paid a pretty penny from the heists as well, even if you did some heists fully pro-bono. But he tended to take things to another level. If it had been physically possible, he would’ve probably asked you for your soul as payment. Though you doubted yours was even worth a Happy Meal after all your illegal dealings throughout the years.

You’d shuddered as you heard him across the speaker phone, grimacing at the phone like the totally grown up adult you were. But, with the right number of zeroes offered, he had easily agreed, even though you hadn’t given him much to go on. Past telling him you needed entry into a little shindig. He’d get the rest of the info face to face, where you could spot any tell that would let you know if he was scheming something. 

Who were you kidding? Crowley was always scheming something. Damn him and his damned schemes, deals and perfect suits. And his sass. He was snarkier than you, and you didn’t like it when you weren’t the snarkiest person in the room.

In short… You really didn’t like him. 

Which was why you were busy trying convincing Dean to help you rig a bomb to Crowley’s chair while you waited for him to arrive. After all, he was a bad guy, and you dealt with bad guys. Just, not usually in the ‘transactional’ sense. Which in this case, was exactly what was about to happen. 

“Just one little bomb?” Leaning against the war room table, you threw the gorgeous man a small conspiratory smile as you nodded towards the chair. Eyes bright as you sipped on your second cup of coffee that morning, since you needed more caffeine if you had to deal with that level of sass before noon. 

“Pretty please?” 

Batting your lashes at him didn’t seem to be working however. As the charming bastard only laughed at your suggestion, which, as always, did dirty things to your mind and body. The butterflies in your stomach doing somersaults as you were rewarded with a bright smile that made his forest green eyes crinkle. 

“I don’t think Bobby would take too kindly to you blowing up our base of operation just to teach Crowley a lesson (Y/N),” He chuckled, his deep voice traveling the length of your spine and nearly turning you into a puddle. All deep, spicy and smooth like whiskey. 

“I said one little bomb. Like a firecracker on speed. It’d sting like a son of a bitch, but it probably wouldn’t kill him,” You pouted, which only teased another loud laugh out of Dean as he leaned against the table next to you giving your shoulder a friendly nudge before he refocused on the case. His small smile was still in place as he opened Sam’s folder to read through the information once more.

Leaving you scowling into your cup of coffee and wishing you could replace it with something stronger, as your group of vigilante con artists were forced to make a deal with the devil.

---

With the right finder fee, big bad tended to move fast when summoned. 

So, there Crowley was, just a few hours later. A cup of coffee in his hand and lounging in a bomb-free chair like it was a throne. Like he owned your bunker. 

Ok, so maybe it wasn’t exactly your bunker, but it was the closest thing you’d ever had to a home. And you definitely had more claim to it than the ‘Snarky Scotsman™’ lounging infuriatingly across from you. 

You didn’t know how someone could lounge “infuriatingly”, but Crowley somehow managed to pull it off. Or maybe it was the lack of fireworks when he sat down, paired with his cocky smirk, that infuriated you. Either way, you were thoroughly vexed, and it hadn’t even been an hour.

You’d already caught him up on the details he needed to know for his role in the plan. And only what he needed to know. All in bullet pointed format with just the bare necessities of information. 

He didn’t even get a folder. Which had to mean Sammy really didn’t like him, even though you had to work the case together. 

“I might need some extra… Incentive, if you want me to help with this case,” Crowley drawled, one eyebrow lifted and his index and thumb rubbing together in the international gesture for ‘pay up or shut up’.

“These boys don’t play around after all,”

“So they’re bad guys, big deal… We handle bad guys all the time,” You whined, stretching your legs to allow yourself some movement and stop from going stir crazy in your chair. Your conversation with Crowley had already lasted long enough, and you just wanted the heist to get started. 

The bastards were bad, you stopped bad guys. When guys like Crowley got in the way it tended to make you a tiny bit antsy. 

“Bad? These guys are beyond bad pet…” He chuckled, a lazy smile thrown your way. You hated it when he used pet names for you instead of your actual name. That one wasn’t actually due to disliking the Scotsman; you just straight up hated nicknames and pet names. Always had, since your days acting like the organization’s thieving puppy… 

Your handler had been big on pet names. So they disgusted you. Unless of course they came from Dean. If they came from him they just made you all tingly like a teenager on a hormone high. 

“They’re ice cold, practically soulless… Demons,” Crowley added when you didn’t respond straight away. His voice dropped an octave as he winked at you from where he was lounging. Smirking as he pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, not even trying to hide how he was eyeing you up from across the table.

“If they’re demons you must be the devil,” You muttered, knowing your comeback was already late. 

You just couldn’t deal with Crowley. He enjoyed messing with you, and as much as you grumbled and groaned whenever you were forced to work with him, it wasn’t like you could actually act on it and knock him out. Bobby would not like you knocking out his contacts. And truth be told, a life in the shadows meant your comeback skills could use some work when dealing with flirtatious men like him.

You’d had to flirt on cases before, and even had a few boyfriends from time to time. But that was all work. The boyfriends were covers, and the flirting was a scam. When someone actually tried to hit on you, then you had no clue what to do.

The fact that you never knew how to bite back to Crowley’s slight flirtation probably made you an easy target too. Though you tried to stay in constant motion not to get hit. You’d never been good at dealing with his type, or flirty comments. You attributed it to being too kind to outright reject people, though somehow not too kind to punch ‘em in the face if they deserved it. 

Kindness wasn’t really a great trait for a world renowned thief of all things shiny and expensive. If there was such a thing as a thief job interview, you’d definitely put that on top of your “greatest weaknesses” list. Was there such a thing as thief job interviews? You hadn’t really looked at craigslist for work since… Ever. 

Focus. 

Damn it, your hyperactive brain just wanted to be anywhere else other than near the damned crime lord. Running off into imagined rambles as you rolled your eyes, in part at his flirting and in part at your own shitty comeback.

“Harsh love,” Crowley grinned back over his coffee cup. 

Next to you, Dean’s body was tense, green eyes dark and unwavering where they focused on Crowley, though under the table, his hand was brushing against yours as he clenched it into a white knuckled fist. Barely managing to keep his other palm still and flat on the table with nothing but a slight tremble betraying how he seemed ready to reach for one of his many weapons at a moment’s notice. 

He never liked dealing with Crowley, and he liked it even less when the man focused his attention on anyone in your little high tech scooby team. 

After all, Dean saw you all as family. And you personally thought you did a very good job at pretending that being treated like a sister by your crush didn’t sting like a son of a bitch. A fucking Oscar worthy performance if there ever was one.

“I’d say I’m more the devil’s right hand man if anything,” Crowley drawled on, ignoring Dean’s angry look as he kept his eyes on you. Somehow keeping his back straight even when faced with the angry eyes and clenched jaw of a man who could kill him in more ways than you could even dream to count.

“So, are you going to help us or waste our time?” Dean shot back. His voice low and deep like thunder as his lips curled around the words. Swallowing down more angry words, he reached for the gun in his shoulder holster instead. Your hitter always had a weapon, or three, on him. And hell, even if he didn’t, he was basically a walking, talking weapon with a black belt in… Pretty much everything, as far as you knew. 

Damn it, Dean was dangerous, sure. But those slightly narrowed dark eyes, that clenched jaw with a dusting of stubble and the way his muscles tensed and relaxed like flowing water under his tight black t-shirt was absolutely lethal. Your poor heart could barely keep up. The man was really a weapon..

In more ways than one.

“Ok, sure… You need an in to their next Charity fundraiser hoax to catch these guys right?” Crowley asked, clearly sensing that he’d pushed the joke too far. Yet, he still kept lounging in the chair, shooting you a small smirk, as if you were in on some joke together. 

After all… He knew you needed him to pull off the heist; which meant he was a little too relaxed in the knowledge that Dean couldn’t kill him. Or even punch his lights out. At least not until after the party.

“I can get you in and provide you with a cover as my guests, but max four of you. One of you will have to stay behind,”

“I’ll handle things from the outside, keep everything running smoothly,” Sam agreed before anyone else could offer. Which of course made Charlie turn a shade paler, if possible. She really was a cute little scaredy cat when it came to the field work portion of the job description.

“But, as I said… There’s the small issue of my fee,” 

Once more Crowley seemed intent on playing the Prince John to your Robin of Locksley. Sometimes you wished the damned guy was an actual demon instead of just a greedy person. 

Dean would’ve probably let you blow up a demon. 

“You’ll get your money. Just get us in and point us in the direction of the Al Capone rip-offs, we’ll do the rest,” Dean said as his green eyes left Crowley. Shifting his focus to the blueprints of the party venue that Charlie had gotten you earlier while you waited for big bad to show. Tapping a calloused finger against them as he wet his lips.

“Get the big honcho to agree to meet us and there might even be a bonus in it for ya,” He continued. Speaking more to the plans in front of him than to the crime boss across the table from you. Though, if Crowley found the lack of eye contact offensive, he didn’t let it show as he smiled one of those trademark cocky smiles of his.

“Ladies, Gentlemen… You have yourself a deal,” 

Leaning back in his chair, Crowley shot you another smirk as his hand slipped into the pocket of his expensive tailored suit with a touch of unnecessary flair. Before quickly reappearing with an invite to the event. 

Damn it, the man really did always know what you needed. 

“And of course… Better yet, a date with yours truly,” He added, unnecessarily in your mind, with a small wink in your direction that escaped Dean’s notice from where he was pouring over the blueprints.

So, your heist was finally going somewhere… 

Next point on the agenda; prepping for the Charity party. 

You needed to pick a dress that was easy enough to move in and possibly cut through laser systems in, without setting them off. Memorize your cover, just in case someone deemed you worthy of small talk. And calm down Charlie enough to help her get ready to infiltrate a den full of bloodsucking politicians and mobsters. 

Which meant you had your work cut out for you. 

Fun.

---

Start Here - Next

Charity Heist: @foxyjwls007 @seppys-return-to-madness @stoneyggirl2 @ladysparkles78 @twinkleinadiamondsky @tmb510 

Dean Winchester Tags: @ria132love @woodworthti666 @defenderrosetyler  @akshi8278 @justanotherwinchester @lyarr24 @torn-and-frayed @all-will-be-well-love @wearesuchstuff1 @thefridgeismybestie @adoptdontshoppets @starsandmidnightblue @screechingartisancashbailiff @septixtrash @punof-agun  @deandreamernp @justagirlinafandomworld @sexyvixen7 @justrealizedimmascifygurl @globetrotter28 @siospins2 @iprobablyshipit91 @mrsjenniferwinchester @leigh70

Forever tags will be added as reblogs

[incarnateirony]

At the end Donnie Darko realizes that by avoiding death at the beginning of the film, he created a separate and unstable branch of time, and in order to save Gretchen, and his mom and little sister, he has to accept his death & time travel back to that night and let himself die to correct the timeline. Is TW a separate branch caused by Dean, and Dean has to accept his death to correct it, so s1 ends with a rewind and John and Mary meeting again?

Um close but different. It's that It Was Always A Different Branch. He's not Making A New Timeline. Dean already broke the timeline before he was ever born.

Like, even Original Supernatural, in this context, means that The Timeline We Know Was Already Influenced By Dean.

This isn't a new idea. After all, we have to go back to the beginning, like Dean said. In The Beginning, the same point of buying a certain car even Chuck said was the beginning and end of it all. But it's not about the car, it's about the road it takes them on.

This resonance becomes even deeper than In The Beginning in the new framework.

Just as Jack went cosmogenic and exploded before and beyond spacetime to make it loud; just as Rowena went cosmic unbirthing hell; Cas, and heaven essentially, as will be explained to those that lost the original Occultum threads, but essentially mirror Rowena, hence Queen Bee--pop star diva alias, we all know his favorite.

It's Dean's turn as Cosmic Humanity(TM). The Deanmanity that Chuck looked at in season 11 talking, implicitly, about souls. Something greater than his pride or Ego that was there waiting to be born, that just is, like he and amara just were; that he feared as equals, like Amara, and set up systems of control and self extermination since he couldn't do it himself.

That Humanity.

That Humanity lost its face, its identity, knows who it's not, but not who it is. And at The 70s Spacetime, Humanity Itself is becoming an angry spirit and rattling time while it's stuck in its own cage. John and Mary save The Whole World. Dean Winchester.

Cas cared about the Whole World because of him. John and Mary, despite the future it gives her, choose the path they choose, together, because they ran their own race, they made their own rules, and mostly, they do okay with that.

And Humanity chooses this life, rather than to seal itself away or fade into oblivion or let Some Other Person Named Dean In Some Other World do it. This is Dean. Dean IS the One but he's also finding The One. Because this is a romance.

So it's not that we're watching an alternate reality. It's the same reality. It's always been this, because Dean Always Chose This, even if in mortal life he didn't understand why. Why Humanity chose to be born here. to NOT be the S13-14 burnt out AU they were never born in. Even if he could have lived coffeeshop What Is And Should Never Be, even if he could have been a Richester. To fight these hard fights. But it's not just about what and how they fought, who they lost or how they died.

It's about how they lived. Who they loved. What they learned, and what they chose. John, Mary, Dean, whoever. They already made their choices. Dean's just here to understand, and accept, why he made those choices, to understand Who I Am.

Would you do it over again? from different worlds. Or with all the pain. Would you do it over again, Ada? I followed my heart. I don't think that's ever a mistake. The day your dad left, neither of us stopped to say. I am never letting you walk out that door again, without telling you, that I love you. Me too. What's wrong with you? I don't--I can't--then SPEAK. I-- I--

[thebreakfastgenie]

80s Business AU

80s business AU started as a joke based on the IBM commercials, but at some point I got really invested. There are three sort of branches of continuity in my head, the gen one, the Hawkeye/Charles one, and the Hawkeye/Margaret one. I'm focusing on the houlihawk one right now in my daydreams, but the main events I'll talk about apply to all of them.

They all work at MASH Corp which I think manufactures medical supplies. It's set in vaguely New York, because that's the most 80s business city of all.

Also I want to put a huge caveat that I didn't want to ignore the AIDS crisis, but I also didn't feel like I could handle it sensitively in such a crack AU, so the solution I'm going with for now is that everyone is using all the condoms all the time.

With the exception of Henry, all characters appear at the same time, with BJ and Charles joining the office without anyone leaving.

Dramatis personae:

Henry Blake: The manager of their department who was trying to get transferred to another city that his wife wanted to move to. His transfer is finally approved, but on his way back from his final business trip before the transfer, he is killed in a plane crash.

Hawkeye Pierce: Mid level employee. Extremely competent, but kind of a mess personally.

Trapper John McIntyre: Hawkeye's colleague and best friend.

BJ Hunnicutt: Colleague of Hawkeye and Trapper and their third amigo. Recently transferred in from San Francisco.

Margaret Houlihan: the only woman in the office besides the secretaries and never lets anyone forget it. Serves in the same role as Frank and Charles, but is paid less, something she is constantly agitating about.

Frank Burns: serves in a slightly more senior role than Hawkeye, Trapper, and BJ. Frank's constant brown-nosing has yet to pay off.

Charles Emerson Winchester III: the son of a board member, Charles was transferred laterally after insulting his boss at his previous branch, but he sees it as a demotion. Serves in the same role as Frank and Margaret. Charles, to his credit, worked his way up to his previous position from the mail room. Becomes friends with Hawkeye.

Francis Mulcahy: a seminary school dropout in a junior position. Generally friendly to everybody.

Max Klinger: an enterprising young man in a junior role, friendly with everybody but especially Hawkeye.

Radar O'Reilly: a junior employee who works with technology, he's the best at his job despite less formal education.

Sherman Potter: the new manager, transferred from St. Louis after Henry's death. Affable and likes to socialize with his employees, but ultimately a company man.

Kehlani "Kellye" Yamoto: one of the most senior secretaries, responsible for starting the company's first union.

Sidney Freedman: Hawkeye's therapist. Hawkeye is bad at keeping appointments, but likes Sidney and invites him to socialize, which he does in order to keep an eye on Hawkeye, and because he likes him.

Some points:

Originally I had Henry on PanAm 103, but I recently learned a Korean Air passenger plane was shot down a few years earlier, after accidentally flying into the wrong airspace, so I'm considering changing it.

Hawkeye and Trapper sneak off to day drink in the boiler room, nicknamed the swamp due to its humidity. BJ drinks with them too, but only after business hours. Over time, Hawkeye's day drinking becomes less controlled.

Margaret carries on an affair with Frank, until she meets Donald Penobscott, an executive at a company they work with. Margaret and Donald have a very expensive wedding with all the 80s cliches, and divorce within a year. Donald has affairs, which is serious because he doesn't use protection with Margaret and she doesn't know what she might have been exposed to. Her tests come up clear, but she finds out she's pregnant. Hawkeye drives her to the abortion clinic.

While Margaret is married to Donald, Hawkeye and Margaret get trapped together on a business trip during a hurricane and end up sharing the last room at the airport hotel. They sleep together during this trip. Later, after Margaret's divorce, they're known for making out at office parties.

BJ was transferred unexpectedly, and is unhappy about having to uproot Peg and Erin, because Peg is now isolated in a new city without a support system. After he befriends Trapper, Louise makes friends with Peg and helps her meet people. BJ and Trapper begin spending more time together, especially while Hawkeye is spending a lot of time with Charles.

Charles begins abusing stimulants in order to boost his performance at work, eventually becoming addicted to cocaine. Hawkeye starts doing drugs with him, though he's self-medicating underlying mental health issues, not trying to improve his career. Hawkeye becomes somewhat distance from Trapper and BJ at this point. Charles and Hawkeye do drugs in the bathroom during Margaret's wedding reception, and Charles ODs. Hawkeye, very high himself, has to call an ambulance, and it ruins Margaret's reception.

Charles goes to rich people rehab after his OD, and returns to work sober. Hawkeye is still using, so they stop being close, until Hawkeye finally gets clean himself a few months later, and starts taking therapy with Sidney more seriously.

At some point during his mental health recovery arc, Hawkeye visits Henry's family in Illinois, where Henry had been planning to move to before he died.

Kellye organizes a strike for the secretarial staff, and Trapper refuses to cross the picket line.

BJ loves Garfield. He has a Garfield daily calendar and his workspace is covered in his favorite Garfield cartoons. He wears a Garfield tie every Friday. BJ is not as easy to get a Secret Santa gift for as you would think, because if you buy him a Garfield he already has he'll be devastated that you didn't remember when he described it to you in detail. He always buys everyone Garfield-themed gifts for holidays and he's assigned everyone their own character. No one understands his reasoning behind who was given each character, but Hawkeye is Odie because Odie has the most merchandise available after Garfield himself.

[empressgeekt]

Supernatural/Trolls Crossover - Branch Winchester AU (Part 2 - Custody Battle)

Okay, for anyone new here, please go read part one. It's tagged "Branch Winchester AU". But the long and short of it is that Branch gets sent to the Supernatural world, as a kid and is raised with the Winchester family.

Let's jump back to the otherside of the portal real quick, John Dory would get the letter for Floyd as normal, and he would look for Branch first. Figures it will be easy with the pop trolls out of hiding, but once he meets with Queen Poppy, she claims their isn't a troll by the name of Bitty B or Branch in the village. And she knows everyone. With limited time, John Dory has to look for the other brothers. Poppy goes with him wanting to help. Bruce is easy to find, and Poppy comes up with using the funderdrawers to find Clay after the subject of "Why didn't they stay in touch with Bloodhound beetles, they could track you with smell?" comes up in conversation. The Puttputt course gives John Dory new hope, maybe Branch had been here with Clay. He wasn't, sadly, and by that point their out of time to look for the youngest brother, otherwise Floyd wouldn't make it.

It takes a lot of fighting and tears, but somehow the three brothers come together to save Floyd. The First words out of the second eldest's mouth being, "Where's Branch?"

Pop village is their first stop. Floyd needs to see a doctor, and Poppy really needs to talk to her Dad about Viva. In the end Floyd would recover with some discoloration issues and mental scars. The topic of Branch once more comes up and to the bros horror, none of them have heard from Branch for twenty years. Clay mentions that not everyone made it out of the tunnels, but John Dory shuts that down, no one is even mad at him for it, and then vows to find their baby brother if it kills him. Floyd wants to come with him, once he's okay enough to travel. Bruce can't do much with kids of his own, but he'd liked to have updates on the search, and they could use Vacay Island as a home base anytime. Clay doesn't know what he wants to do...Poppy, Viva and surprisingly Peppy join them. Then everything changes.

Peppy would step in and begin to explain, that while they lived in the tree, only a month before they escaped, That their grandmother was harvested by the Chef, but Branch...went missing. This sparks outrage and grief amongst the family. Bruce starts asking questions, Like did they even search for Branch or just assumed he was taken too? Peppy claims they did search, but all they found was a single letter in the old Pod...and that no one could open it. Peppy gives the letter to John Dory before leaving.

They wait a few hours before opening it. Grief over their grandmother needed to be felt, and the letter was terrifying in a way. At first it looked unassuming, just a plain manilla envelope, until you turned it over and written on the front in red was, "Only for the eyes of Shared Blood" Floyd eventually just tells, John Dory to stop putting it off and open it.

When opened the letter reads like this....

" To the blood of the fetched,

You have been judged unworthy of the gift you were given. As such you are marked with the loss that you inflicted on the blood you rejected. If you wish for redemption, repair the cracks on a new foundation, reconnect the severed ties...."

John Dory: then there's just a bunch of gibberish.

Clay: Give me that...This is not fancy talk, is basically, we cuts in our family, and there fore whoever wrote this, judged us unworthy of Branch. So...they took him.

Floyd: Who would take our Baby Brother?!

Clay: I-I don't know...but they say they we can get him back at least. We just have Wish for Redemption, repair the cracks in some foundation, and what ever third thing is...

John Dory: Wish for redemption, I guess that means we need to want him back.

Bruce: What about the cracks

Floyd: It's us...we left. We broke our family part and now we need to put it back together if we ever want Branch back.

Que a bunch of apologizes explanations and settling differences.

Viva chiming in from braiding Clay's hair: And the third part?

Clay: I-...I don't even know what language this is...or if it's some sort of code.

Poppy: Maybe just read it?

Clay: OKay...Suscipe nos in terram animae Fratris tui

The letter flashes and they are not in Pop village anymore. The bros, plus Poppy and Viva, are flashed into woods of small trees on the outskirts of a small town. Their panicking having suddenly swapped species from trolls to something else. Eventually the group gets their barrings, deciding to look for Branch in the nearby town. If there was one upside to having a species swap at least they blend in with the rest of the town. John Dory and Poppy would eventually approach a shop owner asking if they knew anyone by Branch.

"Yeah, I know a boy by that name, poor kid's dad must have been drunk when he was born to end up with a name like that, don't know if he's in town at the moment."

"Any idea where he could be?"

"Anywhere in the country, those boys are always on the move, but their uncle's in town, you should try him, at least you'll get a phone number."

"Uncle?"

"Bobby Singer, lives just outside of town, up on cherry road, his whole property is a junk yard, you can't miss it. I'd be careful though, the man's eccentric and has a lot of guns."

The walk to this "Uncle Bobby's" Place is tense. No one really knows how to react to the news that Branch had a family in this weird land of pale giants. Bruce and Floyd are relieved that Branch had someone to take care of him, but the other's are a little more upset with this fact.

Bobby Singer is surprised when a group of strangers shows up on his doorstep claiming to be related to his Nephew in all but Blood. Sadly he has no choice but to call the boys, after he'd run the strangers through the gauntlet of paranormal tests. Iron, salt, Holy water, silver, you name it. So, reluctantly he calls Dean up and speaks to Branch, who confirms he had bio-brother with their names. He has no idea who the girls are though. He gets the boys to come visit and a shirt for the red-head brother before he deals with the many questions the group has.

And boy do they have them, any doubt that these guys weren't trapped in the same cult that Branch was born into is whipped away once the youngest girl askes what a human is. Bobby explains to the best of his ability. The brothers mostly ask about Branch, how Bobby knew him, if the kid was alright, and where he was. Bobby answers best he could, but keeps a lot of things private for Branch's sake. It isn't until the brother with frizz hair asks about his book collection, that Bobby gets a little defensive. He's not sure how much of hunting he should involve these new comers with. So he locked down for the night, and put the kids to bed in the spare room.

Clay managed to sneak one of the books into there room, and studied it through out the night. Viva asked jokingly, if this place had good sad books, since Clay couldn't put it down. The mood shifts when Clay said it isn't a sad book its a log on something called "demons". He goes on to explain that their some kind of monsters that are dangerous to humans. The question of why Bobby had that book, isn't spoken but is loud in the room.

Branch, Dean and Sam would drive back to the junk yard. Through out the drive, Dean and Sam were peppering Branch with questions as to what exactly happened. Who exactly were his brothers? why would they be here? Could they take him back? Branch desn't have na answer to alot of the questions. but he'd say, "We used to sing together, looking back I think it was to keep the others happy for when trollistice came around. The bergens wanted us happy. Made us taste better."

D: You singing? Like those Weirdo Boybands with their cheap sounding music.

B: Exactly like that.

S: It's not that bad, I kind of like NSYNC

D: What is the matter with you?

B: Good luck getting me back on stage

S: I'm not saying that you should go back to it, I have issues with this whole child labor for amusement in a cult thing, there's multiple laws being broken there. But it's not something to be ashamed about...right?

B: If it's not something to be ashamed about, then why did sound so unsure just now?

Once at the junk yard, Branch would ignore his brothers in favor of marching into Bobby's place, and demanded to talk with his Uncle. Dean and Sam Follow him, leaving the dimension hoppers outside. Bobby confirms they're legit, not shapeshifters, not Demons, not even ghouls and he could tell based on how freaked out they were when he suggested that they should cook up his arm for dinner. Dean wants to know if this means they have more cult escapees to de-brainwash. But Bobby shockingly chimns in that's he's not so sure. Ever since Brozone dropped in He'd been looking a little deeper into Troll and Fairy lore, finding that a lot of what Branch said as a kid and what these adults are saying now is matching up with his findings.

Branch: Okay wait, are you saying that everything I believed as a kid, wasn't just my broken scared out of my ass mind making sense of everything, but instead was actually real. The tiny people living in a tree being eaten once a year was real?

Bobby: It's got a lot more evidence behind it then the cult theory, which son was always just an assumption made by your dad due to a lack of proof. Truth is we didn't know where you came from.

D: This is nuts.

S: And coming from us that's saying something.

Branch: Oh this is nuts to you?! My entire life just turned upside down. Oh god if it was all fucking real...Then they really did abandon me...

D: Well then they don't get to come back.

S: Dean you can't say that.

D: Why the hell not? They left Branch in the dust. Practically threw him to the wolves.

S: Cause I left too..

Branch: Sam stop, the situation is completely different.

D: Yeah, Branch is right, you left for college, and even then you didn't abandon a two year old in a fucking warzone, where folks were getting eaten! Not to mention Branch still had me and Dad, not just an elderly Grandmother who have gone any second!

Branch: And you apologized. I've forgiven you....now while these tow idiots plot their vengeance on my behalf, how do we send them back to what ever realm they came from?

Bobby: That's uh the one thing I haven't figured out yet. I still have a lot of material to go through, I also have a few people I could ask...

D: Dad might know something, he used to research trolls and fairies since you were a kid. Maybe he thought it was more then just a cult thing

S: Of course it all comes back to finding him

Branch: So, what now?

Bobby: You boys stay here for a few days, stock up, help these guys adjust to being human, cause one literally ask me why he needed a shirt, and try not not to kill each other.

Branch: No promises.

Things in the Junkyard are tense after that. Brozone tries to get Branch to talk to them desperately, but he just ignores them. Clay Bruce and John Dory try a more direct approach confronting Branch, talking to him, telling him about their lives back in the troll realm. This leads to more conflict with Sam and Dean, as they keep telling the older three brothers to back off. And it really stings when the Winchesters introduce themselves as Branch's brothers. That sting begins to burn as they watch Branch joke around with his adopted siblings, fixing up the Impala with Dean, and going over omens with Sam and Bobby.

Viva and Poppy are the only ones who can talk to the Winchesters Branch included. The girls are pleasant enough and they aren't connected to the family drama. Viva and Dean actually get along well, when she asks him to teach her to shoot (Much to Clay's disagreements). And Poppy is determined to become friends with Branch, which leads to some playful teasing from Sam and Dean about him finally getting a girlfriend.

Floyd's getting hit the hardest. This was his baby brother, he used to be his best friend and now Branch wouldn't even look at him. Floyd's the one who asks if Branch sings, and tries to encourage Branch to sing with him. Sadly he chooses "Total Eclipse of the Heart" Because it was his lullaby that he sang to Branch. Real bad choice to make when said baby brother was preparing for a round of target practice. Branch Shoots at Floyd, luckily it was only Rock salt not bullets and Branch makes sure that Floyd knows that in the end it wouldn't matter what was in the gun, he'd still shoot.

After this Branch goes to Bobby begging for a case, and Brozone is left to regroup.

John Dory: I don't know what where doing wrong?! I thought he'd happy to see us again, especially after living twenty years in this music-less place.

Floyd: he doesn't want anything to do with music anymore John, he's made that clear.

Clay: What are we missing? He can't hate music, he has to sing some time. All trolls sing.

Poppy: Well, what if he isn't?

Bruce: What?

Poppy: Maybe, I know it's a little crazy, but maybe Branch doesn't see himself as a troll anymore?

Viva: Poppy might be right. Branch was raised human. He probably sees himself like that, the few trollings hatched in the PuttPutt course see themselves as Puttputt, not pop.

John Dory: Look ladies, its a good theory, but Branch is a troll. He's our brother we know him.

Poppy: Do you? You haven't had a full conversation with him in a week. And you won't have another chance, for maybe a few more.

Floyd: What do you mean by that?

Viva: Their going out on another work trip, Branch Sam and Dean.

Clay: How do you know that?

Bobby *standing in the door way, intruding*: Because they talk to him about what's he's doing now. Not trying to bring back past events that Branch doesn't want to dig up.

John Dory: Were you evesdropping on us?

Bobby: The walls are thin here. And you better be dang grateful that my nephews are outside right now, otherwise they'd really let you have it and I'd let them. You're not doing anyone any favor by bring up old wounds, especially pink bangs over there. "Total Eclipse of the Heart"? The hell were you thinking, every time that damn song cam on the radio Branch would have a full blown panic attack as a kid. Look I get you all are stuck here until we send you home, but that does not give you the right to drive my boys up the walls.

Floyd: I didn't know

Bobby: Well yah might have if you just shut your mouths and started listening. Boy's been given yah signals to back off all week. Your lucky, I managed to scramble a fun hunt for them, not everyday you get a crack at the Hookman. *Leaves room*

Clay: Listen? We've been listening...have we?

Floyd: Guys what do we actually know about Branch?

John Dory: well he loves to sing, always the first the hug, loves Fluffleberry cake...

Bruce: But that's Bitty B, not Branch...Oh Madonna, we don't know anything about him...

John Dory: Not for long.

Floyd: JOhn?

John Dory: Viva you've been talk to these guys right?

Viva: Yeah?

John Dory: What do you bring to a Hookman hunt...and what's a hookman?

___-

THere will be a part three.

[chasing-chimeras]

"Get To Know Me” Tag Game! Tagged by @thiamsxbitch and @waterloou

Fave Ships: Thiam, Berica, Scira, Allydia (i wasn’t sold, but then i watched a few tiktoks and now i’m like oh yeah, lydia’s a lesbian, but i also can see her w stiles), and Trayden thanks to inglorious roommates

Not TW: Clexa (clarke/lexa from the 100), Nabrielise (nathan/gabriel/annalise from half bad), Kiribaku (kirishima/bakugo from MHA), probably a few others but these are the only three that come to mind

First ship: Briam (leave me alone i was literally a teenager and brett was tall 🙈🙈🙈)

Last song: affection by cigarettes after sex

Currently reading: Tevinter Nights, but also....

Regression to the Mean by @theoceanismyinkwell

Inglorious Roommates by @honeyscapes

“I Left Because You Never Asked Me To Stay” by @ksbbb

The Ten Branches by @dinkelmehl

Broken Parts and The Ring by @waterloou

i’ve also got a list of fics to start once i finish some of these, but i’m the world’s slowest reader.....

Last movie: i genuinely can’t remember lol

Currently Watching: teen wolf (again x300), warrior nun, and dragon age absolution (for the second time)

Consuming: a lot of energy drinks bc final papers are due in less than a week 💀

Currently Craving: kaleb’s half bad au and a viable career path outside of academia 😀

Currently Working On: final edits on chapter 13 of green zone, edits on chapters 20-28 of blue runt as well as chapter 29, moving from the planning stage to a rough rough draft on red flags (college au)

 Tagging: @theoceanismyinkwell @dinkelmehl @ksbbb @dunbarsmunson @sydney-winchester @dunbarogers @sequinedmonkey @attempted--eloquence @sterekshipper-writer @salshuman @himbo-aficionado @metagalacticx @yikeshereiam and @unspokenstydia

[musecaravan-info]

Gabriel

"Now I'm not looking for absolution / Forgiveness for the things I do / But before you come to any conclusions / Try walking in my shoes" ~ Depeche Mode ~

Basic Information

FACE/BODY CLAIM: Richard Speight, Jr.

AGE: Older than dirt. Literally.

EYES: Hazel

HAIR: Sandy brown; usually worn long and a bit shaggy

HEIGHT: 5'8

PRIMARY OUTFIT: Depends on the verse, but usually snarky t-shirts, jeans, and comfy sneakers for his main.

Personality

Gabriel is always quick with a joke and a laugh. He likes to see people happy and smiling, and likes it even more when he's the one who made it happen. In his main verse he usually comes off as carefree - at least on the surface. But let's be real, just because he doesn't remember his old life or the time spent in Purgatory doesn't mean the sensations of it don't bog him down sometimes. He just doesn't understand why. Regardless, he always does his best to hide it. No reason to push his personal burdens on to others, especially if it might hurt them.

Powers & Weaknesses

This will depend a lot on the verse we use. In Gabe's main verse his powers are a mere flicker of what they used to be. And he doesn't know he has them, so they're not really controllable most of the time.

In a regular Supernatural verse, Gabe's got all of the expected powers an archangel might.

Romance

Also verse-dependent. In his main verse Gabe has societal inhibitions because he thinks he's human. Mostly. So he goes about things the way most humans might. He teases and jokes, but there's not a lot of outright flirting unless interest is expressed.

In any verse where he knows who he is, the flirting will happen more readily and without as much of a filter. He'll generally stop if he perceives he's making someone truly uncomfortable, but if it's just annoying them (and he wants to annoy them) he'll probably just keep at it for kicks.

In just about any verse, Gabe won't turn down a proposition for sex or anything along those lines. He likes to have fun and if your muse is showing interest and he's interested, too, stuff will probably happen.

Where to Find Him

Verse dependent, but in his main verse here are a few ideas:

The bakery where he works

Improv/comedy clubs

Random church

Trivia night at a local bar

Verses

Just because a verse isn't listed here doesn't mean I'm not interested in writing it. I adore all kinds of AUs, and welcome the chance to get creative with my muses. If you've seen a verse that another of my muses has, and you'd like to see this muse in something similar, let me know. You can also check out my 'Plot Ideas' tag, too. ^_^

(Please see my notes down below in the 'Stuff That's Good to Know' section regarding Gabe's appearances in the show after S10.)

Main Verse:

This is the verse described in THIS POST. It's the default verse for all interactions. By ‘default’ I mean that this is where I’m going to assume things are happening UNLESS you request another verse in advance.

'Thanks for the Memories' Verse

This is exactly like the main verse BUT Gabe has all of his memories. He just pretends not to. He’s not very good at pretending - especially when people he knows show up… but he tries.

'You Look... Familiar' Verse

This is a branch off AU of the default verse and takes place after the episode ‘Meta Fiction’ in S09. In that ep, Metatron ‘borrows’ James to pull off his little story for Cas, afterwards leaving the man with the memories of a super realistic ‘dream’…and vague stirrings of ‘everything feels more wrong than it ever has before’. In this verse James leaves his job and goes looking for answers.

Canon Verse

This is for RPs that take place between S01 and S05. Gabe is Gabe. Not much more to it than that.

Purgatory Verse

For anyone who’s interested, I’m game for RPs revolving around the time Gabe actually spent in Purgatory. Themes here would be darker…probably involving gore and torture. This was not a great time for Gabe. At all.

'Before the Winchesters' Verse

Designed for historical blogs, but open to anyone. If you’ve ever had the urge for your muse to have a run-in with an all-powerful, snarky, sugar-loving, (sometimes) asshole, here’s your chance.

Human Verse

Gabe is human and always has been. He's just a normal guy, living a normal life. He works weird hours in his best friend's bakery and while life isn't bad, there are bound to be ways to make it better.

Velvet Avenue Verse

Currently a Private Verse

Gabe is an incredibly wealthy producer/director of pornographic movies. He bills the movies from Velvet Avenue Studios as being 'just like a Hallmark movie... but with porn.' He takes good care of his actors and his crew, while living a life of creativity and leisure. Sounds like heaven... but something's still missing from his life...

Janitor Verse

Currently a Private Verse

This is basically 'Thanks for the Memories,' but Gabe is working as a janitor at an indie radio studio... all in the hopes of getting close to the station's late-night DJ.

Current/Ongoing Threads

If your thread with Gabriel isn't listed here it's probably because it's been long enough since your last reply that I thought you'd dropped it. Message me to let me know you're still interested, and I'll happily add you to the list (with no pressure for a reply.) ♡

Kelly:

Just Like the Sun (American Revolution)

Just Like a Hallmark Movie (Velvet Avenue Verse)

Paul:

I Want Candy (Janitor Verse)

Reinhardt (& The Morrigan):

Ever At Your Back (Memories Verse)

Tobias:

What Will Be (Memories!Verse)

Will:

This Snow Globe World (Human Verse)

Stuff That's Good to Know Before Starting a Thread

Gabriel is a canon character from the Supernatural universe originally created by Eric Kripke. Some of what you’ll find here is canon to the TV show, however as I develop him I will have personal headcanons that are 100% mine. They may not mesh with your idea of Gabe, and that’s fine; everyone's allowed to have their own interpretation. :) However, if you send me hate about anything you will be ignored and blocked.

This blog has a timeline that (usually) picks up shortly after Cas releases all of the Leviathans onto the world. How far after can be plotted or chosen at random, I’m not too picky. If you want to roleplay with Gabe in a particular timeline or season it’s okay to ask. Chances are I won’t say no, I’m also game for all sorts of plotting and AUs.

I am NOT fully caught up on the series - I’ve only seen through the end of Season 10, and I don’t know when I’ll get around to watching any more. TBH, I was more than a little disappointed with the first couple of episodes of Season 11, so… yeah.

I also do not have a photographic memory for the seasons I have seen, so if I make a mistake with something don’t be afraid to tell me. As long as you’re not rude about it, I promise to hear you out. ^_^

Links

Please keep in mind, this blog is an ongoing work in progress. Not all of these links may lead somewhere, but they're here because they link to potential tags for this muse.

All Things Gabriel

Headcanons

Drabbles

All Threads

Ask Replies

Meme Replies

Aesthetics

Face

Special Links

Original Blog

Gabriel's Home

Return To Full Muse List

[bleakfated]

teddy and cam when they find out they coincidentally put the crossroads under twenty minutes from the bunker the winchesters eventually call home

also thinking about an au where the amol never goes defunct and its a fancy speakeasy type secret bar for the amol to have fresh scenery. maybe a neutral rendesvous points for other branches of the mol?

[winchest09]

Lights Out - Prologue

Pairing: AU!Dean Winchester x F!Reader

Word Count: 2195

Summary: Y/N was different from the rest; living in a quaint lakehouse, on the edge of one of the most rich and prosperous towns in America. She was surrounded with the elite, the wealthy and people who never took responsibility for their actions. Money gave them everything, while in turn, it had taken something from her. In result, she kept her distance, never wanting to get involved with high society, until one fateful night changed her life…forever.

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Angst, heavy angst, storms [spoilers] death, car accident.

A/N: Thank you so so much for supporting me. It still blows my mind that people like my things and I'm sat here, all emotional as I post another new series. Here's the start of a new ride! Keep your hands inside the cart at all times, it may get a little rough ;)   I also want to say a massive thank you to my wonderful @deanwanddamons​​ for being my wonderful beta, and for kicking my ass where needed. __________________________

Get five weeks ahead on Patreon! __________________________ Lights Out Masterlist || Main Masterlist || Let me know your thoughts!

Y/N couldn’t sleep; the howling wind whistling through the minuscule cracks of the wooden frames in the single paned windows. The small clock that was sitting on the bedside table next to her was ticking quietly, the wings of the fairy acting as the hands that told the time. It was late, a little after eleven at night and the young girl snuggled further down under her covers, making herself a little cave of comfort as she tried to get warm and block out the fear that the unruly weather was bringing with it.

Her mother had told her numerous times that storms are never something to be afraid of. They are a reminder of how powerful nature can truly be and even though they can be unruly, damaging and downright dangerous, there is still beauty to be found if you look hard enough. With rain, it was the life it gave back to the earth, the pretty hypnotising sounds of each drop creating a rhythm upon whatever surface it touches. With wind, it was the force that carried a new seed, guiding it’s path until it found its home.

Still, it was hard to look for those little pieces of solace when the branches of the large oak tree were tapping against her window, causing an arrhythmic beat against the glass. She missed her own bedroom, the one that she spent the majority of her time in back home. It was filled with her teddy bears and the glow in the dark stars that her father had stuck to her ceiling. There were no wooden fingertips rasping upon the casement nor did the howls of the storm attempt to serenade her while she slept. But, thanks to her parents having a date night, this is where the seven year old must stay.

Minutes passed, and unfortunately her eyes were still bright, and her mind was very much active. Her Nanna had tucked her in, read her a story and kissed her goodnight, but it wasn’t enough for Y/N to fully escape into dreamland. So, roughly throwing her covers back, she placed one tiny foot onto the worn cream carpet and started to move towards the exit of her room. She was planning on asking her Pops to make her a warm cup of milk, maybe even a hot chocolate, but she knew that was pushing the boundaries just a little. As she moved, the young girl pulled at the sleeves of her flannel pyjamas, effectively replacing the barrier against the cold on her skin when she heard two loud knocks sound in the distance.

Yanking on the brass handle, she swung open her door and allowed her feet to carry her along the wooden hallway, the red and white carpeted runner fuzzy against her soles. Her stomach bubbled with excitement, hoping that the sound belonged to her parents and that they had arrived here early to pick her up. Yet, as she reached the cream and mahogany rails of the small balcony that looked over the front foyer, she immediately stopped, her body shrinking back behind a wall. Y/N didn’t know those people, but she recognised their uniforms from the television and from what she had been told at school.  They were police officers.

“Mr and Mrs Lewis?” An unknown male voice asked, and she couldn’t help but take a peek down at the scene below her from behind her shield.

“How can we help you officer?” That was her Grandpa, who was standing next to his wife, Nanna, with his arm loosely resting around her waist.

“Are you the parents of Mrs Y/L/N?” The other man questioned, causing the young girl to frown. That was her last name. Was he referencing her mom?

“Yes,” her grandmother replied quickly, her head nodding as she waited for what was to come next.

“There’s been an accident.” There was a slight pause, the officers looking between themselves as they decided who should speak next. It wasn’t long till the first male opened his mouth. “Your daughter and her husband were involved in a collision with a drunk driver. I’m sorry to tell you this–”

“-no,” Pops interrupted, his voice low and shaky as he held up his palm. “Don’t say it.”

There was that silence again, the one that felt like minutes when the reality was only seconds before the same policeman continued his sentence, his expression full of sorrow and sympathy. “Unfortunately they both passed away at the scene.”

“No!” Her Nanna screamed, her voice shaking the very core of the little girl that was still huddled against the wall. It was raw, filled with emotion and the sound caused tears to puddle in Y/N’s eyes.

There was now a hurricane inside of her, one as tumultuous as the storm outside. She had no idea how to react to what she had just heard; her parents were gone. Just like that. She had last hugged them a few hours previous, when they had dropped her off late afternoon with a promise of ‘see you soon’. Surely this was a mistake. They would return to pick her up in the morning, then they would go for breakfast at the bistro on the corner that made the pancakes extra fluffy, just the way her mother liked them.

With that thought in mind, Y/N straightened herself up and wiped at her eyes with the sleeves of her pyjama shirt, readying herself to creep back towards her bedroom. She wanted to settle back into her bed, to be brave and face those branches that tapped against her windows glass, to create that familiar cave of comfort to help ease her transition into dreamland. Yet, the deep voice of the older and greying officer at the front door stopped her in her tracks.

“We understand that this is a difficult and heartbreaking time, but we have to ask if you are in custody of a Miss Y/N Y/L/N?”

That made her swallow and shrink back into the wall, peeking around to continue surveying the scene below as it unfolded. She watched as her grandparents held tightly to each other, the melody of their anguish echoing in the open space.

“Yes,” Pops responded, though his voice was rougher and laced thick with emotion. “She’s asleep upstairs, we are taking care of her while…they…they were on a date.”

“What about the driver? What happened to them?” Nanna spoke through her sobs, her question causing the younger policeman to flinch.

“They’re in custody ma’am,” he replied, clearing his throat not long after to show just how uncomfortable he was delivering that news.

“They survived?!” she exclaimed, a fresh wail passing her lips. “How is that even fair?!”

“We’re very sorry,” the older officer intervened, passing over what looked to be a card before he continued. “A family liaison officer will be in contact with you tomorrow and we will keep you informed with every step of our investigation.”

“Thank you,” Pops stated, simply taking the offering between two fingers as he nodded his head.

Not having the bandwidth to mumble a goodbye, he offered a meek smile to the authorities while Nanna continued to cry into his shoulder, pushing the wide wooden door closed. Once the sound of the metal catching the latch resonated through the hall, it was as though time stood still. Neither of her grandparents moved, instead staying rooted to the spot, their arms wrapped around each other as they found comfort in the embrace.

That was the moment that Y/N knew she should try and head back to her bedroom once more, wanting to throw her blanket over her head and hope that all of this wasn’t real. She never liked to see anyone cry, let alone her own family. So, with small and careful movements, she began her journey but she misjudged her steps and her foot placed down pressure on a floorboard that creaked loudly. It caused her guardians to immediately look to the top of the stairwell to where she was currently standing, looking a little sheepish.

“Munchkin, it’s late,” her Pops muttered as he unwrapped his arms from around his wife, “you should be in bed.”

“The storm woke me up, I was going to ask for a hot chocolate,” Y/N spoke quietly, her hands wringing together in front of her as she stood on the top step, looking down at what remained of family.

“Well yo–” her grandad started, making his way towards her timidly, as though she would bolt like a scared animal if he moved too quickly.

“--I heard the policeman,” she interrupted, her tiny brow meeting in the middle as she tried to organise her thoughts.

It was then that the expression on the faces in front of her changed. The muscles relaxed as they turned to look at each other, silently communicating before her grandmother took the lead. She wiped at her cheeks, the invisible mask being painted on as she climbed the few steps it took before she could reach the little person that was waiting patiently for answers.

The older woman sat on the top of the stairs next to her granddaughter, her arm around her shoulder as she gently turned the young girl to face her. “Y/N, honey, your parents…”

Nanna trailed off, her words becoming lost in another sob as she looked to her husband for help. He too began to climb the wooden mountain towards her, his lips pursed together as he tried to keep a rein on his own emotions. It was then that Y/N realised that her parents wouldn’t return in the morning to take her for pancakes. This wasn’t a mistake or a bad dream.

“Mummy and Daddy aren’t coming back, are they?” Her question was met with a stunned silence, neither of the company in the room knowing how to respond immediately. But after a few seconds, her grandfather took the lead, crouching down as best as he could on the stairs so he could look into her eyes.

“No,” he told her softly, his hands resting loosely in front of him before he reached out to delicately take the little girl's fingers in his. “They’re-“

“--in heaven,” the little girl surmised, finishing off his sentence before she continued. “Daddy told me that’s where Great Grandma lives now. She’ll look after them, won’t she?”

“Yes, pumpkin. She will,” Nanna whispered, her words shaking due to the small cries she was desperately trying to hold back.

“But who will take care of me?” Y/N’s question was one that was filled with slight panic as she spoke it softly, looking between the two adults that were next to her.

“We will,” the older woman whispered, placing an emotion-filled kiss upon the little girl's cheek, catching a salty tear that had unknowingly fallen from her granddaughter's eye. “You’ll be staying with us now. Is that okay?”

That moment was one where Y/N felt like her world had been flipped upside down and shaking prolifically in a matter of seconds. Finally, the news was settling in, the dawn of this reality hitting her like the fresh rays of a newborn sunrise. More small beads traced paths down her skin, following those that fell before them as the small girl cried in the arms of her remaining family. Through that anguish, she nodded. There was nothing else she could do now but depend on the love and support of her grandparents, to grow up and listen to the stories they would tell her of her parents, to help her remember just how much she meant to them.

“Okay,” Pops sniffed, wiping his nose on his forearm as he stood before he held out his hands in a gesture towards his granddaughter, “let’s get you one of my famous hot chocolates hmm?”

Y/N didn’t react, she didn’t have time to before the man in front swooped her up into his arms, holding her close. Almost immediately, she snuggled into the soft cotton of his shirt, her tiny fingers entwining into the material as he carried her down the stairs and towards the kitchen. Her body shook with her upset, her mind already clinging onto the memory of the last hug she had with her father, and the way her mothers voice sounded when she said goodbye. She wished she could go back in time, to be wrapped back up in her cave of comfort in a world where her parents were still alive. Where they would come home and sneak into her room to see if she was safe, where her mom would read her a bedtime story about daring sword fights and rebellious princesses, where her dad would sing to her while playing his guitar.

Now, the howling winds, the rhythm of the rain and the wooden branches that tapped against her bedroom window, would be a welcome distraction from the pain that anchored her heart. Going forward, she knew that this weather will always be the permanent reminder of how powerful nature can be, regardless of its beauty.

——————————————– Chapter One ——————————————– A/N: Eeeeeee and so beings another new series! I hope you enjoyed the prologue, I can’t wait to share all the things to come.  Tag list is open! If you want to be step into the darkness with me, then let me know HERE :)

Tags will be separate <3

[spnbangbang]

Title: Under Heat

Author: seasidemeow

Artist: wigglebox

Primary Ship: Dean x Cas

Other Ships: past non-con Dean x Abaddon (forced mating bite, no sex, mentioned)

Length: 6878

Warnings: past non-con Dean x Abaddon (forced mating bite, no sex, mentioned) 

Tags: A/B/O Dynamics; Omega Dean Winchester / Alpha Castiel; Established Relationship; Heat Sex; Mating Cycle; Russian Mafia AU; Tattoos; Age difference; BDSM elements (Dungeon, no BDSM scenes in this fic); Knotting

Summary:

Castiel and Dean have been ruling the New York branch of the Russian Mafia for five years. Dean decides it is time to have a baby and Cas agrees. They wait for Dean’s summer heat to do… just that

Link to Fic | Link to Art