#INCLUDING leave if he wants. But Dean still chews him out like he expects nothing but yes sir in reply

[castielmacleod]

It’s beyond agonising that like. Later spn seasons would have Cas absent for a string of episodes, so the show could do some salmondean case episodes (apparently the core of the show, though my eyes glazed over through most of them). And that in and of itself is whatever, except then the writers would BLAME Cas’ absence from these intentionally Casless episodes on CAS. And so you sit through all these salmondean episodes of middling to poor quality and then the next time you see your beloved side character Castiel, well guess what. Dean is fucking pissed at him for “disappearing” and is given free rein to yell, guilt trip, and act like Cas has to ask his permission to do anything or go anywhere. Never in my life have I seen a show NARRATIVELY PUNISH a regular recurring character for the crime of being recurring. I can’t emphasise enough that Cas was for external reasons deliberately kept out of the episodes that internal characters would then blame him for not being in. It is insanity inducing.

And it’s one more thing that makes it so clear that spn SHOULD have been allowed to naturally evolve into an ensemble show, because frankly it DOESN’T make sense for Cas to just leave sometimes and there is really absolutely nothing conducive about essentially writing him off and into the show multiple times a season just so it can have its precious brothers-only episodes. And I mean Cas is only the most obvious and most heavily punished example of this, but they also did it to Crowley (literally billed as a regular same as Cas through s9-12), Mary (punished horribly for it tbh, by both the narrative and the fans), and Kevin (and he was usually off on the RUN or being held captive or something horrid like that). And the thing is!! Other characters and brothers episodes don’t even have to be mutually exclusive! How devastating would it be, really, if a salmondean centric episode happened to start with “we’re heading out to xyz, bye Cas” and end with “hey everyone, we’re back”???

I just think this show could have been vastly improved if recurring characters could have been treated as like, assets to the storytelling, and not as objects to get out of the way as quickly as possible so the focus can temporarily go back to the brothers. Lol.

[xwinchesterxlovex]

Exhale

September 24th 2001

Sam lights his last cigarette. It’s his first day of college. He can’t believe he’s even here.

He is supposed to meet up with some buddies from freshman orientation outside the chem lab. Class starts at 8:00 AM and it’s already 7:54 AM. They might be no-shows. He takes a long drag.

Sam doesn’t honestly know how people in college are supposed to behave. Unless you count the times Dean forced him to watch Animal House. If you’re going based on that, you ALWAYS skip an 8 AM, especially if it’s a Monday.

Not Sam, though. He has goals. He isn’t here on daddy’s money (laughable to even think about). He is going to quit smoking, try to make some friends, and become a lawyer. Sam is done hunting for good. He wants to make something of himself. He just wishes it didn’t mean Dean wasn’t in his life anymore.

God. He can’t even think about it. Sam knows that if he dwells, he’ll end up dropping out. All the pain of leaving, for nothing.

He lets the smoke billow from his mouth, then wipes a hand down his face, hard. Checks his watch again, 7:58 AM. He stamps out the rest of his cigarette and heads in.

-

Sam leaves his first class and pulls out his map of campus and his schedule. Next he's got freshman speech. That is definitely going to be hard. It isn't that Sam can't write a good speech. He definitely can. But, standing up there in front of everyone? His hands are sweating just thinking about it.

He rubs the back of his neck. Then he chews his nails. Cracks every knuckle. He lets out a frustrated sigh.

He pulls out his 'last' pack and lights up.

-

The next morning rolls around and Sam has the worst migraine of his existence. That includes the time Dean knocked him out cold sparring, only to later be thrown against the Impala by a ghoul. It doesn’t help that his roommate snores like an old man.

Sam had managed to cut back his smoking by half on the first day. He only had ten. Today he’ll aim for five.

He checks his schedule, then his watch. He was heading to grab some lunch at the dining hall, but he only has 18 minutes until calculus. His stomach growls.

Okay, having six won’t end the world. Sam grabs out a smoke and lights up as he walks. It’s a beautiful day, same as yesterday. It’s still weird to Sam that the only “weather” here is the occasional sprinkle. He stops outside the math building to finish his cigarette, when he notices someone is staring at him.

He ignores it. Sam isn’t a hunter anymore, there’s no reason this person could possibly be a threat. It does make him a little uncomfortable though, and his cigarette is only half gone.

The guy looks preppy. Polo shirt, khakis, the whole nine. Sam notes to himself to never, under any circumstances, dress like that guy. He might not be a hunter anymore, but no need to stray THAT far from what he knows.

Mr. Preppy saunters up to Sam as though he isn’t dressed like a little kid going to Sunday school. How cute, Sam thinks, this guy thinks he’s tough shit. Sam is ready to take this guy if he has to, but he would rather not get arrested on his second day.

“Hey man, can I get a smoke?”

“Uh, sure,” Sam hadn’t been expecting that. He pulls out his pack of Marlboros and hands one over to Mr. Preppy. He pulls out the zippo he stole from Dean and lights it.

“Thanks. I’m Brady. You?” Sam supposes he couldn’t have called him Mr. Preppy to his face, so Brady works.

“Sam. I’m Sam,” He says it around his cigarette and reaches out to shake Brady’s hand. “So, uh, are you in Calc 1 with Professor Touriev?”

“Sure am. I gotta be honest with you, Sam. Most kids who go here don’t smoke out in public. Bad for their image. They’d rather do lines at parties and stick their powdered noses up at a good cigarette,” Brady takes a long drag and closes his eyes like it’s the best thing he’s ever had.

“I’m actually trying to quit,” Sam ignores the comments about lines and powder. He doesn’t need to get mixed up in that right now. He has enough going against him.

“Oh, sure. Me too. You should try American Spirits. They’re healthier,” Sam figures he’ll have to look into that later. Maybe those could help him quit.

“We should probably head in. I think class is gonna start soon.”

They put out their cigarettes and head in, chatting about starting school and their home lives. Sam lies.

-

December 31st 2001

They’re in Brady’s dorm room getting ready and pregaming to go out when she knocks on the door. Brady lets her in and looks at Sam with a twinkle in his eye. Sam wonders what he’s up to.

“Sam, this is Jess. Jess, this is Sam. I just know we are going to be the bestest of friends,” Brady says with a big fat smile. It always amazes Sam just how outgoing Brady can be. The shots of tequila they've been taking probably don’t hurt either.

He supposes it’s a good thing since Brady is his only friend so far, but Sam really isn’t up for it. It’s bad enough that he and Brady are going out tonight.

Sam quietly gets up and offers Jess his hand, “It’s really nice to meet you Jess,” Sam hopes his smile reaches his eyes.

“You too, Sam,” Jess replies with a shy smile. Sam’s heart gives a heavy thud. Her eyes are as green as grass. It’s hard to tell around the smell of Axe body spray, but Sam smells cinnamon and whiskey on her.

Brady cuts in, clearly oblivious to the moment they’re having, “We got tequila and beer if you want something to drink.”

“No, I’m okay. I had a few shots of Fireball before I came. I’m ready to go when you guys are,” Sam is happy to hear that his senses are still sharp as ever. But, the color of Jess’s eyes and the smell of cheap whiskey make his heart hurt.

“Yeah, let’s get going. I gotta have a smoke,” Sam claims, breaking away from the group to go outside.

“Kinda seems like you took care of that already,” Jess says before he gets to the door. She must mean the weed. That was mostly Brady, Sam only had one hit.

Before Sam can respond, Brady does, “Nah, Sammy here is our resident fag enjoyer.”

Brady can be such a prick sometimes. Sam just rolls his eyes at Brady and holds up his pack of American Spirits towards Jess. He walks out without waiting.

He lights his cigarette and walks down the hall, ignoring looks from people as he passes by. Smoking inside is definitely frowned upon.

Sam chain smokes the entire way to the party.

-

11:43 PM

Sam has been sitting on the sofa, watching the people around him engage in things he only ever saw in movies, until he came to Stanford. He watches someone do an actual keg stand. Shortly thereafter, he watches a couple of blonde girls do lines of coke on the crappy coffee table.

Brady stumbles down the stairs and flops onto the couch next to him. Or rather, on half of Sam’s body.

“Dude. I’m totally gonna fuck Jess.”

“That’s nice, Brady,” Sam really isn’t in the mood to hear about his friend’s conquests. Especially not if the girl in question is Jess. Those eyes.

“Aw come on Sam, be happy for me!” Brady kisses Sam’s cheek and unsteadily stands to go back upstairs. Sam is coming to realize that he is not nearly drunk enough.

Sam gets up to get another beer and checks his watch, 11:51 PM. He hurries to the kitchen, grabs a beer from the cooler and chugs it in one go. Downs a second. Sam picks up one more, but this time, he sips it on his way out of the kitchen. His stomach feels like he’s about eight months pregnant, but he’s had worse.

He heads out to the front porch where everyone is smoking. Sam lights his 18th cigarette that day. So much for quitting.

With a beer in his hand and a cigarette between his lips, he’s transported right back to growing up with his brother, and well. John. Sam moved away from them. Yet, here he is. Same damn bad habits as his family.

As if to put the perfect bow on such a depressing line of thought, his phone starts to ring.

Sam pulls out the Nokia he bought off Brady and looks at the screen. He doesn’t have many contacts yet, so it just shows a number without a name. Sam isn’t sure if he should answer. The little screen says it’s 11:58 PM.

He clicks the answer button and puts it up to his ear.

“Hello?”

“Sammy?” Sam’s grip on his beer falters and it splatters all over his shoes.

“Dean?” He wheezes out.

“I just, uh, wanted to tell you, that I, uh… Happy New Year's, Sammy,” Dean stumbles over his words a little. He sounds miserable. Dean should never sound that way. What’s worse is that Sam knows he’s the reason.

The people around him start chanting, “Ten, nine…”

Sam is feeling the alcohol now. He needs Dean to know how much he misses him, “Dean, I’m so so sor-”

“Sam!” Jess bursts through the door behind Sam.

“Five, four…” people are still chanting as Jess grabs his face.

“Sam? I’m sorry too, okay. I miss y-” Sam thinks he hears Dean say on the phone. He can’t really hear over the fireworks now shooting overhead.

“Two, one! Happy New Year!” People all around them are yelling. Jess kisses him hard right on the lips.

Sam pulls back after a second or two, “Happy New Year’s, Jess. Please, I just need a minute.” She looks a little confused as he turns away from her.

He puts the phone back up to his ear to see if Dean is still there.

Nothing.

[holylulusworld]

The red light is gone

Summary: Two broken souls in a cold world find solace in each other.

Pairing: Mobster!Dean x (former)Prostitute!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, mentions of prostitution, Dean is a mobster with a heart, Dean feels, comforting, fluff, protective Dean

Part 1

Normal PoV

“The red light is gone,” Dean whispers, reaching out for your hand whilst you look around the fancy restaurant. You never dined at such a place and you are sure, the food Dean ordered costs more than your whole outfit. “Relax, sweetheart. It’s only a dinner.”

“I don’t fit in here,” you look at a woman and her husband who stare at you. “My outfit doesn’t fit in, just like my make-up. I feel like I don’t belong.”

“You are my girl, Y/N. There is no need to feel out of place,” smiling Dean looks at you, not missing you blink a few tears away when the woman snorts at you. “Do you have a problem?”

Dean jumps up before you get the chance to stop him. The woman turns pale, even starts to whimper as Dean towers over her.

“Did you have anything to say to my girlfriend or are you simply impolite?”

“I’m sorry, Sir,” the woman stammers, not meeting Dean’s gaze as she tries to apologize to him. “I just thought your girlfriend’s dress is inappropriate for this kind of restaurant.” Dean hums, giving the woman a once over.

“You mean as you dress like a nun my girl has to hide her legs and perfect breasts? This is a special night to us, and you just ruined my girl’s mood. You will apologize to my lovely girl and get out of the restaurant,” the woman looks at Dean, whispering something you can’t hear. 

“Please accept my apologies,” choking the words out the woman looks at you, praying you will not ask Dean to kill her. Everyone knows who the Winchesters are in Lebanon so it’s no wonder no one wants to mess with Dean, the head of the empire. “I’m truly sorry.”

“Y/N, sweetheart,” Dean stands behind you, glaring at the woman, “will you accept her apology or do you want me to, talk to her some more.”

“It’s fine, Dean,” you chew on your lower lip, not wanting to cause a scene. “I think she’s sorry.” The mobster softly pecks your cheek, never breaking eye contact with the woman.

“Go,” he grits out. “If I hear you came back to my favorite restaurant, I will ‘talk’ some more with you, lady. This is my restaurant. Everyone who comes here respects me and the people I care about.”

“I’m sorry,” almost running out of the restaurant the woman leaves her husband behind. The man awkwardly mumbles an apology before following his wife out of the restaurant. 

“You shouldn’t have defended me, Dean. She was right,” you look down your body, sighing deeply. “Once upon the time I wore more suitable clothes. All I got in my wardrobe are slutty outfits and a pair of worn-out jeans and a few shirts.”

“You look stunning, sweetheart but,” Dean gives you a soft smile before he kisses your forehead gently, “if you want to go shopping, we will do so tomorrow. There is nothing you cannot buy, Y/N.”

“So, you want me to be your,” you wrinkle your forehead, not knowing of Dean wants you to become his ‘all-day’ whore or simply wants to fuck you for free as he owns the club now, “I don’t know what you want me to be. What role shall I play?”

Dean’s PoV

All I wanted was to show Y/N that we can be a normal pair. Well, as normal as a mobster and a former prostitute can be. Now that bitch ruined my girl’s mood and the worst is, Y/N expects me to tell her which ‘role’ she shall play for me.

“Sweetheart,” I sigh deeply when I sit next to her to cup her cheek. I run my thumb over her cheek, smiling when her eyes flutter shut. “I don’t want you to play a role. You are not my employee nor my whore.” 

“I don’t understand, Dean,” god, my girl is used to men taking advantage of her or that anyone only sees her body that she doesn’t recognize kindness when she finds it. “You said you bought the club. What for if you don’t want me to be your…whore?” she chokes the last word out and I know, Y/N fears her downfall isn’t over.

“Y/N, I don’t want you to be my whore, an employee, or someone I simply fuck to get off,” I lean closer to press my lips to the corner of her mouth. “I want you to be my girlfriend and maybe, if you will accept my proposal, my wife one day.”

“I…I don’t know why you want someone like me,” Y/N sniffs. Her eyes drop to the table and then she starts to cry. “I’m a prostitute, Dean. I sold my body and maybe even my soul to Crowley to pay for my mom’s treatment. Not that it matters anymore.”

“I know she died a few months ago, Y/N. Crowley that bastard told you he won’t let you out of your contract – am I right?” I give Y/N my softest smile but she doesn’t even meet my gaze. “This is all over, promised. If you want to, you can go wherever you want to go. I will not force you to stay with me.”

“I got nowhere to go,” she whispers and my heart, that cold lump in my chest which didn’t beat for a woman for years breaks for her. “I used all the money I made to pay for my mom’s treatment. I got nothing left.”

“That’s the reason you lived at the club, in that room?” she nods at me, a sad smile on her kissable lips. “I know this is sudden, but I want you to move in with me. There is no catch, promised. You don’t have to have sex with me if that’s the reason you are concerned.”

“I liked sex with you,” Y/N mumbles. “You always treated me with respect…,” she giggles lightly before her eyes drop to my lips, “and orgasms.” I can’t hold back a groan at her words, especially when Y/N looks at me with these doe eyes I love so much.

“How about we get to know each other before we do more than talk?” I hate myself for the things I just said but to win Y/N’s trust and to show her she’s not a random girl to me, I’d do anything. “You can have one of my guest rooms and decide if you want…” Y/N grasps my hand, squeezing it tightly before she, yet again, starts to cry.

“No one ever offered their help to me without wanting something in return,” she doesn’t let go of me, holds onto my hand for dear life whilst she tears up. I think my girl cries all the tears she held back for too long right here, in the middle of my favorite restaurant during our first date.

I don’t care people look at us when I bring Y/N into my arms to soothe her pain. I just wish we meet before all this happened to her. 

The time can’t be turned back but, I can do everything in my power to make her feel like herself again, not a toy someone plays with. “I promised to you there is no catch. I won’t break my promise. Never.”

Normal PoV

The room is warm. A large bed with a soft mattress welcomes you when you sit down to have a look around the room. There is a shelf filled with books you talked about with Dean and to the left is a walk-in wardrobe full of clothes your size.

Dean mentioned he told his maid to buy stuff for you to make sure you will feel comfortable at his house. You still don’t know why he wants you to become his girlfriend, though.

“Do you need anything else?” through the left door is a bathroom, including a huge bathtub and a steam shower. The kitchen is downstairs to the right if you get hungry or you can just dial 1 and Ellen will bring you food.”

“I,” you glance around the room before you meet Dean’s gaze. Unlike any other time, you met him he wears sweatpants and a wifebeater. Dean leans against the doorframe, just watching you tug at the flannel you chose to wear. 

“Sweetheart, you must talk to me if you need anything,” he pushes off the doorframe to step into the room. “Are you hungry?”

“Tired,” you look at Dean, awkwardly pointing toward the bed. “I am not used to not have a visitor at night,” he chuckles now, giving you his sexy smirk. “Can you stay for a while? Not for sex but…”

“If you want to,” he steps closer, holding out his hand, “you can sleep in my room or I’ll stay here.” you look at the bed one last time before you whisper, ‘your bed’. “You sure Y/N? I don’t want you to tell me what I want to hear. 

Dean’s PoV

It’s an odd feeling to have her in my bed and not to touch her. No, odd is not the right word. Having Y/N in my bed, curled into my side, one hand placed onto my heart is all I ever dreamed of since that first night I spend with her.

She shifts slightly in her sleep to snuggle closer to me. I assume she seeks my warmth or wants to feel safe in a foreign bedroom. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. I will not break my promise, Y/N. If you want to go, I will not hold you back.”

“I don’t know if I’m the right choice, Dean,” her soft voice barely above a whisper Y/N looks up at me. There is the shy girl I got to know in fleeting moments when we just lay on the bed in her room and talked about nonsense. She looks like an innocent angel when she lets her mask fall. “What will your family and friends think? You left your wife for a whore.”

“Never say something like that again,” I say a bit too harsh. “You are not a whore only as you chose to help your mother. This part of your life is in the past. For months you only had sex with me and, I never paid Crowley for it.”

“You didn’t pay him?” I dip my head to brush my lips over her forehead before she can pull away. “I…I had sex with you for free?”

“I didn’t think you would mind,” I grin, eyes dropping to Y/N’s lips. “I always enjoyed making you cum.” she hums at my words, eyes now darker. “I know you loved to feel me too.”

“I enjoyed being with you, Dean,” my lips meet hers. It’s the first kiss I give Y/N as her boyfriend. Well, at least I hope the way she looks up at me means she wants me to be the man in her life. “When I imagined being with someone outside of the club, it was always you.”

“Always me,” I claim her lips again, gently, and careful. I want to make love to her, but not tonight. There is a time for sex later. Tonight, I want her to feel safe, loved, and to enjoy intimacy without being naked.

“You really want me to be your girl?” she whispers against my lips, smiling as I show her my feelings with my lips and hands.

“The red light is gone, sweetheart. There is only a guy and a girl who try to find someone to trust and love. If you are willing to give me a chance, I will not disappoint you, Y/N.”

“I’m willing to risk it…” Y/N whispers and I crush my lips onto hers to show her how much her words mean to me.

Part 3

SPN Forever Tags

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--------------------------------------

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags   

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@peaches007​​

[of-a-chaotic-mind]

Life After Losing Him

Summary: Reader goes about their new daily life but soon runs into the best friend they had lost several months prior.

TW/CW: Platonic!Reader x Sam and Dean Winchester (mostly Dean tbh). Classmate bullying Reader. Should College Student Reader be a warning? Bc I feel like it should lmao. Lots of swearing. Dean does the silver blade test so a wound and blade are mentioned. I don’t think there’s anything else but lmk if I should add something.

Requested?: Yes, a lovely Anon said, “Hello love, your writing is really good and I love how active you are on your account it’s very impressive I could never 🥰 I would be so honored if you could do a platonic imagine for me??? I had in mind like Dean going to hell and coming back and being mad at Sam because he stopped hunting and maybe being mad at reader for moving on and going to college/not trying to help Sam? Idk if that makes any sense lol”

Word Count: 1,880

A/N: So, Dean isn’t as angry as I could’ve written him to be, I didn’t really include Sam much in this one, and it’s mostly Reader going about her day in her new life. If enough of you want it, I could write a second part where Dean and Reader get home and talk to Sam or whatever. I hope this is alright. I personally really like some bits of it but as a whole it feels off to me for some reason.

Your POV

    I grabbed the car keys off my side table before heading out my bedroom door with my backpack slung over my shoulder. I stopped in the kitchen to grab the lunch I had packed the previous evening and a thermos of coffee before heading out for another day of boring ass classes. When I enrolled at the local community college to major in folklore and mythology, I thought the classes would be more interesting and it would be a piece of cake but unfortunately, I got stuck with a boring professor who obviously didn’t even want to be teaching the class in the first place. I push the garage doors open before making my way over to the car. I open the door and drop down into the driver’s seat, set my thermos in the cupholder near my feet, and toss my backpack and lunchbox into the passenger seat. After closing the door, I sigh as I place my hands on the steering wheel, “Alright, Baby. Another day without him but I know you’ve still got my back.” I reach over and pat the dash before cranking the ignition and pulling out of the garage to head for school. The ride to school is quiet aside from the classic rock drifting softly through the speakers.  

    I manage to find a decent parking spot within walking distance of my class but have to mentally prepare myself before grabbing my coffee and backpack and stepping out of the car. I lock the doors, shut mine, and head towards class. On autopilot, I find the classroom that I need and take my usual seat near the front against a wall and turn my back to the wall as I always do. Aside from a few who like to get here early for the same reason I do, to get our favorite seats, the majority of the class hasn’t arrived yet so I pull out my notebook, pen, and coffee. I avoid all eye contact with the others in the room and label my notebook page for today’s lecture. For the most part, people around here seem to avoid me although I haven’t decided if it’s because I intimidate them or because they think I’m “one of those backwoods crazy people” or perhaps it’s both. Regardless, it suits me fine. I’m not here to make friends, I’m here to get a degree and do something useful with my new life. When he died, Sam and I both agreed to not try to find a way to bring him back and try to create a normal life. Every now and then, I secretly take a hunt but it’s usually nothing more than a basic salt and burn case. I did get a job at a local mechanic shop. They were practically begging me to take the job when I showed up for the interview in Baby.

    I’m pulled from my thoughts as a loud group of guys enter the room. I try to ignore them but as per usual their little pack leader wants to try to ruin my day. He calls out to me but thankfully before he can start something, the instructor enters and tells him to have a seat. I’ll have to give this instructor points for at least not putting up with any bullshit like that in his class. Anyway, the rest of the class joins shortly and takes their seats and, on the dot, as always, the instructor starts his lecture. A miserable hour and a half later I have several pages of notes, most of which are completely false from a hunter’s perspective, about topics I already know the truth about just so I know what the instructor will expect on the test. The instructor dismisses us so I pack away all my things and head back to the car to eat lunch before my next class.

    I’m about halfway back to the car, which is completely hidden by a huge, jacked up, 4x4 pickup truck, when the loud group of guys catches up to me and their leader calls out again, "Hey, nerd! Why don’t you stop for a second? I didn’t get a chance to take notes in class and I want to get pictures of yours.”

    I ignore him and keep my head down as I mumble under my breath, “yeah because you were sleeping,” and continue to the car. As I come around the back end of the pickup and approach the car, I slam into something, or rather someone, sturdy and nearly get knocked on my ass if it weren’t for the person catching me. Out of instinct I go to grab my dagger out of its sheath under my sleeve but the person grabs my hand, “Don’t pull that thing out here. It’s just me.” Hearing that voice causes pure shock mixed with a touch of suspicion to wash over me. I look up and into the face of my formerly, dearly departed best friend, Dean Winchester. However, before I can ask questions or even test to make sure it’s him, the small group of my classmates rounds the end of the pickup truck causing Dean to push me behind him in a protective way.  

    The pack leader grins mischievously, “Who’s this? You know this guy, nerd?”

    I roll my eyes but Dean speaks up for me, “I’m (Y/n)’s brother you little bitch. Now, fuck off and leave her alone.” In all honesty, Dean wasn’t biologically my brother but he and Sam have been the closest thing to having any siblings in general that I’ve ever gotten.  

    The pack leader looks around Dean at me, “This true?” I nod. He laughs, “Well, I don’t know which of you are driving this piece of junk but you should probably get with the times and stop driving this old rust bucket. Maybe you could upgrade to a nice truck like mine here,” he taunts patting the truck parked beside us.

    “Your attention seeking, overcompensating piece of shit on wheels could never handle the things this car has been through,” Dean argues, stepping forward. I grab his arm and tug in attempts to get him to back down, no luck.

    The guy scoffs, “Yeah right. I bet if your little friend behind you there hit a curb it’d tear this car to pieces.”

    Before Dean can get into a fist fight, I unlock the car door and shove him in before climbing in myself. Unfortunately, the asshole doesn’t get the hint that I’m leaving and leans back against Baby. I check the mirrors to make sure that I’m not going to run anyone over before driving forward out of my spot, mentally thanking whoever didn’t park there or had just pulled out of the spot in front of me, causing the pack leader to fall on his ass. I laugh to myself as I watch in the rearview mirror and then take off. I find a secluded spot on campus to park so that I can test Dean, figure out what the hell happened with him, and eat my lunch before my next class in four hours. When I put the car in park, and look over, he’s already rolled his sleeve up and has a silver blade ready for the test. He presses the blade into his arm right above another wound that looks fresh.  

    “I figure if Sam wanted all the tests done then you definitely will,” he grumbles before wrapping his arm having sufficiently proven he’s not allergic to the silver. I grab the bottle of holy water that I keep in my backpack and hand it to him. He takes a sip of it before handing it back to me. I nod in understanding before grabbing my lunchbox to eat.

    Once I’ve opened my sandwich, I take a bite, chew, and swallow before asking, “What happened this time?”

    “I don’t know, Sam’s working on that now,” he pauses, watching me, “I’d like to know what the hell happened to you.”

    “There it is again. You never call him Sam but that’s twice in just the past few minutes,” I muse, avoiding his question, “I guess you’re pissed at him because he stopped hunting?”

    “Yeah, and it seems to me like you did too so why don’t you answer my question?” he replies.

    I sigh, and toss my sandwich back onto the paper towel in my lap, “After we lost you, Sam and I agreed to not go looking for a way to bring you back and to start living a normal life. Granted, I always mentally thanked him for phrasing it that way because that meant if a way to bring you back fell into my lap then I could take the opportunity. Regardless, I got a job at a mechanic shop nearby and started classes here for a degree in folklore and mythology.”

    He scoffs and whips his head around to look out the windshield, “So you stopped hunting too. What the hell is wrong with you two?”

    “The two of us didn’t stop hunting. He did,” I snap back, “He doesn’t know it but I go on hunts every now and then when the apple pie life gets too boring.”

    “What about that asshole back there? Why do you let him bully you?” he asks, nodding his head toward where we had come from earlier.

    “He’s always trying to pick on me but I ignore him for the most part and keep my dagger in my sleeve just in case. The less attention I draw to myself the better.” I answer.

    “You’re really balancing all this? Like, you go to class and study for exams and shit but then every now and then you go hunting during the weekend?” he asks and I nod. “So, what about Sammy?”

    “He got a job, even been on a few dates but like I said, he stopped hunting, as far as I know anyway,” I respond. My phone dings before either of us could say anything else so I pick it up to check it and find that my instructor for my other class for today has sent out a message to cancel it for today. I toss the phone down onto the seat between us and stuff my sandwich and everything else I had pulled out back into my lunchbox before putting the car in drive and backing out of this spot.

    “What are you doing?” he questions, once again. I swear if he doesn’t knock it off with the questions, I’m going to roundhouse his ass.

    “Going home. My other class for today was cancelled,” I answer shortly.

    He’s quiet until we get to the campus entrance, “Can we- uh- Can we stop and get a burger on the way?” I nod as I laugh at him. This is probably going to be weird to adapt to but we’ll figure it out. The three of us always figure things out. Honestly, if this turns into something bigger, as it usually does, then wouldn’t mind quitting school. Turns out it’s not all it’s cracked up to be and definitely not for me. I just hope Dean won’t sulk too long about how Sam and I handled life after losing him.

Masterlist

Taglist: @emiijemii @akshi8278 @deandaydreaming @castiels-majestic-wings​ @desimarie12​

[mummybear]

The Best Distraction

Words: 5213 

Warnings: Threesome, Soooo Much Smut, Spanking, Swearing, Oral Sex (Male and Female Receiving, Mentions Of Cheating Ex, Think That’s It ;)

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader x Damon Salvatore, Dean x Reader, Damon x Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Damon Salvatore, Reader

Summery: After tough day at work preparing for two very important businessmen arriving Monday, all you want is a drink. Your cheating ex finds you at the bar you decide to go for, but when he won’t take no for an answer two extremely handsome strangers have something to say about that, and they would really like to make your night that much better.

A/N: This is written for my girl Sian’s 500 followers challenge! @deanwanddamons I had the prompt: And Every time I Scratch my nails down someone else's back I hope you feel it. So happy for you my little beauty!! Hope you enjoy this ;) 

Work had been long and hard today, even more so than usual. Since these two big time businessmen were supposed to be coming in for a really important meeting on Monday, which you were leading. With so much work to do in such little time, everyone had stayed at the office later, in order to get all of the preparation finished in time. Needless to say, everyone was feeling the strain. 

To top it all off you’d found out just days ago that your boyfriend of five years had cheated on you with your next door neighbour of all people. You should’ve known, all the signs were there. You couldn’t help feeling stupid for not realising sooner.

It was a Saturday night and all you wanted to do was get a drink and drown your sorrows. Your best friend has been a constant source of support. The only problem was that she was working tonight, but she’d promised to come out if she finished work in time, after all your favourite bar was only a short walk away.

Now you’re finally home you take a nice hot shower, finally washing away the grime of the day. You’d already picked your outfit the night before, your tight black dress, that hugged all your curves in the right places and a pair of red heels which worked with your dress perfectly. 

The walk to the bar is easy and only takes you ten minutes. 

Walking inside the bar you’re surprised at the lack of people. Especially for a Saturday night. It was almost deserted compared to most nights, let alone the weekends. Only a few of the booths were filled and half the bar stools were occupied.

The click clack of your heels follow you all the way to the bar. Noticing the young barman, you lean against the sticky bar top, you call him over. His smile is kind and welcoming when he approaches you.

“What can I get you?” 

“Whatever bottle of beer you recommend” you answer, returning his smile as you fiddle with the damp beer mat in front of you.

“Comin’ right up” he winks, but thankfully not in a creepy way. You thank him when he returns with a bottle. Annoyingly, he disappears quickly after you pay. 

A small squeak of surprise leaves your lips, when a pair of arms wrap around your neck pulling you back into a hard chest.

“I missed you baby girl, when’re you coming home?” His voice makes your stomach lurch, the bile quickly rising in your throat. 

You throw your elbow back into his ribs, making an instant connection. A pained grunt sounding from him. Luckily, it’s enough to make him let go. Turning around you shove hard against his chest, watching as he stumbles backwards. 

“I told you that we’re done. Now just leave me alone you cheating sack of crap” 

He grabs your elbow and lowers his voice, stepping into your personal space further.

“And I told you, get home. Now.”

You don’t remember him ever speaking to you like this, the whole time you’d been together. You’d never seen him this angry. In fact, the look in his eyes is scaring the crap out of you. His grip tightens as you attempt to back away. 

Gathering every ounce of confidence you can muster, you bring your knee up and slam it between his legs. 

He lets go of you with a shout, hands grabbing between his legs as he slumps against the bar.

Keeping your tone even, you bend down close to his ear, making sure to keep enough distance that he can’t surprise you too easily. “Every single time I fuck someone else, I hope that you remember, it’s all your fault. And every time I scratch my nails down someone else’s back, I hope you feel it”

He snarls at you, causing you to take a step back. “You stupid b-” before he can finish the sentence and launch himself at you, someone grabs his arms and slams him face first into the bar, roughly pressing his weight onto your ex.

You look up at the stranger and have to stop your jaw from dropping. He’s drop dead fucking gorgeous. Well styled light brown hair, that sticks up enough so you can imagine nothing but running your fingers through it. Perfect plump lips that pull into an easy smile. Eyes that are the most incredible green, with crinkles at the sides. Giving you panty dropping smile and a wink that almost stops your heart.

 All you can do is smile back nervously. Watching the way he moves, hauling your ex off the bar like he weighs nothing, before marching him over to the bouncer by the exit.

You jump a little nervously when a large hand lands gently on your shoulder. You turn to face the newcomer and find yourself unable to speak. Was there some kind of male model convention in town you weren’t aware of or something?!

“Hey there, are you doing okay?” he asks, carefully taking your arm in his hand and studying your elbow.

Chewing your bottom lip nervously you look up, meeting his stunning crystal blue eyes. That mess of dark, almost black hair on his head. Hair that was just begging you to run your fingers through it, much like the guy before, except there is a little less style to it. He has a jawline that could damn near cut glass and that freaking smirk was just something else all together. 

You clear your throat and nod slightly, shifting yourself so that you’re standing a little closer to him. 

“Yeah. I’m good, thanks to your friend. Just a cheating ex that can’t take a hint” you tell him truthfully, fiddling with your fingers. His hand leaves your arm and you feel a chill against your skin.

“I would say it’s a good job we were here then. But you look like you can handle yourself,” he smiles cheekily.

“Guess it could’ve gone worse” you reply quietly, easily returning his smile.

“So what’s your name beautiful?” he asks a little seductively, leaning closer to you, both of you taking a seat at the bar. You can’t help but blush under his intense gaze.

Is he flirting with you? The way he’s looking at you, sure as hell makes you think so. But he can’t be right? Then you watch the way his eyes skim down your body. It’s slow and deliberate and you know that he knows you’re watching him.

Thankfully this doesn’t make you more nervous, in fact, you get a little more confident. Watching the way he sips the whiskey he’s ordered, the bob of his Adam's apple in his throat. 

Your knees bump against his as you cross your legs and that smirks back on his plump lips.

“My name is Y/N. How about yourself, handsome?” you ask seductively, holding out your hand to him. The two of you lean in just a little closer to one another. You can smell the aftershave he’s wearing.

He takes your hand in his, pressing his lips to the back of it, causing goosebumps to erupt across your skin. 

“Name’s Damon princess, and this here is Dean,” he informs you, nodding in the direction of Dean as he walks up behind the two of you.

Dean claps a hand on Damon’s shoulder, standing between the two of you. 

“Nice to meet you sweetheart” Dean winks, sending a blush across your body as you smile back. “He won't be bothering you again tonight” Dean assures you kindly and you can’t thank him enough.

It doesn’t take them long to convince you to join them at their booth for a drink, where you discover they’re in town on business, leaving their little brothers in charge of their company which they share. Neither of them go into too much detail about what they do, but that’s completely fine with you. You explain what you do for a living, but don’t go into it too much, since a lot of what you do is very confidential. Talk of work only goes that far though. The three of you fall into easy conversation, with stories of their friends back home and things you and your best friend have gotten up to.

You feel like all you’ve done is laugh. These two guys are nothing like you would’ve expected. They’re both very down to earth, completely hilarious and they actually seem to be interested when you’re talking. They were similar in a lot of ways, which of course included being sexy as hell and just as flirty as one another. 

Which wasn’t making your predicament any easier to deal with. You had Dean pressed up against your right side, while Damon was pressed against your left.

“So, how long are you guys in town for?” you question glancing between the two of them, still a little breathless from the laughter.

“Probably until Tuesday morning. We’ve got a little business to take care of on Monday. Why, do you want us to leave already?” Damon asks, smirking knowingly when Dean’s hand rests on the top of your thigh, finger tips slipping under the hem of your dress squeezing gently.

You swallow around the nervous lump that’s returned to your throat, meeting those blue eyes again, you shiver.

“No, I just wondered if you guys had to get going,” you reply slightly quieter, voice shaking a little when Damon’s hand grips your other thigh tightly, fingers digging into your soft skin. 

“So you’ve got nothing else planned for tonight?”

“Well beautiful, that really depends on your answer to our next question,” Damon replies, the seductive tone that drips from his words is like honey.

“Okay, I’m listening,” you reply quickly, mouth as dry as the Sahara desert. 

To your surprise Dean’s other hand gently turns your face to look at him. 

You're practically hypnotised when he leans in closer, close enough that his nose practically bumps against yours, breaths mixing together in the close proximity.

“Well sweetheart, we were wonderin’ if you’d be interested in us showing you just how you deserve to be treated, one night and no pressure. Of course, you can say n-” you cut him off before he can finish speaking, his voice so deep and husky and it’s really beginning to do things to you. 

Your lips press against his, firm but yielding and he groans into your mouth, fingers tightening on your thigh. His tongue swipes across yours, melting with the way he controls the kiss. You can’t help but whimper into Dean’s mouth when Damon drags his teeth over your earlobe, pressing kisses down your neck.

Reluctantly you pull away from Dean’s lips and Damon pulls back from your neck. Your eyes follow the blue eyed man as he slips out of the booth, eyes fixed on you as he speaks.

“We should probably get outta here, before someone starts complaining or things get indecent” Damon grits out past clenched teeth, but you’re already halfway out of the booth, taking his offered hand, with Dean getting out close behind you.

“So I was wondering, do you guys do this often then?” you ask curiously, linking your fingers with Damon’s and Dean wraps his arm around your shoulder, easily falling into step with the both of you. They can’t help but chuckle as Damon leads you towards Dean’s baby. 

At least that’s what he’d called it. 

“Honestly. No sweetheart, we don’t usually agree when it comes to women, normally go our separate ways, and honestly we usually have the time. There’s just something about you, that we couldn’t agree on more” Dean reveals, releasing you to unlock the sleek black car door.

You kiss Dean’s cheek when he opens the door for you. Climbing inside carefully, so that your dress doesn’t ride up too high, closely followed by Damon. You watch as Dean rounds the front of the car, his hand gliding lovingly along the hood.

“Nice car” you grin as Dean closes his door behind him and starts the engine. The rumble vibrating under your ass, is followed by the most amazing sound that fills the air. Dean throws you a wink as he pulls out of the parking lot.

You can  feel Damon’s eyes on you as Dean drives the short distance to the hotel. Turning to him with a smile, you're a little shocked when his lips roughly press against yours, hands pushing into your hair holding you close, he presses you back into Dean.

Dean drags your thighs over his, one of his large hands gripping you roughly, slipping under the hem of your dress. Damon grunts when your hand brushes against the bulge in his pants, the firm drag of your hand has you impressed by what you find. Your moans melds with Dean’s, when Damon presses your free hand into Dean’s lap. 

Damon pulls back from your lips with a cocky smirk, your eyes lidded as you look into those icy blue eyes. 

“Dean, please” you whimper desperately, when his fingers brush over the material of your lacy panties, bumping against your clit repeatedly.

You know you’re blushing under Damon’s intense gaze, but you don’t care, this was easily the best you’d felt in months.

“Does that feel good baby girl?” Damon all but purrs, pressing his soft lips to yours all too briefly as Dean’s fingers continue to stroke you teasingly. “Maybe we should just fuck you right here, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” 

Damon’s words are affecting you almost as much as Dean’s fingers and your mind feels like it’s buzzing, skin on fire and tingling. You huff in annoyance, feeling the car slow and Dean moves his hand away. Pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

You glare at Damon hearing him chuckle, but it quickly turns into a giggle, when practically pulls you out of the car and you fall into his arms on shaking legs. 

“Falling for me already, huh?” Damon chuckles, wrapping an arm around your waist and you can’t help but smile up at him.

“Full on cheese mode already Damon?” you ask as the two of you follow Dean inside the impressive hotel. 

“Wow!” you gasp looking around at the lavish furnishings as the three of you walk inside the elevator.

The doors have barely closed and Dean is on you. Silently, he backs you up against the wall as the elevator continues to climb. You can’t help but whimper at the forcefulness of it. His firm chest presses against your soft one and you practically melt against him, soft plump lips press against yours in a needy kiss. Dean’s large hands move to grip your ass roughly, pulling you against him as he rolls his hips into you, causing the bulge in his jeans to press repeatedly against your throbbing clit. 

You gasp for air when Dean finally releases your lips, so that he can kiss and nip down your neck, your eyes quickly locking on Damon’s over Dean’s shoulder. The perfect blue of his eyes has been almost swallowed by the black of his pupils. 

“Fuck that’s hot” Damon groans, stepping closer to you he pecks your lips, gasping into his mouth when Dean drags those perfect white teeth over your pulse point.

“Damon likes watching sometimes. I just wanna be the reason you come so hard you forget your name” Dean breathes out against your heated skin. 

You swear your entire body is on fire and their filthy mouths are not helping at all.

The ding of the elevator coming to a stop catches your attention and they both step back slightly, dragging you down the hall to their room, the three of you giggling and touching the entire way.

After a little fumbling and batting your hands away Damon finally gets the door open, doing his best not to laugh as the three of you stumble inside together. 

“Wow, this is gorgeous,” you marvel as they give you the tour, but the bedroom is something else.

You turn away from the bed feeling both sets of eyes on you. Quickly coming face to face with both of them, green and blue eyes locked on yours.

“You nervous baby girl?” Damon asks, keeping his voice low and steady as he walks behind you, pushing the hair over one shoulder.

You swallow around the dry lump in your throat, nodding slightly when Dean steps closer, Damon’s lips are soft on your skin as he pushes the straps of your dress down your arms.

“Why sweetheart?” Dean questions brushing his lips over yours, fingers hooking into the tops of your dress helping you tug it down your body. Until you kick it away along with your shoes.

“Fuck look at you,” Dean growls softly, fingers trailing across your skin, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

“We’ve got you baby, just relax,” Damon murmurs against your neck. 

Dean’s fingers hook in the sides of your lace panties but you stop him. Green eyes flash to yours and you can see the underlying worry there, so when you smirk at him, he physically relaxes almost immediately. 

With shaking hands you slip the plaid shirt from his broad shoulders. Looking up at Dean’s face, you notice he’s chewing on his lip as he watches you. 

Damon unhooks your bra and pushes it off of your shoulders. You let out a relieved sigh when it hits the floor with Dean’s black under shirt. Cupping your breasts in his large hands Damon groans behind you. You can’t take your eyes off of Dean as he steps back to pull off the rest of his clothes. Pulling you back against his naked chest, Damon’s thumbs brush over the stiff peaks of your nipples, rolling them between his thumb and forefinger. Lips pressing to your ear and you can’t hold back the shiver.

“Bet you’re so wet baby, you like watching Dean? We’re gonna make you feel so good, make you come so hard,” Their voices are gonna be the end of you, you’re sure of it.

As soon as Damon says those words, Dean’s boxers hit the floor. You can’t help but moan their names unsure of what you’re asking for, watching as Dean wraps his fingers around his thick length and starts to move his hand.

You turn quickly in Damon’s arms, pushing your hands into his hair, pulling him into a rough kiss, which turns into a mess of tongues and teeth as you try and tug at his belt.

“Need you, fuck need you both” you moan against Damon’s lips when Dean presses up behind you, breath hot against your neck, he pushes your panties down. 

Dean’s fingers slip between your soaked folds before you’ve even kicked your panties away, a hungry growl leaving that sexy mouth. 

Damon steps away from you to fully remove the rest of his clothes and you almost fall forwards. Thankfully, Dean’s hands hold you up, a strong arm wrapping around your middle as he slips a thick digit inside you.

“So fuckin’ wet and tight sweetheart, can’t wait to get my face between your thighs, wanna feel you come on my tongue” Dean’s words coupled with the movements of his fingers, almost have you coming there and then.

You whimper at the loss as Dean pulls his finger away. Stepping back you turn to face him, watching him suck and lick your wetness from his finger. Dean gently nudges you, until you fall back. As soon as your back hits the mattress, Dean pulls your legs over his shoulders. 

You turn your head, finding Damon standing by the edge of the bed, watching the scene before him intently. Plump lip caught between his sharp white teeth, pumping his thick cock. You seriously can’t believe your luck. 

You’re quickly pulled from your thoughts, a loud gasp leaving your lips, when Dean’s tongue pushes through your soaked folds, swirling around your clit. Fingers pushing into his hair, your back arches off the bed, when he pushes two thick fingers inside you. Dean groans loudly, sucking your clit between his perfect lips, gorgeous green eyes lifting to meet your lust blown ones.

“Dean, i’m so close! Please!” your voice is a broken mess, begging him for more, one hand leaving Dean’s ruined hair you reach for Damon.

Damon steps closer, cock still gripped tight in his hand. You sit up on your elbows and lick your lips, a loud whine leaving your lips when Dean crooks his fingers upwards inside you. 

“You want it baby? Think you can handle both of us” Damon smirks, his cock only a breath away from your lips.

“Please Damon, want you to fuck my mouth” 

“Can’t say no to that, can I?” 

He steps that little bit closer as you open your mouth. You moan as his pre-come drips onto your tongue. Swirling the thick muscle around the swollen tip. Damon’s hands tangle in your hair, when your lips seal around his cock and you hollow your cheeks.

“Fuck, that’s a good mouth,” Damon grunts, his head dropping back, slowly starting to thrust his hips, your fingers digging into his muscled thigh. 

You moan around him when Dean pushes one of your knees back into the bed, his fingers picking up the pace. His lips pull from your clit with an audible pop, nipping his way down your thighs, down to your ass. His tongue circles around your puckered hole and your back arches, pushing Damon’s thick length against the back of your throat.

Damon lets out a choked groan, hands tightening in your hair, his hips picking up their speed. Your pussy is fluttering like crazy around Dean’s fingers, you’re so fucking close.

“Come on baby, give it to him” Damon grunts, pulling his cock from your mouth, letting you fall back on the bed to breathe. 

Dean’s mouth moves back to your clit, doubling his efforts his free hand disappears and you feel the vibrations of his moans intensify.

“Come on beautiful, give it to me. Come all over my face” Dean growls breathless and needy. Like a switch has been flipped inside you, your thighs tighten around his head and your orgasm pushes through your body.

“Oh fuck” you hear them both, but your brain is fuzzy and swimming with pleasure.

Dean is kissing his way up your body when you finally start to come down. Kissing you slow and languid, allowing the taste of your pussy to invade your mouth.

“Hands and knees sweetheart” Dean smirks when he pulls away, tapping your hip, Damon moves to sit at the head of the bed. 

“Oh fuck, yes” you moan crawling towards Damon, angling your hips to push your ass in the air. You kiss your way up Damon’s thighs, while Dean kneels behind you, long fingers smoothing over your ass, finally stilling on your hips and digging harshly into your skin. 

Damon’s head thunks back against the bed frame when you run your tongue over his balls, up the underside of his thick length.

“You’re too good at that” Damon moans, wrapping your hair around his hand so he can see your face.

Dean’s cock pushes through your folds slicking himself up with your wetness, he slips the tip of his length inside you, loving the way that you stretch around him.

“Jesus, you’re so tight baby, feel so good wrapped around my cock” Dean groans. Your eyes almost roll into the back of your head when he moves again, slowly pushing himself further inside you. Fingers digging into Damon’s strong thighs, you feel the muscles tense beneath your grip.

You wrap your hand around the base of Damon’s cock, swiping your tongue over the head, dipping the tip into the small slit, meeting his eyes when the salty tang hits your tongue. You can hear his breathing getting heavier when you finally wrap your lips around his thick length. He tosses his head back and moans your name.

Dean stills for a moment, now that his hips are flush against your ass, letting you adjust to the sheer size of him stretching you open. Keeping your eyes on Damon’s face you begin to bob your head over him, feeling the stretch of your lips the further you take him. Speeding up your movements your back arches further, pushing Dean just slightly deeper.

Dean leans over your body, grabbing your arms he tugs them behind your back. Your hands wrap around his wrists as he starts to move, pushing you onto Damon’s cock with every slow harsh thrust of his hips. 

You’ve never been so full. So satisfied. 

Saliva leaks from the corners of your lips and down Damon’s rock hard length, making the slide of him into your mouth that much easier. Your moaning uncontrollably around Damon’s cock as Dean’s thrusts force Damon’s cock to slip down your throat.

The sounds of skin on skin echo around the room, “Fuck, I’m close” Damon grunts trying to pull back a little. You shake your head the best you can. He seems to understand. 

Sinking his teeth into his bottom lip his hips start to thrust faster, harder, stuttering slightly when he bumps the back of your throat again. You gag taking his cock as deep as you can and Damon growls low in his throat, fists tightening in your hair. Dean’s fingers tighten around your wrists, fucking into you harder. His free hand smacks your ass harshly and you whine around Damon, the vibrations shooting straight through him.

“Oh fuck! Dean, do that again” Damon begs, sweat coating his body as he chases his release.

Dean has no problem complying with that, his large hand coming down harder on your other cheek. You practically scream around Damon as you come. It’s hard and fast, it almost hurts, when it shoots through your body. Damon pushes deeper into your mouth, the tip of his cock slipping into your throat as he comes too. 

Dean stills behind you, giving you time to breathe. You swallow everything Damon gives you, the best you can, until the pulsing of his cock stops and he pulls himself free of your lips with a pop.

Your body sags, forehead dropping onto Damon’s thigh.

“Shit baby girl, you were incredible” Damon pants, running his fingers through your hair. Letting go of your wrists, Dean wraps his arms around your body, pulling you back against his chest.

“You think you got one more for me sweetheart?” Dean questions against your neck, lips and tongue gently brushing across your skin.

“Yes Dean” you respond a little dazed when his hips start to move again. 

Damon’s watching you both with the sexiest look you’ve seen on him yet. 

Humming Dean presses his lips to your ear, dragging his teeth over your ear lobe gently, “You’re fucking soaked baby, shit. Feels so good, perfect little pussy” Dean groans, sucking a mark into the side of your neck.

“Dean faster, harder please. I can take it” you beg desperate for release, clinging to his arm that’s wrapped around your stomach. Your eyes lock on Damon when he moves, lips sealing around one of your nipples. You push your fingers into his dark hair, tugging harder when his teeth scrape over the hardened peaks. One of Dean’s hands drops between your legs, his hips start to stutter, spreading the lips of your pussy open. 

Damon presses his fingers against your clit, rubbing back and forth quickly, while Dean fucks into you at a punishing pace that has you screaming their names. 

“Dean, talk to me please?” 

Dean chuckles, causing goosebumps to prickle across your skin, “You’re close baby, so close, I can feel it. I can feel how fucking tight your little pussy is squeezing my cock. You wanna come don’t you baby girl?” 

“Yes! Yes please” you whine desperately, hands clinging to Damon’s back, nails digging into his soft skin. 

Damon pulls off your nipple, eyes boring straight into yours, “There you go princess, use us. Fucking come on, come all over him, he wants it” 

You cling tighter to Damon and pull him closer, when you finally find your release, your pussy clamping down around Dean for the second time, finally succeeding pulling him over the edge with you. 

Blinking your eyes open, you have no idea how you ended up laying down between the two of them.

“Welcome back sleeping beauty. Watch him, he’s kind of a cuddler” Damon chuckles, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. You giggle feeling Dean’s strong arms tugging you back against him tighter, face buried in your neck.

“Well, that was intense and incredible” you grin happily, linking your fingers with Dean’s under the duvet, as Damon takes your other hand pressing a kiss to your knuckles.

“Couldn’t agree more, beautiful” Damon winks, his nose brushing against yours when he snuggles closer.

“Sleep” Dean grumbles against your skin, making you smile sleepily, letting your eyes slip closed.

When you open your eyes again the sunlight is bleeding in through the curtains. You wince at the blissful ache between your legs. Luckily they’d both rolled over at some point during the night. You climb off the bed awkwardly, doing your best not to disturb them. 

You dress as quickly as you can, unable to stop glancing at the bed, at their gorgeous peaceful faces. Slipping into your shoes, you decide to leave your number on the bedside table. 

With a final look at them you slip out of the room. 

When you get home you have a nice hot bath, wishing that you hadn’t left that room, but you had to be truthful with yourself about last night. It was just an incredible one night thing. 

The day passes quickly, watching Netflix and a little more prep work for tomorrow, you receive a text from Dean and Damon which makes you smile. Informing you that they intended to meet up with you again, very soon, which you are more than happy with.

Monday morning rolls around all too quickly, walking into your office you prepare to give your presentation. Very aware of the hickey that Dean had left very high on your neck. You’d covered it the best you could, but you knew it was there. 

Handing out the manilla folders to your colleagues, you wait for the two high big shots to turn up, the door squeaking open catches your attention. You look up ready to greet these businessmen but your smile falters, jaw almost hitting the floor. 

Blue and green eyes find you quickly. Clearly, they’re biting back their obvious smiles. Shaking both their hands you’re failing miserably to hide your blush. 

Dean leans in close enough to speak in your ear, “I gotta say, you look fucking delicious with my marks all over you” his voice is a rough husky rumble and you can’t help but wonder what you’ve gotten yourself into.

Clearing your throat as they take their seats, you smile at the rest of the room, “Shall we start?” 

All Fic Tags: @chewie-redbird @julzdec @lettersofwrittencollective @stiles-o-dylan24 @mogaruke @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @dylanholyhellobrien @desireepow-1986 @emichelle @lilulo-12 @22sarah08 @deanwanddamons @simsadventures  @charmed-asylum @nicole-lynne  @hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog

Dean Tags: @fandom-princess-forevermore​ @flamencodiva​ @hobby27​ @akshi8278 @littlelonewolfgirl @ladywinchester1967​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @maddiepants​ @spnfanfic-reblogs​ @holylulusworld​ @mrswhozeewhatsis​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​ @sonofabringmesomepie​ @manawhaat​

[bifuriouswaterbender]

Harry Potter Fanfic Recommendations about Trans Characters

I will not pretend to be an expert by any means when I am cis, but I’ve come across plenty of stories with trans characters in the past and wanted to not only re-find them but also discover more. Here is a far-from-comprehensive list of links sorted by which character is trans. Some of these stories have more than one, in which case I deferred to the protagonist. 

I intend to keep adding to this as I discover more, so if anyone has specific recommendations, please send them my way! I only have ten listed thus far, but I wanted to get the list out there.

Harry Potter

the girl who lived (again) - Features Harry/Ginny. 10,330 words. Rated G.

Molly tried her best. When Harry had told them, Arthur had asked excitedly, "is this a Muggle thing?" Hermione had hurried out a "no!" and a frantic history of gender diversity in the wizarding world.

"It's just that I'm a girl," Harry had said, and Arthur had nodded and asked her about how telephone booths worked. He would call her by the right pronouns until the day he died at the respectable old age of one hundred and thirty three, and he would make it seem easy.

But Molly had to try. Hermione explained things faster and higher-pitched every time Molly messed up a pronoun. Molly frowned and muttered and put extra potatoes on Harry's plate at breakfast. Harry slept in Ron's room, which didn't bother either of them but which made Hermione scowl.

Harry got boxes of sweets and warm hugs, as Molly chewed things over. For her fifteenth Christmas, the Weasley sweater she would receive would be a bright, friendly, terrible pink.

The next time Harry visited, Molly put her on Ginny's floor to sleep-- for some definition of sleep that involved Hermione hissing threats at three in the morning if Harry and Ginny didn't "shut up about Wronski feints, do you know what time it is."

My note: This story is actually a re-imagining of her whole book story. Her name is considered at one point, but she decides to keep using Harry because she feels it fits her. It also includes references to other trans and gender fluid characters.

Draco Malfoy

The Only True Goal of the Universe - Features Harry/Draco and background Hermione/Ron, Seamus/Dean. 22,753 words. Rated E.

It comes up, as most juvenile things do, in a game of Truth or Dare.

Shenanigans - Features Harry/Draco and background Hermione/Ron. 4823 words. Rated E.

Of course Draco’s orgasm hits him right as Potter does the one thing he’s not supposed to do. Of fucking course.

Or, the blood curse lingering over the Malfoys has landed on Draco, and he’s doomed to get knocked up by the first cock that gets inside his cunt. Just his luck that cock ends up being Harry Potter’s.

Hand-in-Hand and Handkerchief - Features Draco/Astoria. 3008 words. Rated G

Draco Malfoy is not generally sympathetic to the sight of tears, but when he stumbles upon a second year Slytherin sniffling in the rose garden during the Yule Ball, for once he manages not to be a complete arse. Astoria is just glad that he had a handkerchief in his pocket because she forgot hers.

My Note: This includes three trans characters, including a happy adult example. It also has mention of a really cool magical potion idea for transition that the author has provided a free-for-use explanation of here.

Sirius Black

Discards - Features Remus/Sirius, James/Lily. 76,032 words. Rated M. Modern non-magical AU.

When 21-year-old assistant librarian Sirius spots a cute hipster college student at the Seattle Public Library, he just needs to figure out a subtle way of determining whether he's into guys. But Remus's life is more complicated than Sirius knows.

My note:  Tons of diversity within this cast with no white main characters and many different sexualities mentioned. Also sex positive with great commentary about homelessness, HIV, sex work, classism, and more. 

Live Like We’re Renegates - Remus/Sirius and background Lily/James. 24,378 words. Rated E.

Exuberant, proud, genderfluid, cheerleader, self-described narcissist. All things to describe Sirius Black. It's a stark contrast from the self-imposed loner, Journalist, and Gender Studies major Remus Lupin who is thrown into Sirius' world after accepting a project for a class. When the two worlds collide, both lives are changed for the better.

Sirius leant forward a bit, meeting Remus’ eyes. “Are you asking if I go for cute boys in beanies and jumpers, Remus Lupin?”

Remus’ face went hot. “Er. No. I mean…er…”

Sirius laughed. “Find your chill, love. I’m joking.” He winked at Remus and sat back again.

My note: Sirius is genderfluid and uses He/Him pronouns. Remus is deaf with a cochlear implant.

Lay Your Hands on Me -Features Remus/Sirius and background Lily/James. 8947 words. Rated E.

In which Sirius really likes trying out new hairstyles over the years and Remus really can't concentrate on much else, to be honest. This fic features reckless and impulsive teenage boys, classic Marauders-style banter, a low-key overdramatic Remus, and falling in love with close friends.

Or, alternatively: Three times Remus really wanted to touch Sirius' hair and one time he actually did.

Remus Lupin

TransFigured (and continued series) - Features Remus/Sirius. 57,170. Rated E.

“We thought you might be a werewolf," said Sirius. "What?" Remus almost laughed at the absurdity. "Last year. James and I thought — but the dates didn’t quite match up. With the full moons, I mean." "Well, I’m not." "I know. All I meant was, we thought you might be, and we still wanted to be friends. Whatever you’re not telling us — how much worse can it be?"

All Hail the Outlaws - Features Remus/Sirius and background Lily/James, Peter/Dorcas. 29,330 words. Rated E.

One of Remus Lupin's three jobs happens to be working maintenance for their flat building. He gets to meet all sorts, most of whom he would rather have nothing to do with. Until James Potter and Sirius Black move in across the hall. Engineering students and self-proclaimed geniuses, the pair set out to make their neighbours new best friends, and everyone's life is turned upside down, but in the best way possible.

My note: Sirius is blind, and the fic spends a lot of focus on each man’s experiences with bigotry and learning how to best be there for each other.

Succession of Halos - Features Remus/Sirius and background Lily/James. 7340 words. Rated E

When Remus gets talked into seeing his favourite author--Astronomy Professor S. Black--hold a stargazing lecture, he anticipates a stodgy old man in tweed. He does not expect the ripped jeans and rolling-stones t-shirt wearing, motor-bike riding Sirius Black with his wicked smile and passion for the stars. Remus is sure there's no chance between them, but little does he know, Sirius has a passion for many things in life, one of which being Remus Lupin.

My note: I have this listed under Remus, but Sirius is also genderfluid. Baby Harry is featured in the story, and is blind.

Child Characters

‘Twas Brillig - Features Harry/Draco with failed Harry/Ginny. 73,998 words. Rated E.

Harry reads a chapter of Alice's Adventures in Wonderland to his children before bed every night and through the story, he and his middle child find an ally in each other as they, along with Alice, discover a world that just doesn't seem to make sense when taken at face value. The more aware Harry becomes - embracing his child's reality - the more motivated he is to build a wizarding world that is fully inclusive, and by processing these life lessons finds he's able to connect with another person in ways that have always eluded him.

My Note: There are two trans characters in this story, one being Al (who begins using Alice with Al still as a nickname) and another being an adult I’ll leave unnamed because it comes up organically. This story is as much if not more so about Harry’s sexuality, and there is also strong representation of drag and crossdressing from a cis male character.

Miscellaneous

When The Letter Comes by Sara Fox - A published short story that seems definitely inspired by Harry Potter but also by other fantasy works.

Henry believes that someday, something awesome will happen–everything will turn out all right and all her problems will disappear once her letter arrives, welcoming her to magic school. So even though puberty is already here with changes (like her voice deepening and hair growing in places she does not want), she also knows it’s only a matter of time. After all, hundreds of books have said so.

But when the letter finally comes on Henry’s thirteenth birthday, it is not addressed to her, but to her sister.

When The Letter Comes is a short story with a YA trans protagonist that embraces the experience of those left behind, who must find their own way in the world–magic or not.

[justjessame]

Dr. Tali Sullivan

The first time I met the Winchesters, I was far too young for them to make an impression. I was around two years old, and if I struggled and pressed my memory that far back, I could ALMOST make out the couple’s only son, Dean, keeping me occupied with my set of wooden blocks. Almost.

The second time I met the Winchesters, I was four. This time I do remember, because my dad was helping John, the father cope with his overwhelming grief at losing his wife. I heard the words I would be destined to hear over and over from the entirety of my life. ‘Demon’, ‘vengeance’, and of course ‘hunter’.

My mom and dad both came from prestigious hunting families. And I’m not talking about big game or seasonal hunters. No, Mom and Dad were hunters of a completely different sort. They hunted all the terrors that regular people would think were tall tales or ghost stories. I was their only child, and while they expected me to learn to defend myself against the forces of evil, they didn’t press me to take up their cause. Since their families were so important, I had plenty of aunts and uncles that could take up any slack my leaving the ‘family business’ could possibly cause. Then there were the latecomers to the cause, men like John Winchester who lost a loved one to the terrors and vowed to end them.

And so, after a few more visits from the Winchesters- when I was seven, Dean had teased me for being so boring with my nose in a book the entire time. At twelve, when Sam kept asking me to borrow one book or another, vowing to adhere to all my rules about their care. At sixteen, when John blinked at me wondering out loud how could I possibly have gotten so big. Memories of the three Winchesters were scarce, but memorable.

Now here I was, twenty nine and had finally achieved my goal. Dr. Tali Sullivan, Professor of Lore and the Occult, with a side of Ancient Dialects and Historical Significance. I was shocked, when in the second week of my second year of teaching, I looked up and saw the eldest Winchester man looking down from a top row seat. I nearly lost my place in the lecture. Nearly, but not quite. I swallowed my reaction and went back to explaining how, even within various different cultures and countries, the myths shared and circulated, all seemed to have a single thread back to one story. And that one story, branching out and circling the globe, would mean what?

“Your assignment, which is laid out in your syllabus, is to explain how that one thread untangling and branching out, would do what?” I smiled at the faces that proved they’d all been listening, almost hearing the gears churning in their heads. “Impress me, prove you’ve done not only the reading, but the deductive reasoning. Now go enjoy the long weekend!” I dismissed the class and walked to the desk provided beside my lectern. I was shuffling my notes and speaking to a few students when John approached.

“Wow, Tali,” he breathed, looking me over in my comfy and casual clothes. Skinny jeans, dark band t-shirt, and a loose button down with a pair of knee high boots. My dark red hair piled up on my head in a loose knot, with my much needed glasses covering my strangely light green eyes.

Since he was openly assessing my appearance, I felt free to do the same. John was aging like a fine wine. Salt and pepper hair, rugged scruff hiding a jaw that I knew from the years was this side of chiseled. His hazel eyes crinkling at the corners with amusement, that damn dimple deep in his cheek. And flannel covered henley paired with well worn jeans and a pair of lived in boots. Damn, when did John become so fucking sexy?

“John,” I answered, leaning back in my desk chair. “What brings you around for a visit?” I was smiling, but I had to wonder.

He leaned his hip on the side of my desk. “I’m having some issues with a case, it’s not far away, and I called your dad. He mentioned you wrote your thesis on what I think I’m after-”

“I wrote my thesis on the Barghest,” I said, staring at him. “What would be hard to understand about a huge ass dog who eats people in the dark?” I was testing him, of course, making sure he was certain that was what his case entailed.

“I think we both know there’s more to them than that.” He sighed and ran his left hand through his hair. His wedding ring flashed in the overhead light and I lost the rush of lust had felt when I first saw him. “This thing, it’s searching out a particular type of victim, and it’s attacking-”

“Acts as an death omen first, marking the victim, daring it’s victim to come out and play, and when they do.” I made a chewing motion with my mouth. “The fun things left out of Harry Potter.” I sighed, and closed my eyes, blocking John from my sight. “What do you need to know? Or better yet, what did Dad say I could offer?”

I heard him chuckle. “For one, is there a way to stop it, without being given the omen of death?” I nodded, and he went on. “What is it? And your dad said you are a font of information on all kinds of rare shit, darlin’.”

I rolled my closed eyes. “You stop it by hunting it without actually crossing its path.” I heard him writing my words down, so apparently he had a journal with him. Good student. “Don’t cross its path by getting behind it, of course. Killing it? That’s a little more difficult. Here’s the ingredients, and how to put it together, don’t fuck it up, John. I’d hate for the boys to end up without you.” I rattled off the weapon and the ingredients that it had to be soaked in, the order, the time frame. “So take that, get behind it, and aim for the back of the neck. Not the heart, not the head, the back of the neck.” I opened my eyes to him watching me. “What?”

He shook his head, but when he spoke his voice was deeper and huskier. If I didn’t know any better- “Nothin’.” He put the tattered journal in a pocket of his jacket that I hadn’t noticed before, that was laying on the top of my desk. “What do I owe you for the information, Tali?” I smiled. “Free of charge. It’s something I can give even if I turned my back on the ‘family business’.” I leaned forward to finish packing my notes away in my leather messenger back. “Be safe, John.” I was dismissing him, just like I did my students.

“Let me take you out to dinner.” His offer startled me. “Least I could do, and I do have to soak the weapon at least overnight.” He stood silent, waiting for my answer.

And a stalemate ensued. I contemplated all the reasons I could give to not accept. How could I explain that dinner would be a terrible idea, since apparently he was sex on a stick and still hooked on his dead wife, or remarried for all I knew? “I think that’s a bad idea.” I said instead, the pregnant pause finally killing me. “Papers to grade.” Netflix to watch, food to nuke I included silently.

“Thought you said there’s a long weekend?” He replied, raising his eyebrow in challenge.

Well, fuck, Tali. He actually paid attention to the end of class. Shit. “Yeah, it is, but I have other classes, other papers. Can’t get behind, you know.”

He chuckled. “Still gotta eat, right?” I shrugged. “So eat with me. I promise to get you home as quickly as possible.” He put his left hand over his heart in pledge, and that ring flashed again.

I swallowed. It was dinner. Nothing more. And I was a grown ass woman, with a fucking PhD after all. It wasn’t like he was flirting. He just wanted to have company for dinner. “Sure.” I answered, pushing the last of my notes in my bag. I scribbled my cell number on a Post-It note and handed it to him. “Call me when you’ve gotten the weapon ready for its marinade, I’ll give you my address then.” I stood and yanked my bag across my body. “See you later, John.” I tossed my parting over my shoulder, hoping I wouldn’t regret agreeing.

 HOURS LATER~ COMING HOME FROM DINNER

We were both laughing. I had told John about a really strange spell a witch had cast on my parents when I was a teenager, and while mortified at the time, found it funnier later on.

“So I walk into my house after school, and there they are, tearing their clothes off on our dining room table.” I closed my eyes and tried to calm my giggles to finish. “Like fucking teenagers, horny, gross parent aged teenagers.” His laughter was contagious. “I couldn’t eat in the dining room until I came back last Thanksgiving.” I gave a dramatic shudder.

John was walking me to the door of my house, and his chuckles were more free than they’d been when we first saw one another in my class. His hand rested on the small of my back, like a gentleman seeing a lady home. “God, I’m gonna have to riff him about that the next time I see him.” We reached my door and I pulled my keys free from my pocket. “Guess I should-”

I shook my head as I opened the door. “By my estimation that blade needs another twelve hours to soak.” I said, squinting in remembrance of the instruction I gave him. “Come in and have a cup of something-” He chuckled again, “I don’t drink coffee, but I have some instant, just in case.” I shrugged, and he nodded his agreement.

Over the threshold, I moved further into the house, listening as John shut and locked my door. I made my way to the kitchen, yelling back for him to make himself at home. I tossed my jacket and keys on the counter in the kitchen and made peace with John checking over the house. He’s a hunter, so I knew he was looking around with curiosity. He’d be checking entrances, exits, and probably just looking around to see what kind of research material I had on hand. I made a cup of instant coffee, heating the water in the microwave as I grabbed a glass and filled it with ice for a glass of soda.

When I walked out to the living room, John was sitting on the sofa. He’d tossed his jacket onto the wingback chair, and he looked comfortable. It was almost unnerving how comfortable he looked in my space. “I hope I made this right,” I offered him the coffee cup and sat down with my feet tucked under me on the other side of the sofa. Taking a sip of my soda, I sat it down on the coffee table and sat back. “Why aren’t Dean and Sam with you?” I asked, burning with interest since I saw him all alone in my classroom, but waiting until we were in a more private setting than the college or dinner afforded.

John took an appreciative sip of his own drink. “Not bad, Tali.” He mirrored my move and sat his own cup on the table in front of us and looked over at me. “Dean’s on his own hunt, with Bobby. Sam, well Sam’s away at Stanford.” I raised an eyebrow, surprised not by Sam’s aspirations, but because John entertained them. “It wasn’t pretty when he asked to go, not by a long shot, but I guess seeing you, here, outside of the business makes it more understandable.”

I nodded and asked the next obvious question. “What’s he studying?” I sank into the cushions of my sofa and studied him as he answered.

“Law,” he chuckled. “Might come in handy, especially where Dean’s concerned.”

I gave my own muffled laugh. “Guessing Dean hasn’t gotten his crap together yet?” I reached for my soda and felt John’s eyes on my every movement. Taking another sip, I chose to keep the glass in my hands. “I got lucky, I guess. Studying lore and history, that made it simple to move on from the family business, but still be able to help.” I sighed, and leaned back. “Keeps me from feeling too guilty for taking my parents up on the offer to choose myself over the greater good.”

John’s gaze hadn’t left me. “You shouldn’t feel guilty at all. Even if you’d chosen some other path.” He offered his own sigh and reached for his coffee cup. “The longer I do this, the more I realize that I’ve been an asshole for making the boys follow me.”

I scoffed. “Dean idolizes you, John. He has since the first time I can remember your visits fully.” I thought back to the golden haired boy and how his green eyes were always watching his Dad, mimicking his posture, his gestures. “In fact, I bet I could tell you what he’s wearing just by what you are.”

John raised an eyebrow. “Paid a lot of attention to my boy, did you?” I bit my lip and laughed at his expression.

“We’re the same age,” I shrugged. “Since you and Mom and Dad insisted that we socialize, it was hard NOT to pay attention to Dean.” I thought back to Dean’s not so subtle attempt, when I was sixteen, to try to get in my panties. “He was a bit much, if you know what I mean?”

It was his turn to laugh. “That’s Dean, alright.” He glanced over at me as he took another drink of coffee. “So did you two-”

I nearly spit out the drink I had just taken of my soda. Coughing, and trying to swallow around the shock of that implied thought, I took a moment to calm my shock. “NO.” I answered, loud enough that he knew how wrong the very idea of Dean and me was. “We didn’t have ANYTHING, John.”

His laughter shook my end of the sofa. I glared over at him, daring him to make me choke on the sip I was taking. “Sorry, honey, it’s just your face when I asked. It’s one of the few times I’ve seen a girl your age act like Dean was the plague.”

Girl my age? I snorted, having swallowed my drink. “Girl?” I raised an eyebrow at the older man. “I’m nearly thirty. Then again, a man YOUR age, isn’t that when the memory goes?”

It was his turn to choke on his drink. He sputtered and I giggled, watching him glare at me. “You insinuating that I’m old, little girl?” The tone he was using was dangerously low, but instead of frightening me, I felt a twist of lust building.

I shrugged. “You’re insisting I’m a little girl, aren’t you?” I smirked at him as he put his cup carefully on the coffee table.

“I might have to prove just how good my memory is,” he took my glass from me and sat it carefully down too. “Like,” he moved closer so I could feel the heat from his body. “The last time I saw you, you’d just turned sixteen. You came down the stairs wearing that little sundress with cherry blossoms all over it.” He leaned in, his nose sliding along my jaw. “And your perfume smelled like vanilla and cherry mixed together.” I felt his lips ghosting over my neck, not touching, not yet. “I remember that scent, because you hugged me and told me how happy you were to see me again. Not Dean, not Sam, but me.” His lips brushed against my pulse. “I knew at that moment, you’d be the ruin of me, Tali.”

I turned, and his lips found mine. I moaned into his kiss, feeling like I was on fire. His hands gripped my hips and pulled me from my seat and over onto his lap. Straddling him, I let my fingers slide through his hair. The stubble on his face was gloriously rough and burning against my skin. One of his hands gripped my waist the other pressed into my back, pressing me tight against his chest. My hips rocked against him, feeling his arousal grow.

Breaking the kiss, our faces inches apart, breath mingling, I could see how dark his eyes were. His chuckle rocked through me, and I smiled. “My ruin,” he muttered, standing up with me locked in his arms. Before I could point in the direction of my bedroom, he’d pressed me against the nearest bare wall. My legs wrapped around his hips as his lips found my neck. His body was hard against mine, and I moaned as he nipped the curve where my neck met my shoulder. “Fuck, Tali, we’re not even naked and I swear you feel like fire.” I rocked into his hardness and he groaned.

“It’s not that I,” I had to stop when he sucked at my pulsepoint to gather my wits to continue my thought. “Not that I don’t love how this feels.” Another roll of my hips and he growled into my skin again. “But my bed is right there.” I tilted my head toward the hallway next to us. I felt the curve of his lips against my flushed skin.

“I’ve held back for so fuckin’ long, baby girl,” his mouth was hot against the skin he could taste. His hips thrust into my covered need. “If you insist on a bed, though,” he sighed, “then my princess gets what she wants.” He carried me down the hallway and through the open door of my bedroom.

My fingers reached out and flicked on the lightswitch that controlled my side table lamps. Soft light filled the room as John’s mouth claimed mine again. I felt him lower me to my feet, but then it was a rush of clothes falling, mouths, tongues, and teeth tasting and kissing exposed skin. Fingers brushing against skin, mine teasing the muscles roped through his body, his the softness of my curves.

My eyes drunk him in as he lowered me onto my bed. He was gorgeous, sexy and being far more sensual than the wall fuck he’d been going for earlier. As his lips met my breast, I gasped and arched upward toward his mouth. His tongue flicked against my nipple and my fingers gripped his head. “You taste so fucking good, darlin’.” His breath fanned against my skin, and I felt a tightening in my stomach. “God, there’s so much I want with you. So much I want to do-”

I pulled his hair, drawing him up so he was hovering over me, face to face. “Kiss me, John.” And he did as my legs wrapped around his hips and forced him to lower further into me. “I can’t wait. Don’t make me wait,” I pleaded, and he took the demand in stride. He nodded, his forehead against mine. “Later, then,” he promised, himself and me. Then his hips lurched against me, our bodies joining FINALLY as though I were made for him. “Oh, Tali,” he moaned as I rolled my hips against him. “That feels-” And then words stopped, everything stopped except for him and me. Our bodies took over. Clutching one another, as though there shouldn’t even be air between us. His thrusts, my rocking hips, sweat and moans. Everything crashing over us all at once. Not overwhelming, not splintering our focus, just keeping us going and going.

It could have been seconds, minutes, or even hours, but we both felt the climb begin. The feeling that started when he whispered his memory of me, the feeling of our lips touching for the first time, the feeling of everything coming together exactly how it was supposed to. And then fire and stars and explosions. I’d always thought that was ridiculous writers imagining what sex and love were, but then I had it. And all I could think, as we held each other in the aftermath was how much I wanted it over and over.

We had the entire night, and John and I made sure we took advantage of the hours. We tasted one another, dipping back to foreplay once we’d recovered from our first round, then more and more and more. We finally fell exhausted in a tangle of limbs and kisses mere hours before dawn.

I didn’t expect him to be beside me when I woke. He had a job to do, after all, but I was surprised by the note. The promise of his return after the hunt. And when he followed through I nearly exploded by the mere sight of him at the front door. We had the entire weekend. Two full days, and three explosive nights before he had to go. This time I saw him off, kissed him goodbye and had another promise from him. That he’d be back. He had to, he swore, because having the nights we’d stolen weren’t enough. For him or for me.

 Months passed. He’d text or call. And then nothing. No texts, no calls. His voicemail, when I bothered to call, advised to contact Dean if there was a problem. I didn’t worry. I understood how hunters lived. I knew that they lived hard and on the go. I knew that he’d come back, call again, text again when he could.

I was in my classroom giving another lecture when I looked up and saw Dean sitting with Sam in almost the exact same place their father had sat. My heart clenched. They wouldn’t be here, Sam wouldn’t be here if it were good news. I managed, through sheer force of will and the fact that my lectures were practically memorized by now, to finish the class. I barely noticed the other students file out, I had eyes only on the two Winchesters.

“Tali,” Sam greeted me, smiling the same awkward smile I remembered from our youth. “You look right at home at that lectern.” Dean's eyes were burning into me. “Have you heard from Dad?” That was Dean, not an ounce of tact in his entire body.

“Not for a couple of months,” I answered, smiling and moving back to my desk. Feelings of deja vu washed over me as I pulled my notes into a tidy pile. “Why? What’s wrong?”

Sam sighed, running a hand through his hair, so reminiscent of his dad. “He’s missing in action, Tal.” He looked down at me. “We found the last hotel room he was staying in and you were mentioned in his journal.”

Ah, yeah, the work I helped him with. “Yeah, he came to me about a Barghest. I helped him with the right weapon and the right place to shove it in to kill it.” Shrugging, hoping that was all that John put in his journal, I glanced at Dean.

“He mentioned that, and also,” he pulled the battered journal I’d watched John tuck into his jacket in this very room. I saw a sticky note with my phone number on it in my writing. “Her eyes are still so light that they look straight through me, and those lips-”

I stopped them with a raised hand and felt my face blush. “Yeah, about that.” I swallowed hard and looked up to two far too interested Winchesters. “Look, John and I, we had a-” World changing connection that I hoped would turn into something, but he’s a hunter and I’m a professor. We settled for a weekend of passion and love, and now he’s gone? Yeah, try harder. “We made the most of a long weekend.” That damn blush was so hot I felt like I was on fire. “I haven’t heard from him in a month or so.”

Dean was looking at me like I’d grown fangs, or another head. “Our DAD?” He also looked a tad green around his gills. “You and Dad?” He tried to wrap his head around it, but shook it off. “And he stayed in touch?”

“Yeah, we’d text and call almost daily.” I said, putting my papers away, feeling my shame die out. What the hell? I loved John, there wasn’t anything wrong with that. “Unless he was in the middle of a hunt. That was the last text I got, actually.” I pulled my phone out of my pocket and opened up my messages. Clicking on John’s number I pulled it up. Handing it over to Sam, I finished gathering my stuff together.

Sam read the last message, respecting my privacy, but Dean took a turn and I saw a swipe. “Hey!” I admonished. “You never swipe another person’s phone,” I yanked it from his hand, and put it back in my pocket. “The last message was the only one you needed to see.”

Dean was licking his lips, fuck, I knew exacty which text he saw. “Well, we need to be thorough. Dad’s missing after all.”

I glared up at him. “Sure.” I brushed past them, and shook my head again. “Well, now what you’ve been THOROUGH, you know I don’t know where he is.” I waved a hand to show them I was finished with the conversation.

Of course they weren’t. I’d barely gotten comfortable at home when I heard the knock. Fuck. Opening the door, there they stood. “What now?” I asked, exasperated. “You saw what you saw. I don’t know anything else.”

Dean pushed past me into the house, Sam waited to be invited. Rolling my eyes I gestured for him to come in too. We stood awkwardly in my entryway. I waited for one of them to break the silence. Sam was the first.

“Look, Tali, we get that you don’t think you know anything, but you might.” He was trying to calm my irritation down. Irritation and worry. Worry that John was hurt or worse. “Can we sit?”

I nodded and walked them into my living room. I took the chair and they sat on the sofa. A sofa that months ago John and I had started on. Shaking the image away, I considered all the talks and texts we’d shared. Nothing strange or concerning came to mind. “I’m sorry, John and I, we were talking normal hunting research, when we discussed it.” I refused to blush again. “He mentioned only that he might be out of touch for a while, but not where he was going. And then when I felt that too much time had passed, I tried to call, but-”

“You were told to call me,” Dean finished. “Why didn’t you?” He sounded almost accusatory.

“Because,” I sighed. “I figured that maybe John started to regret it. Us. Me.” I looked up and saw that he was uncomfortable. “If there’s one thing I’m not, Dean, it’s a clingy ex.”

“You said you talked about normal hunting research,” Sam picked up the conversation. “Do you remember what cases?”

I nodded and went to the desk in the corner of the room. “I keep records of all of those types of things. I help a lot of hunters with the more obscure demons and do bads.” I grabbed my planner. Flipping back to the first day we’d met at the college, I handed it over to Sam. “It starts there,” I used my finger to point out the shorthand I used for John, “and if you flip through it, you’ll see when and where he called from, and what hunt he’d discussed.” I sat back down as they flipped through it. “Not every contact is in there, since not all of them were work related.”

Sam nodded, but Dean’s mood seemed to grow worse. “Do you have a calendar to keep track of those too?” He snarked. I glared at him and shook my head. “Isn’t that disappointing.”

I snorted at his demeanor. “It wouldn’t help you find him. They overlapped. Usually it was a call before he got the next case, and a call after to make sure I knew he was safe.” I raised an eyebrow to match the one he had, daring him to make another comment. “Can I keep this?” Sam asked, drawing my attention back to him. “Or copy it?”

“You can copy it, but I have to keep it. John isn’t the only hunter that I help with research. That’s the record I use to keep track of it.” He nodded. “If you follow me back to campus, I can get you one, or if you want me to, I guess I could scan it here and give you those copies?”

“Email it,” Sam offered, and I took the planner back and moved back to my desk to start. I hadn’t realized he’d followed me until I felt him sit in my chair. “Was he happy?” His voice was quiet, and I knew that Dean was still on the sofa.

“Yeah, he was.” I smiled, remembering how playful John had been when I’d said goodbye on my porch. “He was also coming to terms with your future, though it would seem that’s on hold now?”

He swallowed and I finally realized how tired he looked. “Something like that.” He glanced up at me and I saw such pain. “I just really need to find him, Tali. We both do.”

“I hope this helps then,” I said, as the last page scanned. “Here,” I unlocked my desktop and opened my email. “Just type in your email, and the pages are there,” I pointed at the icon. I turned back to see that Dean was still watching us, me. I sighed. Then I went back to the chair I’d taken when we got to the room. “What happened to him?” I asked, almost whispering, and gesturing with my head at Sam.

“The same thing that happened to Mom.” He barely moved his lips and I closed my eyes. “I don’t understand you and Dad, but we have to find him, Tali.”

I nodded. “You’ll have the pages, and I’ll make some calls.” I offered, knowing that the Winchesters would always be surrounded by pain and death. I just hoped that John wasn’t a fatality already. “I’ll let you know if I learn anything.”

Sam was back and they finally left after I assured them one more time that I’d try to learn something for them. My back was pressed to the closed front door as I listened to them walk down the steps. I felt the tears that I had been feeling build since I saw the two of them at the top of my classroom finally break free. Sobbing, I had to hope that John was alright, that he would be found. That he’d come back to me.

[diningpageantry]

Drinking

Archive Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18672919/chapters/45163501

Chapter 6/13 of Proximity (The Collision of Lonely Men)

Word Count: 4483

Chapter Summary: Excuses, longing, and the bitter bite of impulsive actions can turn a happy night sour.

By now, I think I've finally got my daily schedule down. Sure, it's the middle of December, but at least it's done.

I wake up, grab breakfast from the kitchen, eat in my office, fuck around on my computer, maybe see a student or two (if needed), eat lunch, fuck around more, then go grab dinner. Easy. Work day complete.

What's odd today, though, is the unusual knock at my door around 12:30. Typically, students avoid the office like the plague in their study hour, but not long after I'd sat back in my seat did I hear footsteps. They've stopped now, and the soft rap at my door gives me a somewhat pleasant surprise. It isn't often people are personable enough to not barge in.

“Come in,” I call, clicking out of Solitaire.

A student steps in. They're maybe 10th year, a little on the shorter side, and with shaggy hair down to their shoulders. Immediately, there's a wave of discomfort--more than that of a typical young teen. Awkward. Out of place. “Hello, um. Mr… Mr. Snow? Is it?”

“Yes, it is,” I hum, swiveling my chair around and gesturing towards the couch. I reach around as they walk, grabbing for my notepad and pen. “What can I do for you?”

They sit for a minute, eyes towards the now-closed door as they just think distantly. Something in it makes me swallow back my expectations, settling down my stuff and folding my hands. I inhale slowly, exhaling as I follow their attention.

Their eyes are laying on my Safe Spaces sign. A printed, colourful paper that Baz had offered me when I'd asked why some teachers had it hanging. It isn't much--not really grand or showy, just simple. Thoughtful.

By the time I'm looking back, they're already crying. Their lip trembles as their hands clench. “I, uh,” they start, nearly silent. “I think I might be, uhm… a… well... I want my gender and name changed in the books.”

It’s a shock at first, and I try to think over how to react beyond nodding and completely setting aside my notepad and pen as I lean back in my seat. I wave a hand, letting them nervously stare at me before continuing, exhaling.

“I'm sorry. I… I didn't know where else to start with this. It all started really coming to me over the summer and hearing my name all year has just been a kick in the face, a-and with winter break coming up, I don't know what will happen when I get back. My mum and dad know, and they booked an appointment with a gender therapist when I'm home, but, I, well… I don't want to come back and be seen as… you know… a boy.”

It takes me a second to think of the proper answer, head nodding. Where do I start? Dress code questions? Name change? Then, I figure that it’s really the student's call. “What do you want me to help you with? I'm here to help as much as you want me to.”

The student exhales, chewing on her lip as she looks down. “Can you change my birth name in my books to Amanda?” She gives me her name, letting me pick up my notes and jot it down. “I'll be emailing teacher during break, it's just in case, but it’d be great if they got an official-looking email. And, erm, what can I wear?”

I bite my lip, exhaling. “Given it's a historically ‘all boys’ school, there's no assigned skirts or dresses, if that's what you're referring to.”

She nods, shifting in her seat as the leather squeaks below her.

“Right, well. I can talk to the dean about an exemption case. There's a few trans and gender nonconforming students who have gotten permission, which is sadly needed, but they're relatively liberal when it comes to the clothing change. With that said, there's no guarantee there won't be backlash from your peers.”

She pushes her hair away, eyes not moving from the ground as she goes silent for a minute.

I purse my lips, thinking over the situation. “Can I get you in contact with an adult who can really help you there? I can't promise he's the most cheery of blokes, but he's nicer than you'd think when it comes to this.”

She seems a bit confused, but nods anyway.

After giving her a quick, (hopefully) promising smile, I swivel back around and glance at my phone. The number log takes me a second, but I eventually find the right room.

It rings once before an answer comes through, clear as day.

“Professor Pitch speaking.”

“Hi, Baz? It's Simon. I have a student who might need a little help, do you have a minute to spare?”

He goes silent for a second. “I'm not teaching a student how to use proper grammar, Snow. If anyone needs a lesson on their elocution and voice, it's you.”

“Not that sort of help, you tit. A different kind of help.”

He's silent again before I can practically feel it click. “Send the student down, then.”

I thank him (with no reply) before hanging up and writing out a paper pass for Baz's room, handing it over and telling her the room.

“Of course we of can meet again after break to finalize everything and make sure we have the proper paperwork after we've contacted your teachers, but this is what we can do as of right now. Oh, and don't let Professor Pitch scare you. His bark is much worse than his bite.”

She nods hesitantly, looking confused as she thanks me nonetheless and leaves, closing the door softly behind her.

I study the wood grain of it for a minute, exhaling slowly before going back to working. Our conversation keeps in the back of my mind as I type away. I don’t think about it much beyond making the note and starting the permission form, not expecting another knock at my door just over half an hour later.

This time, it's Baz at my door, letting himself in before I get an opportunity to tell him to come in.

He stops at the doorway, glancing around for what must be the first time. I listen to the soft clank of the rattling door knob being let go as he drops it, focusing on holding the wood of the door. My lips loosely smile, heart feeling full as I exhale. “You alright, mate?

His head shakes as he snaps back, looking at me with wide eyes and a hesitantly hanging mouth. I want to do his eyebrow thing, but I don't quite know how.

“Yes?”

“I… do you want to go get drinks later? My treat.”

I'm stunned by his sudden offer, blinking curiously as my mouth turns to an unsure frown. He continues, trying to cover his words.

“No. I--fuck off. it's to thank you for that. You handled that really well, for someone who hasn’t quite been trained, and I wanted to say something for that.”

My chair swivels a bit as I turn my hips, looking up at him. “Sounds like you just want an opportunity to get off campus.”

He smirks an odd, mischievous smirk. One that seems like it’d get us into trouble if it was verbalized. “Maybe it's just to go out and get a little drunk.” I can’t quite argue with that logic (especially if it includes free booze).

I stare at his ridiculous face, clicking my pen a few times as I think it over. Sort of want to mock him like he’s an alcoholic, but it also seems like he’s only truly personable when he’s drinking. “Fuck it, yeah let’s do drinks. Six-ish?”

“What, so you can eat the shitty cafeteria foods?”

“Maybe.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes and over-exaggeratedly setting his shoulders. “Fine then, six works.”

I grin, sweetly telling him to close the fucking door behind him as he leaves, ignoring the gentle thrum of that re-occurring odd feeling pressed to my rib cage. In so many ways, it hasn’t truly left. Not since that night we’d held hands. It’s a catching, curiosity feeling, making me numbed any time that we don’t have that contact (which, now, is almost always, except for the occasional mistaken brush of our passing arms).

I wish I could tell him I want it. It feels too needy, too out of character for us to be blunt of our feelings. I’m cautious, and he’s not too caring. Far too bitter, far too rough. We’re mild turbulence on an unwanted jet ride, at best.

After that encounter, I can’t quite focus. I’ve been scraping by at the minimum of getting a few things wrapped up, and managing through menial, thoughtless work. Still, it all falls into a blur. A Baz-centric, ever-losing blur. Even through dinner, that weird enthusiasm from before sort of falls flat in my own mind. Like I’m trying to compensate for my own excitement.

What does keep me afloat is Penny’s rambling commentary as I shove bread into my mouth. I really do adore the fact that I almost never need to talk, she just keeps the conversation afloat herself. Long, winding stories of class, or telling me about the book she’s reading (and whether she likes it or not, judging by her women’s empowerment scale). All I’ve ever got to give is quick answers, nodding my head as she goes along.

During dinner, we agree to go do something before winter break, since she’s going off to see her fiancé over the few weeks.

I can’t help but steal quick glances across to Baz’s lone table. It’s starkly empty in contrast to everyone else, and I can’t help but wonder how lonely he truly is.

Penny and I finish up a little bit after him, cleaning up and walking side-by-side back to the dorms before parting ways. I struggle with the keys, as always, and while I don’t see him in the living room right away, I hear the running of the sink from our bathroom. It leaves my cheeks a light pink for no good reason besides knowing he’s in there getting ready for a night.

Looking in my closet, it dawns on me that I don’t really have anything “nice” to wear. While yes, sure it’s just drinks, but that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t look any less plain than I usually do. I manage to find one good button down in a dark grey, and decent black trousers, and nothing like a blazer to compliment so this is as good as it’s going to get.

I don’t need to check my mobile’s weather to figure that it’s going to be an absolute fucking freezing nightmare tonight.

Digging around a bit, I find my old leather coat and my least-scuffed up shoes to really tie together the “I’m not exactly shitty looking, but I’m damn well not anything good”. Hell, to make it a little better, I even fix my hair before stepping out into the living room.

Baz is already in there, fixing the cuffs to his sleeves.

I don’t want to say this lightly, but he looks bloody fucking stunning (not in some odd “rip off my clothes now” way, but in a magazine cover way). A lavender shirt, tucked into deep blue trousers and a black floral embroidered jacket. The white, light pink, and purple stitching hike up his breast pocket and wrists, traveling across his width and barely letting my attention slowly track back up to his face. It’s nearly buffed from being washed, and his hair’s pushed back without being fully slicked. I can already see the slight wave in it, pushing into the nape of his neck as he turns and looks towards me.

We catch each other’s shocked stares, and I try to desperately ignore the grin on my own mug as we gawk openly towards one another. Lingering for the moment, we awkwardly wait out the moment before one of us turns our attention away. I shuffle a bit, weight shifting from here to there as he keeps rim-rod straight. It’s hard to find the words, but I finally speak out into the distant space between us. (Far too distant. We’re always so far apart). “Are we off, then?”

He blinks at first, looking me up and down before pulling back at his sleeve for a time check. “Yes.” It comes out forced, dropping an octave from his usual voice. Makes my heart jump.

On the walk out, we aren’t looking at one another anymore. In fact, if feels like we’re looking anywhere but. The ground, our feet, our hands, the sky. Buildings passing, sidewalks curving. The world around us, leaving us to feel so distant from one another at just an arm’s reach away.

“Are you against walking?” I ask, halfway down the pavement and towards the employee parking lot. “I’d rather not drive if we’re drinking.”

He nods, biting off any snippy comments as we stroll. We’re always this space between our steps--our shoes almost brushing each end of the walkway squares. An empty reach between us.

It’s awkward. I’m awkward. I am seethingly awkward, uncomfortably trying to make gentle comments between us in efforts to resuscitate the moment we could be have. “Thank fuck it isn’t snowing, huh?”

He looks at me, eyes shining lighter in the harsh street lights as they flicker overhead. No comment.

“I mean, icy roads and shit. I’d always be worried I’d slip and fall on my bum as a kid, so I’d shuffle my feet while leaning forward to get around, like a penguin.”

Finally, I get a snort out of him.

“You’re ridiculous.”

It’s not harsh. It’s actually borderline soft--a child’s scissors sort of comment. It makes my lips start to part into a smile, unconsciously walking a bit closer. He doesn’t even do as much as pull his arms into himself, walking with the same outward rigidity as before (a step up, perhaps).

“Suppose I was. Maybe that’s why the other kids would push me into the ice anyway.”

He laughs at that, eyes forward as his elbows lift outward from his pockets. I hadn’t realized how close I’d drifted, since his arm bumps into my side harmlessly. I smile, joining him in a simple, quiet laugh beside him.

The town isn’t incredibly far off the school, and the bar isn’t ridiculously busy either. Granted, we’re a bit before the usual work let out on a Friday. The benefits of the schedule, I assume.

At first, I don’t know what I’m expecting. I knew there was a decent place in town with live music, and then a cheap pub nearby. But Baz has never seemed to be one for the easier, quicker option, which is probably what wound us up sitting by a live jazz performance. He’s sipping scotch and I’m practically tossing back a gin and tonic as we lean across a table that’s no bigger than our combined laps, trying to hear one another speak.

“My half sister’s still a nightmare to shop for,” Baz’s thought finishes between songs, the music calming enough that we don’t shout. The story of his youth drifts between the long sip of his drink, phasing him into a new conversation. “It took me months to find the proper Christmas gift for her. Granted, she’s a teen now, so it was easier to narrow down rather than the thousands of things she absolutely ‘needed’ when she was younger.”

I nod along, clueless to the dynamic in personal experience, but engaged to hear how it works. As the music starts picking back up, I lean in closer to hear, my hand brushing his arm.

It doesn’t move.

“Are you visiting your family this holiday? Or someone special?”

He dismissed the latter, nodding his head casually while his drink settles down. My hand’s still there, resting warmly on his arm. “I’m going back to my family’s estate further south. My siblings threw a fit the last time I couldn’t make it, and they’d have my head if I didn’t come this year. It’s awfully lonesome down there, though--empty halls, echoing rooms. I feel bloody Victorian in that house. As if I should be having a dramatic, Wilde-esque affair.”

I watch as he trails off, eyes drifting to the wood floors of the stage. They’re worn in--timeless. His childhood seems to have the same impact on him as history does on the floorboards.

Between the distracting brush of his leg against my calf, and the second drink I’m nursing, it takes me a shrug and a half second thought to remember what my actual plans are. “‘M planning staying here,” I mumble, sipping away. His foot stops moving up, pausing right near my knee as his attention flicks back at my hand, tracing my knuckles tentatively.

“What, at school?”

I nod, bottom lip pressing wetly against the glass. My breath fills out around the rim, making it all foggy as I drink. “Nowhere else, really. Don’t really have anywhere to stay in London, or anyone to see. ‘M much happier alone here than alone somewhere crowded.”

If I didn’t know him better, I’d say he looks sad. But, I do know him. I know him too well.

I know him well enough that a quick steer away conversation will clear it all, as much as it breaks my heart to change where we’re going with this.

“Tell me more about the estate,” I mock, lips turning up as I tease happily. He takes it in stride, tongue running over his bottom lip before he speaks again.

We stay like that--mindless conversation. He keeps the drinks flowing, and I keep my hand on his arm. It’s cozy there, and when I move to his fingers, I find that they’re bitterly cold. The only real answer here is to warm them with my own, pressing out hands together and holding his to my skin. No protests from him, only a compliant raise of his eyebrows towards me.

Still, I make no move to look back.

It’s a good bit of night later before I start feeling too dizzy to safely go on without getting completely wrecked. It’s never good to walk back to your work’s campus while you’re piss drunk, even if it’s not a school night. “How’re you feeling?”

“Probably better than you, Snow.”

“Are you?”

He grins, and in the diluted bar-light, it looks like he’s happy for once in his life. His eyes droop, his cheeks press outwards and glow in the deepest of pink lights. I want to see if they’re really a smooth as I think they are.

“Not quite sober, sure,” he mumbles, the grey in his eyes standing out in the glossy light. “But I feel like you’re gonna need some help getting up.”

I want to protest, but I know my knees will be a bit wobbly (and so will my legs. And arms. Fuck it, a lot of me). I shrug shamefully, biting back my pride with a quiet “I won’t let go if you won’t.”

His fingers curl tighter around my wrist, the few resting on the flat of my skin and rubbing up and down the protruding vein. It’s familiarly soft in such a new, exciting way.

He picks up the tab, sliding his card in carelessly and waiting for second that he gets it back before we head off. He helps me with my jacket, and I help him with his, thoughtfully sliding my hand back down against his. His skin’s much warmer now, and I can’t help but slot my fingers around his and press against the sparse hair on the back of his hand.

We walk side by side now, arms twisted around each other to hold our hands as closely as possible. It isn’t long, though, before I nearly trip over uneven ground and he lets go of my hand. I almost protest, missing the feeling of his body against mine until the weight of his arm pulls around my back and side, palm slipping under my jacket and pressing to the side of my shirt. I turn into him, shoulder slipping under his as my hand finds its place snugly against the curve of his back. He leans, head unwavering but body falling into place with mine. It’s almost like hugging while standing; walking while sharing space.

As if it makes up for all the distance since last month.

We stay stuck to one another all the way to the dorms. He even reaches around himself for the key, leaned up against me as his keys scrape into the lock. It turns quietly as a slow winding click lets us in.

I don’t let go until we’re outside our rooms, sides pressed to the wall like we were all those weeks ago. The time between then and now both feels like an eternity and like we’d never left.

Something it that time’s changed. He’s even more smoothed out than before. The gentle slope of his lips, the heavy blinks in his eyes, the lack of crease brows. Even his hair is falling into his face, coming down in soft, waving piece and covering his eyes. Makes it difficult to see him clearly.

I don’t think before reaching up, looping my finger around it before carefully tucking it behind his ear. His face gets all funny, and I take a second to process that the reaction is a smile.

Is this where I thank him for the night? Our extended moment of closeness before it’s all rushed away again? In our moment of weakness, how do I allow myself to be that of less composure?

I wonder whether or not it’s the smile that’s getting me more drunk than the liquor, because it’s giving me a ton of funny ideas that all boil down to my lips going somewhere on his skin. The first reasonable place being the cheek I’d just exposed.

So, I lean up, filling the gap between us and pressing a lightly open-mouthed kiss to the curve of his cheek. He stiffens slightly, arms leaving his sides as I linger against him. His skin’s as smooth as I’d imagined, smelling faintly of aftershave and booze. As my mouth drags away, barely parting from him, I exhale a sigh of relief as his hands find themselves on each side of my torso. I grin, eyes falling onto the corner bit of his lip. It’s so close, and incredibly welcoming.

It doesn’t take me any thinking before my lips are there, too. They stay, feeling his head turn with mine as I part back away. I can’t bring myself to look into his eyes, scared of literally any reaction he could have. But he’s turned into me, head tilted at just the right angle that I can brush my lips onto his.

The moment I see his mouth part, my eyelashes flutter shut and I settle our lips together. Almost instantly goes he breathe out onto my cheek, arms winding around my waist.

We keep like that. He’s cooler and sweeter than I’d expected, and I feel like every movement of his is a hesitant, unsure motions. Our noses brush, and our mouths don’t exactly fit like building blocks at first, but when I finally steady my hands onto his chest, he relinquishes all his built up tightness and kisses me like I’m the most precious thing he’s ever held.

I easily get lost in the moment, taking no time to worry about the consequences while we let this go on.

He’s much smarter than me, as per-usual, and stops us once I take a tiny step forward.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” he murmurs against my open lips. I can’t open my eyes. The spinning of the room will make me want to puke.

“I’m pretty damn well sure that I’m kissing you,” I whisper, head dropping slowly and settling against his forehead. I try to will for the touch to give him back to me, but he doesn’t give up whatever it is stopping him.

“Are you really sure you want to be doing that?”

That’s what I break with, a hand racing up and curling into the bottom of his hair. “I’m mostly confident,” I mumble dumbly, pulling him back in.

He takes a second longer to respond, kissing me back carefully. I feel like I’m unreal, and if he jostles me too hard, I’ll disappear.

My hands curl around his jacket, starting to peel it off his shoulders before he stops me, head shaking and mouth pulling away.

“You’re making a mistake,” he says quietly, making me really open my eyes. He’s going on like he’s pleading with me, swallowing back anything that would get me to stay. “You’ve been drinking, and you’re clearly straight.”

I shrug at the last part. At this point, who knows if I actually am.

Baz scoffs, brows knitting together as it turns to a disgusted sound. There he goes again, closing himself away right before my very eyes. I back up towards my door, frowning and raising my hands up as his arms drop from my sides. Taking another step, I make it very clear that I don’t want him to step closer.

My throat goes tight. My vision spins then shuffles from dark to light. It isn’t the alcohol--it’s the anger. It builds up, making my hands shake and head weave a bit as I mumble an unclear “Fuck you”.

He does nothing to stop me, staring forward with his hands dangling at his sides. It makes it worse, my stomach churning as I fumble and reach for my doorknob, slamming myself inside without another word.

I don’t know how I’m feeling anymore. Am I sobering up on rage? Am I too drunk to actually know what just happened?

My first move is to sit, and then to lay. Then to bite a pillow, fully clothed and fighting off any other reaction including crying, because the walls are surely too thin and Baz doesn’t deserve the satisfaction of knowing I’m crying over his rejection. Fuck it, he isn’t even worth the tears I’d cry nonetheless.

I all culminates to me, breaking, breath sputtering out and making my chest ache until I’m finally asleep.

I wake up mildly hungover, in the clothes I went out in, and missing the feeling of his lips against mine.

In desperate efforts, I step out of my room. I’m disheveled, broken, and ready to be used by a man who already pushed me away before. But instead of my hopeful ending, I step out to an empty flat. His bedroom door hangs open, the bathroom’s silent, and nothing comes from the kitchen and living room. Not even a note.

He’s left me.

[xaphrin]

I’m Worried About You

Part Two

When was the last time you ate?

Raven looked down at the text message and let go of a long sigh that practically rattled her lungs, before shoving the phone back into her coat pocket. The last thing she needed was Dick being a nosy asshole, and she knew exactly what that question meant. It meant he was trying to find a way to “fix” her problems - to make everything alright. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted to be alright, given the circumstances.

She didn’t know if she was capable of being alright.

She leaned back in her chair, tipping her head up to stare at the ceiling. Maybe this would be better if she didn’t feel anything at all. She was pretty sure not feeling was a thing she could still do. Taking a long sip of her coffee, Raven’s fingers feathered along the rough edges of her hair, now cropped to a pixie. It was an impulse decision, another one added to a long list of impulse decisions she had made in the last few months, which included (but not limited to) a tattoo, three piercings, dance lessons, art classes, and a kickboxing membership. Her list was getting out of control, and she needed to find a healthier outlet for her emotions, rather than just do whatever seemed like a good idea at the time.

“You can’t hide from me forever, you know.”

“I wasn’t hiding.” Sort of. She was more just hoping he wouldn’t find her.

Her shoulders sagged, and Raven looked up to see Dick falling into the seat across from her. Of course he would find her. She only went to maybe five places in the whole city. Raven wished her jaket had a hood so she could pull it up at glare at him like she used to. It would have been cathartic at least. Instead, she watched as he motioned the waitress over, ordering enough food to feed the whole restaurant. Raven pursed her lips, but chose not to fight with him. If he wanted to feed her, she wasn’t going to argue. When the waitress finally walked away, he cocked his head to the side and watched her.

“How was dance class?”

Raven lifted her eyebrows. “You’re not going to ask me about my hair?”

“Nope.” He popped the p and grinned at her. “It’s not my hair. Besides, I like it. It’s cute.”

Raven’s face fell. Well, that was almost insulting. She ran her fingers through her hair again and sighed, pushing the locks back and forth against her hand. She was still getting used to the sudden change. “Class was fine.” Shrugging, she met his stare. “I’m getting better. I can almost pirouette without landing on my ass.”

His smile turned soft, tugging to the side. “And art class?”

“Also fine.” Her eyes narrowed and she sat up, leaning over the table. “What is this about, Dick? It better not be an intervention. I’m fine.” She chewed on her lower lip, shifting. “I’m just trying to figure myself out… without… this.” She motioned to the length of her body and looked away. “I just… I need a little more time, I think.”  

“I’m worried about you.” Dick rubbed the back of his neck before looking back at her, sheepish.

He looked cautious, as if he didn’t know how to have a conversation that absolutely needed to be had. Even Raven knew it was a long time coming, she had nothing to do but sit around at the tower and watch the world go by without her. New recruits were being brought in and getting trained, and she knew it was only a matter of time before Raven lost her space there. Of course she was going to love her space there, she was a burden to them now, and had been for the eight months. No money, no powers, no magic - Raven was nothing but a lonely college-aged girl who went to history class and did impulsive things like buy a moped and chop her hair off.

“I’m alright.” She shrugged and took another drink of coffee, hoping Dick didn’t see her shaking. “I made the Dean’s List. So… there’s something.”

“Raven.”

She looked back at him, and could feel the sadness create cracks in her face. He could see through her in an instant, and he knew that she wasn’t the girl he met all those years ago. Before she’d been strong and independent, and she’d been able to help carry the team. But now? Now she relied too heavily on her friends, didn’t know how to help out, didn’t even have powers to try and support them. She just… existed, and it was taking almost too much effort to come to terms with that.

“I… I’m not alright.” Saying it made it real, and Raven pitched forward, burying her head in her hands. “I don’t know what to do with myself. I go to class, I come home. I can’t… I can’t help. I hear the alarms go off, and I know that there’s nothing I can do. I am always sitting by the computer, watching the specs, trying to make sure that all of you are safe. I can’t even run support for you, not like Cy does anyway. I wait every night to hear you come home, and think… what happens if you don’t? What happens if I’m not there to help you or save you?”

“Rae…”

Raven shook her head before looking back up at him. “Dick, you’re all I have here.”

He sighed and reached across the table, settling his hand on hers. His thumb traced the delicate bones of her hand, sliding over her knuckles before he wrapped his fingers around her wrist. “I wish I knew what to say to at least make things a little better for you. I know this is hard, and I wish I could fix it.”

He had no idea how hard it was, and she took a shaking breath, trying to remember to calm her nerves. Emotions didn’t scare her anymore, but she was still trying to keep everything pinned down. Sometimes it was easier to feel nothing, even if she didn’t have to worry about blowing something up.

Finally, she lifted her head up to his, watching the shadows dart in and out of his electric-blue stare. He wanted to say something else, but felt it was better to hold back. Raven winced at that thought. Was it finally time? Was he going to tell her to pack her things and find a place somewhere else to go? She didn’t have anywhere else to go. This… this was all she knew. Azarath was gone, her mother dead, her father locked up for all eternity, and she… she had no powers of her own. Her friends were the only thing that felt like something real and solid in her life, if they went away…  

Dick looked away, his expression tense and unreadable. “I think you need-”

“I can leave by tonight if you need my room.” Her voice didn’t sound like her own, and it was a strange sort of breathy whisper that rattled against her ears. She might have been jumping to conclusions, but it didn’t really matter. She knew the truth. “But… let me at least say goodbye to Gar and Star and Vic. They’re my friends and I love them.” She shifted and pulled her hand back from Dick’s, trying to wind her emotions tighter against her. She could get through this, it would be easy once she pulled the band-aid off. “I think I should have that much at least.”

Dick blinked and looked confused. “What are you talking about?”

“About me leaving.” Raven closed her eyes, taking a shaking breath to calm herself down. She could make new friends and find a new home. She had done it before, and she could do it again if she needed to. “I know that there are a bunch of new recruits, and there’s a lot you have to teach them, and you probably need all the space you can get, and I’m just-”

“Oh my god, will you shut up?” He ran a hand down his face and mumbled a half-hearted curse. “Raven, can you at least let me finish what I was going to say before you start spouting off that kind of nonsense?”

She snapped her mouth shut and felt heat curl up her neck. Honestly, how could she be so stupid and uncontrolled. Emotions were hard, and she was still getting used to having them run as wild as they were. Faux pas like this were going to keep happening if she didn’t get a damn grip on herself. Clearing her throat, she took a long drink of her coffee and looked away, muttering an apology. Just because she didn’t have her powers anymore, it didn’t mean she needed to act like some kind of whiny idiot.

“You’re always going to have a home with us - with me.” Dick sighed and stared at her, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Nothing is going to change that - ever. We’ll always be here to help you. I’ll always be here to help you, powers or no powers. It doesn’t matter. You’re my best friend, Raven. I care about you.”

Raven look a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Even when I’m acting like a complete wanker?”

He rolled his eyes, huffing out an annoyed sigh. “You need to stop talking to Constantine.”  

She shrugged, unapologetic. “He’s still looking at options for me. I can’t stop talking to him until we have something to go off of.”

“I know. I guess it means I get to put up with you picking up his slang until I finally get to get rid of him.” Dick shook his head and leaned forward, his expression softer now. He rested his hand on hers again and looked into her eyes. “Before you lost it for a moment there, I wanted to tell you that I think there’s someone you should meet. I have a friend who… had a similar experience, and I think you two would get along great. And maybe she can help you work through some of… this. This post-puberty-discovering-emotions-for-the-first-time phase you’re in right now.”

Raven’s face fell and she glared at him. “Don’t be an asshole.”

Dick grinned at her, pitching forward. “Yeah? I’m the asshole who just bought you lunch.”

Before Raven could protest, the waitress came back and loaded their table down with so much food Raven thought the legs were going to give out. She watched as Dick’s smile widened and he leaned back in his chair, crossing his arms over his chest and looking rather smug with her. She tried to hold back a laugh, but it still escaped, and the tension in her shoulders released. For the first time in a while she felt… okay. And okay was as good as she could expect right now.

“Now, Missy. You don’t get to leave the table until you clean your plate.”

She glared. “Asshole.”

Dick just laughed and pushed a sandwich in front of her. “Call me all the names you want if it makes you feel better.” He paused and thought for a moment. “Call me a wanker if it makes you feel better. I’ll allow it just for tonight.”

Raven took a cautious bite of the sandwich in front of her, her heart feeling lighter and her appetite finally returning. “And what about tomorrow? What names can I call you tomorrow?”

“I don’t know. Are we on for lunch again tomorrow?”

Something in her heart turned over and she looked at him, lit up by the soft gray light outside and the warm light in the shop. His eyes were trained on her, his smile tilted to the side, his body relaxed and opening, and Raven felt like she was seeing Dick in a way that she had never seen him before. Like she was seeing someone new, and yet somehow familiar. Her stomach tightened and her breath caught in her throat. This was… this was a new feeling. She had felt it before, but it hadn’t felt like… like this. Like something stronger than friendship and different than family.

She kind of… liked it.

“I have class until two.” Raven shrugged and took another bite of her sandwich. “It’s history of the JLA. I can’t miss it.”

Dick laughed. “Okay. Late lunch then. There’s a ramen shop by campus. Let’s meet there at two thirty.”

Raven paused, looked into his eyes, and felt her head nod all on its own. “Okay. Two thirty.”

[thereadingcycle]

Just for a Week (chapter 1)

  Harry watched from across the room as Dean Thomas tucked a piece of fiery red hair behind Ginny Weasley’s ear. She smiled at him and placed a kiss on his cheek. Harry turned away.   It had taken exactly three weeks for Ginny to move on from their relationship. In three weeks, she had managed to get over everything that she and Harry had had over the past year and move on to the next guy, or in this case, return to the previous guy.   It wasn’t like Harry wasn’t happy for them. They were both his friends, and he wasn’t jealous of Dean. The spark between him and Ginny had been gone for a while. Everything had seemed so overwhelming and exciting during the war, but after, it just faded away. Harry and Ginny both knew it wasn’t there anymore, but Harry was content with pretending like they were okay. After all, neither of them had done anything wrong or breakup worthy. Ginny, however, was not a fan of pretending. She’s the one who called it off, but there were no hard feelings. They were better as friends.   So obviously, Harry was happy for them. Dean and Ginny getting back together wasn’t what bothered him; what was bothering him was how pathetic he felt. Ginny had moved on so quickly, and what had Harry done for the past three weeks? He wallowed. He felt sorry for himself. That was what you were supposed to do after a breakup, wasn’t it? He was sad, and he would miss having Ginny around all the time, but to him, the wallowing felt more like going through the motions, and it was pathetic. He could tell his friends looked at him with pity in their eyes. Ron and Hermione were the worst. They didn’t want to make Harry feel bad, so they refused to act like a couple in front of him. Whenever he entered a room, they would jump ten feet apart and turn to him with the same sorry look on their faces. Harry started taking different routes to class just to avoid them.

  His eyes scanned the quiet library until they landed on Draco Malfoy. He was leaning so far over the book at his table, Harry was afraid he might fall into it. His eyebrows were scrunched together in concentration, and he was chewing on his bottom lip. Harry thought it was possibly the most adorable thing he’d ever seen. Then, as if sensing Harry’s eyes on him, Draco looked up from his book. His stormy grey eyes instantly met Harry’s, and he shot him a wink. A small laugh that was more like an exhale escaped Harry’s mouth, and he shot a wink back.   Harry was not really sure what to expect when he had come back to Hogwarts for his eighth year, but if there was a list of things he’d least expected, becoming friends with Draco Malfoy would’ve been at the top of it. Still, over the first three months of school, that’s exactly what happened. It started slow at first. The atmosphere was different between them from the first day back, Harry could feel it. He no longer felt Draco’s eyes burning holes into his skull, or heard him whispering cruel things in the corridors, and Harry didn’t feel the urge to do those things either.   All of the eighth years pretty much had the same schedule, so Harry and Draco inevitably spent most of the day together. The first few weeks of school they only made subtle eye contact from across the room. Soon though, the eye contact turned to staring, the staring turned to smiling, that turned to waving, and eventually, they shared their first civil conversation.   Harry quickly found that Draco was actually really fun to be around. Sure, he could still be a jerk sometimes, but it was different from before. Now when he was being a jerk, he was joking. More important than his tendencies to tease Harry, was the fact that he was incredibly smart and witty. Harry was learning things about Draco that he never knew before, like the fact that he could play the most beautiful songs on the piano from memory and with his eyes closed. Harry loved learning new things about Draco.   They talked in class, studied together, went to quidditch games, and had lively debates in the eighth year common room. Draco was a good friend to Harry. He listened to his concerns, told him when he was being ridiculous, and was the only one who didn’t have pity in his eyes when he looked at him. Draco got Harry through his breakup. He sat silently next to Harry through his hours of wallowing, brought his favorite treats from Hogsmeade to cheer him up, and reminded Harry repeatedly that it was better this way.   Harry watched now as Draco dropped his gaze and started staring at someone over his shoulder instead. Harry turned in his seat to see Blaise Zabini talking with a seventh year bloke at the table behind his. They were sitting even closer than Ginny and Dean were. When he looked back at Draco, the other boy was reading again, unfazed.   Harry had tried to help Draco through his breakup the way that Draco had helped him, but Draco was inconsolable. Not because he was a wreck, but because there was nothing to console. It had only been one week since Blaise dumped him, but Draco never shed a tear, he never wallowed, he never once allowed himself to appear pathetic. In fact, the day of the breakup, Draco had simply moved over to Harry’s tables at the Three Broomsticks, and acted like the conversation he’d just had with Blaise was normal. Normal was the only word Harry could use to describe Draco’s behavior for the rest of that night too. He didn’t even find out that Blaise had broken up with Draco that night until the next day. Even then, Draco was casual about it.   “We’re not talking anymore,” he’d said with a shrug when Harry asked why he wasn’t eating breakfast with his boyfriend. Then he took another bite of his toast, and that was that. He didn’t talk about it again, and Harry didn’t pry. Instead, he helped in the only way Draco would let him.   Harry picked up the potions book he was reading and carried it over to Draco’s table. He sat in the seat next to him and moved closer so they wouldn’t be overheard.   “So what’ll it be today?” He asked in a hushed tone, peering over at Blaise’s table. “Sneaking ton-tongue toffees into their dinners? Setting off portable swamps in their dorm rooms? The Peruvian instant darkness powder was a huge success by the way. I heard it took Blaise twenty minutes to find his way out of the bathroom yesterday.” Maybe playing pranks on Blaise every day for the past week was a little childish, but it made Draco happy. Besides, as an investor in their business, Harry got a great deal at Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes.   Draco continued pretending to read his book, but Harry knew he was listening. He saw the corner of his mouth turning up in a grin, and he couldn’t help but smile himself. These days, Harry was doing anything he could to put that smile on his friend’s face.   Both boys looked up at the sound of chairs moving across the room. Blaise and the seventh year were leaving the library, Blaise practically leading the seventh year out by the hand. Harry swore he could see Draco tensing up, but the moment they left the room he was back to him calm, cool composure.   “No,” He whispered back at Harry. “I have something even bigger in the works. I’ll tell you when the details are worked out.” Harry was a little more than intrigued at the promise of this new plan, but he knew better than to press Draco was he was plotting. He would just have to wait and see. Draco pulled the potions book out of Harry’s hands and examined it.   “Potions for Beginners?” He shot Harry a puzzled look. “I don’t think students that are in an extended year of school count as beginners.” Harry snatched the book out of his hand and put it back in his school bag.   “Just a bit of recreational reading,” Harry asserted with a shrug. “It was just the first book I grabbed.”   “Hey,” Draco’s eyebrows rose in mock surprise, “you’re getting better. That lie was almost believable. I might be rubbing off on you after all, Potter.”   “Shove off, Malfoy.” Harry said, actually shoving his shoulder. Draco just laughed and held his hands up in surrender.   “I’m sorry,” he replied more seriously. “Are you struggling in Potions again?”   “No,” Harry answered, almost too quickly. “Well, you know, it’s just all those years of neglectful teaching and exclusion from Snape finally taking its toll in a real Potions class.” Harry attempted to seem unconcerned and lighthearted about the matter, but he could tell that Draco wasn’t buying it. “It’s just this one exam,” he admitted. “Once I get past it, I’ll be okay.” He may have been stretching the truth a bit with that last part. He’d need to get good marks on the next five exams at least, and that would only stop him from completely falling behind in the class. He hated talking about potions with Draco though. Harry was better at Defense Against the Dark Arts and flying, and Draco was better at pretty much everything else, including Potions. Harry would never admit that to him though.   So, in order to avoid having the conversation go any further, he cut it short. “Speaking of exams, I’m supposed to meet Ron and Hermione to revise for Transfiguration.” Harry gathered up his things and stood next to Draco, who was looking particularly amused. “I’ll see you later though, right? Then I’ll get to hear about this plan of yours?” He asked, shifting his books in his arms.   “Seven o’clock,” Draco said, already returning to his book. “Your room.”

 Read the rest of this chapter here. 

[pinknerdpanda]

Bad Blood - Part 7

Characters: Reader, Dean, Benny, Sam, Martin

Series Summary: You stop at a small cafe in Louisiana on your way home from hunting with the Winchesters. There is something about the man behind the counter that makes you hungry for more than just the pie.

Warnings for this chapter: Angst, language, Mostly-ok-Martin

Word Count: 2,600 (including dialogue from ep 08x09 Citizen Fang - in italics below)

A/N: This is loosely based on Season 8 Episode 9 “Citizen Fang” but I adapted the storyline to fit into this series. I did use a few lines of dialogue from the show and I have italicized it below. All credit and rights go to the writers of the show.

Masterbeta’d by my friend and soul sister @wheresthekillswitch. As well as the every lovely @hannahindie. You are both amazing and I adore you. Thank you!

Behind? You can catch up here: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Tags are below the cut - please send me an ask if you would like to be added or removed from my tag list! :) Your feedback is so appreciated! (The gif is not mine)

Gif Credit - X

Bad Blood

Part 7

“What’s this really about Dean? Huh? Is this really about whether you trust him or not? Or are you just mad because I chose him instead of you?”

The words are out of your mouth before you can stop them. The look on Dean’s face is a mix of hurt and anger and he stomps out of the room without saying another word, slamming the door behind him. Sam glances uncomfortably around before following Dean out the door.

Tears pour hot and wet down both of your cheeks as guilt consumes you. Benny moves to stand in front of you, and places a hand on your arm. You recoil involuntarily from his touch and he drops his hand. His gaze shifts to the carpet and he nods. When he looks at you again, he smiles sadly and nods curtly.

“Well, I think I best be on my way. Take care of yourself, cher.”

You clench your eyes shut as the door closes behind him. Loud, painful sobs echo mockingly throughout the empty room as you crumble to the floor.

-----

Guidry’s Cajun Cafe - Carencro LA

“I'm actually looking for an old friend of mine. I heard he's kicking around these parts. His name's Roy.” Dean’s words are crystal clear as they travel the short distance from his lips to your ears. It’s been two weeks since you’ve seen him and still the sound of his voice makes the hair on your arms stand on end.

You watch his interaction with the pretty brunette behind the counter where all of this mess had begun. Carefully tugging the brim of your baseball hat down a little further over your eyes, you sigh. Dean has always had a way with women, a fact that you’d known of the elder Winchester before you’d ever laid eyes on him. His years of bouncing around from place to place over the years has helped him to hone his wooing skills to perfection and this “Elizabeth” seems to be no different. Her easy smile and the light blush dusted across her cheeks does little to change your opinion on the matter.

This is the same schtick you’ve seen him use on women in every setting imaginable for as long as you’ve known him; a strategically played smile here and a well timed nibble on his lower lip there, and soon they are eating from his hand. However, for the first time in your work with the Winchesters, a pang of jealousy strikes you, twisting and weaving itself through your stomach.

Not that what you are doing at the moment would be considered working with the Winchesters. That would imply that either one or both of the brothers knew you were here. Sam had been the one to call you the day before, though he’d had implicit instructions to stay away and just let them handle it. From the hushed tones Sam had used during your brief conversation, it was obvious Dean was in the dark that he’d called you at all. He had to know that you wouldn’t be able to sit back and do nothing once you’d heard that Benny hadn’t been able to control his bloodlust. You feel responsible for it, really. If you hadn’t encouraged him to bite you, there wouldn’t be a body count.

So, the decision to make the drive to Carencro wasn’t a hard one. The diner was your first stop. You hadn’t even been sitting here for more than five minutes when the bells on the door chimed and Dean Winchester had come strolling in. You’d expected to have a significant head-start over Sam and Dean, but apparently they were closer than you’d thought.

In the two weeks since you last saw Dean, you’ve had the opportunity to think long and hard about his admission. Of all the things you’ve come to expect from Dean, confessing his feelings for you has to be toward the bottom of the list.

You’ve known the Winchesters for a couple years, but you’d known of them for longer than that. While you can count on one hand the number of hunts you’ve been on with them, you’ve spent plenty of time in close quarters with them. You definitely aren’t one to go for the model type, but there was something about Dean that had drawn you in from the beginning.

In so many ways, Dean is hard and rough; all strength and cunning. The monsters of the earth that hide in the shadows - the same creatures whose horrific existence have been the basis for fairytales and children’s nightmares for centuries - they know the name Dean Winchester and they are afraid. And yet, behind all that fierceness and swagger, is a man that would move heaven and earth to save his little brother from the fiery pits of hell and loves pie more than some people love their children; a man whose smile alone can light up a thousand rooms. Dean is all of those things at the same time and, rather than those facts contradicting themselves, they instead seem to only further illustrate their own truths.

Somehow, this complicated, intelligent, sexy man cares about you. Or at least he did. There is no way to take back what you’d said and you wouldn’t blame him if he never wanted to see you again.

“What are you doing here, Princess?”

Dean’s tone is flat. You square your shoulders, suppressing a cringe and sucking in a breath before you turn to look at him. His mouth is set in a grim line, his eyebrows creased together as his green eyes bore into yours. The look on his face is a complete departure from the playful banter he’d been using on Elizabeth just moments ago.

“Looking for our fanged friend; same as you.”

“Oh, is that what you are calling him now. A ‘friend’?”

“Oh for fuck’s sake Dean! Can you grow up? Please?” The room has grown deathly quiet and you glance around to find the smattering of patrons staring in your direction. You sigh heavily and stand, jamming your hand into the back pocket of your jeans. After fishing out a couple of dollar bills and slamming them on the table, you glare at Dean as you march out of the restaurant.

You have no idea if Dean follows you out or not, and frankly you don’t care. Heavy footfalls on the creaking wood of the porch sound from behind you, but you don’t bother to turn around. As you reach your car, Dean’s fingers land on the crook of your arm, spinning you around to face him.

“What do you want?” You expect the anger you are feeling to show in your voice, but instead it just comes out sounding tired. Frustrated with yourself, you drop your gaze to the ground and kick at a piece of gravel.

“You look like shit, y/n.”

Shocked, you look back up at him, mouth agape. His face has softened and whatever aggression you’d seen inside has been replaced by weariness.

“And the hits just keep on coming, Winchester. Boy, you really know how to make a girl feel special.” You roll your eyes, knowing you sound just as childish as you’d accused him of being.

“I didn’t...it’s just...I mean…” Dean self assured facade flickers briefly as he struggles to come up with the words. It’s kind of nice to watch him fumble around for a bit, so you cross your arms in front of your chest and wait. Dean huffs out a breath, trying to gain his footings.  “I am just concerned that you are not taking care of yourself. How are the stitches?”

That isn’t the answer you were exactly expecting. You shrug. “Fine, I guess. You know, a girl could really get whiplash from being around you.”

Dean’s eyes drop to the ground as his tongue sneaks out, wetting his lips before chewing nervously on the bottom lip.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again.” He is so quiet you aren’t sure you’d heard him correctly.

“Yeah, I know the feeling.” You rub your palms together anxiously, looking anywhere but at Dean’s face.

“So, I guess Sammy called you?” You nod as Dean rolls his eyes. “Of course he did. He tell you what Martin said, or were you in on this little scheme?”

Confusion ripples across your face as you stare hard at him, hoping to find the answers there. 

“The only thing Sam said is that he had received information that there were some Vamp kills in Carencro and he was fairly certain Benny was involved. He said he thought I should be aware.”

“So you had no idea that Sammy sent his little watch-dog, Mostly-Okay-Martin-Creaser to keep an eye on Benny?”

“Whose Martin? What the hell are you talking about Dean?” You shake your head and Dean frowns.

“Get in, I will explain it on the way.”

-----

The cool air swirls around you and Dean as you make your way through the dense, wooded area, the dry, dead leaves crunch helplessly under your boots. The faint sound of digging makes you pause with a glance at Dean. He places a finger against his lips before tucking his machete carefully behind his back and flicking his head in the direction of the noise.

A small clearing comes into view; an old, dilapidated camper parked near the treeline. Dean holds up his free hand and you stop, waiting for his cue. He motions wordlessly at you in a way that seems to indicate he wants you to stay here and he is going to move in. You give him about a minute’s worth of a head start before you creep along carefully behind him.

“It’s not me, Dean.” Benny’s rough hewn twang has lost none of it’s appeal, you note as you duck behind a tree.

Dean slinks from behind the beat up pickup truck and Benny doesn’t even bother to glance behind him.

“Oh yeah? I got a dead body or two that seems to disagree with you. Who'd you plant, Benny?” Dean’s voice is low, an obvious attempt to sound non-threatening.

“Somebody seems to be doing their best to make me look bad, Dean.” Benny throws a thumb over his shoulder toward the recently disturbed earth. “That’s victim number three back there. I know how it looks, but I promise you Dean, it isn’t me. You wanna hide in the trees all day, y/n? Or you gonna come on out and play nice?”

You wince, your shoulders drooping as you peek out from behind the tree.

“Heya Benny.” You offer an uncomfortable smile.

Benny stares at you wordlessly, his eyes full of regret and sadness. Dean clears his throat, pulling both of you out of your daze.

“And how do we know you’re telling the truth?” Dean narrows his gaze toward Benny.

“I guess you’re jus’ gonna have to trust me on this one, chief.” Benny sighs.

“Oh you mean like how I trusted you to keep your word that you weren’t gonna go around biting people? Or how we trusted you to keep y/n safe in Baton Rouge a few weeks ago?”

“Dean, that’s enough.”

“No, cher. He’s not wrong. I know I done made mistakes.” Benny huffs out a breath, leaning across the hood of the battered truck. “But I know who’s doing this. And I’m gonna take care of it. I promise you that.”

“Ok, so if it isn’t you, who is it?” You move to stand across from him, elbows propped on the hood, mirroring his pose.

“You don’t look so good, cher. You feeling alright?” Benny’s brow wrinkles in concern. You let out a frustrated squeal.

“I really fucking wish people would stop asking me that!” You glance pointedly at Dean, who shrugs innocently. “Don’t try to change the subject, Benny. Who is it?”

“His name’s Desmond. He was connected to that nest in Baton Rouge. He’s a little less than pleased at having had his buddies killed. Seems to think there’s nothing worse than taking out one of our own. He stopped in a few nights ago at the cafe, saying he wanted me to either join his nest under him or he was gonna make my life here complicated.”

Dean tips his head questioningly and you cock an eyebrow.

“I told him no. But now there’s been three bodies in two days. No amateur is gonna kick me out of my hometown, Dean. Not this time.”

“Alright,” Dean sighs, planting his thumb against his temple and rubbing two fingers along the lines in his forehead. “Well, that makes two problems to deal with.”

“Whadaya mean, brother?”

“I mean you’ve got two hunters on your ass, and apparently a pissed off frat brother that we need to take care of.”

“Oh you mean your little brother and that dumbass that’s been following me around the last week or so? I’m not too worried about that.’

“My brother's not someone you want to mess with, Benny. He thinks that you won’t be able to control yourself now that you’ve had fresh blood again.” Dean frowns, refusing to meet your eyes.

“That don’t mean it’s true. And as far as Desmond goes, this is my fight. It’s me he wants; I’ll take care of it on my own.”

“Like hell you will!” You growl at him, rounding the front of the truck. “It’s my fault you’re mixed up in the middle of all of this to begin with.”

Benny turns, and for a moment his blue gaze swallows you whole and a current of heat dances through to your core. He smiles sadly as he reaches up hesitantly, pausing before brushing the backs of his knuckles against your cheek.

“No, it’s not. I am what I am and I have been since long before I laid eyes on your pretty little face. I won’t let you get hurt again, cher. I already can’t forgive myself for Baton Rouge.”

“Alright, well enough with the Days of our Lives, you two.” Dean’s voice makes you jump. Benny drops his hand and you turn to find Dean rolling his eyes. “Y/n, you go back and find Sam and Martin, let them know it isn’t Benny. The two of us will go track down this Desmond and take care of him.”

“You know what, Winchester? I’m about done with you telling me what to do.” You aren’t sure what is more infuriating; him giving orders or the fact that he looks completely unfazed at your razor sharp tone.

“Look, we tried things your way last time and how did that go?” His features have softened and his eyes are pleading with you. “If you want to help, go find Sam and Martin and hold them off until we find this fanged douche and chop his damned head off.”

-----

“I’m telling you Sammy, it isn’t him!”

Sam is squinting at you from across the cramped motel room. A middle aged, balding man with a noticeable tick is pacing back and forth in front of the two beds, gnawing on the nail of one of his thumbs. Dean had called him “Mostly-ok-Martin” earlier and now it is easy to see why.

“Why the hell should we believe you?” Martin stops in front of you, pointing a long, shaking finger in your direction.

“Believe me or don’t but if you go after Benny, you are only gonna get yourself killed.” You look at Sam, who is lost, deep in thought.

“You gonna take the word of this fang banger Sam, or are we gonna go take care of this the way your daddy taught you?”

You are on your feet and charging across the room but Sam moves quickly to block your path before you can reach the other man.

“Enough!” Sam’s deep voice echos off the cheaply papered walls. “Martin, you need to back off. Now.” A satisfied smile curls your lips. “And y/n. I told you to stay home. You’re too close to this. You let me and Martin handle this, or…”

“Or what, Sam?” You narrow your eyes at him as you plant your fists on your hips, refusing to be intimidated by all 6’4” of him.

“Or you’re not going to like what happens next.” Sam returns your glare, and for a moment you almost flinch.

Movement behind you catches your attention and as you are beginning to turn around, Martin’s fist connects with the side of your face. The sound is like a crack of thunder inside your skull, and your head lurches backward. You feel the pain spreading like wildfire through every nerve and taste something like copper just seconds before everything goes black.

Read Part 8 Here

Like what you see? Want more? My Masterlist is here. Thanks for reading! :)

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[regrettablewritings]

First Lines

Rules: Paste a short sentence/paragraph you think a potential reader may find intriguing from your last 20 stories and then tag 10 other authors. Tagged by: @mrsrafaelbarba a literal eternity ago and I only got to it now because my memory is such shite and I am an awful person to tag. 😰   I tag . . .: Well, dang, who hasn’t done this already? I mean?? @xemopeachx if you want in on this, you’re up but like?? Anyone else wants to do it, feel free to.

I’ve realized that some of the last things I did were, like, Would Includes so lemme try and remember the last 20 actual stories I wrote . . . Dang, there’s a lot of Bruce Wayne and Barba and Credence.

1. Day Bi Day (Rafael Barba x Reader):

“Jeffrey Dean Morgan,” he repeated slowly, as if trying to get a feel for the name himself. He then pursed his lips critically. “(Y/N), he’s old enough to be your father.”

You shrugged, albeit with an obvious lack of true consideration of Rafael’s point. “Yeah, well, you know . . . He’s not.” You seemed to leave it at that as you leaned toward your bowl of cereal. From the way your voice trailed, he took it as a sign of self-accepted defeat.

Rafael soundlessly scoffed, rolling his eyes and shaking his head for good measure. You sure had weird tastes and no right to question his at this rate. It was quiet for the next moment, with Rafael trying to think of whomever else he found attractive, and with the both of you chewing your newest respectful spoonfuls.

Therefore, with the silence settling in, it was quite easy for Rafael to hear you quickly mutter into your bowl, “Sure is my Daddy™, though.”

The rest of the silence was shattered by the dramatically bombastic sound of Rafael coughing over a piece of cereal that he had carelessly allowed to fall the wrong way.

2. The One Reason to Love the Glasshouse (Bruce Wayne x Reader):

It didn’t take long before everything – the pitter-patter of the rain, the heat and pleasure of Bruce’s presence on yours, his gentle breathing, the overall state of relaxation you were in – melded together into a creamy, soft feeling. As your eyes closed once more to let the essence of this rainy morning engulf you, you confirmed what you only ever did on days like this: You had a love-hate relationship with Bruce’s home. But so long as it could provide the two of you moments like this, you wouldn’t mind tolerating it.

3. Say Yes to Distress (Rafael Barba x Reader):

Against his better judgement, Rafael turned away from the sanctuary of plastic bags and to you. He regretted it the moment he laid eyes on you.

This was it. This was the dress. Ballroom style and strapless, yet another sweetheart neckline, but one embroidered with intricate lacework. Patterns that spread down to the bell of the dress before scattering into patches that resembled dripping bouquets of flowers. Organza fabric creating a light essence about the dress, as though it were made of clouds, all topped with a small waist belt of pearls and lace. It wasn’t cute like the first dress or sexy like the second. It was, in a word, perfection.  

The expression on your face, however, was not one worthy of yourself in such a gown. It was one of worry and confusion. And it hurt Rafael that he was the one who was causing it.

4. How to Be a Good Catholic, Part 1 (Sonny Carisi x Reader):

“Father, I stole: My boyfriend had saved a cannoli for himself for after work and I couldn’t help myself – I ate it!” Dammit. And it’d sounded so good in the heat of the moment. You were a grown woman; why were you coming in here with a confession children in Sunday School used? Before you could stop yourself, you added in, “I went out and bought a new one for him, though. Walked six blocks in the evening so he’d have a cannoli ready for him as soon as he stepped a toe through the door.”

If you didn’t know any better, you could’ve sworn you heard Father Murphy huffing to supress a chuckle.

“I see … Indeed, stealing is a crime. Though, I must commend you for taking responsibility and setting things right – ”

“I also snuck a bag of cherry sours from a bodega into the movies once because I didn’t want to pay the unreasonable concessions price,” you weakly blabbed.

“That, uh … It’s against theater protocol but I wouldn’t call that a sin necessarily.”

“Oh.”

5. How to Be a Good Catholic, Part 2 (Sonny Carisi x Reader):

It was amazing how cravings worked: You could be perfectly fine, not want to eat anything in particular and just eat whatever simply because you needed nourishment to keep getting through the day. But the moment you’re told you can’t eat a certain something, no matter how often you may or may not eat it, it suddenly becomes all you can think about. That was what made Lent maddening for you as a child. It was as though the season held special powers beyond serving as a countdown for your lord and savior basically becoming a zombie: It could make you crave cafeteria nuggets like a junkie craved a fix. But considering that said zombie-savior got beaten, nailed to a cross, and was forced to wear a crown of thorns for you, abstaining from meat a couple of Fridays for 40 days was the least you could do besides doing nothing at all.  

… But Zombie Jesus, it was so hard.

6. Pink (Rafael Barba x Reader):

If you liked pink before, dating and eventually marrying Rafael had made you adore it: It striped some of his shirts and dominated others; it was the color of one of his many suspenders; it speckled quite a few ties in intricate designs, muted in pastel form on his pocket square. A bright, electric hue as his yachting shirt, much to your amusement. It was the color your cheeks would assume every time he complimented you, the color his face would turn whenever you praised your beloved husband for how incredible you found his work ethic. It was the color of the tie you’d picked out for him that morning as he dressed himself up for work, and it was the color of the roses he’d had delivered to your workplace yesterday, which were now placed in a glass vase centered at the kitchen table.

It was also the color of the two lines on the stick you’d been staring at for the past ten minutes.

7. Stripulation (Rafael Barba x Reader):

“I must say,” she said, her voice changing from accusatory to an attempt at seductive. She adjusted the arm under her breasts more, making sure that they popped further into acknowledgement. “You’ve gone from little lavishing lawyer to quite the law-abiding citizen, Counselor Cutiepie.” She chuckled as she watched the object of her desire tense up at the name. She glanced downward at his suitcase, still open and still in the process of being unpacked. “Still have a thing for suspenders, I see,” she commented.

“Crap” would have been too simple of a word to describe what sprinted through Rafael’s mind at that moment. But whatever word it was, it began to run laps as the woman began to saunter over to him, slowly and emphasizing every movement her hips made along the way. She only stopped when she left barely a foot between them.

“Oh my,” she breathed, “you have such lovely eyes. I never would’ve been able to tell they were green of all things in that old VIP room; all the lights were dim and red! But I wonder … Do those hips still snap like they used to?”

8. The Color of Loving (Modern Daddy!Credence Barebone):

“It” being when Amari, babbling and calling for “Daddy” ran up to her pale father, chubby brown arms lifted to signify she wanted him to hold her. Credence initially didn’t realize what was going on around him, only focusing on his beautiful baby girl as he lifted her to his waist with a smile on both their faces. It was instinct: After living a life on edge and pitying every second of his own existence, why would he bother to willingly do so now that he felt so happy and complete? It was only when his little treasure occupied herself with laying her head on his shoulder that he happened to look around himself.

People were staring.

Not too many, but just enough to make him feel uncomfortable. As much as he was able to avoid the sense of self-pitying from his previous life, Credence was still very much a nervous man by nature; if the right amount of people stared at him while buying groceries, he’d quickly divert his eyes to the dingy linoleum. But in that precise moment at the park, he couldn’t place why they could be staring at him. Did he step in something? Did he unknowingly sit on some kid’s abandoned bar of chocolate? Was there something he happened to be in the same direction of – ? Credence tensed: they were looking at him and Amari. As a unit. As two things to be compared against.

9. A Portrait Worth a Thousand Words (Bruce Wayne x Reader):

If Thomas was where Bruce had inherited his looks and personality, Martha was surely where he’d gained his sense of grace and elegant flair from. The dark-haired beauty sat, poised and finely-dressed in a manner that made you question if she had just been a socialite or if she was truly a queen. Her pearls, simple if observed alone, caressed her neck and breastbone in a careful way that reminded you of classical paintings. But the crowning jewel of intimidation was the expression she eternally wore: Not one of malice or disgust, but one of sheer coolness. Like a woman made of iron hidden behind silk. Her countenance suggested a scary grace under pressure, an icy intelligence, an all-knowing one. Even the redness of her painted lips were classily poised as if in observance of all that she could survey, analyzing and judging every little thing. Including you, in all the moments you had stared at her and her husband from down the hall up to now as you stood directly in front of them. 

10. A Practice in Happy Memories (Credence Barebone x Reader):

And for a moment, it looked like a mere vapor, just as you had expected his first successful attempt would be. What you didn’t expect, much less Credence, was that merely two seconds later, it began to morph.

It grew legs – thin, bony ones – and a body just as skeletal. A whip-like tail lashed through the air as its narrow, gaunt face shook into life. Its wings, like a bat, stayed open as it galloped through the air and around the dining room, leaving wisps of vapor and light in its wake.

Your mouth hung in complete awe as your frantically blinked as though just the right amount would disprove what you were seeing. Credence, on the other hand, appeared slightly horrified. What in Merlin’s name had he produced? Was it a mistake? Did he mess up? Did he not focus hard enough? Was … was the happiest memory he could think up not good enough?

11. Soulmate AU - You Share Thoughts with Your Soulmate (Stephen Strange):

In your state hovering just outside the realm of meditation, you heard Stephen sighing. You supposed that it was out of contentment with his achievement of getting you to calm. It therefore seemed peculiar when he risked breaking that induced mode by gently grabbing you by the waist before gingerly placing you on his cross-legged lap. Without another word, he returned his hands into their previous position, closed his eyes again, and began his exercise.

Before he went fully in to his trance, he could just faintly hear your thoughts one more time: “Thank you.”

The smile he produced in response set him a few steps back from achieving the desired state. He didn’t mind.

12. Soulmate AU - Soulmates Get Reincarnated, Usually with Their Memories Still Intact (Tadashi Hamada):

“Hugging is fine!” you cut off, a little too high in tone. You didn’t want to know what else this bot could say that might tarnish his beautiful, pure appearance. You heard Tadashi snicker from his place next to you before turning fully to you, arms held open. When you looked at him with a blush-burned face, he chortled.

“You heard the medical expert,” he teased. It was only when you looked back and forth between himself and Baymax, before shoving yourself into the soft, huggable torso of the latter, that Tadashi’s arms dropped and his face contained complete disbelief.

“Unbelievable,” he muttered, watching you contently rub your face against Baymax’s tummy.

13. Soulmate AU - You Can See Color Once You Meet Your Soulmate (Jonathan Byers x Reader):

You weren’t thinking when your grabbed his hand and began sprinting down the hallway back to the art room. It didn’t even occur to you that you didn’t really know Jonathan, other than the fact that he was your soulmate and a photographer. You were just doing what suddenly came naturally: Wanting your soulmate to be around you. Besides, great things take time; you had to start somewhere. Even if “somewhere” meant dragging your confused, startled, and yet somewhat love-struck soulmate down the hallway. 

14. Valentine’s Day Love Languages - Words of Affirmation (Credence Barebone x Reader):

The still image of the two of you holding hands in the park stared back at him, your blissful smile complimenting his own nervous one. As he passed an enchanted photo, the real Credence couldn’t help but watch the photographed versions of you two reenacting the actions that had occurred up until the photograph had officially been captured: You were trying to get Credence to create a genuine, calm smile. You tried quick jokes, you tried gently tickling his side. Eventually, you settled on kissing his cheek. That did it. By the time the real Credence had past that particular image, the Credence in the photograph was smiling goofily and blushing while the photographed version of you nuzzled his arm affectionately. 

15. Valentine’s Day Love Languages - Physical Touch (Matt Murdock x Reader):

“That doesn’t mean I’m going to force her to do anything to me,” Matt scowled, though he was unsure as to who or what he was scowling over. He tried to calm down in all of his frustration, just barely becoming exhausted in his thought process. “I just … I don’t know what’s up. I know I should ask – I should’ve done that before I talked with you, actually – ”

“Fair enough.”

“ – but as stupid as it is, I can’t help but feel a little, well, scared about it. Don’t give me that look, I know how stupid it is, being scared of this. But I have a good reason to be: Even before we hit the honeymoon stage – hell, even before we started dating – I just wanted (Y/N) in my life. I wasn’t sure how, or even why I wanted to risk that. I just knew that I wanted to be near enough so that she would be a constant in my life. And the messed up part is, even throughout all of this, that’s still something I want.”

Matt went quiet for a moment as if in contemplation. “I guess I’m just hung up on the fact that maybe I did something wrong but she won’t tell me. I’m so used to relying on touch to determine things, y’know? I guess having … Being deprived of this one thing, it’s driving me on edge.”

16. Valentine’s Day Love Languages - Acts of Service (Newt Scamander x Reader):

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” you kept chanting. You steadily reached into your coat pocket to retrieve their evening snack of bugs, courtesy of your godawful apartment in Brooklyn. “Daddy’s here. Daddy’s here,” you cooed. It seemed strange, referring to yourself as “daddy.” However, as time went on and you used it more and more, it just made sense and stopped feeling peculiar.

After all, if Newt was “Mummy”, surely that made you “Daddy.” And yet, as Newt heard you say it, saw you feeding the little winged creatures bugs, it felt as though he was only truly hearing you say it for the first time. As loving as Newt was, he knew that gaining an occamy’s trust was a fragile thing to do. It took him a while before he was certain referring to himself as “Mummy” was appropriate. Your willingness to take up the counterpart, however, just felt … right.

17. Valentine’s Day Love Languages - Quality Time (Percival Graves x Reader):

Whatever you said next, whether it had actually been emitted or not, was lost in the fabric of Percival’s shirt. The moment your voice began getting higher and higher with the strangle of your tears, he was out of the chair. It was only when his arms encased you and welcomed you back into the warmth you’d missed so dearly that it all came crumbling down.

Your anxieties, your loneliness, your needs, everything. You no longer felt selfish. You didn’t even feel angry anymore. You weren’t entirely sure what you felt for a moment. But for now, you decided as you weakly wrapped your arms around Percival’s torso, the feeling was relief.

The sitting room, which was usually quiet with the exception of the ticking clock, became filled with the sounds of your crying. After a while, it was accompanied by the sounds of Percival softly attempting to coax you into calmness. Gentle shushes with the faint sound of him gingerly running a hand through your hair, things he’d learned in the past that helped to soothe you. He used to believe that the past was so long ago because he had been doing his job. But now, with the revelation of your feelings, he began to suspect that it was simply just that he hadn’t been there for you.

18. Valentine’s Day Love Languages - Receiving Gifts (Jonathan Byers x Reader):

“Yes, I am leaving for NYU in a couple of months. Yes, I keep giving you gifts when I should probably be saving up. But . . .” His shoulders slouched slightly. “I want to give you things. I want to give you everything. Even the things I can’t afford. For now. And even though I’m leaving soon, I still want to assure you that I can still give you those things: A happy life, a home, a family, whatever you want.”

19. All the Write Words, Part 4 (Library AU!Vladimir Ranskahov x Reader)

For the first two years the Ranskahov brothers had been in America, the Veles Taxi & Limousine Services had been the Prohaska Cab Garage. Old Man Prohaska himself was a stubborn old man whose spit-at-your-shoes attitude hadn’t won him many companions. It did, however, win him a bizarre and rather cruel death by a bowling ball bash to the cranium. At the time, Anatoly had been one of the better options to leave the garage with and while it was highly likely that he wasn’t even in the will to begin with, the nervous lawyer who kept staring at an oddly calm and quiet Vladimir stated otherwise. And just like that, the garage was under new ownership. No questions asked.

Not much had changed under the Ranskahov ruling: It had always employed an abundance of Russians, it usually had rap or cheesy Russian folk music blaring from an old boom box. The mini collage of centerfolds and pinups only changed by gaining a few more additions and business went on as it had before because generally, customers didn’t have a preference for taxi services by name. Just do the job, do it good, and they’d go on their merry way. The only apparent change was the transformation of the logo into Veles Taxi. That, and maybe – just maybe – the powerful presence of tall, scary Russian men had increased since the brothers had taken over.

20. All the Write Words, Part 5 (Library AU!Vladimir Ranskahov x Reader):

He had brownish-red hair combed in a lax manner that still managed to portray an air of certainty. It didn’t matter that his eyes were shielded behind a pair of strange, red, round-framed glasses; they were probably just as warm and welcoming as the smile he wore. Basically, he was everything Vladimir wasn’t: closer in age to (Y/N), warm, and smiling. Vladimir had to seriously consider whether or not to throw up in order to catch (Y/N)’s attention.

Fortunately for the carpet, he didn’t have to; the brunette stopped laughing and turned to his general direction.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” he apologized. “Were we being too loud? I understand that it’s a library, quite unprofessional …” Vladimir’s eye twitched slightly. His voice was low and warm. Like hot cider. Was every person who stepped into this goddamn place so pleasant and gushy? It was at this point that (Y/N) finally managed to stop laughing and turned her attention to her protégé.

[crownoyami]

Chapter 4 - Archangel

Title:  Archangel

Pairing: Gabriel/Sam Rating: E Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Warnings/Tags:  Drinking, Frottage, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Killing, Hitman Gabriel, Feet, Switching, Bottom Gabriel, Bottom Sam, Top Gabriel (Supernatural), Top Sam Winchester, Rimming, Oral Sex, Public Display of Affection, Rough Sex, Marking, Violence, Minor Character Death, Mentions of Rape, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting

Summary: Secrets had a way of being discovered. For hitman Gabriel, his biggest secret may just cost him the only person he ever loved.

AO3 Link To Story: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16273952/chapters/38265968

Author’s Note: I finally finished all 3 of my Reverse J2 Big Bangs! And I gotta tell you the art for them is amazing! I’m so excited to post and share with you, just as soon as I get the date to go ahead with that. Now the next thing I’m working on is combining the rest of the Gabriel Monthly Challenge prompts for October, so my next story might have a creepy feel for Halloween. While I work on that, here’s this!

  *~*~*~ This has been beta’d by Gamermom ~huge thanks to her!

    Chapter 4

   Moving; even when you didn’t have much, was a hassle. Though he lived a very Spartan lifestyle through the few months he had been living in the apartment Gabriel had managed to accumulate enough things that it took several hours before everything was settled. Having wanted Sam to see his new home with everything unpacked, Gabriel worked quickly while Sam was at work. Once he was done, Gabriel noticed that while Charlie had designed the house and Kali decorated it, it felt empty. There were spaces and rooms where it felt off.

 Glancing around from room to room, Gabriel couldn’t help but smile slightly. “Well played, Charlie well played.” It was her not so subtle way of telling him he needed to invite Sam to live with him. It wasn’t like the thought hadn’t entered his mind. Though he hadn’t allowed Charlie to do a full dig into Sam he had asked her for a summary. The report she gave showed that while Sam was sharing an apartment with his brother, it would be easy for Dean to move to the attached flat above the new shop.

 Financially it was sound, Dean could move to the shop while Sam moved in with him. If anything, it would cut down on the tall man’s finances seeing as Gabriel had the house paid for. Still, they had only been together for a few months, surely it was too soon to ask Sam to take such a step. Hearing the chirp of his phone, Gabriel pulled the device out of pocket to check the incoming text.

 Sam: I went to surprise you and found your apartment cleaned out, I take it the house is ready?

 Smiling at the thought of Sam coming home early to surprise him, Gabriel was quick to respond.

 Yeah, I just have to lock up and pass in my key. Meeting with the landlord tomorrow… you wanna come over here instead?

 Sam: I’ll be there in a few minutes, going to check and make sure you didn’t forget anything.

 Gabriel couldn’t help but chuckle at the thought; if Sam was nothing else it was thorough. Moving to the kitchen, Gabriel easily chose a nice wine to go with the takeout he had gotten shortly before Sam’s text. Laying out the food on plates instead of the boxes it came in, Gabriel got the place ready for his lover. Hearing the knock on his door, Gabriel continued cleaning up while he called out.

 “It’s open, lock up behind you if you would though.”

 Hearing the door open, Gabriel wiped off his hands and made his way to the doorway, a smile on his face. Just as he expected Sam had come over straight after work. Reaching out, Gabriel pulled the taller man into a quick kiss in greeting, breathing in deeply. While he worked in the office, there was an unavoidable scent of motor oil and machinery clinging to his flannel shirt. It was never a smell Gabriel thought he would crave, but after a few months with the man it smelt more and more like home.

 “Bobby let you go early?” asked Gabriel, easily slipping his hand in Sam’s larger one and pulling him toward the dining room. Thankfully, Sam had seen most of the layout of the house, choosing to go with him when Gabriel checked on the progress.

 “Yeah,” answered Sam, easily taking his seat at the table when Gabriel let go of his hand and took a sip of his wine. “It’s the middle of the month so he doesn’t mind me leaving when it’s slow. I know it’s been a while, business has been too busy for me to take a few hours, but he let me start the weekend early.”

 Gabriel nodded his head, chewing a mouthful of food and swallowing before speaking. It was nice, being able to sit down and have a meal with his boyfriend. Gabriel asked Sam about his day, having done nothing but move since they last spoke. Mentioning that he was moved in now earned Gabriel a slight pout from the other man. “You know I would have helped you, it must have been a pain to do it alone.”

 “Not really,” said Gabriel shrugging his shoulders. “I mean if I would have lugged any of the furniture around, yeah I would have waited, but the new furniture was added to the design plan. All I needed to take was my things, so it only took a couple of trips and I was unpacking.”

 Sam nodded his head, a frown still on his face. Putting his fork down, Gabriel tried to understand why Sam was upset, moving really wasn’t a big deal. If he had needed to take everything from his apartment he would have asked for help, but a few boxes of clothes and silverware weren’t a huge deal. He had even left the television behind, having upgraded to a larger one with the house.

 “I guess I wanted to help you, you know? I mean you seem to do everything alone. I just want you to know you can lean on me a little now and then.” Answered Sam when Gabriel asked what was wrong. Reaching over, Gabriel placed his hand out, waiting a second for Sam to place his own in it before he spoke.

 “I’m sorry, I guess I didn’t realize this is something you wanted to do with me. I just thought of it as something that needed to be done that I could do myself without bothering you. Next time something comes up I promise to include you, okay?”

 Sam looked up as Gabriel spoke, nodding his head when he was done and smiling at the other. Going back to finishing their meal, Gabriel tried to lighten the conversation, wanting Sam to be more comfortable. “I guess I could actually start now… do you think your family would like to come over and see the place? I could set up the BBQ and hopefully by then, the hot tub should be working.”

 While a hot tub wasn’t something he had thought about, Charlie had made certain his house had everything he could want. More importantly, it had a nice enough look to the place that people wouldn’t question why he had such a high-security system, nor why his house was surrounded by a tall fence. It was easier to claim you wanted your privacy if you had money, nobody seemed to question if the rich wanted their privacy, they always questioned if the middle class did.

 “Yeah, Jo and Ellen might be able to make it next weekend, they get one weekend off a month to spend away from the bar. Bobby, Dean, and Karen don’t have anything planned that I know of either. Not sure about Rufus, if you want I can ask?”

 Gabriel nodded his head. He liked the older man, while Gabriel didn’t dislike anyone from Sam’s family he took a shine to the one man who seemed to understand who Gabriel was. Despite being curious Gabriel hadn’t asked Charlie to investigate Rufus. He would find out more before Rufus came into his home.

 “You know,” began Sam, putting his plate along with Gabriel’s in the sick while they took their refilled glasses of wine into the sitting room the same as they had for the past month. “You could invite some of your friends as well. I mean I get that some of them might not be able to make it because of work, but I’m sure they would like to see the place. I know that you don’t talk to your family anymore, but I’m sure some of your friends would come if you asked.”

 It had been a split-second decision to lie to Sam about his family when the man asked. While he really didn’t want Sam to pity him, it was far easier to say his family kicked him out than the truth; his family thought he was dead. Even the members who had been in the service didn’t know; it was easier to have someone arrange for an MIA than to tell them the truth. It was always easier to lie than for him to tell anyone the truth, thankfully Sam hadn’t asked too many questions for Gabriel to be forced to lie about. Not yet.

 “Nah,” responded Gabriel leaning his head against Sam’s shoulder who was sitting beside him while looking at the fireplace instead of turning on the television mounted above it. “I mean I could ask Charlie to come over, I’m sure she would love to see the design she made brought to life, but my other coworkers aren’t really the social type and would only bring the place down.”

 Practically feeling the question on Sam’s tongue, Gabriel continued. “If I thought it would work out well I would ask Kali, she’s probably the one Charlie let do the interior design. She’s a bit of a hot-head though and I bet it would take all of two seconds for her to both turn down Dean and insult someone until  they leave. Balthazar is nice enough, but he’s a bit of a slut and would try to talk Ellen and Jo into a three-way.”

 At his last comment, Sam sputtered a bit into his wine, causing Gabriel to smirk. “Yeah, it wouldn’t take him all but two seconds to try and hump someone on the lawn, most of the time he’s successful too.” Sam looked down at Gabriel with widened eyes and a slight flush to his cheeks. “Seriously?”

 With a light laugh, Gabriel nodded his head. “Yeah, seriously. Don’t think because we’re together that you would be off the hook either. One look at you and he would be trying to talk us into a threesome.”

 Sam grimaced at the suggestion, causing Gabriel to raise an eyebrow in question. “I umm,” hesitated Sam, licking his lips for a second. “It’s not something I’m into. I get why some people would be but… I’m only interested in the person I’m dating, I don’t want someone else in our bed, even only the once.”

 While he wanted to make a joke about it not having to be a bed, Gabriel noticed the way Sam was clenching his hand which was no longer holding his glass. Reaching over, Gabriel placed his own glass on the table before taking Sam’s hand in his own. “I can’t say it’s something I’ve never done. I mean, I’ve had my fair share of fun in any way that tickled my fancy.”

 Pausing, Gabriel made sure Sam was looking at him and not their joined hands before he continued. “But I’ve never been with anyone else while in a relationship with someone, Sam, I’ve never cheated. I don’t want anyone else in our bed either, Hell we never even made a Free-Five list.” Winking at Sam who blinked slightly Gabriel chuckled. “A list of five celebs we can bang without it being called cheating if we get the chance.”

 Pecking Sam’s lips before the man could speak, Gabriel spoke. “And I have no intentions of making said list, in case you’re wondering. My point is, while I think it’s a bit too soon to promise you forever I can promise that for as long as it’s us I don’t want anyone else.” Letting his words skin in, Gabriel moved to place a leg on either side of the taller man, straddling his lap and hooking his arms around the man’s neck.

 “Besides,” spoke Gabriel while placing small kisses along Sam’s jaw and down his neck. “You’re tall enough to count as two people anyways.” Nipping at Sam’s ear when his remark got Gabriel the laugh he had been looking for, the blond pressed his pelvis down onto Sam. “Now, the way I see it I have this new bed that hasn’t been broken in yet… think you can help me fix that?”

 As he had been to the house before with Gabriel before he moved in, Sam wasted no time waiting for instructions on the layout and instead lifted the man while standing. It was a bit of a walk to the bedroom, made longer as Sam pressed Gabriel against the walls to kiss him and help Gabriel out of his clothing. By the time Sam opened the door which was thankfully ajar, Gabriel was down to his skin and Sam had lost his lower clothing along the way.

 Dropping Gabriel onto the mattress, Sam went to pull off his shirt when Gabriel stopped him. “Leave it on.” Requested the shorter man, pulling out the lube and a condom. “I want you to wear it until after, please?” Not wanting to explain himself, Gabriel flipped open the cap of the lubricant and squirted some on his fingers before bracing himself on one arm and kneeling on the bed. Reaching behind himself, Gabriel rubbed a finger around his hole, grunting as Sam knelt behind him and spread his cheeks so he could watch as Gabriel opened himself.

 “What do you need tonight, Baby?” asked Sam, his voice rough while Gabriel pushed his finger inside. Closing his eyes, the blond worked the finger, pumping and stretching as Sam watched. “I want you to take me,” Gabriel’s voice choked off as he added another finger, the fabric of Sam’s shirt touching the back of Gabriel’s leg from how Sam was kneeling behind him.

 “How do you want me to take you, Gabe? Do you want it slow? Fast? Do you want me to love you tonight?” Having not noticed the lube and condom being taken from beside him, Gabriel yelped in surprise when a slick third finger entered alongside his own. “Or do you want me to fuck you? Take you so hard it could have been two people?”

 “Yes!” Gabriel cried out, Sam having twisted his finger at the right angle as he spoke. “Please, Sam… please I need you to fuck me. Thought about it… how I wanted you to take me on this bed… in this house… want you to fucking claim me.”

 Having his hand tugged away from his ass, Gabriel was quick to brace himself as not a moment later Sam was fully sheathed inside him. Unable to do more than hold on, Gabriel had to brace his hands against the headboard as Sam started to move. Unlike how they typically were between the sheets, Sam didn’t hesitate to plow into him, making Gabriel scoot up the bed. Gabriel was beyond being able to even moan, his voice cutting out into harsh breaths and choked cries as Sam took him.

 It was everything he asked for. Sam’s hands were holding his hips tightly, and Gabriel could nearly feel the skin beginning to bruise at the tight grip. His cock twitched and swayed with the force of Sam’s thrusts into him. Gabriel was unable to move an arm to his dick, though with how his orgasm was building he doubted he would need to. A deep grunt from the body behind him caused Gabriel to turn his head slightly, just able to catch a glimpse of Sam over his shoulder.

 Sam was panting, his hips pivoting and causing their skin to slap together as he buried himself into Gabriel. His eyes were closed, head tilted back while large hands kept Gabriel’s hips in place. Canting his pelvis, Gabriel cried out as Sam pounded against his prostate. Hearing Gabriel, Sam leaned over and slowed down his pace ever so slightly, so he could reach the smaller man's neck with his mouth.

 “Fuck Gabe… you said… you wanted a claim… right?”

 Unable to answer, Gabriel whined. Sam placed an arm to brace against the headboard which let Gabriel move his own hips back to meet Sam’s. Apparently not needing a verbal response, Sam licked the side of Gabriel’s neck before finding the spot he wanted and bit down. The pain of having teeth deep in his skin was a shock, enough of one that it threw Gabriel over the edge.

 Barely making a sound while he came, Gabriel’s body froze, his passage tightening around Sam’s cock. Sam didn’t let go of the spot he was biting, instead, he sucked the skin, pinning Gabriel with his larger body and surrounding him in the scent the smaller man was growing addicted to. Having expected Sam to finish inside him, Gabriel was surprised when the taller man pulled out and rolled Gabriel onto his back. Blinking up at Sam, Gabriel watched as the brunet pulled the condom off his leaking shaft.

 Tossing the latex into the bin Gabriel had made certain was beside the bed, Sam looked at Gabriel with lust-blown eyes. While he wasn’t sure what Sam wanted, Gabriel spread his legs for his lover, eager for anything Sam wanted to do. His head was still slightly foggy from the force of his orgasm, and there was semen on his stomach and the comforter under him, but Gabriel wanted to please Sam.

 “I told you I was gonna fuck you like it could have been two people, didn’t I?”

 Nodding his head, Gabriel watched as Sam pumped his long, reddened cock. Instead of slotting himself against Gabriel, Sam straddled his chest and leaned forward pulling the bottom of his shirt up so his cock was in front of Gabriel’s face. Opening his mouth, Gabriel took the head of Sam’s cock inside, closing his eyes while relishing the taste of his lover.

 It wasn’t something they did often, Gabriel got hurt frequently at work and while he was always tested he would never forgive himself if he passed something on to Sam that he caught through an open wound. Sam, on the other hand, was clean, and Gabriel loved it when he could take Sam to the back of his throat. Humming, Gabriel ignored the lingering taste of latex and took Sam deep inside his throat.

 As his head didn’t have much room to move Sam thrust his hips, forcing more of his cock inside of Gabriel’s mouth before pulling out. His rhythm was still harsh, punishing almost, but Gabriel craved it. Lifting a hand to Sam’s ass, Gabriel squeezed which caused Sam’s hips to stutter for a moment and jerk. The added touch was all Sam needed to get off. Groaning, Sam shoved his cock as deep as he could down Gabriel’s throat causing tears to form on his lover’s face while he swallowed rope after rope of come.

 When he needed to breathe, Gabriel tapped on Sam’s hip who moved off his chest to lay down beside his lover on the mattress. Both were panting, though Gabriel couldn’t help the grin on his face while he turned to face his boyfriend. Sam was laying on his back, his shirt still on although sticking to his chest. Trailing a hand along Sam’s stomach, Gabriel pulled at the shirt, which Sam was quick to help off his body until they were both naked.

 They needed to clean up, Gabriel could feel his earlier release on his skin and he doubted the blankets made it unspoiled. Instead of moving off the bed, Gabriel placed his head on Sam’s chest and closed his eyes while the larger man wrapped an arm around him. They remained in silence for a few minutes until Sam caught his breath.

 “Do I wanna ask what the shirt was about?” Sam asked, lightly trailing a hand along Gabriel’s arm and side. Placing a quick kiss on Sam’s skin, Gabriel answered with a flush on his cheeks that had nothing to do with their earlier activities. “You’re going to laugh,” began Gabriel, hooking his leg over Sam’s so they were cuddled together. “I like the smell when you come home from work. While you may not work in the shop often it kind of clings to you, you know? I guess I just like how it mixes in and makes me think of you.”

 Sam sat up a bit and reached over to the drawer where Gabriel had shoved a few things. While Gabriel hadn’t been expecting much for a reaction, having his lover ignore the subject wasn’t what he wanted. When Sam turned to him again, Gabriel noticed the tall man was holding a small package of wet wipes he had thrown inside the drawer and was pulling one out. As Sam began to clean off Gabriel’s skin, the blond listened as Sam spoke.

 “You know, when you first started going back to work after we got together it drove me nuts that you were always clean when you got home.” Sam tossed the wipe in the bin before replacing the package back in the drawer. The two settled under the blankets, facing each other. “The longer you stuck around through the more I was able to pick up. At first, I thought you were cheating on me, I mean sure you said you were looking for a place, but we only met every few days and you always took me back to a hotel room, never an apartment.”

 Gabriel went to speak when Sam shook his head, silencing him. “Then you showed me the place you were leasing. It was nice, cozy and I noticed how you seemed to relax a bit more around me. Now we spend most nights together, or at least part of our day when you’re not working. Still, every time you came back from work you never let me see you until you’re cleaned and smell like soap and most of the time disinfectant.”

 “Until you showed me this place I still thought you might have been cheating. I know it’s not fair, you said you weren’t sleeping with anyone else and I doubted you.” Sam placed his hand on Gabriel’s arm, right over the still-healing gash he had gotten on his last job. It wasn’t as deep as some of the others, but it had bled for a while before he had managed to get it to stop. “I know you’re not cheating on me, Gabriel. But sometimes I wish you would let me see you after work, dirty with your hair sticking out from how you run your hand through it while stressed.”

 Nodding his head, Gabriel closed the distance between them and pressed his lips against Sam’s. “I can do that some time… but if you wanna catch me after work it means you have to be here after work. Wanna increase the odds of you seeing me once my shift ends?” Pulling back, Gabriel smiled at the way Sam squinted his eyebrows. “Move in with me,” continued Gabriel. “Think about it, Dean could move into the apartment above his shop, this place has more than enough room… and you already said we see each other as often as we can anyways.”

 Licking his dry lips, Gabriel placed his hand on Sam’s cheek. “We’ve only been together a few months, and I would completely understand if it’s too fast… but I want you here with me every day, I want to come home knowing that it’s you I’m coming home to. Will you move in with me Sam?”

 For a second Sam didn’t answer, and while he knew it was a possibility Gabriel was surprised at how the rejection hurt. A second later, his boyfriend was kissing him. Pushed back on the mattress, Gabriel moaned his agreement as Sam pressed them together. As the broke the kiss, Gabriel and Sam both had happy grins on their faces.

 “Yes,” said Sam, placing soft kisses along Gabriel’s face. “Rent is paid for the rest of the month, so we have plenty of time to move. Fuck Gabe, I can’t wait.” Laughing as Sam kissed him again, Gabriel’s voice was muffled slightly until Sam pulled back enough so he could speak, bracing himself on his forearms while holding his body above Gabriel.

 “Trust me, I’m just as excited… but unless you’re ready for round two you should probably stop making out with me naked.”

 While he had been going for making Sam laugh, Gabriel didn’t stop his moan as Sam rolled his hips. “Oh, I have every intention of another round before I let you sleep tonight.” Gabriel pulled Sam’s head down for another kiss, aware that by the end of the night he would be too tired to move beyond breathing. Hooking his legs around Sam to reverse their positions, Gabriel grinned while planning how he wanted to take the other.

 Eyeing up Sam’s neck, Gabriel licked the salty skin before sucking it into his mouth. Hopefully, by the end of the night, neither of them would be able to walk right for a week. Turnabout was fair play after all.

   P.S. If you want to keep up to date on my writing add me to Facebook, Tumbler, Twitter or Instagram as CrowNoYami ;-) Also, if you want to see what I’m reading (I always review so you know what you’re getting into) I’m on Goodreads as well, the same name as always.

[allofusandco]

D

with @amadnessofmuses

Benny, who runs a diner, finds a very strange kid raiding his kitchen.

Dean:

His heart beat in his chest, breath coming in short pants as his body slammed into something solid. He could feel the fear creeping up his spine, spreading over his skin, hairs standing up along his body in its wake. The light was bright in his eyes, blinding him, stinging until he closed them against it. His mind flashed to the first time it had happened. It had been the same then.

He’d been playing in the corn field when the noise has started, the same one that rang in his ears now, he’d run, heart beating so fast, terror propelling him through the rows and rows of corn that blocked his view. He’d run into the light, the same one that was receding behind his eyes. They were leaving again. Leaving him alone once more. Darkness always meant he was alone.

Shaking, the boy pushed himself into a crouching position, ready to run, eyes searching the tree line, taking in the surroundings. Woods, trees, swamp. There would be food this time, he could eat, he could make shelter but there would be predictors, there was always predators. Panting softly, he pushed himself to his feet; ears straining for any sound that would let him know where to go. He was silent as he stepped forward, bare feet making no sound on the muddy swamp floor. His brain told him to stay away from the water; his training said it wouldn’t be safe to drink anyways. Looking down at himself his eyes widened at what he was dressed in, jeans, ripped at the knee and coated in blood from a gash in his knee long since healed. A t-shirt with a band name he wasn’t sure he remembered any more, something itched in his mind, a tune, something foggy to couldn’t really get too. Usually they gave him more supplies than this, food for the first two days of survival while he got his bearings, small weapons, sometimes at least a knife, this time there was nothing.

The boy took a hesitant step forward, eyes turning up to the horizon, the sun was long since gone, it was late, the moon sitting in the peak of the sky. He had a few hours till the sun came up. He could stay awake till then, he’d stayed awake longer. He didn’t know if he could go that long without food, not as his stomach rumbled, the sound echoing over the hum of bugs, over the sound of music. Music? There had never been music before.

Cocking his head to the side he listened, eyes closed as he pinpointed where it was coming from as he cleared his mind, pushing out with his powers. It was easy enough to find the source of the sound, a radio, in the back of a kitchen, a diner with food. Even now he could smell it as his mind mapped him out a path to get there. No obstructions, a few humanoids but nothing he didn’t think he could take. They didn’t appear to have any weapons or powers, not like him.

Taking off at a run, he slid twice, bare feet slipping in the mud that splashed along his legs as he ran, mouth watering for the food he could smell. When he reached the diner his eyes scanned the small building, seeing two men out in front, as he snuck around the back through one of the doors, nose guiding him to the food.

Reaching out he grabbed the food by the handfuls, shoving it into his mouth as he eyed the men. He wished he could remember what he was eating, the taste, the flavor, it all stirred something in his mind behind the training, but he couldn’t care. He needed to eat and needed not to get caught but he could see the man turning around, green eyes wide as he took in the scene, mind mapping escape routes as he shoveled more food into his cheeks.

–––––

Benny:

Quiet sort of night, nothing special for mid-week, when he was busier at lunchtime anyway. Handful of regulars, the ones he knew by name and the ones who never spoke a word except to order the same thing every day, eyes cold because they didn’t want to be known. Couldn’t run a place like this as long as Benny had without learning when to leave someone the hell alone.

Probably time to turn the deep fryer, but Benny was sat at the bar chewing on a toothpick, hand curved around a mug of cooling coffee he’d have dearly liked to top up with a little bourbon, talking. Charlie Pitt, owner of the pawn shop just off fourth, talking as he so often did about Vietnam. Wasn’t a single word in his story that Benny hadn’t heard at least a dozen times but he never minded listening. And he was tired. Sort of tired that creeps up when nothing really happens or changes for a few years, wearing a man down.

“Saw him a couple of years later,” Charlie was saying. “Didn’t even recognize me. Junk, you know. Start on that shit to dull the memories and it eats your soul.” He drained his mug and Benny reached automatically for the coffee jug, topping it up. Glass washer finished its run and he returned to his place behind the counter to polish all the glasses before they dried too streaky. He adjusted the dial on the radio (good music on a weeknight, but during the day, Benny preferred to pick his own than play the cheesy pop the station preferred; nothing but holy rollers and talk back that put his teeth on edge on any other station he could tune to, just here).

“Benny,” Charlie said, and Benny raised an eyebrow. Something sharp in the man’s tone. “Got a rat in the kitchen.”

“No rats in my kitchen,” Benny said, shaking his head. “Could eat off the floor back there. Shut up before you put me out of business, Charlie.”

“Not that kinda rat,” Charlie said.

Benny turned to look. Stuck there like a deer in the headlights, barely visible behind the heat lamp he’d turned off an hour or more ago, was a kid. Benny didn’t have a whole lot of experience with them, but he’d have guessed he was about ten or twelve. Dirty face and hair, a t-shirt that looked too big for him, eyes wide, cheeks bulging like a chipmunk’s; hands still in the half cold basket of chips he’d made to tide himself over a little while back and forgotten about.

“Hey,” he said, putting down the glass. “Hey, kid. You’re not in trouble. Just…”

He didn’t look like some casual thief, the kids who occasionally broke in overnight looking (and failing) to steal liquor, pouring ketchup all over the place. Looked hungry.

He took a few halting steps towards the kitchen, palms up.

“You lost, kid? I can call someone for you.”

–––––

Dean:

There was a back door to his left, it led out into the swamp. There was the door to the kitchen, that led him out the front but it would take him past the man, so would the door he had come in. His only hope would be the back and he was sure that was what the man thought too. Shoving another handful of food into his mouth he swallowed down some of the others he had been chewing on. The man said he wasn’t in trouble, so had they.

What was curious was the way the light around the man showed, he showed blue, he showed good and he wanted to trust him but he didn’t know if he could. Maybe the monster in this round were different just to confuse him. Then again he looked just like a human not a monster. Giving himself a few more seconds to decide he took in the other man in the building the light around him shown in blue too, it would have helped if one was red, there was never good guys only the bad guys and the monsters.

Panting through his nose he took a step back, hands curling around as much food as he could get before he took off heading for the side door, hands forcing the soft food into his pockets. He could go back the way he came in. The path was clear and the route was safe, he could still see the energy lines he’d left behind when he came in. They would be easy enough to follow. he had to get past him, even if he was bigger than him. He had fought off bigger, that was when he had weapons however. This time he didn’t, all he had was his powers and food slick fingers as he tried to run past the guy, arms coming up to try and block him from touching him.

–––––

Benny:

There was that hospital. Next county, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. Benny was pretty sure after a week or two of hospital food, even cold chips would taste pretty good. Long way to come, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. Could even have been one from the… well, where they looked after kids who weren’t quite right in the noggin.

But no, he’d guessed that far too quick. Benny watched the kid’s eyes dart around the room, weighing up all threats and possibilities, including Benny himself, deciding he was better off heading back the way he came, where he at least knew the dangers. He was smart, quick. And slippery as hell. Something bad had happened to him, bad enough so he had honed his instincts, in a way no kid should ever have to.

But Benny was no slouch, and he was fast enough, despite his size. The race to the door was brief, but Benny had an arm around the kid’s waist and the door closed pretty damn quick. Still talking.

“Well, now, if you’re willin’ to stuff your pockets full of those nasty cold chips, wonder what you’d do for a basket of them, fresh and hot? Cook y’ up a burger, maybe, get y’ a chocolate shake.” Give him time to… well, Benny didn’t know quite what, call the police, maybe?

Or not. No, just get him talking, see if he could figure a few things out.

“Or a can of coke. You tell me. Even got some pecan pie, for dessert.”

He felt the resistance let up, and pulled away just far enough to see the kid’s face properly. He was filthy. Hands, face, his hair. If he was on the run from someone he had been for a while.

“Y’can call me Benny,” Benny said. “You got a name, chief?”

He turned on the deep fryer again; wouldn’t take long to be ready.

–––––

Dean:

The kid was shocked when the man’s arms came around him the door closing before he had ever gotten a chance to get close to it. He hadn’t expected the man to move that fast. It wouldn’t matter if he used his mind on him but he at least knew that physically beating him was out of the picture. Instead he stood where the man left him, breathing slow and even as he concentrated on him. He sounded like he was telling the truth, he sounded like he did want to feed him but he wasn’t sure.

Closing his eyes for the briefest of seconds he focused on the part of his mind that could read people, that could read their energies. When green eyes opened again he could see colors around the man, the way his own energy and the man’s mingled, his own trusted him. Something about the colors and feel of him said he was good. He showed in colors of blues and purples and not in reds and yellows that made him a bad man.

Blinking, he took a step back, head cocking slightly to the side as he reached into his pocket pulling out the food he had been eating and offering it back to the guy. His stomach growled and it took everything he had not to eat the cold chips. That was what the man had called them.

“Chips,” he echoed the word and the food back to him.  He didn’t want them if he could have better. He didn’t want chips if there was pie.

“Pie,” he added. Something about he word he remembered. Something about it made him want to smile inside. He didn’t know why and he couldn’t find a memory to put behind it but he wanted it.

–––––

Benny:

Such a strange kid. Benny mighta thought he was one egg short of a dozen, if not for those eyes. But he took the cold chips (kid needed some clean clothes, who had a son this size?), and tossed them in the trash.

“Strictly speaking,” he said, ushering the kid to a table, “pie is dessert, and dessert comes after. But somehow I don’t think anyone’s gonna stop us. G’night, Charlie,” he said, as his friend left, last one for the night. He locked the door and flipped over the closed sign. On the counter was a platter with two-thirds of a pecan pie Benny had made only yesterday. He cut a double-sized slice, added a scoop of ice cream for kicks, and set it down in front of the kid, with a dessert fork and a long-handled spoon.

“I’m Benny,” he said. “This is my place. So anything you want, long as I can make it, I’ll make it. Sure would like a name for you, though. Somethin’ I can call you, since ‘kid’ sounds a little rude.”

Not big on talking, though.

“And if there’s someone you think I should phone… mom or dad? Grandparents?” Something told Benny parents weren’t part of this picture, though what, he couldn’t have said. Maybe just the fact the kid was running around out there starving. He supposed if nothing else, he should call child services, though the thought made him ill; no kid had a great time once they were in the system, and it changed them. He scratched his head. Had to clean that little face up, but he wasn’t sure he wanted to get between the kid and his pie.

“Maybe I’ll join you.”

He cut himself a slice as well, and sat again.

“So. You ready to tell me? Your name? Or am I gonna have to make something up?”

–––––

Dean:

The kid watched every move the man made every step, every move of his hand, every turn and every breath. He watched as he cut the pie and put something cold and wet looking on top of it and then as he got himself the same thing. He wanted to eat it but he had eaten bad things before and he didn’t want this to be a thing. He didn’t want to deal with that again. He could still remember the pain in his stomach, the way he had curled up on the ground unable to move, they’d had to pull him out of the training earlier than he should have been and he had missed his reward. He didn’t like it when he didn’t get his reward.

So he waited, waited with wide green eyes watching the man carefully, fingers twitching on the table beside his fork as he waited for Benny to eat his. When he did, once the man swallowed his bite he dove into his own, fork in the center of his curled fist. He pushed at the stuff on top watching as it slid off the side of the pie and onto the plate below. When it was gone he dove into the pie scooping up half of it at once and shoveling it into his mouth, cheeks bulging as he tried to get it down as fast as he could. He didn’t know when Benny would change his mind and take it back.

With his other hand he held out his arm, to show it to the man who had asked his name. On the inside of his left arm just an inch or so below his elbow was a single letter. D.

“D” he offered, voice a little gruff as he stuffed another large bite of pie into his mouth, working on this one just a little slower than the first.

–––––

Benny:

Benny remembered back in elementary school; hit and miss affair, out here, it always had been, some kids showing up on the regular, some making an appearance once or twice a week, many without shoes. The church brought school lunches for the poor kids, and some of them you’d see eat so fast they couldn’t have tasted a damn thing, like if they didn’t do that someone else might come and take it (and knowing some of their older brothers and sisters, sometimes that was the plain and simple truth of it).

“Slow down,” he said. “You’re gonna do yourself an injury.” He stood and brought the rest of the pie down to put on the table. “All yours, much as you like. I ain’t gonna take it, hell, I made it. And I can make another one.”

At last that arm uncurled. Benny almost recoiled. What kind of a monster tattooed a little kid like that?

“Uh-huh,” he said, scratching his chin, and trying not to betray the horror he felt. Would you have to hold a kid down, to do that? Kid seemed kinda stoic. Maybe not. “D. Big D. Yeah, okay, D. Look at that. Now I know your name and you know mine, we’re friends. Time to celebrate with some more pie.”

He couldn’t call child services. He couldn’t do something that might end with this poor kid being handed back to folks who’d mark his skin like that when he was barely old enough for long pants. Benny watched for a while. Real food would be smarter but he wasn’t gonna argue the point.

“Maybe now we’re friends you wanna tell me a little bit about yourself,” he said. “Like, maybe we could play a game. You tell me the first thing you remember seein’ when you woke up this morning.”

… yeah, nice try, Benny.

“Or the last thing you remember when you went to sleep last night. Your pick.”

–––––

Dean:

D’s eyes went wide when the rest of the pie was sat in front of him and he slowed down even more swallowing the large bite in his mouth and filling it without a second thought with another mouthful. The man talked and D listened. He liked the way the man’s words matched up with the way his aura moved around them. He could tell he was being honest, the blue swirls at the back of each word indicated that he was being truthful, the bubbles matched.

When the bright men had done this to him he hadn’t let them know that he could tell this,  whenever they said something to him, whenever ever they would lie the colors around them would change, their words turning a nasty yellow green color.

“I don’t know,” he mumbled around a mouthful of pie. Pushing himself up in the chair he leaned forward eyes on Benny as his tongue peaked out from between his lips. He leaned down licking the top of the other pie before stabbing his fork into the center of it a snarled Mine leaving his lips.

He knew the man didn’t intend to take it but he had to just so no others showed up to take it from him. Returning to his seat he stayed poised ready to strike as he used his hands to eat the pie, licking it from his fingers.

“They’ll come back,” he added softly. He didn’t know what the purpose of this test was or why he was here without fighting but he knew they would be back. They always came back.

Leaning down under the table from his chair, mouth still full of pie he let his eyes scan the sky for their lights, when he didn’t see them he sat back up, stuffing his face with more pie. He wanted to answer the man’s question, he wanted to show him what he saw last night when he went to bed, what he saw when he got up.

“Wanna see?” He asked moving so he could stand up on the chair and then onto the table, steps light and easy, dirty bare feet stepping carefully over the plates of pie until he was face to face with Benny. Narrowing his green eyes he could feel them roll to the back of his head, vision going dark as he sent the man an image of his cell from the night before. The small cell was all glass, he knew it because he had seen it from the outside, from the inside however it was all white, nothing but white creating the illusion that it stretched for ever when in reality it was only a few feet.  The next image was the first one he remembered when he had been dropped from the light above him and into the dark swamp, the view of his own restaurant looming in the background.

Pulling away from the man’s mind he stood there panting as he came back from the vision, chest heaving as he panted in small gasp of air, he could still feel the sharp pain in his head as he moved over the table and back to his seat. Reaching up for more pie he shoved some in his mouth, hand wiping the blood from his nose like it was nothing out of the normal. For him it wasn’t, this time it wasn’t even bad. Next time it would be easier because he wouldn’t have to forge a link with the man’s mind.

–––––

Benny:

Benny had a vague idea that it was a really bad idea to let a kid stuff his face with nothing but pie, but he didn’t want to walk away and make something else, either. Besides, rough day, apparently. Maybe he’d try for something green and leafy tomorrow. He’d come up with something that might appeal. Never saw a kid turn down a burger and fries.

He didn’t laugh when D – was he really gonna call the kid D? – licked the pie. This was a kid who’d learned to fight for his food, and it worried Benny too much to let him so much as crack a smile.

“Y’know, folks around here like my cooking, but I ain’t never seen someone appreciate it with this much gusto,” he said, angling his head to work out what the damn hell the kid was doing under the table. He’d never felt so far out of his depths before. He sat up straight again. Who did he know, who knew about kids? The woman who was always comin’ by asking’ him to go to one church thing or another; she had kids. Benny didn’t want to call, though, because she had some funny ideas about him, too. Or she might call the cops.

“See what?” he asked. It was unsettling, to suddenly find himself so close; D’s eyes were huge and a bright green Benny wasn’t sure he’d seen anywhere before, save maybe on a cat. He startled as they rolled back. Seizure? Benny wanted to reach out, try to catch him before he fell, but he was overcome, suddenly.

He couldn’t move, not until it was done. Couldn’t make much sense of the first, but something told him there wasn’t much sense to make of it, either. The second one was clear enough. But more to the point; how the hell had the hid even done that?

Benny was badly shaken. Always figured on his being a practical sort of fellow, not prone to flights of fancy, never really believed in anything he couldn’t see with his own eyes. But that – his head wanted him to believe it was a hospital, somewhere, that same hospital he’d been thinking on before. But he didn’t believe that. Couldn’t even force himself to believe that. He just sat, pale and still as a ghost, as D tucked into his pie again.

When he could force himself to, he moved to the counter to fetch some paper napkins, and placed them on the table alongside D’s plate.

“Your nose,” he said, though it didn’t seem to be bugging the kid none. Benny felt like he was losing his mind, the images he’d seen… no, it wasn’t that. This was all about the way he’d seen them. This was all about the fact that a kid with bare feet and pie all over his dirty face had pushed those pictures into his mind.

“Seems to me we gotta do something to keep you safe, Big D,” said Benny, hating the way his voice sounded thread, low as it was. His hands shook slightly. He was exhausted, suddenly, and needed to sleep. Was that his mind stepping in to protect him or had that brief link really worn him out so bad?

“Reckon you should stay here,” he said, crossing his arms on the table so his hands wouldn’t shake. “I don’t know who the hell’s after you, kiddo, but I don’t guess we should let them find you. You can’t run around out there.” He pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “My place is out the back. I got a couch, we can make you up a bed. I guess you ain’t slept anywhere that comfy in a while.” He only hoped the kid slept at all.

–––––

Dean:

D was focused on the pie, the one on his plate until it was gone and then the one in the pan he was tugging closer and eating with just as much vigor as he had the first piece. He wasn’t worried about the man and what he had done. It had been done to him and he was still alive. He didn’t even think twice about what it could be doing to Benny and how it could be affecting him. It hurt, that was part of the process but that didn’t mean he should worry, Benny would be fine. At least he thought that he would.

He watched Benny carefully with curious green eyes, leaning over slightly in his seat to see around him at what he was pointing his thumb at. He didn’t see anything back there but the door and he wasn’t sure what Benny was talking about, he knew he was safe and didn’t mean him harm but that didn’t mean he wasn’t a little weird.

Swallowing the mouthful of pie he was working on he leaned back into his seat, eyes fixed one again on Benny, head tilted slightly to the side as he played his words over in his mind again. “What’s a couch?”

–––––

Benny:

Trying to have a regular conversation with this kid was like trying to argue with a funhouse mirror. Benny didn’t know which way was up. Though he wasn’t sure he wanted to know, either. He felt a tremor in his hand, and watched Dean continue to eat like the laws of the universe didn’t just get beat all the way out of shape.

“A couch is… like what you’re sitting on, that bench, only it’s soft. You can sit on it, or you can stretch out to sleep. I’ll find you a soft blanket, too, that’ll keep you warm and comfortable. Pillow to rest your head. You can have a bath in the morning, wash some of that dirt off you. And we’ll figure out what to do next.”

And he’d cook a good breakfast, or this kid was going to be running around on a sugar high for days, which might not be the best considering his powers.

“You can have some more pie tomorrow,” Benny promised. “But you must be beat.” Had to be, the pictures he’d put in Benny’s head. Benny clenched his hands into fists and splayed them out again, working out the tremor.

–––––

Dean:

D thought that a couch sounded like fun, some place soft to stretch out. He almost felt like he remembered a couch before but he didn’t know where he would have seen it. Shoving the last bite of pie in his mouth he dropped his licked his fingers clean before wiping them on his pants and looking at the man again when he said he was beat.

Wrinkling his face up, he looked around ducking down once again to look out the window at the sky before letting out a laugh. “You haven’t beat me,” he laughed.

“If I was beat they would have come, I’m not beat yet,” he added voice serious as he looked at Benny. Benny seemed nice but he didn’t seem to understand what was going on here. Somewhere there was something to battle, something he had to fight. That was how it always went. He got put on a planet and had to fight, Benny was saying he was beat but he wasn’t beat yet.

–––––

Benny:

Benny blinked at D, and glanced at the window, trying to understand what the kid was lookin’ at. Beat. Beat, As in hurt, maybe, or like he didn’t win, or…

“Naw, kid. Beat, as in tired, y’know. Y’feelin’ tired?”

Jesus, maybe the kid didn’t even sleep. Benny tried to think through the images that were still swirling in his head, but his conscious mind seemed to be trying to eliminate them like the remainder of bad dreams in the morning light. Did he see anything that said D even slept? The blinding disorientation of finding himself somewhere unexpected… if he got shifted all over the ass end of the galaxy and back again every time he closed his eyes, he might not want to sleep.

“D… you ever close your eyes, and…” This was absurd. “Let your body be still for a few hours, maybe you get to dream about a pretty girl… wake up with the sun out. Wake up in the same place, like?” How did you explain sleeping to someone who didn’t? Benny hoped he was wrong. If there had ever been a kid who needed a good night’s sleep, it was this kid right here.

–––––

Dean:

D watched as Benny struggled to explain something to him. Did he ever close his eyes and see pretty girls? Did he close them and open them in the same place? He had closed his eyes plenty of times and seen people. It was a thing he was trained to do. The men had shown him how.

                   “I see people all the time when I close my eyes.”

He wasn’t sure what the man was trying to tell him about in this world. Maybe it was some kind of power that Benny had. Sitting up straight, he closed his eyes, letting himself sink into the darkness, searching out the nearest mind past Benny’s, searching for a girl. As he walked through the blackness he could see a speck of white coming closer, the neon outline the trees and things around him took coming into view as he walked around the space outside f the building he was in.

                  “There’s a girl down the road. She’s pretty; she’s in stasis with                   a man. He’s in a deeper stasis then her. They don’t have any                   weapons in the house. They have a smaller girl. She’s alone in                   her room and the window is open.”

He opened his eyes then, a grin spreading over his lips as he looked at Benny, leaning in over the table some, a predator ready to pounce.

                   “Do you want me to catch her for you?”

–––––

Benny:

Benny watched in rapt fascination as D closed his eyes, focusing, and began to speak. Might as well have been a different language, but Benny got there eventually. Stasis – sleep. He was seeing June and her husband, and their girl. The words ‘no weapons in the house’ gave him a chill, but he didn’t think the kid was malicious.

He reached out a hand, and patted D’s hand. “You don’t need to catch anyone,” he said, feeling overwhelmingly sad. Was this kid just bending over backwards to please him, or was that what he’d been trained to do? And trained by who? Benny’s mind went to government conspiracy easily enough, but this seemed infinitely stranger than that. If the government couldn’t get their shit together to fix a damn street sign, he didn’t think they could be smart enough to manage this, either.

“Stasis,” he repeated. “I guess that’s what I mean when I say sleep. Do you go into stasis, Big D? ’cause that’s what I meant about the couch. It’s good for you. Gives your mind a rest, and your body, too. I ain’t gonna let anyone take you, kid. Not from my house.” As if there was a damn thing he could do about it. He offered his hand.

~complete~