#i can just slightly lie down on a more comfy chair in the library or on my couch at home and instantly feel how tired i am

[doctorghoti]

It feels like the exhaustion is in my soul. Or perhaps exhaustion replaced it.

[huntertales]

Part One: Tough Love. (Bad Boys S09E07)

Episode Summary: When an old friend of Dean’s asks for help to solve a murder, Sam and the reader discover that the older Winchester as a secret past—one that will help solve the hunt. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 4.591.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

Silence was a rare occurrence in the bunker, even more so when everyone was home. Despite the place being vast and wide with countless rooms to occupy, you and the boys typically stuck with the same out of functionality and comfort. One room in particular quickly turned into a personal favorite among all of you when you moved in almost a year ago. The library was the perfect spot to get research done for an upcoming hunt and lounge around with a drink after a job well done. It was also the only spot where it was impossible to hear actual quietness. No sounds of talking or obscene noises that ruined the reason why Sam wanted to be here in the first place.

Out of all the rooms the bunker had to offer, it was obvious to Sam the library was his most favorite of it all. Just like you and his brother. You enjoyed it for the perfect atmosphere that it brought for research. Dean loved the comfy chairs and expensive liquor he drank on the odd occasions. It might have  been easy to guess that Sam loved the library for the several shelves of books on lore. A hunter's dream come true. While that was part of it, there were little gems spread around that had caught his attention. First editions of classic novels he heard of before, and a few he discovered by accident. Sam forgot the last time he was able to read a book that wasn't for learning about a monster or figuring out how to undo the mess of Heaven. All he wanted to do was sit down with a good book and just relax. Today felt like the day he might be able to do that. 

Sam called out his brother's name first, a few seconds later it was followed by Kevin's. His answer was dead silence. A smile crept on the edges of his lips when he stepped into the library to see that it was perfect. You looked up from your laptop when you heard Sam's voice break your concentration from what you had been working on. Dean was off somewhere else while Kevin decided to work on the translations in a different part of the bunker, hoping a change of scenery might help him focus better. You turned your attention back to the laptop to continue working, filling the air with the sounds of your keyboard tapping. A familiar tune that brought the younger Winchester back to his college days. Sam decided to join you.

Sam made his way over to the bookshelf, the exact one he'd come in here for, and glanced over the several battered hardcovers. He pretended to casually gloss over the titles as he glanced over his shoulder to make sure his brother was still gone. You wouldn't have cared about the fact that he plucked off a red cover novel that he couldn't stop thinking about. One with a familiar title of a land you both had thought was fictional. Filled with characters by the name of Dorothy and the Wicked Witch, who were in fact real people. Sam had been itching to read the series for himself to get a taste of the real magic, a fraction of the adventures Charlie was having in Oz. 

Sitting down in the chair nestled in the corner, Sam happily got himself comfortable and opened up the book to the first page, with a little too much eagerness for a series that was supposed to be written for children. No one was too old for a classic tale. However, right before Sam could even read the first word, he overheard a noise over your typing and occasional clip from the trackpad. It sounded like vibrations. A slight annoyed look crossed his face at the disruption. It only deepened when Sam watched as you continued to sit there, mindlessly scrolling through whatever was keeping your attention. Sam passively shut the book a little too loudly. You still didn't acknowledge the vibrating phone on the table across from your own.

"Please, let me." Sam muttered to himself. He set his book aside on another shelf and reluctantly made his way over to the phone. Glancing down at the caller I.D., it turned out to be a number he wasn't familiar with. Not the one to ignore a call, he pulled the charger out from the plug and answered before it could go to voicemail. "Hello?" The voice on the other line was male, and not one he was able to recognize. You finally glanced up from your laptop from what you heard next. Sam smiled to himself at the ridiculous nickname for whomever they were trying to reach. "I'm sorry, there's no Dee-dawg, uh..."

"I got it. I got it." Dean came out of nowhere, seeming to have heard the conversation from wherever he was, and plucked the phone out from his brother's hand. "Sonny, hey. So, what's up?" You shut your laptop and got up from your seat at hearing the one-sided conversation unfold, curious as to who was on the other end. Never in your life did you hear someone use a nickname like that on Dean. You wondered who this Sonny guy was. "All right. Yeah, just sit tight. I'll be there soon as I can." 

You made your way over to the boys right as Dean ended the call. You casually crossed your arms over your chest and sat down on the edge of the table, a little curious as to who contacted him. "So, what was that all about, Dee-dwag?" You couldn't help the smile that crossed your face at the nickname that sounded childish coming out from your mouth.

"Sammy, you remember when we were kids that spring in upstate New York?" Dea tried to spark an old memory in his brother's mind, despite how their childhood wasn't spent in one place for very long. They'd visited so many different places, so many small towns with motels that blurred into the same place. "Dad was on a rugaru hunt. We crashed at the, uh...the bungalow colony with the ping-pong table?'

"Yeah. You disappeared. Dad came back. You were gone. He shipped me off to Bobby's for a couple and went and found you." Sam remembered the details from the time he was twelve. While the small details were a bit fuzzy, there was no forgetting the moments when his father got beyond angry after coming back from a hunt to see disaster had struck. "You were lost on a hunt or something.”

Dean's expression changed at hearing his brother's version of the story that differed from his own, almost like it refreshed his own memory. "That’s what we told you. Right."

"I'm sorry?" You were caught off guard at what Dean said. John was never going to be father of the year in your eyes. He was a lot of things, but a liar was not one of them. You furrowed your brow in confusion. "That's what you told Sam?"

"Truth is, uh..." Dean came clean with the real version of what really happened all those years ago while you continued to listen. You and his brother both appeared to be interested as to why John felt the need to keep up the lie for so many years. What could have been so bad that Sam wasn't able to know? "I lost the food money  that Dad left for us in a card game. I knew you'd get hungry, so...I tried taking the five-finger discount at the local market and got busted. I wasn't on a hunt. They sent me to a boys' home." 

"A boys' home, like a...reform school?" You took a wild guess as to where he ended up for those few months. You didn't understand the need to cover up the truth, and why John let him stay there for all that time. You weren't a personal fan of the way John raised his children, having made a remark here and there over the years, you figured it was for the best to keep some things to yourself. It might have been one of the few moments in Dean's life where there was an actual proper guardian looking over him. Beside Bobby, of course. 

"Yeah, more or less. It was a farm, and the guy who ran it—Sonny—he, you know, he looked after me." Dean told you the rest of the story. You always enjoyed meeting people from the boys' past, it was almost like getting to discover another part of their tangled and strange childhood. 

"Wait." Sam was caught up on one detail as to why the older man was calling out of the blue. People from their past don't call just to say hello, unless there was a problem attached to that greeting in need of solving. "Does Sonny know what we do?"

"Yeah. He's good people. I gave him the number to the Bat Phone, and it sounds like he's got something in our wheelhouse." Dean said. You nodded your head in agreement at the plan. Sometimes people were believers in the supernatural, sometimes it took a strange phenomenon for them to understand. You covered your mouth with your hand when you found yourself letting out a yawn, which didn't go unnoticed. "Hey, you gonna be cool do this, or are you too tired?”

"Yeah, I'm just, uh..." You pushed yourself up to your feet and tried to get yourself to feel more awake. You blamed your sluggishness on the lack of your usual amount of caffeine. There was no way you were missing out on a hunt because you felt tired. "I'll be fine."

Dean wanted to take your word on that alone, but he wanted to be sure. He placed a hand on the back of a chair and balanced the other on the table, leaning down to ask you an odd sounding question. "And everybody's okay with heading out to the Catskills?"

You found yourself looking around the library to see who Dean might be talking to, despite the fact he was making full eye contact with you. You raised your brow slightly and smiled at his behavior. "Unless Sammy has other reservations, we are everybody.”

"Yeah. Right. All right." Dean stood back up into a standing position, pretending like everything was back to normal once more. You didn't see the strange look Sam passed his brother from the way he was acting about a certain someone. "Grab your stuff, and we'll head out." 

You rolled your eyes as you watched Dean make his way out the library to pack a few things for the hunt ahead of you. Before he could get too far, Sam stopped him. He needed to ask a question of his own about the conversation spoken just a few moments ago. "Hey, Dean...why didn't you just tell me you went to a boys' home?"

"I don't know. It was Dad's idea." Dean said. "And it just—you know, the story became the story. I was sixteen."

For some reason you felt like Dean wasn't telling you the whole story. It felt out of character for John to make up some lie to Sam. A parent would most likely make this a teachable moment. Screw up enough and you'll end up in a boys' home for a few months. You looked over at Sam to see he shared the same confused expression as yourself.

+ + +

You weren't sure what to expect when you made it to the Catskills where Sonny's home was nestled in. You heard of homes for troubled youth for behavior and crimes that weren't drastic enough for juvenile hall. An alternative that was the epitome of tough love for kids with parents who reached their end, or for those who didn’t care enough to bother trying at all. "Sonny's Home For Boys'' greeted you and the brothers of the establishment where Dean spent a few months by himself. It turned out to be exactly like Dean said, it was just a farm that had seen better days with a cozy looking home nestled on top of the hill. 

Dean parked the Impala on the dirt road that led up to the house and got out, you and Sam following quickly after. He glanced around the area to see if it might still look the way he remembered. You swore you saw a smile across his face when you happened to glance over his way, the kind someone got when returning to a happy memory. You took a look around yourself to see what made this so special. For a kid who spent his entire life from town to town, stability was something he might have craved. He had his own bed for a couple of months. Dean didn't have to worry about taking care of someone for those two months besides himself...You wondered if that’s why Dean kept it a secret. 

"You were here for two months and Dad couldn't find you?" Sam examined the farm for himself to try and see what was so special about this place that made Dean want to stay. It was another small town with acres of farmland that most likely was taken care of by the boys who stayed here. Not exactly paradise for a sixteen year old who'd been all over the country to settle for a little while.

"Oh, no. He found me quick. But he left me here 'cause I lost our money." Dean told you the reason for his extended stay, following a chuckle like it was all some funny story. You and Sam shared the same unamused sort of expression when the both of you happen to turn your heads to look at one another.

"You were sixteen." You came to the older man's defense to try and realize the punishment was a little harsh for something stupid. When you were at that age, what few months you still had left of teenage bliss, you fooled around and got yourself into deep trouble. Maybe not gambling away food money while your father abandoned you for God knows how long while you were forced to take care of another sibling...still, you felt the punishment didn't fit the crime. "You made a mistake."

"Yeah. I made the mistake." Dean said, seeming to refuse to try and see things from your perspective. "Look, I know how you guys think. None of this was Dad's fault." 

Was it ever in the eyes of Dean? You kept your thoughts to yourself and trailed behind the boys as you made your way up the porch steps. Dean knocked on the door and waited a few seconds before someone answered. It was a middle aged woman who opened up, leaving the screen door as a barrier between you and her. You noticed right away from the stern look on her face she didn't seem too pleased to see three strangers standing on the porch. You figured Sonny didn't tell her company was coming. You spotted the gold cross that hung from her neck, the size of it was too hard not to miss. A holy woman helping run a boys' home. There was nothing scarier than a God fearing woman.

The woman crossed her arms over her chest when Dean offered a friendly smile and a polite hello. "What can I do for you kids?"

"I'm Dean. This is my brother, Sam. And this is our friend, Y/N." Dean introduced all of you. "We're old buddies of Sonny's."

"Prison buddies?" She was quick to judge, causing Sam to clear his throat at the quick escalation of who Sonny was before even meeting him. You softly nudged the man in the ribs and gave him a side-eyed glare before smiling at the woman.

"No." Dean said. "You mind telling him that we're here?"

"I'll go get him." She responded a few seconds later, taking the time to give all of you a once over in some kind of way to make sure you were decent people. Not some strangers from Sonny's past he had all left where it should stay. Dean opened up the screen door and was about to step inside, but she stopped him before doing such a thing. "I just mopped this floor, so you take off those roach stompers."

Not the one to make a bad impression, you and the boys listened, slipping off your shoes so they laid on the porch before stepping inside. Sam felt the need to bring up a small fact about the man who ran this place, finding it rather odd someone who had a run-in with the law now helped troubled youth. "Sonny's an ex-con, huh?"

"What, and we're such angels?" Dean scoffed at his brother's passive judgement on the guy before he got the proper chance to meet him. "Trust me, he's more than made up for it." 

Dean stepped inside the home first with you and his brother following behind. You looked around while Dean took everything in about the place that hadn't changed since the last time he was here almost twenty years ago. The furniture was still the same as he remembered, Sonny even kept the awards in the same spot of their accomplishments. Dean didn't realize how much he missed this place, despite not wanting to be here at first when he was a teenage punk who gave the cop who arrested him a black eye. He might still have the same sarcastic charm and hatred for authority when he was a kid, but there was no doubt in his mind Sonny taught him some valuable lessons during his stay here.

"Dee-dwag!" You heard that ridiculous nickname again, this time coming from the man who gave it to Dean. You saw an older man step out from another room with a wide smile on his face at the sight of the fully grown Winchester.

"Sonny, good to see you." Dean greeted the man with the same happiness in his voice. He embraced the man into a tight hug after meeting up again after so many years apart.

"Hey, you, too, brother." Sonny said. Pulling away, he noticed that Dean didn't make the journey up here alone. He was quick to notice the tall man looming around was the little brother Dean talked so much about. "Oh, and this must be Sam." 

“Good to meet you.” Sam greeted the man with a friendly smile of his own. 

"Back at you, brother." Sonny grabbed the younger Winchester's hand to shake when he stuck it out before dropping it back down to his side. He finally turned his attention to you, trying to put a name to a face. “I don’t believe Dean mentioned you before.” 

"Sonny, this is my girlfriend, Y/N Y/L/N.” Dean rarely introduced you as such to people. Most of the time it was either hunting partner or family friend to strangers from his past. For some reason he felt the need to tell Sonny the deeper relationship you had with him. "She's a close family friend of ours. We’ve known each other since we were born. Circumstances broke us apart, but we actually reunited back together a year after I left this place." You looked over at him and smiled, the thought of seventeen soon-to-be eighteen Dean was a drastic difference to the man who stood in front of you today. 

"Good for you." Sonny seemed to be proud at hearing Dean had landed himself in a happy relationship. From the way you two looked at each other it was easy to tell he was head over heels in love. "He ain't giving you too much trouble now, has he?"

"Not anymore than usual. But it’s what I signed up for." You joked with Sonny. You lightly tapped Dean on his chest and flashed him a smile. “Good thing I love him.” 

Dean couldn't help the bashful sort of smile that crossed his face at hearing you say those three words to him. Normally they were saved for private moments where no one could hear you. You carelessly tossed them around and meant them. Dean felt a spark of pride hit him out of nowhere for some reason. As if he was showing Sonny he ended up okay for himself.

"So," Dean continued on with the conversation. "The farm looks."

"Oh, please, man. It's barely standing." Sonny brushed off the empty compliment that was just the polite way to make small talk before going in for the real reason why all of you were here. "Only got a handful of kids working around here."

Dean's face scrunched up slightly at hearing that news. When he was here back in the day, almost every bed was taken here with no one left without a job to do as instructed by Sonny. "Why's that?"

"Because these days, the system would rather incarcerate a boy than redeem him." Sonny replied.

"Hey, Sonny, uh," Sam happened to look across over to the dining room to spot the woman who answered the door was lingering around in an obvious sort of way. She was wiping an already clean table with a rag. You could tell she was trying to eavesdrop. Sam made sure to drop his voice to a whisper as he casually crossed his arms over his chest. "You mind if we talk alone?"

"Hey, Ruth," Sonny looked over his shoulder to see she was lingering around for whatever reason why. Maybe she wanted to know why a bunch of strangers from Sonny’s past decided to come by without a warning. "Would you please go check on the boys, make sure their money chores are getting done?"

Ruth hesitantly nodded her head before making her way somewhere far enough away to keep the conversation going without worry. "All right." Dean jumped to the real reason why all of you were here in the first place. "So, what's happening?"

"Well, you remember Jack, do you?" Sonny asked. 

Dean nodded his head. "Yeah. The tough, old leatherneck." 

"Mmhm. Well, somehow, that ancient, rusty, broken-down tractor just roared to life and ran him over the other night." Sonny shared the strange and unfortunate news of an old worker here who suffered a strange and terrible sounding death that was out of the ordinary. 

"Maybe it just slipped out of park or something." You guessed, trying to figure out a more logical reason behind it.

"Couldn't have. You know, I never believed any of this mumbo-jumbo stuff you kids are into, but...something ain't right." Sonny said. His concern made you a little bit curious as to what he meant by all of that. "Well, just things started happening—lights flickering on and off, strange scratching sounds coming from inside the walls, windows and doors slamming."

"All right. You think you can round up the boys while we take a look around?" Dean asked, having heard enough to suspect of what might be going on around here.

"Well, that shouldn't be a problem. Most are home on a break—well, except those with no home worth going to." Sonny said. 

Sonny went on to round up the boys so they wouldn't be around to disturb any of you when you got to the bottom of figuring out what might be going on. "All right. Why don't you and Y/N take the house?" Dean suggested a plan to you and his brother. "I'll check the barn."

The both of you nodded your head in agreement before going your own seperate ways to get a proper sweep of the house. Sam decided to take the upstairs part of the house while you stuck with the downstairs, thinking you might be able to cover more ground that way while Dean stuck with the parts of the farm he was familiar with. You took a sweep of the main parts of the house to see there was nothing out of the ordinary from what you usually looked for in this situation; no EMF, no sulfur and not a trace of a hex bag. Even though what Sonny described was typically signs of a spirit, it didn't hurt to check off all the boxes just to be safe if things ended up not being what you thought. 

Soon enough you made your way into the bedroom area where the boys slept after a hard day’s work. You spotted at least a half dozen twin sized beds spread around the place. Some of them were messy, a few of them were perfectly made. Sonny was right about there not being a lot of boys anymore. You looked around the place to see it almost seemed like any other bedroom. Plenty of furniture, some toys and board games lying around. You realized that this was the exact same room Dean spent two months in when he was sixteen. And you got confirmation he was here when you spotted something engraved into one of the beds.

Your fingers brushed over a hunting symbol carved into the bedpost that was most likely done by Dean himself. A smile crossed your face at the thought of teenage Dean protecting himself from evil while alone from his family, despite it only being his brother and absent father. You crouched down when you spotted some masking tape on the foot of the bed as well, making up as some kind of nameplate. Out of curiosity, you pulled off the first layer, revealing another name that you guessed belonged to another boy who slept in this bed previously. You pulled off another piece of tape, and another, and another until you came across the one you had been looking for—Dean W. 

Your head snapped away from the tape and to the door across the room when you heard rustling that broke your concentration. The door that led to the other room was opened slightly, giving you enough of a bad feeling not to go in there without some kind of precaution. Slowly, you pushed yourself back up to your feet and reached for the knife you kept tucked in the back of your jeans. You made your way over, taking cautious steps when you heard what sounded to be a whispering female voice. You didn’t take into consideration there might have been another bedroom located right next to the boys’, it was a small house after all. And it might have been Ruth’s. You discovered that a little too late. 

You pushed open the door, expecting to find the thing who killed Jack standing across from you, only it turned out to be someone else. You quickly whipped the knife behind your back when you realized it was in fact Ruth. She had been kneeling at her bed before you scared her. "I am so sorry." You quickly apologized to the woman at the accidental mishap, suddenly feeling like a fool for mistaking her whispering for something evil when it was in fact most likely a prayer from the rosary beads that was tight in her grip. "I thought I saw something in—”

"Like a ghost?" Ruth's presumption made you look at her a little funny, wondering how she managed to come up with that conclusion on her own. "Sonny told me you were old friends, but I know why you're really here. That's why I was praying for us."

"Praying for what?" 

"For the ghost that haunts this farm to leave." 

Rewrite Taglist:

@deansquirreljerkwinchester // @everything-i-tried-was-taken // @starswirlblitz // @supernaturalismydrug // @we-are-band-sexuals // @angiewinchestercas // @kaylinfayezink  // @owhatshername1 // @kgbrenner  // @cleo-is-my-doggy // @eeyore1988 // @dakota-dream // @lilylovelyxo // @timetravelingginger // @holahellohialoha //   @quicksilver123456 // @natashacamillas //@lexi-anastasia //@kaylinfayezink //  @deanwnchstr @albot-eh // @rashinyx2002 // @shellybeans //  @icantfindacreativeurl //  @becs-bunker // @oreosatmidnight // @bands-and-shietz // @fabulousmustachesonapolarbear // @clarewinchester // @releasethekracko // @alex-zeppelin // @mega-mrs-dean-winchester // @theskytraveler // @notmoose94 //@assassinofmasyaf // @caswinchester2000 // @savannah-m-99 // @sunlight-dean // @strayrosesbloom // @that-slytherin-over-there // @1000roughdrafts // @its-medeanwinchester // @simplyhemmings // @dream-believe-and-love // @that-winged-rat

Message me if you would like to be added!

[the-queen-of-fools]

Coffee & Cowboys

Chapter 1

— — —

Word Count: 1600 Pairing: Jack ‘Agent Whiskey’ Daniels x English f!Reader (no y/n, no descriptions beyond accent) Rating: Mature (For language and themes. Might become explicit at some point) Warnings: Swearing; slow burn; angst; mentions of death; mentions of afterlife; mentions of alcohol; post-movie; AU

A/N: Slow burn. Meta / self aware-ish. I have no plan. First time writing Whiskey. No idea how often this series will be posted. (I’m English, and I liked the contrast with our ‘Southern charm’-filled cowboy, so the reader is English too…)

— — —

Saturday started like any other. No alarm, so you wake feeling refreshed and ready for the nothing you have planned. A nice long lie in, read for a bit in bed, hot shower, and very comfy clothes. You walk downstairs and into the kitchen as usual, eager to drink the glorious caffeinated nectar of life, when you stop abruptly. There’s a man stood there. His back to you, showing off some rather tight jeans, broad shoulders in a dark denim jacket and what looks like a stetson. Who the fuck wears a stetson? “What the fuck? Who are you? What are you doing in my house?” You yell, as you pick up the first thing you can find in reach - a chopping board. A chopping board? What? He turns around, face slack. You grabs a jar and throw it at him. It flies straight through him and hits the wall behind, glass shattering and coffee spreading everywhere. You’re both just staring now, right where the jar should have stopped on his body. Your eyes meet his, matching expressions of pure shock on your faces. 

Uh... no. You shake your head and turn, running back upstairs and shutting your bedroom door behind you. You slide the lock in place, and dive back in to bed. Still holding the damn chopping board, you throw the duvet over your head and squeeze your eyes shut. You’re asleep. You have to be. You’re asleep, and dreaming of your nice relaxing morning routine. When you open your eyes again you can start the day right, have another lie in, a nice shower, and then a coffee without any men in your kitchen. Deep breath in, out, eyes open.  Sitting up, throwing the duvet off, you look up and fuck! There he is, stetson and all.  “Where am I?” A southern drawl crosses the room to you. It’s deep, and velvety, and if you’d heard it at a bar you’re sure you’d feel very differently about it. But in your bedroom?  “Why are you here?” “Where IS here?”  “How did you get in, anyway? The door was locked?” That stops him.  His face softens slightly as he looks at you and says, “I... don’t know.” He furrows his brows, two deep set lines forming between them. He’s staring at the door, and when you lean forward you can just about see that the lock is still in place. “Did you walk through the door?” You whisper. He’s silent, still staring. “Are you a ghost?” That gets a reaction. He whips his head around, and glares at you now.  “No.” “Are you sure?” His brow furrows again, face changing from its glare to a more fearful look as he whispers back to you. “…No.”

…

You’re both in your living room now. It’s taken over an hour to get you both to the stage you can share a room without shouting or throwing things. That would have been hard to explain to neighbours or your housemate. Admittedly, he calmed down quicker than you did. You’re pretty sure an existential crisis will do that to you. Plus, the novelty of throwing things through him took longer to wear off than you thought. Grasping tightly on your coffee (finally), the mystery ghost man paces in front of you. “You’re making me dizzy, would you stop?” You ask. He stops moving, sighs deeply and sits down on the chair across the room. “Huh.”  “What?” He replies sharply. “Just curious why a jar goes through, or a pillow, or a chopping board, and you seem to be able to walk through doors without thinking about it, but you can still sit on a chair without falling through.” You explain to him, taking another sip of coffee. “Stupid metaphysical contradictions,” you grumble to yourself, and it actually brings out a slight chuckle from the man, who quickly tries his best to hide it. He shrugs. “Well, darlin’, I know nothin’ more than you.” “Don’t call me darling, cowboy.” “Cowboy?” His brows shoot up, a smirk lifting one side of his moustache slightly. “Because of the hat?” “And the accent. Thought you might prefer it to Ghost Boy... or Creepy McGee.” Another little chuckle falls from his lips as he leans forward, and looks at you. “You did follow me straight to my bedroom before. Creepy McGee would be a kind name for that.” “Cowboy is fine, sugar. Thanks, I guess.” “Ew. That’s worse than darling.” You finish the rest of your coffee in one mouthful, and look over to the man as he stands. “I’m still not convinced you’re real, just so you know.”  “What are the options then, darlin’? Ghost or what, exactly?” Or what, indeed. “And more importantly, how do I get back home?”  “The way I see it, we have three options.” “Based on what?” His hands are on his hips, and you forget for a second that he might not be there, he might not even exist. The breadth of his shoulders exaggerating the narrowness of his hands on his hips. Shit. Why couldn’t you have just met him in a bar instead? Why did he have to appear in your kitchen? He clears his throat, jolting you back to reality and you flush at the idea he’s just been watching you stare at him. The stupid smirk is back. “See something you like, darlin’?” He says, with a stupider wink. 

Ignoring him and his smug face, you begin. “Option One: I’m having some sort of mental health crisis and you’re a figment of my imagination. A symptom, if you will. Option two: You’re dead. You’re a ghost and, for whatever reason, you’re haunting me. Or, option number three,” you pause, “You’re not dead.” “Preferable, from my point of view.” He interjects, frowning. “Option three is more like, you’re not dead, but you’re close. Like you’re in a coma, but you’re still sort of haunting me. An apparition, astral projection, you know?” He’s nodding along, but silent, and still frowning. “Let’s rule out option one, I have no history of visual or auditory hallucinations, nor a family history of such things. So. Onto option two; there is a fairly wide and agreed consensus about ghosts, so we have ideas on next steps. Option three may be a little trickier though...” You trail off, placing your empty mug on the table in front of you. You stand, and walk over to a shelf to vaguely look at the DVDs. “Why is that one trickier?” He asks, sitting down onto the chair again. “Resources, mostly.” You tell him, over your shoulder. “There’s a lot of hauntings in film and TV, so a decent amount of lore to look into and test. But apparitions not so much.” You turn to him, and shrug. “Wait.” He says, processing what you’ve told him. “Film and TV? Those are your resources?” “Oh. I’m sorry. You got a library book recommendation? Name and number of an expert, perhaps?” You are just met with a huff and Ghost Cowboy just folds his arms and leans back. “Uncharted territory here, Mr Grumpy.” The look that replaces the sulk is priceless. “Sorry, sugar. But I think I’ll get my own answers.” He stands up and walks to the front door. His hands passes straight through the handle, so he sighs, and just walks forward. He can’t get through it though, hitting it like he would usually instead. Another sigh as he turns to you. “What now?”

…

He’s pacing again as you voice each thought crossing your mind. “So. Physical limitation to a place: ‘Beetlejuice’, ‘The Others’... Pretty common trope.” You pause. “Ooh, can we try something?” He stops his pacing and looks at you with a huff.  “Why not?” He says, throwing his hand out. “It’s not like it can get fuckin’ worse.” You stand and walk to the door. You open it, and walk back, past Mr Grumpy-Ghost-Cowboy, to the other end of the room. “Try to go through.” He does, hitting the invisible barrier. “Okay,” you move next to the open door, “try now.” He isn’t happy, but he tries again anyway. Nothing, still stuck. “Fine.” You move to the other side of the doorway, into your front garden. “One more time?” You raise your eyebrows and try to look sweet and innocent. “Please, Cowboy?” His hands are back on his hips. “Last time, English.” You nod, ignoring the newest nickname. It is decidedly better than darling and sugar, anyway. He tries again, and success. The cowboy walks through the door without any resistance. He looks shocked, and tries to walk further, perhaps out of your life forever. He’s stopped, again, at the wall. “Huh. Interesting.” You walk back inside your house, the ghostly intruder following you after a moment of pushing the solid air. “Very interesting. You weren’t dragged back by my reentering the house.” You close the door again, and move back to sit on the sofa. “So. We’re looking at… limited physical proximity to a specific person instead: ‘Heart and Souls’, ‘Just Like Heaven’, maybe? Sort of. Not quite.” You start to mumble to yourself, before lifting your head and looking directly at your guest. “I’m going to plan a movie marathon.” The ghost cowboy just shakes his head, frowning more than you thought possible. Any more, you think, and his eyebrows will start to fold in on themselves. “Look,” you tell him, “you’re not in pain, and you’re not fading away. I’m dealing in my own way, but I’m open to suggestions.” “Alcohol. Whiskey. Lots of it.”  “A cowboy who likes whiskey. Groundbreaking.”

[fictionalrambles]

Shadowhunters Fandom Story - Part Eight

Submitted by Contesse2020

Five Fave Fics:

Of Splendor in the Grass by @lecrit​

Why I love this fic: Lecrit was one of the first authors I read fan fiction from. And this one I read in the library at my University, it was packed with people because it was in the middle of exams, and students were stressing with catching up on their curriculum. I was sat in one of the comfy chairs beside a window with a beautiful view of campus covered in snow.

So, I read it in one go. And I just cried and cried, really trying not to have other students notice me. This struck a chord In me, reminding me how brutal history is and how many people around the world still struggle with something as basic as being allowed  to love. I love the authors way of driving the story forward through the protagonist inner life, there is a poetry in the way she writes. Cried some more because of the happy ending - dehydration was on my mind.

I have not dared reread it, the emotional reaction was so strong. I had to go through the fic and try and find some quotes:)

Fave Quotes: 

«Different would have to wait another life»

«Magnus kissed him, and all the poetry in the world paled in comparison. He was home. Free at last»

*

The Lonely Hearts Hotline by @unrestrainedlyexcessive​

Why I love this fic: This fic I have read more times than I care to admit - just love it.

It is actually kind of dark in the emotions and growth Alec goes through, but Fatale always highlight the difficulty with finding yourself.

And even though you reach «adulthood» you don’t need to have your shit together. Which is nice to read since I’m in my thirties and really don’t know anything, that I’m still learning who I am. Not to mention your own agency in your life - don’t let things just happen to you - be active.

The humor is exquisite, I’m laughing like a loon one minute and feeling emotional the next. And of course it is H-O-T as fuck.

The plot is original and fun, it kind of makes you cringe and think OMG Alec - love it. But also it is the nitty gritty of life.  

I really like the dialogue and that is what makes me laugh the hardest. So I will just quote some of those.

Fave Quotes: 

«Jace answers on the first ring. “Dirty Dan's Disposable Dildo Emporium. Suck 'em, fuck 'em, and chuck 'em. This is Dirty Dan speaking.”

“Ahoy, Mort’s Mortuary service. You kill ‘em, we grill ‘em.”

«Early adulthood is no man's land. You don’t have the experience to matter and no one wants to pay you to gain it (…)»

Ain`t that the truth....

*

A Tiny Spark by @magicandarchery​

Why I love this fic: This is my ultimate feel good fic <3 when ever I have read something angsty and painful, I return to this.

Magnus and Alec are in an established relationship trying to make a family, supporting each other - healthy and loving.

Absolutely loved it. We get a heartwarming glimpse into their lives with a newly «adopted» foster child, them being dads - I think I have to read it again, give me those warm and fuzzy feels, please.

Fave Quotes: 

“Just thinking,” Magnus answered, pushing a lock of Alec’s dark hair off of his forehead. Alec’s mouth twitched up at the corners as a sleepy smile played along his lips.

“About what?”

“You.”

“Care to share?” Alec’s eyes opened slowly, and Magnus’ breath caught in his chest the same way it had the first time they had met. Alec’s thumb grazed gently over the outside of Magnus’ hand, and Magnus felt a warm sense of calm spread through him as he entwined his fingers through Alec’s.

Magnus inhaled slowly, deeply. He waited for the flutters of uncertainty to fill him, but instead he felt a different kind of flutter, one of a deep, unending love. Magnus’ tongue darted out, wetting his dry lips, and he tightened his hold on Alec’s hand, centering himself.

When he spoke, Magnus’ voice was barely more than a whisper.

“Marry me?”

Magnus set his phone face down on the table as he spotted Alec and Jace a short distance away, walking toward him, dressed in dark pants and dark t-shirts with the FDNY crest on the chest. Magnus slipped his sunglasses down his nose slightly, a wicked smirk decorating his face when Alec approached the table.

“What’s that look for?” Alec asked, his brow furrowing curiously.

“Just appreciating my man in uniform,” Magnus answered innocently.

*

2C by Oumy

Why I love this fic: Did I mention how much I love a pining Alec? That combined with him being all snarky and (to a degree) self-confident is my holy grail. I love how Alec is portrayed in this, he is vulnerable and honest with his emotions. The way they needle each other is funny as hell. Two of my favorite quotes <3 the last one kicked me so hard in the feels.

Fave Quotes: 

So, there he stood, six foot three of fidgeting human, trying to figure out the right way to ask the love of his life to be his salvation.

They made it outside before Magnus got close enough to Alec’s sleeve and pulled him to a stop, and he wasn’t ready for Alec’s outburst as he turned to him and unleashed “You know what? You’re right. I’m done pretending. I’m done pretending like it’s okay that we take swipes at each other the moment something goes wrong. I’m done pretending like it doesn’t fucking kill me that every word out of my mouth is somehow the wrong one and that I can’t seem to catch a break when it comes to you. I’m done pretending like I hate you for the sake of crumbs of your attention. I’m done pretending like it doesn’t faze me when I have to play the role of the villain because for some reason, that was the only part you allowed me to play in your life. I’m done pretending like I don’t care, like my soul didn’t shrivel inside every time you mistook my reaching out to you for an attempt to fuck you over”

*

Love is a Gamble by @la-muerta​

Why I love this fic: This one is also a historic AU, since I’m a history nerd. A very angsty fic, and I’m here for it. Bring all the pain and all the feels.

I actually had to read «A Tiny Spark» right after - needed some fluff. My heart just broke for Alec and his struggle to accept his attraction to Magnus, so of course there is pining.

Also Izzy is so bad-ass in this, and I love it.

I just fell in love with all of the characters and their backstory. The plot is exciting, with action and the works - keeps you at the edge of your seat. But the best parts were Alec`s quotes - they did me in.

Fave Quotes: 

Alec shook his head, the violent movement reminding Magnus of a distressed horse. "You don't understand anything. I... There's something wrong with us. With me. You have bedded women - you have a choice in this."

"No, Alexander. There's nothing wrong with you, or with me. This is just the way we are, and the only choice I have in the matter is that I chose not to live a lie," Magnus told him firmly.

"When I confronted Aldertree, he asked me if I was a gambling man. I'm not - and never have been. And loving someone, for someone like me, is a bigger gamble than most. But there comes a point when a man's got to stop arguing with himself. I don't want to fight it anymore," Alec said, meeting Magnus' eyes squarely. "I'm not telling you this because I expect you to return my feelings. I know you don't feel that way about me. I just... never mind. I apologise if this has made things between us uncomfortable, I hope we can still be friends-"

[lyricalbowties]

A Latte Fun || Klaine

Tagging→  Blaine Anderson, Kurt Hummel Where→  Latte Fun, coffee house When→ 10/4/19 Warnings→  n/a

Blaine

To Blaine, this meeting of the campus glee club could not end soon enough. And it wasn’t because he didn’t want to be there, or he found it boring. He was just, admittedly, a little excited to get to spend time with Kurt. This was the day he was going to surprise order a drink for Kurt and hopefully, if all went well, Kurt would approve. It seemed stupid to be excited about such a thing, but for some reason Blaine was eager to get out of glee club and go. Kurt was incredibly nice and interesting to talk to and surprisingly easy. Sometimes Blaine had a hard time talking to people especially guys, with girls he didn’t feel the need to put on as much of an act. But with Kurt it was easy. Blaine liked that.

           Once they had finished and said goodbyes to the rest of the club, and Blaine made sure to slip away from Rachel to make sure that there would be no unwanted tagalong, he moved up beside Kurt. “So, ready to go?” Blaine adjusted the strap of his bag on his shoulder doing his best to keep the majority of his eagerness hidden. “There is this great coffee house not too far from here. It’s called Latte Fun.” He said proud and with a grin, as if he came up with the pun himself. “It’s actually really nice, there are books too and some study areas. It’s very casual compared to Starbucks, less commercial and their coffee is out of this world.”

Kurt

While usually sitting near the front to be as involved as possible, Kurt found himself hanging in the back today with his notepad open in his lap. His mind more focused on getting a sketch done for his fashion design class compared to practicing vocal exercises. There'd be plenty of time to do that in the future, no reason to stress about it. Not now at least.

By the time the club ended, he was a little proud of the finished product and was a little startled by Blaine's sudden appearance at his side as he collected his things and started to head out. Definitely wasn't anything that he was about to complain about, and he recovered with a bright grin. He liked Blaine. He was very helpful, sweet, and had to be one of the better dressed guys that he's seen on campus which he could respect off the bat. It also helped that he wasn't bad on the eyes either, but that was neither here or there. A quick slip of his notebook into his bag, and he's giving the other his full attention.

"I certainly am!" A half-lie as he got too wrapped up in his homework that he forgot for a hot second. "I've been looking forward to this. Somewhere that isn't the common area of my dorms is going to be an upgrade." Clutching at his own book bag strap, Kurt gives a generic nod as he heads away from the music room and out of the building at long last and out into the fresh air. "Latte Fun." He repeats to himself, giving a small laugh. "Is this the coffee shop you find yourself at when you need to study? Or are you one of those people who prefer holing themself up in their apartment or a library?"

 Blaine

Blaine couldn’t help but grin stupidly as Kurt said he was looking forward to getting coffee. He turned his head away from Kurt and stared in front of him in an attempt to hide it. It was almost an involuntary smile and the more Blaine thought about it it made him smile more which was absurd. He cleared his throat softly and made sure to hold the door open for Kurt as they left the building. Blaine gestured in the direction they would be walking, it was just a block away from where they were which was perfect. Although, Blaine found himself thinking that he wouldn’t mind a longer walk with Kurt.

Well. That was enough of those thoughts. He needed to calm down. Blaine managed to get this way with any guy he thought was attractive. He had to take it down a notch and not let his mind wander like that everytime, even if it was a simple innocent thought. Don’t entertain it. Don’t risk it.

“Oh, well.” Blaine began, his cheeks flushed a little before he continued. “No, but not because the atmosphere isn’t great. I started out by studying in the library last year but I prefer to listen to music when I study and, well, I temporarily forgot where I was and might have broken out into the chorus of Mr. Brightside.” Blaine chuckled softly. “Since then, I’ve decided that it’s better for me, and everyone else if I just stick to my apartment. I can’t be trusted with a good song.”

Blaine tilted his head towards Kurt, “But, if you’re a person who can be trusted not to cause a public disturbance, I think Latte Fun would be a good place to go. There are some incredibly comfy chairs too. And,” He added with a bit of urgency, “just like the coffee please feel free to be honest with me if you hate the place. If it’s not your style, that’s okay. I might be talking it up too much.”

 Kurt

Kurt took notice of the way the others cheeks flushed, even ever so slightly. How could he not? He didn't have any kind of reaction like that often. Innocent or not. Really it was a little flattering if he admitted it to himself, silently of course. It was a nice look on Blaine. As he let himself give him a quick once over as he passed through the door, he decided there possibly wasn't a bad look on him that he could think of. No matter what he said about the hair situation. Which he was refusing to bring up. Not now anyway. There'd be time for that topic.

Having Blaine confess that he broke into song out in the open though gets Kurt giving a warm soft laugh, bringing a hand up to his mouth as he does. "Oh. I wouldn't have thought that a public disturbance, though! I am sure everyone was a little blessed in that moment." He gives Blaine a little nudge in the shoulder with his own. "Don't be so hard on yourself. It happens to the best of us. Like Finn came in on me studying in the common area singing to myself to recruit me for Glee Club." If anything he was now making it a silent point of his to get Blaine for a study break in a public space. Probably for selfish reasons. Whether it was because he preferred good company who he didn't feel on edge with, or maybe because he wouldn't mind a private performance in person in the middle of studying and attempting to write an essay.

"Do you actually think I'm not going to like this place? The way you describe it sounds relaxing, cozy, and like the perfect atmosphere. Plus everyone knows, coffee and books combined is the best smell anyone could think of." He tilts his head back towards Blaine mirroring him with a bit of a smirk. "Relax. I'm not as picky as I like to pretend I am." A bit of a light hearted sigh follows and Kurt straightens his posture again as the walk continues, being more mindful to make physical memories so he could find this place on his own if need be.

After a comfortable pause, Kurt presses on. "So, Mr. Brightside, huh?" He asks, glancing towards Blaine again, brow raised. "What other goodies do you have in that repertoire of yours? Do you always listen to rock when studying, or do you have a variety?"

 Blaine

Blaine chuckled softly, grinning ear to ear as Kurt nudged him. “I don’t know if everyone around me, including the librarians would have used that word.” What he didn’t tell Kurt was that it had happened on more than one occasion and he nearly got himself banned from the library. How embarrassing was that, to almost get banned from the campus library for breaking out into a one man flash mob? And when Kurt said to not be too hard on himself he tried not to let the smile waver completely.

“Ah so, you have caused a public disturbance.” He said with a sly smirk directed at Kurt. “Well, I’m glad he heard you. Otherwise we might not be getting coffee right now.” Blaine said, and that was a rather sad thought. He truly hoped Kurt liked Latte Fun, he wanted there to be a place he could randomly run into Kurt. “Oh, no” Blaine began, a little bit of panic in his voice “I didn’t--I don’t think that you’re picky. That’s not what I meant. I just tend to build things up sometimes and I wouldn’t be offended if you honestly didn’t like it. That’s all.”

Way to go Blaine. He chided himself, his eyes directed forward now the coffee house within sight across the street. When Kurt spoke again Blaine drew in a deep breath and held it for a moment. When he exhaled he grinned, “Yeah. You’re going to think I’m a little excessive. I have multiple playlists and it usually depends on what I’m studying and what mood I’m in. Mostly it’s pop, rock, or somewhere in between. There’s some classical, some separated by decade..I have one for showtunes, but I don’t study with that playlist. It’s far too difficult to keep quiet when I’m listening to it.” He paused a moment, “I can share them with you sometime, if you’d like.”

 Kurt

There's a warm laugh at the others words. He had to hand it to him there. Librarians were known to be super strict when it came to how much sound a person was allowed to make within the building. Part of him understood it. The other part wanted to be more defiant as they were people. No one should be made to feel silent, right? He had to shake himself from that though before it spiraled into something else. Not today. Not now. He was in good company. Last thing he needed was to let his mind run away with past thoughts that shouldn't matter anymore. He was safe here. Safe with Blaine.

"I wouldn't call it a disturbance," he's quick to defend himself with a little grin as he glances away, hiding the mixture of amusement and a point to not blush at his own admission, "I was completely alone. If anything, he came in and disturbed me." A little cackle follows. "Although I wasn't about to complain, because I can also get carried away. Can't help it. Broadway musicals, they have a way to sweep you out of the moment and put you on a stage in a heart beat." There's a wistful sigh, lifting his shoulders in an over the top shrug.

It was only Blaine's sudden need to correct himself that has the porcelain boy stopping in the walk, eyebrows lifted in surprise. With an equal need to soothe, he reaches out to gently touch at Blaine's upper arm, hoping to ground him back to Earth by doing so. "Blaine, relax. I was kidding. I definitely don't peg you for someone to stereotype off the bat like that." Tipping his head, he removes his hand and returns it to his bookbag strap, continuing on the path.

"I'm sorry, didn't mean to accidentally put words in your mouth like that. Definitely wasn't the intention, I promise."Relief at the topic change nonetheless, he picks right back up in his confident stride, taking in the new information as his coffee buddy offered it to him. All of it sounded like good choices, vague but still enough for him to get a basic idea.

"Oh, no. Definitely not thinking that at all. I have my own lists categorized by different situations, genres, routines—you name it." He holds up a finger. "And it's nothing to be ashamed about. Especially for a music therapist." A gentle poke against Blaine's arm, giving a serious nod. "But I would like that. You sharing your music taste with me. So long as you don't judge me if I start randomly bursting out into song if I favor something in your selection."

Blaine

Blaine arched a brow, smiling a little over to Kurt. There was something endearing about the idea of the other man singing alone with his guard completely down and how genuine it must have been. Blaine was a little jealous of Finn in that moment, wishing he had been the one to stumble upon such a sight. “That’s incredibly beautiful.” He said, when Kurt described musicals. “And I agree with you. It is one reason I don’t listen to Broadway in public, I am far more likely to break out into song. It’s easy to get swept away by them, I think there is some level of romance to it all.” Blaine felt his cheeks start to heat up at that admissions.

And when Kurt touched them the rouge in his cheeks continued. Blaine tensed a little before taking a calming breath and smiled. “You don’t have to apologize.” He sighed. “I’m glad you don’t think that though. It’s just we don’t know each other that well yet, and I didn’t want you to think that I was making that assumption about you.” He was slightly embarrassed for his reaction but at the same time he wanted to make a good impression with Kurt.

He cleared his throat and pressed the button as they stopped at the crosswalk.The coffee house was just across the street and Blaine realized he had no idea what he was going to order for Kurt. There were a few ideas he had but nothing Blaine had settled on. He turned to face Kurt waiting for their time to cross.“I’m glad I am not the only person who puts that much time into their music. I like a variety of music but I am kind of stuck on a few albums right now. Pink’s new album is pretty great but really emotional at the same time so I need a little pick me up after that. That’s where I go to one of my more upbeat positive playlists, usually my 80’s playlist. Because if Wake Me Up Before you Go-Go doesn’t make you smile, I’m not sure what will.”

When the light turned and it was their time to cross, Blaine gesture for Kurt to go first and he caught up quickly to be next to him again. “Kurt, you’re talking to the guy who broke out into song in a library. I wouldn’t judge you for that. I would be the last one to do so.” He said with a wink.

Kurt

Beautiful. That was a word he hadn't thought he'd hear describe anything he did. For all he knew, that was just a word used in books or movies, anywhere fictional really. But real life? It brought color into his pale cheeks, tinting them pink. Flattery was something he was sure he was going to feel a lot around Blaine already. He already got a kick of it from others, but at least now it was getting his face to react positively. Blushing was a positive reaction, right? He unknowingly makes a face to himself for a moment. Contemplating. Analyzing. If only to keep his brain from moving other places, or digging too deep behind the why's behind those kinds of thoughts.

Chewing on his bottom lip as he sets to cross the street, giving a sigh of contentment. "You can never go wrong with Pink." He agrees, giving an enthusiastic nod. "I still have her first album that I find myself rocking out to, like it's nothing." He gives himself an exasperated sigh at himself, though he's still got a grin on his face as he reaches the other side of the crosswalk. "I can't tell you how many times I've been empowered by 'So What'. One of the better post-break up songs to exist." There's a bit of a flash of some unknown emotion across his face, but it was a blink-and-you'll-miss-it kind of thing that is easily replaced with a calming skill he's picked up over the last year.

"Good to know! Because seriously, sounds like you have a top notch list of artists that I'm gonna enjoy snooping through once you let me." Giving Blaine a wink back, he reaches the door first and gives it a pull, gesturing the other inside first.Blaine had been right. This place was amazing. The warm scent of coffee beans was always comforting, washing over him like a blanket. He has to inhale deeply, wanting to fill his lungs with as much of the atmosphere as possible. The cozy chairs, the lines of bookshelves of books just begging to be touched from where they were so neatly lined in their rows. Transporting Kurt into a different era almost, where everything seemed more simple. More romantic. Just better.

When he does find his voice again, he exhales loudly as if he had been holding his breath that entire time. "Wow." Shaking his head, he does a full three-sixty turn to take everything in, all over again. "I now understand what Belle felt when she saw the Beast's library for the first time."

 Blaine

The color rising in Kurt’s own cheeks did not go unnoticed by Blaine. He was glad he was not the only one blushing. He wondered what it was that he had said to make the color appear. Blaine wanted to be able to do it again in the future, it was a good look on Kurt. Blaine watched him a moment and briefly thought he saw Kurt’s face change but maybe Blaine is seeing things. He just smiles at the other man as he walks beside him, listening to him talk about Pink and rocking out to her first album and ‘So What’.

Blaine tilts his head and chuckles at the idea of Kurt rocking out. Not that it seems absurd but because there is a little bit of air that Kurt’s presence naturally gives off that says he only performs music not ‘rocks out’. He gives a nod and is too busy thinking about the image of Kurt really getting into the music to notice the implications behind what he just said. The dots didn’t connect between him being empowered by what he believed to be one of the better post-break up songs. Instead, he replies with “‘Raise Your Glass’ is another great one. I’ve spent a lot of nights feeling empowered by that in my room. My playlists are your playlists any time you want them.”

As they approach the building he tries to go for the door but Kurt has already beat him to it. Blaine believes that the only reason he wasn’t able to get the door first was because of the wink Kurt had given him, causing Blaine to freeze for a moment and not know what to do. Thankfully he recovered well enough to walk in a head of Kurt, turning to see what his reaction would be. The moment Blaine saw Kurt’s face a large smile stretched itself across Blaine’s. He pulled his lips in trying to control his smile but his own excitement was hard to contain.

“I’m going to take that reaction as an, ‘I like it’.” Blaine paused a moment, “Wait. Would that make me the Beast in this scenario?” He joked with a raised brow. Blaine elbowed Kurt lightly in the side. “Come on, I have a perfect spot for us then I’ll go get our coffee.” He guided Kurt toward the back off the coffee house, all the whole Blaine prayed that his table was unoccupied. And by the grace of whatever existed, it was. There was a slight bounce in his step as he showed Kurt a corner with two wingback chairs and a small table between the two.

“This is my favorite place. It’s quiet and away from most of the other tables and chairs. Plus, these are the only two chairs like this in the whole place. Makes it even more special.” Blaine took his bag off from around his shoulders and set it down beside one of the chairs, making sure to grab his money before he stood back up. “Alright, make yourself comfortable I’ll be back shortly with your surprise coffee.”

 Kurt

He doesn't even try to cover his amusement at the idea of Blaine being the beast in any scenario. Sure, he didn't know the guy that long, but with those soft edges and always a positive persona, there was nothing beastly about him. The image was ridiculous and Kurt curls his lips into his mouth with a shake of his head at the question. "While you do hold Disney Prince appearances, I don't think the Beast is your style." He teases back, easily following into step towards the designated area that the other had in mind.

Relieved it was in a more quiet and secluded area, Kurt makes himself at home. Setting his bag on the floor beside one of the chairs, he takes a seat. Making note that he would probably need one of these in his dorm room if he could sneak it past his roommate's ideals of making it a dirty clothes hamper to toss things on. It made his nose wrinkle from that thought.

"Well, I'm very glad to be thought of as deserving of your favorite and special chairs." Even his cheeks flush a little once more as he says the words themselves. It sounded so much better in his head and he has to duck his head to prevent his own embarrassment at his words to heat his entire face up. God. Why was he like this?

Merely giving a double thumbs up at the instruction to make himself comfortable, Kurt settles into the chair more and removes his phone to check for notifications. Only a few things from Twitter and maybe something from his dad on Facebook which got him deciding it was best not to check that while he was with friends. Last time his dad shared something on Facebook, it had been childhood pictures of that awkward phase of being a toddler. Didn't need Blaine seeing those, even on accident.

Blaine

Blaine hesitated a moment, the comment about looking like a Disney Prince had caught him off guard. He blinked and smiled a little at Kurt, he wanted to reply with a ‘you too’ but the words didn’t come out. Blaine watched Kurt’s face for every reaction he could in hopes that this place was to his satisfaction. Without realizing it, Blaine had been holding his breath. When Kurt settled into the chair and seemed comfortable enough Blaine left to order their coffee.

As soon as Blaine turned away and briskly walked back to the front, his entire face heated up. Okay, Anderson just calm down. He told himself drawing in a deep breath. This was most nervous he had been around a single person in a while. The party and the boy with the pastel hair didn’t count. That was a different type of nervous. That was more of an ‘everyone could find out here at this crowded party where people are incredibly trashed’ kind of nervous.

At the front Blaine flashed a smile at the barista behind the counter, her auburn hair pulled up into a messy bun on her head, with two sharpies sticking out of it. He ordered his usual, just a basic medium drip. And he paused,his eyes scanning over the menu. “Uhm.” Blaine glanced back to where he could see Kurt and grinned a moment and turned back to the barista.

He lowered his voice a little. “I’m trying to surprise my friend over there with coffee. Not just any coffee, but like a surprise coffee drink.” Boy, did he sound ridiculous. Blaine sighed and tried again to explain a little more rushed this time. “You see, he’s trusting me with picking something he’d like but I don’t know what he likes and I don’t want to mess this up.”

The barista looked over in Kurt’s direction and back to Blaine with a knowing smirk. “Oh, first date huh?”

“What? No.” The smile from Blaine’s face dropped. “No, he’s just a friend. A new friend. Look, I just need a suggestion. I’m thinking something that has caramel or cinnamon in it. Can you just whip something up for me, please? Oh, and two of those pumpkin shaped cookies.”

Nearly mortified by the interaction, Blaine paid the barista and took their drinks and cookies back to where Kurt was waiting. As he approached their spot, Blaine felt the embarrassment wash away and excitement take its place.

“Alright.” He announced with a broad smile. He set both drinks on the table and sat across from Kurt in the other chair. He set Kurt’s closer to him, a medium caramel macchiato with added cinnamon to give it just a slightly unique taste. “I also got us some cookies because I always think you should have something sweet with your coffee. Okay. I’m not going to tell you what it is, I want you to taste it and tell me what you think.”

 Kurt

Scrolling through his phone despite nothing quite sticking to his concentration as his mind was too busy trying to guess the kind of coffee mixture he was about to consume. He wasn't completely picky when it came to his coffee — if he had been, he wouldn't be sitting here awaiting his doom in a patient silence. He knew he could trust Blaine with this. It was coffee. Wasn't a matter of life or death. Still, the unknowing of how sweet, bitter, or watered down it could be was a prickling sensation he wasn't going to shake until he had the cup in his hands.

None too soon until his coffee buddy was back. As was the smile on Kurt's face. Tucking his phone away without a moment of hesitation, hands moving to his lap with intrigue as he eyed the cup in question. "Oh boy." He muses, wiggling his fingers as he accepts the coffee cup, the warmth tingling his fingertips as he does so. Always a satisfying feeling. "Here it goes."

First, he lifts the cup to his nose for a small whiff. There was a definite sweet smell to it, and he thought he could catch a scent of cinnamon, but being where they were he couldn't tell for sure. It's then he brings it to his lips, letting the hot liquid touch his tongue at long last. At first it just slightly burned, as it coated his mouth entirely so he could swallow and let it sit with him. Cinnamon. Definitely had cinnamon. No doubt there now. Wasn't his imagination. His head tilts, curious as he tries to figure out the other distinguished taste that was familiar. It was pleasant, he knew that much. He could see himself drinking this, whatever this was, again.

A second sip.

A third.

Lips curling into his mouth, he takes pause to sit with the taste. "Caramel? Caramel." He states at last, pinpointing the flavor in his memory, and looking to Blaine for confirmation as he could still be wrong, and jumped to conclusions. Second guessing himself, he takes another taste only to nod. "I can taste the caramel. It's a sticky sweet. Nothing overpowering. I like it." Lifting the cup towards Blaine in a mock-toasting gesture, he settles into his seat, pleased with himself.

"I think you've got good taste in coffee, Blaine Anderson. I say we do this again sometime? If you're okay with that, of course. No pressure."

Blaine

Blaine sat back in his chair and, with eyes still on Kurt, brought his own coffee up to take a slow sip. He hid a smile behind the coffee cup when he watched Kurt go ahead and smell the drink first. It took all it had in him not to chuckle. He needed to be silent as Kurt evaluated Blaine’s drink selection. As he watched Kurt, Blaine started to catch himself picking up tiny nuances about the other man’s face and his expressions. It brought a new smile to Blaine’s face, one he didn’t try and hide. It made Blaine’s chest feel a little tight and his face warm. That had to be the hot coffee he was drinking.

He took another sip almost choking mid-sip when Kurt guessed one of the flavors as caramel. Blaine laughed and nodded, setting his coffee down. And to hear that Kurt liked it made Blaine’s stomach flip and his face became even hotter. Almost instantly Blaine sat up incredibly straight in his chair, almost as if at attention.

“Yeah?” He asked, and for some reason Blaine felt breathless. “Good. I’m really glad you liked it, I was sort of nervous. Not everyone likes cinnamon in their coffee but I’ve always loved it. I put a little bit in with every coffee drink I get.”

He was happy that Kurt was pleased with his selection. It made Blaine feel relieved and it was a rare occasion where his decisions didn’t make him feel like a failure or disappointment. He briefly thought bitterly of his parents but shooed it away, not wanting to let the idea of them ruin this moment. Because something about the way his full name sounded on Kurt’s lips created butterflies in his stomach.

“Uh, yeah!” He said. “That would be..I’d love that!” Blaine sat a moment, frozen. Was that too strong of a word to use here? Did Blaine come off too eager? He cleared his throat and tried again doing his best to keep the amount of excitement he was feeling out of his voice. “No, I think that would be fun. Maybe next time I can trust you with my coffee order.”

[casseythebee]

The Sound of Music and the Smell of Roses

Prompt: “Hello little one. We can’t wait to meet you”

Summary: You had been living with the Winchesters, Charlie, and Jack for a long time, and you and Sam had been dating and in love for a while, and you have been planning on how to tell Sam you are pregnant for a week now and today is the day 

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader 

Words: 1.5-ish 

Warning: swears, sickness, pregnancy (if that is a warning?), if there is anything else you can think of don’t hesitate to tell me

A/N: I was thinking and I might make this into a series-ish, but I probably won’t write it in order 

[(Y/N)’s Point of View]

“Dean I can’t!” You squeal. 

“You have to! Charlie counters. 

Dean and Charlie have always been your go-to buddies for this kind of stuff. Every Wednesday while Cas, Jack, and Sam are out shopping you guys huddle around the fireplace, no matter how hot it is, and just chat. Most of the time gushing over hot people, almost always girls, but a lot of the time just sharing stories and giving advice.

Today you are contemplating of you should really tell your boyfriend Sam the news, you're pregnant. You don’t know how he will react, will he be mad? Happy? Will he be scared he will turn out to be like his father? You have no clue. 

“Jack and I will go to the movies and Dean and Cas will go out to eat,” Charlie says. 

“I told you we don’t mind you guys coming!” 

She shakes her head, “No you two need your alone time. You have been cooped up with the rest of us for too long.” 

“That settles it we will help you get ready, I’ll text Cas and tell him not to say anything to Sam but make sure Jack knows he is going out. Oh, and to stall him for a bit. Plus I don’t know how much longer I can keep this in!” 

You spend the next twenty minutes finding the right outfit and doing your hair. 

“I don’t think purple works!” Dean yells. 

“No, it’s perfect.” Charlie grabs your jewelry box. “The shade is a mix of baby blue and light pink so it is representing the fact that it could be a girl or a boy.” She holds out my grandmothers black rose necklace and hands it to me. 

“Ooo do the black rose gold studs to match!” Dean chirps clapping his hands together. 

You settled on leaving your hair natural just using a bit of hairspray to keep it in place. Charlie went light on makeup just doing mascara, painting your lips coral, and contouring your cheekbones, jawline, boobs, and collarbones. Making you look like you have bigger boobs and sharper edges. A fit and flare lavender dress hugs your torso and flows out around you stopping just above your knees, it leaves your chest and shoulders bare, showing enough that it is modest but not enough that Sam won’t be intrigued and want more. 

“What do you think?” you ask, twirling in a circle while your dress fans out around you. 

“Absolutely beautiful,” Dean admires before walking over and placing a kiss on the top of your head. 

Charlie walks over and grabs both your hands in hers. “Stunning.” 

“Okay now let's set up,” you beam excitedly. 

Now you take the table in the library, where you and Sam confessed your feelings at and had your first round of sex on top of, and dust it with rose petals. Next, you take your finest china and set it on the table. They are white plates decorated with pink flowers on the edge, rose gold stainless steel silverware, and the wine glasses that you and Sam painted ourselves. On a date, you and Sam decided to get a little creative so on your way home from dinner, you bought the glasses and paint supplies and painted pink orchids on them. After that, you light a candle and place it in between the two table settings. 

“What am I even supposed to say?” you ask flopping into a chair. 

“Just tell him,” Dean began, “just don’t dance around it too much, okay?” 

“Yeah you don’t want him getting confused,” Charlie adds. “Okay, now we need to finish setting up before they come home.” 

Dean searches through the bunker trying to find a way to dim the lights while you and Charlie pick out music.

“How about Begin the Beguine?” she asks pulling the record out of the bin. 

“Too much clarinet.” 

She shifts around a bit more before pulling one out. “The Song Is You?” 

I shake my head. 

“Night and Day?” she asks pulling out another record. 

“None of these sound very romantic.” 

She rolls her eyes, “Because you aren’t listening to them. Listen to the next one and I’m sure you’ll love it. It’s called How Deep Is The Ocean?” 

And sure enough, you do. The instruments start flowing through the room, a gorgeous female voice sings like an angel is singing such loving lyrics. 

“How much do I love you? 

I'll tell you no lie 

How deep is the ocean? 

How high is the sky?” 

That is all I needed just those few words and you are hooked. “This is it. This is the one.” 

“Told you,” Charlie mumbles under breath. 

You playfully slap her arm and she goes to shove you. But before she can Dean yells, “Hey! You can’t do that she’s pregnant!” 

You smirk at her. “Aha I’m immune,” you tease. 

Dean screams from the other room and the lights dim. “Cas says he will be here any minute!” He comes sprinting into the room and almost crashes into you. 

“Woah, Woah, Woah! What are you screaming about?” Charlie asks putting her hands on his chest to stop him. 

“Cas!” He is panting slightly. “He is coming! I’m so excited!” 

You look over at him my eyes a little wide, you're nervous again. “Dean,” you whisper. “How do you think he will react?” 

His eyes skim over to you, softening. “Oh, you have no idea! He has wanted the apple pie life all his life, but he never has been able to. But now? He has the girl and now the life. He will be over the moon.” 

“Okay we need to go leave her, Dean let’s go.” Charlie grabs Dean by the arm and starts dragging him towards the door. 

“Wait!” He strides over and envelops you in a hug placing his hand on your head pulling you closer, planting a kiss on the top of your head. “I love you kiddo, good luck.” 

Charlie walks over ruffling your hair slightly and kisses your cheek. “Stay strong.” 

[Sam’s Point of View]

“Dean, what are you doing out here?” 

“Um… I would like to speak to Cas,” he says, a slight pause in between each word and his voice lifting at the end like a question. 

I give him a quizzical look and grab a few shopping bags from the back and ask Jack to help me bring in the rest. 

The door slams behind me and I walk down the steps stopping at the music. The table is decorated with rose petals and candles, and our nice china. 

All of a sudden the sound of retching is coming from the other room followed by something liquid hitting another liquid. 

“(Y/N), love?” I call out. “Is that you?” 

You whimpers. 

“Are you okay?” 

“Sammy?” you moan. 

I put the bags down, making sure not to disturb the things on the table and run to the bathroom. 

(Y/N) is sprawled out on the bathroom floor. You are leaning over the toilet puking your brains out, your hair fanned out around you. Your purple dress is disheveled. 

You groan again and sit up. “Sam,” you whisper. “You’re not supposed to see me like this. I had it all planned, and you were going to be thrilled and happy for us, b-but… but now-” Your voice cracks and you choke out a sob. Tears are pouring out of your eyes and streaking your makeup. 

“What do you mean? What do you have planned?” I ask you. “The dinner out there?” 

You are crying harder now. You gag and slap a hand over your mouth lean over the toilet. I hold back your hair and you vomit a lot. 

“Why are you sick? Did you eat something?” 

You cough again and sit up wiping your mouth on the back of your hand. “Because Sam…” You sob again. “I’m pregnant.” 

My breath catches in my throat. “Wh… what?” 

“Yeah, I’ve been wanting to tell you for a week now, Charlie and Dean helped me plan this all, and just because of fucking morning sickness.” 

“Aw sweetie, let’s get you cleaned up and then we can go eat.” 

You gag again. “I’m so sorry but I don’t know if I can ever eat again.” Another groan escapes you. 

I spend the next few minutes cleaning you up and getting you into comfy clothes, the entire time peppering kisses all over your skin. We get you shimmied into a pair of leggings and one of my flannels, it looks so big and adorable on you. I carry you bridal style onto the couch and set you down gingerly. 

Spreading your legs a little I kneel in between them placing my hands on your hips. I kiss along your stomach and stop nestling my nose. 

“Hello, little one. We can’t wait to meet you.” 

You chuckle and drag me up by my hair placing a small loving kiss on my lips and drag me so we are sitting on the couch with your head in my lap. 

We watch movies all night and eventually fall asleep to the sound of music and the smell of roses.

[silavut-the-wizard]

Silavut the Wizard, Chapter 26

Silavut goes off, and nearly causes things to fall apart. It was surprising how fast this one came out.

Silavut the Idiot

After their romp in the bath and washing up, they dried off, admiring each other’s body, talking about what just happened. They both agreed it was wonderful, it definitely helped relieve a lot of stress, but they should keep things to a minimum…for now.

Striding back into the bedroom proper, they slipped on the garments the servant brought. The clothes were soft and smooth and cool and fit perfectly.

When Silavut saw Sehlan in hers, his jaw dropped. She was absolutely stunning. The dress was form-fitting, but not overly so, and, in his eyes, made her look like an angel. “Wow,” he said barely above a whisper. Then turned quickly away.

Sehlan giggled. “Thanks. You don’t look too bad yourself.” She winked as he quickly looked back at her as he finished fixing himself up.

“Uh, thanks.” Silavut’s attire was a gentleman’s outfit.

The clothes of Trefal were extremely formal, but then it seemed as if Trefal itself, day and night, was a permanent formal occasion.

They gathered up their discarded clothes and put them in the clothes basket a servant had dropped off outside the door earlier. Then they made their way to the dining hall—to which the directions were left with the basket.

“Something smells wonderful,” Silavut remarked.

Sehlan sniffed the air. “Oh my, yes it does. I’m famished.”

They entered the dining hall and gasped. It was a feast of the finest foods fit for royalty. They had never seen such a spread. There was a small scraping noise and they turned to see Lady Anielle.

“I hope the bath was pleasant.” She smiled at them knowingly.

“Yes, it was wonderful. Thank you,” Sehlan said, smiling back, revealing nothing.

Silavut shifted, slightly uncomfortable, and she elbowed him. He stopped and stood straight.

Anielle glanced between them with a raised eyebrow, but then just said, “Go ahead, eat. It’s all for you. Once you’re finished, come see me.” She left them alone in the dining hall.

“What was that for?” Silavut asked as they sat down.

“What was what for?”

“The elbow in my side.”

“You were starting to fidget. You do that when you’re nervous or uncomfortable. She had an idea what we did, and you almost gave it away.”

“Sorry.”

“It’s OK. We just don’t want to give them any more ideas than they already have.”

“Right. Well, let’s dig in, then!” Silavut started reaching for the food, but Sehlan quickly grabbed his arm.

“Wait. Though they knew we were coming because of Vorin’s message, and they’ve treated us well so far, we still can’t know their intentions. We don’t know if the food’s been poisoned. We still have to be alert and on guard.”

“Yeah, you’re right. Except, why would they poison us if Lady Anielle wants to see us later?”

“Hmm. Interesting point. Could be slow-acting poison.” Sehlan leaned over and sniffed a few of the items. “I don’t smell anything.”

“Could be odorless and tasteless…” Silavut pointed out.

“True. We just have to make sure.”

“How?”

Sehlan thought for a moment, then snapped her fingers. “I have an idea.” She called for a servant and one promptly arrived. “Could you do us a favor and taste this food for us?” She figured if it was poisoned, not even a servant would eat it.

“Of course, my lady.” The servant took a small piece and ingested it. “Tastes fine to me. Was there something wrong with it?”

“No, nothing. Thank you.” She smiled warmly and indicated they may go.

The servant nodded. “You’re welcome. If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to call.”

“We won’t. Thanks again.”

The servant bowed out.

“I guess that settles it,” Sehlan said. “If it was poisoned, not even a servant would’ve eaten it.”

“I guess you’re right. Let’s dig in!”

They ate their fill and there was still food left enough to feed several more people.

Would be a shame if they let all this wonderful food go to waste, Silavut thought. Then he had an idea. “Let’s have this sent to our room. Would hate to see it all go to waste.”

“Good idea.”

So they did just that.

Once they were satisfied, they called a servant to escort them to see Lady Anielle.

They entered the seneschal’s office and it was as opulent and immaculate as everything else they’d seen so far. Not a surface was untouched with some kind of decoration or fancy piece of furniture or tapestry or painting.

“Welcome. Please, sit.” Lady Anielle gestured towards two plushy chairs in front of her desk.

The two sat and sank into the chairs.

“Comfy?”

They nodded.

“Good. Now on to business. Silavut, I know you were under Vorin’s care after the explosion in Eldren and your parents didn’t make it. I really am truly sorry for your loss. Sehlan, I know you had a rough childhood. I won’t go into details, but suffice it to say Vorin knew the past as well as the future, to a point.” She paused and stood up and began slowly pacing behind her desk.

“I don’t know if you knew this, Silavut, but Vorin was more than just a wizard. He was a seer. He was able to scry and see future events. They weren’t always clear, but certain ones were. He knew about the sorceress, her attempt to destroy everything, and your coming here to find out what you could about her. Unfortunately, I’m sorry to say, the library here cannot help you. You’re welcome to stay through the winter and browse the library’s archives. Just know you may not like what you find, since we have almost nothing about her. Somehow, the history of the sorceress was lost. Either nothing was recorded, or it was erased somehow.”

Lady Anielle sat back down and looked at them. “I know that’s not what you wanted to hear, but it’s the truth. If there is anything I can do, please let me know.”

Silavut asked, “Does anyone at least know her name?”

“Not that we know of. She was given a name upon birth, but after that, it was lost to history. She may have even taken a new name now.”

“Is there any clue as to where she could be?” Sehlan asked.

“Unfortunately not. After the battle with the dragon, as you may well now know, she disappeared and only her lackeys know where she is. No one has been able to track her lackeys long enough to find her location. They, too, somehow keep disappearing before anyone can find them.”

“That’s a shame. I guess we’ll just have to figure it out on our own. Thank you for taking the time to let us know.”

Silavut sat up straight on the edge of the chair, and before getting up to leave, he had one last thing to say. “If Vorin knew about all of this, why didn’t he tell me? He should have told me. Maybe I’d be better prepared. I wander aimlessly, not knowing where I’m going; I get trapped in some cursed forest; I meet Sehlan, and we’re now being chased across the land by some crazy lady’s minions—and for what? To beat her in unarmed combat, so she doesn’t destroy the universe? We don’t know where she is, no one can track her. I say phooey.”

Sehlan looked shocked. “Silavut—”

“Oh no, don’t try that ‘calm down’ crap on me. Damnit, Vorin! What the hell did you get me into?” He stood up and stormed out.

Sehlan got up and started after him. Over her shoulder, to Lady Aneille, she said, “Sorry, he can be a little passionate sometimes.”

“That’s OK, I understand. Go. He needs you.”

She nodded and ran after him. She finally caught up to him in the hallway leading to their room. “Silavut, I—”

“No, stop. OK? I don’t need your damned sympathy right now. Vorin should have told me. I was his ward, his student. I can’t believe he didn’t tell me. I thought I could trust him. I don’t know who to trust any more.”

“You can trust me,” Sehlan said quietly. “You know that.”

“Can I, really? How do I know you’re not using me to get what you want?”

She gasped. “How can you say that? After everything we’ve been through these last few months? After what we—” Tears started streaming down her cheeks. “You said you cared about me. Was that a lie? Did our pact mean nothing to you?”

“Damnit, no—that’s not—GAH!!” They had reached their room and he threw himself onto the bed. “I just don’t know what’s going on! This whole thing has been one disaster after another and I’m getting sick of it!”

Sehlan stood in the doorway, ready to turn and leave, but she wanted to hear what he had to say.

“Look, I’m sorry.” He propped himself up on his elbows to look at her. She could see the turmoil on his face, like he was being torn apart. “I do care about you, and that was one of the most amazing, wonderful things I’ve ever experienced. I just don’t want to lose anyone else, especially you. Especially more now since we’ve become even closer. I just wish things were less complicated.”

She went over and sat down next to him. “Me too.”

“Come here.” He gently reached up and pulled her down next to him. “I just don’t know what to do right now.”

“To tell you the truth, neither do I. Let’s sleep on it and see if we can come up with something tomorrow. How does that sound?”

He awkwardly nodded. “OK, yeah. Sehlan?”

“Hmm?”

“Thanks. For not running out on me. Again. That’s one thing I’m afraid of right now.”

She patted his chest. “I know. To be honest, I almost did, though. Your accusation of me using you almost made me do it. I knew you were just venting, but it hurt. Please don’t ever say anything like that again.”

“Oh, by the Powers, I am so sorry for saying that. I really didn’t mean it. I’m such an idiot!”

“I know—and yes you are, but you’re my special idiot. Come on, let’s get some sleep and we’ll figure out something tomorrow. We’ll try contacting Lothiren and see what those dragon eyes have seen.”

“You know I still don’t trust that dragon.”

“I know, but it’s our only other means of trying to find any clues about her.”

“Yeah…I guess.”

They got up and prepared for bed, shedding their garments and slipping under the smooth, cool sheets.

“Goodnight, my special idiot.”

Silavut chuckled softly. “’Night, you crazy dragon-lady.”

With that, they fell asleep snuggled tightly together.

[parkerparlour]

damaged - part 4: alone - p.p.

part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - part 4

Summary: Peter is alone. You are really gone.

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: this entire series is angst - funeral and grief

A/N: I’m crying too, y’all, don’t worry. Here’s the final part. 

Gif cred: @marvelheroes

Peter always hates this part.

The fancy clothes, the congregating to remember those that pass, and, most importantly, crying in front of others. Peter doesn't usually like being that vulnerable, he tries to avoid it, but at your funeral, he can't help it. Sometimes all one wants to do after the death of a loved one is curl up in several blankets and cry, cry, cry until nothing comes out anymore. But he's here, wearing a suit, watching your lovely, still face as you lay in the casket. Beautiful, even in death, but he knows you'd be even more beautiful alive.

The funeral was sudden (to all but him) and everyone is crying. May holds Peter close, knowing exactly how it feels to lose someone this way, mourning and sympathizing with him. Your parents can't stop tearing up as they hold each other, their baby gone. The ceremony is short, but sweet, and Peter makes a lovely speech that he spent four hours straight the day before writing.

"Y/N will be missed by all of us. She was-is a shining marker of time in our lives. But she wouldn't want us to mourn her forever. She would want us to be happy again, to laugh again. She will always have a piece of my heart, a little chunk that she took hold of and has taken alongside her into the afterlife. I can only hope that one day I see her again, even more radiant and beautiful than when she was alive."

At the reception, Peter isolates himself. He sits in one of the comfy chairs and stares at nothing in particular. Sometimes it's the lights on the floor, or a speck on the wall, but his thoughts only swirl around you. Eventually he realizes he kind of looks like a weirdo, so he digs his phone out of his pocket, a new crack down the screen from when it fell out of his pocket in his rush to help you.

He runs a thumb over the crack before turning the phone on, opening his photos and selecting the album labelled "My Love" which is filled with every picture he has of you. There's a lot of them, most of them either candids or silly selfies together. He stares at each image for far too long, but he's gazing at your face, remembering all the moments when these photos were taken.

Eventually it is time to leave and May drives them home. Peter peels off his nice suit and throws on whatever pajamas are in reach, collapsing on his bed and tucking himself in. It's far too early to sleep but he doesn't care. He can't help but feel empty and alone, isolated from everyone else who will never truly understand what it feels like to watch the one you love die in your arms.

Peter takes the next two days of school off.

He can’t follow his own advice he gave in his speech. He can't socialize right now, and pretending to smile hurts deep inside himself, because it's a lie. He wishes everyone would stop lying, that he'll find someone else, that he'll be fine, because honestly? He won't be. He's never going to find you again, because you were unique and special. Plus, Peter absolutely has PTSD. Watching you die has destroyed him a little. He's still Peter, just a little more broken, and he was already cracked before.

Tony is the only one who understands, who doesn't push him to take the suit up again. He gets it, he really does, instead telling Peter to take however long he needs. Tony had hoped this would never happen to Peter, but the world works in twisted, twisted ways as he watches this boy suffer through a lot that he did, but at a much younger age.

It takes time. Your memory becomes less painful and more joyous. He can look at the pictures and the memorabilia and not get thrust back into watching the light fade from your eyes. Instead he sees how your eyes used to twinkle, and your smile, or a remembrance of how your hands fit together with his so perfectly. The only thing that still sends him back to that dark memory is the alley, but he's changed his patrol plan to avoid it.

Eventually, as he returns to school, he relishes in the little things that remind him of you. That one weird locker that didn't fit right that you always pointed out sends your laughter ringing through his mind. The little corner of the library you used to share sends the whispered "I love you"s to him. He even wears one of your bracelets, the one you used to wear all the time, given to him by your parents, and it's the perfect little reminder of you.

But he's still not back to normal - he's smiling again, yes, but his heart is still hurting when he stays up too late and can't help but think of how if you were alive he could turn to you and have deep conversations that would last hours but he can't because you're gone. Those nights always end in tears, silent and warm, running down his face.

It took Peter two weeks to look at his suit again. The legs barely looked blue anymore, everything stained a deep red from your blood, and he can't look at it. Eventually, the city needs their hero again, so he shoves it deep in with another pile of laundry. He tries to keep his mind off the fact that that's your blood washing down the drain.

Before he can even get three blocks down his patrol, Karen is telling him where to go.

"Mr. Stark is requesting a meeting with you at the nearby pond," she informs him, showing a map to the location.

Peter furrows his brows, wondering why Tony wants to meet him. But he listens and follows the map, ending up at that same playground that Tony saved him from once before. He decides to sit on a swing this time, looking down at his feet as he rocks himself forwards and backwards slightly to fill time.

The wooshing of Tony's suit alerts Peter before he sees him, and the older man descends in front of him. Tony raises his mask, showing Peter that he's actually there. Peter pulls his mask off as well, so they can actually see eye-to-eye for whatever is about to happen. Tony takes a deep breath before beginning to speak, like he's preparing himself.

"Hey, Pete. I just wanted to make sure you're truly ready to get back into this, y'know? You've been through a lot."

Peter stiffens, stopping his motion on the swing, and his voice comes out unnaturally monotone, "I'm fine, thanks."

Tony sighs, stepping out of the suit and sitting on the swing next to him. "You don't have to lie to me, Underoos. You don't have to be so strong all the time - heroes can need help, too."

Peter stares harshly at him, waiting, hesitant of where this is going. His grip is tight on the handles of the swing, the cold metal pressing against his warm skin through his suit.

"I'm not saying you should still be on break from being a hero - what I'm saying is you might want professional help when you're not being a hero. With what you saw, what you experienced, it can mess you up. I know that first-hand, Pete. I have a lovely psychologist, who knows all about what we do, who can help you. Alright?"

Peter looks away, unsure about this. He's so used to holding himself up, keeping himself fine. He doesn't want to burden others with his emotions and feelings, let alone burden May or Ned. He doesn't want pity, he just wants to talk about what he's been through, and have someone listen. Maybe this could work?

As Peter is still thinking, Tony keeps talking. "I've already scheduled an initial appointment. You don't even need to start right away, just meet her, talk with her a little, see if you think it'd help. I'll pay for everything, all you need to do is show up."

Peter looks back at him, no longer holding himself as stiff as before. What has he got to lose?

"Sure, Mr. Stark, I'll go. I'll try it out."

Tony visibly relaxes. He was so worried that Peter would outright just say no, not listen to him, and the boy would suffer like he did. Tony refused professional help far longer than he should have, and he's paid the price for it. The longer you wait, the harder it is to reverse the damage you do to yourself.

"Great, thanks, Peter. I'll have Happy text you the details, but it's for next Tuesday at 4PM, just so you can make sure your schedule is clear."

Peter nods and Tony stands up, but he hesitates before stepping into the suit. He turns back, ruffling Peter's hair. "Y/N would be proud of you for being so strong, but she'd also want you to not destroy yourself in the process. This'll be good for you, alright?"

At the mention of your name, Peter has quickly blink away tears. "Y-yeah. Thank you for the help, Mr. Stark."

Tony gives him a sad smile before stepping into the suit and boosting up a bit. "I expect to hear that Happy escorted you next Tuesday! Don't flake on me, Underoos!"

Peter nods again, watching as Tony flies away into the night sky.

He does go to the appointment. It goes fantastically, and the lady, Mrs. J, quickly realizes that Peter just needs someone who will listen, and she's happy to provide. Peter is her youngest ever patient and she is saddened by what he went through, but is hopeful that he will come out of all this an even better person than he was before. And he was pretty damn amazing before based on how much he cared about you and his family and everyone. But mostly you since that's who he's there to talk about.

Peter starts going twice a week, with Happy escorting him right after school on all those days. Mrs. J starts giving him some coping methods to try if he gets overwhelmed outside of their meetings; journaling ends up working best. Peter often will either take a picture of where he is or what he's doing at the moment or he'll use the image that spurred up the emotions. It's a digital journal, because he finds it much faster to type, and he just vents and throws all his emotions up on the page. He shares some of those with Mrs. J, who will read them the hour before their meeting. He's clearly making progress. Slow progress, but progress nonetheless.

Peter still feels alone in his heart, but he's slowly feeling less alone in the physical world. He's spending more time with Ned and MJ, and making more of an effort to spend evenings with May. He's cut back on patrols - he's getting slowly over the guilt he feels if he's not at every crime in the city. After all, he truly can't be everywhere at once, and he's starting to realize that. He can't save the entire city by himself. Something will always slip under the radar.

So Peter's just living for today. He's cherishing every little moment that brings him joy, because he didn't cherish them enough before. That's his big takeaway from all this. Life is so brief and temporary and one can never know when they'll be left alone.

((fin))

“damaged” tags: @onceuponateenpanwolfian @hista-girl @idksolonya @wannabenice @thehanneloner

Thank you for reading! I hope you liked this series! <3

[kdfrqqg]

Heaven’s Comfort Part 5

Cas X Reader Word count: 3,101 Warnings: Smut, Oral, language

Summary: Cas and Reader’s relationship heats up after a deeply personal hunt.

Catch up: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

A day had passed since the peck on the cheek; Castiel had spent the night in your bed simply embracing you, once again.  You woke up completely refreshed but alone.  You wondered where Cas had gone off to but you weren’t concerned because you were ready to take on the day.  Quickly, you remembered it was Saturday and the only thing that was going to get done today was that Dean would wash the car.  Sam made it a point not to find a case on the weekends, if possible.  You looked at your phone, it was already 10 am.  You must have forgotten to set your alarm or Cas turned it off knowing you would want to rest after yesterday.

Wandering though out the bunker, your first stop was the kitchen, you still smelled cooked bacon.  There was a plate of food in spot; Dean must have left it for you.  It was good, a side of bacon with potatoes and onions and he used real butter, bless that man.  After eating, you of course found yourself in the library; you were in search of a book that you hadn’t read yet.  You pulled a few books down and started a couple of chapters in each.  Hours past, they were all Men of Letter’s journals or lore books; you weren’t really interested in that right now.   You wanted a novel, something with a story that could hold your attention for hours.  You went to your bedroom to look through your personal stash.  Seriously, did I really read all of these? You thought.  You must have finished your last brown paper bag worth of books two weeks ago and you hadn’t gone shopping for cheap books since.  Finally, you remembered that bargain basement romance novel you bought the first day of the hunt this week.  You didn’t care that it was dry and corny, you were desperate. Now, where did you put it?  You found the book buried under dirty clothes in your duffel.   You wanted to read in bed but it was too early for PJs so you just took off your shirt and jeans.  You propped yourself up on about a half dozen pillows.  You settled in to read with only your favorite pair of blue fuzzy socks and matching black bra and panty set. You were super comfy, sinking into spot as you picked up where you left off the other day, finding the page you had turned down.  Chapter seven was really when the book started to get good.  Celeste was watching Blake, the farm hand; throw bales of hay, while she sipped lemonade in the kitchen of her daddy’s farm house.  It was super cheesy.  You were picturing Cas not Blake throwing the hay, his lean, tanned body all sweaty from hard work and the sun.  You were getting turned on.  You weren’t sure if it was the book or if you were just really horny.  About a week or two ago now, you tried to touch yourself in the shower but it didn’t really work.  You needed your bed; you needed to lie down so you were left unsatisfied and still frustrated.  It was hard, normally, you were all alone in your room and you could touch yourself as much as you wanted.  Unfortunately, with the never sleeping Cas, lying next to you, your opportunities were limited.  You started to slowly drag your knuckles down the edge of your body.  Your left hand began to grope your breast hard, rubbing across your bra trying to harden your nipple.  All of a sudden you heard a quick knock on the door, you sat straight up. You hadn’t even gotten your hand in your panties yet.    You sighed and recited a quick mantra in your head a few times to calm yourself, ‘Act like everything is fine, Cas doesn’t know what you were doing.’ “Hey there you are.” Cas said casually, stepping into your room with a stack of books in his hand and a smile on his face, “I thought you’d be in the library.” “I was but I couldn’t find anything I wanted to read.” You flashed him the book you were working on today.  You realized that he may not understand why there is some big breasted woman and a Fabio wanna be on the front of the cover.  Most of the books that you had read together were period works of fiction and everyone was normally covered, all the time.   He didn’t even ask if he could join you, yesterday you had made that perfectly clear you wanted him near you but right now you wanted some alone time.  You thought about saying something but you bit your tongue once you saw him begin to strip down.  Shit, it was like all your fantasies coming true.   Fuck, don’t look, you told yourself and you breathed out loudly.  Cas had only recently become comfortable stripping down to just his underwear.  He turned around to fold his clothes neatly in the chair, his toned back muscles flexed as he moved; they were in serious need of being rubbed down with massage oils.  You were getting so turned on, this here was the torture that you lived with recently, but of course everything else was great.  You smiled when you realized he was wearing a pair of the boxer briefs you had purchased for him a few weeks ago.  Remembering, telling the guys at the store, ‘I don’t care if he is an angel; it’s gross that he only owns one pair of underwear.  I am buying these.  End of discussion!’  You wanted to take it slow for him, but right now you were so needy.  You told yourself, ‘(Y/N), you can do this, you can lie next to Cas, reading your book and everything will be fine.’  You exhaled loudly trying to reset your mind. He climbed on top of the sheets and adjusted his pillows to find a comfortable position.  No words were spoken just shy glances and coy smiles were shared.  His scent was like honey and peppermint today, why did he have to look and smell so damn good.  He opened his book and you continued to read yours.  You were ok for about thirty minutes; you had time to calm down.  Then the words on the page taunted you, TWITCHING, HUNGER, PRESSED. They just popped off the page and sent a shock wave down your whole body to your core.  You couldn’t help yourself your left hand began to trace down your frame again.  Your touch felt so good, you moaned quietly but it was loud enough for Cas to hear you.  Out your peripheral vision, you saw Cas look at you and raise his eye brows.  You didn’t dare make direct eye contact.  You thought you should stop reading this but you didn’t, you were now addicted.  Your hand moved closer to your inner thigh before you traced it back up your body.  Your fingers grazed over your clavicle then over your supple cleavage.  Another moan sprang from your mouth, shit; it was like your body was betraying you.  You sucked your lips into your mouth, you couldn’t moan again. “Your book must be good?” Cas asked.  You didn’t say anything; you couldn’t be sure what was going to come out of your mouth.   “If it’s good, you should read it to me.” His suggestion brought a look of embarrassment to your face that he had never seen.  No one would have ever accused you of being shy so for you to be embarrassed it was out of character for you.   “Cas, ummm… I don’t think that would be very appropriate.” You told him.  He had a look of confusion and tilted his head slightly at you. “I don’t understand. We read all the time together.” He emphasized. “Yeah, we do but this is a romance novel.” You tried to explain. “We read Pride and Prejudice and that was a romance.”  He informed you. “Well, this is very different than P&P, Cas.” You mumbled, “I’m just not comfortable reading this out loud to you.” you reasoned with him more. “I still don’t understand?” now he was asking and you felt a need to tell him something. “Because this is-is…” you huffed, thinking of the correct words, “the literary equivalent of Dean’s porn!”  His face went blank as he tried to process what you just said.  He had watched porn before and knew what physical effects it had on his own vessel, so he should know what it was currently doing to you; you at least hoped he knew. “Dean likes his porn and clearly you are enjoying this book.  I still think you should read it to me.  Maybe it’s something that I will also enjoy.” “Cas…” you whined.  His baby blues gently looked into yours.  You were putty; you might as well not fight it and he knew that he had won you over.   With a grin, he said, “Oh and make those voices too.”  You shot him a death stare before your sank deep down the bed, covering your face with the book from the near certain mortification you were about to experience.   You breathed out loudly from under the book, ok; you were going to do this.  One swift motion, you sat up, turned to him and crossed your legs.  You flipped back to the beginning of chapter nine and began to read out loud.

Celeste’s father had left the property for an overnight business trip.  After watching, Blake shoveling bales of hay almost all morning she knew that he would desire refreshment and maybe a nice rub down.  She found Blake in the barn with his shirt off.  Her sex ached as she gazed upon his toned skin.  

You continued to read a couple of pages and then the pre-sex panting and moaning was coming up.  You weren’t sure how to handle this.  Do you go full force or read it with a straight face?  At first you were timid.

“Oh Blake!” She gasped.

Cas looked interested when you moaned a little.  He started to stare at your lips as you read; you loved the way he looked at you. You were louder this time with more passion in your voice.

“I want you! Please! Blake! Don’t tease me!” Celeste moaned.  

Blake pushed Celeste’s panties to the side as he forcefully shoved his first two fingers inside of Celeste’s sex.

“Oh! Yes Blake! More! More! Please Blake!” Celeste’s groans filled the small barn.  

Cas stopped you, “(Y/N) can you read that page again?” he asked shyly.  Really? You thought, this what already difficult.  “Can you also change Blake’s name to mine?” he requested.   “Wait, what?” you asked back.  Trying to process what you just heard. “I want to hear you say my name the way you said his.” You looked down biting your bottom lip, quickly covered your face with the book again as you contemplated his request.  You pulled the book away from your face and stared back at Cas, a fiendish smile crept across your face.  You were confident now, with a sultry bed room voice you read.

“Oh Cas!” She gasped.

Your core clinched the first time your said his name like that.  Your right hand caressed your outer thigh as you rutted your covered pussy into the bed for some relief.  

“I want you! Please! Cas! Don’t tease me!” (Y/N) moaned.  

You were louder this time, if the guys had been in the hallway they would have heard you.  Cas watched, his eyes were blown dark with lust, as you tried to get your release without being touched.  You read the next line quickly in your head and placed the book face down on the bed.  You looked Cas right in his smoldering almond shaped eyes and moaned loudly.

“Oh! Yes Cas!” you closed your eyes, tilting your head back and you bit your bottom lip again with a smile, you body shivered before the next phrase came out, “More! More! Please Cas!”

Before you opened your eyes, the space between your lips became nonexistence as Cas pressed you into the mattress.  Your lips had already become flushed and full, his lips tingled as he carefully filled your open mouth with his tongue.  You synced your pressure of your kisses to his; letting him set the pace.  His honey flavored lips were absolutely delicious as his hand glided over your lower neck along your collarbone while the other wrapped tighter around your waist.  Cas stopped kissing you for a moment, searching your face for any hesitation, there was none.  He steadily peppered kisses from your jaw line down to the top line of your bra.  You closed your eyes taking in the feeling of his fingers and lips over your body.  Moans gently released from your mouth, but they were softer now.   “Why did I wait so long?” He questioned you.  A toothy smile spread across your face, you weren’t going to respond to that, instead you grabbed the back of his head and pull him into a deep kiss.  His hand moved from your chest down your torso to your bent closed knees.  He smoothly pressed his hand in between your legs; the feeling sent a pulse straight to your core.  You broke away from the kiss and threw your head back as a low growl of a moan escaped your lips.  You were so aroused that it wasn’t going to take much to push you over your edge.  Cas’ expanding erection rubbed against your outer thigh, you squirmed from his touch needing more.  You reached to put your hand down his boxers, he stopped you, pinning both of your hands above your head.  The smile in his eyes was one you had never seen, “I just want to touch you,” he swiftly sucked you into his kiss; you barely let out an OK, before he sprinkled more kisses on your neck.  The way his stubble coasted across your tender skin made your giggle and squirm a little.  You loved that he could hold you down with just one hand.  He finally let you go as both of his hands streamed down your edge of your shape.  He repositioned himself between your legs; he crept down your body rapidly kissing every inch he could.  You wanted to see him better, you propped yourself on your elbows and reached behind you to undo the hook of your bra.  You didn’t want him to fumble and get flustered with the hook but you wanted him to be the one to expose your breasts.  He made it to your pussy, your black panties were soaked by now, his kisses were slow and more deliberate as he kissed the outer edges of your panties.  “May I touch you here?” he asked. Those words sent another shock though you, your legs clenched around his shoulders as you caressed your engorged breasts. “Yes! Cas! Please!” you moaned with a satisfied smile.   He moved back up your body now looking at you directly, nervously he said, “My experience in this area is limited. I don’t want to disappoint you.” You reassured him, “What you are doing is perfect, Honey!  I promise I won’t be disappointed.” You grinded delicately against him and claimed another exquisite kiss from those perfect chapped lips.  He carefully slid your bra off your shoulders, kissing and caressing as every new piece of flesh was bared to his love.  Your hands searched across his back touching the little ripples of muscle.  Then his tongue licked the outer rim of your nipple, he slipped his hand between your bodies and down your panties.  Your hands let go him as you laid back ready for ecstasy.  You were so hungry for him; your walls were already quivering as Cas moved his fingers through your slick folds.  His mouth circled your nipple as he tasted you even more, your normally small breast had swelled to the point that they had started to hurt.  One of your hands started to brush against your breast while Cas sucked hard on your nipple.  Incoherent words dibbled from your mouth, Cas loved to see this way.  It pushed him to vigorously rub your clit, while he nestled in between your breasts.  His hand pulsated in side you.  Finally, you released a loud moan, “Oh Cas!” as you climaxed from his touch.  It was difficult to catch your breath. “Was that good (Y/N)?” he asked.   “Cas, that was wonderful!”  You gasped, pressing him in a deep kiss. It only took you a moment to recover, you used your body weight to propel yourself on top of Cas.  “Now it’s my turn.” You informed him; he didn’t try and stop you this time.  You had been waiting to touch him for so long.  You slithered down his body as you removed his boxers revealing his long thick perfect cock.  You settled between his legs and pumped his shaft with two hands because he was just that long.   “(Y/N)! Oh! Yes!” he moaned.  That was all the encouragement you needed to hear but you wanted to tease him a bit.  You gently pressed kisses into his hip bone, continuing to stoke his twitching length.  Your tongue made a zig zag pattern across his stomach and found its way down to the tip of his cock.  You licked a strip or two up and down his dick making sure to lap up any pre-cum forming at his head.  You were delightfully surprised that it tasted sweet, like cinnamon and vanilla. “Do you want me to continue?” you asked placing your finger to your mouth. “Yes! Please!” he pleaded.  Your lips sank down on his shaft; you began to bob your head and relaxing your jaw.  He thrust his hips up; your sucking became more intense as his moans became bolder.    His hand wrapped around your locks near the back of your head.  He wanted more and you were going to give it to him.  You meticulously moved over his cock, almost coming all the way off before sliding right back on.  He bucked more into your mouth.  He was about to pop.  You were unrelenting until finally he pressed you firmly down on his cock, “Damn! (Y/N)!,” he screamed out,  then his warm sweet cum poured in your mouth.   The two of you were content and fell into each other’s arms. I love yous were shared during the course of the evening as you explored each other more deeply and your bodies became one.

@greenappleeyes @bandobsession98 @jensen-jarpad​

I love all the likes and reblogs but I really do want your feedback. Please leave me a comment; let me know what worked or what didn’t. If you hated it let me know what I could do different. It may determine how I write my next fic.

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[thewritingsofafemalehunter]

Beauty and the Beast Epilogue

A/N: HA HA! I bet you thought you saw the last of this series! And well honestly I thought I had too, but you can thank @clea-nightingale and @juniorhuntersam, for this last and final chapter (and this time I’m serious this is the last chapter) because @clea-nightingale planted the idea in my head and @juniorhuntersam encouraged it. Not that I’m upset about it I actually think this was a really good idea and it turned out ok, so without anymore of my rabbling please enjoy the final chapter.

Tags: @mery-magizoologist, @nanie5, @annewski, @juniorhuntersam, @clea-nightingale

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Word count: 3779

Warnings: fluff

~A few minutes later~

”W-Wow that’s a lot to take in.” Sam muttered as he sat in one of the library chairs surrounded by the others. 

“Trust me I know the feeling.” (Y/N) responded a small smile on her face. She was sitting next to Dean, who had one of his hands resting on her thigh, the heat from his large hand calming her still frayed emotions. Even though she knew most of what Dean and the others had relayed to Sam most of it was a lot to take in especially after everything that had happened, and she would be lying if she said that she wasn’t starting to get a headache from all of this over load of emotions and information. Sam smiled softly at her before looking back at Dean and the others.

    “So let me get this straight I’ve been in a coma for five years, and you guys have been trapped in the bunker for that same amount of time except for Dean who could come and go as a demon, and for that entire time he was a demon, and all of this was because of that witch that we had been hunting?” Sam motioned with his hands as he talked pointing from Charlie and the others to Dean.

    “Yep, told you man witches suck.” Dean responded and Sam rolled his eyes fondly before looking at (Y/N) who shifted slightly still finding it weird that Sam was suddenly up and walking and talking like he hadn’t just been in a five year coma. Dean squeezed her thigh reassuringly and she glanced at him smiling at him before looking back at Sam.

    “And you're the reason the curse was broken because you fell in love with my demon of a brother who nearly died because of the guy we just salted and burned.” Sam stated more than asked and she nodded, the image of the flames consuming Michael’s body in a burial that she thought unfit for him.

    “It would appear to be that way yes.” She said and Sam nodded his lips pursing slightly in thought. (Y/N) wasn’t going to lie she was glad that all of that was done and over with, Michael was gone, Dean was alive and no longer a demon, and Sam was awake which was a happy thing for Dean, and her father was-

    “Shit.” (Y/N) cursed loudly suddenly jumping up from her seat startling the others, Dean stood up quickly worry in his eyes as he looked at her.

    “(Y/N) what’s wrong?” Dean asked and (Y/N) was mentally kicking herself as she looked up at Dean.

    “Shit, fuck.” She continued to curse as she moved away from Dean hurrying towards the garage hallway, the others not wasting any time in following her.

    “(Y/N)! What’s going on?!” Dean spoke with urgency as he easily kept stride with her.

    “My dad Dean! I completely forgot that he was tied up back at the house with that son of a bitch’s friend pointing a gun at his head! I forgot in all the things going on here! I have to get home and make sure he’s alright!” She could hear the panic in her own voice as she felt it rise up inside her as she hurried into the garage.

    “Hey, hey, (Y/N) relax I’m sure your dad is fine alright, just breath, ok?” Dean asked as he grabbed her shoulders turning her arnd to face him and she stared at him only slightly perplexed at how kind he was being. It was going to take her a while to get used to this human Dean who showed slightly more emotions than demon Dean and was a hell of a lot more open about being nice to her.

    “I am breathing Dean, I need to get home and make sure he’s alright.” She urged and Dean nodded.

    “Alright we’ll go, but I’m driving you look like you're about to have a panic attack.” Dean dropped his hands from her shoulders and she nodded panic still swirling rapidly inside her chest. Dean turned around to look at the others.

    “You guys all set with staying here?” Dean asked and they nodded.

    “Yeah we’ll be fine, we can fill Sam in on the rest of the stuff he missed.” Kevin answered and Dean nodded.

    “You sure you won’t need me to come along? I mean I get it that I just woke up from a coma but I can still handle myself in a fight.” Sam said and both Dean and (Y/N) shook their heads.

    “No it’s just Zachariah, he’s not much without Michael.” The name tasted like bile in her mouth and she swallowed to get rid of the taste.

    “Yeah, we'll be fine Sammy, you just stay here.” Dean stated and Sam looked at him before nodding slightly.

    “Dean, if you’re going to take forever just give me the keys and I’ll go myself.” (Y/N) spoke both annoyed and panicky, turning around Dean pulled the keys from his pocket.

    “Alright, alright let’s go.” Dean walked up to the car and (Y/N) hurried after him getting into the passenger seat and a few minutes later they were pulling out of the garage and driving down the road.

    A few minutes later (Y/N) practically flew out of the car running across the front lawn and jumping up onto the porch, she burst into the house causing Zachariah to jump up off the couch and cry out in surprise. Spinning around Zachariah looked at her confusion morphing his face.

    “Where’s Michael?” Zachariah asked as he looked between (Y/N) and Dean as he walked in besides her.

    “He left, so help me god Zachariah if you hurt my father I will kill you to.” She growled out and Zachariah’s face paled in horror as he took a step back holding his hands up in surrender the gun still in one hand.

    “I didn’t hurt him I swear, I was only doing what Michael told me to do and what do you mean he left?” Zachariah took a step back when (Y/N) began walking towards him afraid that she was going to punch him but instead she took the gun from him willingly handing it over glad to no longer be holding it.

    “I mean he just up and disappeared after what happened with Dean I don’t know where he went but he left.” (Y/N) answered glaring at Zachariah as she clicked the safety on and took the clip out of the gun before walking over to her father setting the gun down on the desk.

    “He left? How could he just leave like that?” Zachariah asked staring at her in shock but she ignored him instead pulling out Dean’s knife and began sawing at the ropes tying her father up.

    “You ok Dad?” She asked ignoring whatever Dean was saying to Zachariah as she worked only pausing for  a second and looking over when she heard the front door slam closed and Dean was the only one standing there.

“I’m fine, are you alright, that bastard didn’t hurt you did he?” Bobby asked as he stood up once he was free and (Y/N) shook her head.

“No more than he already had when we were here.” She answered and he nodded before quickly pulling her into a hug.

    “Thank god you're ok, now who is the idjit standing in the middle of my living room?” Bobby asked when she pulled out of the hug and she giggled a little walking away from her father and over to Dean.

    “Dad this is Dean, the guy I was staying with for the past month or so. Dean this is my father Bobby Singer.” (Y/N) stated and Bobby looked at Dean with a scrutinizing gaze looking him up and down. (Y/N) stood besides Dean completely unfazed by what her father was doing while Dean shifted around a little, clearly somewhat nervous about the look he was getting from her dad. The silence in the room seemed to stretch out for several minutes but was really only a few seconds as Dean finally broke the silence.

    “It’s nice to finally get to meet you sir.” Dean answered, letting go of (Y/N)’s hand and walking up to Bobby sticking his hand out for him to shake.

    “So you're the boy that’s been housing my daughter for the last month?” Bobby asked shaking Dean’s hand and Dean nodded in confirmation.

    “Yes, sir.” Dean answered letting go of Bobby’s hand and letting it fall back to his side.

“Thank you for keeping her safe and you don’t have to keep calling me sir boy, Bobby will be just fine.” Bobby stated and Dean looked at him for a few seconds before nodding.

    “Alright Bobby.” Dean stated and Bobby nodded in satisfaction before looking at (Y/N).

    “So you wanna finally tell me the whole story as to what happened or are you gonna keep me in the dark still?” Bobby asked crossing his arm over his chest and (Y/N) smiled a little sheepishly at him glancing at Dean.

    “Then your gonna want to sit down dad, it’s a long story.” She responded and Bobby raised an eyebrow at her before sitting down and she began telling him the story, Dean not leaving her side throughout it.

~2 years and 6 months later~

    (Y/N) was laid out on the hood of the Impala, her hands behind her head and her eyes trained on the starry night sky a blissful smile on her face. They had been on their way to a hunt in Maine when they had decided to pull over to the side of the road for some much needed sleep when none of them could keep their eyes open any longer. The squeaking of the Impala’s door opening caused her to look away from the sky and at the driver’s door watching as Dean climbed out of the Impala rubbing sleep from his eyes and she felt her smile widened at the sight of him, he truly was adorable when he was sleepy.

    “Hey.” (Y/N) greeted as Dean looked at her in confusion.

    “What are you doing out here?” He mumbled and she giggled watching as he carefully slid onto the hood of the car besides her trying not to jostle the car too much waking a sleeping Sam in the back seat.

    “It got to hot in the car and while you're comfy and all Dean I was also uncomfortable.”  (Y/N) answered sliding closer to Dean once he was settled and snuggled into his side, one of his arms slipping under her waist holding her close. He chuckled and she smiled feeling his head coming to lay on top of hers.

    “Understandable, how long have you been out here?” He asked and (Y/N) hesitated not really knowing how long she’d been out here, having left her phone in the car.

    “No idea, a while I guess.” She shrugged as best she could, her gaze returning to the sky as Dean hummed in response. A peaceful, comfortable, silence washed over the two of them and (Y/N) was almost certain that Dean had fallen asleep again from how steady his breathing had gotten, and she smiled enjoying the comfort he was giving her. Closing her eyes, she laid her head on Dean’s chest feeling sleep start to creep back up on her but before sleep could fully take hold of her she felt Dean shift around underneath her shaking the sleep away from her.

    “(Y/N)?” Dean’s voice was barely a whisper, clearly checking to see if she was awake, lifting her head out from underneath his she looked up at him confused.

    “What is it?” She watched as a nervous smile came to Dean’s face and she looked back down at his hands, feeling the arm around her waist move and her mouth fell open at the sight of the little black box he opened to reveal a simple yet elegant ring. The diamond wasn’t big but it was still noticeable and it was only attached to a gold band, it may not have been anything fancy but to a hunter this was probably six months worth of hustling money.

    “Will you marry me? I mean I know we’re hunters and everything and most of the times, if not all the times, hunters don’t get a happy ending but I love you (Y/N) and I want to try this. I want to be with you for the rest of the time that we have together.” Dean said and she looked from the ring up to his face in a stunned silence. She couldn’t believe what was going on right now, this was the last thing she had expected from Dean sure they had been dating for little over two years now but still she never thought this would happen.

    “Sweetheart say something, please.” Dean asked and she snapped out of her silence glancing back at the ring and then up at him.

    “Are you serious?” She asked and watched as confusion marred his face.

    “As a heart attack, so is that a yes?” Hope laced his words and (Y/N) smiled tears pricking at her eyes as she shifted around and gently grabbed his face, pulling him down and kissing him.

    “Yes Dean, I’ll marry you.” She answered him once she pulled out of the kiss and a large, almost goofy smile grew on his face as he took the ring out of the box and with one hand hand grabbed hers and slipped the ring on her finger. Grabbing his face again she kissed him pouring as much love into the kiss as possible, and she smiled into when she felt him kiss her back. His arm tightened around her waist, as he pulled her up on top of him, the kiss wasn’t rushed or overly heated it was full of love and they didn’t pull away until their lungs were burning with the need for air.

    “I love you, Dean.” (Y/N) panted out smiling at Dean.

    “I love you too sweetheart.” Dean breathed back before pulling her into another kiss.

~6 months later~

    (Y/N) smiled to herself as she smoothed her hands down the skirt of her slightly puffy snow white skirt of her dress a soft smile on her face as she looked herself over. Her hair was up in the most intricate and princess like bun that she had ever seen, Charlie had been the one to do her hair after looking up some instructions and following it and she had to admit Charlie had done an amazing job. Smiling to herself she smoothed her hands down her dress again loving the feeling of the fabric underneath her fingers and the way it looked on her. Looking around the side room in the church she felt her smile only widen glad for once that as a hunter her and Dean were getting something good and fancy in their life even if ninety percent had been favors her father, and her herself, had called in from other hunters and people they had helped.

    “Oh (Y/N) you look beautiful.” Charlie breathed out from behind her and she spun around to face her as she walked into the room, her father trailing behind her.

    “You look just like your mother did on our wedding day.” She looked at her dad seeing the sad smile on his face, and she smiled back him a small blush creepy across her cheeks.

    “Thanks you two.” (Y/N) muttered back looking down at her feet in embarrassment.

    “They’re ready for you, you ready to go?” Charlie asked her voice only a little choked up as she look at (Y/N). Quickly (Y/N) snatched the bouquet of flowers off the little table that had been set up and nodded once, careful of her hair.

    “Ready.” She smiled ignoring the feeling of butterflies fluttering in her stomach as she walked up to her father linking arms with him once they were all out of the room. Charlie signaled the others in the main hall and music started playing over the crap stereos of a boom box by the alter, looking back (Y/N) Charlie smiled before grabbing her own mini bouquet and starting down the aisle.

    “Are  you sure you want to go through with this?” Bobby jokingly whispered in her ear as they took their positions and (Y/N) smiled looking at her father, humor and seriousness dancing in her eyes as she looked at him.

    “More sure than I have been about anything else dad.” She responded and Bobby smiled back at her.

    “Good.” Looking forward the two of them started walking down the aisle, the whole time her eyes trained on Dean. Internally she was smiling smugly at the look of amazement and adoration that crossed Dean’s face when he saw her, and she felt a much darker blush than from earlier spread across her cheeks. There wasn’t many people, just the pastor (a old hunting buddy of her father’s), Sam, Kevin, and Cas other than that the rest of the church and pews were empty, not that any of them minded this was both a safety thing as well as something both the groom and the bride wanted a small wedding.

A thousand different emotions seemed to swirl insider (Y/N) at once happiness, nervousness, love, fear, want, excitement, and everything in between and she had to fight back the tears as her emotions threatened to manifest into a physical form.  She watched though as Dean ducked his head looking away from her for a quick minute, his hand coming up to wipe something off his face and she felt a few tears roll down her face too but didn’t bother to wipe them away. When they reached the end of the aisle it was like the world had narrowed down so that it was only her and Dean and she wanted nothing more than to grab his face and kiss him. And in that moment she could swear on her own soul that she had never seen Dean look more handsome than he didn in this moment, he was wearing his black FBI suit the one that was bought at a Goodwill and just a tad to tight on him putting a lot of emphasis on his shoulders, chest, and arms. There was the beginnings of a scruff on his face and she could already imagine the scratch feeling of the scruff against her fingers and the smile on her face grew as another tear rolled down her cheeks, another tear mirroring Dean’s as one rolled down his. Turning around slightly she passed the bouquet to Charlie as her father handed over her hand to Dean.

    “You better keep treating her right idjit or else your gonna have to answer to her.” Bobby whispered the threat and Dean smiled his eyes never leaving hers as he took her hand.

    “Always sir.” She smiled back at him, her heart swelling at the sight of the love and adoration in Dean’s eyes. She bit her lip when she felt Dean squeeze her hand keeping herself from letting more tears flow as she squeezed back.

    “Do you (Y/N) (Y/M/N) Singer take Dean Henry Winchester to be your lawfully wedded husband in sickness and health, in the good and the bad times, till death do you part?” The priest looked at (Y/N) and she glanced at the priest before looking back at Dean a soft happy smile spreading across her face.

    “I do.” (Y/N) breathed out a large happy smile coming across Dean’s face as his hands squeezed hers and she squeezed back.

    “Do you Dean Henry Winchester, take (Y/N) (Y/M/N) Singer to be your lawfully wedded wife in sickness and health, in the good and the bad times?” The priest looked at Dean but his eyes never left (Y/N)’s both of them fighting the urge to just kiss each other right now.

    “I do.” Dean said it firmly and her smile widened if that was possible, her cheeks hurting from all the smiling she was doing.

    “Do you have the rings?” The priest asked glancing at the two of them.

    “Charlie?” “Sam?” (Y/N) glanced back at Charlie while Dean looked back at Sam the two of them hurrying to produce the wedding bands. (Y/N)’s was a gold wedding band she had bought from a pawn store after saving up months of hustling pool and poker, while Dean’s was his mother’s wedding band a ring that she had seen only a handful of times during the planning of the wedding.

    “Dean, repeat after me, With this ring,” The priest started. “With this ring,” “I thee wed (Y/N) (Y/M/N) Singer,” “I thee wed (Y/N) (Y/M/N) Singer.” Dean’s tone wavered only slightly and despite her best efforts (Y/N) felt tears roll down her cheeks. “As my wife, my companion, my best friend, forever and always for as long as I live.” “As my wife, my companion, my best friend, forever and always for as long as I live.” Dean stated as he slipped his mother’s ring onto (Y/N)’s finger and as she watched the ring slip onto her fingers she felt more tears roll down her face, unable to keep all her emotions in check.

    “Now (Y/N) you. With this ring,” “With this ring,” “I thee wed Dean Henry Winchester,” “I thee wed Dean Henry Winchester,” “As my husband, my companion, my best friend, forever and always.” “As my husband, my companion, my best friend, forever and always.” (Y/N)’s voice wobbled the whole time with barely held back tears as she slipped the ring on to Dean’s finger and the priest smiled.

    “With the power invested in me by God and the state of Kansas I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may kiss the bride.” The priest had barely managed to get his last word out before Dean was pulling (Y/N) against him kissing her with as much love and passion he could manage in one kiss. (Y/N) melted into him her arms coming up to wrap around his neck as she kissed him back with just as much love and passion the cheers and clapping of the others fading into the background as they kissed.