#SPN Writing Challenge

[wigglebox]

Suptober 2024 - Remixed!

Suptober is a fandom creativity challenge every October. hosted by the wonderfully talented and super amazingly nice @winchester-reload! This year, she has been unable to host it [read her post here!]

But, like a swallow to Capistrano, my art-brain wants an art challenge in October and I love this one a lot. My friend @thepagemistress and I looked at Jackie’s older lists, pulled some prompts we liked, as well as added our own!

We made this list to use this October but we also wanted to share it with the fandom in case y’all still want to do Suptober as well! Jackie isn’t hosting it, and I lack the resources at this time to properly host it —

BUT - I personally still intend on using #suptober24 for my creations, and I encourage anyone who may use this list to also use that hashtag and so we can all engage with our stuff!

I won’t be able to reblog all the creations daily, but I’ll do my best to spread the amazing work this fandom does. I hope we all can still participate in this community event! (Not just art, but writing, gifs, and anything else besides A*I*).

A text version of the list is under the cut.

Happy Suptober (Remixed)!

Autumn

Spa Day

Royalty

Birthday

Scars

Electric

Thankful

Witch's Brew

Moon

Mushrooms

Myth

Harvest Festival

Monster Mash

Fave Episode

Sigils

Falling

Wings

Family Business

Dark & Stormy Night

Limbo

Cozy Treats

Ladies

Fever

Branded

Parody

Enchanted

Prayer

Graves

Blue

Nostalgia

Halloween/Costume

[starrystevie]

it's 2004 when steve finds himself back in hawkins for the first time since he moved away for good. he has a master's degree under his belt, a mortgage on a house outside of st. louis with a dog and picket fence, and a rockstar that wormed his way into his heart next to him in bed every night. he's closer to 50 than he is to 20 and life feels good, life feels settled, figured out in a way he never thought he'd get to see.

"you gonna tell me why you're shakin' like a leaf?"

but sitting across from wayne munson and his sharp gaze is enough to make him feel like a teenager again.

steve takes a sip from his glass of water before setting it down on the end table next to him and watches the way wayne's finger taps against the side of his coffee cup. it's like he's keeping rhythm with something that steve can't hear, like a drum beat in his head that proves that he's the reason eddie has musical talent.

"i'm fine," he responds back to wayne, a stilted smile crossing his face. wayne's gaze deepens like he he doesn't believe him. "i'm fine!"

there's a clock ticking somewhere in the living room and the faucet in the kitchen is dripping quietly and it makes the silence that falls between them even more deafening. steve takes in a deep breath and nods absently as he rubs his palms over his denim clad knees.

"is he in trouble?" wayne asks in a gruff voice, low and to the point. steve shakes his head immediately, stutters out something that sounds like no, and wayne looks at him with his eyebrows pinched together. "are you in trouble?"

"no, it's not-" steve stands up and paces out some of his nerves, hands shoved into his pockets so that he stops waving them around. he sighs and looks back at wayne. "it's nothing bad."

"if it ain't bad, then just say it."

steve groans and runs his hands through his hair. it's harder to do this than he thought it would be, quite possibly the hardest thing he's done in years and that's including having to admit to eddie that he does indeed like the stupid beard he grew as a dare from jeff. wayne is still staring at him with a determined look, like he won't let steve get away with any of his usual charming bullshit, and looks so much like eddie that it makes something in his heart explode.

"fine! i'm asking eddie to marry me and i need your permission or something. happy old man?" he finally says, or well, shouts. it's too loud in the quiet house and he can see wayne wince from the decibel he reaches but it's out. it's off his chest and he's finally said it.

and wayne is smiling.

seeing him smile is strange, not because he doesn't look good with a smile, but because it's not often that steve gets to bear witness to it. it starts off slow, clipped at the edges before it spreads to his cheeks and crinkles his eyes. steve's breathing hard when wayne stands up and wraps his hands around the tops of his shoulders. he can feel himself shaking under wayne's grip and from this close, he can see the tears that he knows wayne is fighting against.

"it's about damn time, boy. took you two long enough to pull your heads outta your backsides."

getting hugged by wayne is almost weirder than seeing him smile. it's short, to the point, with pats on backs and chuckles that break loose from steve's too tight chest. part of him wishes eddie were here to let him be a part of the moment, but it would ruin the surprise he's so carefully planned, so he revels in the rare time between just the two of them.

"had to wait for somewhere to allow it first, wayne," steve mutters as they pull apart and he feels hope unfurl somewhere within him when he says it.

"well, alright, i guess you're off that hook then. but y'know," wayne's sitting back down in his arm chair and steve does the same, matching grins plastered on their faces. "you don't need my permission. that boy is crazy over you and if you think you ain't a part of this family already, then you're crazier than he is."

steve looks around at the pictures on the shelf behind wayne's head. sees young eddie and wayne with arms around each other, sees a makeshift graduation picture, an out of focus one of the two of them outside their house in missouri, one of all three of them around the chritmas tree in '99 when they had wayne come down to see them, and he thinks, yeah. they're already a family. at least now it'll be paper official.

[payphoneangel]

Supernatural: The Showrunner's Challenge

A writing challenge/exercise

I saw this post and thought it would be really fun to make a SPN specific version. Some of these I tweaked from the OG post, some are the exact same, and others are brand new. If you like this, please give the OG post some love for the creators great idea!!

Think you can write better than the showrunners of Supernatural? Let’s find out! This prompt is a writing exercise/challenge to create a ‘season’ of Supernatural via fanfic. Each chapter functions as an episode.

Prompt:

To start, think of what you would change about SPN if you were its showrunner. Would you scrap everything and start from new? Keep the series going with a new season? Pick a spot in the show and diverge from there? Ignore all the plot and play dolls with your favorite characters? 

Write a chapter that works as the Pilot of the show you want to see. At the end of each episode, roll a d12 to see what you must include in the following episode:

Roll a d12:

1. Everything at once: Roll twice, use both. If you get 1 again, keep rolling. Your only way out is to stop getting 1s. 

2. TMWWBK: Give every character in the previous chapter a number. Using a dice roll/random number generator, the character whose number is selected is now the main subject and POV of the next episode. 

For a greater challenge: include any character mentioned by name and any character with dialogue. (i.e. If Sam mentions Bobby, give him a number. If the waitress at a diner talks to Dean, give her a number)

3. Fan favorite: Your most recently mentioned character (or named object) is now beloved by the audience. You must give them a bigger part in the story, a special destiny, or an important new romance or friendship. 

If you roll 3 again; the character must get killed off to motivate their friends/allies/love interest or to serve the plot.

If you roll 3 a third time; either start over OR they come back from the dead.

4. High Concept Episode: Due to plot/MOTW/meddling gods/whatever, the characters are trapped in a different genre than usual. Roll a d6. 

High Fantasy/Sci-Fi

Apocalypse/Alternate Reality 

Time Travel/Time loop

Sit-com/Meta

Crossover/Stuck in a video Game

Slasher/Death Game

5. Filler episode: The next chapter must be completely low stakes and set you at ease. 

For a greater challenge: Flip a coin for each main character. 

Heads: Their filler is full of thoughtful inner world building and characterization

Tails: They are interrogating the milves (i.e. doing something silly and stupid)

6. Mothership: The next chapter must include the characters making references to/listening to/arguing about/having a feelings jam accompanied by... Classic Rock. 

Bonus: If you roll three 6’s in a row, introduce a Lucifer plotline (If you were ALREADY writing about Lucifer.... kill him).

7. Fallen Angels and Special Children: If the last character mentioned in the previous episode has special abilities, they lose them. If that character does not have special abilities, they gain them.

8. The Focus Group: The execs created a focus group to see if audiences would like more romance in the show. Flip a coin to determine the outcome:

Heads: The audience is into it and so are the execs! The next episode needs to involve a deep, sappy confession of either love or admiration between two characters that have not previously been romantically involved. 

Tails: The audience is into it but the execs aren't so sure... The next episode needs to introduce a budding romance between two characters that is only ever alluded to, but never stated outright.

If you roll 8 again:

If you got Heads on the previous flip: The characters have a messy breakup/divorce.

If you got Tails on the previous flip: One character dies right after outright stating their romantic feelings for the other.

9. Familiar Faces: A character from a different season is (re)introduced and becomes plot relevant. (ex: if you’re writing early seasons, include Kevin, Rowena, Ketch, Dagon, ect. If you’re writing late seasons, include Rufus, Cassie, Ava, Bela, ect.)

For greater challenge, assign characters a number and select via dice roll OR

Use a tumblr poll to have followers select

10. J2 Fallout: The two most recently mentioned characters' actors have, IRL, gone through a VERY messy divorce or friend breakup. You cannot put them in the same scene, but they must both remain relevant to the show. 

If you roll 10 again, they reconcile. 

11. Deep Analysis: Roll a d6. The next episode must include the theme of:

Grief

Bodily Autonomy

Family don’t end in blood

Family is Hell/Absent Fathers and Absent Gods

What makes a monster monstrous

Love

12. Are we ever really done? The most recently mentioned character's actor has decided to leave the show. Kill off their character. 

If you roll 12 again for another episode, the character returns.

There's a few bonuses to a character returning, so if you so choose, Flip a coin. 

Heads: the actor chose to come back and the character looks the same. 

Tails: the actor did not reprise their role so the character has a "new vessel." 

The other bonus flip:

Heads: upon return, the character is on the side of the protags 

Tails: upon return, the character is working against the protags

Have fun and happy writing <3

Please feel free to tweak this game however works best for you. And if anyone does actually end up writing and posting something based off this, PLEASE tag me bc I wanna see lmao

Tagging a few writing buddies who might get a kick out of this: @kerryweaverlesbian @shallowseeker @bloodydeanwinchester @gryptids @kingflups

[spnfanficpond]

SPN Reader Insert FanFic Writing Challenge: Gender Studies

In our Discord server today, we had a great talk about Reader Insert fics and what tips and tricks we use to entertain our audience without alienating them. At the end of the chat, the subject of Gender Neutral Reader Inserts came up. The main point we all agreed on was that we need to strip away gender stereotypes and just write a basic person in order for a GNRIC (Gender Neutral Reader Insert Character) to work. We tried listing some of those gender stereotypes and did not come up with many besides women being more emotional and men being less likely to discuss feelings. That discussion brought us to this challenge.

Because we want as many writers as possible to join us for this, all participants will be entered into a drawing to win prizes from the Prize List!

What (earns you one entry into the drawing) - Write a one-shot two ways: once with a Female Reader Insert Character (FRIC) and then write the same story with a Male Reader Insert Character (MRIC). Pick a trope and a genre (use your favorites or you can use our SPN Prompt Generator for ideas), figure out a scenario, and then write the same basic story for each gender.

Bonus (earns you an additional entry into the drawing) - Write a third fic but with a GNRIC.

Additional Bonus (earns you an additional entry into the drawing) - Once you've written both, tell us how writing each one made you feel. What basic differences did you keep in mind as you were writing? What problems did you expect to run into, were those the same problems you actually had while writing, and what unexpected problems did you encounter?

Fic parameters -

At least 1000 words.

The pairing does not need to be romantic, but you will earn an extra entry into the drawing if the pairing is romantic.

The fic does not need to have smut, but you will earn an additional entry into the drawing if there is any level of smut. (Kissing and some fondling or something like phone sex is the minimum to earn the extra entry.)

How to join - Send an ASK to the Pond blog here on Tumblr, DM @mrswhozeewhatsis here on Tumblr, or DM Admin Michelle on Discord!

Deadlines - No deadline to join. The deadline for posting is Monday, September 2, 2024, at midnight EDT. The drawing will happen on Tuesday, September 3rd, so there will be no extensions. All fics submitted will be added to a masterlist. Fics submitted after the drawing will still be added to the masterlist, but will not be eligible for prizes.

Other nitty gritty - This can be combined with other challenges and bangs or bingos. Must be SPN/The Winchesters. Can be a Pairing x Reader Insert, but it must be a Reader Insert. To submit your work, DM Admin Michelle. You can write multiple sets of fics to earn more entries into the drawing. If you have any questions, contact @mrswhozeewhatsis!!

We can't wait to see what you all create!!

(Divider by @glygriffe)

Admins

Michelle - @mrswhozeewhatsis

Marie - @mariekoukie6661

MJ - @thoughtslikeaminefield

Mana - @manawhaat (Founder and Admin Emeritus)

[whimsyfinny]

Hey my lovely people! So I'm spending a lot of time working on new chapters for I'm Not Your F*cking Maid and I've decided to have a little fun when I'm taking short breaks! I don't often take requests as I'm quite busy irl, but I have an idea. A few of you have asked if I have any other Dean x Reader works and currently I don't, HOWEVER, I'm going to throw a little competition! Well, more like a prize draw. I love you all, and I know a lot of you have amazing ideas that I'd love to help you with! The winners will receive a personalised Dean x Reader one shot (2k word minimum). This isn't the official competition post - I'll be making that tomorrow with further details so stay tuned. Who's interested?

@suckitands33 @jackles010378 @aliceeinwonderland420 @tina-theslytherin @deans-queen @hobby27 @sobearcowboy @girls-alias @selfdestructionandrhum @ericasabe @lacilou @littlemadamred @anneanirac @deans-baby-momma @swimregulas @ashdoctor @littlemarvelstan8 @atcamillanorrman @deangirl96 @zannemes @kr804573 @foxyjwls007 @divadinag @cookiemonstermusic258 @mysterialee @ababy-girl @joonseuph0ria @mxltifxnd0m @deans-spinster-witch @st4bl3-ch40s @feyresqueen @roseblue373 @clusterfuck-meup @urinternetmom @rachiem4-blog @ceeshellecee @mojos-hidden-castle @snowayumi @evzyi @mymuseisbipolar @magssteenkamp @koharuheartfilia @spookyysinsanity @safiyas-world @uncle-eggy @happyt0exist @supernaturalstilinski @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mrsjenniferwinchester

[nayeliq1]

June 12th, prompt: Adventure

Grey has overtaken Dean's hair.

His skin has gone soft and wrinkly, his knees crack every time he crouches down, his steps have become slower, his arms weaker.

But that's okay, that's just what old age is like. He's just lucky he gets to experience it at all, and with Cas by his side - equally grey, equally wrinkly. Getting old really isn't all that bad when you get to watch the love of your life doing it alongside you.

Today, Jack has told them. Dean had known it was coming, it's alright.

"You ready?", Dean asks that night, a wrinkly hand searching for Cas' under the blanket.

"Yes." Cas squeezes his fingers, smiling calmly. And despite the lump in his throat, Dean isn't afraid, and he knows neither is Cas. "I've been ready for some time."

"I know, sweetheart."

"Are you scared?"

Dean's heart is beating a little too fast, but he shakes his head.

"Not really", he says truthfully. "Bit nervous, maybe. But hey, that's what imminent death will do to ya."

"It'll be fine, Dean." Cas pulls Dean's hand to his lips, presses a kiss to skin marked by age spots. "We'll be together in the Heaven our son built for us. If you know it's not the end, death is nothing but the next great adventure."

Cas is right, of course.

"And I can't wait to go on that adventure with you."

"See you soon", Cas smiles right before they close their eyes. "I love you."

"Love you, too."

Dean falls asleep with a feeling of peacefulness filling his whole body, and when he opens his eyes again, their bedroom is gone. He stands on a bridge surrounded by forest, body young and strong. Baby is there, but he doesn’t get in. He waits.

There's a shift in the breeze, a presence in his back.

"Hello, Dean."

And Dean smiles.

Let the adventure begin.  

For @starcrosseddeancas Dreamy Drabbles

[youchangedmedestiel]

Chapters: 1/1

Fandom: Supernatural (TV 2005)

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply

Words: 4,159

Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester

Characters: Castiel (Supernatural), Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester

Additional Tags: Canon Compliant, Season/Series 12, Attempt at Humor, Fluff, Getting Together, Castiel Loves Dean Winchester, Dean Winchester Loves Castiel, First Kiss, Second Kiss, and then more kisses, Smut, they are so gone for each other, and they obviously look at each other a lot hence the title

Summary:

Team free will is in the car driving back from a hunt when Sam mentions Cassie, Dean's ex from at least 10 years ago. After Cas mistaking it was about him, the conversation evolves into describing how Dean is when he is in love. It all clicks in Sam’s head as he tells Cas how Dean was behaving around Cassie. 10 years replaying in his mind all of a sudden. Cas asks him what he understood and Sam tells him Dean is in love with him. From there, nothing is stopping Cas anymore. This fic was written for the 5K by 5 May event.

[whatstruthgottodowithit]

HALLOWEEN CHALLENGE 2023

Here’s a masterlist of all the Fics I have wrote/will write for my Halloween challenge. The aim was to post a fic a day for 10 days between 21st - 31st of October. All are song fics and not necessarily Halloween-themed. I’ll be updating the list as I go. Hope you like them🧡

Day One // Tennessee Orange

Fandom: Elvis Presley, RPF Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader Rating: Teen Word Count: 2407 Summary: I met somebody, he’s got blue eyes. Song Link AO3 LINK

Day Two // Die From A Broken Heart

Fandom: Elvis Presley, RPF Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader Rating: Teen Word Count: 1837 Summary: Was it ever really real if he don't feel like I feel? Song Link AO3 LINK

Day Three // Pieces

Fandom: Supernatural Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Rating: Teen Word Count: 1494 Summary: Baby, please release me, let my heart rest in pieces. Song Link AO3 LINK

Day Four // Southern Boy

Fandom: RPF Pairing: Austin Butler x Reader Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1455 Summary: Ain't nothing in the whole wide world like a southern boy. Song Link AO3 LINK

Day Five // Stay With Me

Fandom: Daisy Jones x The Six Pairing: Daisy Jones x Reader Rating: Mature Word Count: 1399 Summary: Guess it’s true I’m no good at a one-night stand. Song Link AO3 LINK

Day Six // Good 4 U

Fandom: Daisy Jones x The Six Pairing: Graham Dunne x Original Female Character Rating: Mature Word Count: 4793 Summary: Maybe I'm too emotional or maybe you never cared at all. Song Link AO3 LINK

Day Seven // I'd Lie

Fandom: RPF Pairing: Austin Butler x Reader Rating: Teen Word Count: 3271 Summary: And if you ask me if I love him, I'd lie. Song Link AO3 LINK

Day Eight // You Ain’t Woman Enough

Fandom: Elvis Presley, RPF Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader Rating: Mature Word Count: 4106 Summary: You’ve come to tell me something, you say I ought to know. Song Link AO3 LINK

Day Nine // It Hurts Me

Fandom: Elvis Presley, RPF Pairing: Elvis Presley x Reader, Jerry Schilling x Reader Rating: Mature Word Count: 7849 Summary: It hurts me to see him treat you, the way that he does. Song Link AO3 LINK

Day Ten // Jess' Dad

Fandom: Gilmore Girls Pairing: Jess Mariano x Reader Rating: Teen Word Count: 2426 Summary: You know I really like Jess a lot but… Song Link AO3 LINK

Day Eleven // Little Bird

Fandom: Elvis Presley, RPF Pairing: Elvis Presley x Addison Goodwin Rating: Mature Word Count: 4553 Summary: Walked down the aisle, breakin' my heart, lay down my pride, I know I gotta let you go. Song Link AO3 LINK

[v4mp1re-haven]

VAMP WRITES

Current fandoms i will write for...

JJK

MHA/BNHA

TWD/G

SPN

RESIDENT EVIL

AOT

TLOU

DC/MCU

THE BOYS/GEN V

INVINCIBLE

BRIDGERTON

ATLA

STRANGER THINGS

What i wont write...

i will not write smut for certain fandoms or characters. and adding to that, I'm not super experienced in writing that sort of thing so if you send an ask that includes smut i will most likely leave that to interpretation.

watersports or any weird kinks like that.

ped0philia/bestiality...

things for actors, i think its weird for me to be writing about real people so i wont be writing for them.

and anything else that's weird or makes me uncomfortable.

Masterlist…

ATTACK ON TITAN

ATLA

BRIDGERTON

THE BOYS

DC

GEN V

INVINCIBLE

JJK

MCU

MHA

SPN

STRANGER THINGS

TLOU

TWD/G

ASKS ARE OPEN!

[ladylilithprime]

Written for the @spnproshipbang daily drabble challenge!

Today's prompts are as follows:

Word prompt - Tattoos

Dialogue prompt - "It's three in the morning."

Character/ship prompt: Sastiel

SAM WINCHESTER HONESTLY felt like he had only just managed to close his eyes for sleep when he felt a hand gently touching his shoulder. "Sam, wake up."

Sam cracked an eye open and peered blearily at the glowing red numbers that mocked him with their cheery brightness. "It's three in the morning."

"Which is why I am not waking Dean," Castiel said patiently. "I know that you will want to see this. Come on."

Standing outside on the roof of the bunker and watching in wonder as the extended Aurora Borealis painted tattoos of colored light across the sky, Sam could only agree that Castiel had been right to wake him.

[fallingintolife]

Hold Onto Me, I'm A Little Unsteady

Request @trexrambling : Always good to see you on my dash ❤️ For a request…what about - The reader being seriously injured on a hunt to the point where she may not walk again. All the angst and potential comfort that comes with that. My main man Dean, please!

Summary: When your entire life, entire identity is taken from you in a moment; what do you do?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: Semi-graphic description of wound, traumatic injury, ANGST, reader is diagnosed as a paraplegic, this is a really angst filled fic so please heed the warnings guys 💕

Word Count: 1,896

A/N: First of all thank you so so so much for giving me this request @trexrambling . I really loved the challenge of diving into these characters and really trying my best to depict their feelings accurately.

With that being said, I personally have never gone through this injury I did do a lot of research however if I did portray anything inaccurately please don't be afraid to let me know.

Thank you again so so much for this request. I really hope I did it justice and that you enjoy it.

Sending all the love, hugs, and positive vibes

💕🥰✨

Quiet. Everything was so quiet. Dean hated it. There was no laughter, no talking, no you singing and dancing around the Bunker, no you taunting Sam about how you beat him home from the morning run; just quiet. You'd only been home from the hospital for two days now, after you being there for the last two weeks. You still weren't speaking to anyone, or at all. The last time he had heard your voice was when you were sobbing, screaming, begging that the doctors were lying. All Dean could do was hold you as you cried and attempt to comfort you, all while drowning in his own guilt.

You, Sam, and himself had been on a routine hunt, (to be honest though was any hunt ever routine?) After loring the werewolf into the woods with it chasing you as bait, (which Dean had been against from the beginning). Dean had just shot it, when as it fell, you tried to dodge it however, you over corrected and fell- straight onto a broken tree branch. He still couldn't get the scene out of his mind; the gasp you made when you fell, the tree branch sticking out of your lower abdomen, the panicked look in your eyes as you reached for him with blood dripping from lips as you continued to gasp for air.

As soon as Sam saw what happened he called an ambulance as Dean tried to keep you calm. Luckily it arrived pretty fast, even though it didn't feel that way. After a four and a half hour surgery was when the doctor led the boys to your room and had told them your diagnosis. You had suffered a spinal cord injury to your lower lumbar vertebrae. They wouldn't be sure until you were awake what the full amount of damage was, however, they said that because of where you were injured you may never be able to walk again.

Dean was so angry. He had never been more angry in his life. Not you. This couldn't be happening. Not to you. You were one of the most active people he knew. You loved to dance around the Bunker, go on runs, and brag about beating them at any sport because you honestly could, you even gave Sam a good run for his money when you went on morning runs together. For that to be taken from you…it wasn't fair. So when you had finally woken up on day three was when reality hit; you couldn't move your legs. You didn't have much sensation rather than pain. That was the last time you spoke. That was eleven days ago.

Dean didn't know what to do. The hospital almost didn't release you because of your mental state. You weren't speaking, or really eating but the moment you had heard them wanting to keep you Dean saw the panic back in your eyes as pleading tears ran down your face. You wanted to go home so that's what he did.

When you both had gotten back to the Bunker Dean had taken you into his and your shared bedroom. That's where you had stayed for the past two days; completely quiet and still, almost cationic. Dean was terrified. Even though you were here, alive and breathing you weren't, not really. This wasn't you. Yes, psychically your heart was beating but when he looked into your eyes you weren't there. The girl he fell in love with was completely shattered into the smallest of pieces. Dean didn't care though. He would put you back together piece by piece, from the ground up because he would be damned if he lost you after everything that you had gone through.

Not to say that he wasn't scared because he was. He didn't know what to do or what to say because he wouldn't lie to you. He wouldn't tell you that everything was fine and it wasn't a big deal, because nothing was fine and it was a big deal; a fucking huge deal. You may never walk again. You had every right to feel however you did and honestly he didn't care if you screamed at him right now and blamed him because at least then you'd be showing some kind of emotion. He didn't know what to do but what he did know was that he was going to be with you every step of the way to figure it out. You never left him, even in his darkest moments, so like hell would he leave you.

You and the boys had grown up together. Bobby had taken you in at a young age after he had found you on a hunt gone wrong. Your parents had been murdered and then drained in front of you by ghouls. The ghouls had just started to cut into you when Bobby and Rufus had gotten into the house. You were only seven at the time and they way you had hugged on to Bobby for dear life he knew he couldn't just drop you off somewhere so he took you with him.

The first time you had met the boys you and Sam had immediately bonded over movies and books since you were only a year older than him. You and Dean however had more of a love/hate relationship. Dean enjoyed trying to act like the tough guy and teased you mercilessly for years to the point that you had just resigned yourself to the fact he didn't like you. It wasn't until eighth grade after you saw him beat up a couple guys for making fun of your scars on your wrist, (from when the ghouls had tried to kill you), was when you realized he was just pretending not to like you. After confronting him about it and calling him an asshat was when things between you both slowly changed.

You and Dean dated off and on for a while. You had joined Dean when he went to find his dad and pick up Sam. Between then and now your relationship with Dean wasn't perfect by any stretch of the imagination. How could it be with hunting thrown into the mix? From him making a deal to save Sam which was understandable but also painful, to him abandoning you to be with Lisa, to him going to purgatory, and of course the Mark of Cain…point being; you and Dean had been to Hell and back, shit Purgatory and back and throughout all that you were still with him. So no. He wasn't going to leave you no matter what you did or what you said because he loved you and nothing could change that.

A loud thump at 3:10 in the morning was what startled Dean awake. On instinct he reached for you with one hand, and for his gun under his pillow with the other. As his hand made contact with his gun he realized that his other hadn't made contact with you. A chill immediately ran down his spine as he turned on his lamp ready to kill whoever had taken you when- laughter. Your laughter filled the room. Which honestly scared the shit out of Dean for a couple reasons; one being you hadn't made a peep for the last thirteen days and two; why the hell were you laughing? After making his way to the other side of the bed he saw you laying on your side still laughing.

"Y/N…sweetheart? What are you doing on the floor?" Crouching down to your level, he tried to scan your body to make sure you weren't hurt.

"I- I woke up and had to pee so, I went to get out of bed and immediately fell because I forgot my legs-my legs don't work!" You laughed hysterically as tears ran down your face. "How the hell did I just forget they just don't work?" Dean steadily watched you for a moment knowing what was coming next. He'd only seen you do this on a few occasions where you'd laugh and cry at the same time before you broke down. One of them being when you came to terms with him dying after taking the deal for Sam. Your laughter began to calm down and the tears began to flow freely down your face, as you poked at your legs with your pointer finger.

"I mean, if not being able to make them move isn't sign enough then-then what about how even though I can't feel them, I have a constant pain running through them?" At the end of your question you let out a mirthless laugh. Dean sat next to you and within five seconds is when he saw reality set in, truly set in and you lost it.

"I can't walk. Dean, I can't walk. What- what am I gonna do?" Pulling you into his lap he held you as tight as he could as you cried into his chest, your body shaking as panic hit. When you began hyperventilating was when Dean turned your face towards his.

He could see your mind racing as it finally was coming to terms with the reality that it was trying so hard to keep you safe from. As much as Dean wished you didn't have to go through this he knew there wasn't another way.

"Sweetheart, look at me. Y/n, sweetheart I need you to look at me." You focused your eyes on his as he gently wiped away your tears with his thumb. "There we go. That's my girl. I need you to breathe with me okay?" You shook your head in a panic mouthing the word 'can't'. "Yes you can. You can breathe baby. I need you to focus on me. Can you do that? Here," he gently took your hand and placed it on his chest as he took a deep breath. "Feel that? I need you to match it. I know you can sweetheart. Deep breath." He took a breath in, and as he did you shakily followed. He gave you a smile as a tear fell down his own cheek. "That's my girl. There we go, keep going sweetheart. You're doing so good Y/N, so so good."

Twenty minutes went by as Dean held you close to him coaching you through your breathing, still not moving even when you calmed down.

"Dean?" It was a ghost of a whisper but he heard you regardless. He looked down, still stroking your hair.

"Yeah sweetheart?" You avoided his eyes.

"I know this isn't what you signed up for. Hunting is your life and I can't do that anymore-" He gently, but firmly lifted your chin so you would look at him.

"I'm gonna stop you right there. Hunting isn't my life. Maybe it was at one point but not anymore. You, you're who I want to be with, who I want to spend my life with so if that means no hunting, then so be it. I'm not going anywhere. You're stuck with me sweetheart." Your eyes met his smirk before meeting his green orbs filled with nothing but love, sincere and honest love.

You didn't know why he would stay but you couldn't find a reason to doubt him at this moment because you didn't want to spend the rest of your life with anyone else either.

[smellingofpoetry]

400 Follower Celebration - Summer Edition

Hello there!

It has been quite some time since the first time I posted my first story here on Tumblr. I remember being quite nervous when I had to click on the post button and would like to say that the nervousness has gone since then but I would be lying. I was lucky enough to find some amazing people in here ready to support my work.

And thanks to you guys, today I’m here ready to celebrate a new milestone: 400 followers. I’m amazed and grateful for the support you keep giving me.

This time, I’ve decided to give you a list of summer prompts. I love summer deeply, and even though she always makes me wait for her, I’m already in the mood for warmer times.

Below the cut, you’re going to find the prompts and all the rules to participate.

RULES:

Writers must be 18+ to participate.

You don’t have to follow me, but it would be nice if you did since this is a follower celebration.

You can write about Supernatural and Dean Winchester, which isn’t surprising, but this time you can also write about Beau Arlene, Soldier Boy, and Jensen Ackles too.

You can add an OC character, or a Reader insert if you’d like.

Once you choose your prompt, send me an ASK to let me know. Once you finish your story, you can ask for a new prompt if you like.

You can write anything from angst to fluff, to AU, there’s really no limitation in that.

Do not write anything that contains: underage smut, incest, non-con/rape, Wincest, Destiel.

Tag all of your warnings appropriately, please.

No word count limit but insert the “keep reading” line if you go over 500 words.

You can combine the prompt you pick with other challenges and bingos.

There’s no deadline, so no pressure.

Tag me in your fic and use #smellingofpoetry400celebration within your first five tags, so I can find you easily. Also, if I don’t like your post within three days, feel free to send me an ask or DM. Sometimes Tumblr notifications aren’t the best.

I will reblog every entry and create a Masterlist at the end of it, but I reserve the right to not reblog any post that goes against the rules, sorry.

Feel free to send me an ask or DM if you need more questions or some clarification.

PROMPTS:

Backyard camping

Barbecue

Barefoot on the send

Beach day

Bonfire

Camping trip

Catching waves

Dancing through the night

Drive-in theater (@jessjad)

Fireflies

Fireworks

Flower crowns (@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone)

Fourth of July

Freckles

Ice Cream

Long car rides with the windows down

Night swimming

Outdoor festival

Picnic

Pool day

Road trip (@superwholockmarauders-primary)

Roasted marshmallows and burnt fingers

Sandcastles

Seashells

Skinny dipping (@dean-winchester-is-a-warrior)

Sleeping under the stars (@jessjad)

Stargazing

Staying up till sunrise

Summer fling

Summer rain (@kazsrm67)

Summer storm (@little-diable)

Sunscreen

The warmth on your naked skin (@all-alone-he-turns-to-stone)

Trip to the beach

Vacation

Warm nights

Watching the sunset

I'm tagging some of my mutuals who may or may not be interested, or could simply give me a signal boost.

@snowlovespie @avanatural @libre1rose8 @little-diable @waynes-multiverse @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @flamencodiva @roonyxx @jay-and-dean @deanwanddamons @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior @winchest09 @pastelpeaxch @eevvvaa

[thecatsaysmew]

Heartbreaker

Summary: Ivy (OC), the girl who had fought by Sam and Dean's side for a very long time, has now found herself on the other side of hunting: she's been turned into a vampire. How is Dean going to come to terms with this turn of events? Pairing: Female OC x Dean Winchester Category: kind of a strange mix of fluff and angst! Word Count: 1.4K Warnings: Canonical gore A/N: This fic was written for @avanatural's 1000 follower celebration: antagonist edition! I created an OC for this one, but Ivy can absolutely be read as a reader insert. I also wanted to bring in vampire lore from The Vampire Diaries, which is why there's the concept of the 'humanity switch' - but if you haven't seen the show, no problem, it's explained here! Also feel like the fic could potentially have a part 2. Congratulations on 1000 followers @avanatural, you absolutely deserve it. Your fics are amazing and it's been a joy to participate in this writing challenge! :) --- When Dean entered the bar, Pat Benatar’s Heartbreaker was blasting from the jukebox, and Ivy was dancing in the middle of the room, a bottle of beer swaying in her hand. A pile of dead bodies surrounded her. Most of them were splayed on the floor or bent over their chairs, bathed in a pool of red.

Dean hadn’t expected anything else, but the scene still made him grimace.

Ivy turned at the sound of his footsteps, and smiled tauntingly. “You found me! Took you long enough.”

Facing him was the same Ivy he had known, for years. The Ivy who hunted with him and his brother, who had become scarily good out in the field, and who had brightened up the bunker with so much liveliness. But of course, this wasn’t her. Not really. Because a hunt had gone wrong; they always did. She had emerged from it bitten by a vampire. Upon turning, she had run away, before the Winchesters could even get ready to help. And she had flipped her humanity switch.

“Where’s Sam?” she asked.

“Not here.”

Not here, because she would kill him the first chance she got. In this state, she would kill anyone.

Except Dean.

The hunter had a machete tucked in the inside of his jacket, but he had no intention of using it. He wouldn’t use anything on Ivy. Not when Sam’s research had revealed a small sliver of hope: humanity switches in this species of vampires could be turned back on. She would remain a vampire, there was no turning back from that now – but at least she would have a moral compass. It wasn’t impossible. Sam had come back from being soulless once. Garth was surviving as a werewolf. It could be worse.

Dean’s eyes fell on the body closest to him, a young man whose throat had visible puncture wounds. He stifled a swallow.  

“Alright, Winchester,” she egged him on, “Hit me with your best shot.”

He chuckled without humour. “Think you picked the wrong song, sweetheart.”

“So, I’m the one who’s going to end you.”

“No, you won’t.”

Ivy set her bottle on top of the bar, where the bartender was hunched over, his lifeless arm hanging from the edge of the wooden surface. The dim golden lights made the edges of her dark hair glow a muted shade of amber.

The sleeves of her leather jacket scrunched as she folded her arms, meeting his gaze squarely. “You think I’m going to take one look at your face and want to differentiate between right and wrong again?”

Dean shrugged. “I got a decent face. Thought it would be convincing enough.”

Ivy’s eyes rolled. “Look around you, you think this is a mind that wants to be changed?”

“I’m nothing if not stubborn,” the hunter replied.

Ivy took a few slow steps towards him, the knock of her block-heeled ankle boots reverberating against the panelled floors. “You know something? Now, every day, the future looks a little bit darker. But the past, even the grimy parts of it, keep on getting brighter.”

Dean’s fingers curled firmly into fists as he fought the urge to reach for the machete.

“I like it dark. For once, I’m looking forward to what comes next. I’m not scared of anything anymore. All the monsters, the motel rooms, you and Sam whining about saving the world, and god, your sheer co-dependency…all of that’s in the past. And this,” she smiled brightly, gesturing at the graveyard she had created, “Is my future. And it’s exciting.”

Dean took a leap of faith after a second’s silence. “Well, if I’m such a pain in the ass, make me a part of your past. It’s gonna take you about…what? Three seconds to off me? Go on, then.”

Ivy’s expression faltered, her eyes narrowing as she glanced away, almost as if she were disappointed in herself.

He let relief wash over him. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Ivy’s voice was stiff. “Why aren’t you killing me?”

“You damn well know why I’m not.”

“I’m like every single monster you hunt. And you’re just going to pass off that chance because of sentimentality?”

“Pretty sure my blood tastes like candy, and you’re not gonna take a bite ’cause you got a soft spot for me?”

Dean only just realised that he had taken a couple of steps towards her as well. He disliked this. He disliked how much tension hung in the air right now, when it was the last thing either of them needed. But this was why Sam had agreed for him to go alone when they had finally pinned down Ivy’s location, right? The two of them had a tendency to gravitate towards each other. There was always that impeccable chemistry mixed with affection, which was a dangerous combination.

He had missed her every day after she had left. Even after seeing all of the evidence that lay around him showing how far off the rails she had really gone, he still missed her.

Yes, he was a hunter, but he wasn’t perfect. He never had been. Dean Winchester would forever go to the ends of the universe for those he cared about. He would gladly break every rule in the book. Ivy was no exception.

She should be. She should be, she murdered an entire fucking bar full of people.

Dean grappled with his thoughts. At this moment, he was also her exception. It was trust in that fact that had brought him here in the first place.

Ivy inched closer. She stood in front of him, her dark eyes fixed with his green ones, and slowly took his hands in hers, unravelling his fingers. She leaned in –

Don’t, it’s a trap. It’s a trap!

Their lips met, softly at first, and then the kiss turned furious. Dean lavished in the familiarity and the electricity of it, the way her body fit into his, as it always had. He gripped her waist with one hand and held her face with the other. The kiss deepened, their tongues deliciously lacing together, and that’s when Dean –

Dean tasted the blood.

He stumbled back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand instantly. “Dammit.”

Ivy shrugged. “Guess beer doesn’t wash it off, huh?”

Her eyes had turned even darker, with a smattering of veins crawling around her cheeks. A fresh set of incisors had locked into place. Dean took a few more steps back, battling a tinge of fear. He wasn’t going to run.

Ivy sighed. “Don’t worry, hotshot. You smell good. I can’t help the look.”

Dean was suddenly conscious of the time. “You need to go.”

“What?”

“You need to go. Sam’s going to be here any minute.”

Ivy turned rigid. “Thought you came alone.”

“I did. He put me on a timer, in case there’s any trouble. When he gets here, one of you is going to finish this job, and I ain’t letting that happen.”

“Dean –”

“Ivy, go.”

The vampire’s eyes locked with the hunter’s for a brief second. Her fangs had receded. Dean wanted nothing more than to kiss her again. Every bone in his body wished he could tell her to come back to the bunker. She could regain her humanity and they could figure this out, together. Instead, Dean watched her leave. Again.

Not even five minutes later, the engine from Sam’s car sounded from the outside of the bar as he parked next to the Impala. The younger Winchester barged in, gripping his machete tight, pausing in shock on seeing the bodies scattered everywhere. Dean raised his hands to show him he was okay.

“What –? Did…did Ivy –?”

“Yeah,” Dean replied, “She’s officially jonesing for human juice.”

Sam frowned. “Where is she?”

The older Winchester looked away from his brother. “I don’t know, man. I just came in, and saw this…and…I guess we just missed her.”

Sam took a beat. “Huh.”

Dean cleared his throat. “Shall we report this, or what?”

His brother paused for an uncomfortable moment, and then set his machete down on the nearest table. Taking out his phone, Sam responded, “Let’s.” ------

[spnfanficpond]

Secret Santa 2023 Masterlist

A Night By the Fireplace by @fangirlingfromdownunder

Summary/Prompt: SPN Pond Secret Santa: Stuck home because of a snowstorm

I'd Never Leave You Stranded by @samanddean76

Summary : Jared planned a getaway for their Christmas vacation. Jensen arrived the day before, but with the worsening winter weather, will he be able to get Jared from the airport? Or will their snowy adventure be a total loss?

Always Have Always Will by @little-diable

Summary: It's been years since Dean and (y/n) have parted ways, but perhaps this year's Christmas season is finally the right time to find their way back together.

Christmas Magic by @jessjad

Summary: Sometimes all you need is a little christmas magic to help you be at ease with the decisions you made.

The Christmas Present by @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

Summary: Y/N is beginning to wonder just where she fits into Jensen's life. Is she expendable?

Need by @hoboal87

Prompt: Renewal of Mating Vows

Unlikely by @apocalypseornaw

Summary: It's an unlikely pair. A hunter and a men of letters or is it after all?

Incidentally, It Was Christmas by @ani-coolgirl

Summary: Sam comes out to his brother. Dean handles it about as well as to be expected, and is pretty cool about it--right up until he realizes something rather distressing about himself. That it's Christmastime is purely incidental.

A Christmas Case by @spnexploration

Summary: Dean drags you out of bed to go to a case, ruining your Christmas plans. But does he have a plan to make up for it?

(Don’t) Hurry Down The Chimney Tonight by @talltalesandbedtimestories

Summary: Dean saved Reader from the supernatural on Christmas Eve years ago. Every Christmas since, she has always found a way to show her unending appreciation.

Happy To be Stranded With You by @thepromiscuousduck

Summary: Sam and Dean are stranded on Christmas Eve.

Not So Silent Night by @ladylilithprime

Summary: The hunt was a bust and Dean just wanted to kick back and a bar and pretend he wasn't missing his little brother like one half his lungs. Turns out the bar he picked was a better choice than he'd thought.

The Best Gift One Could Ask For by @heavenssexiestangel

Summary: Dean didn’t expect to spend Christmas with anyone, just like every other Christmas in the past. This year is different, though, and it brings many different things with it - family, hope, a new beginning.

Resurrections and Confessions by @schizonephilim

Summary: The holidays have rolled around again, and Sam finds himself grieving the loss of the angels he never got to have.

Christmas past and giving Present by @a-nah

Summary: The boys hunting for gifts. last minute Christmas.

Snow Globes and Forgiveness by @kickingitwithkirk

Summary: Even with Chuck no longer narrating the story, it’s not a Winchester Christmas till something screws it up.

This is it for the 2023 Secret Santa masterlist!!! I hope you show some love to our wonderful writers!!

For any questions please feel free to ask!

Admins

Michelle - @mrswhozeewhatsis

Marie - @mariekoukie6661

MJ - @thoughtslikeaminefield

Mana - @manawhaat (Founder and Admin Emeritus)

[violetmina]

Surprise! This is a random inspiration bomb! Write whatever the picture makes you think of!

Thank you so much for this kick of inspiration. And thank you for being so patient. I tried to stick to Boys TV canon. But I was watching Supernatural when I first seen this message. And despite my best efforts, it turned into this weird, long-winded blurb of what I think would happen if these two worlds crossed. Not to mention, I do adore Butcher...but I really miss my king.

Word count: 3,965

Warnings: The Boys and SPN level of violence and gore, swearing, mentions of alcohol.

"The fuck am I doin'?"

The question has rolled about in his skull many times tonight but this is the first Butcher has said it out loud. He stares down into the hole he kneels beside, oddly aware of the dirt edged under his fingernails, the gravel kissing into his knees. The little box resting at the bottom is inconspicuous but it - and its contents - leave him feeling a shade of embarrassment. He questions if he should snatch it back, go home, sleep off this drunken haze, and forget about the damn thing.

But he can't. He knows he can't. It's been itching and gnawing at the corners of his brain, latched onto his mind for weeks. Since Becca had left him standing dazed and confused on that bridge. Since he had nearly thrown in the towel thereafter, leaving his aunt's home blasted to hell and more battle scars on him, and MM, and poor lad Hughie. Since he'd shaken off the rejection and the fresh hurt and went to that bar. Fuming for a plan, craving for anyway to finally bring his girl home…and then that poncy bastard appeared…

Then, too, the idea of one of the Boys finding the box - perhaps curious Frenchie, or too-observant MM - and the line of questioning that would follow makes him scowl. He can almost hear them. The scoffing, the jibes, and that god awful look of pity they'd follow after him. Cause he'd finally lost it, hadn't he? Poor Billy Butcher at the end of his rope, stern atheist grasping at the straws of desperate superstition?

He wipes harshly at a streak of dust on his lip, then spits the taste of grit and disgust out of his mouth. He staggers to his feet, tightening his grip on the shovel, growling, "Fuck 'em!" Even if this doesn't work, at least they won't find the evidence if he leaves it buried here now, and he can forget all about it with the Boys none the wiser. He throws dirt back into the hole, and soon it devours the box with its keepsakes; the black cat bone, the graveyard dirt, and a grainy photo of him. With a churn of his boot heel to tamp down the mound, the earth swallows it whole.

And he waits.

Butcher tosses the shovel in the general direction of his beater of a Cadillac, turning about slowly. He peers down each lane of the crossroads he occupies, eyes straining in the dark for any sign of movement. He's not really sure what he's supposed to be looking for. But he sees…nothing. The seconds pass, and with each one he feels more and more that he's the only living soul out here in the middle of fuckall-nowhere for miles.

He waits a few more seconds. Two…three…four…And Butcher's eyes close with a sigh, head bowing. What did he really expect? Embarrassment morphs into shame, salty and sticky like the sweat on the back of his neck, and too familiar than he would ever like to admit. He sees Becca's face in his mind, eyes still diamond-bright with tears, slapping him with the realization that he might be wasting such fucking precious time. Knuckles still bruised from recent brawls begin to itch with the need to pummel and bloody something. Someone, and only because there is no mirror before him.

"Done playing hard to get, are we, Billy?"

Butcher spins on his heel hard enough that he almost makes himself dizzy on the spot. He's greeted by the same smug face from the bar weeks ago. He's startled and so the snark comes out of him with ease and a curled lip. "If it ain't the invisible cunt."

The man before him appears close to a regular bloke. A bit of a puffed up ego, perhaps. But Butcher, being skilled in persuasion and airs, recognizes a crafted mask when he sees one. The pressed suit, dry-cleaned over coat and well-shined shoes fit the business persona well enough. But there's something that Butcher can't quite put his finger on, something he clocked that night at the bar that he can't name that bothers him. Right now, he realizes, it's the fact that there's no vehicle but his in the vicinity, definitely no cover for the man to step out from…Where the fuck did he come from?

"It's pronounced Crowley," the bastard answers. "But I'll settle for 'King' just as well. Or 'Sir', if you can manage it in your current charming state. Shall we cut the pleasantries and get to business?"

"How'd you find me?" Butcher muses aloud, half ignoring Crowley's words.

"You rang?" When Butcher continues to look perplexed, Crowley gives an annoyed wave at the dirt beneath his feet. He glances down at the earth. Then back up at Crowley with a sneer.

"You're a fucking supe."

"Please," he drawls with a tone of amusement. "Those little narcissistic cretins couldn't dream of holding a candle to me. If you're going to insult me, Billy, surely you can do better than that."

"So what? You just a fancy business type with a couple tricks then?"

"Indeed," Crowley smirks, slowly stepping towards Butcher. "And I know quite a few swell tricks."

In his battered youth, Butcher had quickly developed a strong instinct for survival, borderline primal, for knowing when things weren't right. His SAS days had fine tuned it. And in this moment it's firing on all cylinders. He hears the accent that mirrors his own, should be damn near friendly. But it feels wrong. Instinct tells him that this is no East End boy. And while the other dark-haired man is a bit shorter and stockier, Butcher senses that he couldn't toss this one about so easily. When Crowley's steps turn to begin to circle him, Butcher turns with him and he knows now the word instinct is yelling at him. Predator.

Memory from the bar seeps from his alcohol-tinged brain as Crowley stops to smile at him. "Thought you said one of your associates would answer?"

"Actually," Crowley replies, waving a finger in the air, "I said normally one of my underlings would answer. I'm all in the business of making dreams come true. But your dream? Your little dream, Billy, has conflicting interests with some of my outstanding contracts. So I want to handle this one personally."

"Oh, so not a supe. But you still work for Vought."

"Now that is insulting," Crowley sneers. "On the contrary, I own them."

Now that piques Butcher's interest hard. It also makes him suspicious, makes him wonder if he'd be better off trying to kill this smarmy bastard than go through with this deal. "So you're old Stan Edgar now?"

"Good old Edgar and I have a different arrangement. Great for business here on top side. Although he's got quite the potential when he eventually joins us, that I'm certain. Perhaps, too much…" 

Crowley shrugs, begins to circle Butcher again as he trails off the mention of the CEO. "I know what you want. Or rather I know two things that you want. The first of which is that big, glorious, star-spangled oaf. If things were different, I would gladly get the annoying prat off my hands by serving his head to you, well-done on a silver platter. I'd even throw in a fine glass of chianti, free of charge. Or whatever swill that tacky thing you call a shirt reeks of."

"But you can't give me Homelander," Butcher cuts in, voice thick with disdain at the answer that he's so fucking tired of hearing.

"Fraid not," Crowley replies. "Unfortunately, as he is, he is one of my prime sources for crossroad deals. Can't slaughter that cash cow just yet."

"Then you're wasting my time," Butcher growls.

"I can still give you the other thing," Crowley calls as Butcher begins to turn for his car. "That one's a piece of cake."

"Well if you own the rest of those spandex wearing cunts-"

"Not that, you idiot."

Butcher glares, brow furrowing in annoyance and confusion. Crowley sighs, apparently as exasperated with the situation. He quickly strides towards Butcher, unfazed when his fists clench at Crowley's approaching. "Good God, make me spell it out for you. A little incentive then?"

Before Butcher can reply, or pull back to strike, Crowley grabs one of his elbows. There's the sick sensation of his gut dropping as if to sink into the ground, while the rest of him feels too light, too foggy. It stops just as abruptly as if he's slammed back into his body, and a wave of nausea rolls thick in his belly clear into his throat. He blinks, he's not where he was, and it's not till his boot almost slips off the edge and into the rain gutter, he realizes he's on a fucking roof.

"Mind your step," Crowley smirks, yanking on the elbow still in his grip to bring Butcher upright.

Butcher glares at him, the possibility of what the other man claims to be beginning to sober Butcher up. Before he can dwell on it, his eyes catch the color of paint framing the window before them. He knows this shade of yellow. He knows the pine tree reaching towards them.

"Wait…"

"Well, go on!" Crowley lets go of his elbow to motion at the window. "Have a peek. Don't worry, nobody is gonna detect us. Even the cameras are deaf and blind." When Butcher still hesitates, Crowley gives a condescending look. "Really, Billy? With the list of atrocities you've done, a little voyeurism making you clutch your pearls?"

Butcher contemplates only for a second of attempting to shove him off the roof before he turns and peers through the glass. His heart taps against his sternum at the sight he finds in the bedroom before him. Curled tight there against the headboard-

"Becca."

His emotions are quickly clouded and turned murky when the lamp by her bed sparkles wet in her eyes, on her cheeks. He cannot see her mouth where she presses a pillow tight to her lips, clutched painfully to her chest. But he sees the picture beside her, instantly recognizes the faded Polaroid of them together in a place he now barely remembers but of a time he'd give anything to have back.

The moment it dawns on him that she's stifling her sobs, a knock at the door jerks them both with a start. A muffled "Mom?" and Becca scrambles to tuck the picture beneath her, wipe away the smears around her eyes. The door cracks open slowly and Butcher still can't hold back the twinge of contempt that stirs at the sight of the boy who treads in, Homelander's near carbon copy.

"Hey," she croons, voice soft and still a little watery as he stands beside the bed. "You okay, Ryan?"

"I'm ok, Mom. But…I heard you crying." His little hands fiddle with the coverlet. "And the last couple nights, too. I didn't mean to listen," he presses when her face falls. "Just…" His own voice gets thick, cracks, "Did I do something wrong?"

"No, no. Come here," she quickly answers, encouraging him up onto the bed for her to cradle him, run fingers through his hair. Conflict struggles in Butcher's chest, uncertain if he wishes the kid wasn't so unlike his father, so fucking sweet and sincere, or wishes that he had tried a little harder to get him the hell out of this godforsaken place.

"It's not you, sweetie. I'm just…" She takes a rattling breath, staring out the window, staring through him like he's a million miles away and not just a few feet and a bit of glass apart. "I'm missing someone. Someone very, very dear to me. Somebody I love."

"Can't they come see you? Maybe they miss you, too?" Ryan misses how her eyes screw shut and presses on, "Will I get to meet them?"

"I-" She gulps back hard. Then, "I wish you could. But I'm afraid that's not ever going to happen."

Just as Butcher thinks fuck this, fuck this place, fuck Vought, Crowley's voice reels him back to the present, mockingly sweet. "Touching. That's enough Lifetime channel for all our blood." And he ensnares Butcher's sleeve again.

"No, wait! Becca!"

It's already too late, the gut wrenching pulls at him before her name is past his lips. He stumbles on the gravel of the crossroads as Crowley releases him. He spins, murderous intent flaring in his eyes. "Take me back."

"No can do," Crowley says flatly, scratching at his beard absently. "No more free samples."

Butcher yanks out the sidearm tucked at the small of his back, aiming it square between the other man's eyes. He doesn't care how impulsive he's being, reckless.  "Wasn't fucking asking!"

"I don't bloody care!," Crowley snaps back. Before Butcher's trigger finger can even twitch, Crowley waves two fingers and the gun rips itself from his grasp, flying into the dark. Another flick and his knees slam to the earth hard enough to make his teeth click. They won't budge no matter how much he wills them to.

"So petulant. And thick headed. You damn near act like a hunter," Crowley bites out. "But you're clearly not. Otherwise you wouldn't have called without a stitch of protection. No charms, no sigil, not even a 'no demons allowed' sign on your flesh."

Crowley squats on his heels to look Butcher square in the eye as Butcher bares his teeth at him, his hands now as paralyzed as his knees. "Allow me to enlighten you, Billy. If I felt like being particularly barbaric…" Crowley snatches a handful of Butcher's hair, enough to make him growl. Crowley gives a slow, serpent smile. "...I'd hijack this rugged meatsuit of yours, go back, give your lovely wife a visit. And then make you watch as her dear husband tears her beloved son asunder with his bare hands. And that's just for starters."

A cold wave washes over Butcher. If he wasn't sober yet, he is now. He knows a bluff when he hears it. There isn't a hint of one in either Crowley's rough voice or wicked eyes.

"You think you know violence?," Crowley now beams, releasing Butcher's locks with a laugh. "Lucky for your little darling, I'm feeling more civilized. So we'll go with something a little simpler."

A flourish of Crowley's wrist and a sickening wet crunch comes from Butcher's ribcage. He wants to scream but can't. He can't breathe. All that comes forth is splashes of red, silently bubbling over his lips, on his knees, the dirt. Then just as sudden it stops. The pain subsides, he chokes down air, then gags and hacks up something thick. Viscera.

"How's your lungs taste in your teeth?," the demon asks, as nonchalant as asking the weather. "We can do this all night. Or…" Here his voice grows softer, perched there at Butcher's shoulder. "You can make it stop. You can make her tears dry up. For once in your miserable life, you can fix it. Make it all go away."

Crowley rises to his feet as the invisible hold slides away from Butcher's limbs. He raises his hands to wipe the burgundy froth from his mouth, his beard, spitting up another glob of tissue before he can choke on it.

"It's a hell of a deal, Billy," the demon continues, circling round him yet again. "You can have your wife back. No Homelander or Vought breathing down your neck. No sniveling brat in the way. Sweet Becca won't even remember he existed. And you can sweep her off her feet to whatever paradise you can find. Ten glorious years to make up for all the ones they stole from you."

Butcher manages to shift up one foot. His head is reeling at the situation he's gotten himself into. And from the honeyed promises the demon offers. "The Boys?," he mumbles distantly.

"I can make them forget, too. They'll send you and your bride off on a second honeymoon, and then go about their little lives. Who needs supe hunting anyway?"

Crowley now leans down in Butcher's other ear. "You can have it all. And all you have to give in return is that measly, tattered, blackened thing that you call a soul. You said it yourself once." Then, almost a whisper, "What have you got to lose that you ain't already lost?"

Butcher recognizes the interrogation tactic. Battery, break them down in body and spirit. Then offer something sweet, a flicker of light in the abyss. But even though he sees it for what it is, he is not immune. It's Becca. Ten years with Becca that he has wanted for so long that he fucking aches with the need of it. And what's a soul matter if he doesn't even believe in it anyway?

"You got a pen in that suit, you cunt?," he rasps.

"That's not how this transaction works. We talked about this, remember?"

Butcher blinks incredulously up at Crowley as he moves to stand in front of him. "You fucking with me?"

"Not the slightest. We can be quite a stickler for tradition in hell," Crowley leers down at him. "Deals are sealed the old Roman way." He rocks back on his heels in amusement when Butcher seems to contemplate. "Oh c'mon, Billy. Don't tell me you're getting squeamish on me over a little lip service."

"Fuck you," he snarls. Then his mouth curls, half smirk, half grimace as he slowly rises to his feet. "I'll shove my tongue down your fucking throat if I have to."

"At least buy me dinner first, tiger. Your wife know you talk to men like that?" The leer remains but the demon's tone turns serious. "Do we have a deal?"

Every fiber in his being is telling him to leave. Telling him to turn back, even though he's certain, he knows it's already too late. In his mind's eye he can see Becca, he can see him wiping away the tears. Just the two of them. He can see her smile…

"We have a deal."

The demon grins. He's unsure but Butcher thinks that for a split second, as Crowley grabs the back of his neck, that he sees a flash of smoke, redder than blood in his eyes. Then he purrs, "Atta boy, William."

~~~

In the polished, marble calm of his office on eighty-two, Stan Edgar traces his eyes over the New York skyline. His hands are folded neatly behind his back, face as stoic as ever. He doesn't move when he hears the crystal decanter behind him clink, or the swirl of alcohol into fine cut glass. Merely inquires to the dim in the room, "I take it that it's done?"

When he finally turns, the King of Hell smacks his lips with appreciation for the unoffered beverage. Crowley saunters towards the CEO, smirking, "Done. And done."

"So Butcher…?"

"Off to begin his tawdry happy-ever-after with his missus."

"And the boy?"

"In the tender, loving care of some of my nanny demons, stowed away in one of my personal hideaways. Until you provide him a new mother, of course. Do take care to keep your little insurance policy against Homelander better hidden this time. That's what he is, isn't he?"

"Of sorts," Edgar replies cooly. He moves past Crowley to pour a drink of his own. "I trust you wouldn't have been so naive as to undo all the work we've done for Ryan to have a mother by wiping his memory."

"Merely rearranged," the demon says between sips. "For the next ten years, he'll be of the belief that mummy dearest died in a tragic accident. The kinda spiel you and your marketing team will have Hallmark eating out of your hands."

"Only ten years. Not permanently?," Edgar asks with an arched brow.

"Up until the moment my hounds rip Butcher's bloody soul out of his chest. By then Ryan will be a strapping young man, all groomed and molded, rearing to take his father's place. As planned. And the true memory of Becca will matter little to him at that point." He smiles over the rim of his glass. "Consider it my own insurance policy. Of sorts."

Edgar stares. Crowley stares back, unfazed. After a beat Edgar nods. "And what of Rebecca's memory on that day?"

"You mean her psychosis? When she raves to the world of hellhounds, demons? Accusing the golden man himself of being an unspeakable brute? Poor, poor, mad woman."

The corner of Edgar's mouth tilts lightly upward. "It's certainly not my style. But you demons always did have a flair for the dramatic." He takes a long draw on his glass. He stops when Crowley stands toe to toe with him, the demon's expression humorless. Unreadable. "Don't tell me that you found that offensive? 'Sensitive' is not a word I associate with you or your ilk."

"More like…irked. Irritable. And up until recently, I found you to be a respectable business partner. But now? I find you particularly offensive, Stan."

"Me?," Edgar drawls. "Offensive to the King of Hell?"

"I gave you the opportunity of a lifetime," Crowley cuts quickly, voice low and sharp. "A bargain not entailing your soul. Because you're ruthless, smart. More far-sighted than I can say for most. And you're just damn good for business. But…" He points an accusative finger at Edgar. "...This bumbling incompetence from you and your half-wits has cost me."

"You dare accuse me of incompetence?"

"This mess, all this bullocks that your flying circus monkey started, should have been dealt with years ago. You, Vogelbaum, and that slag Stillwell had one simple job the moment Becca Butcher showed up on your doorstep; hide the kid with his mother, and deal with the husband."

Crowley shakes his head with a sneer. "But you couldn't handle even that, could you? Instead, for nearly a decade, a bloody, raging bootneck formed a vigilante crew, undermined this company, fed intel to the CIA by the ton, and took out several supes, including one of the Seven. And in so doing, like a trail of breadcrumbs, he led Homelander right to his bastard child."

Crowley leans in, shoulder to shoulder now with the CEO as he glares at the demon over his glasses. "Now here I am," he continues in a low snarl, "per your plea to wheel and deal with said bootneck. Doing collateral damage. All because you and your jackasses couldn't keep him from getting his murderous fingers on my fucking assets!"

The demon pins him with a pointed look, tone now dangerously calm. "You've got less than five years before the end of our contract. But if I have to come back in again and clean up your mess like I'm your daddy? Well…then you will find yourself in desperate measures when I renegotiate our terms. Strictly business, you understand."

Crowley drops his now empty glass on its display with a sharp clatter. Stan Edgar stands rigid, staring down the King of Hell in suffocating silence. Then, after a slow blink, he states, "The boy will not be found again. As well as the foster mother we hire. Immediately, of course. I have a list of candidates I prepared in the case of Rebecca's untimely death."

"Damn right you did," Crowley mutters. "Just remember. You keep your dogs on a leash, I won't have to unleash mine. Yet."

And Edgar is left staring into the empty space where Crowley had stood. He thumbs the glass in his hand pensively, spidery fingers tense from his ruminations. He raises it to his lips for a heavy swig, wondering which are worse; the petulant, obnoxious supes under him, or the demons that breathe down his neck? 

[nayeliq1]

June 7th, prompt: Stars

The stars were beautiful tonight. Dots of light in a pitch-black sky, no clouds to hide them.

Their fingers were entwined. Remnants of warmth in a tranquil night, no fear to divide them.

Cas had helped create some of those stars, remembered their constellations like the back of his hand.

He turned his head to the side to look at Dean, looking up at his stars.

Dean had a peaceful smile on his face, the silver glow of worlds far away reflected in his eyes. The gentle breeze moved his hair, his bare shoulders relaxed against the hood of his car. Cas' eyes were drawn to the array of freckles scattered there.

Cas had created those too, had arranged them carefully, mimicking the stars he knew so well.

"Hey."

Dean's head had turned, smiling at him.

"Hello, Dean."

"What're you thinking about?"

Stars. Freckles. Beauty. You.

"How much I love you."

And he leaned in, pressing his lips to the starry sky on Dean's shoulder.

For @starcrosseddeancas Dramy Drabbles