#dean dagger

[grande-caps]

Warrior 3.05 - 3.10

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[thenameisgul]

‘something went wrong, dean. Something always goes wrong, you know that!’

‘yeah, and why does that something always seem to be you’

idk about y’all but this one piece of dialogue just makes me physically hurt everytime i see it in gifs, edits or the show itself

it’s such a cruel thing to say to anyone but especially to someone you care about so much, your bestfriend, someone who never really had much to begin with and just lost the most important person in his life apart from you

this just makes me hate dean (for a few brief moments) everytime. It’s so sad.

[spn-here-we-go-again]

The way Bobby and Dean hug when Dean's back😭😭😭 The way Dean clutched the back of his shirt 😭😭😭

[bubbleguppyyy]

Oh, Little Birdy.

Chapter 3

Dean x fem! reader, Past! Bucky x fem! reader

Story Synopsis: Being plagued by constant dreams of a man with beautiful green eyes who calls you Birdy can be very confusing if you don't remember ever meeting him. You want to understand these dreams all while trying to understand why you used to harbor feelings for a certain Winter Soldier who wants "nothing" to do with you.

~ Needed some Sammy in this one~

----------

“Do you think they’ll come looking for you?”

You looked up from the book you were reading, locking eyes with a worried Sam. He was speaking softly, being careful to not wake up his brother. He wrung his hands together after you took too long to answer. 

Setting your book down, you sighed and looked out the motel window. At the diner across the street, a black sedan sat idle. It had been following since you made the mistake of using an old credit card, far more worried about getting medical supplies than making sure you were safe. 

“I’m sure they already know where I am. They always do. That’s what gets them off. They let one of us go if we escape. They let us build a life, a family, and then they take it all away. One day I’ll be here and the next I’ll be gone. When that time comes, Sammy, do not let Dean look for me.”

Sam shook his head, walking towards you. You saw a few tears drop but chose not to say anything.

“You know I can’t do that, Birdy. I won’t be able to hold him back if I also want to find you. We can handle them. We can find you and make a plan and bring-

You stood abruptly and grabbed Sam by his shirt, pulling him closer to your face. Your tone was quiet but stern, maybe even desperate.

“You don’t get it, Sam. Hydra isn’t some small group you can wipe out in one night. There are billions upon billions of them and they will never stop doing what they believe is right. Even if that means a human being loses their freedom or even their life over it. They wouldn’t stop at you or Dean either. Anyone you have ever come in contact with would be taken out, wiped from this Earth.”

Sam looked lost, at the loss of any words he might've used to comfort you. He saw the desperation in your eyes, the want to just be free. 

You took a deep breath and licked your lips, tasting the salt from your tears. You lowered your voice even more as you smoothed out the wrinkles in Sam’s shirt.

“But they wouldn’t send an army for you two. They wouldn’t even send a small group. They would send me. I would be turned back into their perfect soldier and tasked with making sure you two were dead. Then, they'll make sure that I remember that moment, the moment I watched the life drain from the only people I have ever called family.”

You swallowed as you looked over at Dean’s sleeping form. He was outlined in the neon light from the motel sign, as peaceful as he’d ever been. He had drank too much at the bar down the road and passed out the moment you guys reached the hotel.

“From the only man I’ve ever loved.”

Sam let out a shaky sigh as he watched you stare at his brother. You and Dean had been dancing around each other since the night you met. Sam knew you both had feelings for each other and it hurt to watch you realize you could never tell Dean.

“You have to stay away, Sammy. When it’s time, you have to let me go, pretend that I never existed. Promise me, you will just walk away.”

Sam cupped one of your cheeks with his hand, wiping the tears that started to spill down your face. The sad smile you gave him caused a lump to form in his throat. 

“I promise. We will walk away no matter what.”

You let out a sigh of relief and hugged Sam. He wrapped his arms around you and nestled his nose in the crown of your hair.

The sound of Dean moving and mumbling startled you both. Breaking the hug, you quickly padded over to Deans's side. You slowly sat down on the bed and ran your fingers through his hair. He made a noise in the back of his throat and snuggled closer to you. 

Sam watched from the other bed, his fingers still crossed and his mind made up. 

----------

“Miss?” “Miss.”

The sound of Friday's voice had you jolting out of another daydream. You realized you had been staring at your knife and quickly put it back in its case, storing it for another time. As you slid the drawer back in place, Friday called out again.

“Miss, someone is here to see you. I told them they would have to wait until you allowed it.”

You sighed and ran a hand down your face. It couldn’t be Tony because he would've just done an override and Sam is allowed in. Your head started to hurt as you tried to figure out who it was. 

“Uh, okay. Let them in Friday.”

The door slid open to reveal the last person you expected to see. Bucky’s hulking frame took up most of the doorway but he looked small as he wrung his hands, eyes averted to the floor. It reminded you of Sammy.

That"s right. Sam and Dean. Those were their names. You need to write those down. 

Looking for a piece of paper and pen, you remembered the soldier at the door. 

“Oh, Bucky, what can I do for you? Do you need your gun?”

You rummaged in one of the many drawers while you waited for him to answer. How the hell was there not any paper or writing utensils in this stupid, fu-

“I wanted to thank you, for earlier. I know Steve can be very overprotective but you were right about me needing more help.”

Bucky’s voice was way too close and as you whipped around, you found him standing right behind you. He was still not looking at you and playing with his hands. You slowly closed the drawer behind you, effectively creating some distance between you and Bucky. Before you could respond he started speaking again. 

“I mean he also doesn’t know the full extent of our past and so I think he just assumes we were aware of each other but not that we worked together or anything. I’m sorry he’s been picking fights with you, that’s my fault. I’ll let him know a little more and tell him to back off.”

Bucky was looking at you now, gunmetal blue eyes staring right through you. Something felt off about this. You and Steve fighting like this happened at least three times a week and Bucky had never found you afterward. He also had never talked to you like this. 

“It’s fine Bucky, really. I understand Steve being overprotective, especially since he just got you back and everyone keeps trying to take you away. I appreciate you being willing to talk to him, it would definitely help me out, especially right now. If you need any help with finding a therapist or just need someone to talk to who knows what you went through, I’m always here.”

You gave Bucky a small smile and received a lopsided grin from him. It looked like he was about to say something else but you noticed a notepad and pen on one of the toolboxes and quickly skirted around Bucky, effectively cutting him off. 

You quickly jotted down the boys' names and any other small detail you needed, ripped it out and stuffed it in your pocket. 

“Well, I’m glad we had this talk, Bucky. I really need to go get things ready for our mission so I’ll be seeing you!”

With that, you bolted out of the weapons room and into the elevator before Bucky could catch up if he wanted to. You had felt him staring at you the entire time you were writing things down and when glanced up at the reflection of him in the glass, he had this unreadable expression on his face. Was he annoyed? Maybe just emotionally constipated? It didn’t matter, you had other things to worry about. 

However, you didn’t realize how careless you had been. You had forgotten you had been in the room with another highly intelligent assassin. Bucky wasn’t dumb. He knew what you had been dreaming about, what you had been remembering. He had done everything in his power to keep it from happening but it was inevitable.

As he shaded the pencil over the indents from your writing, he revealed the names of the men he took you from. 

The name of a man you considered your twin. Your partner in crime.

Sam.

The name of the man you have always loved. The name of the man that wasn’t him.

Dean.

You’re a lot closer to figuring it out than Bucky thought. Let’s just hope you don’t remember the night you were taken back from the brothers.

[maryhadalotofshows]

Chapter 4:Unravelling the Mystery

Jake could feel their eyes on him. It felt as if they were all trying to look for answers. Taking a deep breath, he looked at Lexi one more time. Breathing out, he lifted his head, locking eyes with Ice before he began to speak.

 

"I was on leave three months ago. I went home to see my friends, only to find that something strange was happening. The townspeople were disappearing. You see, I'm naturally nosy, and I couldn't resist the urge to investigate these mysterious disappearances. What I discovered was that they all had one thing in common: they had visited Bobby's Saloon. So, one fateful Friday night, I decided to pay it a visit..."

THREE MONTHS AGO

 

Jake Seresin approached Bobby's saloon. It was strategically situated on the outskirts of town, where the last vestiges of untamed nature still held sway.

 

The facade of the building paid homage to a bygone era, a time immortalized in pop culture and history books. The dark wood cladding, worn and aged saloon doors, and an atmosphere that hinted at lurking dangers in the wilderness all combined to transport you back to the wild west. The illusion, however, was shattered by the presence of modern automobiles, a jarring contrast to the otherwise carefully maintained ambiance. The moment you crossed the threshold, the past came alive, undisturbed by the march of progress. Lanterns cast warm, flickering light that painted moving silhouettes on the walls. An expertly preserved piano sat nestled in the corner, its keys expertly tinkered with by a silent pianist who played melancholic tunes from a forgotten era. The tables, scarred and stained with history, bore silent witness to countless tales. The staff and patrons alike were dressed in period-appropriate attire, making Jake feel like he'd stepped into a time warp.

 

As Jake settled onto one of the well-worn barstools, he couldn't help but marvel at the craftsmanship of the saloon. The scent of aged wood mingled with the faint aroma of cigar smoke, drawing him deeper into the past. Lantern light danced upon the walls, creating elongated shadows that seemed to whisper secrets of the wild west.

 

Bobby, the bartender and owner, regarded Jake with a curious glint in his eye. His attire, a vest, and shirt straight out of history, added an authentic touch to the establishment. "Welcome to my saloon. How can we help you this evening? I have not seen you here before. Are you new to the area?"

 

Jake, choosing his words carefully, replied, "No, I'm not new to the area. Unfortunately, I've been away for work." He kept his tone intentionally vague, maintaining a protective barrier between his personal life and this enigmatic proprietor. "I just got back into town a while ago, after travelling for the past five years."

 

Bobby's gaze held a flicker of interest, though Jake couldn't quite decipher whether it was genuine curiosity or something more inscrutable. "Five years is a long time to be away," Bobby mused, polishing a glass with well-practised motions. "There must be quite a story behind that."

 

Jake offered a faint smile, though his eyes remained guarded. "Yes, it's been quite the journey," he admitted, his mind already working on an excuse to leave the saloon before too long. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss, an underlying tension that hung in the air. As the sombre tunes from the piano man filled the room, Jake's senses were on high alert. Maybe it was a mistake to investigate without telling anyone. He considered abandoning his "mission." He couldn't do that guilt wouldn't allow, especially after what happened to his wingman, a tragedy that had resulted in his first kill.

[hellverse]

the way dean says “and i forgive you, of course i forgive you” with the heavy emphasis on “of course” like it shouldn’t ever be a question. because at the end of the day, he will always forgive him. pain pain pain

[zoeyisagaynerd]

i love how in the other dimension tandy is sure that nico is bullshitting only to realize in the end that her and karolina really are just that corny

[frimleyblogger]

Triple Quest

A review of Triple Quest by E R Punshon – 240409 The thirty-fourth and penultimate novel in Punshon’s long running Bobby Owen series was originally published in 1955 and has been reissued by Dean Street Press. As I approach the end of the series I have been eking the books out, savouring them like a gourmand, and in this novel Punshon does not disappoint. It is a complex story that has some…

[fake-name-fake-tits]

Bro I just dreamt I was on supernatural 😭

I was besties with Sam and Dean

And I somehow had romantic tension with both of them 😭😭

[thefriendlypigeon]

“Cas! What the hell are you doing in here?!” Dean practically yelped. Castiel stood frozen, phone in one hand, the other half-raised and immediately forgotten. His mouth hung open as if every functioning brain cell had spontaneously vacated the premises. His eyes were growing to a worrying size with each passing second, steadfastly fixed at waist level. He unabashedly stared at the frilly pink lace peeking out of Dean’s ripped, borderline-offensive cut-off jean shorts. Both men stopped breathing. An entirely awkward second later with Dean's face color shifting through exciting undiscovered shades of red, Castiel swallowed audibly.  Dean stared daggers. “You know what, Cas? I own it." A wet sponge hitting Castiel square in the face pulled him back into reality. "Now get working and help me clean Baby!"

I HAD SO MUCH FUN DRAWING THIS!! I should draw more ridiculous things in the future :D

Prints available here!

👉COMMISSIONS ARE OPEN👈

[my social media links]

[supernaturalistthings]

Roadhouse

Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18 contains smut

Summary: You have had feelings for Dean Winchester for a while and never thought you guys would be more than friends but on a case Dean's jealousy gets the best of him and the truth comes out.

You set your takeout box on the desk and sigh, putting a hand to your head to rub between your eyebrows looking for some kind of stress relief. Detective Bass eyes you and sets his takeout box on the table separating the two of you and leans in, setting one of his hands on the table. His gaze is intense and it puzzles you further.

“We will figure this out” he finally says

He was partially correct, he just had the wrong “We”. You and Dean would figure this out, you had been on this case for two days now and still hadn't pinpointed what exactly was attacking the women in this town. You were utterly exhausted, this cheap pencil skirt keeps riding up, the fluorescent lighting is giving you a headache, and the autopsy results are starting to blur.

“Hey you want to turn in” he says, reaching around the table to rest his hand on your thigh. Don't get it twisted, Detectives Bass’s sharp features, dark hair, and lean build could make any woman's head turn however you have had a certain hunter on your mind and had for a while now. As if on cue you hear a familiar voice say

“Hope i'm not interrupting” Bass’s hand flinches back as Dean stands in the doorway with his hands in his pockets. 

He tensely walks forwards and takes a seat on your side of the table. Straightening his suit out as he does. He sends a look laced with daggers into your profile and you tense. You know he's as annoyed about this case as you were and try to let it go.

“You're not, we were just finishing up actually” You reply. You stand up and start to gather the files on the table when you look over. Dean's eyes aren't on you but on the detective across the table, His jaw is locked and his hand is clenched in a fist so hard that his knuckles are turning white. You turn your attention back to the papers and then look up and make direct eye contact with the detective. He was looking directly at you with his hand running over his bottom lip and chin, if you didn't know better you'd say that was lust in his eyes.

“Well it's been a pleasure working with you tonight Agent Seager…” he says referring to you, “... it's just been wonderful” He reaches a hand out intended for you to take, and you do. You shake his hand and he looks so deeply into your eyes, he might be able to see through you.

The silence is interrupted by Dean clearing his throat and standing and reaching his hand out to shake the detective's “Pleasures all mine” their hand meets and the tension is palpable. Dean is intense right now and it makes Bass shift on his feet. Your confusion was probably written on your face. Dean drops his hand but not his gaze and you put your hand on his upper arm to break the match. Dean looks at you annoyed, rolls his eyes and starts making his way towards the door with you following behind. You try to match his pace as you two hastily head toward the exit.

The big exit doors open and as soon as they do Dean turns back and without saying anything grabs your hand and starts literally walking you to the car. You're struggling to keep his pace and your mind is racing at his touch, but also his demeanor and why it is the way it is. You both come upon the car. You open the door and get in and slam it behind you, fueled by Dean's attitude. He does the same and you finally cut the tension as the engine roars to life and he pulls out of the parking lot.

“What is your issue?” You say snarkily

He says nothing and stares at the road ahead, tightening his grip on the steering wheel.

“Whatever” you say after realizing from the length of his silence that he had no intention of answering your question. You sit and contemplate what you could've done to annoy him so much and anticipate seeing the motel come into vision. But it doesn't. A run down roadhouse does. Probably even the gnarliest bikers wouldn't even touch this place yet, here we are. You snap your head in his direction the second he parks and say

“What in the actual hell are we doing here?” He rolls his eyes and looks over in your direction in one swift motion. He looks down your entire body and back up again to meet your eyes. This isn't unusual. You have caught him doing it before but never so blatantly and certainly not while harboring such annoyance for you, or what you thought was annoyance. You had always wondered if it meant anything to Dean the way you hoped it had.

It was hard to care that he was annoyed with you when he looks as stunning as he does. His tie is now loose, his jaw is sharp, his hair is slightly tousled from running hand through it occasionally on the drive to the roadhouse. It was possible you were also giving him a subconscious once over and he must have noticed. He smirks and his eyes flicker from your lips to your eyes.

“I'll forget you let Detective Bass have the pleasure of undressing you with his eyes if you join me for a drink” he says still smirking and with a bluntness that stirs something inside of you but you're quick to retort 

“I didn-”

“Yes or no..” he says interrupting and without breaking eye contact, still smirking.

Your mind is racing with all the possibilities right now, swimming with all the endless ways this night could unfold. All you can say is

“Yes” with that he grins a jackpot smile and opens his door to get out you're too stunned to move when your door opening breaks you from your thoughts. You turn and see Dean's hand stretched out for you to take. You follow your eyes up and meet his green ones and they're a shade that you've never noticed before with an apparent sparkle. You take his hand and allow him to lift you out of the seat of the impala. He shuts the door behind and you and you take one last glance at each other before you both head hand in hand into the rundown roadhouse.

He opens the door for you and and you're confronted with a loudly playing “Night Moves’ by Bob Seager, rainbow strobe lights and the smell of cheap beer and cigarettes. You look over at Dean with a look that says really? and he says 

“Oh cmon, give it a chance” and with that he takes his hand that was previously holding yours and grabs your waist and pulls you to him. You're tucked firmly into his side and he walks the both of you over to the bar and orders a beer, a shot of whiskey for himself and a tequila cran for you. Your favorite, he noticed.

The first round comes and goes and so does a second and half of the third before you need a bathroom. You wait for Dean to finish a genuinely engaging story, all of them have been you love just talking and getting to know him without the thought of the world's doom on your shoulders. Right now it feels like only you two matter and every word that spills from his beautiful lips fuels this. You say you'll be right back and he smiles as you silently slightly struggle to lift yourself off the seat, It felt like you had been on for way too long.

You make your way to the bathroom and open it up and find it's not as gross as you were expecting. Shocked and pleased, you head to the sink and look at yourself in the mirror. Your hair is slightly disheveled from running your hands through it while talking with Dean, your dress shirt had opened an extra button and your skirt was becoming a little too short. You looked kinda hot in a messy sort of way but you decided to straighten yourself out and splash some water on your face to hopefully offset the alcohol coursing through your system at the moment.

You rest your hands on either side of the sink and try to compose yourself with use of your reflection when the door you thought you locked behind you opens and shuts. You quickly turn around to face the intruder and are met with Dean. He's staring at you in a way that takes your breath away and urge to curse him out for barging in. He looks at you the way you've always wanted him to look at you. He’s breathless himself when he slowly reaches his hand behind him to turn the lock on the door.

His eyes don't leave yours. He takes a few steps forward until you can feel each other's breath fanning over each other's cheeks. You can't think of anything else other than the hue of his green eyes, the few freckles he has, and how kissable his lips look.

“You drive me crazy… and you have for a while now” he says as he lifts his hand to brush some hair from the sides of your face.

“What-” you say, feeling like you're gasping for air.

“I can't see you with anyone else… ever'' there's a brief silence and then he tilts his head and whispers against your neck  “i adore you… you have no idea what you do to me..” his hands slowly and tenderly grasp your waist and you’re having trouble deciphering if this is actually happening or if that third tequila cran has you hallucinating on the sidewalk somewhere. All you know is his hands feel really real on your waist and his breath on your neck travels all the way down to where you want him most, that also feels very real.

“Say anything..please… I'll take anything right now…” He pulls back without taking his hands away from your waist, thankfully, the feeling is electrifying. His face has a tinge of worry of doubt and you can't stand it.

“I feel the same…” You say taking the sides of his face into your hands. You watch as the doubt is erased from his face and that jackpot Dean Winchester grin creeps its way onto his face once again.

“...I have for a while now” you say with your own grin. Proud of stealing his line and finally admitting your feelings to the man you adore. He leans in, sealing your lips and in this moment it feels fate. His hands move from your waist to the sides of your face as if he can't possibly get enough of you. The kiss is passionate, tender, everything you both ever wanted. Your hands ignite wildfires across each other's bodies as you explore and feel what you had both wanted more than anything for a long time now.

He places his hands on the sink behind you, caging you in and breaks the kiss to look down and steady himself. He feels ravenous right now and it's taking everything in him to not rip your clothes off and take you right here. You're not making it any easier as that is exactly what you want right now, it's exactly what you need. He looks up with his mesmerizing green eyes and says

“You have no idea how bad I want you right now...”

“Nothings stopping you...” you say in a whisper hovered against his lips while you regather the sides of his face into your hands. He kisses you again but this time with no sign of an end or hesitation. You pull his tie with both hands until it's undone and throw it to the floor. The kiss is feverish and intense. You love the feeling of him and he feels the same.

You start to undo the many buttons on his dress shirt and he starts to do the same to you almost as if in a race. You fling it off his shoulders and pull it down his strong arms. You help him slide yours down your shoulders and sneak a quick glance as it falls to the floor. You're both panting, desperate for air but even more desperate for each other. He carefully moves his hand over your breasts through your bra and just like that you're a moaning mess. 

“I want to see you… all of you” he says as he puts his hands back to your waist and turns you so you're facing the mirror. He unclasps your bra while standing behind you and slides the straps off your shoulders and as you watch as it falls off your frame onto the floor. He's kissing your neck and has his hand on the other side. His free hand is trailing its way from your nipple, to your stomach, to the ends of your now very ridden up pencil skirt.

He pulls it up all the way to your stomach and starts rubbing you through your panties. Soft circles to match the soft wet kisses all over your neck, the other hand moves down your chest and cups your breast and massages. His touch is euphoric and all you want is him. You can feel that all he wants is you from his hardness pressed onto your backside.

“You'll never want another man after what I'm going to do to you… I can promise you that sweetheart…” he whispers against your neck, while continuing to place soft hypnotic kisses, and rub circles over your clothed clit. You can see yourself unraveling through what glimpses you can catch in the mirror. You're rested against his toned chest with your head thrown back and eyes screwed shut moaning and gasping out Dean's name. He has just found his new favorite song.

When he pulls away, you snap your head to look in the mirror just to catch his devious eyes before he turns you once again to face him. He leans down and simultaneously reconnects your lips and lifts you so you're resting on the edge of the sink. His hands are on your thighs and he's standing between them. You guys are kissing all over each other. It's heavenly. You're both grinding against each other and you start to undo his pants and tug them down. He helps and pulls them the rest of the way down.

He's already hard and he's big. Bigger than you'd ever had. You take him into your hands and start pumping him eliciting a string of moans and grunts that only fuels you more. He’s wanted this for so long and it was about to happen. He takes himself from you and looks at you with a question, are you sure? You nod wanting nothing more. He smiles and kisses you again. He hooks a single finger around your panties and moves them to the side. He slides himself along your slick folds, relishing the feeling.

He slightly pushes the tip in and moves in and out slowly giving you time to adjust. He's panting and gasping at the tightness. You're grasping at his shoulders and loving the sensation. He pushes in further and you're singing his name in praise. He starts to move and then moves feverishly. You both have wanted this for so long you can't get enough. Youre hand are running everywhere over eachothers bodies and hes holding you in his strong arms as he fucks you. You can feel yourself unraveling and judging by the slight sloppiness of his thrusts, he's almost there as well. You tighten around him and cum which seems to set him over the edge and the next thing you feel is him spilling out of you. 

You're both a mess and simultaneously rest your heads on each other's shoulders trying to catch your breath.

“That was-”

“Amazing” he cuts you off and picks himself off your shoulder still breathless and gives you a quick kiss. Neither of you move, unsure if you ever wanted to leave this bathroom, this moment. You just stay in eachothers eyes for a bit.

“We should get going” you say with a smile crossing your arms around his neck

“So eager for round two?” he replies with that signature smirk grabbing your waist and pulling you off the sink to stand. He holds you there.

“If that's what it takes to get us out of this place faster than absolutely” you say with a laugh and it earns one from him as well. You both redress yourselves, helping each other along the way. You’re both smiling and giddy and it's just comfortable.

You both go to walk hand and hand out of the roadhouse bathroom and as soon as the door opens you're both greeted with an embarrassingly long line of skeevy bar patrons, all shooting daggered stares you and Dean's way. 

“Worth it” he says while looking at you, dare you say lovingly.

[grande-caps]

Warrior 3.02 - “ Anything Short of a Blow to the Head ”

Quality : HD Screencaptures Amount : 1.598  files Resolution : 1.920 x 960 px

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[prentissluvr]

dead eyes — sam winchester

cw : gn!reader, hurt/comfort, established relationship, canon typical violence, blood, death, weapons, and monsters (shifter), reader has a panic attack, character death (in a dream), nightmares, crying, kisses, unedited, 2.4K words. requested !

summary : killing a shifter with sam's appearance scares you to the point of a panic attack.

his dead eyes. you shouldn’t have looked.

when you do, it feels like you’re being tilted on your axis, and your vision swims for a moment. his voice, though distant, brings you out of it. we should go find dean, he says, voice gentle like he caught a glimpse of the horror that flashes over your features. horror because they’re his dead eyes.

but it’s not over yet. there’s still another shifter in the house, and the adrenaline of an active hunt doesn’t let you dwell on it.

you had gotten separated, just like you said you wouldn’t, and when sam showed back up, you had to point your gun at him, you had to keep him at a distance. this proved smart when another sam walks in. your sam, you think, because he’s carrying the silver knife he took on the hunt today… and because it feels like him. but you couldn’t be sure.

so you kept your gun up and ready to turn on either one at a moment's notice, even when the mere idea of shooting sam, even a fake one, made you sick to your stomach. what if i shoot the real sam? you had thought to yourself in a terrified moment before your insincts kicked in.

you offered to test yourself first, slipping out your silver knife and cutting a thin line to prove to the real sam that you can be trusted. the shifter and sam stare each other down, and the one that you think is your real sam offers to test himself with his own knife. right as he brings the blade to his forearm, the other lunges towards sam, pulling out a long dagger and aiming right for the heart.

two shots rang out through the air before you could even think about it, and the shift dropped dead at sam’s feet.

now, as you find dean, just barely having killed the last shifter, you know that your instincts served you well, and saved both you and sam. but it had all happened so fast. the realization that there was more than one shifter, getting separated from the brothers, then the confrontation with both sams. your sam, who was calm and collected, but didn’t try to worm his way into getting you to trust him. and the shifter, who wore sam’s face and played with you.

he had insisted he was the real sam, he had chosen to confuse you. sure, to buy himself some time… but you think it was for the pure entertainment of it too. that’s exactly what the shifters had done to their previous victims; posed as their loved ones, but turned violent and angry until the victims tried to hurt or even kill them in self-defense. then they'd guilt their victim for trying to hurt someone they love. and then of course they’d kill them, with their loved one’s face as the last thing they see. they were a violent, messed up pair of monsters, and you’re glad to be rid of them.

but they got to you too. maybe you are their final victim, because sam’s voice saying please don’t hurt me keeps replaying in your head. then there’s sam’s body falling to the ground, blood pooling under him so fast and his eyes open in death. 

it wasn’t sam. you know it wasn’t sam. but in the car ride back to the motel you’re overwhelmed with images of his dead body anyway. and the fact that you had to point that gun at the real sam because you couldn’t be too sure. looking down the barrel of a gun and sam being at the end of it… it just about kills you.

from his seat in the front of the car, sam knows that you’re struggling. he can feel it. your eyes on the back of his head, looking haunted when he glances back with a silent smile of reassurance. and he can’t even see your hands where they are, tucked into your lap, but he knows you well enough that it’s like he can physically feel the way they’re shaking. he wishes he could wrap his solid hands around your trembling fingers and rub your back to soothe your breathing.

he’ll have to wait until you get to the motel, and he’s thankful the drive is almost over. the silence of the car isn’t a comfortable one.

dean reads the room easily and takes to the shower the moment you arrive. before the door to the bathroom is even shut, sam pulls you into his arms, one hand wrapped around your shoulders and the other planted on the back of your head to keep you close.

“it’s okay,” he murmurs, pressing his cheek against you. “i know you’d never hurt me. you don’t have to worry about that.”

the way that he hand picks words and tone and volume for you, with ease and purpose and a complete knowledge of you, your heart, and your mind makes you melt into his hold. you mold to his body, you hug him back so tight, and you cry a few tears. just a few, because his arms around you are grounding and real and better than anything else you could ever ask for. you thought you might fall into a panic, let your anxieties and tendency to overthink things get the better of you. he fixes it all with a hug.

a hug and a love for you that compares to nothing at all. it’s like the way that he holds you and the way that he knows you, gently close the gaps where worry and fear and tears slip through. no stitches, no needle and thread, just soft bandages that hold you together.

⟢⟢⟢

you kill sam in your dreams. you don’t remember anything else. just what it’s like to point your gun at him and shoot with intent. what it’s like to press your hands to the bleeding wounds you made and see his eyes go still. you wake before you can close them with bloody hands.

you’re trembling and you don’t think you’re breathing quite right.

it’s just a dream. it was just a dream. none of it is real. you would never hurt sam, never on purpose. 

with a sharp twist of your neck, you look over at his sleeping form from your spot on the pullout couch. 

you share a bed much more often than not, but this motel is out of rooms with queen beds. last time you slept in a twin bed with him you almost fell to the floor even with him holding you close. that thought brings you out of it for a moment. but seeing him so still in bed is too scary for you to stay calm for any longer than that.

he’s fine, you think desperately. he’s just sleeping. if you could take the time to let your eyes adjust to the dark or see through the tears in your eyes, you’d be able to catch the rise and fall of his breathing. but you can’t.

you can’t even keep track of your own breathing as you stumble out of bed and towards him before realizing at the last moment that you don’t want to wake him.

so you put a hand to your chest and try to breathe as you turn around and make your way to the motel room door on shaky legs. the tears run and run like they can outpace the fear, maybe drown it, and you don’t realize how much noise you’re making as you fumble with the lock and the handle and the door that wasn’t this heavy earlier today.

you’re looking for the cold. the wind, maybe rain if you’re lucky. you’re looking for something to feel that’s not a phantom of your nightmares or suffocating guilt and terror. how could you even dream that? how could you?

and you can’t breathe, you don’t think that you can breathe as your knees buckle and you sit down hard on the concrete outside. it would hurt if you could feel it.

you squeeze your eyes shut and drop your head between your knees because you know somewhere in the back of your mind that you’re having a panic attack. but from your position on the ground and the intensity of your anxiety, it’s not enough. you gasp and gasp and can’t hear sam’s footsteps or your name falling from his lips until he’s right in front of you.

he doesn’t touch you for fear of startling you, but he says your name so soft and steady and worried.

“please look at me, honey,” he asks. sleep tints his voice, love colors it. “it’s alright. you’re alright. i’m alright.”

looking at him is hard because he’s already there, behind your eyelids and bleeding out. but he’s alright. that was his voice saying it, his voice calling you honey and maybe if you open your eyes and look up, he won’t sound so distant the next time he talks.

he’s in front of you. the sight of him sways a little, but he’s there and if you’re seeing well enough, he looks so concerned. so sorry and worried and a little helpless because he wants to bring you out of it and isn’t sure if it’s working yet.

but you hear him and you listen, and when he can see your eyes, it’s a little bit better. when you can see his eyes, it’s a little bit better. they are not open in death. they are alive and feeling and looking at you with love and pain and softness and sorrow. he’s so sorry that you’re so scared of hurting him.

“can you focus on me, love?” he asks, noting your distant eyes and faraway mind and wanting more than anything to bring you back to him.

like a miracle, you find out that you can. you can focus on his eyes, and then his voice, and then you see him holding a hand out in case you want something physical to ground yourself with. it’s instinct to grab his hand, to grip it and steady yourself with it like you have a million times before for a million different reasons. like when you got tipsy and wobbly or when you wanted to go home but you didn’t have one. when you missed him or when you twisted your ankle or fell in love. when you killed him in your dreams.

you still gasp for air and you still cry. but sam is there and that means you’re going to be okay. that means he’s okay, at least for now. he makes for now enough, and you’ll make sure that it’s always. i’ll protect him, you tell yourself. you’ll protect him.

but for now he’ll be the one to protect you; tonight it’s from your fears and the cruel tricks of your mind. he pulls your shaky form into him. he rubs your back and kisses your forehead and your breathing slows down. the air comes into your lungs and it stays there long enough to make a difference. you feel the cold and the breeze on your skin. there’s no rain, but the moon can be seen and it hangs over sam’s head. the moon reminds you of sam.

you walk yourself out of the panic attack without even needing him to ask you for five things you see or four things you can feel. he’s proud of you for it. of course, it’s his being there that helps you more than anything.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, “there you go. i got you.” he smooths his hand over the back of your head, soft and slow and sturdy. when your eyes flutter closed, the only thing you see is the imprint of the bright moon against your eyelids for a moment. the rest is dark and calm.

the fabric of his sleep shirt gets all bunched up in your weak hands. the t-shirt is soft and thin from wear and it feels familiar in between your sleepy fingers. it’s october. he’s probably cold.

i’ll protect him, you remember. your fingers loosen and the fabric falls away from your hold. it rides up and exposes his skin to the wind when you rub up his back. it falls back over the hem of his jeans when you rub down. you’re trying to warm him, but your hands are shaky and small compared to the expanse of his back, even smaller compared to the expanse of the sky.

for a moment sam isn’t sure what you're doing, but he smiles so sadly when he realizes. his heart aches with love and adoration.

“let’s get inside,” he whispers. you nod against his chest. he’ll be warmer inside. so will you. you might be shivering. he hoists you to your feet with steady care. your knees feel weak, but you hold his hand tight and walk back into the room. sam closes and locks the door, the guides you to his bed. he sits you down on the edge and crouches in front of you, wiping softly at your tears. then he leans forward and up to press a kiss to your cheek, then another to the spot between your eyebrows.

you fall into him, wrapping your arms around his neck, and he accepts you happily. he rubs your back soothingly, lets you tuck your head into the crook of his neck. he holds you there until you sit up. he lets his legs go sore and doesn’t care about it one bit. you heave out a huff of breath and he cups your face, thumbing softly at your cheekbone. your hand slowly wraps around his wrist, then you turn your head to kiss the heel of his palm.

“let’s sleep,” you mumble against his skin. with a soft heart, sam obliges, climbing into the small bed after you. he bundles you up into his arms before pulling the covers over your warming bodies. he kisses the top of your head, letting his lips linger for a long moment before he rests his cheek against the same spot.

“goodnight, sam,” you whisper softly, voice still holding a hint of its earlier shakiness.

“goodnight, honey,” he echoes, voice just as soft and prettily hushed. he wants to say more, maybe another ‘it’s okay’ or sweet reassurance. he wants to make sure you know that he’s not afraid of you hurting him, that he trusts you and that loves you all the way. but he thinks you already know, and that you’re better suited for silence now.

he’ll tell you tomorrow.

[spn-here-we-go-again]

Uriel is better than me because if dean and sam had mouthed off like that while i was trying to save the world i would have beat their ass 😭

[bubbleguppyyy]

Oh, Little Birdy

Chapter 2

Dean x fem! reader, Past! Bucky x fem! reader

Story Synopsis: Being plagued by constant dreams of a man with beautiful green eyes who calls you Birdy can be very confusing if you don't remember ever meeting him. You want to understand these dreams all while trying to understand why you used to harbor feelings for a certain Winter Soldier who wants "nothing" to do with you. 

----------

Walking into the meeting room, you were greeted by awkward silence from almost everyone except Sam, Tony, and Wanda. Tony gave you a small smile from the front of the room, trying to ease the tension. Wanda and Sam ushered you to the seat between them. You chanced a glance at Bucky, but he was too busy actively avoiding your gaze by practically hiding behind Steve, who was giving you an annoyed glare. 

You just sighed and sat beside Sam. If they wanted to be petty then you wouldn’t engage with them. Quite honestly, trying to repair your friendship with them was the last thing on your mind, the green eyed man taking up most of your thoughts. You made a mental note to talk to Sam after the meeting.

“Alright, now that everyone is here, we have received another ping of activity going on in an old Hydra base. This one hasn’t been active in a hot minute but Fury said we should take a look just in case we have another group forming again.”

You zoned out as Tony started babbling on about statistics and the specifics of the mission. You would get the rest of the information from Sam or Wanda on the way there. You just couldn’t find the brain capacity to focus on Tony right now.

Sam seemed to notice and rubbed your shoulder to at least try and get you back to the present. You were too busy staring off into space, thinking about what might’ve connected you to this dream man and why you seemed to have feelings for him, yet you ended up with Bucky. None of it made sense. Why would you-

“Are you even listening?”

You slowly turned your head from the glass windows to Tony, about to apologize, but Tony was looking down at the ground awkwardly. That’s when you realized who had asked you that. You whipped your head around to look at Steve who had his hands planted on the table in front of you, looking royally pissed. 

“No, I wasn’t listening. Some people don’t have to know every minuscule detail to do a job, Captain.”

You watched him clench his jaw, eyes hardening. You knew he was about to say something that was going to set you off. You had been more on edge since the dreams started and he had taken note of that. You usually liked rilling him up when you knew he had nothing against you, but now he did have something. 

“Maybe you should be taken off the mission. You’re not in the right mind for this. I’ve noticed you starting to lose it over the past two weeks. You’re not fit for a mission right now.”

The tension was so thick in the room it felt like it was suffocating you. Sam was looking between you and Steve, trying not to get in the middle again and have to choose a side. Tony gave you a pitying look and Wanda simply sighed and shook her head. 

Not fit for the mission? Losing it? Oh, he was about to see losing it.

“Not fit for the mission? Shouldn’t you be telling that to your pal Bucky? I’m not the one considered a national threat. I’m not the one that is under mandatory counseling even though I should be after all of the shit I went through. I’m not the one having to go through court every three months. Do you know what it was like to be one of the only women able to survive the soldier tests? Of course not, you’re fucking Captain America, why would you give a shit about some woman below you? You’re so caught up in yourself that you can’t even see that Bucky needs to rest and get more help, not go on every mission possible. Do not tell me I am not fit for a mission when you won’t even get Bucky, god forbid even me, the help we need.”

Your hands were planted right in front of Steve’s. You were in his face, seething with frustration and anger. He had no idea what you went through. He had no right to tell you what you could and couldn’t do. 

Suddenly, Sam’s hand slid onto your back, causing you to flinch from the unexpected touch. 

“It’s okay, let’s just take a moment away. It’s going to be okay, you’re going on the mission.”

You continued to glare at Steve whose face had softened some but still held that arrogant defiance. You didn’t want to back down, you wanted to see how much he and Bucky’s actions pained you. 

You slid your hands into fists and hung your head. You hated how you couldn’t hold a stare for very long anymore. With a quick glance at everyone, you left the room quickly. You wanted to go to the weapons room. You never understood why but, you always felt the safest there. Especially with the knives and rifles. 

“Friday? If Sam comes looking for me, will you let him know where I am? Also, he’s the only one allowed in here until I leave.”

“Of course, Miss.”

“Thank you, Friday.”

You honestly had to give props to Tony for creating the lifelike AI. She truly was a wonder.

You walked over to your weapons drawer, slowly pulling the entire drawer out to set it on the floor. You grabbed some tools for cleaning and sharpening and set them next to the drawer. Slamming your hand on one of the light switch buttons, you closed the curtains to the surrounding glass windows. 

Sighing as you sat down, you felt the weight of everything that happened come over you. A small sniffle turned into full-blown sobbing, you couldn’t stop it. You just wanted everything to make sense. Why did Bucky avoid you? Why did Steve always pick a fight? Who was the man in your dreams? 

You continued to cry as you grabbed the knife you had been found with. It was a good-sized dagger, its handle made of beautiful mahogany with swirling designs engraved into it. The blade was long and pointed, fitting perfectly into the personalized holder Nat made for it. 

You ran your finger over the top of the blade, slowly falling into another trance. Your finger stopped on a spot just before the hilt. There, sat a small engraving, two words that have constantly plagued your mind.

“For Birdy”

[maryhadalotofshows]

Chapter one: The Texas Gambit

Jake Seresin's eyes slowly fluttered open, greeted by the familiar surroundings of the Hard Deck. The other members of Dagger Squad were clustered around the pool table, their laughter and banter filling the air. But something was different, a subtle shift that he couldn't quite place. As he approached the bar, a rush of memories flooded his mind, the déjà vu as he realised that this was just before that dreaded mission. The mission that had changed everything.

Maybe, just maybe, this time he could fix a couple of events. The weight of the past rested heavily on his shoulders, a constant reminder of what went wrong, of the lives almost lost and the mistakes made. At the back of his mind, those haunting words from Chuck kept ringing like an echo, refusing to be ignored.

But he had made up his mind. He wouldn't let those words stop him, even though a part of him still feared the consequences. The echo persisted, lurking in the corners of his thoughts, an uninvited companion that whispered doubts into his ears.

His gaze settled on Pops, the crazy pilot and his father figure. Jake's first change would be to save Pops a boatload of money. The only downside to this whole mess was that all the effort he had put into building relationships was back at square one. Maverick, the once fatherly figure in his life, didn't fulfil that role anymore. Nevertheless, Jake was determined.

He walked over to where Maverick, Pops to Jake, was just about to place his phone on the bar when Jake swiftly grabbed the phone, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Well, Pops, I just saved you some money. You never place your phone on a ladies’ bar,” Jake said, his words catching both Maverick's and Penny's attention.

“Lt. Seresin, you just ruined my fun. I was hoping to have a few of your colleagues though him out of my bar,” Penny chimed in, a playful grin on her face.

“Well, milady, I suppose I've broken one of your rules then. You have my apologies. Allow me to introduce myself properly. Jake Seresin, at your service, a lonely cowboy from Texas,” he said with a slight bow, his tone light yet genuine and somehow still flirty.

Penny chuckled, raising an amused eyebrow. “A cowboy, huh? I'll have to see some evidence of those Texan roots, Jake.”

Jake glanced around the bar, his eyes lingering on the old jukebox. An idea began to form, a way to bridge the gap that had been created by his decision to alter the past. "How about a little wager, Penny? A dance-off. If I win, you don't throw me out. If you win, I'll do something for you within reason, of course."

Penny's eyes sparkled with intrigue. "A dance-off? You're on, cowboy."

As the county music began to play from the jukebox, Jake and Penny found themselves in the midst of a friendly competition, their laughter and movements filling the room. For a fleeting moment, the weight of Jake's mission and the echoes of doubt faded into the background, replaced by the simple joy of the present.

And as the night wore on, amidst laughter, dancing, and camaraderie, Jake couldn't help but hope that maybe, just maybe, by rewriting a few moments, he could steer the course of destiny in a better direction. 

Even if it left the Daggers to be confused with his sudden change in behaviour. At least this time around he is off to a better start with both Pops and Penny.