#dean is the only one who showed him any kindness really

[flickering-chandelier]

Was Any Of It True?

Pairing: badboy!Azriel x goodgirl!Reader

Summary: Modern/College AU! Az’s on-again-off-again girlfriend gives Azriel a proposition: make the new bookworm fall in love with him, then break her heart, in exchange for anything he wants. He agrees, but things get complicated when he falls for Reader for real.

Based on this request! 🩷

Warnings: angst, sexual language?, swearing, Azriel & friends being assholes

Word Count: 10.2k   oh lord sorry besties I couldn’t shut my little brain off

“I'm telling you, Az, she's pissing me off. The professor loves her, and I saw that she got a 100 on the exam,” Claire was seething while she and Azriel lounged in his apartment, eating the pizza he'd ordered.

“Mhmm,” he mumbled around his pizza, only half listening. Claire was always complaining about something. “And what did you get?”

“98! He took two points off because I didn't answer thoroughly enough,” she scoffed. “God, I hate her. She's going to push me right off the top of the Dean's list.”

Azriel blinked. “I mean, you'll still be very near the top of the list.”

Claire groaned, throwing her napkin onto her paper plate angrily, “That's not good enough!”

He rolled his eyes and she glared at him. “Don't be an ass! This is a big deal to me.”

“Oh, I know it is. This girl is all you talk about.”

“Because I hate her. Maybe if she got laid, she’d be distracted enough to slip up once in a while,” she grumbled.

“Yeah, maybe,” Azriel said, pulling his laptop out of his backpack and setting it on the table, a sufficient signal that he didn’t want to talk about his girlfriend’s arch nemesis anymore. 

No more than a week later, Azriel’s on-again-off-again girlfriend was off-again, and honestly, he was relieved. Claire’s obsession with being at the top of the academic food chain was bordering on insanity, and he was glad he didn’t have to hear about it anymore.

He was currently at a house party that Cassian had dragged him to, with a blonde girl that he couldn’t remember the name of sitting in his lap, one of her arms draped behind his neck, the other resting on his chest. She had been whispering in his ear all the things that she wanted to do to him, before Cassian interrupted, handing Azriel a shot with a grin. 

Blondie scowled at Cassian, who just smirked back as the girl that Cass had been talking to earlier sidled up next to him, wrapping her arms around his middle. 

Azriel knocked the shot back and handed the cup it had come in to the blonde girl. “Can you get me another one?”

She seemed annoyed, but took the cup from him anyway, striding into the kitchen. 

“Sorry for interrupting,” Cassian said, settling on the couch next to him, before pulling the girl onto his lap.

Azriel rolled his eyes. “Like I give a shit.”

Cassian snickered as the blonde girl came back, draping herself in his lap again, handing him another shot. He drank it, just as Claire appeared before him, her arms crossed over her chest, and her brow furrowed.

“What do you want?” he asked, his voice husky.

“I have a proposition for you.”

He smirked, making a show of tightening his grip on the blonde girl’s waist. “No, thanks. Been there, done that.”

“Not that kind of proposition, you idiot. Can we talk privately? I think it’ll be worth your while,” she said, her lips turning up into a sultry smile.

“I don’t know, Claire, I’m pretty busy right now,” he said, turning his gaze to the blonde girl, squeezing her thigh. She sighed dreamily, leaning further into him.

Claire groaned. “Look, Az, I really need your help. Please?” 

Azriel studied Claire, and he could see that it was true. She was wearing her most annoyed, don’t-fuck-with-me face, but her eyes were pleading. Sad.

He sighed, glancing apologetically at the girl in his lap before turning back to Claire. “Fine, we can talk.”

She led him into someone’s empty bedroom and shut the door behind her. 

“If this is about that girl you’re obsessed with, so help me,” he said. She winced, and he threw his head back. “Unbelievable. Claire, I don’t want to hear about this anymore! I don’t care about your problems.”

“Just hear me out!”

He crossed his arms over his chest, and raised an eyebrow at her, waiting.

“She actually is threatening my spot on the Dean’s list now,” she said, looking close to tears.

He looked pointedly at her. “And?”

“And I was thinking about what I said earlier… about how if a really hot guy was interested in her, maybe she would stop caring about her grades so much,” she said, smiling at him now.

“And?” Azriel just wished she would get to the point.

Claire sighed, exasperated. “I need you to seduce her.”

Azriel barked out a laugh, leaning his shoulder against the nearest wall. “You’re kidding, right? Why would I do that?”

She stepped closer to him, trailing a finger along his chest, her touch feather-light through his black t-shirt. She looked up at him from beneath her lashes, “Because I asked? Because I’ll give you anything you want,” she said, her voice dropping seductively.

He held her gaze, leaning down until their mouths were a breath away. Azriel heard her breath hitch.

Then he pulled away rapidly, and she blinked. “Sweetheart, you know I can fuck you anytime I want, right? That is not going to persuade me to help you.”

Her brow furrowed, her nose scrunching up. Oh, she was furious. Azriel's mouth turned up into his calculated half smile.

“What do you want, Az?” she huffed.

“Hmm,” he said, taking his time to think. Claire scowled. “I haven’t decided yet. But when I need to call in a favor of my own, you have to promise to do it. No matter what,” he drawled.

To her credit, she really looked like she was thinking it through, trying to think of another way to push this girl off the list. But finally, she sighed. “Deal.”

He pushed off the wall, walking towards the door. “Alright, so I just have to seduce the bookworm? Easy.”

Claire shook her head, her eyes still alight with her anger. “No, if I’m going to agree to any favor you could possibly want, you’re going to have to go further. You need to make her fall in love with you.”

Azriel bristled a bit, leaning against the door now. “I know I’m an asshole, but that seems too far, don’t you think?”

“No. If she’s going to be distracted enough that her grades will slip, you need to make it seem real,” she said, and then smiled as if she had a wicked thought.

“What?” Azriel asked.

“And then you break her heart, right before exams,” she said excitedly, her eyes burning with enthusiasm now. “You tell her, in front of everyone, that it was all fake.”

He rubbed at his bicep, a nervous tic that Claire picked up on immediately. “Jesus, Claire. I don’t want to ruin this girl’s life.”

She arched her brow. “Why not? She’s ruining mine.”

Azriel rolled his eyes and Claire pounced, “Any favor, Az. Any time, you can tell me to do whatever you want,” she smirked. 

He groaned, pinching his nose. “Fine,” he ground out. “Where do I find her?”

Claire beamed. “Where else would a nerd be? The library, of course.”

---

You shifted in your seat, starting to feel sore after poring over your notes for hours. Maybe you should go for a walk. Maybe. But, you still had so much to do…

Groaning, you crossed your arms on the table, laying your head down on top of them. Just a minute, you just needed a tiny break --

“Studying always makes me feel like that, too,” said a low, male voice. 

You lifted your head, bewildered, and nearly choked on your own spit. The guy who was for some reason deigning to talk to you was… well, what other way was there to say it? He was drop-dead gorgeous. 

His face was stoic as he sauntered up to your table, his jet black hair was just a tad unruly, his hazel eyes burning into yours. But it was his body that made the breath completely escape your lungs. He was dressed in all black, his t-shirt hugging his chest and his biceps, showing off his every muscle, and there were swirling black tattoos peeking out from under his sleeves. 

All you could do was stare as he took the seat across from you, leaning back with his arms crossed like the two of you did this every day.

“What class is that for?” he asked, nodding to the textbook open in front of you, the dozens of papers scattered around you.

“Organic Chemistry,” you said, trying to sound like you were normal and not completely surprised by this handsome stranger finding you in your favorite quiet corner of the library.

He let out a low whistle, “Damn, you are smart.”

“What, did someone tell you I was?” you asked. 

“No, I just figured when I saw all the --” he gestured to your cluttered workspace, “homework stuff.”

You arched an eyebrow. “Homework stuff?”

His mouth turned up the slightest bit, holding up his hands like he was surrendering. “You caught me. I’m not much of an academic.”

“Then what are you doing here?” you asked curiously.

“Now, that is an excellent question,” he said, and really did seem like he was questioning it. “Girls? Parties? Though I could get girls anywhere and I don't particularly enjoy parties.”

You nodded. “Ah,” you said. “Got it.”

He braced his arms on the table, leaning forward. “I take it you’re not into that kinda thing?”

A dry laugh escaped from your throat, “Definitely not. I’m really only here for the--” you mimicked his gesture from earlier, “homework stuff.”

He barked out a laugh, his stoic face completely transforming for the briefest of moments. You couldn’t help but stare. “You’re telling me all you do is study? A beautiful girl like you? Please tell me you’ve been to at least one party,” he said, looking at you incredulously. 

You blushed. “No, I haven’t been to any.”

You braced yourself for impact, for the teasing or insults to come, but he just smiled softly. “You wanna go to one with me tonight?”

Your eyebrows knit together in confusion. “You don’t even know my name.”

The side of his mouth quirked up into a smile, his eyes dancing with amusement. “What's your name?”

Rolling your eyes, you told him.

“Nice to meet you. I'm Azriel.” He raised his eyebrows, “So? Party?”

“I thought you just said you don't like parties!”

“True, but I do love the thought of corrupting a sweet, innocent bookworm,” he smirked.

“No, thanks.” You couldn't imagine yourself going to a house party, especially not with a stranger.

Azriel's cool-guy demeanor seemed to drop the slightest bit. “Why not?”

You looked at him pointedly. “I don't know you. And I have no interest in being corrupted. Why do you want me to come to this party so badly anyway?”

He shrugged casually. “I like you.”

“You don't know me!”

“See, that, right there,” he snapped his fingers and pointed at you. “You're funny. Smart, beautiful. What's not to like?”

You forced yourself to hold his gaze, even as a blush rose to your cheeks. “I'm not going to a party with someone I don't know. They make true crime documentaries about that sort of thing.”

He seemed to contemplate that for a moment. “Okay, you make a fair point. What do you want to do then?”

“What do you mean?”

“You can pick our first date, since you didn't like my idea.”

“What date?” You blanched.

He arched an eyebrow. “Our first date? Weren't you listening?”

You studied him for a moment. For the life of you, you could not figure out what this guy's angle was. 

As if reading your mind, he said softly, “Look, I just saw you and thought you were really pretty, and that it looked like you could use a break from studying. That's it,” he held his hands up again. “I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable. If you want me to go, I'll go.”

For a beat longer, you watched him, his body language, his ridiculously pretty face. What was the harm, really? You sighed, tore off a scrap of paper from your notebook, scribbled out your number, then handed it to him. “I need to study. If you text me later, I'll let you know where we're going on the first date.” 

His face broke out into what might have been the first genuine smile you'd seen from him. He took the paper from you, his fingers brushing against yours.

“Can't wait.”

You were half expecting to never hear from Azriel again. But just a few hours later, as you were eating dinner in your apartment, your phone chimed with a text. 

Az: Done studying yet?

It was an effort to bite down your smile. 

You: Taking a break for dinner. 

It was less than a minute before he responded. 

Az: Dinner? Is that what our first date is going to be?

You didn’t try to hide your smile this time.

You: A little cliche, don’t you think?

Az: Oh, absolutely. So… what are we doing?

You: Meet at the tennis courts at 7 tomorrow?

Az: We’re playing tennis?

You: No, but I’m not giving you my address. And I’m not giving away the surprise.

Az: So smart. So mysterious. I’m swooning.

You: Shut up.

Az: See you tomorrow ;)

You tossed your phone to the side, forcing yourself to focus back on your schoolwork.

The following day you parked your car by the empty tennis courts on campus just before 7. It was early spring; the weather finally started to warm up enough to not be too chilly in the evening. Still, you rubbed your arms nervously. You were starting to regret this. You didn’t know this guy at all. What if it went horribly wrong?

Before you could contemplate bailing, a familiar figure rode up on a jet black motorcycle. Of course this guy had a motorcycle. You couldn't see his face underneath the helmet, but you would already recognize those tattooed arms anywhere. 

He parked his bike, smoothly sliding off it and taking his helmet off before sauntering over to you. “Hey, beautiful.” 

You rolled your eyes, sure that he had said that to a million girls on a million dates before.

“What? Don’t do that,” he said softly, his smile softening and his gaze raking down your body. “You are beautiful.”

“Thank you,” you said quietly, giving in. 

“So,” he said, towering over you. “What’s the plan?”

You smiled. “How’s your mini golf game?”

He raised an eyebrow, looking a little skeptical. “Mini golf? That’s what you’re choosing?”

“Yes, it is. Do you have something to say about that?” you teased. 

His eyes sparked at the tone in your voice. “Nope. Nothing at all.” He nodded to his motorcycle. “You wanna hop on the bike?”

You looked pointedly at him and he laughed. “Didn’t think so,” he gestured to your car. “Lead the way.”

Your nerves started to dim as the two of you fell into a rhythm going through the course. The two of you were just talking and laughing like it was normal. It was… fun, actually.

“Shit,” Azriel muttered as he overshot the hole. Again.

You laughed and his eyes flicked over to you, lingering a bit. “You’re good at this, bookworm,” he said as he took another shot, sinking it into the hole this time. You watched, leaning against your putter, having finished that hole two shots ago. 

Shrugging, you said, “I used to go with my family a lot.”

He placed his hand on the small of your back as you walked to the next hole. You cleared your throat, focusing on your steps, on your breathing, on anything but how it felt to have him touch you so casually. “What about you?”

“What about me?” he asked as you dropped your ball onto the green. 

You took your shot before you answered. The ball landed just shy of the hole. “What’s your family like?”

“My family…” he trailed off, clearing his throat, setting up his shot. He paused to look at you for a moment before he swung. “It’s complicated.”

He hit the ball and it stopped right next to yours. 

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” you said, as the two of you walked further down the hole.

“No, you didn’t. It’s just… I don’t really talk about them with anybody.”

You nodded, not sure where to go from here.

Azriel smiled reassuringly, nudging you lightly with his shoulder. “Stop worrying.”

“I’m not worrying,” you claimed, your voice an octave too high. 

“You are. I can tell.”

You bit your lip to hide your smile as you sunk your ball into the hole.

“I think I’m going to need some pointers from you on the next hole,” he grumbled. 

“I guess I could help you out,” you laughed. 

So, when you got to the next hole, the last hole, he stepped so close that your bodies were nearly touching. You tried to control your breathing. 

“You’re gonna help me out?” he murmured, his eyes flashing down to your lips for a moment. 

“Okay,” you breathed. 

He stepped behind you, his body pressed against your back, wrapping his arms around you, his hands covering yours on the club. 

“How is this going to help you, exactly?” you asked, your voice slightly unsteady. 

His lips brushed your ear as he said, “Oh, trust me, it’s helping.”

You couldn’t say anything. Could hardly breathe.

“What do you think I’m doing wrong?” He murmured. 

You swallowed. “You’re hitting it too hard. Not exactly rocket science.”

“Mmm. That makes sense. I do tend to go… hard.”

That finally had you coming to your senses. You stepped out of his grasp, turning back to glare at him when you were a safe distance away. 

The side of his mouth turned up into a smile. “Sorry. I couldn't help myself.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at him again. “Just take your shot.”

He smirked at you for a moment, before he swung, and the ball went right into the hole. 

He turned to you, his eyes wide. You laughed and he hugged you, picking you up and spinning you around. 

You let out an involuntary squeal of surprise, and he laughed, gazing into your eyes as he set you back on the ground. “Thanks for the help.”

“I think you’ve been playing me this whole time,” you joked. 

His smile fell a little, his eyes sobering. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked. When he just stared at you, his expression unreadable, you added, “Azriel, I was joking.”

He blinked and then his natural, stoic expression was back as he took a step closer to you. “Right. I think you’re just a good teacher.”

You just looked at him, trying to decipher the changes in his mood, who he really was underneath the gruff exterior.

He smiled faintly, stepping even closer. “What are you thinking about?”

You had to crane your neck to look him in the eye now. “I'm trying to figure out what you're thinking about.”

Azriel's smile turned into a smirk. “I'm thinking… that I really want to kiss you. But I don't want to scare you away.”

Heat flooded your face and his smile turned softer as he cupped your cheek gently with a rough hand. “Would it scare you away?” He murmured.

“I -- don't know,” you said honestly.

His hazel eyes dipped to your lips and stayed there. “I think I'm gonna have to take the risk,” he said, his voice low, husky.

“I think so, too,” you breathed.

His free hand slinked around your waist, gently pulling your body into his. Your heart thundered in your chest as he leaned down, slowly bringing his lips to yours. He seemed to give you a moment to process, and you felt him smile against your mouth when you started to kiss him back, your fingers curling around his bicep, his shoulder.

You were breathless by the time he pulled away, and as the two of you drove back to the tennis courts, you couldn't help but hope that it would happen again by the end of the night.

When you parked your car near his motorcycle in the abandoned lot, he lingered, his gaze holding yours, dropping to your mouth again.

He shot you a crooked smile. “Aren't you gonna walk me to my bike?”

Rolling your eyes playfully, you got out of the car, walking over to the motorcycle and settling against the fence near it, crossing your arms over your chest. “Happy now?” You asked.

Slowly, he sauntered over to you, his eyes twinkling under the stars. He raised his arm, twining his fingers in the chain link fence above your head, leaning his body towards you, but not quite touching. He gazed down at you, still sporting that half smile. “Very happy,” he murmured.

Your breath hitched and when his smile widened, you knew he heard it. 

He held your gaze as he leaned down, bringing his mouth to yours again. You let yourself fall deeper into the kiss this time, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him into you. 

When he finally pulled away, he was grinning. “Want to go for a ride before you head home?” He said, nodding to his motorcycle.

You had stepped far enough out of your comfort zone for today. “Maybe next time.”

He raised his eyebrows in amusement. “So you're giving me a next time?”

Damn. You blushed. “I said maybe.”

“Uh huh, sure,” he said, leaning in again so his lips were barely an inch from yours. “You can't wait to see me again,” he whispered.

You shoved him away lightly and he chuckled, backing up towards his bike, but keeping his eyes on you. “Until next time, then. Have a good night, bookworm.” He winked before putting his helmet on and speeding away.

A few weeks, a few dates, and several kisses later, you couldn't deny that Azriel was on your mind quite a bit.

You had never thought that someone like him would be interested in someone like you, but he seemed to prove time and time again that he did indeed like you. He texted you flirty little things every day, making you blush in class. He asked about your day, and seemed to genuinely be listening, and he would do pretty much anything you wanted on your dates. Last week, the two of you had gone to a local bookstore and he had watched you browse, a small smile on his face. He ended up picking out a book he wanted you to read and you did the same for him. He had been sending you daily updates on his progress through the book. Slowly, you were starting to let your walls down, despite yourself.

So, when he asked you to finally go to a party with him, to meet his friends, you accepted. You still felt cautious: partying had never been something that you were remotely interested in, but you trusted him.

---

Azriel knew he had to tread this next part carefully. Things had been going well with you. He let you take control of your time together so you would be comfortable, and honestly, he was actually having a really good time getting to know you and seeing where you would take him next.

And when you kissed him… God. It was always a struggle to keep his hands on your waist, to stay PG. He wished he could explore things further with you in that regard, but he wouldn't let himself go there. Not when your broken heart was the finish line.

He rarely let himself think about it -- the deal that he had made with Claire. Being with you felt so natural that he usually forgot he was supposed to be acting. That he was supposed to be leading you to Claire’s revenge.

He had convinced you to come to a party, upon Claire's request so she could see the progress he had made with you. You had said yes, he assumed because you trusted him enough now. The thought made his stomach roll. He was really starting to hate himself for getting mixed up in this.

Azriel acted differently around you than he did around the rest of the general population. At a young age he had learned to keep quiet, to not show a single emotion on his pretty face, to be tough, or be punished. 

With you… he couldn't help but smile. Couldn't stop the laughs that he usually stomped down for the rest of the world.

So, having his two worlds collide at this party…he didn't know exactly how to navigate it. Deep down, it made his heart swell that you trusted him enough to help you navigate something so far out of your comfort zone. But if his friends saw the way he acted around you, he would never hear the end of it.

This would be a mess.

If Azriel wasn't leaning against his motorcycle when you exited your apartment building, he may have fallen over. You were wearing skintight jeans and a black tank top that showed more cleavage than he ever imagined he'd see from you. His fingers flexed on his biceps. He wanted to pull you back into your apartment and spend an hour peeling those clothes away inch by inch.

He blinked the lust away, trying to maintain his stoic expression, but failed, as he always did with you. He smiled at you and you smiled back. 

He could tell by the way you carried yourself as you neared him that you were nervous. “Hey, beautiful,” he drawled his usual greeting as you wrapped your arms around his waist in your usual greeting.

“Hi,” you said, a little sheepishly. His eyes must have lingered on your curves a little too long because your eyes widened a bit, and you bit your lip nervously as you pulled away from him. He nearly groaned. “Is it too much? Do I look stupid?”

Azriel placed his hands on your shoulders gently, dipping his head to look you in the eyes. “You look amazing. Seriously.”

You blushed and murmured, “Thank you.”

He had to turn away, to grab your helmet, so you wouldn't see how much you affected him. He fucking loved it when he made you blush like that. 

Azriel turned back to you, holding up the helmet, his eyebrows raising with amusement. “You ready to join the dark side, bookworm?”

You sighed, shifting on your feet. 

“It'll be okay,” he said softly. “I got you.”

You nodded, seeming to resolve yourself, and reached for the helmet with slightly shaking hands.

He helped you make sure it was on correctly, his fingers brushing your chin, your neck. He bit back a smile as you shivered.

Azriel held your hand as you got settled on the back of the bike, showing you where to put your feet, and how to shift your weight with him.

When you seemed at least somewhat comfortable, he slid his helmet on, smoothly setting onto the motorcycle. You wrapped your arms around his middle, pressing your chest into his back. You were already holding him like your life depended on it, and he beamed freely underneath the helmet.

“Hold on tight,” he shot back at you, before he revved the engine, taking off much more gently than he normally would.

He tried not to think about the feel of you pressed into him, how tightly you were holding on. It didn't work. He wanted to drive you everywhere.

He couldn't resist reaching back to briefly squeeze your thigh at a red light. “How are you doing?”

“Good,” you said. He couldn't be sure, but he thought he heard a smile in your voice.

Too soon in Azriel's opinion, they had made it to the party. He parked, offering you his hand to help you get down.

When he pulled the helmet off your head, he was pleased to see that you were indeed smiling.

“Have fun?” He smirked.

“I did, actually,” you said, sounding a little breathless. 

“Whenever you need a ride, you just let me know,” he winked.

You laughed, glancing behind him at the house. 

He took your hand in his, squeezing reassuringly. You seemed to relax a bit. “We can leave whenever you want, okay?”

Taking a deep breath, you nodded and smiled nervously up at him.

You were doing this for him, he realized. Because he had asked you to. His heart constricted, guilt churning in his gut again as he led you inside, your hand squeezing his tightly. 

His shoulders tightened as he led you through the crowd, making sure you were tucked in close to him. 

“You want a drink?” he asked, as you made your way to the kitchen.

“Sure,” you said.

He rifled through what was on the sticky counter, trying to find something not disgusting for you to drink, making sure you stayed close to him. 

Finally handing you a cup, he put your hand on the small of your back, guiding you to a corner of the living room that wasn’t yet very crowded. He took a seat on the couch and you settled in next to him, tucked closely into his side. 

You smiled, leaning your shoulder into his. “Is this really it?” You asked skeptically. “You just sit here and drink around a bunch of drunk idiots?”

He laughed before he could stop himself. “I mean, yeah, that’s pretty much it,” he said, dipping his head to say in your ear. “Or we could dance. Or make out,” he smiled against your ear. 

You blushed and he laughed again, kissing your temple. 

Azriel wrapped an arm around your shoulders as Cassian and Rhys showed up, grinning at you, their eyebrows raised. Azriel fought the urge to roll his eyes. They had seen him laughing with you, kissing you, he knew. He had nearly forgotten where he was, why he was here with you. He loved them, but he wasn’t sure what they would say to you about him. They didn’t know about his arrangement with Claire, and he had been keeping details about his relationship with you as vague as possible.

“So you’re the one Az has been spending all his time with,” Cassian grinned. 

You smiled sheepishly, leaning further into Azriel. “I guess.”

Azriel nodded to his friends. “This is Cassian and Rhysand. They’ve been my best friends since we were kids.”

He could tell you were intrigued by that. He still hadn’t told you anything about his childhood. 

Before you could ask any questions, Claire showed up next to Azriel’s friends, her expression the very picture of friendship. It unsettled him so much that he held you closer to him, so you were practically on his lap. 

“Hi Claire,” you smiled, and his heart sank. You really had no idea how Claire felt about you. 

Claire smiled back. “Hey. I never expected to see you here.”

“I’m trying new things,” you said, smiling lightly at Azriel.

He couldn’t take it, having you so close to Claire, seeing that trust you had in him when you looked at him. He cleared his throat, standing up and offering you his hand. You took it, smiling politely at Claire and his friends as he led you through the house, out to the backyard. 

“Is everything okay?” You asked, looking up at him curiously as he leaned his back against the side of the house.

“Yeah,” he said, unable to stop the smile that rose to his face as you gazed at him with your big doe eyes. He tugged you closer, wrapping his arms around your waist. “I just wanted you to myself for a minute.”

“Oh yeah?” you flushed, and before he could stop himself, he kissed your cheeks, feeling the heat against his lips before his lips met yours in a slow, sensual kiss.

He was still kissing you when he heard Cassian snickering close by. “Oh shit, he’s whipped.”

Azriel rolled his eyes as he pulled away from you, but kept his hold on your waist. “How am I whipped?”

Cassian’s eyes gleamed with mischief and Azriel’s heart started to pound. “Sneaking out here on your own. You’re usually content to stay on the couch to make out with your girl of the week.”

Your body tensed in his arms and Azriel groaned internally, glaring at Cassian, who smirked. “Oh, she didn’t know? My bad, Az.”

Azriel’s expression was enough to send Cassian back inside. 

Your brow furrowed as you stepped back, out of his reach. “Girl of the week?”

He winced. “He’s being dramatic.”

You raised your eyebrows, glaring at him, crossing your arms over your chest. 

It was kind of adorable, but Azriel reigned in that comment. He held up his hands in surrender. “Okay, look. I told you when we met that I go to parties and meet girls there. But things are different now,” he said, taking a step closer to you. And it was true. Things were different. You had been the one haunting his thoughts since that first date. He had barely looked at anyone else since.

After a moment, you sighed, and he knew you wouldn’t resist when he wrapped his arms back around you. 

“Cassian’s an idiot,” he murmured, his focus back on your lips that he was dying to kiss again.

“So I’m not the girl of the week?” you said quietly, your eyes on his lips now. 

He smiled. “We’ve been seeing each other for several weeks, haven’t we?”

You nodded, biting your lip, before you stood up on your tiptoes to press a quick kiss to his lips. Azriel was surprised by his own relief. “Are we going back inside?” you asked. 

“Not if you don’t want to,” he said, wrapping his arms around your waist again. 

Pursing your lips in thought, you said, “Mmm. Let’s go back in.”

“Yeah?” he said, surprised.

You smiled up at him, resting your chin on his chest. His heart melted. “I’m trying to be brave.”

He kissed your forehead, smiling faintly. “I’m proud of you, bookworm.”

You beamed, your whole face lighting up. 

Azriel led you inside, his hand on the small of your back, trying to manage the swell of emotions in his chest. He didn’t have the time to process them right now. 

The two of you mingled throughout the party for a few hours, and you even went so far as to dance with him for a bit, your body pressed against his, your hips swaying to the beat of the pounding music. He could hardly believe it, the way you let loose with him.

He stopped in the bathroom before the two of you left. He wasn’t gone for more than a few minutes, but when he returned, he spotted you near the kitchen, backing away from a guy who was clearly very drunk and very horny. Azriel saw red. 

Before he could take a second to think, Azriel was upon the bastard, punching him in the jaw. 

He heard you yelp. The asshole staggered back, swearing, his hand cradling his jaw. Azriel barely spared him a glance, his hands gently holding either side of your face, his gaze raking your body, searching for any sign that he had touched you. 

Your eyes were wide, your breathing labored, but you seemed physically fine. “Are you okay?” he asked. 

You nodded, your eyes still frantic. 

He wrapped his arm around your shoulders as he led you outside. Claire caught his eye on the way out, hers shining with delight. He scowled at her. 

When you made it outside, he hugged you to his chest. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” 

“I shouldn’t have left you alone.”

You snorted. “You were gone for a few minutes. It’s not your fault that men are gross.”

“Are you okay, really?” He asked, pulling back to look you in the eye.

“I’m okay,” you said quietly. 

He held you close to him, gazing at you for another moment before you smiled faintly. “You really didn’t need to punch him, you know.”

He winced slightly, remembering the yelp you let out when he threw that punch. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you said, rising on your tiptoes to kiss him. 

Azriel held you until his heart rate slowed down, until his body was convinced that you were okay.

Later, after he had dropped you off at your apartment, Azriel stayed awake, tossing and turning, so many images from that night racing through his mind.

The way his heart constricted every time you smiled at him, the horror he felt at seeing Claire play nice, the terror and rage that flowed through his entire body when he saw that creep bothering you…

Azriel knew then, that he had real feelings for you. Shit.

---

“C’mon, baby, you’ve been studying for ages already,” Azriel murmured, standing behind you as you sat at your desk in your apartment, his arms draped around your chest, his lips trailing down your neck.

Your toes curled, heat running right through you. You wanted to give in. You really did. But…

You sighed. “I’m sorry, Az. I have this big exam on Tuesday. And finals are only a few weeks away.”

For some reason, that comment made his entire body stiffen. “Oh, yeah. Finals.”

You snorted. “Don’t tell me you forgot about finals.”

“No, I just… they’re soon.” His voice wavered a bit as he stood up fully. You twisted in your seat to look up at him. His brow was furrowed, his eyes swimming with anxiety. 

“What’s wrong?” You asked, reaching up and cupping his cheek with your hand. “Do you need me to help you study?” He had never seemed to care about his grades before.

He leaned into your touch for a moment, shooting you a forced smile. “No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine. I should go, and let you study.” He stooped down to press a quick kiss to your lips. “I won’t distract you anymore today.” 

Before you could even respond, he was out the door. 

You turned back to your notes, but couldn’t digest any of the information. That was… weird.

Azriel and you had been dating for months now. Though neither of you had ever put a label on it, you both knew you were exclusive. 

In the privacy of your own mind, you secretly loved that he acted so differently around you than he did out and about on campus. You felt like you got a different version of him that was saved especially for you. It made your heart swell, all the little things he did for you each day. 

You were also willing to admit, to yourself only, that you were absolutely in love with him. You had known for weeks now, and had been debating whether or not you should tell him. 

He had been the one that made you step out of your comfort zone, to try new things, to be brave. 

So, soon. You would tell him soon.

--- 

Azriel had to get out of the deal. Now.

He remembered the exact moment that he realized he was in love with you. It was a random afternoon, the two of you were watching TV at his apartment. He was laying on the couch, you were laying on top of him, your legs intertwined with his, your head on his chest. He was absentmindedly running his fingers through your hair while you giggled about something that happened on the show. 

And he had the thought. I want my whole life to look like this. 

And he knew. He loved you.

This had scared him, obviously, on multiple levels. He had never loved anyone before, never knew what that looked like. Yet somehow, he knew without a doubt that it was true. 

And then, of course, there was the deal he had made with the devil. 

He had known early on that he would have to get out of the deal. He had just been putting it off, hoping that Claire’s insanity would die down throughout the semester. 

But now his time was up. 

He prayed to whoever might be listening that Claire would listen to reason. That she would call it off. He couldn’t bear the thought of hurting you. He wouldn’t do it. 

Claire smirked as she opened the door. “I’ve been wondering when you would show up. It’s been a long time, Az,” she purred. 

Azriel stalked into her apartment, barely sparing her a glance. “The deal’s off, Claire.”

She cocked her head to the side, amused. “Oh? Why is that?”

“Because it’s insane,” he growled. “You were insane for coming up with it, and I was insane for agreeing to it. I’m done.”

Slowly, her lips curled up into a lethal smile. “You fell for her.”

Azriel blinked. 

Claire cackled. “Oh, this is rich. You actually fell for the bookworm? I never thought I’d see the day. No wonder you haven’t been crawling into my bed.”

He scowled. “The deal’s off,” he repeated in the tone he used to scare people away.

She really looked at him then, her eyes bearing into his. After a moment, she finally said, “Okay.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Okay? Just like that?”

Claire shrugged. “You were right. It was an insane plan. And it didn’t even work,” she said bitterly. “You suck at your job. She’ll still be on the top of the Dean’s list, even after all your lovey-dovey shit.”

A swell of pride ran through him at the thought of your name at the top of that list.

“Alright,” he said, his brow furrowed, trying to figure out if there was some kind of angle here. But, there didn’t seem to be one. 

He left quickly, his heart and mind feeling lighter. The guilt of how the two of you started would always be there, he knew. But now when he looked into the future, it wasn’t a hazy blur of nothingness that he saw. It was you.

---

The week before finals, there were parties everywhere. So you heard. 

You had gone to a few more with Az over the past few months. It still wasn’t exactly your thing, but you didn’t mind going, especially with Azriel being so attentive to you every time you did. 

Azriel didn’t seem particularly interested in going to this one, but his friends had been complaining that they never saw him anymore, so he agreed to go. And you had agreed to go with him, if only to take a break from your near constant studying these days.

You followed him through the crowd, his hand clasping yours, as always. Drinks in hand, you made your way to the outskirts of a group of people who were dancing and you joined them, Azriel pulling you in close to him, moving against you.

A laugh burst from you, and Azriel grinned, leaning down to kiss you. 

You were so happy, you thought. So happy in that moment with him. You knew people watched you, as they usually did when Azriel was like this with you. You didn’t care.

When he pulled back from the kiss, he gazed down at you, his eyes swimming with affection. 

“I love you,” you said before you could stop it.

His eyes sobered, and he pulled you in even closer, so your bodies were flush together. He leaned his forehead against yours, and in a crowd of people, Azriel said, a soft smile on his face, “I love you, too.”

Your heart leaped and you grinned, threading your fingers in his hair and bringing his lips to yours. 

Suddenly, the music stopped, and from the TV came a voice. Azriel’s voice. 

Everyone turned to the sound, curiously, watching. The video was jumpy, filming the floor, like it was filmed from someone’s pocket. 

Azriel tensed, his arms still around you. “Fuck,” he said. “We need to go.”

Utterly confused, you didn’t argue as he pulled you through the crowd. But you stopped dead in your tracks when you heard video Azriel say, “Sweetheart, you know I can fuck you anytime I want, right? That is not going to persuade me to help you.”

Your blood ran cold, shock jolting from your heart down to your toes. Azriel was tugging on your arm, but you didn’t budge as you heard Claire’s voice next. 

Claire. He had been talking to Claire. What did he mean, that he could fuck her whenever he wanted? You hadn’t even known that they knew each other. When was this filmed?

“Baby, please, I’ll explain everything, but we need to go,” Azriel was saying, sounding frantic. 

You wrenched your arm from his grasp, weaving through the still crowd, moving toward the TV. You heard him swear, calling your name behind you, but you kept moving.

They were saying something about a deal, about him owing her a favor. You couldn’t make sense of it, not until you heard video Azriel say, “Alright, so I just have to seduce the bookworm? Easy.”

Video Claire responded, “No, if I’m going to agree to any favor you could possibly want, you’re going to have to go further. You need to make her fall in love with you.”

It was then that you noticed Claire, next to the TV, her eyes locked on you, smirking. 

You couldn’t breathe, your legs were going to give out -- 

It was all fake. All of it. 

Azriel caught up to you then, picking you up, slinging you over his shoulder. You didn’t protest, the shock setting in. You had to get out of there, even if it was him that carried you out. 

When he made it outside, you pounded on his back with your fists. “Put me down, you asshole!”

“Sorry,” Azriel said, wincing as he gently set you on your feet. “You looked like you were going to pass out.”

“Like you even care,” you spat, storming away from him. 

“Of course I care. Please, just give me a minute to explain,” he pleaded, following you. 

“Explain what?” You stopped abruptly, spinning around to face him. “That you played me for a fool? Made me fall in love with you as a sick joke? Well, congratulations, it worked,” you said, pouring every ounce of venom that you could muster into your voice. You turned back around and continued walking as tears started pricking your eyes. You refused to let him see you cry.

“It may have started out that way, but it’s not like that anymore. From the first date, I had feelings for you. I love you. You have to believe that,” he said, right on your heels. 

You knew he could catch up with you easily if he wanted to. He was hanging back, trying to give you your space. That pissed you off even more. “How could I possibly believe that?” 

“Because you feel it, I know you do,” he said, finally wrapping his fingers around your wrist.

You tugged your hand free, but stopped walking, needing to catch your breath. You faced him. “What was the point?” You asked quietly. “Why make the deal?”

It didn’t matter. But you had to know.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Claire and I used to date. When you transferred, you pushed her off the top spot of the Dean’s list. She hated you for it. She said she would give me any favor I wanted if I made you fall for me… to distract you from school.”

You were so surprised that the tears you had been holding in started to fall. You angrily swatted them away. 

Azriel continued, “I said no at first, but she was persistent, and…” he took a deep breath, darting his eyes away from you for a moment. They were shining with unshed tears. “I have no excuse. I agreed to it. I’m an asshole. But you made me want to be different.”

“Was any of it true?” You heard yourself saying, your voice breaking. 

He lifted his hand, like he was about to reach for yours, then let it drop, thinking better of it. “It was all true. From our first date, you were breaking down my walls, making me smile, making me laugh.” He smiled sadly. “I fell for you. I love you,” he said, and now a lone tear did slide down his cheek. “I called it off with Claire ages ago. I told her I was out, and she agreed. I… I didn’t know she filmed it.”

You wanted to believe him, that he really did love you. But… “Even if you do love me, that doesn’t change what you did,” you said in a small voice. 

Azriel sniffed, wiping the tears off his face. “I know. I am so, so sorry.”

Shaking your head, backing away from him, you choked out, “I don’t -- I can’t. I can’t do this right now.”

He took a step toward you, his eyes pleading. “Please. Please don’t go.”

Turning your back to him, you walked away, barely registering the pavement beneath your feet, the direction you were going. 

You knew he had followed you home, not letting you walk alone at night. You watched his form retreat after you locked yourself inside your apartment with trembling hands. 

Azriel called your name, but you kept walking.

You went to bed, not even bothering to change. Laying on your back, watching your ceiling fan spin around and around, you tried to identify all that you were feeling: shame, humiliation, sorrow. Fury. 

Replaying all that had happened between you, all the times he was probably laughing at you with his friends behind his back about you. You felt nauseous. 

How could he do this? How could he have played you for so long?

You woke up to several missed calls and texts from Azriel, all sent hours apart. It seemed that he didn’t get any sleep at all.

What the hell were you supposed to do now?

I am so sorry. I’m the worst person in the world. I know that. 

I know what you’re thinking right now. I know that you’re going over it all in your head. But, it was real, baby. It was all real. I swear it was. I love you so much.

I’m hoping you’re getting some sleep. Can I see you today?

Groaning, you tossed your phone to the side, and took a long shower. By the time you got out, someone was knocking on your door. 

You quickly dressed in some old pajamas and called through the door, “Go away, Az.”

“Well, at least you’re alive,” you heard him say. “Can I please come in? Two minutes?”

You threw the door open, furious. “No, you cannot come in. You humiliated me. You used me. You had your fun. What else could you possibly want?”

Azriel was standing on the threshold, his hands in his pockets nervously, his facial expression looked like you had just slapped him. “I want to apologize! I want to make things better, that’s what I want.”

Biting your lip to keep from crying, you said quietly, “Go away.” 

His face fell. “I love you.”

Shaking your head, you said, “You don’t.”

He took a step forward, wedging his foot on the door jam so you couldn’t close it on him. “I do,” he said, his eyes pleading, baring into yours. “You know that I do. You know I’ve never let anybody else see the real me. Nobody but you.”

Tears spilled onto your cheeks then, and he wiped them away gently. Despite everything, you couldn’t back away. “It doesn’t matter,” you croaked. “You only went out with me so you could help her ruin my life.”

Azriel opened his mouth, as if to reply, but then shut it. 

You laughed humorlessly. “See? Even you don’t have a comeback.”

His eyes softened, his rough fingers still absentmindedly stroking your cheeks. “Please,” he said again. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s not enough,” you whispered, your heart breaking all over again as you looked up at him, at the pain in his eyes.

“How do I fix it?” He whispered back, tears sliding freely down his cheeks now.

“I don’t know,” you said, stepping back out of his grasp. “Please, Az. I just -- I need to be alone right now.”

He nodded, drawing his arm across his face to wipe the tears away. “Okay. Okay, I’ll umm -- I’ll see you later?”

You didn’t know how to answer that, didn’t know if you would see him again at all. He took a step back, into the hallway. 

Especially knowing where that awful bet had originated, you refused to let Azriel and Claire get in your head for finals. You buckled down, spending entire days at the library studying, writing papers, finishing projects. 

Without another word, you shut the door.

It was helpful, actually. You didn’t allow yourself to think about him, about all the memories you had that had become so tainted and confusing. 

By the end of the semester, you had maintained all your A’s, passing every final with flying colors. And thus, secured the very top spot of the Dean’s list.

Azriel had been texting and calling every day. You left them all unanswered. 

You hadn’t yet had time to think, to process through the hurt. 

A new text chimed as you were packing up your car to head home for the summer. 

Saw the list. Nicely done, bookworm. I know it doesn’t matter, but I really am proud of you. Looks like all that hard work paid off ❤️

Despite everything, there was a swell of emotion in your chest at his words. God, why did everything have to be so awful?

Later, you were hefting your last box into your trunk when you heard the distinct sound of a motorcycle slowing down behind you. Your heart raced. You couldn’t tell if you wanted to see him again or not.

Slowly, you turned around to see Azriel sliding off the bike, his helmet tucked under his arm. “Hey, beautiful,” he said, somewhat tentatively.

“Hi,” you said softly. 

He nodded to your car, his expression grave. “You’re leaving?”

“Back home for the summer,” you said, unable to take your eyes off him. He looked tired. And sad. 

A moment passed silently, the two of you just looking at each other, pain hanging in the air between you.

“I miss you,” he said quietly. 

You sighed. Willed yourself to be brave. “I miss you, too,” you admitted. 

Something like hope gleamed in his eyes. “I love you,” he murmured. 

“I --” you started, and couldn’t bear it. “I need time.”

He looked crestfallen, like you had just punched him in the gut, but he nodded. “The summer?”

You swallowed. “Okay,” you said. “Okay. I get the summer, and I’ll find you in the fall. We’ll talk then.”

“Thank you,” he said, quietly. “Thank you for… for that. For talking to me now,” he winced. “I know I don’t deserve it.”

“No, you don’t,” you said, but there was no malice in it. You were too tired. “I get the summer, Az. Don’t contact me until school starts.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but agreed. “Okay. I’ll see you in September,” he said, backing up towards his bike. “Have a good summer, bookworm,” he added with the slightest of smiles, before he slid on his helmet and drove away.

---

You spent most of the summer moping around, reading books, and trying to sort through everything that happened, all the feelings you had. 

For three months, you sifted through every moment that Azriel and you had shared together, picking them apart, deciphering every movement. 

It may have been slightly unhealthy.

You believed that what you and Azriel had was real. You believed that he did love you. And you couldn’t deny that you loved him. That maybe you always would. 

Was it worth it to deny yourself the person who had made you so happy? Who had taught you new things, who had helped you out of your comfort zone?

As September grew closer, you still weren’t sure. 

 ---

Azriel got more and more anxious as the summer came to a close. It had been torture to not contact you at all, but he knew he was in no position to be asking you for anything, so he did as you asked. 

The hurt on your face those months ago was still a clear image in his mind that haunted his nightmares. He would never forgive himself for hurting you. 

Yet, he couldn’t stop imagining what would happen when he saw you again. Would you give him another chance? You would have to be a saint to even contemplate that. But then again, you were the best person he had ever known. If anyone would be able to forgive, it would be you.

Scowling, he stomped that shred of hope down. He couldn’t go into this having any expectations. 

Soon, he would know.

---

It was bittersweet coming back to school. Academia was where you thrived. You felt right at home in the library, stacks of papers all around you. 

And you used to feel at home with Azriel. 

You sighed at the thought. The first day of classes was tomorrow. You had told Azriel not to contact you until school started back up again, and knowing him, he would take that seriously. 

Deep down, you knew what you wanted to do. It terrified you, though. 

Sure enough, the next morning, you had a text from him:

Hey, bookworm. Hope your first day of classes goes well. 

The slightest smile spread across your lips. You knew he was probably dying to ask when he could see you, but was trying to keep it light. Leave the ball in your court.

For the first time since everything, you texted him back.

Thanks, Az. Yours, too. 

He opened it immediately. After a moment, you willed yourself to send another:

Wanna meet up at the tennis courts tonight? 

His reply came at lightning speed:

7?

Reigning in your smile, you replied:

7.

You couldn’t remember ever being this nervous as you walked to the tennis courts. There were a few people playing, so you sat underneath a tree nearby, willing your legs to stop shaking. 

Right on time, a familiar motorcycle turned into the parking lot. He spotted you immediately, striding over to you with unsure steps. 

“Hey, beautiful,” he said quietly. 

You looked up at him, your heart racing at the familiarity you felt. “Hi,” you said, and after the briefest hesitation, you patted the grass next to you. You weren’t sure you would be able to stand. 

Immediately, he plopped down across from you, his knees only inches from yours as he faced you. 

His eyes were locked on yours. “How was your summer?” he said, his voice cracking slightly. 

“Okay,” you said. “How was yours?”

“Okay,” he said quietly. 

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. “Okay, here’s the thing. I did a lot of thinking. A lot of thinking. And I do love you, Az.”

You paused, not sure how to word what you were feeling. 

“But?” Azriel said, his voice dripping with trepidation, his eyes guarded.

“But it’s going to take some time before I can trust you again.”

Azriel swallowed, his eyes never wavering from yours. 

He seemed like he was waiting for you to continue before he said anything, so you added, quietly, “I am willing to try, though. To give us another chance.”

The tautness in his body released, relief flooding his features. “Really?” he croaked, tears swimming in his eyes. 

You could only nod before he launched towards you, knocking you on your back, before he threaded his fingers through your hair, kissing you deeply. 

You laughed, as his other hand came up to cup your face. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, I swear I will spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you,” he said against your lips.

Wrapping your arms around him, you sighed into his kiss. “I know, Az. I know.”

“I love you,” he murmured, moving to kiss down your neck.

“I love you, too.”

“I missed you so much,” he groaned before kissing your lips again.

You giggled. “I missed you, too.”

He finally stopped kissing you, settling his elbows on either side of your head, leaning his forehead against yours. “Thank you. For giving me another chance.”

Smiling, you kissed him swiftly on the lips. “Don’t mess it up.”

“I won’t. I swear I won’t.”

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon in each other’s arms, going over your respective summers. 

Eventually, Azriel propped himself on an elbow, gazing at you with all the love in the world.

“What?” you asked. 

He grinned. “You wanna go mini golfing, bookworm?”

You couldn’t help but return his smile. “Only if I can help you again.”

Azriel leaned down to gently kiss your forehead. “It’s a deal.”

@thalia-as-blog @saltedcoffeescotch

[destieltropecollection]

Destiel Trope Collection 2024 | Day 5: Touch-Starved

A Gentleman and A Scholar | @Taymarpigeon Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,963 Main Tags/Warnings: Human Castiel (Supernatural), Human Dean Winchester, Alternate Universe, Soft Castiel/Dean Winchester, Needy Dean Winchester, Dom/sub Undertones, Silver Fox Castiel, References to childhood trauma, References to past abuse, Praise Kink, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Fluff and Smut, Comfort Sex, Comfort No Hurt, Touch-Starved Dean Winchester, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Age Difference, bottom Dean Winchester/top Castiel Summary: As you approach your fifties you expect life to slow down, worries and concerns ebbing as you set out on the next stage of your life. Not for Castiel though. Oh he's settled down for sure, married to a hot twenty-seven-year-old that certainly keeps him young at heart, financially stable and well-respected amongst his peers. However, his husband led a turbulent life before Castiel rescued him, the scars of it showing through in private moments and snowy days. When it comes to Dean Winchester there is nothing Castiel won't do, no thought of flight when it's Dean he's being called to fight for. Not that violence is on the cards today, no. Today Dean doesn't need Castiel to be his knight in shining armour, he needs him to be his lover, his attentive, affectionate, softly dommy husband that enjoys nothing better than having Dean curled up in his lap. Castiel would argue this is how anyone should hope to spend their life, regardless of age.

The Liminal Moment | @blessyourhondahurley Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,552 Main Tags/Warnings: alternate universe, massage, meet-cute Summary: After he throws out his back, Dean gets sent to a mysterious location...

An Angel Is Passing By | @melancholictearz Rating: General Word Count: 3,412 Main Tags/Warnings: AU - Castiel Meets Faith!Dean, Selectively Mute Dean, Deaf Castiel, Guardian Angel Castiel, Comfort, No Angst, Sign Language, Holding Hands, Cuddle for Warmth, Fluff Summary: SILENCE WAS HIS WORLD. THEN CASTIEL REVEALED A NEW ONE. In French, "an angel is passing by" is the literal translation of a saying used as silence sets in after a conversation. The kind of awkward seconds hanging in the air whenever someone speaks to Dean and the words won’t come out of his throat despite how much he wants to be heard. Meeting the angel Castiel doesn’t give him much more faith nor resolve the curse of his mutism either. But for an entire night, locked in a church and on the edge of death, Castiel’s tender eyes make Dean feel like he is listened to. Between them, the world goes quiet in a way Dean never experienced.

The First Language We Speak | @blessyourhondahurley Rating: General Word Count: 4,955 Main Tags/Warnings: alternate universe, autistic castiel, massage, touch-starved castiel, fluff, cheeseburgers Summary: A news article about the importance of touch leads Castiel to realize some uncomfortable things about himself and his life. These realizations lead him to Dean, a masseur, who becomes his friend and then more.

One Light In One Room | @notastupidbird Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6,926 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Post-Season/Series 05, Post-Episode: s05e22 Swan Song (Supernatural), Fallen Angel Castiel (Supernatural), Touch-Starved Castiel (Supernatural), Touch-Starved Dean Winchester, First Kiss, First Time, Anal Sex, Coming Untouched, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Porn with Feelings, Angst with a Happy Ending, Sleep Deprivation, Insomnia, Pining, POV Castiel (Supernatural) Summary: After losing his brother in the showdown at Stull Cemetery, Dean has gone into self-imposed exile. He's plagued by insomnia, and the only way he seems to get any sleep at all is when Castiel puts him out with a single touch. When this still doesn't prove enough to bring Dean any real relief from his grief and sleeplessness, Castiel wonders if what Dean really needs is another type of comfort altogether.

Asterism of an F-Series Ford Pick Up | @disabled-dean Rating: Mature Word Count: 17,408 Main Tags/Warnings: Road trip, case fic, ambiguously set in season 12, ptsd, recovery, hell trauma, unresolved sexual tension, unresolved romantic tension, touch starved Dean Winchester, touch adverse Dean Winchester, Cas drives his truck for a case and Dean is incredibly horny about it, only one truck bed, stargazing, sex dreams, nightmares, mild body horror, implied top!castiel, implied bottom!dean winchester, the truck is a metaphor, Dear God Is The Truck A Metaphor Summary: When you've been to hell, desire is isolating and ugly. Or: Cas drives his truck for a case and Dean is exceptionally horny about it. “Once on a hunt when he was a teenager, Dean had been caught too close to an explosive when it had gone off. There had been the moment when the projectile hit, and the moment when it had detonated. And just before it had, there had also been a moment when he had believed that maybe it wouldn’t. He had thought about that moment for years, over and over again, until something else had taken its place. And the way that that moment was quiet, the way it was still- that is how this feels. To lie beside Cas in the bed of his truck, their shoulders barely touching.”

Profound Kisses | @verobatto Rating: Explicit Word Count: 20,729 Main Tags/Warnings: Pining, slow burn, top!Dean/bottom!Castiel, firsts, Destiel kisses, canonverse Summary: Dean knows he's screwed. He discovers he is in love with Castiel in Purgatory, and now he can't even have the angel in front of him, because he knows it's a one sided love. It’s Valentine's day and Dean tries very hard to hook up as always, but he can't get Cas out of his mind. So he drives back to the motel, drunk, and he finds Castiel trying to help him. Then, when Dean asks Castiel for some experimental kisses and the angel accepts, Dean starts a very dangerous game… finding in Castiel's kisses the most delicious experiences, but also, his own perdition. Will Castiel fall in love with him? Or will he stay emotionless as always?

[destiel-wings]

Dean Winchester & hug dynamic analysis

I was thinking about how whenever Dean hugs someone he's almost always the one hugging the other and how this links to his psychological trauma of always being the caretaker of people, making himself bigger to protect them.

Because that's how Dean sees himself, as a shield for others, and then I thought about how Cas actually is the shield, and he's HIS SHIELD, specifically, the only one who's really there to protect HIM, which is why it hits so much when we see this:

The way Cas wraps his arms around him, trying to protect him with his whole body--that he'd use as a shield and give up in a second if he could spare him from any pain and save him.

(for context: Dean was about to go use the soul bomb on Amara there, it was a suicide mission)

Bobby is another one that hits, he hugs him as the big hugger because he's his father, he loves him and he's actually here to protect him (and Dean LETS him -barely, but he lets him *and Cas* - in a way that he doesn't let Sam)

I watched a compilation of Sam & Dean hugs to check if i was right about it, but it's almost always Dean the big hugger with Sam, except when he's about to die or Sam sees him alive again after losing him.

Even then, Dean mostly tries to hug Sam as the big hugger anyway, with at least one arm, like a way to comfort him, making him feel protected, like his body language is saying "I'm here, I'm okay, I'm still strong, i can still protect you" (because their real father failed and Dean thinks it's his job).

He rarely lets himself be the little one hugged with Sam, unless he's barely conscious. Which is why it kills me so much more now that in this moment (s14, when Dean was going to lock himself in the Ma'lak box cause he was possessed by Michael) and Sam has a desperate breakdown and punches him (to stop him) he forcefully hugs him as the little hugger, the way Dean always kept him, like a way of saying "I still need you to protect me, please don't do this to yourself".

In the scene below he gives Sam his blessing to do a dangerous (possibly suicidal) mission, and one of his arms is down, but the other one tries to stay up--he's forcing himself to do it and he struggles because he still wants to protect him, but (as the seasons progress) he slowly becomes more prone to let go.

So in this view the hug dynamic becomes an indicator of how Dean sees Sam (and himself) and his protector role, how adult and self sufficient he considers Sam, and how much he lets people around him take care of him, lowering his walls and letting himself be hugged.

This is also why i think hugs from characters like Garth or Charlie are so special, because they're just like us: they see Dean and they just know that he needs to be hugged a lot, and that he's not used to it, so they just go for it-- and it's so normal and kind and spontaneous that Dean's just not used to it-- he doesn't know how to respond (especially with Garth, at the beginning, but as the seasons progress, he learns to, and he even initiates the hug eventually).

I love the hugs where they're 50/50 (one arm up, one arm down both), feels like they're equals, both taking care of each other. I feel like with Sam and Dean, this indicates a healthier dynamic, because Dean lets go a little of the role that was imposed to him and manages to see Sam as the strong individual that he is. But the same applies to 50/50 hugs with other characters, like with Cas, where I feel like it testifies how equals they feel in terms of being fighters, there's a show of respect of each other's strength that transpires by the gesture (which is even more astounding considering that Cas is literally a powerful angel).

And just to end on a destiel note, I'd like to note the possessiveness and protectiveness of Dean (rightfully so) whenever he finds Cas after he thought he had lost him, and how that translates into his body/hug language:

[wongyuuu]

Willow | 01

pairing: seungcheol x fem!reader genre: angst, marriage of convenience word count: 8.3k summary: seungcheol always knew that he was going to marry you, but things only get harder once he does (or in which seungcheol is just really dumb and doesn't know how to show his feelings)

part one | part two | part three (final) | drabble

You looked at yourself in the mirror and you looked pretty. Many people had worked hard to make you look like that, and at the end of the day, they had succeeded. The only problem was that you didn't feel beautiful. On any other day, you would have loved the attention and would have enjoyed the feeling of getting your body so meticulously cared for. But that wasn’t one of those days. Not when the choices of you ever doing what you wanted again were so slim.

The idea that now you had to report your every move to someone pained you as much as it angered you. Of course that you weren't angry at him; just like you, Seungcheol had little to no choice in the matter. 

It was just that much worse that the person you were supposed to be with was Seungcheol. You had known him for most of your life, went to the same schools, had the same circle of friends up until high school. The problem was that you never saw eye to eye in situations, whether it was something as simple as deciding where to go after class or more pressing matters — like wanting or not to be part of your family's business. 

To your surprise, Seungcheol wanted it. You had always seen him as the one who would break away from the family, who would drift away from expectations and be whatever he wanted to be. But such a thing never happened.

The last time you saw Seungcheol was during your high school graduation. As thought back to that day, it was easy to notice just how much he had changed. As your final year approached, you slowly drifted apart, and it was during that time that you realized that Seungcheol was your future, and he probably knew that you were his as well. 

You expected him to go around talking to everyone, being his usual talkative self but none of that ever happened. That was probably the first time you saw Seungcheol with a frown on his face, hands deeps inside his pockets, as he looked at everyone else without a word. Almost as if he was studying the people around him. 

Looking at him, you felt like he was saying goodbye, finally realizing the inevitable future that lay ahead of him. You felt an uncertain need to go to him. You felt everything he seemed to be feeling, you were just better at hiding it. When you took a step to get closer to him, Seungcheol looked at you. It was easy to figure out that he didn't want you to come closer to him, so instead to do what you thought that you should, you walked away.

Throughout the four years of college, there was radio silence on his end. Although both of you attended the same university, your majors were entirely different — his was law and yours was music — and so you never crossed paths. 

If you were being honest, you expected him to be popular, to always be the center of attention among his classmates and with girls but none of that ever happened. The only certain way to get any kind of information about him was when you called your parents not that you asked but Seungcheol is doing fine, top of his class, your mom used to tell you.

You always laughed at the notion. The Seungcheol you knew, that loud boy with a cheerful attitude, was average, at most, when it came to studies. The mere idea of him being the best in his class was laughable. Or at least it was until graduation.

As you had expected, your parents made you go. You sat far in the back, as away from the graduates as you possibly could. All of it was truly boring until you saw Seungcheol go up to the stage Top of his class since the first semester. You couldn't really believe it but you also couldn't doubt the dean’s words.

You sat there in complete silence, watching Seungcheol give the most boring and uninspiring speech someone could ever give. He didn't try to say nice things, like most people would have, far from that actually. If you knew Seungcheol well, and at some point, you did know him, his speech was a loud screw all of you, but that was hidden behind a nice mask and carefully chosen words.

That was five years before. 

The next time you met was on your wedding day. There were no meetings, encounters, or dates. Emails were never sent and phone calls never happened. Neither one of you had a solid story to tell about your sudden marriage, or at least you didn't.

“y/n?” 

You finally turned away from the full-length mirror when you heard your dad's voice. Despite the situation, you found yourself smiling at him.

All through your life, your dad let you off easily. Where your mom would try to hold you back with a firm hand, your dad would loosen the leash a little. Your dad had always been more concerned about the things that you wanted to do, instead of the things that he and your mother expected you to do. When you told him that you wanted to study music rather than become an accountant like him, all he said was as long as you're happy. 

You weren't happy, far from it, but in what world could you say no to your dad? Even to your mom, with who you didn't have a good relationship with, you could never say no to her. You knew that even though she was cold, she loved you in her own way.

“How are you?”

Your sigh was more than enough for your dad. You weren't good, fine, or even okay. You were living the moment, even if you thought that the moment was terrible.

“You already know, Dad”

He nodded at you at the same time that his hand reached for your shoulders.

“I know that it may seem like the end of the world now but I assure you that it isn't. Marrying Seungcheol is my way of making sure that you'll always be cared for, and that you'll have someone to rely on when things get hard. Your mom and I married the same way, you know, and we love each other. It didn't start in the way you see in movies or read about, it wasn't passionate from the get-go. We had to build our love, nurture it and cherish it every day. Trust Seungcheol to be there for you just as I know that you'll be there for him”

Trust Seungcheol. 

Easier said than done.

Seungcheol indeed have a cover-up story. 

We've known each other almost since we were born. In my senior year at university, we went to a family gathering and it all started from there.

It was simple, so simple that no one really had the nerve to question it, though you were sure that a lot of people wanted to. Especially your friends and some of his too — or maybe they were all coworkers, it was hard to tell.

Your friends looked at you as if you were insane for getting married so suddenly, without ever even mentioning Seungcheol. Yeda just did her best to hide her surprise behind a smile, saying, now I know where you went every weekend. Upon hearing those words, Seungcheol's fingers got heavier on your lower back, and his body tensed up, but he didn't say a word.

Contrary to what you expected, pretending to be happy had been easy. It seemed like the feeling was mutual for Seungcheol, judging by the smile on his face. You couldn't expect something different from him, the man was a lawyer — a very good one — who did a fine job of charming his way around. Clients loved him, judges loved him, and even other lawyers couldn't help but also be charmed by Seungcheol.

“Cheol!”

From the other side of the room, someone shouted for Seungcheol. The two of you turned around to look at where it came from. 

“Seokmin” Seungcheol sighed. 

He should have guessed that if someone was going to make a fuss at his wedding, it would probably be Lee Seokmin. 

“I had no idea you even had a girlfriend, so imagine my surprise when I got your wedding invitation”

Inviting him was an idea that Seungcheol was already beginning to regret. Seokmin was a rookie lawyer, just starting but with great instincts. It wasn't usual for his firm to hire someone fresh out of college but the moment he laid eyes on Seokmin, he knew that the kid wasn't just another law student who thought he knew it all. Seokmin actually knew much more than he led on, was smarted than most rookies they ever hired.

“We have been rather… private about our relationship,” you said.

Seokmin’s eyes move at you, and he reached a hand to shake yours.

“I wouldn't want a man who’s more handsome than me around my incredibly beautiful girlfriend. Wife, sorry. Still processing what happened today”

You had to press your lips together to hide a smile. Seokmin reminded you of a younger Seungcheol, though that was something you would never say out loud.

“Remind me again why I even invited you” Seungcheol said between his teeth.

Seokmin put his hands in his pockets, an easy smile on his face as he rocked on his heels.

“Because, even though you shouldn't have favorites, I'm yours” Seokmin looked back at you again and winked “I'm his favorite of all the rookie lawyers”

This time you couldn't control your smile. At your side, Seungcheol grunted something in disagreement and silently shot daggers at Seokmin. You pulled Seungcheol's hand from on back and tugged at it, pulling him forward.

“Will you excuse us, Seokmin? We still have to talk to our parents”

You pulled Seungcheol away, more for him than for yourself. While you seemed to be enjoying the quick conversation with Seokmin, your husband looked as uncomfortable as someone could possibly be. 

“Are you not friends with him?” you asked quietly.

Seungcheol didn't answer you for several seconds, so you turned to look at him. The way he looked at you almost made you want to take a step back and away from him but you knew that you shouldn't. But Seungcheol didn't let you. His eyes were hot on your skin, as if with one simple look he could make your skin catch fire. He pulled you closer to his body. 

“Let's not pretend, okay? We may be married but we are not close nor friends, we are merely acquaintances who were forced to get married”

From the outside, whoever looked at your thought that you were a young couple in love, but that couldn't be further from the truth. His smile hid well the true meaning of his words, and the proximity of his body showed everyone that he wanted to be close to you when the truth was that he wanted anything in the world but that.

You leaned up in his embrace, your arm around his shoulder and your lips dangerously close to his ear. He could feel the hair against his cheeks, as you pushed on your tiptoes even further to reach him.

“Pretend is what we have to do best from now on, husband"

For the first time in his life, Seungcheol didn't understand your behavior. For the first time, he didn't have you completely figured out. 

Before, he always knew your next move, and Seungcheol took pleasure and fighting his way against it. He loved seeing you get angry and thought that it was funny how your cheeks seemed to be on fire. But looking at you in that moment felt different. Your cheeks no longer got hot, your fists weren't balled at your sides and you sure didn't look like you wanted to murder him.

The biggest surprise came when you didn't move away from him completely, and instead, your arm slid down his back and wrapped around his waist. Maybe you were better at putting on a show than he expected

“Seungcheol, y/n"

You turned around and smiled back at Seungcheol's parents.  They were responsible for this marriage just as much as yours were to blame but that didn't mean that you would be disrespectful towards them. Even if lashing out at them was exactly what you wanted to do.

“Mom, Dad,” Seungcheol said.

Walking up to the two of you, behind Seungcheol’s parents, were your own parents. Your dad seemed relieved to see you two get closer, though he knew that much of it was just for show. But a slow and fake start was better than nothing at all. And your mom was smiling at you. 

She was sure that you would eventually lean on Seungcheol, that you would let yourself fall for him but she never expected for it to happen so fast. She thought that knowing him since childhood would be a big factor in making things easier for you — if you allowed things to move forward between you and Seungcheol. 

Since the day they told you about the marriage, you pulled away from your parents, and from what they could tell you also pulled away from your friendship with Seungcheol. Your mother hoped that while you were in college you would find your way to him, find a way to love him. Seeing the smile on your face while Seungcheol, now your husband, was so close to you made her happier than she could have anticipated.

She knew that you thought that she didn't love you or, at the very least, that she had a very odd way of showing it. But that couldn't be further away from the truth.

“I'm glad to see you're getting along fine"

A smile spread through your face, and you visibly squeezed Seungcheol's waist. 

“We'll find our own pace, so you don't have to worry" 

The smile on your lips surprised Seungcheol yet again. The version of you standing in front of him in that very moment was so much different from the person he knew when he was a teenager.

You were never one to mask your feelings. Whatever you felt was on full display for everyone to see, and you seemed to care very little about what people thought of you. The only person who seemed to be able to say anything about you without you wanting to bite their head off was your brother. 

Seungcheol put his arm around your shoulder, pulling you against his side.

“We ignored each other for years and worried you guys, but now we’re together in this. Like y/n said, we’ll find our own pace” 

The wedding lasted longer than either of you could have predicted. You were told that you would be able to leave around midnight, but it was way past three when people started to get ready to leave. Both Seungcheol and you could no longer take it. It was hard to sit by his side, hold his hand and pretend that everything was completely fine.

The worst part was probably when they took you outside to get the couple's pictures. The photographer was only doing his job, you knew that, but that didn't mean that you enjoyed the entire situation.

“Can you guys kiss?” he asked.

You felt uncomfortable enough already as it was, with Seungcheol behind you, his arm around your waist, his cheek lightly pressing against the side of your head, as both of you smiled happily to the camera. Kissing him would just intensify the discomfort, cementing the reality that you would never be able to walk away. 

“Is that really necessary?” Seungcheol asked.

It wouldn't be the first time you kissed. Although you didn’t kiss him when the judge pronounced you officially married, after giving a beautiful speech about love and wishing you both a life filled with happiness and good memories,  Seungcheol had been your first kiss.

When you were sixteen all of your friends, including Seungcheol, thought that it was a good idea to play spin the bottle. You were all young and somewhat foolish at the time, and the game seemed like something teenagers did while drinking. You had managed to successfully dodge any questions that could lead to someone finding out about your lack of physical contact with the opposite sex, lying through your teeth. While you were almost scared, Seungcheol was having the time of his life. Not even once did he choose truth; he always wanted a dare.  

He always did things like that back then. While you were shy and tended to keep more to yourself and your small group of friends, Seungcheol was outgoing. When you were quiet he made sure to be extra loud. So if you chose truth he had to choose dare. 

Up until then, the dares had been minor, eat a package of chips in under one minute, drink two cans of soda without burping. Most dares were simple but not when Mila was the one giving out the dare.

You knew the moment the bottle landed on Seungcheol that his dare was going involve you, and he knew it too. It was in the look he gave you, like he was half apologizing and half saying screw you.

“Kiss y/n”

Most of the kids cheered you on, while others, mostly your friends, gasped. Everyone knew that you and Seungcheol didn't have the best relationship, that you were nearly at each other's throats whenever you were around but not Mila. She always said that you two were just faking it, and that most of your fights seemed staged to get attention from people.

What you could possibly get from that was something you were still trying to find out.

“Can’t you give me something more stupid? Like running naked outside?”

“Trust me, that'll happen. For now, I just want you to kiss her" 

Seungcheol looked at you and you blinked at him, pressing your lips together, it was your way of telling him that he could do it. You knew that if either of you said no, things would just escalate for the worse. Mila would never leave either of you alone and for the rest of the night, neither would your friends.

“Fine but I'm not kissing her with you all breathing down my neck”

He got out of his seat and pulled you up by the hand. He lead you to the kitchen and made you stand by the refrigerator.  Most of your body was hidden and your friends could only see half of Seungcheol's. 

You half expected him to not kiss you at all, or even make a whole show of pretending to kiss you. He did neither. If anything his actions surprised you.

Seungcheol ran his index finger across your forehead and down your cheek until his hand reached the back of your neck. He had a hint of a smile on his lips, lips which you couldn't stop looking at.

“Do I make you nervous, y/n?”

The answer was on your lips to be spoken but you never got the chance. Seungcheol pressed his lips on top of yours, lightly at first until he lost his patience and calmness and pressed harder. His entire body was against yours. 

You were young and Seungcheol was the first boy you ever kissed so you didn't have any experience, but he made you feel like you knew exactly what you were doing. It lasted only a minute but it made you dizzy, made you want to pull him closer to you and stay there. But the moment his lips pulled back, he was gone, away from your side and the party altogether.

After that, you both started to avoid each other to some extent. Your eyes would automatically try to look for him but he was never around again. You were glad for his absence. Kissing Seungcheol evoked feeling within you that you had no idea could even exist but at the same time, you disliked the idea that he was one doing it.

“Make sure you get this in camera because we're not doing it again”

You turned around so that you were facing him, your arms going around his waist. He was warm, so warm you almost to the point you wanted to hug him entirely. Having him so close to you again made you feel like you were that sixteen-year-old girl yet again, hiding behind the fridge, wondering what he was thinking. It was like a part of you that had been dormant for years was finally awake.

The thought made you take an instinctive step back. You didn't manage to go very far though. 

The second your body was no longer in contact with his, Seungcheol pulled you against him. His actions mirrored exactly what happened when you were a teenage girl, his fingers went down your cheeks until they reached your neck. You closed your eyes, anticipating the light pressure of his lips on top of yours but it never came. Instead of kissing your lips, Seungcheol kissed your forehead.

You couldn't help but feel disappointed.

Your mother had a master plan to make sure that you and Seungcheol would be together no matter what.

While the preparations for your wedding were being made, you took no part in it. Why should you when you were being forced into a relationship you didn't want to be part of? But once you walked inside the apartment you would have to share with Seungcheol, you regretted that decision. 

You should have made some decisions, especially when it came to housing arrangements.  Your mother, probably Seungcheol's too, decided to only furnish one bedroom. No, scratch that. You were moving in with Seungcheol and he had a fully furnished spare bedroom, or at least he did until both your mothers decided that you didn't need it.

“You can have the bedroom if you want," he said quietly.

His words surprised you. Seungcheol was never the kind of person to be nice for no reason, especially to you, so his sudden rush of kindness was something new. You weren't too sure if you liked it or how you should take it. 

“No, thank you” you shook your head “It's probably gross in there. The couch is fine”

Instead of a smart comeback, Seungcheol was in silence, just looking at you. You expected him to say something nasty, at the very least have him tell you fuck you but he did neither of those things. Seungcheol just sighed and turned around.

You sat on the couch, wedding dress still in place, looking at your new life. That was it. An apartment too big for just two people — much less one — and a husband you had a hard time being around. 

For most of your life, you had been a romantic, always expecting the love of your life to show up. Even after your parents told you about your inevitable marriage with Seungcheol, you still thought that you could make it. 

Being a silly teenage girl, you thought that if you found someone, someone who was really worth it, someone you could love freely without a single doubt, you could walk away from everything like your brother did. But you never, not even once, met someone like that. It's true that you always had your guard up. Why would you get involved with someone just to have your heart broken at the end of the line? It wasn't worth the trouble. However, no one ever made you even question your parents.

Seungcheol walked back into the living room a couple of minutes later with blankets and pillows in his hands, he sat them on the couch without looking at you. 

“You can use this until you find yourself a bed" he cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck “They're not dirty, so don't worry about that”

That side of him, one that seemed unsure and maybe even a little bit shy was new to you. The Seungcheol you remembered, even the one who showed himself at the wedding, seemed completely in control of things but the one in front of you didn't look like it. Looking at Seungcheol you saw the boy his parents often mentioned while out for dinner with yours, he seemed shy.

“Thank you,” you said with a nod “Goodnight, Seungcheol"

By Monday morning everything went back to how you knew it. Seungcheol was back to being a jerk after you avoided each other for the rest of the weekend, and you were back to ignoring him. 

At night, you found him working in his office, he had glasses on and bit the end of a pen while reading a document in front of him, his eyebrows furrowed in concentration. 

“Since when do you wear glasses?”

You didn't dare to walk inside, so you stopped at the door. You were afraid that he would bite your head off if you did walk in.

“I hope you are well aware of the fact that we won't go on a honeymoon" 

The way in which Seungcheol said those words almost made you take a step back. His voice was filled with spite and something that you could only describe as hatred. It was true that you and he had never seen eye to eye on things, that you always enjoyed battling a little but it was never like that. Never before have you thought that Seungcheol could really hate you.

“I never thought that we would,” you said quietly.

You couldn’t help but wonder where that version of him, from those few minutes in the living room, had gone. 

“That's good. You can go now, I'm busy”

He said all of that without even sparing you a glance. You never thought that you would be hurt by some of his actions but there you were, walking away from his office as if he had just kicked you in the ribs.

Avoiding Seungcheol was surprisingly easy, even though you both lived in the same house and you were currently out of a bedroom. Even though the spare bedroom still didn’t have a bed or a chair, you spent most of your days inside it reading or on your phone. Seungcheol was either inside his office or went to the firm.

The hard part was explaining to Yeda why you didn't go on a honeymoon — something that is expected of newlyweds. You walked in circles for minutes, trying to come up with a reason that was good enough, and in the end, you had none. Nothing came to mind. Sure, you could have asked Seungcheol what he was going to say to his friends and coworkers, if he was even going to say anything at all, so your stories could match up but you didn't dare to approach him after the way he talked to you. 

“Come on, be honest. I've known you long enough to know when you’re lying. Your whole ‘Seungcheol is busy at work’ crap won't work. Also, you don't look half as happy as someone who just got married is supposed to. In fact, you look a little depressed”

You weren't supposed to tell anyone, you were supposed to keep quiet and live your life by Seungcheol's side without anyone ever finding out the truth about your marriage. The two of you got married out of convenience for both sides of the family, sides that never once consulted your wishes and desires. But the words came out of your mouth before you could stop them, before you could think about what you were doing.

You talked for a long time, all while Yeda listened to you quietly.  She didn't try to stop you nor she asked questions while you were speaking. All she did was sit there in silence, sipping her coffee quietly while you talked like a radio that never stopped broadcasting.

“So you're saying that you got married to someone you don't love because it’s some sort of tradition in your family?”

It sounded stupid when it was put like that, but it was the truth. When your parents told you about your future wedding with Seungcheol your dad gave you a way out. He said that if you agreed to take over the company, if you went to college and studied to be an accountant just like him, then you were free to marry whoever you wanted — as long as the company was taken care of. 

For a tiny second, you thought about it. You could not work as a music teacher, you could work as anything else. Lots of people don't have their dream job, they don't work as something that they want but still manage to find happiness.  If other people could do it, then you surely could too. One look at your mother was enough to tell you that either way you would marry Seungcheol, though — even if you gave up everything and did as your dad wished.

“It's more complicated than that” you sighed.

When it came to you and your family, nothing was as easy as it seemed.

“You, my friend, are in some next-level shit"

When Seungcheol saw you walk inside the wedding venue, he was mesmerized. To him, you were always the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, even when you were angry at him for whatever crap he said again. But that day was incomparable. Was that how other people usually felt when seeing their bride walk down the aisle?

Seungcheol learned that he was going to be marrying you when he was only fifteen and you had just turned fourteen. He didn't know what it was supposed to mean, what the implications of him getting married would be. He only knew that he would never have to go through endless dates until he found the one that was meant to be with him.

In a way that made Seungcheol happy. How could it not? His parents were making his life easy, he thought. And then he met you, not the you your parents wanted the world to see but the real you. And he was so surprised to see that you were nothing like he had expected. 

Seungcheol knew your brother from school so he thought that you were going to be somehow similar to him. Oh, just how wrong he was. Your brother was quiet, moved through the motions without a care in the world and he seemed to be happy while doing it. And sure, you had that whole aura about you as well but the second your parents were out of sight, or once you found yourself in a comfortable environment you changed completely.

When only your friends were around, you were something else entirely, someone who Seungcheol liked to see. You became loud and cheerful, your laugh loud enough that people around your group of friends would turn around to see just who could be that loud. 

But Seungcheol couldn't get too close, he knew that he shouldn't. You were younger than him and still looked at him fondly, which meant that you had no idea about both of your parent's plans. And he had been warned off by your brother, who knew about his parents' plans.

When he left for college, he couldn't stay away for too long. Even when he didn't have to, even when he shouldn't because he had too much to do, he still found time to go back home. He stayed in between high school kids because it was the only way he would ever see you. If he went home and his parents went over to your house for a gathering, you always found a way, or better said an excuse, to do something else.

By the time you started college, Seungcheol saw the change in you. He knew that you were well aware of the fact that yes, you would be marrying him, but you chose to stay away so he decided that he too shouldn't care. But he couldn't bring himself to do that either.  

He kept an eye out for you, silently taking care of you without you ever knowing.  He never did anything unless he thought that things could get out of hand and you never really got into problems that you couldn't take care of yourself. You were quiet and never went out much and if you ever did was just to make sure your friends wouldn't drink and drive. 

He always remembered special dates, your birthday being the utmost important one of them all. Seungcheol would always leave a present at your door. The first time he did it was in your last year of high school. He didn't know what he should get you, had no idea of what you liked so he just got you the biggest teddy bear he could possibly find. It was funny to see your face when you opened the door to a white bear with the words take me, y/n on it’s front.

Not even after college was over, and the two of you were moving on your separate ways Seungcheol stopped. When he ran out of ideas he sent you flowers, more flowers than what you knew what to do with — more flowers than your tiny apartment could ever comport.

As the date of your wedding approached Seungcheol saw himself grow anxious and uncertain. He didn't know just how aware of things you were, if you had planned anything at all and what would be your reaction for what was yet to come. Imagine his surprise when he found out that you had no idea of what was going on, that you went to the venue without knowing what your dress looked like.

The look on your face told Seungcheol everything that he needed to know, you were sad. The amount of sadness, of hurt, there was in your eyes made Seungcheol want to take your hand and just take you from there. You looked beautiful and your smile was marvelous, making people who didn't know you that much, or just didn’t care, think that you were happy. But he knew better. Seungcheol knew you.

He intended to make it better, try to make it as bearable as he possibly could but he didn't do that. No, far from that. Seungcheol was a complete idiot, the biggest one he knew. The moment you tried to say something, the first thing you said to him out of your own will after years, his first instinct was to push you away. It was what he did for years.

The only way to get some kind of reaction from you was to push your buttons the right way, and the only way Seungcheol could do that was by picking on you. It was stupid, so incredibly childish, the worst possible way he could ever use to try and get closer to you. Seungcheol knew all of that but it was also the only thing he could do. The old him, the one who was too young to understand the magnitude of what getting married meant, used to think that the only way to get your attention was by being a complete idiot to you. Even now, when he knew for a fact that being mean would get him nowhere, Seungcheol didn’t know to act differently.  Because even years later, when both of you were no longer the two kids you once were, the only to get you to even look at him was by being rude. “I have no idea what you’re talking about” Seungcheol knew that he would get nowhere by lying to Seokmin, his friend was far too good at knowing when the people around him were lying. “You can correct me if I’m wrong, but shouldn’t you be, at the very least, at home with your wife?” Rolling his eyes at his friend, Seungcheol sat back down on his chair and pretended to be looking at the files on his desk. His mind was anywhere but at his work. No, correct that. His mind was on you rather than on his work. He kept thinking that, despite his apparent lack of interest, you still told him where you were going and what you were doing. It's true that he did ask you if you needed a ride for work because Seungcheol knew that you hated driving, but you still made a point of letting him know. “I was given days off since I just got married,” you said to him.

In the quietness of his office, Seungcheol felt guilty. He should be at home with you, trying to figure things out, trying to come to an agreement on your relationship. Your marriage didn’t start the way you’d expect, and it certainly wasn’t the kind of marriage that starts simply out of love. Your relationship, if you could even call it that, wasn't anything like either of you had ever experienced. But the truth is that the two of you needed to find some common ground, needed for things to be clear, and boundaries needed to be created.

“You’re such a terrible liar. It’s a wonder how you are still a lawyer”

Trust Seokmin to be completely blunt and tell Seungcheol off the first chance he got. That was one of the many reasons why Seungcheol chose Seokmin as his right-hand. Despite the age difference, how he was the one who would one day run the office and was clearly above him in the hierarchy ladder, Seokmin was the kind of person he could trust. 

Seungcheol trusted him enough to tell him the truth about his marriage, about how he has been pinning over his wife since he was a teenager — granted that he slightly when he told Seokmin all of that, but he was only able to say those things because he trusted him that much.

“I regret hiring you every time you open your mouth” Seungcheol sighed.

“You would never fire me though. I’m your favorite, everyone here knows that”

Seungcheol sighed and looked up at Seokmin, his attention momentarily away from the case files.

“Do you have something to say? I have work to do, in case you haven’t noticed”

Seokmin shook his shoulders and turned to walk out of Seungcheol’s office. He was gone for two seconds before he popped his head back in, with a grin on his face.

“Go home, Seungcheol”

You were in sweats and a shirt most of the day, except for the few hours Yeda came by and took furniture shopping. 

On a normal occasion, you would have thrived on the news of a few days off. After all, it was something that you had been wanting to do for a very long time but in your mind, you would travel with Yeda, somewhere sunny and beachy. Yet you were stuck inside an apartment that wasn’t yours, without a bed, and with your stuff scattered on the floor of a bedroom that wasn’t yours either.

Telling your friend the truth about your life felt like getting a weight off of your shoulders. It didn’t cure anything, and it didn’t make anything better but it made you feel better, and for a while that would have to be enough. 

You kept thinking of ways to talk to Seungcheol, to try and reach a consensus with him on how things should move forward.  You were married now and that meant Seungcheol would be a constant in your life. At the very least, you should be able to trust him. 

Even so, trust was too much of a strong word, something that felt foreign even though he was someone who had been around you for most of your life. No, trust wasn’t it, at least for now it wasn’t what you needed. What was of vital importance were the rules — coexisting rules. After Yeda left, you sat down with a piece of paper and started to scribble down what you thought was necessary for the two of you to cohabit. It couldn’t be too much, nothing too out of the ordinary or crazy. Seungcheol, although he was a grown man who could and did support himself, could turn into a twelve-year-old that needed to be babied — or at least that’s how you remembered him. When he finally got home from work, you had already ordered pizza and were sitting on the couch watching the eight o’clock news. “Our first meal together as a married couple is pizza” he grunted as he sat down on the easy chair on the opposite side of you. You pushed the box towards him and leaned back on the couch. “If the pizza is any indication of how our marriage is going to be then I would say it will go pretty nicely” Because Seungcheol seemed stressed when he left in the morning, and if you were being honest all through the weekend as well, you decided that you would order his favorite pizza. If you were a little more domesticated then you could have probably cooked him something, try to make it even harder for him to be an asshole to you for a few hours. But cooking was never something you enjoyed or were good at, so the whole get a man by his stomach wasn’t going to happen with you two. 

You survived college only through packaged meals and fast food. You weren’t about to start cooking because of him. The only thing he could get from you was some takeout or order in, if that. “Are you suddenly optimistic about our marriage?” You shook your head and you gave him one of the contracts you wrote. “No, I have something to ask” He laughed as he took the sheet out of your hands. “That’s how it’s going to be now? You feed me and ask for something?” he put the paper on the table and went back to looking at you. “Isn’t that how most marriages go? I even got them to take off the pineapple from the pizza Not even half with the delicious pineapple. I really tried” It was hard for Seungcheol to keep a straight face. Yes, you were trying. If the roles were reversed and you had treated him the same way he did to you, he would not even look at you twice, much less would he try to talk to you.

“I'm in a good mood, so ask away”

“Can I use your office?”

Seungcheol looked at you, confusion all over his face. Out of all the things that you could have asked him that would be the last one in his mind.

“There's more stuff in here”

He didn't bother to read what you wrote, whatever your conditions were, he would comply. 

“Ah yes,” you ran your hands on top of your thighs cleaning them before turning around to face him “Since neither one of us wanted this, I thought that we should have some housing agreements. Number one is: you're in charge of food”

He knew how to cook, he wasn't good enough to make it to Master Chef but he wouldn't starve. He almost laughed remembering the day your mother went to his house to plan for the wedding. She said that you were perfect in all other ways but that Seungcheol should never let you get near the kitchen unless it was for takeout. I don't know what else to do, I teach her and she actually tries but she just can't.

“I can do the shopping but that's it” you looked at him, expecting him to fight back but all you got from him was a quiet agreed “Good. Number two and three: because you're cooking I'll do the cleaning but we will share doing laundry. I refused to get anywhere near your underwear, Number four: We will share the office. Although I like my bedroom and it's big enough to fit everything, thank you for that, I prefer to paint with natural light and it doesn't have much of that”

He nodded at that too. When Seungcheol moved to his apartment he chose it because his bedroom, as well as his office, had a nice view of the city but the spare bedroom faced other buildings in the same complex, so there wasn’t much sunlight. He didn't care much about that at the time since he was alone for a while. He was sure that when you finally got married, you would move to an actual house, he could remember you saying that was something you wanted. But since the marriage itself happened so quickly neither one of you had the time to look into it.

“Yeah, that's okay. Move stuff around as much as you want, I don't mind. Have you bought the furniture for your bedroom? I didn't think to buy anything because I didn’t know they would get the bed removed, I'm sorry. What about your instruments? I haven’t seen anything”

You almost shocked on your saliva. Never before had you heard Seungcheol apologize to someone and sound sincere while doing it. Every single time he said it before, it was pushed out between his teeth, his hands closed into fists. He hated to apologize more than anything in the world, even if he was completely wrong.

He is really trying.

And the fact that he remembered about your instruments, that he even thought to ask about them, made your heart do a little leap inside your chest. You wanted to press your hand over it, as if telling it to calm down

“I went today with Yeda, they'll probably bring the stuff tomorrow” you purposely didn’t mention your work.

“I don't think that sort of thing happens so fast”

You snorted turning the page in the contract. You were almost embarrassed by calling it a contract. He read actual contracts and official documents every day at his job, and whatever you wrote was probably like an insult to him. 

“It does when you pay extra”

A groan escaped your lips when you heard those words, hated saying them out loud. For all the three seconds that it took you to say them, you sounded just like your mother and that was not a comparison that you would like to be part of.

“Anyway, item number five: all of our extramarital activities should be done outside this apartment. This is our safe haven. Whatever happens, needs to stay outside”

It was something hard to say, something that felt bitter on your tongue, but what other choice did you have? Both of you were thrown into a marriage without love, a marriage that neither of you really wanted and yet were stuck with each other. 

Saying those words left a nasty taste in your mouth. Not once before, while imagining what it would be like to married to someone — married to Seungcheol —  you pictured yourself bluntly saying that he could be in a relationship with someone else, a person who wasn’t you. You’ve always known that Seungcheol had a few relationships before and you were okay with it. You weren’t anything to each other but a promise, and so you never expected him to be faithful in the first place. Even though he never said anything to you, even though you never saw those things happen right in front of your eyes, word always got out and found its way to you. It never really matter how badly you didn’t want to hear about it. Knowing those things made your heart drop as if it was no longer beating in your chest like it was supposed to. And you hated yourself for it. Why did you care? Why did it hurt to know about those things when Seungcheol didn’t mean anything? You were seventeen when you were told that you would be marrying Seungcheol and ever since you never really contemplated the idea of being with someone else. Not because you were in love with him but because you knew that he was the one who you would end up with no matter how you wanted it to happen. So why should you engage in a relationship when it was bound to end? In college, while all of your friends went to parties and did all the things that it was expected of college kids, you stayed back and did your best at school, thinking that you could enjoy your life later when the plan for your career was set in the right direction. But you never actually did enjoy anything. School was over and all you did was focus on your work. And Seungcheol was always in the back of your mind, quietly reminding you that no matter what you did, he was the one you would be with in the end. He wasn’t the one you wanted but he was the one you were stuck with. So why, just why, was it so painful to say that he could be with other people? Tentatively, you looked at him. His eyes were focused on the paper in his hands, running over the same sentence again and again, hoping that if he read just one more time, it would magically change. For a second, it was as if he wasn’t even breathing at all. “My own wife is telling me that she wants to date other men while saying me that I should date other women” his bitter laugh made your heart drop all over again, and the sight of him writing his name under all the things you listed made you want to throw up “Good night, y/n”

hi! thank you for reading! let me know if you want to be tagged once part two is out, you can either message me or send an ask

[casdeans-pie]

If I could pitch season 16 of Supernatural:

Dean wakes up and it turns out that everything from 15x18 was an Empty Nightmare because he actually grabbed Cas just before he got taken, so got pulled in too.

Sam and Jack have been trying to get them both out for 5 years.

Jack still got the God Powers but he's whimsical with them and retains his personality. He wants to try and preserve human free will. But also helps in small ways where he can. (and still pops into the bunker for a bowl of cereal from time to time)

Sam is the 'new Bobby' in the MOL bunker - sending out hunters and knowing all the lore about all the monsters. (Also he practices witchcraft on the side)

No blurry wife - Sam and Eileen are engaged - and no Dean Jr. But! they are considering having a kid soon. And! They can get married now that Dean and Cas are back!

Dean and Cas heartfelt reunion!!! Clinging hug!!!! Never let me go again!!!! We're not talking about the confession but we both want to!!!!! etc etc

Cas is still an angel and Jack offers to make him an archangel !! Cas feels like he should say yes out of obligation (even if he doesn't want to leave) but Dean actually FINALLY asks him. to stay? (Cas immediately declines Jack's offer)

Dean struggles with the memories of his Empty Nightmare. (It was just SO bad. But also he tries to describe Old Man Sam and his bad hair and that cheers him up.)

The original Death is back because he never really died, he just didn't want to be involved in all the Winchester shenanigans. But he's back now that all the world-ending chaos is over. (Tessa is also back as his second-in-command)

Billie is the new ruler over the Empty, and it's a place of eternal rest now. Very peaceful. Meg is there and she's having a great time relaxing.

Crowley comes back as a human for a second chance. He's still kind of an ass but he's lovable with it.

Lots of reunions and cameos. It's magic you can bring all sorts of characters back to life - a lot of them died unfairly in the first place. Bring them all back!

Dean! and! Cas! Kiss!

I want all the genres of kiss. Confused. Desperate. Relieved. Passionate. Tender.

The season is all very character focused and character driven and ties up any loose ends the show had left.

The drama comes from internal character struggles and with Dean and Cas figuring out where they fit into this 5 years on world now. (The answer is together doing whatever they want to and Dean comes to the realisation he wants to retire, but he struggles with reconciling that he wants to retire and Sam doesn't and they have to go on different paths now).

The series ends with the big Sam/Eileen wedding and it's just a huge party and gathering of all the cameos you can possibly think of. Friends, family, frenemies, some beloved characters who only appeared in one episode... they're all there.

Dean proposes to Cas by taking the loop from Baby's keys out of his pocket and getting down on one knee and using it like a ring stand-in (it's way too big but it's symbolic and cheesy and sweet and it doesn't matter)

Of course he says yes.

The end.

[pink-sparkly-witch]

All She Wants, Part Three (Finale)

Summary: Dean’s experience with the wrong hormone suppressants makes him feral. The only person who can get him out of it and save his life is Y/N, the omega he had been mating with for years until she left six months ago. Without a claim and with no prospects of Dean ever giving her one, Y/N finally had enough and broke the bond they’d forged in their years together and left him, but with Sam now begging her to go to Dean and save his life, will she go, or will she leave the green-eyed alpha to his biological fate?

Pairing: Alpha!Dean Winchester x Female Omega!Reader

Rating: 18+ Only

Bingo Square: Alpha Gone Feral for @j3bingo

Warnings: tw: dub con claiming, omegaverse, A/B/O, A/B/O dynamics, language, ruts, feral alpha, agitation, aggression, smut, rough sex, biting, oral sex (f rec), fingering, p in v sex, hair pulling, heavy angst, aftercare, fluff

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: Here we go… the super angsty finale of this alpha!Dean mini-series! I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Please consider reblogging to spread this far and wide around this Hellsite, or leave a little comment. It really does fuel our muse. If you’re too shy or too cool for people to know you read fanfic and you don’t want it showing on your blog, you can submit an anonymous ask or drop me a DM 💖

You can catch up here!

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Y/N’S POV

The knocking on your motel room door startles you, and you grab your gun from the waistband of your jeans and cautiously step towards the door. Flicking the safety off, you place the barrel onto the wood and cautiously open it just enough to see who’s on the other side.

“Sam? Cas?” you gasp, throwing the door open wider.

“You should be more careful, Y/N. We could be demons or shapeshifters or any other kind of monster,” Cas speaks first, and you blink at him, amused, as always, by his directness.

“Nice to see you, too, Cas,” you smirk, opening the door wider to let them in.

“Hey, Y/N,” Sam says as he leans down to hug you. “It’s good to see you.”

“You too, Sam,” you smile as you close the door behind them. You know whatever this unplanned visit is, it’s about Dean.

“You seem healthy,” Cas states, tilting his head to the side and frowning as if searching for something. “And yet—”

“So!” Sam interrupts quickly. “How have you been?”

“Fine…” You narrow your eyes at the alpha’s strange behaviour. “This isn’t a social visit, is it?” You finally ask.

“No,” Cas confirms, and you don’t know if you’re glad he’ll get straight to the point or if you’d prefer Sam to dance around it all a little more.

“Dean.” It’s not a question. It’s a statement. You knew from the way your stomach dropped the second you saw them that this wasn’t a good news visit.

“I asked Cas to find you,” Sam said softly.

You and the younger Winchester have stayed in touch since you left the bunker, but you agreed you wouldn’t tell him where you were, and he wouldn’t ask. It was one thing for Dean to find out they were talking, but it’d be another entirely if he knew Sam knew where she was.

“What happened?” Your mind goes to the worst possible scenario, and you try to fight the rising nausea. 

“Dean has been taking store bought suppressants,” Sam says, and you feel your blood boil.

“What? Why? Why would he be so goddamn stupid? Did he know what they’d do to an alpha in his situation?” you fume at the men as you pace the threadbare carpet.

“No. He knew they weren’t suitable long-term, but the side effects he experienced weren’t typical,” Cas answered.

“I thought it was a mix of the drugs and rejection sickness and that it’d ease over time,” Sam says calmly and quietly. “But I think he suffered some kind of chemical reaction to them, and by the time I found out what he was taking, it was too late.”

“Too late? Sam, what are you saying?” You’re terrified of what he’s so anxious to tell you.

“He’s feral, Y/N,” Cas finally puts you out of your misery, and while it’s bad news, it’s not the worst thing they could’ve told you. “But I don’t understand why you are not.”

It’s not an accusation. The angel is just curious about alphas who mate with but don’t claim omegas. To his literal knowledge, an alpha finds an omega, they mate, there’s a claim, an unbreakable bond, and pups. Your situation with Dean had always intrigued the celestial being.

“Because I’ve been taking the suppressants I should. Prescribed by a doctor. Why didn’t he do the same thing?” Contrary to the angel’s question, yours is accusatory as you look between Sam and Cas.

“You know what he’s like, Y/N. He doesn’t talk about these things, and I didn’t know until a few days ago. He’s been overcome with guilt for how he treated you, and I think…” Sam trails off, noticing from the look on your face that you know what he was alluding to.

“You think this is some kind of self-sacrifice?” you ask in disbelief. Dean is well known for his self-depreciation, and it’s something you’ve seen and heard from him many times, but this? “No… No, I don’t believe that. Why would he put himself through that just to go feral anyway? Why not just lie down and let it happen on its own?”

“You really want me to answer that?” Sam asks, and you frown.

“Sam, you can’t be serious! Dean is not doing this to punish himself for hurting me. There’s no way,” you argue, but you know the green-eyed alpha better than he knows himself. It does sound like something he’d do to himself—some kind of fucked up repentance for his behaviour.

Sam only shrugs, and you sigh, knowing you’ve both come to the same conclusion.

“So, what? You want me to go to him? Get him out of this mess?”

“You’re his mate. Only you can get him back from this,” Cas says, and you laugh bitterly, taking the angel by surprise.

“I bet Dean loves that!” you scoff. “Anytime I told him that like it or not, we’re mates, he shot me down in flames!”

“I know he hurt you, and I can’t imagine how hard this is for you, and Dean knows it too. He told me not to look for you. That he doesn’t deserve your help, but I’m asking you to think about it. Please?”

“I don’t know, Sam. If I go to him, you know what it means, right?” you check, not convinced either of them fully understand what they’re asking of you.

“I do,” Sam responds.

“And you know it’s pretty much a done deal that he’ll claim me in his feral haze? And then when he comes to, he’ll regret it and reject me? You’re asking me to sacrifice myself for him? Because I won’t survive his rejection, you both know that, right?”

“He’d never reject you, Y/N,” Cas confirms what you know in your heart, but it brings no comfort.

“Oh, because a forced claim and being stuck with someone who doesn’t want me is a better fate than dying from rejection!”

“He does want you. He loves you. He just can’t—” Sam starts, but you interrupt with a scoff.

“Give me what I want. I know, Sam. He’s told me that so many times it’s imprinted in my memory!” You huff, quickening your pacing.

You want to say no. You want to protect yourself and your fragile heart that’s still trying to heal, but you know if you were the feral one, Dean would already be here, doing everything he could to get you through it—even claiming you just so you’d survive.

He doesn’t deserve to die, and yet, you don’t deserve to be someone’s mistake, but you can’t see any other option. If you don’t go to him, he’ll die. If you go to him, and he doesn’t reject you, you’ll be miserable, but you’ll both be alive.

“Fuck!” you yell in frustration. Once again, you feel that self-loathing that only Dean seems able to bring out of you. You hate yourself because you still love him even after everything, and you’d sacrifice everything to save him.

“Where is he?”

Walking up to the secluded cabin, you shiver at the deathly silence surrounding you. As if being this deep in the woods isn’t ominous enough, there isn’t even a bird chirping or an insect buzzing in the heavy air.

You’re so deep in the woods that the midday sun can’t even breach the trees. You drove as close as you could, but you’d had to abandon your car about a mile back. This is probably the safest house Bobby had ever found, and you have to admire Dean for choosing this one to hide out in.

Sam had given you the key. At first, you’d been shocked he’d lock Dean in with no way to escape, but you knew feral alphas aren’t to be taken lightly. There had been cases of ferals going on murder sprees, and the green-eyed hunter would never risk putting people in any kind of danger.

“Dean?” you call out as you knock on the door. “It’s Y/N. Sam found me. He said you need my help.” With no response, you take a deep breath, preparing yourself for being too late, and put the key in the lock.

Pushing the door open slowly, the sour smell of Dean’s feral rut slams into you, and immediately your body begins to respond to the distressed alpha. Your skin tingles, heat floods your veins, and slick pools at your entrance. You’ve never been more grateful for a heat to come on as you are now. If it didn’t, Dean could seriously hurt or even kill you trying to get himself out of this.

“Omega,” Dean growls from the doorway of the bedroom and with one look at his bloodshot eyes, you know there’s little to no humanity in him right now.

“Alpha,” you whimper and bow your head in submission.

“Mine,” he groans in front of you, and you jump, having not heard him move across the room.

Dean buries his head in your neck and inhales your scent, gasping as if he’d been suffocating, and your scent is his oxygen.

“My ‘mega,” Dean snarls and slams you against the wooden door. You whimper at the pain and remind yourself not to fight. If you fight, things could get ugly.

Pawing at your jeans, he tries to undo them, but in his desperation to get at you, he can’t grasp the little brass button and punches the wall next to your head in frustration.

“Hey,” you purr, placing a hand on his cheek and smiling as he leans into your touch, “It’s okay, Alpha. Let me.”

Loosening the button and pulling the zipper down, you kick off your shoes, slide the denim from your legs and step out of them. Moving to your shirt, you begin pulling at the material when Dean slaps your hands away.

“No!” he growls. “Mine.”

Dean isn’t gentle when he claws at your shirt, grabbing the neckline with both hands and ripping the cotton from your body. The groan that rumbles from his belly when your lace-covered breasts are exposed to his gaze has slick soaking through your underwear.

He wastes no time placing his lips on the tops of your breasts, biting and sucking the sensitive skin, marking you in a way he never has before. Dean pulls the cups of your bra down and quickly finds a hard nipple, and you groan from his overzealous assault.

You whine as the alpha pulls away from you, but before you can complain further, Dean lifts you on his shoulder and carries you to the bedroom.

“Strip,” he orders as he places you back on your feet, and you don’t dare disobey or take your time removing your bra and panties. 

“Good girl,” he praises as he takes his clothes off, and you wonder if just being here is making him a little less feral. “Get on the bed, Omega.”

Again, you don’t dare take your time and quickly crawl onto the bed and wait for his next instruction. Dean kneels at the bottom of the bed, pulls you down by your ankles, and pushes your knees down to the mattress.

“Mine,” he growls as the scent of your slick reaches him, and he lowers his head between your legs. He’s not gentle, anything but, and his longer stubble scratches and jabs at your soft, sensitive skin. It’s sore, yet you quickly fall apart on his mouth.

Before you fully come down from your high, Dean’s fingers are inside you, and he’s sucking and biting his way up your body. When this is over, your skin will be an interesting spectrum of colour; you can already see patches of red on your breasts from earlier, and Dean’s not done with them yet as he goes back to sucking and biting your nipples.

As your forced heat takes over, the pain from Dean’s bites and rough hands ease, and all you can feel and hear now is desire and pleasure and growls and snarls, and Dean, mumbling mine over and over again while his teeth nip at your neck.

“Present, Omega,” Dean growls as he pulls back from your body just enough to let you turn around. You crawl further up the bed and lean forward onto your elbows. You unintentionally wiggle your ass as you get comfortable in your new position, making Dean growl deeply and spank your round cheeks.

You feel his hands slide up your thighs and over your ass. His touch soothes and cools your heated skin. When he finally slams into your slick, aching pussy, it’s hard, rough, and deliciously painful.

Dean is fully feral, and there’ll be no stopping him until he comes out of the rut in five or six days. You know it won’t be pretty, and you won’t come out of this unscathed. At least your heat is making you feel like a wanton whore.

As your humanity is overtaken by omega, much like Dean’s is with alpha, your last thought is being grateful for being in a cabin in the middle of the woods, in the middle of nowhere.

It’s been six days, and Dean still pounds into you like there’s no tomorrow. Your heat is starting to wane, but hasn’t subsided so much that you won’t still be pliable under his hands. Still, at least the heat fog is beginning to lift, and you hope it’s a sign that Dean’s rut is finally ending.

It took four knots to get him out of his feral state, but his rut is intense, and he’s insatiable. You suppose the combination of suppressants and being feral will do that to an alpha. 

“‘Mega,” Dean grunts as his hand slides up your spine and grips your neck. “So good for me, baby girl.”

His praise makes you purr, and you feel his hand slide from your neck into your hair and wrap his fist around it, making your body turn to jelly. Dean tugs your hair, and you’re forced to raise to your knees, your back pressed against his chest, and he pulls your head to the side by your hair, exposing your neck to him.

It’s already black and blue from the gnawing he’s been doing there this past week, but this is different. He’s scenting you and licking your mating gland and whining. Dean loves licking and kissing your neck, but not like this. It feels different. There’s a change in the atmosphere, and his thrusts are brutal and stuttered.

You try to move, try and get him away from you, but he snarls and yanks your hair painfully, keeping a hold of it so you can’t move.

“Dean,” you whimper, and he snarls again at the use of his name, and you know he’s not as far out of this rut as you’d hoped. “Alpha, please,” you beg, but it’s useless. He’s too far gone again. His mouth is sucking on your mating gland, and he’s growling and grunting as his knot swells and catches at your entrance.

“Please don’t do it, Alpha. It’s just the rut. You don’t want this… you don’t want me, please!” you cry. But as his knot slips inside, locking you together, your head falls back on his shoulder, and when his teeth break your skin, you scream your release and lose the little self-control you had earlier.

Coming down from your high, you notice that Dean is still latched onto you, and you can feel blood dripping down your neck. The sudden rush of hormones and pheromones from the claim makes you reach another orgasm, and this time, you take the alpha with you. Grunting and growling, Dean’s release coats your walls, and you let the blackness take over.

When you come to, you’re on your side, and Dean is cleaning and soothing the wound on your neck with gentle licks and soft kisses. You’re still locked together, and every twitch of his cock catches your G-spot and fills your womb with even more of his seed.

A brief thought that he could’ve gotten you pregnant crosses your mind, and you hope the fates aren’t so cruel as to have this be when you get your wish of pups; not like this.

The last week finally catches up with you, and the lullaby of Dean’s whines and whimpers, combined with his soft kisses, lull you into a deep sleep.

The sun’s warmth on your face begins to wake you from sleep. Your muscles feel heavy, and Dean’s lips caress your back and shoulders.

“Morning, Omega,” he rasps behind you, sliding a warm hand over your hip, and a pang of dread settles in your stomach. You’re tired, every muscle in your body is screaming at you, and your pussy is in agony from a week of rough pounding and knots courtesy of the alpha pulling you closer to his body. If he’s still not out of this rut, you don’t think you’ll survive another round.

“Don’t worry,” Dean chuckles. “I’m not feral anymore, and the rut has gone.”

You’re confused, wondering how he knew what you were thinking. You don’t think you groaned. In fact, you’re pretty sure you didn’t even move. Your body is too sore to even tense up.

Then you remember Dean claimed you and that he did it while in a feral rut. 

As your whole world comes crashing down around you, you do the one thing you’d rather die than do in front of Dean.

Cry.

DEAN’S POV

Devastation. That’s all he can feel radiating from the omega next to him. When he woke an hour ago, he’d been happier than ever. The second he claimed Y/N, there was a shift, and all felt right in the world.

He thought—naively, he now realises—Y/N would be happy. It’s what she wanted. What she needed, but the sheer anguish from her tells a different story. The worst part of all this is the shame he feels for claiming her without her consent and the knowledge that now, she’s stuck with him whether she wants to be or not.

“Hey, sweetheart, it’s gonna be okay,” Dean tries to soothe her and presses his lips to her shoulder. “Y/N, look at me, please?” She remains on her side, facing away from him and crying, and the alpha in him takes over. His omega is in distress, and he needs to fix it. “Omega, look at me!” he growls lowly, and watches as Y/N obeys his order and timidly rolls onto her back.

Dean’s jaw drops, and he’s disgusted with himself as he takes in her abused torso. There are a couple of bites and bruises on her back and shoulders, but it’s nothing compared to what covers her neck, breasts and stomach. There’s so much bruising that barely any skin has been left unblemished. As he scans further down her body, he can see the same damage over the tops of her thighs and between her legs.

“Baby girl, I’m so sorry. I—” Dean can’t finish; he has no words for what he did to her. He immediately gets out of bed and fills the tub with hot water. There’s only so much he can do for her out here in the cabin, but the safe house is stocked with first aid supplies, medication and dry and tinned food. 

When the tub is full, he shuts off the water and walks back into the bedroom, seeing Y/N still lying on her back and seemingly void of all emotion. Whether it’s on purpose to shut him out or she’s in shock, Dean’s not sure.

Walking over, Dean lifts her from the bed and carries her into the bathroom. He lowers her into the hot water and bathes her gently, mumbling words of comfort, hoping she can hear him and that she can find it in her to forgive him.

Y/N’S POV

After tenderly bathing you, Dean left you to soak in the warm water a little longer, telling you there were clothes in the wardrobe and that he’d make something to eat.

“Please eat with me, omega. You need to get your strength up, and we need to talk,” Dean had begged before he left, closing the door but not fully so he could still keep an eye on you.

He was right; you do need to talk. And eat. You feel weak and lightheaded and desperately in need of something to take away the pain that’s pulsing through every inch of your body.

When the water has lost its warmth, you climb out and wrap yourself in a towel, avoiding the mirror in the corner. Dean’s reaction earlier is enough for you to know you’ll burst into tears if you see it for yourself. And you can’t bear to see his claim on your neck when it was given under duress.

Pulling clothes from the wardrobe, you choose the softest and biggest things you can find. You know from the smell that the sweats and t-shirt are Dean’s, but you’ve always gotten comfort from his scent, and you suspect you’ll get even more from it now.

Coming out of the bedroom, you follow the noise towards the main part of the cabin and find Dean spooning pasta into bowls in the kitchen.

“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” he asks, stopping what he’s doing to give you his full attention.

“Sore,” you chuckle, pulling out a stool. You hiss and wince, the throbbing—and not the good kind—between your legs getting worse for a few seconds as you sit.

“I’m sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean… I hate that I was so rough. That I’ve hurt you,” Dean says as he pushes a bowl and fork towards you.

“You were feral, Dean. It’s not your fault,” you reply, and you mean it. It’s really not his fault.

“It is, though, sweetheart. If I had taken the right suppressants, I wouldn’t have gone feral, and I wouldn’t have claimed you without your consent.”

“I knew what I was signing up for when I came here. I’m just sorry you’re stuck with me,” you smile sadly. “And if you want to leave, I get it. I know I’m not what you want—”

“Would you stop saying that?” Dean interrupts. “I do want you. I have always wanted you. I’m scared that tying you to me will put you in danger.” The desperation rolls from him in waves, and you know he’s telling you the truth. You can feel it. “I want you, Omega. I want this. I don’t regret claiming you. I regret doing it against your will, and if you want to leave me… reject me… It’s what I deserve, and I’ll let you walk out of here right now, but please stop saying that I don’t want you, Y/N. You’re all I want.”

The chemical bond you now share with Dean is overwhelming. He feels more deeply than he ever lets on, and regret over the non-consensual claim is putting it mildly. He’s distraught over it, and his feelings are so strong that you can almost hear the thoughts in his head telling him he’s stupid and he’s fucked things up before it’s really started between you. You can’t take it. You can’t let him think you don’t want this too.

“You’re all I want too, Alpha. The reason I got so upset when I realised you could feel how I felt is because it was a rut claim, and we’d be stuck together and miserable and resentful, and I didn’t want that for either of us, but I could never reject you, Dean. I love you too much.”

The relief that washes over him makes you smile, and because of your new bond, you know he knows every word is true.

“I love you, Y/N. I’m sorry I couldn’t admit it before, and I’m sorry I didn’t give you what you wanted sooner.” Dean slides off his stool and comes to your side with a tube of cream in his hand. “Now, let me see that claim. It needs something on it, sweetheart.”

You tilt your head to the side and pull the neck of the shirt down, exposing the angry, swollen bite mark. Dean gently covers the wound with the medicated cream, and you hiss at the sting.

“Sorry, baby girl.” Dean winces, feeling your discomfort as clearly as you can. “Now, eat and then bed, Omega.”

“Just to sleep, right?” you ask, scrunching up your face and wriggling in your seat at the thought of him going anywhere near your pussy for at least a week. “No sex?”

“No sex,” Dean laughs. “You need to rest, sweetheart, so just lots of cuddles and closeness and bonding and sleep.”

THE END

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[hauntedwitch04]

Just a Mirror

Sam Winchester x plus size!Reader

Words: about 6.3k words

Warning: saddy sadness, and some allusion to sexy time, eating disorder, hating on your own person, please be careful if you sensible about this themes

REQUEST: Hi :) I saw that your requests are open, and I was wondering if you could do a Sam Winchester x plus sized reader; an angsty fluffy friends to lovers that has some smut and reader hating herself in the mirror and possibly problems with eating

Author’s note: Hi love! Thank you @desicroft02 so much for your request. I felt really inspired by your idea love and I hope you like how it came out, if you don't find yourself with what i wrote, feel free to say it to me and I'll write to you a new one !

p.s.I got very caught up in the topic, since it is something I feel very close to. I was never the skinny girl, but with the years I've grown used to feel different to others girls, and even if sometimes I really hate what I see in the mirror, I kinda arrived to the point that I see both the flaws and the strenghts of my body and I love both, but some of my closest friend and this kinda of disorder and I tried to help them the way aI could so this one is for them too.

In case you need someone to talk to, I am always here, don't be afraid to seek help because often having someone close by to remind you that the volume of that evil voice we hear inside can be lowered or eliminated is important.

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Why?

This is the only question that floats in your mind, while, with thick tears in your eyes, you try to read the enormous book about whatever monster you are hunting with your friends in this little city, forgotten by God.

You and your childhood best friends are hunting some monster that you still haven't been able to figure out what it is, despite the fact that you are reading yet another list of monstrous animals in the story, while Dean and Sam are still out at the bar where you had decided to spend the evening, and from which you had decided to escape as quickly as possible, without giving any kind of explanation to the two hunters, holding back tears and trying not to meet their confused gaze

You and the boys have been friends since you were six and they were seven and eleven. You met on a rainy October day when you were still living at Bobby's house, after your father had died in a hunting accident after leaving you with him, and being his friend and seeing him almost as a brother he couldn't help but welcome you and raise you as if you were his own daughter.

Dean and Sam had just been left in the rain on the narrow dirt road by their father when you looked out and saw these two cold, sad, and at the same time angry children. You could see the resentment they felt for the man who looked less and less like a father and more and more like an army general, ready to train soldiers and not raise children. Immediately you went to Bobby and told him of the presence of those two unknown children who were in your driveway. He had immediately run to get them and brought them inside the house, worried that they would get sick from standing in the rain, and wondering why their father had left them there, without saying anything.

"He said he didn't have time to explain and that he had to get there as fast as he could, but that he would call you this evening." Said the older of the two once they were seated on the couch in what must once have been a beautiful dining room, and was now more like an ever-growing mountain of books. It is to your adoptive father that you owe all the culture and ability to read texts on the supernatural that most hunters would not even know how to open.

As he spoke you could see the blond child trying to hold back the sadness within himself and show himself as a big boy, almost pretending to understand why his father abandoned them like that without saying a word; in contrast, the one who was supposed to be the smaller of the two, with unruly brown hair, looked more like a beaten puppy, as he wetly moved his feet lazily on the floor, listening to what his brother had to say, but not hiding his sadness and anger at his daddy's decision.

"Baby, couldn't you get Sammy a glass of water for him while Dean and I go make a call for a minute?" Bobby then asked you suddenly, and you realized that you were lost in thought as you watched and studied those boys. You nodded quickly, trying not to let it show that you had spent all that time staring at them, as you heard Bobby's voice and that of the blond boy, apparently named Dean, drift away, only to hear the front door open and close.

After a few minutes you returned to the living room with a glass in your hand, and walked over to the brown-eyed boy, who was now looking at you and smiling shyly. You handed him the glass with a beaming smile, and he could do nothing but blush a little and retract his body a little, letting shyness take possession of him as he took the glass.

"Thank you." He told you in a faint voice.

"You're welcome." You replied as you sat next to him on the sofa.

"My name is Sam." He said, only to freeze and blush again as he held out a hand for you to shake, just as grown-ups do. You told him your name, and he commented that it was a very nice name, and that he liked it a lot, before going back to being silent and staring into the sad void.

You not being able to see what you considered a new friend feel so bad, you shamelessly asked him why his father had left him there and if that was why he was sad. He turned to look at you, and unknown how, he burst into tears, while with his hands he covered his face, not wanting to be seen as weak with someone he had just met, but you didn't give a damn.

Immediately you hugged him and listened to him talk about how his father was behaving with them, how his brother was struggling more and more to hide that he was tired of his parent's behavior, and how he was lonely and sad, constantly changing towns and seeing nothing but his family. That poor seven-year-old seemed to be thirty years old because of the problems he was telling you about, and as much as you were even younger because you were only six, you felt like you could understand him, because for a while that had also been your life before your father passed away.

You remained thus cuddled on the couch and fell asleep, lulled by the warmth of the fire slightly away from you and the new friendly presence that had entered your lives that afternoon, so much so that when Bobby and Dean returned after trying for a varied amount of time to contact John, and finally once succeeding in being insulted and put down by him, they both smiled at the sight of those two small and defenseless children embracing each other, as if to protect each other from the world. But no one knew that night before you fell asleep you had promised to protect each other forever, no matter how, when or why you would always be there for each other.

That was how you got to know the Winchester brothers, and the hatred for their father also began.

You awaken from your thoughts when you hear the motel door open and close, realizing that another time had gone into the whirlwind of memories and you were lost in remembering again when life was easy. You hear someone coming toward you with heavy footsteps, so you wipe away the tears you didn't know were there on your cheeks, which like small streams had almost made a furrow along your skin by now.

You sense right away who it is, but you don't have the strength to turn around so you continue to cry silently as you feel two arms wrapped around you, and Dean's warm body resting on your back as he leans down so that he can put his head in the crook of your neck and hold you better. Ever since the two of you met it was immediately like big brother and little sister between the two of you, and even now despite the fact that it has been a long time since you were children and in your spare time you enjoyed stealing cherries from the neighbor's tree, there is still that complicity and understanding between the two of you that once existed.

He knows exactly why you escaped so suddenly from the dive bar you were both in a few hours ago. Sam had seen a beautiful girl, the classic cover model of some magazine, slim and with all her shape in the right place, taking a drink at the bar, looking seductively at him as she put the drink straw between her lips. Sam's hormones had not let him repeat twice that clear call to fuck directly in the bar's bathroom, a bathroom from which you were coming out as he was sticking his tongue down the throat of that fake and at the same time perfect babe, who in his arms looked so small and yet in the right place, toned against his strong muscles, as opposed to how you would have looked with your shapely body. You couldn't stand there and watch the boy you love for so long now make out with someone else, so without explanation you left and went back to the motel where you took two bedrooms for the case. Usually you take two rooms only when Dean wanted to find someone to take to bed, unlike Sam who kept his sex life much more private than his brother, but since he and Cas had come out a few months ago you had not taken the second room, having practically grown up together and thus having no problem sharing space. That night, however, when you had arrived in the small town Sam had insisted on taking a second room, and stubbornly had not told his older brother why when he had asked him, and somehow your heart was preparing for what would happen, but in fact nothing would totally prepare you for what you would see in that bar and how your heart would break.

Dean squeezes you tightly, as if he is afraid you will disappear at any moment, and that heartfelt squeeze only makes you break the weak dam you had built when you saw him come in, and you burst into endless weeping.

"I know baby, I know." That's all the blond man can manage to say to you, as he gets you up and carries you toward the bed, so you can lie down and take off your shoes, before coming close to you and holding you in his arms, until exhausted, you fall asleep safe in Dean's strong hold, while he whispers soothing words to you.

The next morning you wake up with the sun gently caressing your face from over Dean's shoulder. You smile for a second, imagining what it would be like to wake up in the other Winchester's arms, and soon after your heart, as if pierced by an arrow, bleeds at the memory of what happened last night. You get up, shifting your friend's arms, and go to the bathroom to wash and freshen up, when you hear the door to your room open, and a male voice, known even too well, shout to your still sleeping friend.

"Dean, wake up!" Sam yells, and you behind the door hold a hand over your heart, just imagining her beauty after her usual morning run to stay in shape. Her long dark hair tied back in a light bun, her forehead sweaty and muscles still tense from exertion.

"I'm awake, you asshole." Dean replies, as you hear him get up and go get some coffee. "You could have deigned to make less noise last damn night, you know there were people here who wanted to sleep."

You hear Sam snort at his brother's words, then respond to him in an aggressive, cold tone.

"Well then there are people who wouldn't want to see you run off to fuck wherever we go, hold hands all the time or make love wherever you are. And you know something else too Dean, I thought you were a better person. Why her? Come on you've had a lot of girls, and it wouldn't cost you anything to find a thousand more, why did you have to choose her!?" Says the younger brother, before leaving the room, slamming the door behind him.

You close your eyes and try to control your breathing as you feel yourself lacking oxygen. You feel tears coming to your eyes, but you try with all your strength to push them back down. You take a few minutes to control your emotions as all you want to do is fall to the floor on your knees and scream until you can't hear yourself anymore, but you stay strong and open the door to see Dean immediately in front of you, looking pained and guilty, seeing your state.

"You didn't tell him." You say in a calm, quiet voice, not asking, but stating that your best friend had not told about his new relationship with our angel friend.

"I never found the right time." Dean tries to say, then looks down. "I never had the courage, every time I seemed to miss the words."

"Sam would never judge you, and you know that." You say as you feel a pang inside your heart, remembering the words the man you love had used a few minutes earlier. You feel your clothes sticking to your body like glue, too tight, so tight that you feel as if they have pre torn. You feel how the floor gives way under your feet, you feel how a billion eyes are on you ready to judge you, you feel something inside you break, but you can't let anyone but yourself see how mere words have hurt you, so you grit your teeth and continue to look at Dean stoically, as you feel a single and only tear escape down your face.

"I know, but I'm afraid in the same way, I don't want it to end like last time." Dean confesses, still looking at the floor, but crying clearly, as his words take you back to when you were nothing more than kids and he had come crying to you one night, confessing that he had fallen in love with a boy he had met during his last case, and that his father after finding out had beaten him so badly that his scars remained, and had forced him to watch pornographic movies, reminding him how "a real man acts." No one had ever seen you as angry as Dean, and Bobby when he heard you scream and came to watch that night as you swore to heaven that you would kill John Winchester. Dean had never told Sam about that episode, not wanting to worry him since he had just run away to study at Stanford, and asked you to do the same. It has been so long since that night, yet the memory of that pain and that man still frightens the wonderful person in front of you.

"But I swear I will. He has no right to think such things about you! I-I will tell him-" He begins to say, as he tries to wipe away the tears running copiously down his face. You, moved in turn and knowing that like you he too was remembering that fateful evening, take his face in your hands and bring his eyes to gaze fixedly into yours.

"No, you won't do it now, you will do it when you feel like it." You comment chuckling as you caress his face. He looks at you unconvinced and you see his inner battle inside whether to accept your proposal or to be as always too good and allow the world to kick him in the balls.

"Please be selfish for once. And if I serve as your cover, so be it, not that I would have had any chance with him anyway." You continue, smiling at him as you feel your heart slowly shatter. You see Dean ready to retort, but you have already disappeared back into the bathroom, crying silently. Once the bathroom door is closed, you stop to look at yourself in the mirror and realize how disgusted you feel about your body.

There is not a single thing about you that you like: your thighs, your arms, your stomach, your chest.

The more you look at yourself, the more you want to break that all-too-truthful mirror, which tells an unfiltered reality, a sad truth that for so long you had tried to ignore, but which now that Sam had spit it in your face you could no longer pretend not to see. So you decide at this very moment that everything was going to change, you don't know how, but it was going to happen.

So weeks go by, Sam still won't talk to you, and slowly you continue to sink into the stupid realization that he doesn't because only he, like you, can really see your body, and that he hates you for it, so now convinced that you have to change your body to be loved, you begin to eat less and less and more rarely, and what little you put in your mouth to make Dean happy, who sees you getting sadder and more tired, is rejected from your stomach just moments later when no one is looking at you. This situation hurts your body and your heart, but you do it so that you can look at yourself in the mirror without wanting to punch him, but things seem to get worse and worse. You look at yourself and you never fit, before you saw a body you didn't like, now beyond that you see a person you don't like.

Dean is getting more and more worried about you, seeing you getting paler and paler and thinner, but every time he tries to talk to you, you put on a smile and pretend that everything is going well and that the only reason your shirts now look huge on you is that you are working out more, but he knows that you never liked sports and that is why he knows you are lying to him. He tried to talk to Sam about what was going on, but all his brother managed to say by pouting was that if he needed relationship advice to go somewhere else and that he didn't want anything to do with the two of you.

Dean was on the verge of smashing the plate he was holding in his face and yelling at him to open his eyes and see that you love him more than Dean does right now and that he is fucking in love with their favorite angel, but then he had seen Castiel's face and knew he couldn't let him down after he asked him to keep a low profile and let as few people as possible know about their relationship.

Dean had never felt so lousy as deciding between the love of his life and a friend in need, but he knew that if you found out what he had done you would insult him, so he played it cool and moved on, as if nothing had happened, while he continued to try to take care of you, with little success.

It's been almost a month since Sam had said those horrible things, and you're not getting worse and worse, but in order not to show it in front of your friends, you keep doing the same things as before, trying to have the same cheerfulness.

You are now hunting a werewolf in a remote town in a state you don't even remember. Your body is weak, you haven't eaten anything Dean has brought you in the last three days taken at the various fast food restaurants and bars he had found along the way, and what little you had put in your mouth had gone down the drain shortly thereafter, hating yourself just for having the idea that you could eat something. You feel your eyelids as heavy as shutters, the muscles in your body are nonexistent, and what few are left ache from the mere effort of standing and walking, while your head throbs incessantly.

In this you are scouting around where the last victims had been killed, to see if you can find any more information, but so far you have not had much success, so you decided to split up.

You are barely holding the flashlight in your hand, too heavy for you, when you feel a sudden dizziness that forces you to lean against the wall. You stay a few minutes trying to catch your breath, eyes closed, breathing in the cool night air around you, when you hear a noise coming from a short distance away from you, like a dog growling. With difficulty you open your eyes and see before you a sight that is frightening to say the least: the werewolf you were looking for is looking at you ravenously, while a dark laughter rumbles from his belly to his mouth. Quickly you try to pick up the phone to call Dean or Sam, but unfortunately your mind is so clouded that you can't even do simple things like this and the phone slips out of your hands to the monster's feet.

"The Winchesters' little friend!" He says, seeing who you were trying to contact. "I've heard a lot about you, among the monsters you are known as their true weakness: so small and helpless, you wouldn't even survive my bite, I'll do you a favor and eat your miserable heart." He continues as he gets closer, and you do whatever comes to your chin at this moment, as you feel death coming slowly but comfortingly too, like an old friend you haven't seen in a long time. You scream Sam and Dean's name as loud as you can, hoping that at least one of them can hear you, your lungs aching from how much breath you had to use and your throat burning from the effort as you feel your strength failing.

You lean back against the wall again, this time with your back, and let yourself slide down to the floor, as your vision goes completely black and your ears become plugged as when you go too deep underwater, and the world seems more and more distant. You have one last flicker of life before you pass out completely in that dark alley, at the mercy of that monster, and you hear Sam's voice call out your name for a moment.

Your heart loses a beat, and then completely dark.

You awaken with a jump and a gasp as you sit up on the bed on which someone has carried you. Your head immediately begins to spin like a spinning top, and your vision fails again as you feel a warm hand settle on your shoulder and bring you back to lie down.

"Relax, you're safe now. It's okay." Says in a low, soft tone a rough voice, leading back to Sam. You, shocked to know he is there next to you, open your eyes with difficulty and find yourself lying on the bed in your room, in the bunker, as you see him kneeling beside your bed. His face shows the weariness he feels, but in his eyes shines a strange hope as he looks at you mixed with sadness. You place your gaze on the rest of the room and see your favorite chair, where you usually sit to read your books or do your research when you are tired of sitting in the library, covered with blankets and pillows, making you realize that your favorite giant has been sleeping there for what seems to be even more than a couple of days, otherwise everything looks the same, unchanged, and strangely everything now seems to make more sense with the presence of Sam and some of his things in the room. Immediately you slap yourself in the face at that thought, reminding yourself that he hates you, and that the reason he is here is because Dean will have had better things to do than watch you sleep.

You're about to tell him that he can leave, and leave you alone, knowing that he doesn't even want to be in the same room with you, as he has shown recently, and that in case his brother asks you, you won't tell him, but he beats you to the punch and starts talking.

"First of all I want to say I'm sorry, you don't even know how much, and I certainly understand if you never forgave me in your life, because I wouldn't forgive myself." Sam says, as you see tears forming in his eyes. You try to stop him, confused as to why he was making that speech, but he stops you in turn and begs you to let him finish.

"We found you just in time, by "luck," if you can call it that, that asshole had decided to torture you a bit before eating your heart, and we got there before he could do it, but when Cas touched you to treat you he said he didn't know if you would survive anyway because your body was too weak since you hadn't eaten for too many days. Dean insulted me and even beat me up a bit before explaining the matter from his point of view." You can't help but widen your eyes, and Sam chuckles seeing your expression, as two tears run down his face, and he darkens a little again before continuing, without looking you in the eye.

"Yes, he also told me about Cas, and also about that affair with our father to make me understand why you decided to cover for him."

You close your eyes for a moment, expecting a series of insults, but you only feel his lips rest on your hand, so you open them again and see him leaning over the bed, as you feel his tears coming hot to contact your cold hand.

"Thank you." The boy confesses in a whisper. "Thank you for everything you did for Dean, thank you for always taking care of him when I couldn't or was too blind and stupid to, I don't deserve to have you in my life."

You can't find the words, and so you do the only thing you can think of this moment, and you take his hand and squeeze it, while barely smiling at him.

"We will always have helped each other, you remember. Then Dean will be your brother, but it's like he's my brother too." You say as you pull his face up and force him to look into your eyes. You see him cry even harder, a few sobs escaping his lips, as he squeezes your hand even tighter.

"I'm sorry, I promised I would always protect you, and instead I was so stupid and jealous that I didn't realize what I was doing." He tells you again, only to stop for a moment and look at you this time with a resolve he lacked until a few seconds ago. "Why did you stop eating? How come you covered your mirror in the bathroom? Dean found the remains of the one from before in the garage, thought you didn't like it and got a new one, so he changed it for you."

Immediately you remember, one night in a rage after looking at yourself in the mirror for the umpteenth time, you had started punching it until it had become nothing but stardust under your bleeding fingers, and the next day when you had returned from your walk with the dog, you had found a new one, with a note from Dean who had said that seeing that you had taken it off, thinking that you didn't like it anymore, he had bought a new one, so realizing that you couldn't escape that vicious cycle and knowing that if it happened one more time it would arouse even more suspicion, you had simply covered it up, and hoped that no one would ever learn of that dirty secret, and instead, here it all was for all to see.

You look at Sam in those damned puppy-dog eyes of his, and burst into desperate weeping. He, seeing you in this state, instinctively picks you up and holds you in his arms.

"I disgust myself Sam." You finally manage to utter those damn words, and immediately you feel as if your soul lightens as you feel his arms grip your body even tighter as if you could disappear at any moment, and at the same time he does it with an innate delicacy, as if it were a precious crystal figurine that can be broken under his gaze. "I'm disgusted by my body, I'm disgusted by every single thing about me, and you're disgusted by it too, don't lie to me. I thought if I lost weight things would get better, but they don't, I feel worse and worse." You continue, while somehow trying to get away from him.

"In what sense would you disgust me? When would I have ever said such a thing?" He asks confusedly as he looks at you, tears have dried on his face. His eyes range and seem to want to imprint your every little detail in his memory. His gaze makes you blush as you try to find the words to tell him how his words have done nothing but unleash a storm that had long been locked up somewhere inside you and was just waiting to be released. So you take a deep breath and tell him everything, while he looks at you attentively and astonished, his arms still around his body, as if he needs reminding that you are there beside him, and that you are not just a product of his mind.

You tell him everything, every little thing you had felt hearing his words while you were locked in that damn bathroom, your feelings and emotions in the month to follow, along with all the thoughts and all the actions you had put in place in the hope that he would no longer hate you, and that maybe you would hate yourself less, too. He starts crying again, and hides his face in the crook of your neck.

You stay a few minutes clasped to each other, in silence, after you have poured your heart out in front of him, ready to suffer the consequences, when he takes your face in his hands and stares at you steadily with those chocolate-colored eyes of his, and for a moment you feel your breath short.

"Don't ever think of such a thing again. Never. You are perfect exactly as you are, there is nothing I would change about you, there is nothing I don't love about you." At his words you stand still, as if petrified, afraid that a single movement of yours could mean the breaking of this beautiful illusion. "Yes, I am tired of holding all this in, I love you, I love you so much that I am sick just thinking about not having you near me for a second, I love you so much that I would have been ready to kill my brother for stealing the girl I love all my life, I love you so much that I would be ready to climb the highest mountain in the world and scream it to everyone!" He continues as he stands up on the bed, and begins to move his arms quickly, just enough to make you laugh. At the sound of your laughter he turns to look at you, and smiles even more, to return next to you on his knees and cup your face in his hands. "I love every little, tiny thing about you madly. I'm crazy, crazy in love, and I was a fool because I was so convinced that getting away from you would be better for you, that I didn't realize that you were suffering because of me, and I'm sorry. On the one hand I would like to let you go and make you happy, but on the other hand I am an extremely selfish being and I only want you for myself." He continues as he rests his forehead on yours, whispering the last words. "I love you, and I'm sorry."

You look at him, and not even realizing what you are doing, you take his face in your hands and bring his lips to yours. The kiss you exchange arises as sweet and gentle, like two flames dancing in an elegant dance side by side, testing each other's reaction, in the same way your lips move over each other, slowly tasting that new sensation. You feel her soft lips caressing yours, until neither of you has a single breath left.

"I love you too if you hadn't realized it idiot." You comment making him laugh. "I love you, and for so long I would have preferred not to because it made me sick, yet I could do nothing but love you. The only reason that kept me alive was my love for you, even though it was also my poison." You continue by looking into his eyes, and you see the pain in his.

"If you forgive me, I will do everything to correct what I have done." He looks at you, with a penitent and pleading gaze, as he takes your hands in his, before you release one and place it on his right cheek, and he instinctively leans into your hands, seeking that simple contact.

"I've already forgiven you moron." She laughingly comments, before throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him again, but this time the air in the room is different. The atmosphere becomes more erotic and intriguing. You feel his hands carefully explore your body, running his hands down your sides from your breasts to your butt, where he rests his large, warm hands, before slipping them under your T-shirt and caressing the skin of your back, making you shiver. You feel his hand rise higher and higher to the level of your bra and undo the hook that held it, but then he stops. Parting your lips he looks into your eyes for a second.

"If you don't feel up to it it's perfectly fine honey, we can stop here-"Sam says unsure, but you stop him.

"Afraid it's too much for you Winchester?" You ask as you raise your eyebrows, and see him smile, before resting his lips on yours, then creating a trail of kisses from your mouth to the chest exposed by the shirt you are wearing, down your neck.

"God, how I've missed you." He comments between kisses, but then stops again and looks at you seriously. "Anyway, I wasn't kidding myself, if you don't feel comfortable we can stop here."

You look at him, in his eyes only the pure affection and love you feel for him, and then put an end to all his doubts.

"I want to do it Sam." You say in a whisper as you take the bottom of his shirt with your hands and slowly slip it off, thus also dropping the bra he had unfastened a few minutes ago. "I want to do it with you Sam."

He looks at you and doesn't let you tell him twice, and he resumes his attack on your neck, leaving obvious signs of his passage, and then moves on to your breasts.

"God, you're perfect." He whispers before teasing one of your nipples. You moan softly at that sensation, feeling his teeth clench, his lips kiss and his tongue lick every single inch of your body, worshipping you like a goddess, a queen, tasting every inch of your skin.

This wonderful moment is interrupted, however, by the unannounced entrance of Dean, who, seeing the scene of his brother splayed across your body as he kisses your breasts, and with one hand explores the rest of your body, while you clutch his long hair in your hands, moaning his name shamelessly, lets out a small scream, before closing the door again.

"Damn you guys could warn." Comments the older brother, as Sam with speed grabs a blanket to cover you.

"Should we announce? You're the one who entered the room unannounced!" Sam replies in turn, making an expression that makes you laugh. "You can still come in now jerk."

"Bitch." Dean retorts, to open the bedroom door again and have a stupid grin plastered on his face. "So, I see Sam hasn't exactly figured out how to talk and resolve a situation, usually the mouth should be free to talk, not busy sucking-"

"You try to say one more Winchester word and I'll tell everyone about Christmas with Cindy McWood." You threaten him, and see him whiten, before his smile returns to its former self.

"Well what can I say in that case guys, good conversation and be sure to use protection, I'm not ready to be an uncle." He says closing the door behind him, then opening it again. "Not that I wouldn't make a great uncle, but I would say I'm too young and then-"

"Out!" You and Sam scream in unison, and the only thing Dean does is give you the finger before walking away. The two of you stand still for a moment weighing what just happened and burst out laughing, before Sam's lips find yours again.

"Where were we?" He asks you next, and you can't help but smile and moan at feeling his lips on you again.

It's shaping up to be a very interesting night, long but interesting, and you know that in the end maybe by tomorrow morning you can slowly look at yourself in the mirror, seeing the reflection of the man you love behind you supporting you.

TAGLIST

@supernatural-lvr @itzdarling @newtdumbledoorstarksoot @evansstan-akya

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Just A Girl

Sam Winchester x little sister!reader, Dean Winchester x little sister!reader

Synopsis: Y/N starts getting into interests other than hunting, but what happens when her brothers find out?

Author's Note: another Supernatural fic? Yup, my hyperfixation knows no bounds. Enjoy!

You were a daddy’s girl through-and-through. No question. Without a doubt.

Not that you had much choice in the matter. Your mother had died before you had even gotten the chance to form good memories of her, and your father, John Winchester, had taken you in as soon as he heard the news. So, that’s how you had grown up, looking up to your father and two big brothers. Needless to say, there was very little feminine influence in your life.

For the first many years, you had been fine with that. Overjoyed, even. You took on the role of tomboy with great ease, and you devoted all your energy to making the men in your life proud. You studied with Sam, trained with Dean, and compiled monster-killing information with John. 

But things didn’t–couldn’t–remain the same. The older you got, the harder you found it to relate to your brothers. Of course, you still enjoyed your training and the occasional hunt–they only allowed you to go on the “safest” ones–but you found yourself pulling away from your family more and more mentally, although you wouldn’t allow your inner-alienation to show to your brothers. You didn’t have to worry about hiding it from your father, since he was barely around. 

When Sam left for college, things only got worse. Dean doubled-down on your training, convinced that now that Sam was gone, you needed to be able to fend for yourself. If he needed backup on a hunt, he couldn’t turn to Sam anymore. You didn’t mind the work, but the long hours of training and the few hours of anything else was beginning to wear on you, both physically and mentally. The older you got, the more you felt like you needed your own space, to explore your own interests. You couldn’t tell that to Dean, though, not after he lost Sam to his own interests. 

Your hesitance about training wasn’t the only thing that was changing for you. You were also beginning to notice how emotionally distant your family was. It hadn’t affected you as much as a little girl, because when you were little, displays of affection from the men who raised you had been more common. But now that you were older, they seemed to think that you had outgrown such things. You could tell that you were being expected to “grow up”, maybe even “man up”, something you most certainly could not do.

But it was more than that. When you were little, all you ever wanted was to be like your family. You wanted to be strong like dad, protective like Dean, and smart like Sam. But you couldn’t do that anymore. You couldn’t look up to them like heroes, because you had long outgrown that notion. Of course, you still looked up to them in some aspects, but it was different now. Dad was always gone, Dean wouldn’t know how to deal with feelings if they danced around blowing trumpets in front of him, and Sam…well, Sam had left. Not that you blamed him, of course, he had his own life that he wanted to live. But it was hard to look up to something that you never saw.

All that to say, this wasn’t exactly an ideal environment for a teenage girl. You were far too reserved to take out your feelings the way the rest of the men did–bottling them up and then letting them out by screaming at each other. You had times when you wanted to, of course–you had been disagreeing with them, especially John, more and more as you got older–but you found yourself more and more afraid of conflict as you matured. Before Sam had left, he and dad had been yelling at each other almost constantly, and it was pure torture on your anxiety. You hated raised voices, you hated hurt feelings, you hated conflict of any kind really. Your brothers and father never backed down from a fight, be it physical or familial, but you couldn’t do that. You found yourself walking on eggshells, making sure not to even say–much less yell–anything that would set off an argument.

You were stuck at a sort of impasse–your desperate desire to please your family versus your personal inclinations to just be yourself. 

The only solution you had was to try and live both worlds; you trained with Dean whenever duty called, but afterwards you would retreat to your room, letting him work on whatever hunt he was preoccupied with, and you explored your own world.

You got into books, some tv shows the men in your life wouldn’t be caught dead watching (and would certainly make fun of you for watching), you tried out makeup and let your hair grow longer (you had always cut it short to keep it out of the way during training or hunting). You found that the more “feminine” things that you would’ve scoffed at a few years ago were suddenly looking much more interesting. You used one of those scammed credit cards Dean gave you to buy some ballet shoes, which you hid in your duffel under all your other belongings unless Dean and dad were on a hunt, at which time you would pull them out and teach yourself using some books you’d found. 

It took you a long time to get over your embarrassment at wanting to try “girly” things out, but once you did you never looked back. You still played the part that dad and Dean expected, the young tomboy following in the men’s footsteps, but when you were alone, you didn’t see any harm in trying out some hobbies that felt more like you.

Like right now, for example. Dad was missing, Sam was finally back, and he and Dean were off hunting some monster. You enjoyed your isolation by first finishing off a tv show that they would’ve hated, then by reading some more of a new book you had gotten that they would’ve scoffed at. After that, it was time to pull out the ballet shoes and practice that new move that you couldn’t quite perfect. 

You were so concentrated on figuring out the move, that you hadn’t noticed that you’d been practicing for hours, or that it was getting dark outside. You were also so intent on the music that you’d downloaded to go along with your dancing, that you didn’t hear the Impala pull up to the front of the motel room. In fact, you were so engrossed, that you completed the entire move–perfect for the first time!--and you were jumping around in excitement when you finally saw them. Your brothers. Standing at the door, mouths dropped open in shock, confusion contorting their features.

You froze on the spot, unable to move. You tried to speak, but no words would make it past your dry throat. You snatched up your phone and quickly killed the music, but there was no covering up the shoes you were wearing, and certainly no erasing the boys’ memory of what they’d seen. 

The three of you stood in silence for several moments, before Sam finally got the words–or perhaps the guts–to speak.

“What was that?”

You answer was immediate.

“Nothing.”

“What are those?” Dean was staring down at your pastel-pink ballet shoes, his mouth still hanging open–which would have been comical if your heart wasn’t pounding in your ears.

“Nothing, just-” your lip started to quiver, and you were so shocked and appalled by this that you bit it so hard, blood started to dribble down your chin. Winchesters did not cry. “Just forget about it.”

“Jeez, Y/N,” Sam exclaimed, snatching up a towel and wiping the blood off of your mouth. As soon as he was done, you pulled away and sat on your bed, removing your ballet shoes as quickly as possible and depositing them back in their spot–the bottom of your duffel. 

There was silence again for several seconds, but this time it was Dean who broke it.

“So…we’re not gonna talk about that?”

“Talk about what?” you muttered, your eyes downcast as you shifted on your feet.

Both brothers scoffed in unison.

“C’mon Y/N,” Sam insisted, putting his giant hand on your shoulder, “why didn’t you tell us you were into ballet?”

“And pretty darn good at it too,” Dean chimed in, awkwardly rubbing the back of his neck. 

You stared at them, confused.

“You’re not…mad?”

“Mad?” Dean frowned, “I don’t know why you think we’re mad, I’m just confused. I mean you never seemed into…this kinda thing.”

“I…wasn’t,” you picked at your fingers, trying to find ways to ease the awkwardness of the conversation. “But lately…I don’t know, I just wanted to try it out.”

“Dancing?”

“Not just ballet, I guess. Just…girl stuff,” you looked up, trying to gauge your brothers’ reactions. 

Sam just shrugged, “Ok.”

You were shocked.

“Ok? Just, ok?”

Dean smirked, “You may be a bit of a tomboy, but we haven’t forgotten that you’re a girl, baby.”

"Yeah, but," you sighed, "you don't think this stuff is stupid?"

"Well, you're not exactly gonna find me in those shoes," Dean shrugged, "But you do you, kid."

A relieved smile broke out on your face.

“You’re seriously ok with this?” Dean laughed, “Tell you what. I’ll be one hundred percent ok with this, on three conditions.

Both you and Sam frowned.

“What are they?” you questioned.

“Ok, one: never ask me to watch a chick flick with you.”

You giggled, relieved, “Ok.”

“Two: never play Taylor Swift in Baby. Never. I don’t care if I'm dead, that does not happen, understand?”

You giggled harder, “Ok, ok.”

Dean was frowning now, “Hey now, no giggling, I’m serious!” he snatched you up and threw you onto his bed, leaning over you and poking your sides, “This is a very serious conversation N/N, and I-” Dean dodged your desperate attempt to kick him away, smirking as you squealed under his ticklish assault. “Hey, that wasn’t nice. I can’t have this serious conversation with you giggling like that!” He poked at your ribs, laughing as you struggled.

“Wha-hat’s number three-hee?” you squealed, still trying and failing to get away from him.

“Oh yeah!” Dean suddenly pulled his hands away, once again regaining his serious composure. “I want front row tickets when you’re on Dancing with the Stars.”

You rolled your eyes and smacked his arm, “Dean, it’s just a hobby, I’m not gonna get famous for it.” “Hey now, you don’t know that, anything is possible. Now do we have a deal or not?”

You giggled, sitting up and wrapping your arms around your big brother.

“Deal.”

[thebiggerbear]

CJ Braxton x Reader - Prompt Response - "I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Summary: You had only meant to call once, remaining anonymous while feeling out the whole helpline thing for yourself. Now, you talk to CJ every Friday night around the same time. When you don't call one Friday, CJ is worried and comes looking for you which presents its own host of problems.

Pairing: CJ Braxton x Female!Reader; CJ Braxton x College Student!Female!Reader

A/N: Prompt from @creativepromptsforwriting (#941). I initially wasn't going to write anything for CJ but this idea popped into my head for this prompt and I just had to write it. And I absolutely fell in love with the dynamic between CJ and the reader (and had so much fun with this). Please forgive any timeline tomfoolery or anything time wise that makes you go "huh?"; I was trying to make this work throughout the season from CJ's entry into the show (and his conversation with Jen about the helpline) to the end.

I wasn't much of a Dawson's Creek person back in the day (I still haven't seen seasons 2-5), so I hope this came out alright. I tried to keep it as 2000-ish as possible. I remember back in the day not everyone had a cell phone like Dawson, Audrey, and Pacey (though a lot of people were getting them moving into the beginning of the decade) so that rule kind of applied here so to speak.

This is meant to take place during s6 before Jen joins The Stand.

Warnings: implied sex; panic attacks; implied anxiety

Word Count: 15k+

Please do not do any of the above. Thank you for your understanding.

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

CJ Taglist: @heartlessdelusions; @nancymcl

"I hate you." "You have a weird way of showing that."

Soldier Boy version | Beau version | Dean version | Jenny version | Jason version | Tom version | Rachel version | Anael version | Alec version | SDV Leah version

You glanced at the clock, seeing it was 6:59. One more minute and you’d pick up the phone as you did every Friday night and make the call you always did. Your nerves thrummed in anticipation as you stared down the clock, willing the numbers to turn.

Eventually, you got your wish and as soon as the 7 appeared on the clock face you picked up the phone, dialing the number you now knew by heart. After a few rings, the call finally connected. 

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

You couldn’t help but smile at the sound of his voice. “Hey.”

“There she is.” You could hear his own smile in his tone as he recognized you. “How are you, Jo?”

You winced at the fake name you had given him. At the time, you had quickly scrambled and chose the first name that came to mind. Granted, Joey Potter was in the same school as you so you weren’t too worried about him finding out about either of you seeing as he was from Boston Bay. But as you had talked with him more and more, you really wished you hadn’t given him any name but your own. Even if you were beyond terrified; you felt bad for lying to him.

Why should it matter, right? He was a volunteer counselor for a teen helpline at another college. Why would you care what this one person thought out of you?

Well, unbeknownst to him, you had seen him once and you knew who he was. Thanks to Joey and Audrey’s friendship with Jen, you had come to hear quite a bit about the cute tall guy whose voice made your heart rate speed up way too fast. Jen had even invited him out to a house party and that was when you saw him for the first time. Your nerves got to you and you bounced before one of your friends could make an introduction. Partly because you were afraid he would recognize you from your voice and immediately put a face to the name and possibly be disappointed or worse: he’d know you lied to him. So you avoided him at all costs — well, in person.

It wasn’t like you had planned for this to happen, where you would call a helpline weekly just to speak to a certain boy. That’s not how this started at all.

When you got to Worthington, you were homesick, overwhelmed, and overall terrified. While you eventually eased into the college student lifestyle and Boston was now home, you never really got past the overwhelmed feeling, and terrified had dialed down to being anxious all the time: anxious that you would mess up, anxious that you would fail, anxious that your future wouldn’t turn out the way you planned — all of it. There were days you felt like you were just scraping by, barely making a passing grade (though your final grade usually proved you wrong), and you felt like you were some sort of imposter who was soon to be found out and didn’t really belong. Meeting Joey and her roommate, Audrey Liddell, who lived down the hall from you, helped some, and their introducing you to their group of friends helped even more. But there were still times that you just felt…tightly wound and about to snap. As if you had too many balls in the air and you were about to trip, and all the balls would fall to the ground.

So when Jen mentioned to the group about some guy wanting her to join a teen helpline for the college, you quietly paid attention. She laughed it off — his approach, not the helpline — and she didn’t think she would be right for it so that was that. While everyone else began to talk and laugh about another topic, the wheels in your head slowly started to turn inside your head. A helpline where you could remain anonymous and talk to someone who would listen and could possibly even help. You knew your school most likely had one of those but you wouldn’t even dream of risking it. But a helpline elsewhere where you could talk to someone who maybe understood how you were feeling most of the time, maybe experienced similar things, and you were able to stay anonymous? That you could look into.

After much back and forth in your mind over it, you took the leap and made the call one Friday night after a particularly rough week. You really didn’t think anyone would pick up, it was close to 7:00 and most college kids were either out or getting ready to go out…right?

Before you could answer your own question to yourself, the line connected.

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

You did what any other person would do; you promptly hung up. You stared at your phone in terror. Someone had picked up. A guy. Just when you were convincing yourself that this was stupid and you needed to take a chill pill and deal.

You argued with yourself in your head for about another minute, hemming and hawing over it all. Wasn’t the whole point of you calling to try to do something about how you’d been feeling? You supposed you could always see a therapist here in town but that could be costly, even with insurance. You also had no desire to tell your parents because they would respond the same way they did the last time you tried to allude to how overwhelmed you were when you had returned home for the summer.

“You should be grateful you got into such a great school, Y/N. Most people would kill to be in your position, going after their degree. You don’t see your classmates moping about, do you? Just because they have classes and homework,” your mother had made sure to prick you with that pin of guilt. “Make the best of it.”

“You know what I think? I think you need to get yourself some friends and then you’ll stop focusing on this so much. If you have nothing to fill your time, of course your mind is going to obsess over what you’re viewing as negative. Try to join a club or a social group. They have keggers all the time. I remember back when I was in college. It was party city every weekend. Maybe let loose a little one of these Saturday nights and things will start to get better. And who knows? Maybe you’ll even make some friends.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you mumbled, tossing your overeasy egg onto its side with your fork, your eyes trained on your plate. You knew he was just trying to help — they both were — but their attitude seemed to imply that you could simply hit an off switch somewhere and you’d stop feeling so overwhelmed. If only.

It wasn’t like you hadn’t tried to take their advice. You had gone to some frat party and it had been one of the worst experiences of your life. You weren’t a big drinker and you weren’t really a party person in general. You didn’t really recognize anyone from your classes or your dorm and the music was so loud, it seemed like a ridiculous notion to try to approach someone and start a conversation. Not something you were very good at anyway. You had no idea how to play the drinking games you saw, other than what you’d seen on TV, and you didn’t want to do something to mess up anyone’s scores if you didn’t do it right. Then some hulk of a guy accidentally knocked into you, deluging you in beer, and he was so drunk, he didn’t even apologize, just kept on going. After about an hour (and the unintended beer bath), you decided to call it quits.  

That night, you had gone back to your dorm room which was blissfully empty, taken a hot shower, and then sobbed into your pillow. So much so that when a drunken Audrey accidentally stumbled into your room, she saw your tear-stained face when your head snapped up and immediately asked what was wrong and why you were crying in her room of all things. Despite the back and forth over whose room it actually was and her drunken state along with the slurring of her words, you two actually kind of hit it off. Before long she had you laughing, something you felt like you hadn’t done in some time. She passed out in your roommate’s bed, much to your roommate’s chagrin, but when Audrey’s boyfriend and roommate came to get her the next morning, you figured that had been it. Your one social interaction with someone who didn’t look at you as an unwanted intruder every single day (like your roommate) or like you were some loner weirdo (like most of your classmates). You knew that Audrey would probably either ignore you the next time she ran into you or she wouldn’t remember you at all. 

Boy, had you been wrong. The day after her hangover, she had been knocking on your door, smiling and telling you that you were going out with her for the night. Just like that. She introduced you to her roommate, Joey, and their group of friends. You had been inducted into their group of friends, just like that.

Eventually, Jen mentioned the helpline that one night and now here you were, staring at the phone as if it was about to come to life and do a dance or something. You waited a few more minutes, deciding you’d try again and hopefully get someone else. There couldn’t be only one person answering phones at a helpline, could there? That would make for some backed up phone traffic and not a good look for a helpline at all. Maybe you’d be lucky and the guy would have already had another caller he was speaking to so another counselor would have to pick up.

When the clock turned to 7:11, you slowly picked up the phone, took a deep breath, and dialed the number again. You began to jiggle your leg as you waited for the line to connect.

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

Oh crap. You froze.

“Hello?”

What did you do? You wanted to hang the phone up again but you were unable to. 

“Hello?” He asked again.

No. You were going to be a mature adult about this and answer him. Just as soon as you could breathe. You covered the mouthpiece with your hand and exhaled a breath.

“Look, if you’re in trouble or can’t talk, just hit a button. Any button will work.” A minute passed while you were trying to breathe, getting ready to talk. “If you don’t have a crisis and you’re not calling to speak to someone here, then I think you should hang up and let other people who need us call in. No use in tying up the phone lines.”

Another minute passed. You really were trying your hardest to get words out but your chest was tight and you felt like you couldn’t breathe. Your heart was racing yet you were frozen. This happened sometimes but usually you were by yourself, not with someone waiting for you to speak on the other end of the phone line. It also happened a couple of times while you were out with your friends, but usually you hid out in a bathroom stall until it passed and then you left to go back to your dorm with the excuse of a test the next day or a project due, whatever you could come up with on the fly. You didn’t understand why it was happening to you right now, though.

“Alright, I’m going to hang up now.”

You smashed a key on your phone so fast that you heard a loud annoying sound in your ear. Immediately, the guy’s tone changed. 

“Okay, I’m here. If you’re in trouble, hit the key again. If you’re not but can’t talk at the moment, don’t hit it.”

You didn’t hit any more keys and gasped for air that just wasn’t coming.

“Good. I’m glad you’re okay. Is someone in the room with you and that’s why you can’t talk? If so, hit the key again.” 

You moved over to your bed and laid down. That was the fastest way to get your body to relax when you had the option you’d found out.

“Okay, so you’re alone but you can’t talk but you’re not in trouble. Can you just try to say one word or make a sound so I know you’re really okay?” 

You removed your hand from the mouthpiece. “T-Trying,” you rasped out. Holy crap, this was a bad episode you were having. You were completely mortified. Perhaps you really should hang up. You were worried, though, that now he might notify someone or think you really were prank calling the helpline. Either way, you were bound to get in trouble and even more embarrassed, and that just made your chest tighter.

“Okay. That’s good. I’ll take that. Do you have asthma or something similar?” 

Great. That’s how bad you’d sounded; he thought you might actually have some sort of breathing issue. Well, technically, you were struggling to breathe right now so it made sense that he would think that but if he only knew the actual answer was something that was beyond ridiculous and couldn’t be explained away as something as serious as asthma. 

“No,” you whispered, rubbing at the spot in your chest where a mix of discomfort and a heavy-rock-feeling sat. 

“And you’re sure you don’t need to go to the hospital to get checked out?” He sounded concerned now. 

“No,” you repeated, staring up at your ceiling, your vision blurring with building tears. All you wanted to do was give this helpline thing a shot since nothing else seemed to be working, and here you had gone and made it so much worse. On top of that, you were frustrated that you couldn’t even do something as simple as answer a person when they said hello on a phone call that you made to them. What was wrong with you? 

“Okay. That’s good. Why don’t I talk for a minute so you can relax?” A tear slipped down your cheek when you realized he must have heard your heavy exhales over the phone. “Like I said before, my name is CJ. I’ve been with the helpline for a while now. I’m here four days a week. I try to schedule shifts around my classes and pick up a few extra when I’m able. Before you called, I was doing some reading for my Philosophy class. It’s not my major but I had to take another humanities course. It was that or religion so…philosophy it was.”

You closed your eyes and focused on his voice. It was actually very soothing and it was helping.

“Between you and me, I’m not the best student.” Your eyes opened and you stared at the ceiling, listening intently. “I mean, I do okay in terms of grades, but I’m not exactly a frequent flier on the Dean’s list.” He chuckled and after a moment, he asked, “How about you?”

You swallowed, feeling the slightest bit of easing up on your chest, almost if it was allowing the words through. “I do okay.” You didn’t sound as raspy as before but you still had a faint wheeze at the end. You were coming out of this, slowly but surely.

“That’s good. College sure isn’t easy, by any means. When midterms roll around, I always get a little more stressed. I usually have to blow off some steam to keep it all balanced, you know? Or else I get easily overwhelmed. I have to remind myself to take it one class at a time, one day at a time. But easier said than done sometimes, right?”

“Right.” You knew what he was doing but since it seemed to be helping, you played along. He was getting to the heart of the issue while also giving you time to come back down. You’d only been on the phone with him for close to ten minutes and already you felt much better than you had when the call started. 

“How are you feeling? Any better?”

“A little.” 

“Good.” He sounded genuinely pleased. “Is my being the one to talk helping any?”

“Actually…yeah,” you breathed out. 

“Does this happen a lot?”

You bit at your lip, not really wanting to admit it, but you had called for this very reason, hadn’t you? “Yeah.”

“Around midterms or anytime?”

“Anytime.”

“Even when you’re not in school?”

“Sometimes,” you whispered. “But mostly when I’m here.”

“So school related then?”

“Kind of.”

He was quiet for a moment and you wondered if you had said something wrong or if he was looking instructions up in a pamphlet or something for this sort of thing. 

“Hey, did you see Phantom Menace when it came out last year?”

That caught you off guard. You hadn’t expected to switch gears so quickly. “Um, no?”

“You’re not a Star Wars fan, I take it?”

He didn’t sound disappointed so you chalked that up to being a good thing. Most guys you’d met either were completely into Star Wars or weren’t into it at all. “I don’t know if I’d call myself a fan but I’ve seen the original movies.” 

“Uh oh, you’re not one of those prequel snobs, are you?” He teased.

“No? I just saw the trailer and I wasn’t interested.”

“Well, a buddy of mine and I went to see it when it came out. The theater was packed. I’m talking bursting at the seams.” A small smile started to creep onto your face at his energy. “And when the lights went down and the opening credits started rolling and the music started up, everyone was cheering and clapping. It was pretty awesome. My buddy ended up loving it. He’s the biggest Star Wars fan you’ve ever met.” A moment later he asked, “So besides anything in a galaxy, far far away, have you seen any other movies that came out?”

“I went to see The Green Mile. My, uh, my dad is a big Tom Hanks fan and a Stephen King fan so he really wanted to go.”

“And you?”

“I liked it. Though it was sad.” 

“I didn’t see it yet but I got the feeling that it was going to be a bit of a heavy one.”

“It was, but it was worth it.” You noticed then that you were talking to him normally, you were breathing normally, your chest was still a little tight but that was to be expected, and you were sitting up with your back to the wall. You had gotten through your latest episode and this CJ had helped. Perhaps there was something to this helpline thing after all.

“I’m definitely going to check it out then. Thanks.” 

“You’re welcome.”

Almost as if he had heard your thoughts, he then said, “You sound a lot better than earlier. Hopefully, you’re feeling better, too?”

“Um, yeah.” You anxiously tucked your hair behind your ear. “Thanks for earlier, by the way. You know, being patient…”

“Of course. That’s what I’m here for.”

“Right.”

“So, you feel up to telling me what’s going on and why you called tonight or did you want to talk about something else?”

You bit at your thumbnail, unsure. “I feel bad. I’ve taken up so much of your time already.” You glanced at the clock and saw that you had been on the phone with him now for almost half an hour. 

“Don’t worry about the time and I don’t want you feeling badly.” He sounded completely genuine when he said it and it made you feel a little bit better about monopolizing his time like this. “This is why I’m here. So, if you want to talk, I’m here to listen.”

You still weren’t certain you should take him up on his offer. “Are you sure? What if there’s someone else who needs to call in who is having an actual crisis and you’re stuck on the phone with me? I would feel bad if they didn’t get to talk to you when they needed to because of me.”

“I’m not the only one here so if someone else does call in, they’ll speak to one of the other counselors who can help them. While we’re on the subject, what you’re experiencing is just as valid as what anyone else might be experiencing. I’m not stuck on the phone with you, I want to be talking with you and try to help you in any way I can. And yes, I’m sure.”

You contemplated it, turning it over and over in your brain. This was why you called. This was why you decided to give the helpline a try, to speak to a stranger who would listen and possibly be able to help you and if not, at least maybe understand where you were coming from. If he was willing (and he had been helpful so far), then why not?

“Would it help if I promise not to make any more Star Wars references?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Tremendously.” 

“Deal,” he laughed. You liked the sound of his laugh; it was warm, inviting, and put you instantly at ease. This CJ seemed to know what he was doing and you could now see why people called in to speak to him and other counselors like him. 

You nervously licked your lips and decided to take the plunge. You told him everything. You told him about how it started when you began college, how the classes and workload immediately overwhelmed you. How you struggled to keep from drowning in assignments and tests and projects and papers. How you started to develop these episodes and how badly you felt during them. How you had tried to talk to your parents but they just didn’t seem to hear you, dismissing it as an issue that would be resolved by you being more outgoing and feeling more grateful that you had such an educational opportunity when many didn’t. How you could be in a room full of a hundred people and still feel completely alone, especially when an episode kicked in. You’d even told him about your failed attempt at attending the frat party. He had rarely talked, giving you the floor, but he had interjected a couple of times to either support you or make some helpful suggestions. Other than that, he just listened. By the time you finished, you felt like you had told him your whole life story, but you had to admit that you felt a lot better once you got it all off your chest, which incidentally, was feeling lighter. And this time, someone listened and actually heard you. That made all the difference.

You glanced at the clock for the first time in a long time and noted it was 10:16. Your eyes widened and your jaw dropped, your cheeks immediately heating up. Had you really been talking nonstop for over three hours? “I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize it was so late. I should let you go so you can speak to other callers.”

“My shift ended fifteen minutes ago actually.”

Your heart stopped and however much better you’d been feeling, felt like it went right down the drain. How could you have been so self-absorbed and only concerned with your problems that you’d talked his ear off and used up his whole shift? Not one other person got to talk to him tonight and you didn’t even go to that school. Seriously, how selfish were you? “I-I’m so, so sorry. You should have stopped me or told me there was a time limit per call.” You were full on babbling now. “I didn’t mean to— I am so beyond sorry. I’m going to let you go. Thank you so much for your help and I hope you have a good rest of your night. Don’t worry. I promise I won’t call again. Good night.”

You went to hang up the phone when you heard loudly, “Please don’t hang up.”

You put it back to your ear, your brows drawing together in confusion. “But you said your shift was over.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. “But that’s okay. If I wanted you to stop talking, I would have said something. And did I ask you to stop?”

“Well, no, but—”

“Then I didn’t want you to stop talking. It seems like there’s a lot on your plate at the moment or else you wouldn’t have called, right?”

“Okay, yeah. But—”

“So it’s good that you called and I’m glad I was able to help. And for the record, there’s no time limit on a call.” Someone said something to him in the background and he quietly responded though you couldn’t hear what he said. “I’m actually gonna get going because my replacement is here and they don’t have another place to sit.” 

“Right. Of course. Again, sorry.”

“But,” he continued. “I’m going to be here Monday afternoon around 2 so if you want to call back then we can talk again.”

“I have class then.” You truly did but even if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be calling him back. You had taken up enough of his time.

“I’m here until 6:00 that day.”

“I have a study session after that class.” Okay, maybe that was a lie. “But I appreciate the offer. Thank you and have a good—”

“I’m back on again next Friday. Same time. Why don’t you call me then if you’re free?”

“I appreciate it, CJ, but don’t worry. If I need the helpline again, I’ll call, but you helped me a lot tonight and I feel better so…I won’t need to call. Again, I’m sorry I monopolized your shift.”

“Do me a favor and call me again anyway, even if you are feeling better. I’d like to check in with you and the only way I can do that is if you call me back.”

“Right. Being anonymous and all,” you mumbled. Thank God for that. You didn’t think your embarrassment at talking his head off for over three hours while you complained about your life would ever go away.

“Yeah. So, please, if you can call me next week, same time, even if you just tell me you’re feeling better and hang up. That’s all I ask.”

You supposed you could do that, after he’d generously taken the time to hear you out, after he’d helped you through your episode. “Okay.”

“Friday, 7:00. Promise me.”

“I promise,” you whispered.

And so had begun the tradition of you calling him every Friday night at 7:00. You hadn’t intended for that to happen, honestly. But each time you would talk to him, ranging in times from twenty minutes to an hour and a half (you refused to ever get near that three hour mark again, no matter what he said), he would always ask you to call him back the following week, making you promise that you would. Over time, you noticed that your overwhelmed feeling had lessened considerably (though not completely gone) and instead of having an episode (or panic attack as CJ called them) twice weekly, they had now diminished to one every couple of weeks. And even then they weren’t as bad as they had been, thanks to the techniques CJ suggested you try using. Things had gotten better for you and you had to admit, the helpline definitely was a useful service for students, though for your own personal experience, you attributed a lot of that to CJ.

Speaking of which, that was how you two began to get to know one another, moving from strictly counselor and caller into a tentative friendship. When initially speaking to him, he began to feel like a friend you were just catching up with on how your past week had been, and then it actually sort of became that. He started to tell you more details about himself and now you knew what type of music he liked, what he was majoring in, where he had grown up, and why he had joined The Stand. He had even shared his backstory with you and why he didn’t drink when you told him how uncomfortable college parties made you in general. The conversation was no longer one-sided and you’d come to like it that way.

Until the day came when he asked your name. 

“My name?”

“Well, yeah, so I know what to call you. It feels weird calling you “you” all the time,” he laughed.

“Um…” You were practically crapping bricks. You didn’t expect this.

“Just your first name. You’ll still be anonymous,” he reassured. “It could be a nickname if you want. Or your middle name. Just something.”

You ran over it in your mind. What if he still somehow managed to find out who you were if you gave him only your first name? Sure, you weren’t going to the same schools, but what if somehow someway…? Plus, your friends weren’t exactly fans of CJ right now. Apparently, Jen had a major crush on him but her hopes were dashed when he told her he didn’t date (something he had told you long before you heard it via your friends) and then hooked up with Audrey the same night. You hadn’t been there that night, opting to stay in and study for a huge test you had coming up in your Lit class, and after hearing that not only had CJ been present but also what happened, you were glad you had made that decision. Audrey and Joey were on the outs thanks to the events of that night and now so were Jen and Audrey once it was revealed that CJ and Audrey had slept together, right before Pacey punched his face in. 

When that Friday rolled around, you almost didn’t call him. You were angry and hurt yourself. Angry because his careless actions had hurt more than one of your friends, and hurt because truth be told, you had started to crush on him yourself from afar. You trusted him with the details of your life, very personal details (without giving specifics obviously), and he’d helped you. How could he be this helpful, compassionate guy working at a helpline but turn out to be this scummy, advantage-taking, selfish player? You couldn’t reconcile in your head the CJ you were getting to know with the CJ your friends saw.

“That’s just the thing, Y/N,” Jen told you when you wondered aloud how a helpline counselor could do something like he had with your friends. “Most people who go into those positions to help other people are usually a thousand times more screwed up than the people they’re helping. Audrey’s been hurting, as you know, and she’s been acting out and he saw an opportunity. Case closed.” But it wasn’t case closed for you. Not by a mile. You wanted answers, but how could you get them while remaining anonymous?

So that following Friday at 7:00, as you angrily punched in the helpline number, you had no idea how you would do it but you were determined to get them. And if you didn’t like what you heard, then this would be your last call and you would close the book on CJ and your budding friendship for good.

It caught you off guard, though, when you heard a different voice this time.

“Hello, Helpline. This is David.”

You nearly hung up. You knew David; he was starting to hang out with your group more and more, especially Jack. What if he recognized your voice?

“Hello?”

You forced yourself to ask the burning question on the tip of your tongue, albeit with a slightly higher pitch of voice. “Hi, is CJ there?”

“No, I’m sorry.” You covered the mouthpiece with your hand and let out a sigh of relief. Whether it was because David didn’t recognize you or you didn’t have to confront CJ right this second, you couldn’t be sure. Probably a bit of both. “He called out sick and asked me to fill in for him. He should be back next week, though.”

“Oh, okay. I’ll call then. Thank you.” You quickly hung up before he could ask you anything else.

The next Friday you called, you got CJ.

“Hey,” he greeted, sounding relieved when he heard your voice. “How are you?”

“I’m okay.” You were standing in your dorm room, staring out the window and watching the rain, your arms crossed. You weren’t as angry as last week, the extra time allowing you to let a cooler head prevail, but you still wanted answers. “How are you?”

“Honestly? I’ve been better.”

“I’m sorry. I know you were sick last week. Has it not gotten any better?”

“Uh, yeah, I’m sorry about that. I was feeling lousy and just needed to take a day, you know?” And he didn’t need to be parading around a still-healing black eye that might prompt questions, you bet. 

“I get that.”

“God, I wish I had your number outside of this so I could call you.” Your jaw tightened. Perhaps your friends were right; there was a whole other side to him. A side you didn’t really want to get to know. “I really could’ve used a friend to talk to.”

You unclenched your jaw when you realized he wasn’t hitting on you and when you thought about it, he sounded genuinely miserable and he never had in any of your previous conversations, even when your friendship formed. It was unlike him, or at least the CJ you had gotten to know. Just like this behavior your friends had told you about sounded unlike him. “Well, I’m here now, if you want to talk.”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to make this about me. You called in to talk, not to hear about my problems,” he laughed, sounding nervous. That was a first.

“I’m sure. What are friends for?”

He told you everything while not naming anyone. He didn’t hold back anything and you realized that while he didn’t know who you were, he was giving you the side that had been missing from the story your friends told you: his side. Every side has a story after all. He admitted he had messed up big time. He had hurt Jen (or Blondie as he called her), he had been an ass to Pacey (or The Guy Who Punched My Face) when he had no right to be, and he should have never hooked up with Audrey (or The Girl That Came Out of Nowhere). Apparently, Jen had said to him the same thing she said to you and it got him thinking, along with some things Audrey had said. He felt like a huge jerk and all he wanted to do was keep his head down and move forward, get back on the right track that his life had been headed in. You stayed silent as he talked and before you knew it, the clock read 9:47. 

“Your shift is over soon,” you whispered once he was done.

“Yeah, but I still have a few minutes. So what do you think? Am I a complete jackass or what?” He let out another nervous chuckle.

You briefly pressed your lips together as you thought of how best to answer that. In the end, you were as honest as you could be without giving yourself away. “I think we all make mistakes sometimes. But as long as we recognize them, apologize to those we’ve hurt, and try to do better, then that’s all that matters. So no, not a complete jackass.” 

This time when he laughed, it sounded relieved. “Thanks.”

“Of course. That’s what I’m here for,” you repeated his words back to him, teasing him slightly.

A moment of silence passed between you before he asked, “Will you call again next week?”

That made you do a double take. He never asked you to call the following week like that. Usually he asked in the form of making you promise you would call or he’d tell you he’d talk to you the following week. But when he asked like this, he sounded uncertain, vulnerable. You knew then that more than just his face and ego had been hurt by recent events. Perhaps you were a fool but you believed his remorse to be genuine. 

“Yeah,” you assured him. “I’ll call next week.”

And when you did, he immediately hit you with the name question. 

“Earth to you…” He called, snapping you out of it and reclaiming your attention. “See? It doesn’t really work,” he laughed.

You had to be careful here. Not only because you didn’t want him to find out who you were but also because if your friends ever found out, especially Audrey…you were toast. 

You opened your mouth to give him the name of a classmate that couldn’t be traced back to you but “Jo” came tumbling out instead.

“Jo?”

Oh crap. You had Audrey and then Joey on your mind and it just slipped out. Crap, crap, crap. “Yeah,” you lied. “Jo.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Jo.” You could practically hear him smiling, happy to have gotten a name out of you.

You squeezed your eyes shut, angry with yourself. “Nice to meet you, too,” you mumbled before you dropped your head into your hands.  

So now here you were, him thinking you were Jo from the college he was attending, and you were calling him every single week at the same time like clock work. You had long ago stopped questioning the morality of what you were doing and it seemed that he didn’t appear to question it at all. He was always happy to hear from you and your conversations were more personal now. You couldn’t deny the way your heart rate spiked every time you heard his voice when he picked up the call or how whenever his name was mentioned in passing by David or Jen (though rare these days), you would specifically tune in, listening for anything that had to do with him. You had it bad and you knew it, but it was also a safe crush from a distance and would be staying that way.

You shook your head, snapping yourself out of your reverie and remembered CJ has asked you a question. “I’m good. Really good. How about you?”

“Really good, huh? I’m happy to hear it and happy to be hearing from you.”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Yeah, I got that paper back and you were so right, The Writing Center really helped. I can’t believe I never thought to try it before. Thank you so much for that idea.”

“I’m happy to be of service,” he chuckled. “I’m glad it helped. And the club thing? Did you give that a try as well?”

Your smile dropped. He had been trying to urge you to join a club or a group where you had shared interests with other students. His theory was that if you gave a small group of people a shot doing a social activity you might enjoy, that it might help decrease your nervousness in other social settings. Even though you told him you had a group of friends you regularly met up with, he didn’t think expanding your social circles would be a bad thing to consider. “No? I told you, CJ, that’s not really my thing.”

“I get that, I do. How about this? If you want, I could meet you at Student Activities and we could take a look around together, get some info. No pressure, of course, but you wouldn’t have to walk in there alone. I know it can be a bit much sometimes. I remember my first semester here and I didn’t know where to stick my head.”

You froze. That was the first time he’d ever mentioned the possibility of you meeting in person. Perhaps if you were really Jo from Boston Bay College, you could take him up on it or give him your number like he’d asked you for or call his room number like he’d offered up a few times now so you could talk outside of the helpline. But you weren’t and so you had to decline. “I appreciate the offer but it’s not my thing so I’m going to have to pass. Sorry, but thank you, though.” 

“If you’re sure.” He sounded slightly disappointed but maybe that was just you imagining it. 

“Yep, I’m sure. Uh, so listen, I can’t stay on long. My roommate and her boyfriend will be here in less than ten so I’m gonna go so I can get out of here before I get hit by the clothes hurricane that’s most likely to happen.” It was a complete lie. Your roommate, Stacey, had actually gone to visit her boyfriend for the weekend. You would have peace and quiet and the dorm to yourself for two whole days. 

He chuckled good-naturedly. “I don’t blame you. If you get bored later, I’m here at The Stand until 10:00, like you already know, and then I’ll be back in my room. You can call me then if you want to talk. I”ll be up for a while so don’t worry about calling too late.”

“Oh. Thanks. Maybe I’ll do that.” You weren’t going to and he knew you weren’t going to. You hadn’t the last two times he’d made the same offer and the last two times you’d given him the same response.

“Jo?”

“Yeah?”

“If I don’t hear from you… Call next week, okay?”

“Okay,” you agreed, smiling, like always. You said your quick goodbyes and you hung up, letting out a heavy breath. While he had been urging you to contact him personally, he had never mentioned meeting him before. That was different. And it worried you at the same time. Why the offer now? Granted, he was just trying to be helpful to you, given the context, but what if he began to find other ways to work it in like he already had about your phone numbers? What if he continued to push to meet Jo? 

You shook your head, telling yourself that you were doing it again, worrying over things that might not happen. You would cross that bridge when you came to it, something CJ had once said to you that you kept for yourself as your own personal mantra. You would wait to see how next week would go.

But unfortunately, the call never happened.

You had been out with Jack and David on Thursday night at Hell’s Kitchen, when Jen waltzed in, smiling and taking a seat. Joey and Emma were working and Pacey was supposed to join you later.

“You worked late today,” Jack commented. 

“Training took a little bit longer than expected. We were supposed to be done at 6:00 but then our relief called and said they were going to be late. Of course, since CJ was going to stay, I wasn’t going to just leave him there.” Your ears perked up at the mention of CJ. You knew Jen was training as a counselor and he was the one training her. Jen had begrudgingly forgiven CJ but it was also obvious to you all that she still had a crush on him. While you couldn’t blame her, you also felt for her. CJ told you that he had to make it clear once more to Blondie that he wasn’t looking to date though he was happy she had finally started training at the helpline. He really believed she would make a great counselor once she settled into it. 

Talk about complicated. Jen was your friend and you didn’t want to see her get hurt, but you could also understand if CJ didn’t see her that way, he just didn’t. They were both your friends now and you just wanted them both to be happy, whatever that looked like.

“But then, listen to this,” she continued. “Our relief, this guy named Seth, sees me there with CJ and starts teasing him about how he’s racking up all of these beautiful girls through the helpline, not leaving any for him.”

“Jen,” Jack warned. 

“No, listen. This is good. You’re going to like this.” 

Jack sighed but let her finish.

“CJ laughs it off but then Seth mentions how he has this girl calling him every Friday night, around the same time, and she talks his ear off for hours.”

You were about to take a bite of your french fry when you froze. Your heart dropped down to your feet. 

“And so I ask if this is true and CJ says that we’re there to help everybody, time limits aren’t a thing, and it doesn’t matter how many times a caller calls back or they speak to the same counselor. As long as they get the help they need.”

“He’s right,” David chimed in.

“But then Seth starts teasing him again and asks if CJ can give him tips on how to get dates using the helpline. CJ laughs and says sure. I mention how he said he wasn’t looking to date and Seth says he tells every girl that so he doesn’t have to commit but can still get what he wants.” You dropped your fry back into your basket, trying to ignore the rolling nausea in your stomach. 

“I don’t know about that,” David chuckled nervously.

“He didn’t deny it, David. He just laughed and walked away. Can you believe it? He’s using the helpline to get girls. Talk about abusing the system, not to mention the absolute lack of morality.” You definitely felt like you were going to be sick. “I quit. If that’s what guys like him and Seth are using that helpline for then I don’t want any part of it. And CJ? Audrey was right. He’s a skeevy player. I can’t believe I didn’t see it this whole time.” Jen shook her head. You were getting that all-too familiar falling feeling again. 

“Wait, seriously? Guys are using the helpline to pick up girls?” Jack turned to David.

“No. Jen, I’m sure Seth was just kidding and CJ was just playing along. Nobody is using the helpline to pick anyone up. Everyone that works there knows the rules and they’re there to help callers. How could they pick anyone up, anyway? It’s all anonymous.”

“Yeah, but if they pushed for a date or something… It could happen.” You immediately felt your stomach jolt and like someone had punched you in the gut at the same time.

“It could,” David agreed. “But I doubt it does.”

“He has the same girl calling him every single week at the same time. What would keep her calling like that?” Jen interjected. You glanced away from the table for a moment, not sure if you wanted to hear the answer David would give.

“Is that true? Every week?” Jack asked in disbelief.

“It’s true,” David confirmed. “I actually got her once when CJ was out sick. She sounded nice.” If you could have, you would have given him a smile, thankful for David’s attempt to defend CJ and the helpline and unknowingly you. But right then, you were trying not to hyperventilate. “And CJ appears to be helping her. He said she’s made a lot of progress since they started talking.”

“He talked to you about her?” Jen looked shocked. Oh God. Your chest started to feel tight.

“Only because he was going to be out sick that one day and in case she called and then decided to talk to me, he wanted me to be up to speed in case she needed something. That’s all.”

“I feel badly for this girl. She probably thinks CJ is some great guy and she can trust him but based on what Seth said, he’s simply playing the long game with her. A girl whose trust he’s taking advantage of. I’m telling you, Audrey was right about him and I should’ve seen it.” Jen rubbed at her forehead. It was beyond hot in here and even though it wasn’t crowded, the room started to feel smaller.

“I don’t think that’s true, Jen,” David defended. “I don’t think he’s looking to take advantage of this girl at all. I think he truly wants to help her.”

“Yeah, that’s how it started with Audrey and look at how that turned out.” David dropped his gaze to his food, continuing to poke at it with his fork. There wasn’t much he could say to that though he wished he still would. “And if that’s true, he only wants to help her, then why was he laughing along when Seth talked about her and how she keeps him on the phone for hours? How is that helping her?”

You felt like your feet were locked in cement but your legs were wobbling to and fro. And yet you also felt like a large boulder was now sitting on your chest, making it difficult to breathe. How could any of this conversation be happening right now?

Jack glanced from David to Jen. “Perhaps David’s right, Jen. Maybe he was just playing along. That’s what guys do sometimes. You know that.”

“I don’t think that’s what that was. Either way, I quit.”

Jack and David started to urge her not to quit, but at that point you’d had enough. Your hands were clammy and you felt that feeling on your forehead, too. You needed cold, and air. “Excuse me,” you nearly rasped out and beat a hasty retreat to the bathroom. You could feel your dinner coming back up. Joey stopped you in your trek.

“Hey, Y/N, are you okay? You don’t look so good.”

You shook your head and dodged past her, hurrying to the bathroom. Once you reached it, you locked the door and pushed into a stall just in time. You emptied the contents of your stomach and once you were finished, you made your way towards the sink, splashing cold water on your face. You could feel the panic attack you were having and you tried your best to ward it off but to no avail.

You slid down the wall and struggled to breathe, trying the techniques CJ had taught you. You didn’t want to think about him right now but you also didn’t want to be having this happen while your friends sat right outside. Not to mention, you knew Joey was going to come check on you. You gasped for air and rubbed at your chest. Once it passed, you unlocked the door, made excuses to Joey and your friends, went home, showered, and cried yourself to sleep. For the first time in a while, you’d had a particularly bad episode and ended the night in tears: two things you hadn’t done since you’d started talking to CJ regularly. You felt as if all the progress you’d made was like a house of cards that fell to the ground after one card was pulled out from under you. And all because you’d trusted the wrong person. 

So you stopped calling and instead, spent your Friday nights at the library, studying, so you wouldn’t be tempted to pick up the phone and call to confront the guy who’d betrayed your trust.

A few weeks later, you were sitting on Joey’s bed, watching Audrey unload her closet onto her mattress. Apparently, she was going to rehab, for real this time. She was ready to confront the fact that her drinking was out of control. Joey was helping her sort through everything and handed you things to fold and place in her suitcase. Eddie had already taken one heavy suitcase down to the car, along with a very high Bob. 

You all looked up when there was a polite knock on their dorm room door. Joey got up to answer it, most likely thinking it was Eddie, but when she opened the door, it revealed another guy altogether.

There stood CJ, in jeans and a long-sleeved shirt with a jacket covering his tall frame. Your heart skipped a beat before falling into your stomach but then leaping back into place and pounding faster than before for a whole other reason. You immediately grabbed a magazine from the nightstand and began sifting through it, your jaw clenched and you refusing to look in his direction.

Before anyone could say a word, Audrey groaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw CJ hold up a placating hand in her direction. “I’m not here for you, okay? I’m actually looking for someone.”

You froze.

“I bet you are,” Audrey grumbled.

Joey crossed her arms. “Who?”

“A girl by the name of Jo who lives in this building.”

You mentally cursed yourself. You knew you had let the name of your dorm building slip once by accident but he hadn’t appeared to have heard you so you thought you were in the clear; apparently, he had heard you. Crap.

Joey tensed. Uh oh. You had a feeling this was going to come back to haunt you at some point. Here it was. “Why are you looking for me?”

CJ’s brow drew together. “You’re Jo?”

Audrey was suddenly at Joey’s side. “Yeah, why are you looking for her?”

“Jo is a girl who called the helpline. I haven’t heard from her in a few weeks and I just wanted to check on her.”

Her distaste for CJ forgotten, Audrey turned in shock to her roommate. “Joey Potter, you called the helpline?”

“What? No. Don’t be ridiculous, Audrey.” Joey then looked at CJ. “I don’t know who this girl is but it’s not me. Good luck in your search.” She went to close the door but CJ stopped her.

“Wait, so you’ve never heard of a girl named Jo who lives in this building?”

“No,” Audrey snapped. “Now, go away.”

“Hold on a second. Because Joanna Martin who lives on the 2nd floor isn’t her and has never heard of her. Now you’re saying you’re not her and you’ve never heard of her either?”

Audrey gave him a nasty smirk. “Imagine that. A girl using a fake name calling an anonymous helpline. She probably knows what a sleazeball you are and didn’t want you stalking her. If she was calling the helpline, she’s probably got enough on her plate. Best of luck, Stalker Boy.”

Audrey went to shut the door in his face but again, he stopped it.

“I don’t really care what you think of me. You want to think I’m the bad guy in everything that happened with us? That’s fine. But I’m actually trying to find this girl to help her.”

“Help her into your bed, you mean.”

His jaw clenched. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, I bet it is but whatever.” Audrey rolled her eyes and turned back to you. “Y/N, have you ever heard of this girl he’s looking for?”

Your eyes snapped up to them and all three of them were now staring at you, waiting for your answer. Crap. CJ was looking right at you. Double crap. You shook your head and went back to your magazine. 

“There you go. No one here has heard of her. Buh-bye now.” 

Audrey was closing the door when Joey’s phone started to ring. Joey, who had gone back into the whirlwind of clothes, looked over at you. “Hey, can you get that? Eddie might be calling from his cell phone.”

You nodded and picked up the line. “Hello?”

“Hey, Y/N. Can I talk to Joey? Audrey’s friend, Bob, is getting a little impatient down here.”

“Sure. One sec.” You handed the phone to Joey. “It’s Eddie.” She took it and began rolling her eyes when Eddie was most likely telling her the same thing he had just told you. She came over, zipped up the suitcase you had been working on after dumping more things into it. “Do you mind taking this to Eddie downstairs? He’ll meet you in the lobby.”

“Sure thing.” You tossed the magazine back onto the night stand and grabbed the suitcase handle, picking it up and placing it on its wheels. You slipped your worn paperback copy of your book into the back pocket of your jeans, intent on returning it to your room when you came back up. Now that you knew CJ was trying to track you down and he was in the building, you didn’t feel comfortable having any clues pointing to your identity out in the open like that. 

You grabbed the tail of the suitcase and began to pull it along. “Oh my God, Aud. Do you really need this many outfits?” 

She looked up from her cell phone and gave you a smile. “Of course. Rehab is bound to be drab so I’m going to make it fab.” She shot you a wink and opened the door for you. 

You laughed and shook your head, crossing over the threshold. You made your way to the elevator and pushed the button. While you were waiting, you heard behind you, “Need some help with that?”

You nearly jumped out of your skin. CJ was right there, behind you, talking directly to you. While a part of you wanted to tell him to take a hike, your desire for anonymity was greater. You turned and gave him a wan smile, shaking your head. His green eyes were intent on you and you didn’t care for that one bit. It was like he knew who you were without you even having to say it. Luckily, at that moment, the elevator dinged and the door opened. You went to roll the suitcase onto it when a hand picked it up out of nowhere.

“Let me give you a hand,” CJ offered, not waiting for you to reply and stepping into the elevator. You paused for a moment, considering not getting onto it with him but Eddie was expecting you and Joey and Audrey were waiting for you to come back. You let out a quiet sigh and stepped inside, hitting the button for the Lobby and waiting for the doors to close.

Once they did and you started descending, CJ glanced over at you. “So, Jo, were you planning on ever calling me again?”

Your heart started to pound but you forced yourself to remain cool as a cucumber, hoping he wouldn’t recognize your voice. You arched a questioning brow up at him. “I don’t know who you think I am but my name’s Y/N. Sorry to disappoint.” You turned back to the door.

“The Green Mile book in your back pocket says otherwise.”

Crap. You tried to think quickly. “That’s just a book I’m reading for class.” You decided to channel Audrey, the queen of mean when she wanted to be; perhaps that would get him to leave you alone. The doors were opening and you turned to give him a smirk. “NIce try, though, Sherlock. Better get back to Watson before he misses you.” You grabbed the tail of the suitcase and nearly stormed out of the elevator. 

CJ was suddenly at your side. “I know it’s you. Why are you trying so hard to act like it’s not?”

You shook your head, choosing to ignore him. Thankfully, Eddie came into sight, rushing to get the suitcase. 

“Thank you, thank you.” He picked it up and gave you a look. “About how many more of these are coming down, do you think?”

You shrugged. “I don’t know. She has a lot of outfits. Joey’s got her work cut out for her.”

Eddie groaned and then noticed CJ standing next to you. “Good to see you again, man.”

“Likewise.”

Eddie glanced between you and CJ before walking away. Great. He was bound to mention that to Joey who would most likely question you about it later thanks to CJ’s impromptu appearance earlier. You spun on your heel and headed back to the elevator, punching the button.  

CJ was suddenly next to you. “What happened? Why did you stop calling?” He quietly asked you. 

You didn’t answer him, just kept staring straight ahead, your jaw clenched.

He leaned in slightly, his voice even quieter. “Did I make you nervous by offering to meet you? I was only trying to help. Nothing funny, I promise.”

When the doors opened, you stepped inside and of course, he followed you. The doors closed and your ride up began. 

“Are you going to talk to me or just keep ignoring me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I know your voice. It’s you.” After another quiet moment, he begged, “Would you please just talk to me? What happened?”

You shook your head.

“Something obviously happened to make you stop calling. So, talk to me. I want to make sure you’re okay.”

You glared over at him. “Again, I don’t know what you’re talking about. Now please stop bothering me.” CJ looked as if you’d slapped him for a moment and you felt guilty but then you immediately remembered what Jen had said that night at the bar. 

He gave you a curt nod and turned to face the door. Once it opened, you went to step out when he lifted the book out of your back pocket. 

“Hey! Give that back!” He held it out of your reach, opening it to find the note from your dad on the inside page that he’d written after he bought it for you. Why did you have to mention that in your phone conversations? That was a dead giveaway that yes, Jo was indeed you. How could you have been so stupid?

CJ gestured to the note. “Tell me again how it’s not you.”

You snatched the book out of his hands and hurried down the hall to your room. You would’ve gone back to Audrey’s and Joey’s room, but you were afraid he’d out you to them. Even if they didn’t believe him, you still remembered Audrey’s reaction when she thought it might be Joey for a moment and the latter’s response. 

“Y/N, wait,” CJ begged behind you. “Please, can we just talk for a minute?” You were unlocking your door when he was right next to you. “Just one minute. Please. That’s all I’m asking. Then, if you want, you’ll never see or hear from me again.”

You mulled it over for a moment. You could do one minute, you supposed, and get this over with. You glanced up at him and nodded, pretending not to see the relief that filled his expression. You opened the door and then held it open wider for him to follow.

You saw your roommate sitting on her bed, talking on the phone to her boyfriend. “Stace,” you interrupted. “Can you give us a minute?”

She frowned. “I’m kind of in the middle of—”

“I need the room.” Your tone brooked no argument. You surprised her; usually, you kept to yourself and never really stood up to her if she got mean or demanding. But you were not in the mood for any of her crap right then. You were at your limit.

Stacey scoffed but got to her feet. “One second, babe.” She glared at you, which you were more than happy to return, and then turned it onto CJ as well. “Boys aren’t allowed to stay up here so make it quick. You know the rules.”

You huffed out a snort. “The rule you break almost every other night? Got it, Stace, thanks for looking out.” You practically shut the door in her scowling face. You turned to find CJ’s eyes trained on you.

“So that’s the roommate, huh?” You shrugged. “Exactly how I pictured her, scowl and everything.”

You didn’t laugh at his joke and instead, crossed your arms. “You wanted to talk?”

He pressed his lips together and thrust his hands into his jacket pockets. “Why did you stop calling?”

You wanted to tell him the truth but it also seemed best to just get him out of there as soon as possible. He knew who you really were now and that was a problem. Especially if your friends found out you were the girl that had been calling him every week. Because sooner or later, they would want to know why and you weren’t ready to talk about that or have them look at you funny. You knew they’d be supportive, especially Joey and Audrey, but you also knew things would change. And you weren’t quite ready for that to happen. 

“I’ve been doing better so there was no need. You should know, you made me your pet project after all.” You didn’t mean to be harsh but you were still angry. 

His brows furrowed. “What does that mean?”

“You know. I’m the girl who calls you every week to talk your ear off and keeps you on the phone for hours. The girl you’ve supposedly been trying to pick up through the helpline, though apparently I’m not the only one.”

His eyes widened. “Y/N, that’s not true at all. I don’t use the helpline to pick up girls or try to get dates. I don’t date, you know I don’t. I don’t know who told you that but it’s not true.”

“But the other part is?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Because that’s how your buddy Seth put it, the way Jen tells it.”

CJ huffed out a mirthless laugh, rubbing at his forehead and giving a nod. “Jen. That’s who you heard this from.”

“Don’t even,” you snapped. “David also mentioned how you told him all about me and my issues.” You used quotation marks on the last word.

His hand dropped. “Okay, first off, you don’t have issues, no more than anybody else around here, myself included. Second, I only told David because I was going to be out that one night. I wanted to make sure if you called in that you were taken care of. That’s it. David is one of our better counselors, he’s a friend, and I trust him completely.”

Your jaw tightened. “That still doesn’t explain why Seth would even say anything like that. And you laughed! You stood there and laughed as this guy, who I don’t know by the way, is turning me calling you for help into a joke! Is that what I am? The joke at the office? Does everyone there know how I’ve been calling you every week and boring you to death with my problems?”

“What? No! You’re not a joke. And you’re not—”

“Really? Because it sure sounded like it to me based on what Jen said.”

“Okay, let’s get something straight. You’re not boring me to death when you call, you’re not talking my ear off, or keeping me stuck on the phone with you, or anything else that someone else might have said. I wanted to talk to you. I wanted to be there for you and try to help. Then when we started talking about more than that, I wanted to talk to you even more. If I didn’t want to talk to you at all, if you were such a nuisance, then why would I ask you to call back every week or give you my phone number even?”

“But you weren’t trying to pick me up.”

“No, I wasn’t. I wanted to be available to you if you needed to talk to me outside of the hours I had at The Stand.”

“Yeah, because I was your pet project.”

“No, you weren’t and why do you keep saying that?”

“It’s true, isn’t it?”

“No, it’s not.” 

“Isn’t that what you do, though? Isn’t that why you tracked me down? Isn’t that why you kept trying to get my number and even suggested we meet though the helpline’s supposed to be anonymous? You look for girls who are messed up and try to be their white knight. It gives you some sort of satisfaction, some twisted sense of purpose… That’s what happened with Audrey, right?” Again, he looked like you slapped him but this time, you didn’t feel guilty. You were only speaking the truth. He had told you how much he wanted to help Audrey and how somehow they ended up in bed together and before he knew it, he really liked her and wanted to see more of her. In the end, he’d admitted to you that it might have been him confusing his desire to help her with his interest in her. That maybe Audrey had been right in what she’d said.

You watched as his shoulders deflated slightly and he let out a heavy breath, hanging his head. You bit your lip and glanced away from him, not wanting to see him look so defeated. You had to be strong, you had to stand up for yourself and not let him or anyone else take advantage of you. That was the silent vow you’d made to yourself after you’d cried yourself to sleep that night you found out how you were being used and made a mockery of.

“I tracked you down because I was worried,” he spoke softly. You turned back to find him staring at you, remorse radiating from him. You felt slightly bad for hurting him but you had said nothing but the truth, from his own lips. “It wasn’t like you not to call so I thought maybe something happened or maybe I made you nervous with that last call. Like I said, I gave you my number because I wanted to be there for you anytime you needed me, even if I wasn’t working. So this way you always had a way to get a hold of me if you needed to. I only asked for yours because I did like talking to you and I thought we were becoming friends. I know that’s not the norm for the helpline and it’s never happened before, to me or to anyone else that I know of, but like I said, I enjoyed talking to you. I only offered to meet you at Student Activities that day because you seemed nervous to try it alone and I didn’t want you to feel like that. I would’ve made that offer to anyone that needed it.” He nervously licked his lips. “I do like you but it has nothing to do with my wanting to help you or make sure you’re okay. I made a mistake with Audrey but I learned from it. I told you that.” He sighed before continuing. “I like you, Y/N, because you’re funny and smart and kind. Even if we didn’t meet through the helpline, I still would have liked you once I got to talk to you, once I got to know you better. That’s the truth.”

He turned to leave when he stopped suddenly. “By the way, Seth is the guy who usually relieves me on Friday nights. That’s how he knew about you calling every week. He always liked to razz me about being on the phone with you since I made him fifteen minutes late for his shift that one time. I only laughed because it was obvious he was showing off for Jen, that he likes her, and I was trying not to embarrass him in front of her. I did end up talking to him later about it, though, and asked him not to mention it again in front of her or anyone else. He agreed; he’s not a bad guy.” He glanced back at you over his shoulder. “I’m sorry this happened. If you call the helpline again and want to talk to someone else, I understand. If you don’t want to call at all, I understand that, too. Just…take care of yourself, alright?”

You averted your eyes, not wanting him to see the tears building in them, and you gave him a curt nod. You only looked up again when the door snicked closed. You pretended a tear didn’t suddenly roll down your cheek and you told yourself that you had done the right thing. Though it certainly didn’t feel like it in the moment, deep within your chest. 

You stared at your phone, pacing back and forth as you chewed on your thumbnail. It had been almost a month since CJ walked out of your dorm room, leaving you more conflicted than you felt prior to his arrival. You had turned his explanation over and over in your mind so much that you had begun to dream about him every night. You had more panic attacks during that time, to the point where you’d finally taken the plunge and made an appointment to see a therapist. You’d told your parents everything you’d been experiencing, making sure they heard you this time, and told them you needed help. Your mother was still annoyed with you but your father was supportive, especially when you told him that you had a group of friends you met up with pretty regularly. He agreed to help with payments for your therapy. 

You were doing better, just like you had been while talking to CJ, and the therapist had even more techniques in her toolbox that she taught you how to use. You’d even opened up to her about CJ and everything that happened with him. She was the initial reason why you were considering making a call that you hadn’t made in quite a while. 

When you saw the clock hit 7:21, you made your decision. You huffed out a breath, picked up the phone, and dialed the all-too familiar number.

“Hello, Helpline. This is CJ.”

You resumed your pacing, nervous, unsure of how to say what you wanted to.

“Hello?”

You’ve got this.

“Hello?”

Just do it already. Talk to him.

“Listen, if you’re—”

“What are your plans for tomorrow afternoon?” You rushed out before you lost your nerve.

 “Jo?” You appreciated him using your fake name. “Is that you?”

“Well?” You asked.

“Uh, tomorrow? I’m free...”

“Would you…want to get some coffee? Maybe?”

“Coffee, huh?” You could hear the smile in his voice. “Jo, you’re not calling the helpline to ask me out on a coffee date, are you? Because that would be a serious misuse of this valuable resource the college provides,” he teased.       

“Oh. Okay. Well, I’ll just wait until Seth is on shift then and call him up to ask him instead. Thanks, though. Bye.”

“Don’t you dare,” he laughed. You lifted the phone back up to your ear. “What time and what coffee shop?”

You couldn’t help but smile. “Got a pen?”

You walked into the coffee shop ten minutes early, intent on getting a table and settling in before CJ arrived. To your surprise, he was already there, waving you over. You approached, feeling your heartbeat speed up with every step. “You’re early.”

“I wanted to make sure we got a good table.” You had a feeling that wasn’t the only reason. The worry shadowing his expression confirmed it. Did he really think you had called him up to ask him to meet you only for you not to show? Then again, you supposed you couldn’t blame him.

“Good thinking.” You gestured towards the line with your thumb. “I’m going to get some coffee. Do you want anything?”

He was immediately on his feet. “I’ll get it. You sit down. You still like lattes?”

You gave him a small smile and nodded; he remembered. 

He returned your smile. “Okay. Here, take a seat. I’ll be back in a minute.” You watched him walk over to the line as you did just that. 

You would be lying if you said you weren’t nervous, but you were taking your therapist’s advice. You were moving your friendship with CJ away from the helpline and out into the real world. You were giving him another chance while also allowing both of you to start over. If CJ agreed to, that is.

A few minutes later, he returned and placed your cup in front of you. You gave him a smile of thanks and waited for him to join you.

“So,” he started once he was settled. “You called in.”

“Only to ask you to meet me,” you pointed out.

The corner of his lips tipped up in a genuine smile. “I’m glad you did.”

“Me, too.” And you meant it. You were happy he’d said yes. “I actually asked you to meet me because I wanted to thank you.”

His brows drew together. “Thank me?”

You nodded and began to tell him about all of the recent developments in your life, including therapy. You also apologized for how harsh you’d been the last time you saw each other but he waved it off, saying you didn’t need to and he understood. He listened intently and his smile grew when you mentioned how the therapy was helping and your panic attacks were starting to lessen. 

“I’m really happy to hear it, Y/N, and I’m glad you’re doing better.”

You bit at your lip, feeling nervous about speaking this next part. “It wouldn’t have happened if you hadn’t helped me the way you did, especially that first night. So, thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he murmured.

Your heart began to pound against your rib cage but you bravely surged forward and kissed his cheek. When you sat back in your chair, his eyes were wide and you felt your face get hot. “Sorry. I just really wanted to do that for a long time. I hope that was okay.”

He grinned. “More than okay.” You felt relief sweep through you. “I was just thinking—”

“I know. You’re not dating, and we’re friends. Don’t worry, I understand.”

He studied you for a moment before speaking again. “I was going to say ‘I was just thinking what a coincidence because there’s something I’ve wanted to do for a really long time, too.’” His hand gently covered yours and he slowly leaned in, giving you time to pull away or tell him to stop. You weren’t going to do either. 

His lips brushed gently against yours and you felt a thrill rush through you at the contact. You had imagined kissing him so many times but the fantasy did absolutely no justice to the real thing. When you broke apart but he didn’t lean back right away, he murmured, “Was that okay?”

“More than okay,” you whispered before pulling him back into you, both of you grinning like idiots before your lips connected again.

You stopped, seeing the front of the building you were about to go into. “Are you sure we should be doing this?” You asked nervously.

CJ turned back to you and gave you a reassuring smile before cupping your cheek and kissing you. “Yes. We should.”

“But—”

“Everything’s going to be fine,” he assured you. “Trust me. I’m right here with you, okay?” He pecked your lips one more time, tightened his hold on your hand, and began pulling you forward. 

“Okay.” You didn’t sound so sure about this and truthfully, you weren’t.

CJ chuckled and led you inside. The Stand office was decorated with balloons and streamers and there was even confetti on the floor. One of the counselors was leaving since she was soon to graduate and a party was being thrown for her last day. You tried not to get overwhelmed at the amount of people filling the small space. It was overly warm in here and you could barely hear yourself think over the din of multiple conversations going on at once. Somewhere music was playing at a decent level. You noted a room in the back where through the window you could see two people sitting, talking on the phone, a closed door in between them and the noise. 

CJ intertwined your fingers and moved you both towards a group of a few people that he was intent on talking to, people greeting him as he passed. You remembered the techniques you had been taught and tried to put them into action while reminding yourself that you were with CJ and he wasn’t going to abandon you. 

He stopped and greeted the group before he turned to you smiling. “This is Y/N, my girlfriend.”

One of the guys laughed. “Ah, so this is Y/N.” Your heart started hammering inside your chest. “CJ hasn’t shut up about you since you two started dating.” You nearly sighed in relief.

CJ shrugged, grinning down at you. “Seth’s not wrong.”

Your eyes widened before you turned back to the guy. “Oh, so you’re Seth.”

Seth beamed. “Aww, CJ, you told her about me? I just knew we had something special,” he joked.

You frowned. “Hey now. Go get your own CJ. This one’s mine.” You winked up at CJ who laughed. 

He let go of your hand to wrap an arm around your waist and pull you into him. “Definitely yours,” he whispered huskily. 

Seth pretended to gag. “Ugh. Young love. Gross. You can have him, Y/N.”

“Damn right I do,” you laughed as CJ wrapped himself around you from behind and leaned down to kiss your cheek.

From that moment on, it wasn’t so bad. CJ circulated around the room to different groups, introducing you each time. With him by your side, you began to feel more comfortable and you opened up bit by bit. At one point, CJ took your hand and led you away. “I want to show you something.”

“Again?” You teased. “Didn’t you already show me something back in my dorm earlier? Twice?”

“Ha ha. No, this is something different. Though there will definitely be a third time when I get you out of here and back to my place.”

“Ooo. You sure know how to sweet talk a girl, Mr. Braxton.”

He smirked, wiggling his eyebrows playfully, and pulled you into a kiss that left you breathless. “Just a small preview for later.”

“A small preview?” You panted. You just loved teasing him and couldn’t resist.  

He rolled his eyes in amusement. “Come on.”

CJ led you over to a desk and with his free hand, he swiped confetti off of the seat. “This is it. My station,” he told you.

Your eyes roamed over the computer, the keyboard, the notepad and pens, stopping on the corded phone. So this was it. This was where CJ had sat on those Friday nights during your conversations. You smiled to yourself at the memory.

You let out a squeal when CJ quickly sat down in the chair and pulled you into his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck to keep from falling, glaring at his laugh. You softened though when you looked back over the desk. “So this is where you sat on those nights we talked?”

“Uh huh. Though I much prefer you here on this end with me.” He gripped your chin between his fingers and turned you to him, kissing you sweetly. You snuck your fingers into his hair and tilted your head to deepen it, not caring right then about anyone or anything else around you. 

You and CJ had been dating for a while now and it was starting to become serious. He had met your parents when they came to visit. Your dad had liked him right away. Your mom, on the other hand, had given him a bit of a hard time but underneath the harsh exterior she was presenting, you could tell she liked him, too. He had initially planned to transfer to a school in New York, which you more than supported (though you were secretly heartbroken). You reminded him that you had done the phone thing once upon a time and you could do it again, if he wanted. After contemplating it, he decided to stay in Boston. 

“Please don’t tell me you chose to stay because of me. I’m not going anywhere. If it’s a great opportunity for you, you should go. I don’t want you to regret not going.”

He’d simply smiled. “I have a great opportunity right here and I would regret leaving.” He’d kissed your nose. “Besides, Boston’s home.”

“CJ, you should go. I’m almost done and I can come visit you. It’s only a few hours’ drive. You could show me things like the Empire State Building or take me to a museum or a play or show me Times Square.” You’d tried to make it sound enticing but inside it was killing you. Everyone knew long distance relationships had their problems and who knew? Maybe he might meet someone new in the Big Apple. But you also wanted him to do what was right for him, just like you’d spoken with your therapist about. You didn’t want him to resent you later on if he didn’t take this opportunity now and you certainly didn’t want him to have any regrets. “We could even visit Jen and Jack, see how her Grams is doing.”

Jen and Jack had transferred to New York. You had been worried to tell her that you and CJ were dating but while she was a little miffed in the beginning, she was more focused on the developing situation with her grandmother who had been diagnosed with cancer. Eventually, she forgave you before she left and gave you her blessing. You had been relieved; Jen was a good person, a good friend, and you didn’t want to lose her friendship. Jack had been worried about Jen’s reaction but for the most part, he had been fine with it. David was happy for you both. Audrey was doing better these days and though she had wanted to know what the hell you were thinking by shacking up with The Sleaze (as she referred to him), she had eventually told you she loved you and just wanted you to be happy. Joey asked you if you were sure when you told her and when you assured her that you were, she pretty much said the same thing as her former roommate and gave you a hug. She gave you a look when you pulled away and you knew that she had connected the dots on who you really were to CJ, but to her credit, she mercifully never said anything. Pacey and Emma had shrugged (CJ had apologized to Pacey at some point after what happened with Audrey and they had resolved things), wishing you well. Dawson…well, you never really got to know Dawson all that well during his brief visits so no conversation needed to be had there really. All in all, your friends were supportive, even if still a little wary of how things were going to work out. You were happy, though. It was strange but shifting from friends into romance proved to be an easier transition then you thought it would be.

CJ laid his forehead against yours, staring into your eyes, as he stroked your cheek with his thumb. “I’m not going without you.” You went to speak, to remind him you weren’t going anywhere, when he cut you off. “I know what I want. I’m okay with my decision. I need you to be, too.”

You tenderly stroked his arm. “Are you sure?” You whispered, worried he was making a mistake.

“More than sure.” He then pulled you to him for a kiss.

“Okay,” you whispered to his lips before kissing him again.

And now you had met all of his co-workers at The Stand and had seen where he worked a few days out of the week. He had offered to bring you several times before, but you had been hesitant to take him up on it, still worried someone might figure out who you really were. It’s not that you were embarrassed that you had called the helpline for help, but your business was your business and you didn’t want to be seen as that girl CJ got himself through the service. You both obviously knew that wasn’t the case but people talked, people judged, and you just wanted to steer clear of both as long as you possibly could. You knew you shouldn’t care what anyone thought or said, just like CJ didn’t; it was something you were currently working on in therapy. 

“So,” you teased when he finally broke away for air. “Is there a switchboard somewhere that you have somebody directing all the girls to you when they call? Is that how I got you every single time I called?” 

He grinned. “Not exactly. I told everybody that any calls that came in on Fridays at 7:00 were mine.”

“You didn’t.”

“I did.”

“Well, how did you know I would call every single time?” You huffed out. “How do you know I might not have gotten held up? Or made plans at the last second? Or got fed up with you?”

He gave you a cocky smirk. “Because you liked talking to me. I could tell.”

You playfully swatted at his shoulder, making him laugh, and rolled your eyes. “It always amazes me that you’re able to make it through doorways with that massive ego of yours. That can’t be how you knew I would call you every time.”

His smirk grew and he nodded. 

“I hate you,” you mumbled. You didn’t really mean it and he knew you didn’t.

CJ pulled you closer up against him. “You have a weird way of showing that.” He inclined his head towards your embrace around his neck. 

“True,” you murmured and kissed him again.

“Plus,” CJ added when you pulled back. “You always said you would call back and I believed you.”

“Better,” you decided. “Though I will begrudgingly admit that I did like talking to you.”

“Like I said, I could—”

“Hush.” You covered his lips with yours and he chuckled into your mouth. When you pulled back this time, you laid your forehead against his, your eyes closed, smiling. “I love you,” you murmured.

“I love you, too” he whispered back to you, lifting up to press a kiss to your brow before you buried your head into his neck and he discreetly snuck his hands under your shirt to rub your back, just the way you liked. 

“Want to get out of here?” He asked you after a few minutes had passed.

“Mmm.” You lifted your head to look him in the eye. “No Fleetwood Mac this time, though.”

He laughed and helped you to your feet. “What have you got against one of the greatest bands of all time?”

“Nothing. It’s just weird to listen to that chorus when we’re about to…you know.” You could feel your cheeks starting to warm.

He grinned salaciously at you. “Oh, I know. Hey, at least it’s not the Star Wars theme.” He snickered at your glare and picked up your hand, kissing it. “No Fleetwood Mac tonight. Got it.” He intertwined your fingers and his grin softened into an affectionate smile before he led you out of there. You quickly made your goodbyes and hurried back to his place where he kept his promise of no rock group music track playing along to your own soundtrack. 

Later, as CJ slept, you repeatedly ran your fingers through his messy hair in soothing strokes as you studied him. Who knew calling the helpline that one Friday night would lead you here? Where you were happy, in love, and doing much better than you ever thought possible? You had gone from feeling overwhelmed by your education to feeling a different type of overwhelmed together. Overwhelming love and affection for the special person in your life; overwhelming gratitude for the progress you’d been able to make in managing your anxiety and panic attacks as best you could; and overwhelming contentment with every single moment, no matter the ups and downs that was best known as life. Regardless of whatever happened from here, you knew you’d be okay and you’d handle whatever was thrown your way. Like CJ had once said, one day at a time.

In his sleep, your boyfriend reached out for you and pulled you in closer to him, snuggling into your side and burrowing into your neck, making you smile.

And to think, you almost hadn’t made that call. You laid your head against CJ’s and closed your eyes. You were so glad you did.

A/N: Please let me know what you think. 😊

[kaleldobrev]

Knew You Would Come Around

Pairing: Michael!Dean x Fem!Reader | Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader

Summary: Michael's happy you've finally come around

Word Count: 1.5k

Warnings: Nudity (but no smut), Y/N is the best actress ever, Michael being absolutely delusional, Sad!Reader

Authors Note: Set in the same universe as Once Mine | Please read Once Mine before reading this one | Some non-con elements but nothing graphic (very G Rated in description) | Y/N deserves an Oscar for her performance | Y/N misses Dean :( | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

It’s been weeks since you’ve been trapped in this penthouse, weeks without any kind of contact from the outside world besides room service, the occasional monster that Michael had invited in, and Michael himself. Michael, the archangel who was currently using the love of your life as his meat suit. The same man who refused to believe that you weren’t this other version of you. There was a part of him though, although you couldn’t quite pinpoint it, that may have been slightly delusional due to the grief that he had faced when his world version of you was killed. A version of you that he loved more than anyone or anything. A version of you that he absolutely refused to let go of.

You tried for weeks resisting him. Resisting any ounce of change that he had tried to make. He wanted you to be the version of you that he had fallen in love with, not who you truly were. Dean loved this version of you, but Michael didn’t. And in order to survive, you played along. Played along with his delusions of you being his one true love. Pretending to actually care when he talked about certain subjects. Pretending to enjoy when he would kiss you. Pretending to enjoy him holding you in the middle of the night while lying in bed together. This was the only way, you had thought to yourself.

Your mind was racing as you watched television, as there was really nothing for you to do while Michael was away. There was relief whenever he had left for the day, but at the same time, you had found yourself sometimes feeling a strange sense of loss whenever he did leave; and you weren’t quite sure why. This man had taken over Dean, the one man you had loved more than anyone or anything — your soulmate, and Michael ripped him away from you, and you despised him for it.

But the more you thought about it, the more your mind had started to wander. Maybe you had found it relatively easy to pretend because it was technically still Dean on the surface? Maybe that strange sense of loss that you felt when Michael had left is because it felt like Dean was being ripped away from you all over again? Then again, maybe you were just starting to become delusional like Michael.

When the door opened, you were instantly snapped out of your thoughts. Show time, you thought. “Hey Mike, how was your day?” You asked him, trying to give him that sing-song like tone he had preferred compared to your actual voice.

“Rough, but making progress,” he stated, closing the door behind him. You turned around from your position on the couch to look over at him, where he was currently hanging up his 1920s style jacket on the coatrack. Progress? What type of progress? You wanted to ask. But you knew better than to ask.

"Well, that's wonderful that you're making progress," you said, getting up from your spot on the couch to stand in front of him. "But, I'm sorry you had a rough day," you continued, as you started to untie his tie, making sure you kept the right amount of eye contact.

"Thankful I'm finally home with my girl," he stated, giving you a slight smile as he watched you carefully removing his tie from around his neck. You almost stopped removing his tie, as the nickname he had just given you had thrown you off, as My Girl was one of Dean's go-to nicknames for you.

Forcing a smile, you finished removing his tie. "Happy to have you home," you lied. His hand moved to cup your cheek, admiring the delicate features of your face. Despite you not being his original Y/N, you were good enough for him in moments like these, moments where he needed comfort.

"I'm going to take a shower," he said, before leaning in and kissing the top of your head. Strangely, you felt yourself slightly melt into the kiss, as it was a feeling that you had missed. Top of the head kisses and forehead kisses were ones that you had cherished the most from Dean. Despite it not actually being from him, you pretended it was; and pretending helped.

You found yourself on the couch again, watching some cooking show on FoodNetwork, mentally writing down recipes that you knew Dean would have liked. Recipes you’d probably never get the chance to make for him “Y/N!” Michael called; his voice making any previous thoughts you had disappear.

“Yes Mike?” You yelled back, muting the television as you did so.

“Come join me,” he said. His voice wasn’t demanding in nature, but you knew he wasn’t giving you a choice in the matter.

You took a deep breath before answering. “Be right there!” You replied back.

Walking into the bathroom, the glass shower was steamed up just enough that Michael's figure almost looked like he was some kind of blur, almost dream sequence like. And for a brief moment, you felt some sort of bliss; as if you were in fact in a dream, a dream where you had walked in on Dean in the shower — something that you had done so many times before. But that brief moment of bliss was fanned out the second the Archangel spoke. "Come on in Sweetheart," he said, opening up the glass door for you. Sweetheart, yet another nickname that you had once loved now made your skin crawl.

Removing your clothes quickly, they fell onto the floor into a pool of fabric. Taking a deep breath, you walked into the shower and closed the door behind you. Upon entering, Michael's back was facing you, his face toward the showerhead. You found your fingers reaching toward his back, wanting to trace little circles — something that you were so used to doing to Dean when you were either in the shower or lying in bed.

But as you were half-way to his back, he started to turn, and you retracted your fingers; looking up at him almost with a sorrowful look on your face. "Glad you could join me," he said, giving you a small smile. You tried your best to give a similar smile back, but you found it hard to, and you knew he could sense the struggle. "Turn around, I'll get your back," he said, trying to break the uneasiness between the two of you.

"Okay," you replied, slightly nodding. Turning around, you felt more vulnerable than ever, hating this current feeling. You felt your eyes close in anticipation at the touch of him. A moment later, you felt a washcloth start running along your spine, just stopping above your ass before it came back up and went from your left to your right shoulder blade.

"You're very tense," he whispered in your ear. He kissed your temple, and again, you found yourself slightly melting into it, again finding yourself reminiscing about all the times Dean had kissed your temple in order to comfort you. "Want me to help you?" He asked. "I know you like massages."

"But you're the one that's had the rough day, not me," you said, your voice sounding a little timid. But he seemed to ignore your comments; placing the washcloth on the small built-in shelf before he started using his thumbs to make circles on your back.

You wanted to resist the nice feeling, but you couldn't. It felt nice having his hands rubbing your back, finding those exact pressure points that Dean knew all too well. “I know this has been difficult for you,” Michael said after a few moments of silence between the two of you; leaning down and kissing your shoulder. Understatement, you thought. “But you’ve been really receptive of me lately,” he said, almost as if he was giving you a pat on the back. “Which is very much appreciated. I’m glad you can finally see things my way.” Again, he kissed your shoulder, but this time you felt your body slightly shudder at his touch, hoping that he didn't notice this reaction.

“Of course,” you began, “like you said, this is very much a win-win for the both of us,” you said, forcing a slight smile on your lips. You turned around to face him, and you cupped his cheek, slightly rubbing it with your thumb. God I miss you, you thought. The feeling of the stubble on your fingertips making you strangely sentimental.

“I love you,” Michael admitted, and you felt as if your heart was about to stop. You weren’t in love with him, there was no chance you could ever be; not after everything he had done. He was simply a monster disguised as your soulmate and nothing more. But you had to keep up the pretending, keep on acting in order to survive.

“I love you too,” you said, and you felt like you had wanted to throw up.

“Told you you’d come around,” he almost whispered, a small smirk on his lips. A moment later he leaned in, crashing his lips into yours.

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[pagannatural]

2.09 Croatoan

-my beloved

-The brothers go to Oregon because Sam has a vision of Dean shooting someone who pleads for his life.

-Sam thinks Dean is violent and out of control because of his grief but he’s actually violent and out of control because he’s losing his mind over Sam.

-Sam looks very Scared Little Brother when they realize the town has no phone signal. He stands really close to Dean. Sam is right. I forgot how scary this episode is.

-Sam hesitates to kill the son who had the mom tied up, and Dean berates him. Dean calls the son a “monster” and Sam says “it was a kid.” Dean likes a clean line between monster and human.

-Sam is always the one who comforts the victims and tells people everything will be okay, another way in which his role in the relationship is traditionally feminine. He’s the one women find non-threatening. (And he’s too distracted by Dean to be attracted to them).

-When the mom, Beverly, says “one minute they were my husband and my son and the next they had the devil in them” the camera cuts to Sam and Dean. This line could be Dean describing a blood-drinking Sam: one minute he was my husband and my son and the next he had the devil in him.

-One of the armed men blocking the road out of town asks Dean to get out of the car to “talk a little,” and Dean says “you are a handsome devil but I don’t swing that way, sorry.” It’s easy to forget that in the early 2000s, this kind of throwaway joke on network tv didn’t usually hint at a character’s hidden sexuality, it was just a vaguely biphobic little joke. But I do think there’s a reason it’s here.

The Croatoan virus is a demonic virus spread from blood infection that’s not visible just by looking at someone. So we have a little AIDS parallel. It’s also a similar concept to Sam’s demon blood. His blood represents choice and sin and the human mixed with the monstrous. Blood is also associated with family.

Incest and queerness are taboos that have often been conflated in fiction (and in history), and both have been strongly associated with monstrosity—think predatory sexuality, birth defects, infertility, rejection of the natural order. A desire that’s dangerous and wrong and destructive, that must stay hidden and can only survive in the shadows. The homoerotic incestuous monster hunters are the perfect storm of gothic queer horror.

Whether or not either brother is queer doesn’t affect the plot, and isn’t the point. I can see Dean grappling with being in love with Sam without questioning his sexuality at all. Sam is a category unto himself to Dean, and Sam doesn’t appear bothered about his sexuality aside from his feelings about Dean. But the confluence of these taboos—incest and queerness—with blood is central to the plot of the show and the question of what evil is. Really their love for each other and their shared blood is what saves them, keeps them human.

-Another of my absolute favorite underrated wincest moments is when Beverly is begging for her life from the utility room and Dean asks Sam “are you sure she’s one of them?” Sam barely nods and it’s enough for Dean to shoot her three times point blank. He doesn’t need any more information, just for Sam to nod slightly.

-Sam suggests that they need to leave to warn others of the virus and Dean tells him he has a good point. They respect each other’s input and work together well.

-Duane shows up and the situation becomes very tense. Sam is standing with his whole body facing Dean. In moments of extreme stress, Sam often seeks Dean’s protection rather than focusing on the threat.

-Dean has a gun on Duane with some urgency but Sam says “I gotta talk to you—now” and Dean leaves the room with him immediately.

Sam argues that they should wait and not kill Duane in case he isn’t infected. Dean says “what’s that buy us?”

“A clear conscience, for one.”

“Well it’s too late for that.” Is Dean talking about his guilt over John’s death? Or is this more about his general self hatred around never being enough to be everything for everyone, to give Sam everything that he needs and be the perfect son and soldier and brother and father and mother?

Sam tells him “you don’t act like yourself anymore, Dean. You’re acting like one of those things out there.” Dean does feel lost. He needs Sam to save him so that he can save Sam.

-Sam is so devoted to Dean this season. He spent season 1 gradually giving into his complete trust and commitment to Dean and now he’s been losing him or at risk of losing him in different ways all season. He fights tooth and nail for Dean every step of the way to get him to listen, to talk, to come back to him.

-Dean pushes Sam out of the way and locks him out, aiming to kill Duane. He says “it’s not him, not any more” and “I’ve got no choice.” But then Dean decides not to shoot him.

-When the doctor asks if it’s alright to untie Duane, Dean and Sam seem to have a wordless conversation in which Dean defers to Sam’s judgement, and Sam tells the doctor it’s okay to untie him.

-Sam is Dean’s morality. Dean is submitting to Sam, needing him to help him make the right choice. By doing this he’s also believing in Sam’s ability to stay good.

-Sam says about Dean not killing Duane “you know I’m gonna ask you why.”

Dean replies “yeah I know,” not looking up, focusing on keeping his hands busy making Molotov cocktails.

“So why? Why didn’t you do it?”

Dean looks at Sam with his chin tucked, like it’s hard to meet his eyes. He doesn’t answer. He clears his throat and says “we need more alcohol,” basically asking Sam to leave for a moment so that he can pull it together. He gazes after Sam with this raw, shamed look.

It’s the first of two parallels in this episode to their conversation in 1.19 where Sam says his reticence to date is mostly not about Jessica, and Dean asks “then what is it about?” and Sam just looks at him, implying heavily that it’s about Dean.

The question Dean was asking Sam there was essentially, Why can’t you love anyone else?

The first question Sam asks Dean is why he didn’t kill someone, but it’s also why Dean wants to do the right thing and not lose himself, and the answer is because of Sam.

-After Sam is attacked, he reaches for Dean’s hand to help him up off the floor and then just leaves his hand outstretched after Sarge holds Dean back and tells him Sam is infected. It’s like his muscle memory of reach-out-hand, Dean-pulls-me-up hasn’t caught on.

-The whole time Dean argues with the others about Sam, Sam only looks at the floor or at Dean. He’s not watching the conversation, he’s watching Dean because he’s scared and he looks to Dean when he’s scared.

-Dean says “no one’s shooting my brother”

He’s so protective. He was about to kill someone who might be infected just in case, but when it’s Sam he would simply rather die in a murder suicide and that’s that on that.

-Sam asks for the gun so that he can shoot himself, saying “I’m not gonna become one of those things.” This episode is pure foreshadowing for the end of s5. Sam refuses to become a monster, Dean chooses to stand by him and die rather than kill him. Because of their faith in each other, because they waited, things work out.

-Dean hands over the keys to the impala. He’s not fucking around. He tells the doctor “oh actually we’re not really marshals.” He’s in a truth telling mood, fuck it.

-Sam asks Dean to leave him and keep living, looking at him with incredulity and gratitude and love and fear.

Dean leaving him alone to die or become a monster would fulfill Sam’s deepest fear—left behind, not belonging, because something is wrong with him. But he still asks Dean to go, he throws a fit, he tells him “this is the dumbest thing you’ve ever done.” It reminds me of that scene from Titanic, Jack telling Rose “you’re so stupid” for staying with him instead of saving herself.

He says “it’s over for me, it doesn’t have to be for you.”

“No?”

“No. You can keep going.”

“Who says I want to?”

This scene is so dramatic and romantic. Close shots of their faces, Sam looking up at Dean with his eyes full of tears, begging him. Dean tells Sam he doesn’t want to go on without him.

Sam asks, what?

For a moment it almost looks like he’s taking this as the confession that it is, before Dean puts some distance between them and leans against the wall. This is the second scene is this episode to parallel their conversation in 1.19, this time even more closely.

Sam thinks Dean doesn’t want to go on because their dad died, but Dean says “you’re wrong. It’s not about dad. I mean part of it is, sure, but-“

Sam interrupts to ask “then what is it about?” and Dean gives him this look,

this look of love and tenderness, like he’s willing Sam to understand.

This time Sam’s question is Why don’t you want to live? And the answer is that Dean doesn’t want to live without Sam.

I love how this scene makes clear that Sam’s romantic partners compare directly to Dean. It confirms what Sam was thinking about in 1.19, because for these scenes to rhyme they must have been thinking about each other.

-The brothers share a romantic beer at the lake. Sam asks Dean what he was talking about last night in a way that honest-to-god sounds like he’s referring to pillow talk. Dean doesn’t want to tell so Sam keeps pushing, but their tones are teasing and light. They really sound like they’re flirting. Dean suggests that they go to the Grand Canyon.

Sam keeps questioning him, gentle but insistent, as Dean talks about taking a break.

-Where is our Grand Canyon episode?

-Sam looks so scared when Dean says John told him something about Sam before he died. I wonder what’s running through his head. There’s this feeling that people with Sam’s negative core belief often get, which is a fear that something is deeply wrong or rotten in them and that eventually other people will find out. He’s probably thinking that’s finally happened.

[leounderthemoon]

A rant and theory

It’s really long, but I think I make some valid points.

Supernatural was on for 15 years. There have been interactions with the cast, some crew, some producers, directors, writers, etc. due to the ongoing conventions and the existence of social media. Writers will talk about changes to scripts, actors will talk about filming, directors will talk about why they chose a certain angle.

Given that most of the fans/stans do not personally know any of the people involved or personally know anything about the things that are/aren’t going on, it’s weird the way some fans/stans speak so confidently about what happened with SPN behind-the-scenes, production, writing, casting, you name it! 

Especially when it comes to PrequelGate. People will state with their whole chest, that their version of events is absolutely correct. One J is an asshole, and one J is an innocent baby. Which J is which depends on who is talking. It can be either or both. The only thing that all fans who have theories have in common is that there is a definite good guy and a bad guy.

But the Js are still friends. They say they got over it and forgave. Since no one has given any details, I thought I’d join the bandwagon and come up with a theory of my own. One where there is no good guy/bad guy. So here goes.

I fully believe that the story of The Winchesters was not meant to be an AU. It was supposed to take place between 15.19 and 15.20, with Dean and Sam finding out about their parents.  They had to switch it to the AU version because of the leak, a new timetable, and the fact that Jared was no longer available. There is also a recent podcast (I don't have a link) where a writer from The Winchesters said that Robbie Thompson, the writer and show runner for The Winchesters, kind of knew that they were only going to get 1 season because of all the mergers/sales of the networks and studios.

Robbie Thompson said in an interview (https://tvline.com/news/the-winchesters-recap-season-1-finale-dean-heaven-multiverse-jensen-ackles-1234942742/)  “There was the spot that takes place in between Episodes 19 and 20, when what happens to Dean happens to Dean… So there was an opportunity to tell stories there, but that just didn’t work for me because we wouldn’t have access to Sam in that way, in a way that we could easily explain or at least emotionally explain, and that just didn’t feel like it was a story that certainly I wanted to tell and none of us did.” (Underlining mine) They wouldn’t have access to Sam because Jared could not be involved. Not because no one wanted him, but because he just couldn’t.

The reason I believe this is because of the following.

It starts with Virtual Con (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ADYwrZ787a0) held in March 2021. In the video, the question about Chaos Machine projects starts at around 23 minutes. Watch Jared’s face throughout Jensen’s whole answer. He’s nodding along, looking at his screen, and not even showing the slightest surprise in what Jensen is saying. He doesn’t because he already knows. To me, that is the face of someone who already knows what the other person is talking about. Jared already knows which projects Jensen is working on. He knows which alum he is talking about. So he just sits there and lets Jensen answer.  His quip at the end that he will also be acting in it is just that, a quip for the fans.  Because (supposedly) he is bound by a 5-year contract to CBS. He can not legally get involved in Jensen’s project with WB. He can acknowledge that he knows about it, but he has to show that he is absolutely not involved. 

Next is the announcement of The Winchesters in June 2021 by Deadline. There were tweets by Jared that said he was upset that he didn’t know about it and that he wasn’t involved. There was also a tweet directed at Robbie Thompson calling him a back stabber that was later deleted. And, silence from Jensen, because he was unable to come online and address anything because he was on set in Canada. 

Things were set in motion that were not meant to be put in motion for a while. I don’t think Chaos Machine was ready to start casting/filming yet. I think Jensen and Jared were trying to make it work with CBS so that Jared could be involved in the prequel. But those talks weren’t finished, or possibly even started yet. But the leak by Deadline, the WB/Discovery merger, and Mark Pedowitz leaving, combined to put pressure to do the show sooner, while Pedowitz was still in charge. If they waited, then nothing might come of Chaos Machine’s deal with WB once the new owners came in. Maybe they were waiting for Jensen to finish shooting The Boys to get together and talk about all this, but they still hadn't.

And this is what Jared was upset about. He thought there was time before the show would start, so was surprised that it was announced without him knowing. It also explains why he thought Robbie Thompson back-stabbed him. Because he was going to be a part of this show, and now he couldn’t. He couldn’t even say he had been part of the development from the beginning because it would be against his contract with CBS. He can’t even say wants to be a part of it now, because again, it would be against his contract with CBS. He’s upset, because he hasn’t had any communication from Jensen about this going through, and Jensen was also unreachable. So he vented online a little.

Once this narrative that Jared was never involved, and would not appear in it, spread, all of them had to run with it. Jensen apologized for not telling Jared. He said he was superstitious. He wanted to tell Jared, but he didn’t have his phone. That he was on set. That Jared couldn’t participate because he was busy. Etc. etc.

But, when Jared spoke with Jensen, and was (possibly) made aware that the news came out because it was leaked, and that they didn’t have time to clue Jared in, and (possibly) they were thinking of doing the show sooner because of WB, Pedowitz, Zaslav, etc., and that they were still in a holding phase, Jared forgave Jensen.

All of the above explains the inconsistencies and “lies” and “tantrums” and finally the forgiveness, and moving on. 

I choose to believe that neither Jared nor Jensen are entitled assholes. They do not owe the fans any BTS details.

I’m sure people can tear this apart, but their theories don’t hold up either. 

[fivie]

I keep thinking about how well grantaire and anna would get along (before she gets re-brainwashed)... i know you've moved away from spn canon with UMW but do you have thoughts on how your characters would theoretically interact with spn characters?

ah yes, the re-brainwashing was very unfortunate 😔

my main headcanon re. UMW characters meeting SPN characters is that if Enjolras and Grantaire met Sam and Dean, based on Enjolras's personality and him having the sword, they would absolutely assume he was the angel of the pair 😂 Dean would probably commiserate with Grantaire about the challenges of hanging out with a socially challenged angel, and Grantaire would absolutely go along with it. Then Cas would show up and be like 'hello brother 😐' and spoil his fun.

I think Enjolras and Dean would butt heads, but Sam and Combeferre would probably get along quite well. I hope the spirit of Victor Hugo can't see me typing this.

Ages ago I actually started writing a little crossover story just for fun but I found it really weird 😂 I don't know if I'll ever write any more of it so I'll put what I have under a cut here if anyone wants to read it lol

(it is definitely not UMW canon 😂)

Grantaire is in a long-abandoned barn in rural Belgium, idly sweeping up the ashy remains of the shapeshifter that had been terrorising the nearby village in the guise of a local cryptid legend, when Combeferre pops into his mind with a bemusing prayer:

Don't come back to my apartment right now.

Grantaire pauses, awaiting further details. If Combeferre were in danger, he's sure he wouldn't bother beating around the bush, so Grantaire isn't overly worried, but Combeferre has never told him to stay away before and so he waits, curious. A minute or so later, an even more bemusing continuation:

Or if you do, make sure you come in through the front door like a human would.

Sometimes Grantaire desperately wishes that the prayer communication line went both ways. Combeferre feels distracted, like there are many other things demanding his attention and he is snatching at quiet moments to send Grantaire fragmented intel. Finally:

Other hunters here.

With that, the pieces slot together. Grantaire personally thinks it would be kind of funny for him to drop in on a room full of Musain hunters, especially the ones who'd written him off as a drunken waste of space years ago, and he could always erase their memories after if it was going to cause problems, but he supposes that Combeferre's solution of just keeping him away for a while is simpler. He finishes his clean up and is just about to return to Jehan's house when Combeferre reaches out again.

Could use your expertise for this. Come back if you're able? But please be discreet.

Grantaire snorts. He thinks he'll enjoy having a conversation with Combeferre later about why it's okay to pretend that he's human to other hunters, but not to Enjolras or Combeferre himself. He's well aware of the difference and the reasoning, of course, but he does like watching Combeferre wrestle with a moral quandary.

Enjolras is here, too.

This last part sounds like a warning, and Grantaire supposes it is, and one he should be thankful for. He braces himself before flying back to Combeferre's building, going up the stairs with pointed emphasis and hoping everyone in the apartment can hear his very normal, very human footsteps approaching. He opens the apartment door, calling out a greeting, and he steps inside and the world stops.

The other angel in Combeferre's living room stares at him, his human face registering only mild surprise even as his luminous true form roils and sparks in shock and alarm and, of course, horrifyingly, recognition. Grantaire stares back for a wild, world-tilting moment, and then he flies in a mad flurry, grabbing Enjolras and Combeferre and taking them to the furthest side of the room, pushing them behind him. Combeferre, who had just expressly told Grantaire to be on his best and most human behaviour, calls his name in confused dismay, and Enjolras is saying something too, demanding to know what he's doing, and there are two other humans here too, making their own noise, but then—

"Hello, brother," Castiel says, and all the humans in the room fall deathly silent.

Grantaire doesn't answer. His hand instinctively twitches to curl around the handle of a blade not currently in his possession. He can feel the presence of his sword burning in Enjolras's coat pocket and he wonders if the split second it would take for him to get to it will mean fiery death for all of them.

Three thousand years, he thinks. Three thousand years he successfully kept his head down, and then Combeferre goes and invites another angel into his living room—!

"Aw no, brother?" one of the new humans repeats. Grantaire doesn't dare take his eyes off Castiel, but the human sounds exasperated. He also sounds American, which raises many questions but also answers the one of why they are all here and not at the Musain. Grantaire can only imagine the Musain hunters' reaction to Americans descending upon their home base. "Cas, are you serious?"

"He's pretty clearly serious." The other human puts himself in Grantaire's line of vision, stepping between him and Castiel with one hand raised placatingly. He's uncommonly tall and more than broad enough in the shoulders to be considered physically imposing by human standards, but his posture and expression are currently extremely non-confrontational—he looks nervous, and sort of concerned. He looks at Grantaire first but then, clearly finding no invitation in his stony face, tilts his head to look past him at Enjolras and Combeferre instead. "So, uh. Got yourselves an angel."

"As do you, it would seem," Combeferre says with measured calm. It's strange to hear him speak English. Out of the corner of his eye, Grantaire sees him take half a step forward and hisses back at him, "Don't."

"Hey, who are you? Do we know you?" the first human says suddenly. "Are you an old douchebag in a new meat-suit?"

"Dean," Castiel says in quiet admonishment.

"What? It's not like we can tell."

"You don't know him," Castiel tells him before turning back to Grantaire. "This isn't necessary. I'm not going to harm you or these humans. You should calm yourself."

"And if you want to harm Cas then we're going to have a problem," the tall human says.

Grantaire makes no attempt to calm himself. "Are you alone?" he demands of Castiel, whose vessel affects a faintly puzzled expression.

"I'm here with Sam and Dean," he says slowly, and Grantaire scowls.

"I mean," he says, "where is your garrison?"

"I no longer serve Heaven, Rachmiel," Castiel says in oddly gentle tones, as if he's just realised why Grantaire would be so horrified to see him.

"Do not call me that," Grantaire snaps with a sharp shake of his head. "You—what do you mean?"

"I am...fallen." There's a strange mixture of pride and shame in Castiel's voice as he says it. "My loyalties were tested and I found them to lie more with humanity than with our brothers and sisters."

"You…" Grantaire's mind, emerging from the initial shock, starts to piece things together, starts to remember. "I saw you. Last year. You were killing angels and humans. Hundreds of them."

"Hey, that wasn't Cas," one of the humans, Dean, starts to protest, while Grantaire hears twin sharp intakes of breath from Combeferre and Enjolras as they apparently make the connection between the God-Monster they'd seen on screen all those months ago and the mild-mannered man standing before them now.

"Look, okay, let's...We didn't come here to fight," says the other human, whom Grantaire assumes, through elimination, to be Sam. "It's complicated, okay? But Castiel is with us. He's not the bad guy. He's saved our lives more times than I can count and—hell, he helped us stop the apocalypse."

"Did he say the apocalypse?" Grantaire hears Enjolras mutter behind him.

"What did you two have to do with the…?" Grantaire looks at the two strangers properly for the first time and feels a fresh wave of hysteria. There is a lot to be read from their souls that he will unpack later, but most pressingly, he can see who they are—what they are. "You're the vessels." His undoubtedly wild-eyed gaze swings back to Castiel. "You're walking around with Michael and Lucifer's vessels? You brought them here?"

"Michael and Lucifer are both in the cage," Castiel says. "I do not expect they will be coming looking for their vessels."

"And they already know that they do not have consent to take either of us for a ride," Dean says with a grimly sardonic smile.

Grantaire's head feels like it's going to explode, which wouldn't kill him but would undoubtedly be very distressing for Enjolras and Combeferre to witness. He wills his vessel to hold it together.

"Grantaire," Combeferre says quietly—even that makes him jump. Combeferre speaks to him in soft, rapid-fire French that the Americans clearly do not understand and that Castiel politely pretends not to hear. "If he's really broken with Heaven, isn't that a good thing? For you to not be the only one?"

Grantaire casts a somewhat tortured glance back at him, not anywhere near ready to accept the idea that running into anyone from his family could ever be good, before looking inevitably back to Castiel, unable to keep his eyes from returning to the perceived threat in the room.

"It is good to see you," Castiel says, horribly earnest. "I believed you dead."

"Yeah, that was the idea," Grantaire snaps. Castiel tilts his head to one side like a confused puppy, a crease appearing between his eyebrows.

"You've been in hiding," he hazards finally.

"Pretty successfully, up until now," Grantaire says.

"Hey, just like Gabriel," Dean remarks. "You gotta wonder how many other angels flew the coop."

"Gabriel," Combeferre repeats in tones of disbelief that match Grantaire's own feelings. "The archangel? He also…?"

"Gabriel is dead," Grantaire says bluntly.

"Yeah, but he had a good run hanging out down here pretending to be a trickster god," Dean says with a smile that suggests not-so-fond remembrance. "What've you been hiding out as? Some other deity?"

There's an agonising sort of pause, and then it's Enjolras who says, not without bitterness, "A human."

Dean whistles. "That's a bold choice."

"Rachmiel," Castiel says, and Grantaire wants to scream. "Heaven will not hear of any of this from me. You and your humans are safe. Please. I—Here."

He puts one hand up as if in surrender while his blade falls from the sleeve of his coat into his other hand. He holds it up, slowly and demonstratively, before setting it down on Combeferre's coffee table and stepping back.

There is a very strange, very awkward moment where Castiel and his two humans look at Grantaire expectantly, waiting for him to return the gesture and disarm. Finally, Enjolras steps forward. He catches Grantaire's eye questioningly and, at his nod, takes Grantaire's blade out of his own coat and lays it next to Castiel's. Dean and Sam's eyebrows shoot up and Castiel gives a slow, considered blink, but mercifully all three of them refrain from saying anything about the matter.

[winchester-girl67]

Raven Eyes

Summary: Half-Demon and half-angel, the reader struggles to control her outbursts of anger. Until she meets someone who makes her blood boil in a whole other way. She searches for her half-sister, Claire, with the help of the Winchester brothers and finds that, maybe, being human isn't all bad.

Requested by @jesllianaquilesrolonsworld : “Hey can i request a Dean or Sam Winchester x reader where the reader is a Nephalem (half angel half demon) and super powerful because Nephalem are the most powerful hybrid and Dean or Sam fall in loved with her because she is so sweet, shy, etc and in the end they end together? With smut is you want to added"

Pairing: Dean x Nephalem!reader 

Word Count: 11,913

Rating: mature 18+ MDNI

Warnings: not canon, language, mature themes, reverse age gap (kind of), violence/blood (gun, biting, restraints - Claire is tied to a chair), smut (p in v, unprotected sex), brief mention of body insecurity, injury, nightmares, maybe some anger control issues, angst, a little pining, kissing/cuddling, reader has one defining characteristic (raven eyes), star wars trilogy spoilers? (brief mention), mention of Sam and Dean slash fiction

A/N: This really got away from me, especially the word count, lol. The reader has both sweet/shy moments and bold/sassy ones; but I thought it was a good mix of energy for an angel/demon hybrid. Enjoy!

_____

Ugh...

You kicked the empty can under your foot down the dark alleyway. It landed in a puddle with a splash and you growled and kicked the glass bottle next. It shattered against the brick wall at the dead end, scattering into a myriad of pieces that rippled the top of the same puddle. 

Finally, that felt great. 

You just needed to break something. So, you did it again, lining up the next beer bottle. This one, full and unopened. You'd brought it outside with you from the bar you were currently venting behind. 

Alcohol did little to nothing for you, you were pretty sure the only buzz you ever got off it could be chalked up to a placebo effect. 

The bottle hit the wall, popped, and fizzed as it streamed down the bricks. The amber liquid staining a trail to the pavement below. It was somewhat satisfying, but... you wanted to break more shit. 

So much more. 

It was the demon’s blood in you, the urge to create chaos and torment just for fun. Although, ninety percent of the time it lost out to the half of you that was part angel. 

You didn't want to be evil and you didn't want to be good. You were all shades of grey and that was fine because you knew exactly who you were. Sort of. 

You were a Nephalem; half-demon, half-angel. 

Yeah, your parents were a piece of work. Try growing up in that household. Literal definition of having an angel on one shoulder and a devil -or in this case, a demon- on the other. 

But opposites attract, right. 

You never really fit in. As a child or now as an adult. Not with your father's angelic colleagues or your mother's demonic friends. You were one of a kind. 

'Unique. Unlike any other.' Your father would tell you.

'Powerful. A force to be reckoned with.' Your mother would say.

You loved them, your parents. Even if they drove you nutty and pulled at your limbs like some savage game of tug-o-war. Castiel and Meg had good intentions but you needed to stand on your own two feet for the first time.

So, here you were hanging out in the back alley of some highway dive off to the side of some two-star motel. Popping the cork on your own internal bottle of frustrations. The blood in your veins could only be shaken so much before you lost control and that was the point of breaking shit.

To calm your nerves and it usually worked, but not tonight. Tonight was different.

Your -sort of- half-sister, Claire, called you up for some help on a case she was working on. Fucking werewolves. She needed back up but when you arrived you couldn't find her. Anywhere!

When you asked the greasy bartender if he'd seen her and showed him her picture on your phone, all he said was 'I wish I had, damn'. Then he proceeded to shake out his hand as if he'd touched something hot and made a crude face with a little wink added in your direction... you almost ripped his face off right there, but there were too many witnesses.

A waitress flirting with some guy with more hair than a barbie doll and some guys playing pool; one of them obviously hustling the others. He was kinda cute actually -had a nice smile, short dirty-blonde hair and a scruff on his jaw that was way too trimmed to be natural- but you weren't here for that.

You had to find Claire.

You fisted your hands until your fingernails dug into your palms and bleed. Then hissed and watched the skin stitch itself back together under the orange flood lights of the alleyway.

That helped a little. The pain. You did it again, satisfying the demon within and hissing out a breath at the sharp sting each nail made as they buried into your flesh. Then. You breathed in and out like your father taught you. Slow and steady.

Inhale: one, two, three... Exhale: one, two, three...

Then repeat as many times as it takes to appease the angelic grace entwined within your soul.

When your blood was at war it felt like the epic internal battle of a Jedi struggling with the force -you had forced your father, Cas, to watch the recent Star Wars trilogy with you a couple of days before you left to meet Claire and really connected to the Kylo Ren/Ben Solo character and his dilemma of whether to embrace the pull to the light or give into the dark side- but a nephalem didn't have that choice. The only solution was to embrace it all, whatever murky shade of grey that turned out to be. But there were times you still struggled with it, times you wished you had more control over your heart and mind.

Times like now with that fucking bartender. Who even has frosted tips anymore, seriously?! What a douche.

He knew something and he wasn't telling you, you could hear his heart beat just a fraction quicker when he lied.

You let out a frustrated howl and kicked at the puddle, splashing and jumping until your boots and pant legs were soaked. You growled and fisted your hair in your hands and pulled. Frustrated to no end.

"Now that's a losing battle, if I ever did see one." Said a husky voice and you spun around to nothing but shadows behind you at the mouth of the alley.

What? "Who said that?"

"Don't get me wrong, that was entertaining as hell but that puddle's always going to be a puddle." A man stepped out of the shadows with a twisted smirk. "Unless you have the right tools... Maybe a mop and bucket." Oh, he thinks he's funny. You didn't laugh, you glared and he stepped directly under the flood light near the rear door. He pumped his eyebrows once and rubbed the trimmed scruff on his chin. "Geez, tough crowd. Why you so pissy, squirt?"

"Fuck off." Your guard was up.

"Big language for such a little girl. You're trouble, aren't you?" He said with a deep laugh. He fucking laughed. And took a step closer when you didn't respond. "You kiss your momma with that mouth?"

"My mother would rip you to shreds just for sneaking up on me."

Seriously, how'd he do that? You were usually hyper aware of your surroundings... but you were also in your head, duelling it out.

He looked you up and down, his eyes lingering on your wet jeans sticking to your calves. His tongue teased his bottom lip and he met your stare again. You scowled knowing exactly what he was thinking and crossed your arms in front of your chest to obstruct his view.

"You got some fire in you, squirt."

Screw you, pretty boy.

"Call me, squirt, one more time. I. Dare. You." You said through clenched teeth and stepped out of the puddle, bringing you chest to chest with this man.

Okay, maybe chest to chin -you still had to look up at him- but you weren't as small as he made you sound, at least you didn't think so. But one thing was for sure, you were a lot older than you looked, probably older than him... but you were kind of immortal too, so there was that.

You looked near the same age though, for what it's worth, and you felt young. Out from under your parents' -hypothetical for the most part- wing for the first time. No more babysitter.

He looked amused, "Okay, little trouble. Wanna tell me what's got your feathers in a fluff?"

"The hell do you care?"

His expression turned emotionless like a poker face, "Maybe I don't." Then he smiled, "Or maybe, I do."

You knew where you'd seen him before now, playing pool inside, "How'd you do with your little side hustle?"

"Oh, I cleaned up," he smirked, he saw you watching him inside. "I'm Dean, by the way... Winchester. And you are?" He asked, keeping his arms crossed against his chest and mirroring you.

"Leaving," you said quietly and unintentionally shoving your shoulder into his as you walked for the exit of the alley.

Fucking Dean Winchester. You knew exactly who he was, you just didn't know what he looked like, until now. Your father warned you to stay away. Said he was the type to shoot first and ask questions later and if he found out you were a nephalem, that's exactly what he'd do.

"Hold up a second, squirt." He called as he jogged after you and grabbed your arm.

Dean yanked you back and you spun around, twisting out of his hold. You smacked him in the chest and he shoved back into the brick wall. Hard. You always forget how fragile humans were, you didn't spend much time with them after all.

He huffed like the wind had been knocked out of his lungs. His eyes wide and watching you. Yeah, you were strong as hell and that was only ten percent. You felt a little bad for the poor guy but he did ask for it. You clearly wanted to be left alone.

"I told you not to call me that!" You growled, pointing your finger in his face. "I don't have time for this."

"Why? Got some mailboxes to knock over?" He teased and rubbed his chest when you backed off. "Oh, please tell me you're gonna spray paint obscene doodles on the billboard across the street... I'll help. Need a lookout?"

If he was flirting, it wasn't landing and if he was teasing, it was pissing you off. You weren't some teenager tagging billboards, even if that jackass CEO, Dick Roman, deserved it. You didn't know why, you just didn't like him or his cheesy smile, but he'd get his, they usually do. 

"What do you want?" You huffed at him, glancing down at his hands just in case. 

You heard the stories of the Winchester brothers. They weren't opposed to sucker punches, especially with an angel blade. Even if an angel blade could hardly hurt you, your mother trained you to always be prepared, vigilant.

"You were asking around about a blonde girl, Claire Novak, I'm a friend of hers. Actually, more like a big brother and I haven't been able to reach her." He confessed and took a step forward, then another and another until you were the one backed up against the opposite wall of the alleyway. "What do you want with her?"

For a human, you had to admit, he was fucking intimidating. His eyes hooded, nostrils flared and you felt his hand fist the collar of your t-shirt. You could easily push him off if you wanted but the brush of his knuckles over your collarbone made your knees knock together and you practically swallowed your tongue.

The feuding blood in your veins quieted as your heart beat a little faster and sweat broke out across your skin. Your lips fell open and you just stared up at him. At a loss for words.

Was this what it was like to feel... human? Desire? Vulnerability?

But you weren't vulnerable, not physically, your power outmatched that of a nephilim. Nephilim had the inconvenience of having to be half-human where that half of you was all demon. Pure darkness and indignation.

Being a nephalem wasn't easy. Especially being the only one ever known to exist. You had to carve your own path.

You had a conscience about the bad things you did and a will to do good, but nothing was ever that simple. You'd do a good deed to appease the angel grace pumping in your veins but it would always turn out sideways. And when you did something bad -perhaps out of selfishness and greed- you'd feel bad.

Demons had it easy. Do what you want, when you want. Angels had it even better though, their good always turned out good. Despite the fact that not all angels were all that good and not all demons were all bad.

If they couldn't figure it out with one blood line, how would you?

You felt like you were constantly at battle with yourself. But, at least, you weren't human.

Compared to the man in front of you, he was like a fly. A gnat. And you'd toy with him for a bit if he could keep making you feel this way.

Calm.

The crimson waters in your veins were quiet -for the first time in sooo long- and all you had to do was look into his eyes. They were hooded in the darkness of the night but you felt it, his soul staring back at you. You often wondered if you had a soul.

Probably, everything else seemed to have one.

Perhaps, not everything about being human was terrible. It beat the hell out of the internal anguish, always fighting with yourself, always angry. And suddenly you never wanted Dean to leave. Even if your father did warn you about him.

Maybe humans were powerful after all. Maybe, it was just this one human.

You grabbed his wrist above his watch -his fist still clutching your collar- and exhaled over his lips, only an inch away from yours. His breathing turned sharp too and you smelt whiskey on his breath. Peach whiskey. You gave him a cheeky smile.

That was a chick's drink.

"Why are you looking for Claire?" He repeated, his eyes somehow darker in the shadow of the night.

"She's my friend," you lied, continuing to pretend he had you right where he wanted you.

It was really the other way around.

"You're friends?"

You nodded, "Yeah, some people have those."

You kind of wished Castiel had told Dean about you. It wouldn't come as such a surprise then. Maybe you could hide it, though, and tag along to find your sister. It could be fun to watch the brothers in action. Plus, everything was so quiet around him. Even in his intensity and you didn't want it to stop.

"Claire doesn't have friends." He stated.

"She has at least one."

He didn't need to know that you were kind of related to Claire, just that you didn't mean her any harm. Most of the time. Sometimes she pissed you off and sometimes you pissed her off.

"Wait, friend as in 'friend'?" He said as if he used air quotes but he didn't let go of your shirt collar to actually make them.

What the hell else did 'friend' mean? -Ohhhh... good for Claire. But gross, she was your sister. You had flashbacks to reading fanfics of Sam-slash-Dean online. Your father told you to stay away, but you were curious and although it may not have proven for the most serious intel on the boys, the stories were captivating. 

You scrunched up your face and stared at him. You couldn't tell him you were sisters. So, you just shook your head.

Dean laughed, "Huh, didn't know that kid could stop pissing people off for a second long enough to make a friend."

You nodded but frowned when he released your shirt collar and took away his hand. If you had wanted him to back off, you would've made him. You kept a hold of his wrist.

"Let go, little devil."

If only he knew how ironic that nickname was. You were the daughter of a demon not Lucifer but, same diff; it was close enough.

You let him go. You didn't want to, but you did.

"Do you know where she is?" You asked, both wanting to keep the conversation going and needing the answer.

"Nope. Was hoping you did."

"The bartender knows something." You mumbled.

You breathed a heavy breath, letting the anger from before defuse a little as it tried to resurface. No losing control this time. Your parents weren't here to help you this time. No cleaning up any messes. You were on your own. Like you wanted.

"Let's go talk to him, then." Dean grinned and patted your shoulder.

His hand slid down to the small of your back as he led you back around to the entrance of the bar. Every ounce of anger flushed away with his touch and you no longer felt that inch of demon blood in your veins.

_____

Dean wiped the blood from his knuckles with a rag from the trunk of a shiny black muscle car parked in the lot. You stood next to him and watched stoically as he did so. He glanced up at you and mistook your awe for fear.

"I'm sorry. I should've warned you when someone messes with my family, I get-" He started in a soft voice but cut himself off before he could finish. "Just sometimes, things get... messy."

Messy?! He beat the ever-loving hell out of that bartender when the guy hit on you again and evaded all your questions... Until he didn't.

Dean was just as fucked up as you were. He was angry and at war with himself, constantly, you could see it. You saw that look in the mirror all the time. He took the bloodiest route to being good. He was all shades of grey, just like you. And you had to admire how much he cared about the people he thought of as family.

"Don't ever let a man disrespect you like that." He locked eyes with you.

Something different in his gaze this time. Warmer and intense. Too intense, you had to look away.

You never did let guys get away with it, but you couldn't exactly go all super-girl on the bartender's ass either with Dean watching, now could you? Super-girl was a hero, though... You weren't the villain but you weren't the heroine either. Maybe an anti-hero, actually? Like Ben Solo? You could live with that.

"So, what now?" You asked, sitting on the edge of the open trunk next to him. "We go to this Haden-guy's cabin in the woods? Sounds like a trap."

The bartender said Claire had her eye on some regular guy all night but never talked to him. Though, she did leave right after he did. That was the only lead we had since this shit-hole had no working security cameras.

"Exactly, that's why we're gonna get Sammy first." He said, tossing the bloody rag into the trunk and securing the hidden hatch shut after pulling out a case of silver bullets.

Sammy, his little brother, you knew as much about the boys as every other demon or angel. You just didn't know how being around Dean would affect you.

"Where's Sam?"

Dean gave you a half smirk and a little shrug of his shoulders, then he winked at you. And what the hell did that mean?

Oh wait, you suddenly remembered seeing a walking L'oreal-ad-of-a-man, matching Sam's description, flirting with the waitress before stomping out to the back alley to have your little temper tantrum like a child. You blew off steam though without hurting anyone so you weren't embarrassed. That was a win in your book.

"I'll go get him, you wait here." Dean said, cocking his freshly loaded gun with silver bullets and tucking it into the back of his jeans. "Don't disappear on me, little devil."

You smiled, actually starting to like that nickname as you watched him walk towards the motel across the parking lot. He knocked on room number sixteen and waited a long moment before he pounded harder on it.

You stretched out your legs and pushed up from the edge of the trunk but something kept your ass in place. Like you were frozen, sort of, you could only move further into the trunk.

Something was wrong.

You glanced back quickly before Dean could notice you struggling to stand up like an ordinary human. You twisted in your seat but there was nothing unusual in the trunk, then you looked up at the lid.

Fucking hell.

There was a demon trap on the upside of the trunk lid. You glanced back at Dean who was now striding back towards you on bowed legs.

Shit. You twisted your arm above you and scratched at the edge of the trap. Glad that the front of the car was facing Dean instead of the back. 

"He'll be out in a minute," Dean said, rounding the back of the Impala just as you snapped up from your seat and slammed the lid shut. He narrowed his eyes on you, "Everything all right?"

"Yeah, peachy." You dusted off the back of your black skinny jeans ungracefully.

"O-kay," he stared at you for a moment as you shifted from heel to heel, "Get in the car."

You walked around to his side of the car, knowing Sam probably had dibs on the passenger seat and opened the rear door. You hesitated and looked inside, checking for more demon traps.

"Something wrong?" Dean asked and you noted Sam exiting the motel room, he walked towards you as he buttoned up his blue flannel and straightened his jeans. "Don't tell me you're scared?"

"Hardly," you said unconvincingly and crawled into the backseat when you didn't see any reason not to.

"Don't worry, sweetheart, Baby here is stocked up like a tank, we can take whatever's waiting for us. Trust me."

He was cocky, wasn't he, but it made you laugh. He had even more artillery than he thought, with you around.

Dean shut the door behind you and dumped himself into the driver's seat, Sam joining only moments later.

"Uh, hi?" Sam said to you, half turned in his seat.

"Hi," you waved shyly.

He was a lot bigger in person. The top of his head nearly hit the roof and his hair was gorgeous and thick. You played with the ends of your hair, wishing you had less split ends. Maybe you should cut it. Also, what kind of all powerful nephalem still gets split ends?! Talk about unfair.

"She's a friend of Claire's." Dean said, revving up the engine and peeling off down the road.

You didn't know how he knew where he was going. You didn't look at any maps with him. Maybe they'd been here longer than you and already surveyed the area? Claire probably called them too, you didn't have a cell phone and relied on her praying to you when she needed you. She didn't always trust you'd show up and she wouldn't have told them about you.

"Does 'the friend of Claire's' have a name?"

Sam asked his brother and side eyed you.

"Yeah, of course she does."

"And?" Sam inquired.

Dean hesitated and chewed his lip as he glanced at you in the rearview mirror. He never asked. "What's your name, little devil?"

Sam screwed up his face and mouthed 'little devil' dubiously to himself. You guessed it wasn't a typical nickname he gave women.

"Y/N."

You didn't give a last name. You supposed you didn't really have one. Castiel and Meg could never settle on one long enough.

"Y/N," Dean repeated in his deep voice. It felt like wings in your stomach to hear him say your name. "You don't look like a Y/N."

"Well, it's the only name I got." You snapped, a little hurt. You liked your name, it was the only thing your parents ever truly agreed on.

Dean chuckled and glanced back in the mirror again. "You’re cute when you're frustrated, Y/N."

The dork was teasing you. He either thought he was funny or flirting, you couldn't tell which. Maybe both, you didn't like it. It was new territory for you. You didn't often bother with humans, but Dean was different. He was a lot like you in many ways and he was -mostly- adorable. When he wasn't intentionally trying to be annoying. 

You blushed -first time that ever happened- and kept quiet for the rest of the drive. Dean explained to Sam what you were about to walk in on and they already seemed to know it was werewolves so you didn't bother to pipe up.

The woods were dark and the sound of wind eerily howled through the treetops. You'd have shivered if you were scared at all but you couldn't be harmed, not really. Someone would really have to get the drop on you for that to happen. And what else was there to be scared of?

You only worried about Dean. It was nice having him around. You realized now why your father liked him so much. You didn't know Sam all that well, though and he kept giving you ‘off’ glances as if he was trying to figure you out. As if he knew you were hiding something.

Barbie doll was too smart for his own good.

"Here, take this?" Dean said, shoving a silver gun in your hands after he'd parked down the road from Haden's cabin.

"Uh-" you held it between your forefinger and thumb, as if you really didn't want to hold it. You never used a gun before. You never had to and you rather not. "I'm good, thanks."

You tried to hand it back to him before it went off. As if it was that touchy. He just stared at you confused.

"You need something to defend yourself. You have done this before, right? Hunting? You're a hunter?"

"Yeah, totally!" You over sold it.

Sure, you hunted before, but you used your powers and let’s face it, nothing was ever a challenge. Even a pack of werewolves couldn't take you. You could fight and hold your own but you never needed a gun.

But how could you tell Dean that?

You stared at the gun, still holding it in the air between you and he sighed, "Here, hold it like this."

Dean stalked behind you and wrapped his arms around your shoulders. You felt his chest on your back and you leaned back into him. Looking over your shoulder at his face next to yours. He let out a single puff of air, amused, and turned your head forward again with his hand on your chin.

His scruff brushed your cheek as he lined up the gun in both of your hands in front of you. You smelt sweet peaches on his breath again and melted in his arms as much as you could without him really noticing.

"Finger off the trigger. This hand-" he grabbed your non-dominant hand and wrapped it around the other already gripping the gun, "-goes here. Keep your thumb there." He pointed to the switch next to your thumb, "Safety's on," he switched it off, revealing a red dot in its place, "Off. Line up this point with this one." He pointed out the sights of the gun. "Never point it at anyone you don't plan on shooting. Got it?" 

"Got it," you breathed. 

Dean switched the safety back on and let you get used to the feel of it in your hands. You could use this hunk of metal one time, you guessed. 

If a human could then why not? You were superior in every way. Super-powered anti-hero in human disguise to the rescue! 

It was quiet outside in the woods as you inched towards the cabin. And before you knew it, you were inside searching for signs of Claire when you heard the boys bashing around in the other room. Grunting and smashing into things. Glass breaking and shots firing.

You had split up and with no sign of Claire you made your way back to them to help out. Finding Dean pinned by three werewolves while Sam fought off one with another on his back trying desperately to bite his neck.

The pack was bigger than the boys anticipated. And brawling. 

You didn't expect aiming the gun to be so difficult and after missing the first couple shots -hitting the drywall in front of Sam and scaring the shit out of him, which he showed with a glare in your direction and a shout of 'Stop helping!'- you aimed again. At the werewolf on Sam's back and shut your eyes.

You squeezed the trigger fast three times then listened as a body fell to the floor.

Thump.

You grit your teeth together, hoping and praying and peeled open your eyes.

Sam was still standing. Thank granddad. Dean would've hated you for friendly fire. You aimed at the werewolves standing over Dean next and emptied the rest of the clip into them. 

They fell to the floor and Dean fought off the last one as Sam finished off the other. 

Then things were silent again. 

"Holy shit! Good shootin', little devil." Dean laughed and fell against the wall to catch his breath. 

Sam just clenched his jaw and glared at you. 

What was his problem? Did he know you closed your eyes? You aimed better that way anyways. 

"Where's Claire?" Sam grunted and rubbed his neck where the werewolf had tried to bite him. But his hand was covered in blood, "Dammit."

"What?" Dean asked, standing tall and glancing at Sam's hand. "You're bit?... Sammy?!" 

Dean's hands were in his hair and he spun around on his heel in disbelief. Then stalked over to his brother and pulled aside Sam's shirt collar.

"No. Fuck, no!" Dean shouted and punched the wall next to them. 

Then he threw the only lamp left standing across the room. It shattered in his fit of rage and he pulled down the bookcase for good measure. 

You set down your gun and padded over to Sam. Sam, eyeing you the whole time with zero trust in his stare. You popped up on your tiptoes and pulled him down by his shoulders to whisper in his ear. 

"Close your eyes." 

Sam furrowed his brow while Dean was busy hyperventilating in the corner. Rubbing his hands all over his face and scrolling through contacts on his phone, probably trying to find some non-existent cure.

But Sam was bit and Sam would turn if you didn't do anything.

"Trust me for one minute. What do you have to lose?" You whispered again and Sam let his eyes fall shut.

You placed your palm over the bite and channelled your energy into healing him. A blue light pulsed from your hand and Sam hissed. It probably stung like a bitch. But it beat turning into a werewolf and having to munch on cow hearts just to survive.

You wiped away the blood from his neck with your sleeve, inspecting your work. The skin was perfectly smooth like the wolf's fangs never punctured through.

You smiled, finally something went the way you planned. Doing good felt good, when it went right.

"How do you feel?" You asked just to make sure.

"Better, I guess." Sam's eyes fluttered open and met yours. His gaze of hazel softer than before, though still hesitant. "Thank you, I think."

"No biggie. Just a little spell I picked up over the years." You shrugged. You didn't think the boys noticed the lie.

Them thinking you dabbled in witchcraft was probably safer than them knowing the truth. At least for now.

Dean stood up, hanging up his phone mid-ring and walking over to Sam to check out his no longer existent wound. He glanced at you and you noticed his itchy trigger finger at his side.

"You're a witch?" Dean accused as if you kicked his puppy.

"No."

"Bullshit! That wasn't elementary magic, Y/N!" He shouted but still didn't raise his gun.

"Dean, calm down, man. She saved my life." Sam said, stepping partially in front of you. "Just this once, don't freak out how you always do."

Huh, save his life once and the big guy's already on your side. A turn of events you didn't see coming. Maybe there was more to him than just barbie doll hair and fault-finding glares. He knew you were hiding the truth but he didn't seem to care anymore.

"Shut it, Sam." Dean gave his brother a sideways look. "You know how I feel about witches. Blood sacrifices, hex bags and bones everywhere. There's always a price with them."

He gestured towards you and you scowled back at him. Not only a little hurt because you just said you weren't a witch but also because... didn't he feel what was between you, too? Or was it all one sided?

Maybe you should've let Sam die. He'd still think you were human then. You could've hidden that part of you forever. Or, at least, until he started to notice you weren't aging.

But, no, Sam was cool. You were glad you saved him. Maybe you could erase Dean's memory of the past five minutes. You never tried that before but it should be possible, right?

"'M not a witch," you mumbled and watched your boots. "I'm not bad, I want to be good."

That was true. It was the most honest you'd been with a human or anyone ever and you really wanted Dean to like you. Maybe this was the way to go. With honesty.

"I could've hurt you. I could've killed you both." You glanced up and met Sam's hazel eyes then Dean's green ones. "And I wouldn't need the gun to do it."

It was a bit of a threat, but an honest one. And they both seemed to get the weight of your words when neither one of them looked away. They looked anxious like they didn't want to be caught off guard by your next move.

"I'm on your side as long as you're on mine-" you cut yourself off thinking you heard something.

There it was again. Like a banging in the distance. Did they hear it too? You furrowed your brow when you noticed Dean was speaking.

"What do you-"

"Shh," you cut him off and titled your head towards the noise to hear better.

Dean took a couple steps towards you. A glint in his eye.

"Did you just shush me, little dev-"

"Shhhhhh!" You shushed, pressing your palm over his mouth and listening intently.

Dean raised his eyebrows and you felt a smirk tug at his lips, which he clearly failed to hide and Sam huffed out a laugh at the scene.

"Do you guys hear that?" You asked but didn't remove your hand from Dean's mouth so he just shook his head.

"What is it?" Sam inquired.

Dean rolled his eyes and muttered something muffled. You flattened your hand over his mouth more and he groaned but didn't move away. He looked silently amused. Maybe, even... turned on?

"Claire," you said and the boys' eyes widened.

You walked away from them, towards the back of the house and then outside. Sam followed first, nearly tripping over your heels as you led him towards a shed at the edge of the property. Where the banging got louder to the point where you knew they could hear it too.

Dean came up from behind, all man-on-a-mission like, and pushed you both aside. He tried the door knob and when it didn't budge he proceeded to throw his body against the door. But it was sturdy as hell and he was only human.

You put your hand on his shoulder to stop him. Dean puffed hard and gave you a questioning look.

You punched out the deadbolt and twisted the knob until it gave way and the door slowly pushed open.

You smiled up at him and held out your hand as if to say, after him.

Let him go first. Let him feel useful.

He puffed out his chest and squared his shoulders. Silly, little human... but cute, silly, little human.

Dean took the opportunity and entered first, gun drawn. Sam next. Then you padded in afterwards, seeing Claire tied to a chair that was bolted to the ground.

Her wrists were bloody and raw and her nose looked busted. You scrunched up your face, hating seeing her hurt like that and waited for Dean to first untie her before you made your way over to her. 

Claire ripped the duct tape from her mouth, "About time you showed up," she snapped at you. 

"You were supposed to wait for me." You growled back, already feeling that anger bubble up within again. "Ungrateful, little-"

"Thank you." 

She must've seen the surprise on your face and started laughing. 

"It's way too easy to bust your balls, Y/N, lighten up a little, would you?" She smiled and you saw the blood dripping from her nose and staining her teeth. "I'm starving. Got anything to eat?"

Sisters are a pain in the ass. You didn't care if you were supposed to love her. She was beyond difficult and she knew it. But, you did still love her.

You touched her forehead, fingertips humming and glowing blue for a moment as you healed her. You didn't care if the boys saw, they already knew something was up.

And after everything, you wouldn't be so easily dismissed if they decided you were a threat. Dean was yours -you decided- but you wouldn't force him even if you could make his life a living hell if he didn't want to be a part of yours. You needed him to keep those parts of you quiet and he was damaged, too. He could use you, too. You could help him; help each other. You could try. But would he let you? If not, maybe you could be satisfied with just checking up on him from time to time. 

You hesitated a glance up at Dean, expecting contempt in his eyes. You should probably leave, take the memory of the way he calmed you and use that as an anchor, don't sully it with the look he'd give you now. Or when he found out what you were -who you were. But you couldn't stop your eyes from finding his. And you couldn't decipher the look.

"I need a drink," Dean started, "and a burger." He looked at Claire, "I'm phoning Jody." Then back to you, "And we're gonna talk about this. All of it."

You nodded and waited for them to lead the way back to the Impala. You hung back with Claire.

"Do they know?" Claire whispered over to you.

You shook your head, feeling what could only be described as bubbles in your stomach. You decided it must be butterflies. You never had them before now.

What was Dean doing to you?

The more he looked at you the more you felt the way humans were supposed to feel. But you didn't think you were changing at all, not on a molecular level, anyways.

"Are you gonna tell them?" She asked.

You shrugged, you didn't want to talk about it, you didn't want to think about it. Claire didn't seem to understand and continued. As sisters do.

"Do you want me to talk to him? Maybe Castiel could-"

"No." You answered flatly.

Your mess, your problem. You didn't want your father cleaning things up for you again. Although, this time things were different, cleaner. You could keep it that way. You wouldn't hurt them and you wouldn't force them.

You wouldn't use your powers against them at all; you promised yourself.

"Cass?" Dean overheard and turned around to walk backwards. "You know Cass?"

Fucking Claire.

Don't lie. Don't lie. Don't lie... -Okay, little lie. Tiny little white lie. Teeny-weeny. 

"No-"

"-Yes." Claire answered at the same time as you.

Fucking sisters, you scowled to yourself.

"A little," you corrected yourself.

That wasn't a lie, was it?

"Mmm," Dean sighed and pointed. "No more lying, little devil."

"Oh, for the love of-" Claire exhaled way harder than necessary. She had less patience than you. You would've thought she was half demon. "He's her father!"

"Claire!" You growled.

Don't kill her. Don't kill her. Do not kill her!

You glared.

Inhale. Exhale.

Dean stopped dead in his tracks, you didn't notice until you ran face first into his chest.

"Ouch," you grumbled and rubbed out the pain from your nose.

You were all powerful, sure, but you still felt pain. And your eyes watered.

"Your Cass' kid?" Dean grabbed your shoulders and really looked at you. "How?"

You didn't look much like your father. You had Y/H/C hair and raven eyes. If it weren't for the whites around your eyes you could pass as a demon even when you didn't lose control. That was the main reason everyone was always scared of you. You looked -you laughed at yourself- like a little devil.

You could act like an angel a hundred percent of the time and as soon as they found out you were part demon and nephalem, not nephilim, they'd only see that and scatter.

Bite the bullet. Come clean. But if Dean didn't like you as a witch then-

"Remember Cass had that demon girlfriend?" Claire continued, as always, not minding her own damn business.

"Meg?" Sam asked, he'd stopped too.

The fucking car was right there. Thirty feet away! So close, yet might as well be an ocean away.

"So, you're a nephalem?" Sam asked again.

Did this guy live in a monster library?! Seriously, didn't he know someone with such great hair shouldn't be a total nerd, too. Like give the less L'oreal-inclined a chance, for crying out loud.

You didn't know what to say. You couldn't deny it and you refused to defend yourself to measly humans who'd probably still judge you by your eyes despite anything you said.

So, you nodded. And you realized Dean was still clutching your shoulders, a little tighter now that you noticed.

"Cass and Meg?" Dean said aloud like he was trying to process the information but his brain wouldn't let him.

You didn't dare move a muscle, not because you were scared but because you were scared of scaring them off. So, you just kept your eyes on his green orbs. Willing him to feel anything other than contempt for the demon blood inside you. 

How did puppy dog eyes go again? Castiel taught you it in case you ever came across the Winchester brothers. He said it would come in handy as opposed to using your powers. Not everything had to be taken by force. Not everything had to be a feat of strength. 'Sometimes honey works better than vinegar', he told you.

You ran down the checklist in your mind: (1) tilt your head down, (2) soften eyebrows, (3) look through your lashes, and (4) open your eyes just a fraction more -but not too much or you look surprised, not adorable. We want adorable. Oh! And (5) -this one was optional- pout your lips. This step was always a fail for you, though... you disregarded it and followed through with the rest.

Sam was soulless once and Dean still loved him. You had a soul, you thought, would he see it in your raven eyes?

Claire broke the silence, slicing through the thick air with her loud voice, "She has a temper sometimes, but she's never hurt anyone that didn't deserve it. Can you guys say the same about yourselves?" What was she doing? You knew they couldn't, that's one reason your father wanted you to stay away. "Because I can't."

"So you're part angel, part...?" Dean asked, his hand sliding over your cheek to brush at the skin under your eye.

Puppy dog look was working! That never happened before! You were giddy inside but kept the look, letting him explore the depths of your eyes, letting him see everything.

"Part demon."

"No human?"

"Not enough to count."

There was a fraction of you that was human. The equivalent to a 0.0001 percent on an ancestry test.

When you were a child you wanted to be human, you refused to use your powers even and asked your parents if you could go to school with the other kids. But you grew faster than them so you weren't allowed.

That's partially why it's taken so long to learn your powers, why you stayed with your parents until now and you still struggled with keeping control; because you kept them caged up for so long, like a wild animal and now they raged against you with any strong emotion. Pain, pleasure, fear, anger, anything in excess was a trigger.

"So, 'little devil', huh? You must've had fun with that one." Dean chuckled and you placed your hand over his still cupping your cheek.

His skin was warm on yours but, funny thing was, you never felt cold until you felt him.

"You have no idea." You smiled sweetly.

Again, not the daughter of the devil but demon was close enough. Lucifer was kind of your grandfather by creation, or your uncle? Both? You didn’t know, those things were hard to keep track of and you weren’t on speaking terms anyways. 

"Do you eat?" Dean asked.

You shrugged, "Sometimes."

"But you don't have to, do you?"

"No." You admitted and looked away. "I do love anything with cheese, though. Cheese is the greatest thing your kind ever invented... food wise."

"Really? Not chocolate?" Claire gaped.

"Umm," you thought about it, "it's a close second."

Dean laughed with a warm smile, "Let's get you something cheesy, then."

You beamed.

You honestly didn't expect Dean to react this way. You thought it probably had a lot to do with Castiel being your father. They seemed close, in the past. Or you were getting played, big time.

Let him try something if that's what he was up to. He couldn't hurt you and chances were if he could, he wouldn't know how tonight. They'd have to research since even you didn't know your weaknesses, there wasn't much lore on the matter. 

You wanted to trust Dean and it was kind of fun to play human while you were around them so you tagged along to the restaurant. 

Claire frowned and pouted as she ate her pasta forcefully. You thought she bit her fork once but kept going. There was sauce all over her chin. 

Dean had called Jody on the ride to the diner and Jody chewed her out over not waiting for backup. She deserved it, but it was a little harsh.

Claire saved a couple of kids from that shed before she got nabbed. It wasn't just that she let her guard down. She did good.

You didn't tell her that, though. It would only enable her and if anything happened to her you knew your father would be upset. She was a small human, not incapable but there was an advantage to being either powerful, like you, or big and strong like Dean and Sam.

"Earth to Y/N." Dean waved a hand in front of your face.

You didn't realize you'd been staring at his forearms, the sleeves of his flannel rolled up just enough for you to see his muscles move as he ate his cheeseburger. Sam had a salad, what the hell? Didn't a moose need more fuel?

"How's your poutine?"

"Pure cheesy goodness." You sighed and picked out another fry, twirling the melted cheese onto the end of it and sticking it between your lips.

You hummed at the taste. When Dean asked if you'd ever tried poutine and you said 'No', he completely flipped out and demanded you order it. There were no regrets but your mind was wandering with him sitting right in front of you. There was nowhere else to look and he was a masterpiece. 

Sam had his perks, too, his shoulders were massive and you never noticed things like that on humans before but you think you liked that. Big shoulders. Dean had them, too. Must run in the family. 

You sucked the gravy from your fingers and let out a slow breath with a little sigh. It sounded like a light moan.

"Y/N," Claire hissed and elbowed you and you saw her blush. "Can't you be normal? One time?"

You pouted -not really sure what the big deal was, it wasn't that loud- and picked up another fry. It's been a while since you ate anything, since you didn't really need to eat anything and it tasted really good.

You held up the fry, sticking out your tongue and sucking the melted cheese thread from the end of it into your mouth. You circled the tip of your tongue, collecting the thread until the fry met your lips and Claire jabbed you in the side again. 

You glared at her, muttered a 'What?!' and rolled your eyes. 

"Enjoying yourself?" Dean asked, his gaze heavy and his food left abandoned on his plate as he watched you.

"Mhm. Want some?" You offered innocently and sucked the gravy from your thumb.

"No. I'm having fun watching you, little devil. Keep going." He said and wet his bottom lip.

What did he just say?! You blushed. Hard.

You absolutely loved the butterflies he made come to life in your chest and stomach. Yeah, you were keeping him.

"Here. Just use this," Claire shoved the unused fork next to your plate at you. "And stop moaning, for fuck's sake."

"Sorry," you grabbed the fork and stuck it into a couple of fries. "Happy now?" You asked sarcastically, demonstrating the use of a fork by shovelling it into your mouth like Claire had done with her pasta.

You pouted to yourself, it tasted better with your fingers. That was weird, though, right? Next time you'd get it to go and eat alone in your motel room the way you wanted. 

You'd given up on being normal a long time ago. Weird was your forte. You were Castiel's daughter, after all, and Castiel was the king of weird. He made it cool. 

Your father brought you up to love yourself and Claire was just being Claire. Sometimes you got along and other times, you didn't. You thought having the boys here kind of put her on edge, too. Like she wanted them to approve of her and by extension, you. 

You had an inkling Dean approved of your eating methods, though. Maybe not Sam, even if he was all shades of red right now, and avoiding all eye contact, and he kept shifting in his seat like he was uncomfortable. It was funny. 

_____

Dean refused to stay at the motel near the dive you met him at -the closest motel in town- and instead drove for two hours to the next one. Which didn't look a whole lot better. It could only have, like, maybe half a star more than the last place. 

You had a room all to yourself, as did Claire and the boys shared a room with the two queen beds. In the morning they were set to drive Claire back home to Jody and the others. They wanted to make sure she actually got there and didn't run off again to do something stupid, as usual.

You didn't think it would matter, she would do whatever she wanted as soon as she got the chance. So, why delay the inevitable? As long as she called when she got in a jam and kept someone up to date on where and what she was hunting, you let her do her thing.

Even if the worst were to happen, you could always bring her back. You successfully resurrected a bird last summer. Castiel tried to explain balancing the universe or something but you didn't understand letting things suffer if you could give them a second chance. 

Like the bird who was minding his own business, pecking for worms in the grass in the rain when this plump house-cat came along and snatched him up. That bird probably had a nest to feed and that cat was just bored. You gave him a second chance. How could that be a bad thing?

That being said, you weren't about to take any strolls through the cemetery to awaken the dead. Even you had your limits. But you'd break the rules for the select few you truly cared about.

You sat on the edge of the bed in your motel room, flipping aimlessly through the five channels on TV. It was late, you were bored and you didn't sleep. You should've told Dean not to bother with a room for you but you didn't want to leave them just yet and he didn't ask.

Three quick knocks came at your door and you checked the digital clock on the bedside table.

Three-O-two A.M.

You shut off the TV -not wanting to watch the weather channel anymore, it was boring and repetitive, but you liked the tune they played in the background over and over- and walked towards the door. You undid the locks and opened the door.

You understood why people in horror movies were usually scared if something like this happened, but when you're nearly invincible, nothing like that really scares you anymore. Other things scared you, though, like if Dean left without you in the morning.

Sure, you could easily find him anywhere he went, but if he didn't want you around... that would be scary. Because, you really liked him and you drew the line at actually forcing yourself on him, even in a friendship.

But there he was, standing in your doorway and looking like he'd just woken up.

"Hey," he rasped, "Can I come in?"

"'Course," you stepped aside and shut the door behind him. "Something the matter?"

"Uh," he brushed his bedhead back in an attempt to comb it and glanced around the room. His green eyes settling on your still-made-up bed. "You don't sleep?"

It was more of a statement but you answered anyway.

"Do angels or demons sleep?" You shrugged and he acknowledged with a nod. "Dean? Are you okay? You look frazzled."

He laughed at your term and hung his shoulders as if you saw right through him and he knew he couldn't hide it with you. He sighed and sat on the edge of your bed, head in his hands.

"I had a nightmare." He swallowed like he was waiting for you to laugh, but you didn't. "It's always the same fucking thing." He continued and you stayed silent, crawling into a spot next to him on the bed. He didn't look at you and exhaled again. "I'm back in that house and it's burning, but I can't find Sammy and my dad's... just -gone. I feel the heat on my skin and in my lungs and I can't breathe… and then, I wake up, and I still can't breathe.” He looked up, finally meeting your eyes. "I don't know why or how, but... I can take a breath around you." He lifted his shoulders and turned towards you. "I had to make sure you were still here."

"I am," you nodded and smiled softly, "Is that a good thing?"

He huffed out a laugh, "Didn't you hear what I just said?"

"Yeah, I'm your inhaler."

"Damn, sweetheart, you really do take after Cass, don't you?" Dean smirked.

You were aware of how clueless your father was with pop culture references, it was something you were working on with him. You supposed you took after him a little, you always liked when people pointed out your similarities, even with your mother, too. Not all stuff demon was bad.

"Like father, like daughter." You shrugged. 

********************************************

When Dean wasn't paying attention -lost in your raven eyes- you hit him in the face with one of your pillows. His face blanched and you giggled and spun away from him. His arms wrapping around your waist before you could hop off the bed.

"Naughty, little devil." He growled in your ear.

You barely hit him! And squirmed against his hold, I'll bet, not hard. You were pretending to be human again. It was nice for a change letting someone else be all powerful. Especially someone like Dean who felt powerless. You could see it in his eyes when he was talking about his nightmare. 

Your back pressed to his chest and you felt his heart beat fast against yours. You liked being in his arms, you never felt so calm with your blood moving as fast as it did. Usually when your heart beat fast it was because you were angry. Demon blood -almost literally- boiling. 

This feeling was so far from that. Your whole body buzzed like it was electrified and tingles curled your toes. Then Dean's palm found the hem of your shirt and snaked up underneath it, laying flat on the skin of your stomach.

Dean groaned and shifted behind you, his bowed legs wrapping around your hips and his arms pulling you with him as he leaned back against the headboard. He breathed hard into your hair and kissed your ear. 

"If Cass knew what I was thinking about his little girl right now..."

"I feel it, too." 

You threaded your fingers through his as he clutched you to him. Dean's grip easing a little as you melted into him. You turned your head to meet him with a slow, soft kiss and then he dropped his forehead to yours. 

You breathed heavy and added, "But stop mentioning my father."

Dean barked out a laugh and turned rosy, "Last time. Promise." And he kissed you again. 

"This is kind of crazy." You panted between kisses, neither of you pushing for more just yet.

"Mmm," Dean agreed, continuing to attack your lips until they felt swollen against his. "Do you wanna stop?"

"Never." You giggled. "Don't stop. Please."

You turned and straddled his lap. Dean brushed the hair from your face as he stared into your eyes. Frozen and lost in their endless depths.

"Your eyes are incredible," he breathed and you shied away. "Don't look away. Look at me."

You exhaled nervously and chewed your lip as you pressed your forehead to his and met his gaze again.

Nobody ever looked at you like that.

His hands on your back roamed up and down, squeezing anything he could get a grip on. His fingertips indenting your skin under your shirt when he held you and shifted his hips down the bed, just enough so you sat in his lap like a puzzle piece, as he leaned his mouth into yours and captured yours lips.

"It feels like you were made for me." Dean groaned and his hands fell to your ass. "We just fit so perfectly together."

He pushed your hips down and his bulge pressed between your legs making you moan softly in his ear. You were both still very clothed but it felt nice to finally fit with someone. Like you knew where you belonged all along.

"I need you." You breathed into his ear, sucking his lobe between your teeth and nibbling. You felt him catch his breath and kissed down his neck. "It feels right with you. Don't leave me, ever."

You knew you were coming on strong but he had to already know what he was getting into. Cass' daughter and a nephalem, stronger than any other being on earth including Chuck. He had to know you weren't some one night thing. He certainly looked at you like you weren't.

"I don't plan to." Dean vowed, tugging the hem of your shirt up.

You let him strip it off of you and he went for your bra next. Covering yourself when he threw the wire beast to the floor. He met your eyes lovingly.

"Don't hide from me, little devil." He murmured and pulled your arms away from your chest. "You're the most beautiful creature I've ever laid my eyes on."

"You really know how to make a girl melt, don't you?" You laughed and hugged him, pressing his cheek to your chest. "Your turn."

You leaned back from him and tugged his shirt over his head. Trailing your fingertips over his anti-possession tattoo while he watched you with lust blown green eyes.

Dean threw you onto your back and climbed over you, ravaging your neck as heat throbbed between your legs. You moaned and felt him pull at your leggings. He tugged them down to your knees and you heard the zipper of his jeans follow.

You pushed the rest of your clothes off with your heels and Dean rid himself of his, then plastered his body back to yours. Feeling every inch of his skin pressed against yours.

He settled between your legs and his green eyes met your raven ones. A smile quirked his lips and he kissed down your chest as he hooked your knee with his arm, spreading you open.

His lips teased your nipple and you whimpered and threaded your fingers through his hair. Tugging when he teased the sensitive flesh with his teeth.

Dean grunted and kissed his way back to your lips. Trailing his moist breath over your skin and sending shivers through your body, down to your toes.

Fuck, he felt good. 

Your body was humming when he nudged between your legs, lining himself up and thrusting inside of you in a single push. You cried out and held his shoulders, feeling him breath deep and his muscles move slowly as he rocked into the apex of your thighs.

Pleasure quickly filled your veins and you latched your ankles around his lower back, keeping him pressed to you. Your breasts flattened against his chest and his thrusts grew faster and stronger as you tried to keep up, moving your hips in time to meet him.

Your hips bumped into his and you felt his tummy tighten against yours as he grew more desperate for you. His hand gripped your ass as he pressed himself more into you and your fingers tangled into his hair at the sensation, pulling the short strands and making him groan.

Fuck, he felt great!

Inside of you, on top of you. You felt grounded like you belonged exactly where you were. Like this was always meant to happen. Like you couldn't contain whatever was building between you. Like you were about to burst in the most unimaginably delightful way.

He grunted in your ear and the heat between your legs blossomed, your eyes rolling behind your lids as you shut your eyes and rode out your orgasm. Holding onto him for dear life.

He was a god among men.

Dean groaned louder, feeling you clench around him as he continued to push into you again and again. Pumping a few more times as he chased his own end and he started to come. He breathed heavy and loud in your ear, burying himself inside you with one final thrust and holding your hip with his hand as you felt warmth spill inside of you.

You didn't know if you could actually get pregnant by being with a human, your body was still flesh and bone to a certain extent, but at the moment you didn't care.

Dean fell onto you, pressing you into the mattress and you held him, tracing circles along his shoulders with your nails and kissing his cheek. He sighed, hot breath in your hair and on your neck and his lips found yours again. Kissing you deep and needy until the urge for air burned your lungs.

"Y/N..." Dean started and puffed against your lips, still trying to catch his breath. "I..."

"What?"

"It's never been that good."

But he shook his head and kissed you again. His kisses soft and pliant, easing as his heart fell back into a steady rhythm.

You did it again about a half hour later. And showered together as the sun rose, barely getting any sleep. Or Dean barely got any sleep. You were sure today would be one of the lucky days that Sam actually got to drive the Impala and you planned to spend the car ride holding Dean as he slept in the backseat. 

********************************************

After dropping Claire off with Jody -whom you got to meet and genuinely liked- you tagged along with the boys to a few other cases along their route back to Lebanon. More than one of those cases taking you way out of the way.

The detour was scenic and pleasant and you weren't in a rush for the road trip to end. You weren't entirely sure it ever ended for them. And you wanted to stick around for a while, find your sea legs and stand on your own, but with them by your side. With him.

The infatuation didn't end in that motel room and neither did the sex. But it was getting harder and harder to find time alone and you were ready for some time with just Dean, a bed and maybe some cheese -not in bed but maybe between romps in it.

The Impala -or Baby, as Dean called her- rolled into Lebanon late in the afternoon and up to a red brick building that looked like a warehouse. This must've been the bunker that your father often talked about. And when the car took the road around the back towards the secret entrance to the underground garage, there he was standing guard outside, just waiting.

Your father. He looked angry -his facial expression never actually changed, but you knew his cues after the years- and he held your eyes through the window of the Impala. Shit.

Castiel stood outside waiting for who knows how long. Trench coat blowing open in the breeze and his tie loosened a bit more than usual.

You might've sent him to voicemail more than a couple of times over the past weeks -after Dean insisted you get a phone to keep in touch- and when you listened to the messages, he wasn't all that thrilled about you hanging around with the boys, especially Dean. And especially since he knew how Dean was with women. You liked to think you were different together, though, it wasn't like you had much luck with serious relationships in the past either. So, you would figure it out together.

It wasn't your father's business but it was clear in his eyes when you stepped out of the car to meet him that he wasn't getting that.

"Cass-" Dean greeted as he climbed out of the car with you, a giant smile plastered on his face as he approached his friend.

Cass glared at him and touched his forehead. Dean instantly fell to the ground unconscious before you had a chance to catch him. Luckily it wasn't pavement so it wasn't a hard landing.

"Was that really necessary?" You snapped at your father.

Sam rushed to park the car and jumped out to check on Dean.

"Cass, what the hell?!" Sam growled, kneeling next to his brother and Cass touched his forehead next.

Sam fell over awkwardly on top of Dean and you thought maybe you should push him off but then your father spoke to you again.

"It's time for you to come home. You had your fun, Y/N." He said and stuck his hands into the pockets of his trench coat.

"I don't want to." You glowered. "You're pissed, I get it, but why are you taking it out on them?"

"Dean can't love you," Cass explained and his blue eyes flicked down to Dean's unconscious face, half hidden under Sam's arm. "He won't ever choose you over his family... over Sam. Me and your mother will choose you every time. Come home."

"I don't need him to choose me over his family, I want to be a part of their unit, I want to grow with them-"

"You can't grow with them, Y/N, you'll watch them grow old until the day they die. You could watch a million generations fly by before you even age a second."

"I don't care! I want him while I can have him! As long as he'll have me." You screamed and your chin trembled so you clenched your jaw tight.

"You'll care in ten years when he gets injured easier, twenty when he starts looking more like your father than your boyfriend-"

"Stop."

"And in thirty years, he'll probably be dead, hunters don't last long, Y/N, especially human ones." Your father vented almost like he wasn't just trying to convince you.

Cass and Dean were close, he wouldn't just let him die. He wouldn't just continue on without him. Dean would impact your father on a deep emotional level before his time came, he already did, you saw it as much as he tried to ignore it. Or not think about it.

"Please. Stop." Your voice was quiet now and Dean started to stir underneath Sam's limp body. "If he can't live forever, I want to be human, too."

You looked up at your father with tears in your eyes. You hardly ever cried and Cass steeled his jaw.

"I'll find a way," you promised yourself and wiped away a tear.

Your father's face fell, like he wasn't expecting that response and breathed out a long sigh, "Your mother isn't going to be happy about this." He shook his head and loosened his tie a little more. "But I'll help you, if you're sure. Because I love you."

Your father would do anything for you even if it broke his heart to do it. There were ways to get the best of both worlds, though. You never tried it but if an angel lost their grace, they turned human. You could siphon your grace and store it for the future, then you could grow old with him for as long as it lasted.

The only problem was the part of you that was demon. You didn't know how that would balance out if you lost your grace. But you'd find a way. 

You hugged your father when you saw his heart breaking and assured him that he wasn't losing you. And who knows, maybe you'd find a way to make Sam and Dean live forever instead, and then you wouldn't have to give up anything.

Dean groaned and pushed at Sam's arm, shifting out from under his little brother's heavy body.

"What the fuck, Cass?" He groaned as he checked on Sam and stood up. He saw you hugging and nodded like he understood, "Guess, I may have deserved that." 

"I'll be watching you," Cass said, squinting his steely blue eyes and pointing between them and Dean. A reference to a movie Dean probably made him watch. "She's my baby, Dean, treat her like she's your Baby." 

He nudged his head towards the Impala and you laughed as you skipped back over to Dean and into his arms. You held him tight around his waist and squeezed until you heard him huff in pain and curse.

You loosened your grip but didn't let him go. You have to squeeze adorable things, everyone knew that; Dean was tough, he could take it.

"Fuck. I don't want to be on either of your bad sides." He admitted and kissed your forehead. "You did good, Cass, she's beautiful... and strong as fuck. Shit, little devil, I think you just cracked my ribs."

Cass quirked an eyebrow at the endearment and you laughed at your father's face turning sour. Then Sam groaned from the ground behind you; which was a good thing, because Dean was going to need backup.

_________________________ Dean: @akshi8278 @laycblack @thoughts-and-funnies @mrsjenniferwinchester @crustycheeks @kazsrm67 @sexyvixen7 @lyarr24 @suckitands33  @eliwinchester99 @yvonneeeee @igotmajordaddyissues @djs8891 @leigh70 @globetrotter28

SPN: @hobby27

[queermania]

Ok so I have a real question not trying to start discourse or any thing. If Dean knew how he felt about Cas slash knew he liked men why was he always so weird about gay people. I can see a reading where Dean knew how he felt about Cas but not one where he knew he was bi

this is totally a fair question and i don't think there's any one True reading or interpretation of the show/characters so it really just depends on what version of events resonates the most with you. the way the picture makes the most sense to me is that dean is a guy who was raised in the 80s-90s in a hyper-masculine environment with zero stability. i think all of those puzzle pieces slotted into place in his brain in a way that said "sex with men is okay, feelings are not." a furtive hookup with a dude in a seedy bar bathroom is fine. going on a date with a guy is prohibited.

and the thing is that this is kind of true for dean when it comes to women as well. a one night stand is a-okay. falling in love and settling down is not. so, you take that sort of mentality and then apply all the homophobia of growing up in the eighties and the nineties and a life lived out of a car bouncing between truck stops and, well, you get a dean who is absolutely flabbergasted when confronted with the fact that not only are you allowed to want something romantic with a man, you're allowed to say it out loud to other people. you're allowed to have it.

dean wasn't weird about gay people, necessarily. he was weird about people who were able to just be themselves. he didn't know that was an option. also, i don't know about y'all but as a queer person who doesn't necessarily read as queer at a glance, i too get Very Awkward when confronted with another queer person in the wild and it's not because i'm homophobic. it's because oh! new friend! must send telepathic signals that me queer too! my behavior around other queer people in queer spaces does not match my behavior around other queer people in random public spaces. i'm embarrassing and i see that part of myself in dean lol.

and dean being weird about other people making comments about his perceived queerness, to me, is a very normal reaction for a closeted person (or even someone who is selectively and/or quietly out). you can be perfectly at peace with who you are and still not want to be clocked. like???? homophobia is not a thing of the past. dean grew up during the AIDS crisis. he was, what? nineteen years old when matthew sheppard was killed? his reactions to people insinuating he might be anything even close to queer make perfect sense for someone his age, living the life that he did.

also, like, here's the thing: i realized i was queer when i was about eleven and i freaked out about it for about a day and then promptly suppressed the whole thing because of a deeply traumatizing childhood. being queer was the least of my worries and there was never any time to unpack it and deal with it so i just didn't. and then when i was about nineteen i started to have queer sexual/romantic relationships but continued to suppress the fact that EYE was in fact queer because, again, i didn't really have the space to unpack it. it wasn't until i was about twenty-three and surrounded by other queer people (in a platonic way) that i finally felt safe to fully admit to myself and to other people that i was in fact queer. and then i never really did a whole coming out thing. i just... lived my life openly as a queer person and let other people figure it out.

my point in all this is that i feel like my general experience/trajectory lines up really well with how i view dean's. he had a very traumatic upbringing so while he knew he was attracted to men, he had no time or space to deal with it. that didn't stop him from having sex with men, but he never really unpacked what it actually meant. it wasn't until he was older and had openly queer friends that he felt safe enough to fully acknowledge that part of himself. and then.. that was it. he just lived his life as a queer man. like, i feel like we actually watched that happen over the course of the show???

most importantly, i cannot handle any reading where everyone else knows dean is queer but dean does not know himself. i especially loathe the idea that sam Knows and has to explain dean's own sexuality to himself. that is so ugly. dean is a very self-aware person. you could even argue he is perhaps too self-aware at times.

anyway, this is all obviously just a watsonian explanation of dean's relationship to his queerness. it doesn't even touch on the doylist stuff but that's a whole can of worms i'm not really interested in opening on tumblr dot edu right now.

so, yeah. that's my personal reading.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Brother Mine (Winchester!Reader x Sam and Dean Winchester PLATONIC)

@xweirdo101x Hello, hope you are having a good day/nightI was wondering if I could request a Sam and Dean having an older brother (maybe by one or 2 years)  maybe they haven't seen reader in a couple years. The brother's finally get to see reader when he pulls them out of trouble?

(okay, author's note in that Sam is 22 at the start of the show and Dean is 26. The show spans the same amount of time as in the real world, technically, so Sam ends the show at 37 while Dean ends it at 41. Meaning this elder brother is probably 28 at the start and ends it 43. Good lord, that show went on for a while lol)

"So, explain to me why the two of you chuckleheads are in jail in freaking Kentucky? Because last I heard, Sam was going to college in California and you were still hunting boogeymen with Dad."

The two young men in front of you share a glance as you bail them out of some podunk town's drunk tank.

"Dad's... in trouble." Sam sighs, finally, to a harsh glare from Dean.

"Good riddance to bad assholes." you growl, and Dean clenches his fist

You and your little brothers don't exactly have a great relationship.

With the better part of seventeen years of your lives dedicated to hunting what lies in the darkness, spurred on by your domineering and obsessive father, Dean always has blamed you for "abandoning the family" and "breaking Dad's heart" because you left the life at nineteen and left seventeen year old Dean and thirteen year old Sam behind.

You did the amateur boxing circuit for a while before you were hired on to an indie security company and ended up catching the eye of the owner who trained you until you took over, eventually buying the company and running it.

You know a lot of your money was sent to help pay off any expenses Sam had, but you don't know if it was used for that or blown for motel stays or alcohol or sawed-off-shotguns or salt slugs for Dean and John.

You tried to stay in touch with Sam, but it was awkward. And he wanted space away from "family."

So you know neither of them would ever contact you unless something real bad happened (and apparently Dean's grudge was so strong that he wouldn't even inform you that John went missing)

Though to be perfectly honest, it wouldn't really matter to you anyway, and that's a matter to discuss with your therapist.

"I can't believe you called him." Dean grumbles, like a child.

"Sam apparently knew you'd need a responsible adult." you snark, and he grimaces. "Now, care to tell me why you're road-tripping?"

Sam looks at you. "My girlfriend. Jess. Whatever got Mom... it got her too."

"And you think that Dad is close to tracking it down and that's why he vanished." you sigh.

"Lemme guess, you're gonna tell us that there's nothing that goes bump in the night?" Dean sneers, looking at Sam.

"No, I'm not. I'm gonna tell you that it's not your job to chase it. It's not your duty."

"We save people. We hunt things. It's the family business." Dean growls.

"Jesus, Dean, do you hear how you sound?" you groan. "It's this kind of obsession that I tried to get away from! A terrible thing happened to Mom, and there was nothing any of us could do to stop it. It's not our fault, and it's not our responsibility to chase whatever did it down!"

"It's just gonna keep hurting people. We've seen it happening. It's gathering other people like Sam."

"Fuck." you growl.

Dean senses an in. "You were even better than me, back in the day. Remember when you ganked that skinchanger?"

He says "you were only 14" with as much reverence and awe as you do disgust and shame.

"I can't convince either of you to... let the chips fall where they may?"

"Nope." Dean pops the "p" sound.

"Sorry, no." Sam adds.

"I don't wanna kill things anymore, Dean. Not even bad things. But I do care about you both. So here. I'm going to help you, on one condition. We're going to all come back to my place in California, and Sam is going to apply to fucking law school, and you're gonna think about what you really want with your life, Dean."

They think.

They look at each other.

They nod.

"Welcome back." Dean grins.

"You better not still drive that shitty Impala and listen to crappy 80s rock."

Sam winces.