#OC!Winchester x Castiel

[goest-and-fuckest-thyself-blog]

Tired of “bunny” readers. I want FOX readers that are clever and aren’t able to be MANIPULATED!!! Give me “I knew he was playing a game, but he didn’t know he fell right into my trap!” Readers dangit! Give the smart neurospicy girls fics without infantilising them!

[lailawinchesterr]

nightmare [dean winchester]

pairing; dean w x fem! reader summary; you go on a hunt with the brothers but when it goes to shit, dean can’t help being overprotective. tags; angst, stitching yourself, alcoholic dean, some you and sam in there cause he's the cutest baby, your dad died.

“fuck! sam, quick, get the girls.” dean runs into the impala forcing the engine to roar to life and flashes his lights at the highest setting for the vampires, burning their eyes as the other four get into it and he drives off.

it's quite for the first five minutes, except for the heavy breathing. the two girls that the trio rescued are sleeping peacefully, though you think it's anything but peaceful. their faces aren't relaxed, instead covered in blood and frowning, but their breaths have slowed, at least.

five minutes. that's all it takes before the tension is broken with a, “let me drive, dean.” the older winchester lets out an exaggerated airy laugh for all of two seconds before putting on a straight face and telling him no. “you're hurt, you can hardly keep your eyes open, let me drive, either of us.”

sam is right, dean is hurt way more than both of you combined, he fought off most of the vampires on his own while you took the girls and ran, but he was mostly hurt because he hadn't expected it.

your plan was to get the girls and dip then come back in the morning to wipe them out in their sleep, but you had woken one of them up with the loudest noise you've ever made when one of the girls stabbed you in the stomach with some glass she’d found on the floor. 

again, taken by surprise. obviously the girls thought you were one of the vampires. 

“shut up. it's only a ten minute drive to the nearest hospital.”

“we're going to a hospital?” you don't usually hunt with sam and dean, opting to stay in the motels and do some research, maybe figure out a better plan, but you've never seen them go to the hospital for their injuries, they'd always come home to you bleeding out on the floor.

“for you and the girls, yes.”

“what about you and sam?”

“it's fine.” that shut you up, his strict tone, and stare in the rear view mirror made you slide down in your seat.

ten minutes later you’ve reached 'northwest tawara horspital' and sam is helping the girls out of the impala. dean, while a wanted fugitive, does the same with you. 

but you refuse. “i won't go inside if you two aren't.”

“what?” he moves a little too quickly and holds his side as he winces. god, that can't be comfortable. 

“i won't go inside, we're just wasting time,” sam comes back and stands in the drivers side to talk to you, door open. “see? sam's back, let's get home quickly so we can fix you both up, and me.”

“no, you're going in.” sam was the one to insist this time but you just shake your head and stay planted into your seat. through the corner of your eye you can see both men discussing what to do then they get back in the car with a sigh.

on the drive home it’s mostly silent until you feel your eyes flutter closed. just a few seconds of sleep— but dean’s loud shout of your name wakes you up, “don't close your eyes, we need to fix you up first.” you nod and straighten up, “and what you did back there? fuckin’ reckless, don't pull that shit again. when we tell you to do something, you do it. or you don't come on hunts with us.”

“what the hell? i was the one who decided i didn't want to come with hunts on you guys, you can't take away my choice.”

“like hell i can't!” he isn't looking at you through the mirror, instead focusing on the road because you're on a busy one, but you can still feel his eyes burning into yours. it makes you shrink down in your seat. you hate how much his words affect you, and how visible it is too. 

sam has has never yelled at you really, but even if he had it wouldn't have done much damage, he's too soft for that. dean though... he scares you sometimes, not that he'd hurt you or kick you out, just that he'd be disappointed in you, maybe give you the silent treatment. you don't want that, but you also hate being barked orders at.

“you can't, dean.” sam says to his brother, slapping his shoulder once to ground him back, and it seems to have worked. because you’re not a bad hunter— if anything, you have their back most of the time, you aren’t clumsy or unreliable and what happened had been a mistake that any other hunter would have made. this isn’t about hunting. this is about dean being too controlling.

you thought it was over now that you're at the motel but when he parks baby, he looks back at you, “i can, and i fucking will. you can't act like a child and expect us to let you come on the hunts. you listen to whatever the fuck we tell you to do.” your lips part in surprise, thinking of how to respond, but he doesn't even give you the chance and gets out, slamming the door behind him. 

you don't look at sam as you close baby's door and start walking to the motel. sam catches up and tells you to wait and because you don't have it in you to be yelled at anymore, you turn back and face him.

he says your name, low and soft, “that wasn't an order,” 

shut up before i cry “hey,” he hugs you, your head on his chest and you just let it all out. god, you feel so stupid. you can't believe you were so unprepared and you caused them all this damage. if you had just been in defense mode you would've never screamed, you've been through worst and kept quite. and though you know it’s a little irrational, you can’t help but blame yourself for not being quiet.

“hey, he's just worried about you, he means well, you know that.” you let go slightly and he kisses your forehead, telling you to go into their room and that he'll be in yours to get cleaned up. 

+

walking into the room of the man who just basically called you a two year old is nerve-wrecking. you don't want to be screamed at and god knows you don't want to be treated like a child again. every time you think you’re getting through to dean, or that you’re becoming closer, something happens and he reminds you you’re still young, naive, and only with them because your dad had told them to.

your father is— was a hunter, he used to hunt with john sometimes, and when he heard about the apocalypse that's soon to be here and all the angels that seem to stride onto earth, he wanted to tie up loose ends, so he asked the winchesters to keep you with them until further notice.

then he never came back. but all of this is something you’ve dealt with ages ago. years even. but this? dean pushing you away all the time? acting like you’re some burden? that, you can’t get over.

“hey,” you hear his voice and turn around, not even having seen him walking towards the bathroom. “how you holding up?”

it’s a stupid attempt to make amends, but it works. the second he says anything, it works. it always does.

“fine.” you mumble and notice he’s finishing supplies to stitch himself up. ouch. you know the boys prefer to do it themselves than help the other out but you’ve always found they need a gentler hand. 

you walk towards him and hold his hand in place to stop his movements, taking the needle from him. he doesn't complain, just drowns the bottle of whiskey. with one hand, the other holding his shirt up. 

when it’s done you hold my hand out for the bottle and he scoffs, as if wasting his alcohol hurts him more than the wound that just got stitched up. he hands it over reluctantly.

you pull down his shirt and decide it’s better if you take a swig too. “does it hurt?” the questions rolls off easily, no matter how angry you are at him. 

“i'll survive.” he shrugs like it's nothing. like the gash over most of his stomach is nothing.

“not what i asked.” dean half-heartedly glares at you but your expectant expression makes him think there isn’t a way out. and there isn’t.

“it's fine, my arm’s just sore.” you sit next to him on the bed, pushing his sleeve up and he hisses, muttering something under his breath and snatching the bottle from your hand to drown it. 

“dean...” it’s surreal. it knocks all the air out of your lungs. you’ve never seen the mark, the one an angel of the lord imprinted on dean’s shoulder, though sam talked about it a couple of times. you clear your throat before he notices the staring and point to the wound, “i think you need to stitch that one too, hand me another needle.”

he does and you get to work. it’s mostly noiseless but it feels like there's something heavy in the air, a confession. though it’s impossible to tell who’s supposed to make it.

“i'm sorry.” you try to hide the surprise on your face by looking down but he doesn't let you, hooking his fingers under your chin and he makes you look up at him. “i was so worried about you.” he lets go, taking a breath in, “the way i felt when you screamed? damn it, i've never felt so scared before and i've been to hell,” he lets out a dry laugh and you smile a little. god he's so perfect.

“i don't wanna hurt you, sweetheart, never, so when i ask you to listen to me it isn't because i'm treating you like a child, i just wanna keep you safe.” there are more words on the tip of his tongue but he shuts up and it doesn’t nothing to help the growing smile on your face. it's more than you thought you’d ever get out of him.

you pour a more of the alcohol on his stitches and pull the sleeve down. “okay, you officially need a shower now, you're all booze and cologne. i need to clean this place up.”

“it's fine, sammy and i will do it.”

“not happening. go get cleaned up, i'll finish here.” you knew that what you’re doing is painfully obvious, but you hope he lets it go, just this once. 

of course he doesn't, instead pulling your shirt up to reveal the various cuts that don’t need stitches, just some treatment, and the stab wound you fixed in the car when they were both too busy sulking in the tension. you’ve gotten a lot better at handling pain since you’ve started with the winchesters.

“when did you do that?”

“doesn't matter, it's done. get in the shower dean, let me clean up and go to sleep.”

“damn it, just answer me when i ask something. when did you do this?”

“car.” you’re scared, tired and you don't want to fight. but he just apologized, for god’s sake, can’t he give it a rest.

you wait for his harsh blow. words that will knock you off my feet, anything really, but he just sighs, letting the shirt go and stands up. you do the same and he embraces you in a hug that you’re quick to reciprocate. so quick you’d already had your arms around his neck before he got his around your waist.

the whiskey burns your nose but it's nothing compared to how your body burns with you so close. “dean?”

“you're so strong, you know?” he takes a beat, a breath, “but that doesn't mean shit to me, i still wanna keep you safe all the time because god knows i don't deserve you but i'm too selfish to let you go.”

you pull away just to see his face. you need to know he means what he's saying. that you’re talking about the both of you in the way you’re thinking. the desperation to convey how he feels to you, it gives you all the confidence in the world to stand a little taller and finally kiss him.

you kiss dean winchester because for the first time in ages, someone cares, someone wants you safe. someone learned from their mistake and did better, someone is fucking perfect and it's dean. 

one of his hands is rough on your waist, the other on you cheek. his tongue, his cologne, it all makes you melt into him. 

then ten seconds later, way too deep into the kiss he pulls away slowly, shakes his head and groans, “why'd you do that.”

you step away him in panic. you were ready for rejection, sure. a small ‘i don't see you like that’, not this.

“i'm sorry, i didn't mean to—”

“no, no, hey,” he steps closer “i just... i don't wanna do this if it's gonna hurt you. i don't know how good i will be if we go down that road and you deserve something good.”

“you are dean,” he licks his bottom lip and it catches you attention, forcing you to bite on yours, “you're good. you're perfect.”

one thing i will not allow in my household is the winchester brothers being insecure that they're not enough (pov it’s all they do). anyways sooo this is for the jensen-a-thon for @artyandink so excited to have my first entry and there’s another one i’ve been working on for a week (hopefully i’m almost done with it). hope you enjoyed this!

[loomis-maxima]

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ: Okay, okay. Supernatural rewatch time and I'm gonna just say it now because I know it's gonna happen eventually. I'm taking requests for Supernatural too! I'm open to writing for any character, x reader, ship fics. (no wincest. that shits weird.) *✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

[artyandink]

my navigation

𝐇𝐞𝐲, 𝐈’𝐦 𝐀𝐫𝐭𝐲! 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐚𝐭 𝐧𝐚𝐯 - 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 - 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐈 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐞𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬! 𝐈𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤, 𝐜𝐥𝐢𝐜𝐤 ‘𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧’𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥’ 𝐨𝐧 𝐦𝐲 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞. 𝐄𝐧𝐣𝐨𝐲!

𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐟𝐟 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐞

𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦 | 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐝 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐨𝐧 𝐝𝐞𝐚𝐧’𝐬 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐞𝐥𝐥

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐬: 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧

𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐭𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤𝐰𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐨.

𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨: 𝐚𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐧𝐚 𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐨

𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐬

𝐦𝐲 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐫

©️ 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐤 / 𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲’𝐬 𝐬𝐭𝐮𝐝𝐢𝐨

𝐈 𝐝𝐨 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐜𝐨𝐩𝐢𝐞𝐝/𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝

[zepskies]

Hey! Do you have any author recs, or SPN AU fic recs?

Why certainly! They're all right here:

Supernatural Fic Rec List

Dean Winchester AU Fic Rec List

[sardonic-the-writer]

woe. self insert + co memes be upon yee (art credit & character names under the cut)

commissioned art in the second and last pictures is by @/noxious-fennec. everything else was made by @/miiilowo

descriptions—

first picture: conversation between crowley (above) and ezra (bottom)

second picture: conversation between dean (left) and ezra (right)

third picture: conversation between gabriel (left) and ezra (right)

fourth picture: gabriel talking

fifth picture: ezra talking

sixth picture: conversation between ezra (right) and crowley (left)

seventh picture: conversation between ezea (right) and castiel (left)

[iamleesi]

THE HUNTERS & THE SOLDIER

Pairing: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x OC! Avenger Reader

Summary: Bucky’s being an idiot once again and you meet someone… quite interesting? Or creepy? You decide. Also a surprise in the end simply because I can.

Warnings: Alcohol, bit of angst (?), gun, annoying lady, allusion to s3x if you squint, mention of Hydra and being watched/ followed -> 18+!!

Other: Forgive me for eventual mistakes but I wrote this in 3 days and I changed my mind about 60 times

-> Masterlist

-> Part twelve ; part fourteen

-> Devil On Your Shoulder (13)

The ticking of the living room clock was the only sound filling the space around you, each second’s click made you lose your hope about Bucky’s return. Hours had passed since Cassandra had knocked at your door and Bucky had stormed out of the house. Sam and Dean had completely disappeared as well - not that you made any efforts in contacting those two, you anger towards them was still very much present - leaving you all alone with the girl.

You hadn’t spoken much to her due to the fear of stressing her out more than she already was; instead, you opted to let her rest in your bedroom for the night, saving the questions for tomorrow.

You had searched the whole neighborhood for Bucky, checking nearby parks or public places he could be at but there was no sign of him, not even his shadow. It was as if he had vanished. In moments like these, you hated to admit how worried sick you were for his safety, knowing Hydra had their eyes on him. If he were to fall into their hands once again because you couldn’t find him, you’d never forgive yourself.

Hours later, that fear consumed your thoughts. You hadn’t eaten anything all day - the scrambled eggs Bucky had made for breakfast were given to Cassandra since she needed it more than you. But you, honestly, weren’t hungry anyway, especially not when Bucky’s phone went straight to voicemail every time you called.

Your attention was caught by the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs, and you turned your head slightly around to see Cassandra coming your way. She was now dressed with some new, clean clothes you had given her, and she seemed to be feeling way better than before.

“Hey.” You tiredly said, as she sat beside you. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“Couldn’t find sleep.” She made a small smile your way, resting her feet on the couch to wrap her arms around her knees. “I’m sorry for earlier.” She mumbled. “I’m sure he’ll be back.”

You looked at her and shook your head at her apologetic tone of voice. “It’s okay, it’s a sensitive topic for him. It’s… I don’t know why he doesn’t pick up the phone.”

Your nervousness intensified once you spoke, voicing your thoughts was like confirming your worries. You began to play with the golden ring on your finger trying to get your mind off of it, but unlike other times it did nothing to ease the growing anxiety gnawing at you. He had specifically told you to call him once Cassie had calmed down, and you did, but he ignored you.

And, to be completely honest here, being ignored was the best case scenario your brain could think of.

Cassandra’s voice brought you back to the present. “Do you want me to help search for him? I’m sure he’s not far away, and I know the city.” She offered kindly, worry evident in her tone. Her guilt over what she said was as clear as a day.

“No, no.” You waved her off gently. “You need to rest, so feel free to go to bed. I think I’ll go for a walk to clear my head.” The last thing you wanted was to drag her into your tunnel of worries - not just for Bucky, but for the entire situation. She was still a missing girl and she needed to stay inside in order for no one to find her, so letting her out of the house was out of the equation.

Also, she was the goddamn key to solve the case and she was sitting right beside you while three out of four people working on the case were men (as if that was unfortunate enough) that couldn’t set their priorities straight. There were people that needed to be found, like Fury and Maria, others who needed to be captured - and yet, there you were, all alone.

“Are you sure?” She pressed, her brow furrowing with worry. “I don’t mind staying up with you if it’s going to help. I mean… you’re here because of me. It’s the least I can do.”

You managed to give her a small, grateful smile. “I appreciate it, Cassie, but none of this is your fault. There’s no need for you to worry or stress over it. Get some rest, I’ll see you in the morning.” You hoped the assurance in your voice was convincing.

Cassandra hesitated for a moment, clearly torn between wanting to help and follow your advice. Eventually, much to your relief, she nodded. “Alright, but if you need anything don’t hesitate to wake me up.”

“I won’t.” You promised, knowing you’d never wake her up in any case. “Also the house is secure. No one can get in without a key, so you’ll be fine.” You reassured her, watching as she stood up, nodded at you, and headed back back towards the stairs.

Once she was out of sight, you finally let out a deep sigh and looked around the dimly lit room. You forced yourself to get up, knowing that sitting around doing nothing only worsened your mood. Especially seeing your phone screen remain dark without a single message back from Bucky added fuel to the fire.

Grabbing your coat from the armchair, your slipped it on and headed towards the door, locking it securely behind you as you stepped onto the street.

It was probably all the emotions you were feeling at the moment, but for some reason you couldn’t quite understand why the atmosphere felt different that night. It was as if the air stood still, and you sensed presences that weren’t even there.

The streets were empty so you must have had imagined it, the only sound being your footsteps on the wet crosswalk. You double checked behind you to ensure your were alone and, in fact, there was absolutely no soul around. Even the neighbor’s dog was oddly quiet since the animal seemed to be possessed at each hour of the fucking night, but the owners left the poor creature outside alone the whole time so it wasn’t really the dog’s fault.

However, feeling watched or not, you needed to have a proper walk and get your mind off of those three stupid ass men for one night. You could almost excuse Bucky’s behavior initially; seeing the hurt on his face was enough to understand what had come over him. Even if you weren’t close to him, living in the same building for so long meant you knew that being seen as a murder was a trigger for him. You didn’t want to hold him accountable for how he reacted to those accusations, it was his own way to deal with it.

What you couldn’t tolerate was that, if he was still out there somewhere, he hadn’t bothered to let you know he was okay or to check how things ended with Sam and Dean. Especially after hearing how they had kept Cassie locked up for a whole day.

Lost in thought, you almost collided with a stranger who stood directly in your path, making no effort to move even as you took a few steps back.

Your already sour mood darkened further, aggravated by his presence and the small, annoying grin on his face. He appeared to be in his late forties, dressed entirely in black. The streetlight above his head flickered intermittently, unlike the others that worked perfectly.

“I need to go that way.” You said, pointing to the street behind him, as he blocked your path.

He stared into your eyes for what seemed like an eternity before finally stepping aside, extending a hand in the direction you were headed. “Forgive me, kid, didn’t mean to startle you.”

His voice was smooth, but carried an unsettling undertone that you couldn’t ignore. You shot him a glare as you reluctantly walked past him, your eyes not leaving his for the slightest second - you didn’t like this man. He gave off weird vibes, way too familiar vibes, and you didn’t like that.

“You didn’t startle me.” You mumbled. “Maybe just don’t stand in the middle of the crosswalk.”

“I’ll make sure to follow your advice from now on.” The man answered with a sarcastic tone, giving you one last glance before turning around to walk away. “Have the sweetest night, kid.”

You stood there for a moment, watching his short figure disappear around a corner. The nickname he used left a bittersweet taste in your mouth, but you didn’t think much of it as you turned back around to continue your night walk.

You didn’t have a place in mind, the cold air hitting your skin was just a way to cool you off - it was a nice, relaxing feeling for you. Even with that, your mind immediately drifted back to Bucky, Sam and Dean; if you survived this, you’d fight to be paired up with women in the future missions because you had had enough. And it had barely been a week.

You tried to focus on the rhythm of your steps and the crisp night air, which gradually started to finally calm you down. You didn’t know how long you had been walking when, at some point, you arrived near the center of the city, which was far more crowded than the area where you lived. Deciding it was about time to get back, you turned around - or almost.

“I don’t think that’s the right direction.”

A voice made you stop dead in your tacks, and you looked ahead only to see the same man from earlier, throwing something heavy into a nearby dumpster. He smacked his hands together to remove some dirt before slipping them into his pockets, walking towards you with that same small grin you had seen before.

He stopped right in front of you, and all your efforts to dissolve the anger you had built up during the day vanished in a mere instant. Great.

Why this mad had such an effect on you, you didn’t know.

“Excuse me?” You raised an eyebrow, which only made his grin wider.

“I said, you were going in the wrong direction.” He repeated, his voice tinged with mockery. He pointed behind his shoulders, as he spoke again. “You need to go that way, he’s having fun over there. You don’t want him to blew the mission, do you?”

“I have dealt with crazy fuckers like you before, alright? Leave me alone.” You shoved him off, turning your back to head back home. Or, at least, that was your intention.

“I see your attitude hasn’t changed in these last ten years. I thought you’d get nicer with age, but I’m glad to know I was wrong.” He called after you, making your freeze for a second. “Has no one ever taught you that it’s best to be nice to strangers?”

You turned back around, studying his expression because he sure as hell got your attention with that. He seemed to be lucid and collected, making you reconsider in an instant your initial thoughts of him as just another street creep. After all, you had encountered way too many in your life.

“What did you just say?” You said, your voice laced with suspicion.

He took a step closer, still grinning. “Ten whole years. I must admit, I never thought you’d get paired up with the Winchesters. But they go wherever trouble is, so I had to see it coming at some point; my bad.” He raised his hands in surrender before continuing. “But as I was saying, I’m happy to see you haven’t changed. Still so quick to judge, so quick to dismiss and so, so slow when it comes to understand who you can trust and who you can’t. You even got a name now, don’t you, my dear Emma?”

Your mind started to race the second you heard your name fall from his mouth with such normalcy. You were transported back to ten years ago, back to the time you were still with Hydra, to try and remember who he was. But everything was blank, you were sure you had never seen this man before; and there he was, talking to you as if you were his long-lost something.

“How do you know my name?” You demanded, keeping your voice steady. You were an Avenger, sure, but due to your request your face was not allowed to be published - therefore, nobody outside of your friends or some of the people you worked with knew who you were.

He tilted his head, his grin widening. “Oh, I know a lot more about you than just your name, dear. I’ve been watching you for a long time, not that you could have known. It’s fascinating how you’ve grown, how you’ve changed… yet some things remained the same.”

“What do you want?”

“Me? Oh, nothing.” He shrugged. “Believe it or not, I’m on your side. All this… trying to solve creepy mysteries with your gang like some sort of Scooby Doo in real life is quite exciting, but I need you to solve this case quickly because I’m getting tired of you all dancing around it.”

“Do I even know you?!” You asked, as this man was making less sense each passing second.

“No, silly.” His tone was condescending. “So don’t strain your little brain.” He waved a hand in front of your face. “I never bothered to meet you personally, I had more important things to do like…” He trailer off, trying to find the words. “Nothing really, but I’ve been watching you. And let me tell you, that little stunt you pulled when you let that friend of yours escape… what was her name? You used to call her something like Naomi or something?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You lied, your heart pounding in your chest.

“Nonie.” He smirked, knowing he had your full attention. “Yes, that’s right, because she was anonymous. Brave of you, really, but also quite foolish. She stayed for you, you know? Even after you freed her; she stayed around in the woods and brought John Winchester straight to you, so that he could save you. And what did she get in the end? She was burned alive.”

Your breath caught in your lungs at his words, confirming that the man in front of you wasn’t just some crazy idiot on the streets harassing women. He knew about Nonie, a secret you always kept for yourself (one of the many) and that meant he knew far more than what you were comfortable with. And you still had no idea of who he was or where he came from.

The pain of his revelation hit you like a punch to the gut. Not that you had ever held out much hope for Nonie, considering she had been turned into a Wendigo, but you had convinced yourself to believe that perhaps, somehow, she found some form of peace. Hearing that she was dead, though, was like a knife to the heart. She had been your first and only friend, or the closest thing you had to one, for most of your life.

“What do you want from me?“

“Your loyalty.” He answered, the serious you had seen him all night.

You let out an honest chuckled at that, which only made him roll his eyes. “You want me to be loyal to you? I only just met you and, frankly, you’re not exactly making a great first impression.”

He smirked, unfazed by your sarcasm. “I don’t need to make a good impression, my dear, I just need you to understand that we can help each other. We can make a deal, right here and right now, and I’ll explain everything to you. Starting with the truth about Ella White.”

You hated to admit that you took a moment to consider his offer, truly, the second he mentioned that woman. He did seem to know a lot of things, but you didn’t know him and you didn’t trust him. “Listen, not trying to sound rude here, but get lost.” You finally said him, even if a part of you was burning to know what he was talking about. “You’ve been creepy this whole time saying that you watched me when I was younger and now you want to be buddies?” You raised a brow at his nonsense.

“Not buddies, partners. You know, work together, be a team.” He clarified. “You don’t even know how many things we can accomplish together, we’d have everyone at our feet - do you not want that? Imagine, just imagine, how it could be like to rule the living and the dead.” His green eyes were locked into you as he talked, getting close to you.

“You sound like a dictator. I hate dictators.” You answered. “And if you don’t leave me alone I’ll put a bullet right between your eyebrows.”

He laughed at what you said, and your crossed your arms under your chest quite offended. “You’re funny, girl, I’ll give you that. But if you want to kill me, I think a simple gun won’t do it. It’s not your lucky day.” He said, faking an apologetic tone.

“You haven’t told me your name yet.”

“It’s not important.” He replied dismissively. “I’ll give you time to think about my offer, kid.” With a casual shrug, he began to walk past you.

Your eyes refused to leave his figure, and you were conflicted whether to follow him or not. Not because you wanted to accept his weird offer, but because he was clearly involved somehow and letting him go didn’t seem like the smartest choice. But you had a feeling that your paths would cross again.

“I already said no.” You called after him, raising your voice slightly.

He paused, turning his head slightly to glance back at you. “Go ask Dean Winchester why he agreed to work on this case.” He said cryptically. “And then you might change your mind, I’ll make sure to be there when you do.”

You furrowed your brows, puzzled by his words - but even what he said earlier didn’t make more sense than that. What did Dean have anything to do with this? And why was this stranger so confident that you would eventually change your mind? Sure, Dean hadn’t been exactly the most cooperative person in the last couple of days, but he was making it look as if you couldn’t trust him.

“And before I forget,” He added suddenly. “You might want to go take a look at the bar down the road, see if you can find something interesting, take it as a little help from me.” With that, he turned and walked away. You swore that he vanished as soon as you blinked, but that was impossible… wasn’t it?

Your feet moved before your brain could properly process his words, and you started to head towards the place he told you to go to. It’s true you didn’t have positive vibes regarding that man whose name you didn’t know, but so far he only said things you knew were real, more or less, so you thought it wasn’t a bad idea to go see for yourself what he was referring to.

You hurried down the streets, the sounds of laughter and clicking glasses growing louder as you approached. Hesitating at the entrance, you took a deep breath before pushing the wooden door open, the little bell above it chiming softly. The noise went unnoticed by most of the people in there, except two men who glanced your way and left the second you entered.

The smell of alcohol and smoke was thick, but you ignored it as you scanned the room. No familiar faces met your gaze, and some doubts began to creep in. Perhaps the most logical reason was that the stranger had been toying with you all along. You shook your head, feeling foolish for trusting him even for a moment. Turning to leave, you prepared to step back into the street hoping to not meet any other idiot that was going to mess with your ideas.

Except that then, out of the corner of your eye, you spotted a familiar face sitting alone in the farthest corner of the room.

Bucky Barnes. He was hunched over a drink, his eyes low as he watched the liquid twirl before taking a sip of it. Relief washed over you upon seeing that he was unharmed, but it was quickly replaced by that very same anger you had for the whole day. He had left you worried this whole time while he was there, drinking his problems away - and he didn’t have the excuse of being drunk because you knew it was physically impossible for him to be.

You weaved your way through the crowded bar, your eyes firm on him. With each step closer he seemed to feel your presence, as he looked up from his glass his eyes found yours in no time. His posture visibly stiffened and a flicker of surprise crossed his face as you dropped into the chair across from him, not so kindly.

“Nice to see you too.” He muttered, barely glancing up.

“You left me worried sick.” You snapped, your voice low but intense in order not to have people overhear the conversation. “I called and texted thinking the worst had happened and you were here drinking? What the fuck is your problem?”

“I needed some time alone, alright?” He said dismissively, taking another sip.

“Time alone?” You scoffed. “You could have at least let me know you were okay, for fuck’s sake. Cassandra said some hurtful things while, mind you, she was scared for her life and you disappeared for hours? We have a damn case to solve, Bucky, people are counting on us.”

He shrugged, still not meeting your eyes. “Believe it or not, I have been working. Didn’t think it mattered whether you knew or not.”

“Didn’t think it-” You cut yourself off, pinching the bridge of your nose. “We’re a team, Bucky. When one of us bails, if affects everyone. We lost a day because apparently I’m paired up with people that run away when things aren’t convenient anymore.”

“How did you even find me?” He tilted his head, ignoring your outburst. “You have the worst sense of orientation I’ve ever seen. Didn’t know you knew the city.”

“I don’t, a man told me where you were.”

“A man?” He raised a brow, his skepticism evident. “You made new friends already? That’s great, honey. Socializing is good for you.”

You blinked a few times, taken aback at his nonchalance. You had just told him that a stranger had essentially been following him, and that was his reaction? His dismissive attitude left your dumbfounded to say the least.

“You’re getting on my nerves.” You said, your patience wearing thin. Not that it was great before.

“Do you know how to get back home?” He asked, not even being fazed by what you said.

“Yes.” You responded, barely masking your irritation.

“Then go.” He said, waving you off. “I’ll get back later.”

He glanced to his left, and your eyes followed his gaze. You immediately understood the reason behind his attitude, and you were not happy in the slightest about it. Dalia emerged from the bathroom, heading straight to your table.

Now that you looked down, you noticed two glasses of whiskey instead of one, and one of them had lipstick mark on it. Of course, that made sense.

“Harry.” She said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Didn’t know your wife was going to join us tonight.” Her fake smile grated on your nerves.

“She was just about to leave, actually.” Bucky said, giving you a look that clearly said, ‘do as I say.’ “Isn’t that right, honey?”

You felt a surge of anger at his blatant disregard, clenching your jaw at the way he was acting and at the way she was smirking. “Sure.” You replied sarcastically, standing up. “After all, I wouldn’t want to ruin the night.”

Dalia’s smirk widened as she slid into your seat not even a second after you moved, not hiding the fact she was happy you would leave. “So nice of you, Jade. You know, me and your husband have a lot in common, I might steal him from you.” She chuckled at her own words.

You narrowed your eyes at Dalia’s taunting remark, her words grating on your last nerve. “Ah, good luck with that.” You retorted, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “I’m sure you’ll have a blast with his mood changes.”

Bucky shot you a glare, but you ignored it. “Sweetheart.” He said, the nickname anything but sweet. “Get home safe, I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah, I promise I’ll be nice to him.” Dalia chimed in, leaning back on the chair. “Or not.” She added, winking at him.

You gritted your teeth, struggling to maintain your composure at her clearly flirting with your fake husband. “Have fun.” You simply muttered out, noticing how Bucky stopped meeting your gaze a while ago - instead, he was looking at his empty glass of whiskey.

“We will.” She said, waving at you with that annoying smile on her face.

You turned on your heel and headed towards the door, ignoring the tension in the air behind you. As you stepped out, into the cool night air, a mixture of frustration and hurt made their way in your stomach. You didn’t know why you were feeling so pissed at her being there with him, but you imagined it was because he had been doing God knows what all day with the neighbor’s daughter when you had a fucking case to solve.

Pushing aside your emotions, you finally walked back home hoping to remember the way to go there, walking quickly to put as much distance as you could between yourself and the scene inside the bar.

To think you were actually starting to like the guy now that your issues were kind of solved, but maybe Bucky wasn’t really the right person you wanted as a friend if he was willing to jeopardize the mission for a woman he met a few days ago.

You finally arrived home, the exhaustion weighing heavy on your shoulder as you shut close the door behind you. Tossing your coat onto the couch still completely in the dark, since you were too drained to bother with the lights, all you craved was a shower and some sleep due to the late hour and the events of the day. However, it seemed that fate had other plans.

As you made your way towards the stairs, the doorbell pierced the silence. With a scoff, you retraced your steps and swung the the door open, only to be met with the sight of the infuriating man in black, his grin widening at the sight of your irritation.

“I told you he was having fun.” He remarked, relishing in your obvious displeasure. “Did I not?”

“More than me for sure.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, well… men are weak. Give them a beautiful woman and they’ll forget about their duties. If you need help, real help with this case, I’m offering it. You just need to say yes.”

“No.” You said again, firmly.

“You’re as stubborn as your mother.”

Your heart stopped at that. “My- my what?”

“Mother.” He repeated casually as if dropping that bombshell on you was just another walk in the park for him. “What? Did you think you popped out of nowhere?” He grinned, using the knowledge he had about your past - past you didn’t even know - to manipulate you into joining him.

You struggled to find the right words to respond, but your brain couldn’t process anything concrete.

“Oh, I’ve got your attention for real now, don’t I? Little Emma wants to know about her mother more than you want help for this case. Selfish, I love it.”

You met his gaze with steely silence, refusing to give him the satisfaction of acknowledging he was right. He had been right the whole time, if we want to be honest, and in the back of your mind you kept thinking about his words as if there was a little devil on your shoulder that was telling you to listen to him. It was clear now that he knew how to find you, who you were and what you wanted… which wasn’t really great news.

You simply shut the door on his face, and you hoped for a moment of peace - but even that was short lived. The doorbell chimed once more, prompting you to hurry back, only this time you had your gun in hand, ready to get rid of the stranger once and for all.

As you opened the door again with your finger firmly on the trigger, you quickly realized that there was no need to use violence that time. Instead, you lowered your hand with clear surprise and relief on your face, your expression softening as you took the unexpected sight before you.

“Woah, calm down.” A familiar voice remarked, her eyebrows raised at your defensive stance. “A bit on edge, are we? Let me in and explain everything, I’m here to help.”

“Natasha.” You greeted, moving aside to let her in.

Finally someone who didn’t get on your nerves.

[deanoheartspie]

SUN•SHINE COMING SOON!!

Pairing: Cowboy Sheriff Dean x City Gal Reader

Summary: After your family cut you off, your great-aunt Laura invited you over to her ranch you often visited when you were just a child... You drive through the beautiful town until you accidentally graze a horse that just so happens to be the sheriffs...

Warnings: smut, cussing, angst.

Taglist: (Open!!)

Chapters: Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

•°•°•°•°•SNEAK PEAK°•°•°•°•°•°

“You look beautiful in that dress darlin' Gimmie a little spin” Dean has a boyish grin, while he leans against the old bed frame.

Giving the cowboy a little spin, with a laugh escaping your lips as you tilt your fake imaginary cowgirl hat. “Y'know I could always give ya' a hat” He stands up, the floorboards creaking at every step he takes while he looks over at his hats deciding on a nice plain white one.

“Why the white one?” You ask, with a hint of a smile knowing he had to grow through his whole process of deciding which one to give you.

“Because after tonight darlin', your gonna be my bride”

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

[retromotherfuckers]

If You Win Or Lose

Characters:

morgan winchester (OC), john winchester, sam and dean are only mentioned, will mciver (OC)

Summary:

after the death of the boy she loves, morgan runs away. but nothing lasts forever.

Warnings:

SPN typical alcohol abuse & violence, themes of mental illness, parental abuse, MAJOR gaslighting, character death. please let me know if i missed anything

Word Total:

2,425

A/N:

you don't need to read When The Sun Sets to understand this. this is a one shot within that universe, but it predates that series, and also the show itself

it is of my humble opinion that john was an abuser, even if the show refused to acknowledge that. this is essentially an insight into his and morgan's relationship

so yeah, this one ain't too happy. i don't think i'm capable of writing happy shit 💀

morgan may have fallen in love w a dude but our girl is not straight

italics are flashbacks or thoughts

dean: 19, morgan: 18, sam: 15

Four fingers of whiskey fill and drain over and over. In the shitty hotel bar, she sat up against the decaying oak wall in a flimsy chair. A hazy world surrounded her, everything moving in slow motion. The few other stragglers had no notion of what was brewing in her mind - the darkness that shrouded her eyes, making colors look muted in the small neighborhood. It seemed no one knew how much she depended on the amber liquid to keep things still.

Morgan had been around people all her life, but she'd never once felt a real kind of companionship with them. She knew her brothers cared because they had to; she knew they tried. She just wished that when they asked if life was okay, they'd somehow know her answer was bullshit. That they'd somehow cut off the lies spilling from her lips and just say that they know.

But Sammy was only fifteen. He wasn't old enough to really be able to tell, and if he could, she was the older sister. What she said was what he believed. And Dean was Dean. Not the best emotional support person.  

They never did catch it, and that was the point. As long as she said she was fine, they believe it because that's what they want to hear. They didn't want to know that she hadn't felt like her home was her home in years. Even if that home was the rumble of an engine and cassettes so loud, she couldn't hear herself think. 

They didn't know that she had done things only the lowest of the low would even think of just to keep moving. They don't want to know that the only reason she got out of bed was so she could ease the hangover from the night before. They didn't want to know how hard it was to ask when it was her turn for anything better than this and to keep getting ignored. They didn't want to know that her real reason for living was gone but that his dying wish was for her to keep going. 

"Just promise me you'll try."

They didn't want to know that sometimes she could hurt so bad that she stopped feeling anything at all. That she knew her heart was still beating, but her lungs had stopped pumping oxygen. That waiting for her eyes to stop feeling so heavy while she watched the world spin was worse than actually being a part of it. And even with all that frigid emptiness, there was a widening hole in her chest where a person used to be. And now that he was gone, the ceiling was about to cave in, and all she had left to hold it up was a little white bag and a bottle.

"Where the hell have you been?" The familiar voice broke her from her thoughts, the same that had been repeating for months, on and off, like a scratched record. She didn't have to look up to see who it was. She knew that voice. It's half of the voices that raised her, but not the one who deserved the credit.

She didn't acknowledge him, stuck staring at her drink. His voice made her shiver, and she was too much of a damn coward to face him. "Around."

"Really?" John said, his tone hardening with her one-word response. "'Cause to me, it looks like you ran away and went missing like a child. For. Two. Months."

She took a large gulp of her drink, almost downing the whole thing in one go. She had rehearsed this conversation countless times, waiting for the flash of civilian life to end and for him to find her. But now that it was happening, she felt like a fishing boat in a storm, tossed around by waves of fear and wrath.

Her father's gaze was oppressive, cold, and unyielding. Green eyes cut into her, making her feel like he was staring right through her. She always felt small around him. He had always known the right words to use to humiliate her.

"Let's go," He ordered, not even sitting down. It was like he knew this wasn't even a discussion to be had. She would obey, and that was the end of it. "The boys are waiting."

"Dad," Morgan began, her voice shaky and horse. "I'm not going back."

She could imagine John's lips curled into a sneer as his eyes bore into her. Daring her to defy him more. "You don't get a choice. You're coming. That's final."

Morgan felt a surge of anger. "Why can't you just let me be? I know what's good for me more than you do."

John stepped closer, his face inches from hers. "You belong with your family, not out here alone when we're not there to protect you. I taught you better than that."

It wasn’t praise. John Winchester wouldn’t know praise if it bit him in the ass. He did teach her better than that, and since she’s deliberately not following orders, she’s less than worthless.

She recoiled slightly, the familiar pang of anxiety twisting in her gut. "This isn't about family, dad, it's about-" She fumbled over her words, unsure if she could say it, but hoping for some surge of courage she hadn't had her whole life. "It's about how you can't stand that I'm walking around without you making my own decisions. You just wanna control me-"

John's hand lashed out, slapping the counter beside her, making her visibly flinch and effectively cutting her off. "After everything I've done for you, this is how you repay me? I don't need to control you; you need me to do it. To keep you alive," he sneered. "And the running away from your shit and pretending we don't exist just proves it."

Morgan's eyes welled with tears, but she refused to let them fall. "Everything you've done," Her voice shook as she spoke. "You've done for yourself and your twisted little fantasy of finding the thing that killed Mom."

He grabbed her wrist, his grip like a vise. "Oh, yeah? And what do you think you can do to stop me?" She yanked her arm free, the skin already bruising. His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, she thought she saw a flicker of doubt. But then his expression hardened, and he took a step closer, his shadow enveloping her. "You're making a big mistake, Morgan. You'll regret this."

She took a deep breath, her resolve wavering. The sooner she got away, the better. "The only mistake I made was not getting out earlier."

As she turned to leave, John's hand shot out, grabbing her shoulder and keeping her still. His voice was low and twisted with fury. The deep growl and the warmth of his breath in her ear made chills run up her spine.

"You think you can just walk away from me?"

Morgan's heart sank into her stomach. It wasn't a threat, but she could feel one coming. Her strength was slipping away, the familiar terror clawing at her mind. She'd never be able to hide from him for too long. Just look at her now, it had only been two months.

She was smart. But John was smarter.

"You're coming home, whether you like it or not." He took her stunned stillness as his queue to spin her around, forcing her chin up to look at him. She'd probably have marks on her jaw from how tight he was holding her. "You're really gonna leave us to fend for ourselves? You're so damn selfish-"

"I haven't been selfish a day in my fucking life-"

Her father scoffed as if that was the most ridiculous thing he'd ever heard. "Well, by your logic, you're picking the wrong time to start." He got closer if it was even possible, and he looked at her like she was the dirt he loved to walk over. "Will's dead, Mo, and it's your fault. I told you not to go on that hunt alone, but what did you fucking do? You ignored me, like always. When are you gonna learn that you need me? Boy-Toy's not coming back, you saw to that. Stop wasting everyone's time and get over it."

Boy-Toy. That's all John saw him as now. Even though he liked to call Will's parents the closest people he had to friends besides Uncle Bobby. 

Will had been with them for a year and a half when his parents died. They were helping him look for his aunt, the only family he had left. Only problem was they only knew her first name and that she was his mother's sister. So Will, Morgan and Sam searched for his aunt, while John and Dean searched for the demon.

For a while, things were okay. John was slightly more neutral when Will was around, starting fewer arguments and hitting them less. But when he walked in on them hooking up, Dean had to haul her father off of the boy. And then off of Morgan, too.

Two months ago, Morgan was desperate to prove herself to her father. Dean had already completed three solo hunts as a trial run. John wanted to see what he was capable of. Dean surpassed his expectations, as he always did. A rougarou, two vengeful spirits and a vampire taken care of in three weeks.

Will hadn't wanted to go on that hunt without help, but Morgan was frantic. She had to show her father what she was made of, but when Will discovered her plans, he was not going to let her do it alone. 

The air is thick with tension, each step bringing them closer to the lair of the wendigo they've been tracking for days. The forest is dense, moonlight barely piercing the thick canopy above. The silence of the night is broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant hoot of an owl.

"Are you sure about this?" Will whispers, his voice barely audible.

Morgan turns to him, her blue eyes fierce and determined. "Yeah! We can do this, I swear."

They press on, the beam of their flashlights cutting through the darkness. Suddenly, a chilling growl echoes through the trees. Their hearts start racing as they tighten their grip on their chosen weapons. They're close.

The wendigo lunges out of the shadows, its eyes glowing with a malevolent type of starvation. Will fires his shotgun, but the creature is too fast. It knocks him to the ground, claws slashing through his shirt.

"Will!" Morgan screams, rushing to him. He struggles beneath the wendigo's weight, blood pooling from his wounds.

"Go!" He shouts, but his words are so garbled she hears her name, like a plea. "It's too strong!"

And Morgan can't leave him; he knows she would never. She swings her machete with all her strength, striking the creature's back. It howls in pain, momentarily distracted. Will uses the opportunity to push it off him, but the wendigo retaliates with a vicious swipe, its claws sinking deep into his chest.

"No!" Morgan drops to her knees beside Will as the wendigo retreats into the shadows. "No, no-"

Will's breathing is ragged, and he squeezes his eyes shut in distress. "Mo... I'm sorry..."

"Don't talk like that," she says, tears already streaming down her face. "You're gonna be okay, you'll be fine. We'll get you back to Dean. He'll know what to do."

Will reaches up, his hand trembling as he gently touches her cheek. His eyes are wet, too, but he quickly tries to hide the pain he's in. He graces her with a smile, but it's gone as fast as it appears. 

"Remember when Dean was giving me shit for how long my hair is?" He waits for her to nod. It doesn't take her so long to react because she doesn't remember. She takes a few extra seconds because she can't figure out why he's bringing that up right now. "You shut him up so fast," he says with a strained laugh. "You definitely liked me first."

Morgan chuckles through her tears, but the light memory doesn't last too long in her mind.

He's dying he's dying he's dying

"But I love you, Mo...please...remember that."

"Stop it. You don't get to say that as a goodbye," she demanded, but her voice didn't have the force to make it believable. "You're not allowed to tell me you love me and then die. It's not fair."

"I'll be okay," he rasps. "Just promise me you'll try. Promise me…" His voice fades from there. He has more he wants to say, Morgan can tell, but he used up all his strength.

"Will, please," She begs, her words cracking. "Don't-"

But Will's eyes flutter closed, his hand falls lifelessly to the ground, and Morgan screams.

She doesn't have it in her to set up a pyre. Will doesn't want that. He says it feels barbaric to him. He came from a hunting family and knew it was to prevent the possibility of becoming was a vengeful spirit, but he’s never wavered. He wants a real burial, like normal people have. He wants his family and friends there; they don't have to say anything, just be there.

"It just doesn't feel right, you know? We should be returned to the earth and all that crap. It's more…I don't know, peaceful."

Hours later, as dawn breaks, she buries him under an oak tree. She stands alone - yet another way she's letting him down. Her heart and mind are in tatters, her tears mingle with the soot. She can't face her family, not after what just happened. She can't bear her father’s inevitable punishment. Or her brothers’ pity. Or the possibility that they hate her for letting their friend die.

With one last look at the makeshift grave, Morgan turns and walks away, the shadows of the forest swallowing her whole. She doesn't know where she's going, only that she has to keep moving.

She looked into her father's eyes and saw the unyielding force of his will. In that moment, she knew she had lost.

Defeated, she lowered her gaze, closed her eyes and barely whispered, "Okay."

John's grip loosened slightly, a triumphant smile creeping across his face. Harder than necessary, he slapped her shoulder in appreciation. "Good girl. Now pack your shit. We're leaving in a half hour."

As Morgan turned towards the exit, she felt the weight of his victory settle over her like a cloak. The life she thought she might have wanted crumbled away, leaving only the cold, harsh reality of her father's world. She walked slowly, each step feeling like a surrender, her heart heavy with the knowledge that, for now, he had won.

[matxhstixkers]

i love making my sad 30-40 year old bisexual men pine for eachother

[wildwallflower24]

Me waiting excitedly for my favorite author to post the fic I requested

(But also patiently because I respect that fic writing takes time and that authors have lives outside of Tumblr)

(Seriously though I love and respect every fic author on tumblr, and I hope you’re all having a wonderful day)

[maddiehu7]

My angel | Castiel |

Chapter 1

"Hey Bobby the phones ringing!" I shout from another room

"Well then answer idgit!" He shouts back I roll my eyes getting up from my comfortable position on the couch walking over to the phone picking it up I see a random number but answer it anyway

"Who is this?" I question suspiciously

"Mia? Mia listen to me" I hear none other than my dead brother speak i stare ahead in shock for minute starting to tear up before realizing it's probably a demon or shapeshifter

"This isn't funny call again and I'll kill you" I say angrily hanging up the phone

"Who was it?" Bobby asks coming into the room but when he sees me crying he comes over concerned

"Hey kid what's wrong" he says in the most gentle voice he could

"Some demon pretending to be Dean called...it was so nice to hear his voice" I say sniffling

"I'm sorry" Bobby says pulling me into a hug which makes me cry more melting into him.

It's been a couple hours since my meltdown and I'm back to sitting on the couch watching tv well Bobby's in the kitchen making something when I hear a knock at the door

"Really again I have to get up" I sigh out but stand up regardless heading to the door

"Wh-" I start to say stopping when I see my brother at the door smiling at me

"Surprise" he says

"I-I don't..." I stutter out but he interrupts me

"Yeah me neither but here I am" he says walking in I slowly grab the silver knife behind me slashing at him with it but he catches my arm putting it behind my back

"Mia!" He shouts but I swing back hitting him in the face

"Mia! It's me!" He says groaning stumbling backwards

"Hey what the hell is going on" Bobby runs in but stops when he sees Dean

"My ass" I say back to Dean speed walking towards him

"Whoa, whoa, whoa! Wait!" He says pushing a chair infront of him holding his hand out I go to push it out of the way but Bobby stops me looking at Dean curiously

"Your name is Mia Elizabeth Winchester your 23 and your my sister our dads John Winchester" he says speedily

"Anyone could know that" I spit back

"Um....ok ok you've never had a boyfriend because dad, me, and Sam wouldn't let you,  um you love books, you rebellious like Sam but worse never following dads orders but staying anyway Because of me, um the scars on your left arm there from-" but I stop him moving the chair reaching out and touching his shoulder he smiles but I go to swing the knife again Bobby pulling me back again Dean swiping the knife from my hands

"I'm not a shapeshifter!" Dean yells

"Then your a revenant!" I yell from Bobby's arms

"Alright if I was either would I do this with a silver knife?" He says pulling up his sleep cutting himself I look at him bewildered that he's not in pain

"Dean?" I say starting to tear up

"That's what I've been trying to tell you" he says smiling walking towards me I immediately pull him into a tight him starting to ball

"Hey hey it's ok" Dean says laughing slightly with relief I just hug him tighter hearing his voice and finally hugging him again after all this time, I pull back after a minute tears still falling down my cheeks Dean smiling swiping them away meanwhile he tears up a bit himself

"It's-it's good to see you" I say sniffling

"Yeah, You to" Dean says coughing subtly wiping his tears

"Hey I'm here you know" Bobby says from the side me and Dean laughing Dean going over and hugging Bobby

"How'd did you bust out?" Bobby says pulling back confused

"I don't know I just uh woke up in a pine box-" Dean speaks but gets interrupted by Bobby throwing holy water on him

"I'm not a demon either you know" he says spitting water out I laugh

"Sorry, can't be to careful" Bobby shrugs

"So tell us everything" I say looking at him expectingly

~~time skip~~

“That don't make a lick of sense" Bobby says confused walking into the living room

"Yeah your preaching to the choir" Dean says back me and him following Bobby

"Dean your chest was ribbons, your insides were slop, and you've been buried four months even if you could slip out of hell and back into your meat suit” Bobby says

"I know, I should look like a thriller video reject" Dean sighs saying what everyone was thinking

"What do you remember?" I question carefully

"Not much, I remember I was a hellhounds chew toy...and then lights out then I come to six feet under that was it" he says looking away from us I look at him sadly

"Sam's numbers not working hes-uh- he's not..."

"Oh he's alive as far as we know" Bobby says easing deans worries

"Yeah just up and left me though in a time of need but yeah he's alive" I say rolling my eyes

"What?" Dean looks at me confused

"Oh yeah I lost both brothers it was real fun" I say with fake enthusiasm Dean just looks at me sorrily

"These months haven't been exactly easy, you know for him or us...we had to bury you" Bobby says looking at Dean

"Why did you bury me anyway?"

"We wanted you salted and burned- usual drill- but Sam wouldn't have it" I sigh out

"Well I'm glad he won that one" Dean says looking down at himself

"He said you'd need a body when he got you back home somehow that's about all he said" I say

"What do you mean?" Dean asks confused

"He was quiet...real quiet, then he just took of wouldn't return our calls we tried to find him but he didn't want to be found" i say looking down still missing him even though I'm beyond pissed he left me

"Oh damn it Sammy" Dean groans out

"What?" Bobby questions

"Oh he got be home ok but whatever he did it is bad mojo" Dean says looking at me and Bobby

"What makes you so sure?" I question

"You should have seen the grave site it was like a nuke went off then there was this-this force, this presence, this I don't know but it-it blew past me at a fill up joint...and then this" Dean says taking off his coat lifting up his shirt sleeve I come over curiously

"What in the hell?!" I say blown away by the handprint in bedded in deans shoulder

"What in the hell is right" Bobby says looking incredulously at the mark

"Yeah it's like a demon just yanked me out or rid me out" Dean shrugs

"But why?" I say confused

"To hold up there end of the bargain" Dean grits out

"You think Sam made a deal?" I say nervously

"It only makes sense” Dean says looking at me

"Fuck" I sigh out running my hands through my hair

[lailawinchesterr]

silence in the city (two)

part i

pairing; sam x reader/ dean x reader summary: you cook for the two boys and start to feel like you’re fitting in again. tags; mention of rape, degradation, suggestive content, soulles sam.

tw: reference to the night of the rape but not detailed just him calling her names but guys please be mindful of what you consume, if this might trigger you in any way or if you’re not comfortable with this topic please please don’t read

"Sam," I moan against his hair, sliding my fingers through it. He's kissing my neck, then higher and higher, behind my ear, my face, my lips. He's getting so close to me. And I can't think straight when he's this close because all I can remember is him pounding into me that night—

"Hey," his voice forces me back to where we are. His room. The bunker. His bed. His his his. How do I even fit here, with the Winchesters? “Hey, what happened? Where'd you go?"

"I— I don't know, what happened?" I echo the question, mostly asking what I did when he's decided on shaking me softly out of it.

"You were with me. I was kissing you but you were shaking and... fuck, are you okay? You really scared me. I think you were trying to tell me to stop but you just—" He's stepped back now, sitting on the bed a few inches away, he's still towering over me but it doesn't bother me as much as it did when he was kissing me, he's just really scared.

"I'm sorry," I mumble, trying to get up and off the bed. "Sorry, just thought about something and I couldn't stop."

"Yeah? Was it something bad?" He lets me leave his bed but stares at me in a way that makes me think he won't be so generous about me leaving the room.

"No, just something. I think I'll— yeah, you guys are probably hungry, I'll go make dinner." I don't move until I see him nod, but while walking out I don't miss the way his whole body deflates and his hands scrubbing down his face. 

My whole chest hurts and I want to cry again for the tenth time today but I just can’t help it. I’ve been trying so hard with Sam and I know he sees that, I know he hears me cry at night when we’ve went a little too far or how I start shaking whenever we’re alone and he runs a hand up my body. I’m not scared of him, I know he wouldn’t do anything like that, I trust him, but just— i don’t want to, just can’t do anything with him when all I imagine is that fucking monster pounding into me, calling me a slut, telling me to take it.

“Hey, angel,” I perk up at the sound of nickname coming from Dean. I’m still looking through the cabinets for any ideas for dinner so I entertain him, nodding. “What’re you cookin’?” That Texan accent.

“Oh, just pasta probably. I’m not sure, any requests?” He drums his fingers onto the table, seemingly in deep thought, “Not pie, Dean.”

“Dick,” He rolls his eyes but I let out a huff at his playfulness, my tone similar to his.

“Slut,” I retort back quickly, waiting for him to actually give me suggestions. Though it looks like pie was his only running thought (maybe something with bacon too) and I decide to pick out a bunch of random spices, hopefully the idea will come to me as I make it. 

I am glad Dean is with me in the kitchen though. For all the shitty me and Sam have been going through this past month, me and Dean have gotten closer, especially since his heartfelt declaration in this very room. 

Albeit, I haven’t seen soft Dean since then, but I got enough to last me a lifetime. “What about something from your home? I can try to help too.”

My eyes widen. “You want a proper Egyptian meal? Are you serious?” It makes me giddy more than I’d like to admit cause fuck that’s kinda the most adorable thing anyone has ever asked of me. He wants me to make him something from my culture? That’s… 

“Yeah, ‘course. Don’t know why we never had Egyptian before, but let’s do it. What’s on the menu today?” He says casually but my cheek’s all pink and my mouth hurts from grinning and I bet I’m even beaming a bit but it’s all expertly concealed as I give him my back to look through the fridge.

“Yeah, we can do that. How about… do you guys have cabbage?”

“I’m not sure. Sam probably—” 

“There, found it!” I answer myself quickly, looking at the bottom drawer. I take it out, figuring it’s big enough for maybe all three of us, could even have some left overs. “I can get started on the mahshy and leave it to cook while I go get some stuff from the market, how’s that? Y’all don’t mind a few hours before dinner, right?”

“The what?”

“Mahshy, honestly our most popular dish. Or maybe waraa enab, either way, you might like them. I don’t know if you’ve ever tasted anything like them but… I can make pizza too, incase it isn’t something you end up enjoying.”

“I’m sure it’ll be good, sweetheart.” I nod then run to the drawers, as if he’ll change his mind, to start getting supplies. 

Two hours later I’ve finished making the rice and stuffing it into the cabbage then rolling them, letting Dean attempt a couple, and put it all on the stove to cook. “Okay, I wanna try and make pigeons, too, for protein.”

“I’m sorry— you what?” 

I keep scrubbing my hands clean at the sink, biting my lip between my bottom teeth. I often forget what’s common and what’s uncommon here in America, mostly ‘cause I’ve only been here a decade, but in my home two. 

“Yeah, I mean, you don’t have to, I don’t know— what kind of bird do you eat? It’s just usually made with pigeon or hamam in Arabic and I guess I figured if we’re… you know, but we can do…” The words are blurting out my mouth and I see Dean holding in a laugh. I deflate a little and he chuckles, walking towards me. 

“Sweetheart, whatever you make will be perfect. I didn’t know you were stressing about this. You know we love your cooking.”

“Yeah but this is different, you’ve never had this before and obviously I won’t be offended if you guys don’t like it— that goes without saying,” and I check Dean’s expression through my eyelashes so there’s hopefully no doubt about that, “but I wanna make it good for you.” I’m assuming the you is heavy on him because he takes a deeper breath but then shakes his head, moving his hand from his side to my back.

“Let’s go to the market. Wanna get Sammy?” And then, a beat, “Or you guys could go and I can watch the food here?”

“No, no. He’s probably busy, we should go. Surprise him ‘n all.” Dean looks down at me, he looks like he’s going to reject the idea, plus I’m about to apologize for suggesting it, but then I feel him nudging me forward with a smile and we walk to the garage.

We’re going to the market for some food.

Me and Dean.

K.

It’s uncharacteristic of Sam to both be dry and not grammatically accurate while texting and it makes my chest constrict before I shut the phone off and stare out the window. I already know tears are running down my cheek but I don’t want to acknowledge it at the moment. God, I have so so much to just cry about, it’s all since I’ve stayed with these Winchesters. I love them, and I love Cas, and Charlie, and Jody obviously but that doesn’t take away from all the pain they’ve caused me.

Sam (soulless) fucked me while I kept screaming at him to stop. Practically raped me. Dean didn’t speak to me for years, not even after what Sam did, though I’m not sure how much of that he actually knows. Hunters and supernatural creatures alike have tried to smite me so many times to get the Winchesters that I’ve lost count. I’ve been used as bait too many times and almost died even more. I’ve watched these two men die over and over and over again. 

It never ends, even when Sam got his soul back; leviathans got thrown back to purgatory; Dean came back from purgatory; Sam went through the trials; Angels falling then Dean got rid of the mark; then the darkness. It just doesn’t end, and I have been with Sam through it all. Saw him grieve Dean so much I started to miss his brother that I’ve talked to a handful of times. I let him go through the trials after begging him not to, only for him to give them up when Dean asked him to. 

I don’t think the boys understand what that night did to me. We were all there, staring at the king of hell gain some ounce of humanity and Sam losing all of his while I sobbed into my knees. My voice had grown hoarse with my screams at Sam at that point. Then Dean came in. We all stilled. We all knew what would come next. We all held our breath. Then;

“Don’t you dare think that there is anything, past or present, that I would put in-front of you. It has never been like that. I need you to see that. I’m begging you.”

“I— how do I stop?”

What I had tried to do for months Dean had done with three words, and of course, yeah, they’re blood and all that, but the look in their eyes? I wasn’t sure whether he loved Dean as innocently as he claims he does.

“Angel?” My head whips, giving me a damn migraine, and I face the older brother. 

Dean had never done anything particularly nasty to me. I only started living in the bunker this year so we’ve been housemates for a little over three months, and we started speaking two months into it so I’ve decided he’s heaps better than his brother at the moment. 

“Angel, you with me?” I nod then remember he’s looking at the road, though I’m sure he can see me.

“Yeah, Dee, with you?”

“Dee?”

“Nickname. Like ‘angel’.” He seems to accept it. I don’t though, so I ask the question that’s been on the top of my tongue since we’d spoken a month ago, “Why’d you call me that, by the way? Why ‘angel’?”

“‘Cause.” I hope he doesn’t think I’m letting him keep the answer that brief. Thankfully he keeps going, “You saved Sam. Saved him from himself too many times. Kinda like his guardian angel.”

Damn it. Even the one thing I thought was mine, totally and utterly related to me, had something to do with my boyfriend. 

“— and, sweetheart, you saved me too.” That catches my attention and just as I’m about to ask, he parks in front of the mall’s double doors. 

“Get inside, I’ll park Baby and come in.” I zip my mouth, though it takes everything in me, 

I get out of the car and into the market quietly. That’s how me and Dean finish our shopping. That’s also how we get into the house (though not without our little squabble of “I’m a hunter Dean, I can handle a few bags!”  “You’re also cooking enough as is, stop being stubborn and get inside. I’ll bring the bags.”)

I told him he should go check on his brother while I make the pigeon, that takes much less time than the mahshy. Dean doesn’t come back, but an hour later everything is ready to serve so I text him to get Sammy and come down. 

I may or may have not brought a frozen pizza at the market and put it in the oven incase they don’t enjoy the meal— it just makes me feel more at ease. I’ve never been so nervous in my life, not even when me and Sam had sex the first time. Or when I said yes to our first date. Or when I came to America alone.

But here I am, panicking out of my boots because Sam and Dean Winchester are gonna taste Egyptian food by my hand for the first time. “Angel, you’re shaking,” I look at Sam first and he’s smiling at me but it’s clear he’s not happy. I’m not sure about which part.

It’s already close to ten and I left our room in a hurry at six so I can only think of the contemplation he’d done. About me and us and our sex life and everything.

“Want any help, honey?” I let a smile spread over my face as I nod once at Sam. Yeah, okay, maybe I’m overreacting. 

He goes to grab a plate but I shake my head and point to the ten inch tray we have for when we’re serving guests. He furrows his eye brows but does at told and I tell him to put it on the counter where we’re eating. He does so and I grab the pot of mahshy then flip it upside down on the tray. Both men seem to jump at my sudden movement but quickly relax when they see it was not an accident and that I have it under control. 

When I flip the pot, we all stare at the excessive smoke from the dinner and I smile. I almost want to snap a picture and send it to my mother. She’d be proud. If we still talked. 

I shake the thought out of my head and we decorate with some parsley then salt. Me and Sam grab more plates and I serve the fried pigeon and traditional salad. 

“Woah, Angel. This looks fuckin’ incredible.”

“Yeah, what is that?” Sam agrees and I serve some on both their plates (though my mother would scold me for that one ‘we always eat from the pot’ but I don’t think they’re ready for that much culture yet). 

“Oh, uh,” I see both men’s focus on me and the food they’re trying, “Mahshy is just cabbage with rice, I guess. Broth too, but I used mostly water since y’all don’t have that here— but it should be just as good.” 

Dean’s the first to stop blowing on his food like a fucking girl and actually put the finger into his mouth. He chews and chews and then—

“Are you fuckin’ kiddin’ me?” My heart stops, “This is… oh my god.” He starts shoving more onto his fork from the top of the steaming pile so it’s the least hot.

“Really? You’re not fucking with me?” I ask, like a hopeful child on Christmas Eve, I bet.

“Angel, this is amazing.” I smile so wide I’m sure it could stretch to next Monday. I face Sam and he’s… he’s eating. 

Sam is actually fucking eating my food. Not that he’s ever not eaten my food, but he asks about the ingredients first, frickin’ diet he’s on or something and tries it first, but no trying today. Sam goes right in. 

“You said—” Dean says through a mouthful and it pulls a surprised laugh out of me so he swallow before resuming, “Said something ‘bout protein?”

“Yeah, yeah,” I start to give each of them a bird from the four on the table. It’s stuffed with a dried wheat mix I made. Honestly, I had to make literally everything on the table. America doesn’t provide the right spice mix, or sauce, or even wheat mix, for me have any help. And I wanted it to be perfect. 

“What is that?” Sam asks a second after he’s cut his one open. 

“Dried wheat mix.” And then I remember the fucking diet he was just telling me about— “Sammy, ‘m so sorry, I forgot about—”

It’s evident he doesn’t mind because he tried it with no hesitation then lets out soemthing between a growl and moan that I thought was reserved for the bedroom but was apperantly not off limits to my cooking too.

“This is absolutely fuckin’ delicious, sweetheart. How’d you… wow.” And I don’t think he’s actually asking anything, he’s just praising me. 

I feel a blush on my cheek from both the extremely positive feedback and small praises both men have thrown my way. I quickly get up to get them beers from the fridge but both men groan so i quickly look back to them.

“Where’re you goin’? You didn’t even try the food.”

“Getting your beers.” I smile and run over to get them then back. 

“What about you?” It’s no secret I don’t drink so I shrug and pour some of Sam’s pineapple juice/smoothie mix thing into my cup. 

I touch around some of my food, but I’m not entirely sure I made enough for both men after seeing them eat like they are so I want to keep as much as I can for both of them. I don’t think they notice because they go in for seconds— then Dean for thirds and the pot is almost empty when they both decide they’re full and there’s only one pigeon left, the one on my plate.

“Y’all like?” They both look offended and I laugh, “I’m so glad you actually enjoyed it. Can’t believe you guys enjoy Egyptian food like this.”

“Yeah? You made it so damn well, too.” I can hear the satisfied tone my boyfriend gave and I smile. “Shit! We should’ve asked what you do before you eat. Tradition in Egypt and all that. We could’ve really made you feel at home.” 

Dean doesn’t seem to care what Sam’s saying though because he’s leaning back in his chair, phone in one hand as he lazily drinks his beer. 

“Actually, it’s after we eat.” Sam smiles, urging me to go on, “but it’s religious, not traditional. So I guess it is traditional but just not—”

“What is it?”

“Translated in English it’s; Praise be to the Lord for blessing us with the food we’re eating and for our drinking with no power or will required from us… I think. It’s usually in Arabic.”

Sam nudged Dean’s foot under the table and I let out a giggle as they both repeat why I said and then I kiss Sam’s cheek quickly before going to get cleaned up so I can come clean after. I am still a bit hungry, though, so I might go for some pizza tonight.

+

“Hey, baby.” I smile and Sam dips his side of the bed as he climbs in I move closer to him, nudging my head into his chest.

“Hi, Sammy.” He strokes my hair, long fingers making me moan as I put my phone down and melt into him. “Missed you.”

“‘Missed you so much more.” He kisses my head and i drift to sleep in his arm. Feeling safe for the first time in a very very long time.

it’s so fluffy and idk why but I’m Egyptian so kinda really wanted to write this but also is she liking Sam or dean???🤭 we never know

we might next chapter tho.

[boywifesammy]

[scarletqueenx]

Supernatural Series Rewrite

Dean Winchester x Female OC

Summary: After experiencing an alternative life through the spell of a Djinn, Dean realizes that he is missing something in his life. He and Freya Holloway had been dating for a few months before his father disappeared and his journey with Sam began. Now, having made a deal to save his brother's life and with only a year to live, Dean considers reconnecting with the only girl he's ever had feelings for.

Author’s Note: this is my first time writing in tumblr. Also english is not my first lenguage

CAST | prologue

act i (season 3) — highway to hell

Tag List: @deans-spinster-witch @lmhf1

If you'd like to be tagged, drop me a comment

[nerdgrouphq]

Ok y'all. The SPN fic is in full swing as I brainstorm ideas for how this is gonna go. I'm personally gonna pretend that seasons 10-15 do not exist. All the boys (and girls) are a-okay.

I don't want to give too many spoilers for it, but the story will open with Grae Watson, a young woman in her early/mid 20s, working hard at a diner when she encounters ✨️the boys.✨️ Personally, she finds them to be a little odd, but nothing she hasn't seen before. Not more weird than the group of druggie hags that have been mumbling "curses" at her all night and keep watching her.

Then we have the boys. Sam and Dean who, as far as they're concerned, are about to go on their final job before retiring as hunters. It's simple enough: a vamp nest, and a smaller one at that. Dean is excited to put all of this mess behind him and *finally* become a firefighter. Sammy is just excited to get out of the life for good. Of course they're not gonna cut out Cass and Jack, because they're brothers ofc. But... they see the witches watching this girl. They notice a couple of vampires, too. This small bar is full of monsters.

The boys follow her home (they try to do it discreetly of course) but she notices them in the black Impala, and is wary of going anywhere by herself now. So when she has to go to work the next day and the Impala is still there, she calls one of her coworkers for a ride-- but they smother her with chloroform and take her to a barn instead. A barn filled with witches and vampires and they intend to kill her because of her ✨️mysterious powers✨️ that she didn't know she had.

Cue the Impala crashing onto the scene. Sam and Dean to the rescue. Now they have to deal with a coven/horde mafia after Grae, who isn't quite sure what's happening...?

I want to do an original plot set after the events that didn't happen. Name not final, but I'm thinking something like "The Girl with All the Gifts"? (Yes I *know* it's already been taken by that one movie BUT IT FITS SO WELL YOU DONT UNDERSTAND AND THIS IS FANFICTION SO IT DOESNT REALLY MATTER DOES IT)

(I really want to add a dragon or some type of lizard but how would I??? Dragons aren't super popular but I love them so much ;-;)