nonon-van

[justalittlejess]

sobbing over s14e7. dean being strong enough to take jack to live the way he wants, getting burgers, letting him drive baby, going fishing (bc it was dean’s happiest memory with his dad), good lord it breaks my heart

[deancodedinthewater]

Scarecrow Part 4

Dean gave up on the window hours ago. The door was a different story. And honestly he probably should have started with it. It was absolutely ridiculous for him to have even considered squeezing his 6’1” ass out of that tiny window. Even if he hadn’t been on T for 8 years he wouldn’t be that small. So, Dean was trying the door and having very little luck. It was bolted from the outside so there was no hope of picking it.

“I don’t understand,” Emily said. Again. “They’re going to kill us?”

“Sacrifice us,” Dean clarified as he gave up on the door and came back down the stairs. “Which is, I don’t know, classier. I guess?” He stopped in front of Emily with a shrug. “You really didn’t know anything about this, did you?”

“About what?” Emily asked, her voice raising in pitch and volume as she spiralled. “The scarecrow god? My family sacrificing people? I can’t believe any of this.” She threw her hands out to the side, shaking her head.

“Well, you better start believing,” Dean told her. “I know it’s hard but I am going to need your help.”

Emily closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them again she seemed calmer. Whether she was masking her feelings or not Dean couldn’t really tell. Whatever she was doing, he hoped she could keep it up until they got out of her. 

“Okay,” she told him.

“Now, we can destroy the scarecrow,” Dean started, pacing back to the window. “But we gotta find the tree.”

“What tree?”

“Maybe you can help me with that,” Dean continued, ignoring the question. They didn’t have time for him to explain anymore than he already had. “It would be really old. The locals would treat it with a lot of respect, you know, like it was sacred.”

Emily thought for a moment and Dean kept his eyes on her. Scanning across her face looking for any trace of emotion. “There’s this one apple tree,” she finally said. “The immigrants brought it over with them. They call it the First Tree.”

“Is it in the Orchard?” Dean asked, patting his thighs. They were getting somewhere.

“Yeah, but I don’t know where.” As Emily spoke the cellar door opened and her aunt and uncle came back in, trailed by the Sheriff and Scotty.

“It’s time,” Stacy said. Dean shared a panicked glance with Emily. 

The sheriff and Scotty grabbed Dean as Emily’s aunt and uncle grabbed her. The pair of them were dragged out to the orchard and tied to trees. Dean tested his ropes but they wouldn’t give. Not without a lot of effort, at least.

As if sensing what Dean wanted to do, the sheriff came over and tightened his bindings.

“How many people have you killed, Sheriff?” Dean spat in his face as he moved back. “How much blood is on your hands?”

“We don’t kill them,” the sheriff said, not meeting Dean’s eyes.

“No, but you sure cover up after,” Dean continued, more venom in his voice than he ever thought he would have towards a fellow human. Even a despicable one. “I mean, how many cars have you hidden? Clothes have you buried?” The sheriff turned and walked away. “This is all on you!” Dean yelled at his retreating back.

Next to him, Harley was finishing tying up Emily. “Uncle Harley, please.”

“I am so sorry, Em,” he said, Dean watched a tear track down the man’s face. “I wish it wasn’t you.”

“Try to understand,” Stacy said, resting a hand on her niece’s face. “It’s our responsibility. And there’s just no other choice. There’s nobody else but you.”

“I’m your family,” Emily sobbed. Dean glared at her aunt and uncle. He pulled at his ropes but whatever give there had been before was gone now.

“Sweetheart,” Stacy said, her voice thick with emotion. Dean glared harder. “That’s what sacrifice means. Giving up something you love for the greater good. The town needs to be safe.” Stacy patted Emily’s cheek and then slowly withdrew her hand. “The good of the many outweighs the needs of the one.” Stacy wiped at her own tears and then tucked her hand into Harley’s as they walked away, following the sheriff. Scotty glared at Dean one last time before leaving as well.

“I hope your apple pie is fucking worth it!” Dean yelled after them.

For a moment they stood there in silence. Emily’s quiet sniffles the only sound around them. But she got herself under control and turned her head until she could meet Dean’s eyes. “What’s your plan?” she asked, voice thick.

Dean pulled on his ropes again. “I’m working on it.”

-

“You don’t have a plan, do you?” Emily said, breaking the hours-long silence between them.

“I’m working on it!” Dean said again. “Can you see?” Dean strained against his binds to try and look behind them into the clearing.

“What?”

“Is he moving yet?” No matter how he moved he couldn’t see the scarecrow. Emily followed his lead and tried to see behind her.

“I can’t see,” Emily gasped as she tugged harder. “Oh my god.” Dean understood the sentiment as he saw the shadow too. He twisted his wrists, trying to grab at the knot. “Oh my god!” A form stumbled out of the trees and Dean nearly cried in relief.

“Dean?” Sam asked.

“Oh! Oh, I take everything back. Whatever I said on the phone, ignore it,” Dean said, twisting to try and see his brother better. “I’m so happy to see you! Come on!” Sam dropped to his knees behind Dean and started tugging at the knot. “How’d you get here?”

“I-” Sam stumbled over his words. “I stole a car.”

“Haha! That’s my boy!” Dean exclaimed, he’d clap Sam on the shoulder if his hands weren’t still tied. “And keep an eye on that scarecrow. He could come alive any minute.”

Sam pulled the rope free and frowned at Dean. “What scarecrow?” he asked. Dean pushed himself to his feet, panicked.

“Shit,” he cursed as he saw the empty post. He shared a nervous look with Sam before they both leapt towards Emily, starting to pull at her ropes. Dean got frustrated and pulled a knife from his boot, cutting her free.

As soon as Emily was up, they started moving and Dean talked them both through what they needed to do.

“Alright, now,” Sam said as they dodged through the trees. “This sacred tree you’re talking about-”

“It’s the source of its power. Or the tether. Something like that.”

So let’s find it and burn it.”

“Nah, in the morning,” Dean said, ducking under a branch and making sure Emily was still with them. “Let’s shag ass before Leather Face catches up.” They break out of the treeline into a clearing and skid to a stop. Dean blocked Emily with his arm. Before them, stood a group of townspeople. 

“This way,” Dean decided, turning and starting to go another way but that way was blocked by more people. He spun around and found that they were completely surrounded. Stacy, Harley and the sheriff stood in front of the townspeople and Scotty with the group behind them.

“Please, let us go,” Emily pleaded.

“It’ll be over quickly,” Harley said. “I promise.”

“Please.”

“Emily, you have to let him take you. You have to-” Whatever else he was going to say turned to blood in his mouth as a sickle pierced through his stomach. The scarecrow leered over his shoulder.

Emily and her aunt screamed in unison. The scarecrow pulled his sickle free and slashed at Stacy. She collapsed. Emily threw herself into Dean’s chest as her aunt and uncle were dragged away into the trees. The rest of the townspeople scattered.

“Come on,” Dean said, wrapping his arms around Emily. “Let’s go.” She nodded against him before pulling away. She nodded again and then they were running. A noise behind them had all three of them spinning on the spot but they saw nothing. They stood still for a moment, anxiously glancing around. Waiting. When nothing came for them they kept moving.

-

The next morning, they returned to the orchard with gas and a lighter. It didn’t take them long to find the First Tree in the daylight. It was old. The wood had a strange leathery texture to it and Vince’s tattoo was etched into the bark. Sam looked at his brother and then Emily. Both of them were just staring at the tree so Sam took the gasoline and began to pour it on the tree.

Behind him, he heard Dean rustling through fallen leaves. When Sam turned he saw Dean lighting a long fallen branch.

Emily reached for it as Sam stepped back towards them. “Let me,” she said and Dean handed her the burning wood.

“You know the whole town’s gonna die,” he reminded her.

“Good,” Emily said as she threw the branch onto the tree. It burst into flames. The three of them stood and watched. Sam pretended he didn’t see the tears falling down Emily’s face.

-

When the tree was little more than a pile of smouldering ashes, they left by silent agreement. Emily had packed up a bag before they returned to the orchard and she climbed into the backseat now, pulling her bag to her chest. Sam and Dean shared a look over the car before joining her. 

They drove her to the bus station and paid for a ticket to wherever she wanted to go. She just wanted to be away from here so she picked the bus that was leaving soonest. A bus to Boston. She smiled at Dean as she got on the bus and he waved. She waved back and found herself a seat.

-

Dean shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket as they watched Emily’s bus leave.

“Think she’s gonna be alright?” Sam asked.

“I hope so.”

“And the rest of the townspeople? They’ll just get away with it?”

“Well, what’ll happen to the town will have to be punishment enough,” Dean said, turning as Emily’s bus disappeared down the road. He started walking back towards the impala. “So, can I drop you off somewhere?” He raised an eyebrow at Sam as he opened the driver’s door.

“No,” Sam said as he stopped at the passenger door. He patted a hand on the roof of the car. “I think you’re stuck with me.”

“What made you change your mind?”

“I didn’t,” Sam told him. “I still wanna find Dad. And you’re still a pain in the ass.” Dean nodded with a laugh. “But Jess and Mom - they’re gone. Dad is God knows where.” He looked up at Dean. “You and me. We’re all that’s left. So, if we’re gonna see this through. We’re gonna do it together.”

Dean regarded Sam for a moment. And then he laughed. “Hold me, Sammy. That was beautiful.” He held a hand up to his heart mockingly and Sam laughed too.

“You should be kissing my ass, you were dead meat dude.”

“Yeah right,” Dean said as he swung himself into the car. “I had a plan, I’d have gotten out.”

“Right,” Sam said, rolling his eyes as he joined Dean in the car.

-

“So, where to, pretty lady?” the shady guy asked.

Meg smiled at him. “How about you pull over?”

They guy looked her up and down. “Okay, that works,” he said with a lecherous grin on his gross face. He pulled over at the next layby and Meg reached into her bag. She pulled out an ornate silver bowl.

“What’s that?”

“I’ve got to make a call,” Meg said, grabbing the knife in the bowl.

“I’ve got a cell phone you could use,” the guy offered.

Meg gave him her own grin. “It’s not that kind of call.” She lurched across and slit the man’s throat, pressing her bowl under his neck until it was filled with blood. “Thanks for the ride,” she told him as she started to stir the blood with her finger.

“Tire quiero patem me a di,” she chanted as the blood swirled and a silver orb formed in the centre. “It makes no sense. I could’ve stopped Sam. Hell, I could’ve stopped them both. Why let them go?” She paused as she listened.

“You have to trust that I have a plan,” a voice said from the orb. A voice no mortal ears could hear. “That I know what I am doing.”

“I do.”

“Then you won’t question my orders any longer?”

“Yes.”

“Good. Keep an eye on the Winchesters.”

“Yes, father.”

Masterpost

[roonyxx]

If The World Was Ending

Summary: The world is ending and you can only think of one person to spend your last moments with.

Warnings: Angst, some fluff but mostly angst.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Wordcount: 822

A/N: This fic had been in my head for weeks and was inspired by one of my favorite love songs If The World Was Ending by JP saxe and Julia Michaels. It's short and not a lot but I enjoyed writing this and that's everything that matters, I hope you enjoy it too!

My Masterlist

Never in my life did I think I would be standing here again.

I made a promise to myself I wouldn’t.

But that was before, before everything went to shit.

Guess climate change was a much more urgent problem than everyone thought.

I’ve been standing here for fifteen minutes now, debating whether I should go find shelter or knock.

This is stupid… I’m stupid he probably doesn’t even want to see m-

Before I could finish that thought the door swings open and in it stands Dean with his keys in his hand.

He looks as beautiful as the day I left him, perhaps even more.

“Y/n” he breathes out.

His hair is a little tousled from running his fingers through it, he looks rougher, he let the scruff grow on his face. Depending on our current events I guess he didn’t find the time to shave.

“Dean” I say his name and I didn’t even realize how much I missed that simple word falling from my lips.

We just stare at each other, it’s been a year since we last saw each other. The hurt I saw that day on his face, I was never able to forget.

He steps aside and lets me in without a word. I look around in my former home and smile at the familiarities it.

“Sam?” I ask.

“He’s with Eileen.”

I nod, understandable that he wants to be with his loved ones. I am surprised that Dean let him go. I look at the keys in his hand.

“I- I don’t want to stop you from doing what you were going to do.”

“You didn’t. I was going to come to you.” He states simply.

“Oh” I can’t help but stare at him “you were?”

“Yes, Y/n. You know why.”

My eyes water and it’s all I can do to not fling my arms around him and hold him tight, burying my face in his chest.

“I missed you so much, Dean”

His arms wrap around me and hold me tight, despite my sharp broken edges, he holds me like I’m whole.

And in his arms, I am.

“I missed you too, sweetheart. So much.”

Together we move towards his bedroom without speaking a word.

What is the purpose of them anyways? Words it what torn us apart.

Dean and I dated for five years, the best years of my life. We loved each other passionately hard, and it destroyed us.

We fought a lot, but we always made it up, I moved in after a year of being together and I started hunting with Sam and Dean.

But Dean’s insatiable need to sacrifice himself for me was what drew me over the edge.

I couldn’t watch him die, I wouldn’t.

We silently undress and lay in bed together, both on our sides and looking at each other.

“Did you ever… find someone else?” I ask the question that’s been on my mind for a year.

He shakes his head and strokes my cheek with his finger, “No. Did you?”

“No. You’re the only one for me, Dean.” I say his name again, because it feels like breathing to be able to say it without the usual pain in my chest.

He nods and I see his eyes water, I reach out to him and trace his freckles.

“I wanted to come get you, to get you back” his voice wavers as tears pour out of the corner of his eye and lands on the bed beneath, “B-but, I didn’t want to hurt you more.”

“I know, De” your own tears start rolling down your face, “Nothing of that matters anymore.”

I lean closer and gently press my lips to his and he kisses me back.

His arms weave around me and pulls me snug against him.

“I love you, Y/n. I always will.” He whispers in soft sobs against my lips.

I hold him, I hold every sharp edge and piece of him, I hold him like he is whole.

Because in my arms he is. He is whole and perfect and magnificent in every way.

“I love you too, Dean. Forever.” I kiss him deeper and let that kiss consume me.

The bunker starts trembling and we flinch and hold each other tightly, waiting for the inevitable.

“Y/n I-“

“No, no goodbyes” I shake my head and hold his face in my hands “We don’t need to say goodbye, this is not the end, Dean” I smile despite the unending stream of tears and I say his name again because I want it to be the last thing that leaves my lips.

He nods in my hands, “It’s not, Y/n.”

We both look at each other when the trembling becomes shuddering and breaking.

But we don’t flinch, we don’t do anything but hold each other tight and love each other.

Nothing will ever stop our love.

Not even the sky that’s falling.

Forever Tags 2022: @jay-and-deanan @wittysummerflower @flamencodivaa  @lyss-dw79 @waywardbaby @chocolateheart @msmarvelouslywinchester @danneelsmain @magssteenkamp @snowlovespie @awkward-and-indecisive @westerneyedwinchester @hobby27 @lunarmoon8 

Dean tags 2022: @akshi8278 @brilovesdeanwinchester @mrspeacem1nusone @jadesupernatural @pink-sparkly-witch @verytoadpapersoul @eevvvaa @georgieslostboat92 @siospins2 @alwayskeepfightingsweetheart @supernatural79impala @thoughts-and-funnies

[firefly-in-darkness]

Worst Idea Ever [Part Nine]

Characters → Y/N & Bucky Barnes, Other Marvel Characters.

Series Summary → Wedding Season is brutal as it is but throw in two friends that decide to be each other’s plus ones and a mixed bag of feelings, what’s the worst that could happen?

Part Eight Summary → Time apart can heal wounds, right?

Word Count → 1.9k

Part Warnings → 18+, swearing, angst, hurt.

Beta → @kalesrebellion // all mistakes are my own.

A/N → yes it's been ages since I last posted for this series, yes it's a painful one.

Series List // Marvel List // Masterlist

Previously in Part Eight: He didn’t hesitate. The front door shutting within seconds. Y/N’s heart shattered, and she could no longer hold back the tears.

A few moments passed before Y/N could calm herself and find her phone amongst the sheets and pressing the call button above the text message.

“I made a mistake.” Y/N sobbed, “Dean, I fucked up.”

Bucky was a fool, and he knew it. He had been an absolute dick to Y/N. Not spoken to her in weeks, avoiding every social gathering so he didn’t have to deal with the awkward tension, or the questioning looks from their friends. Not that he hadn’t already had a less than explicit chat with Sam, who berated him for what he did.

It’s not like Y/N had tried to contact him either. She kept her distance just the same and Bucky had felt the judgment pouring from Wanda’s glare across the open-plan office space at Stark Industries. Natasha had shut him down when he not so subtly tried to find out how Y/N was doing, met with stony silence and a shake of her head.

But he couldn’t blame Y/N for his actions, he shouldn’t have walked out on her. Not after the weekend they'd shared with his family. Not after the step they’d taken together and how it led to something outside of friendship. He was hurt to learn about Dean’s prominence in her life, that she hadn’t even told him about how close they’d gotten.

Now, though, he couldn’t hold off on his apology, of righting the wrong he had done. It had gone on for too long and they had this stupid pact, the worst idea ever, to complete. And that is how Bucky found himself at her apartment block, thanking the neighbour that held the door for him.

The apology, that he’d practised all morning, was swirling around his head throughout the elevator journey. Bucky, completely focused on how to start their conversation, hadn’t even realised that he’d walked out and knocked on the door until it opened

And it opened on the person he didn’t want it to be. Dean.

Bucky faltered and his mouth formed a thin line at the sight of the undeniably handsome man in a button-up and slacks. He quickly spotted the matching suit jacket that was hung on the pegs in the hallway.

“Can I help you?” Dean asked with confusion etched on his face.

“Yeah, I’m here to see Y/N.”

“You must be Bucky.”

“James, to people that I don’t know,” Bucky responded, his words rumbled from his chest.

“Well, James, Y/N invited me to Jean’s wedding, and we went to the rehearsal yesterday,” Dean folded his arms, his stocky build filling the door frame as he held the protective stance.

Bucky’s stomach dropped, a numbness taking over his limbs as he took in Dean’s words, his voice smaller than he expected when he eventually responded, “can I at least talk to her?”

He caught a flash of anger across Dean’s face, and maybe a flicker of pity in the man’s eyes while he contemplated Bucky’s request.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Dean shook his head and shut the door.

Bucky’s fingers ran through his locks to calm himself, his body shook with the pain and hurt he’d caused himself. But mostly for how he had treated Y/N. She didn’t deserve this, and he would make it up to her one day. If she’d let him.

Bucky turned on his heel, he couldn’t lose his best friend and he should have thought of that before he gave in to his feelings. Unsure of how to prove his loyalty and care for Y/N, not quite the mastermind that would be able to solve this without a helping hand, he pulled out his cell and made a call.

Jean and Scott were a beautiful couple, full of smiles and love as they jointly cut into the perfectly white three-tiered cake. Cameras flashed and captured their moment. Cheers echoed around the wedding venue when Jean smooshed a piece of cake into Scott’s face.

“Is it wrong of me to have wished that Bucky had turned up?” Y/N looked at her companion.

Dean’s large hand gripped Y/N’s shoulder firmly, “Not at all, you were in love with him.”

Y/N nodded but knew there was no past tense about her feelings for Bucky, but he hadn’t been in contact since that day. Since he had disregarded her feelings, their friendship and it still hurt.

Luckily for Y/N and Dean, there were no romantic feelings between them. It was a one-off moment at Darcy and Ian’s wedding, months ago. Since then, they’ve built a solid friendship, and as much as the pact with Bucky had turned out to be a disaster, she knew it wouldn’t with Dean because there was no blurred line. It was simply platonic.

Dean disappeared once he caught the eye of a bridesmaid, leaving Y/N to sit at the table alone and wallow in her pity party for one until Wade and Vanessa appeared. They had snuck into the wedding reception after being late and slid into the seats either side of Y/N.

“What’s a hot piece like you doing sitting all by herself cradling her wine like a kitten?” Vanessa asked, a smirking pout on her lips as she tucked a strand of Y/N’s hair behind her ear.

“Just not feeling it tonight guys. Nice of you to show up.” You sassed with a wink.

Wade palmed her cheek, turning her attention to the uncharacteristically serious expression, “You would have been late too if you walked in on the solo moves, she was doing in the bedroom.”

Y/N laughed, “Was it the one you showed me the other week?”

Wade’s eyes sparkled with mischief, “Oh, you naughty girls.”

“What’s really wrong?” Vanessa insisted, “Is it Bucky?”

“Oh, he was hot.” Wade chimed in but backed away at the glare he received from his wife.

“I miss him. But he hasn’t reached out and I hate him for it.”

“You had sex? The emotional kind, right?” Wade commented, “What happened cos you seemed legit.”

Y/N scoffed and twisted the wine glass by the stem, “I thought it meant something. And he just shut down. Didn’t give me a second to explain anything and then said, ‘thank you’. Like I was giving him a service.”

“Ouchie mamma,” Wade winced and narrowed his eyes, “Want me to take him out? Nobody upsets our Cookie.”

“Nah, I’d rather him realise how much of a dick he’s been and fester in it,” She noticed the way Vanessa had not said anything and turned towards her, “What are you thinking? You’re awfully quiet.”

The woman beside Y/N shrugged her shoulders, “If you needed to explain something, then maybe you should just call him and do that?”

Y/N knew she should contact him, just as much as he should contact her. Her eyes scanned the room, and even though she felt a little lighter with Wade and Vanessa’s presence, she still didn't want to stay.

“Okay, I’m miserable and not in the partying mood at all so I’m calling it quits,” Y/N announced and slid out of the chair, “Thank you guys, and sorry for being such a Debbie Downer.”

The couple pulled Y/N into a tight hug and simultaneously whispered.

“He won’t even know he’s dead.”

“Call him.”

Y/N hadn’t even pressed play on the true crime documentary before the buzzer sounded. With a huff, she placed the ice cream tub onto the coffee table and headed to the comms unit in the hallway.

Wanda and Natasha’s voices crackled through the receiver and Y/N had no choice but to let them in, they could see the lounge lights were on from the sidewalk. As much as she loved her friends, their surprise visit wasn’t what she wanted right now.

“I just had this feeling you weren’t at the wedding anymore,” Wanda pulled off her denim jacket and settled on the couch.

“More like Ness called you,” Y/N responded.

“Wade actually, he worries about you like a big brother,” Natasha appeared from the kitchen and held up a bottle and glasses, “I just came for the wine.”

Y/N rolled her eyes and joined them on the couch, snuggled into the middle of them, and that’s when the emotions were unleashed. Eyes stung with the tears that had been threatening to fall since she left Jean and Scott’s wedding, and they finally fell. Her cheeks grew hot and damp, her nose blocked. The sobs stopped her from being able to talk properly.

“You don’t have to explain Y/N, we knew this would be hard. For the both of you,” Wanda held her hand and rubbed her thumb along the back of it in soothing circles.

But it didn’t soothe her, it only fuelled the anger, “Both of us? We slept together and he bolted, completely ghosted me. He doesn’t even want to be my friend. And what hurts the most is that I thought he felt the same way, that he lov- whatever, it doesn’t matter now. I don’t want to see him ever again.”

Wanda opened her mouth to say something but instead, she passed the ice cream while Natasha poured their drinks.

Y/N rested her head on Wanda’s shoulder, “Sorry for snapping.”

Wanda hummed and pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

“So, are you going to Tony and Pepper’s wedding vow renewal?” Natasha asked and passed the filled to the brim glasses of wine.

Wanda seethed, “Are you serious Nat?”

Y/N didn’t look at either of them, just continued to stare deeply at the paused screen of the television. Hoping that the fresh tears that were brewing wouldn’t fall. She wished she could stop herself crying so much over Bucky.

“What? She was invited and not as a plus one for Bucky.”

“She’s right,” Y/N responded and sat up, “But I’m not sure if I want to go. I wasn’t exactly the most sociable today and I’m not very fond of seeing all the happy couples, love and marriage on parade right now.”

“Tony loved you at Peter and Gwen’s wedding,” Natasha retaliated, “He would want you to come along regardless. He wouldn’t invite just anyone.”

Y/N groaned and grabbed a cushion to bury her head into it. A muffled comment of embarrassment slipped through the plush material. She didn’t need to be reminded of the orgasm she had in the middle of the rehearsal dinner while Tony and Pepper frantically searched for the remote of the vibrating panties.

“I can be your plus one. Everyone we know is going to be there,” Natasha commented, “Wanda, Victor, Sam and -”

Y/N lifted her head with a sulky face, “- and Bucky.”

Natasha’s face shifted from neutral to stern in a flash, “I don’t want to tell you ‘I told you so’, but I will if you don’t go to the wedding with me.”

“Fine. Can we watch this now please?” Y/N conceded and grabbed the television remote.

Natasha carefully slipped out of the lounge, tiptoeing so not to disturb Y/N and Wanda as they slept on the couch. She pulled the cell from her jacket pocket and quickly typed a message.

She’ll be there. Don’t fuck this up Barnes.

Continue Here...

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[meganwritesfanfics]

With Arms Wide Open (Dean Winchester x Reader) Part 1

More John Winchester hate. This time in a full story version. 

None of them were quite sure how it happened. One moment they were hot on the trail of yellow eyes, and the next moment, Y/N, Dean, Sam and John were waking up in an abandoned building hands tied above their heads. Fear was sinking into all of them as they weighed the options of how they could possibly get out, but no one was more afraid than Y/N, especially knowing that she had a secret, one that could change everything. 

“You know, I really thought you guys would put up much more of a fight. This was just too damn easy.” A voice chuckled as yellow eyes strayed into the room. 

Y/N and Sam were on one wall and Dean and John were on the other. Across the room Y/N stared at Dean eyes wide. Y/N and Dean had been together since high school, and hunting together since before then. Y/N was the only person Dean really considered to be his friend growing up, and as they grew up those feelings of friendship morphed into something else. He couldn’t imagine his life without her, she was a badass hunter who was absolutely gorgeous, but more than that she was caring and kind, and she could out sass the hunter any day. He loved her. So much so that he actually considered giving up hunting to give her an “apple pie” kind of life. But now in the situation they found themself in, he was afraid that would never happen. 

“It wasn’t even fun.” Yellow eyes pouted as he walked around smirking at the group. “But I know something that will make this much more interesting.” 

Everyone was struggling at their binds as Azazel inched closer to John. 

“Don’t!” Dean screamed. 

“Oh don’t worry Dean-o. My plan involves you too.” 

Y/N could feel her wrists getting irritated by the ropes, trying her best to pull her self free, but she knew it was useless.

“Now John, I have a deal for you.” 

“Why would I ever make a deal with you.” John snarled. 

“You are going to change your turn once you hear what I am offering. I am offering to bring Mary back.” 

The silence that fell over the room was deafening. John and the boys all looked shocked with a slight hint of concern. But Y/N, she looked terrified. 

She knew that John would take that deal no matter what the consequences were, and Azazel had said Dean was a part of the deal as well, so she knew what he wanted. 

“What are the terms!” Y/N snapped trying to get John to think before he acted but she could see he was already thinking. 

“I bring Mary back. Your precious wife and mother of your children.” Azazel whispered closer to John luring him deeper into the deal. “In exchange, I get Dean.” 

Y/N’s stomach dropped. 

“No!” Sam screamed but John said nothing. Dean’s eyes immediately looked over locking with Y/N’s giving her a sad look. 

“Don’t you dare John,” Y/N snapped. “Don’t you fucking dare!” 

“This is not your decision to make Y/N.” Azazel said as he came over and grabbed her face in his hands. 

She spat at him which only earned her a slap across the face. 

“She isn’t a part of this, leave her alone.” Dean screamed as tears began to well up in his eyes. 

Azazel smiled as he turned back to the eldest brother. 

“She started it, you sure picked a feisty one.” He sneered as he turned back to look at John. “Now Johnny, this is a limited time offer so the clock is ticking. You need to decide.” 

“Dad,” Dean’s voice cracked hard he couldn’t believe his father was actually considering this deal. 

“Dad don’t!” Sam screamed as he cried. 

Y/N was spiraling. She couldn’t lose Dean, she couldn’t, he was her whole world. And now with the secret she had, he couldn’t leave her. Her mind was racing as she tried to figure out any possible way to stop John from taking this deal. 

“Take me instead!” Y/N screamed before she even fully thought about what she was saying. 

“Y/N, no!” Dean snapped as he pulled even harder at the restraints. 

Azazel turned back to look at her amused. “Now why would I want you, you are nothing special, you are just Dean’s fuck buddy. You are no Winchester.” 

Y/N sighed tears streaming down her face as she avoided looking at Dean. 

“No I’m not, but I am carrying a Winchester inside of me.” Y/N said, silencing the room once more. 

“Wha...What?” Dean stuttered. 

“I’m pregnant.” 

Azazel’s expression changed to a serious one as he snapped his fingers and Y/N was released from the restraints as she landed on the ground. 

Slowly yellow eyes inched his way towards her, she quickly scrambled for her gun but he was on her before she had a chance. He wrapped his hand around her throat lifting her off the ground. “If you are lying I will end you right now.” He screamed as he roughly placed his hand on her stomach digging his fingers into her skin. He held her like that for a moment as she struggled to breath before finally he dropped her to the ground laughing. 

“This is the best trade I could have possibly asked for. Making sure that the Winchester line doesn’t continue, and killing Dean’s love right in front of him. Do we have a deal Y/N?” 

“Yes.” Y/N sobbed as she stared down at the ground sobbing. 

“No!” Dean cried and everyone heard as the wooden beam Dean was tied to cracked as he pulled on the rope. 

“Now John, aren’t you proud of this beautiful girl here.” Azazel grabbed her face again dragging her over to John. “She is willing to sacrifice herself and her unborn child all so that your son wouldn’t die so you could get your wife back.” 

“Y/N I…” John started but he didn’t have anything to say, he just looked down at the ground ashamed. 

“Well, Y/N might as well say your goodbyes to your precious Dean.” Azazel threw her to the ground at Dean’s feet. “I will give you a moment but if there is any funny business I will kill everyone in this room.” 

“Dean,” Y/N bolted to her feet wrapped her arms around her crying into his chest. “I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

“Don’t do this, I need you Y/N.” Y/N could feel his tears falling into her hair. 

“Everything is going to be alright Dean, I promise. I love you so very much.” 

Y/N quickly turned around glaring at John as she did so. 

“Oh no no I want Dean to watch your pain.” Azazel spun her around. “I want him to see the love of his life and mother of his unborn child in agony.” 

“Don’t you dare touch her, I won’t stop, I won’t stop hunting you, and when I find you I will destroy you.” Dean screamed his voice so deep it sounded as if he was growling. 

Y/N held her breath as she waited for the pain to come but it didn't. Instead all she heard was Azazel laughing. 

“God, you are all so stupid. Did you really think I would bring Mary back?” 

“What?” Y/N asked as she turned back to face him. “We made a deal you can’t…” 

Azazel smacked Y/N across the face hard enough that it sent her to the ground. 

“I can do whatever I want!” He screamed. “That being said, I will be back for you and your baby in about nine months, how does that sound.” 

“No!” Both Dean and Y/N screamed. Y/N bolted to her feet grabbing her gun. The minute she fired she was thrown backwards into the wall. The wind was knocked out of her and she lay on the floor gasping. 

“See you all soon!” Azazel laughed and then he vanished and everyone’s restraints fell away.

[sinnabonka]

It’s spec time: Love always wins

(Okay, I promised it, I’m doing it, there’s no stopping me now.) 

For the last three days I’ve been all over the place emotionally, clinging to every post saying Cas is not dead dead, saying his story is not done, but then someone wrote the “but” post and, there I go again, down the bottomless pit of angst. 

I’ve been a Schrödinger believer for so long with this show, one can get used to it. 

I know I’m not the only one feeling this way, regarding whether Cas is coming back or not. We won’t know till we know ©

Ep 19 speculations here

But let's speculate!

Apparently, there's nothing better for me to do way past midnight on Saturday and on Sunday morning (when I’m writing this). 

What makes us think 15*18 might indeed be the end of Castiel’s story:

Everything the crew and Misha told us, officially, is pressing toward Cas dying permanently in this scene. “Proud ending”, indeed. 

Castiel’s story has the perfect symmetry this way, with the handprint, the “Hello, Dean” - “Goodbye, Dean”, and the whole “Dean Winchester is saved” theme.

He is smiling, while Empty takes him, he’s content with his sacrifice. 

Something about Castiel’s monologue didn’t sit right with me for some time. The whole point of happiness being not in having, but in being and saying, gave me an idea of it being the way writers say we can’t have Destiel, but we should be happy to know it’s real and to hear it said aloud after all those years. 

Supernatural had to be the story of two brothers and their journey, and Winchesters driving in the sunset is the most probable endgame we are gonna get. 

Even though all those points seem valid, we can’t trust any of it. 

Let me fix it for you:

It wouldn't be the first time the crew lied about someone being on set. 

The handprint was not scripted. I repeat, the handprint was not scripted.

Castiel’s monologue could be just about loving Dean, and it’s just my poor wounded heart looking too deep into it and seeing my angstloving reflection on the bottom of the well. 

And Supernatural might indeed be about family, but, as we know, family doesn’t end with blood, and doesn’t start with it either. Cas is family, after all. 

I’m glad be are clear on this one.

What tells us Cas is coming back and we are getting Destiel endgame:

(Brace yourself, it’s gonna be wordy)

1. The most obvious, without rewriting his memory or going OOC, there’s no happy ending for Dean (not the crappy bittersweet substitute) without Cas. 

Even without the love confession in place, we’ve seen what Cas’ death did to him before, it shuttered him to pieces. Imagine the damage it's gonna cause now! 

“I love you, I always did, bye bye now, have a long and happy life knowing my feelings for you have killed me dead.” Really? No win can make up for it.

2. My fave point, aka the natural dynamics of storytelling. The big loss predicts the big win. The deeper the wound, the brighter the prize. Following the roller coaster this season has been, we should be up for a pretty high damn up pretty soon. 

So, there’s The Big Loss (losing Eileen, all of their friends, all the people on Earth and Cas). 

Next - The Big Win (defeating God, getting their free will back, getting humanity back). 

Then, we should have The Big Regret and Reflect moment (Sam and Dean talking a lot at this point, realization of things which are important, what they want with Chuck gone). 

And at the end, there’s The Ultimate Happy ending waiting for us (see point 1 again in case you are not sure what that means).

3. You know what, forget it, this one is my favorite. The parallels. Throughout this season we’ve been spoon-fed with context (Geez, it feels nice to finally know we are not crazy, we are not seeing things, we got it all right!) and writers chose to do so via parallels, via reflections, subtle hints. 

It would be some lazy storytelling to shove everything to our faces, so, instead, we’ve got: Charlie and Stevie, Sam and Eileen, the world and humanity, Dean and Cas. 

Everyone separated. Forever? No, not really. And I don’t buy everyone getting their loved ones back, except Dean. C’mon.

4. Unresolved love confession. Yes, Cas might have died with a smile, meaning it’s enough for him to speak his truth and be gone. But Dean? Him sobbing in the dungeon, ignoring Sam’s calls (he literally never chose anything above Sam before), the “Don’t do this, Cas” part - it’s the lowest he’s ever been. 

To sum up, Dean didn’t get his closure. He might have needed five to six business days to process, but he still has his truth he has to find out and then give a voice to. 

And yeah, I know, he could confess via prayer or something, but we all know that’s something needed to be said face to face.  (Btw, he already confessed to Cas in purgatory via prayer once, you can try and prove me wrong, but good luck with that, sunshine.)

5. The perfect symmetry. If I were in SPN writers room, I would literally cry my eyes out of joy at the symbolism this ending gives. I would literally fight everyone against it. 

The broken man not deserving to be saved is dragged from Hell by the most loyal and righteous angel Heaven ever seen. 

VS

The fallen angel not deserving to be loved is dragged from Empty by the most loving and caring man the sun shone on.

I mean, c’mon, people. Poetry.

(We are nearing a very important thing here, fasten your seatbelts, please.)

6. The message the show wants to give the world has changed. From “it’s all about the journey, about saving people, killing things, no one ever gets what they deserve”, the philosophy has changed drastically toward the “good things do happen, you deserve to be saved, to be loved”. 

Come and see what lane we are walking right now: allowing yourself to love again, to experience things again / losing the love of your life a moment later / fighting for your love / winning your love back. 

I believe the final message is: love always wins. 

Love is not one’s weakness, love is power, love is strength, it’s a perfect fuel. 

Humans declare war in the name of love, kill and get killed in the name of love, but, most importantly, humans live and win those wars in the name of love, too. 

7. Go big or go home is on the table, and no one goes home this time. 

Supernatural was a bunch of broken glass for soooo long, I think this time writers are gonna give us something good, for a change. Not bittersweet good, but actually cotton-candy-almost-diabetes-sweet good.  

Why? 

Because *loud and clear* we deserve having good things happening to us! 

Also, it’s The End, the creators have nothing to lose, but, on the other hand, the ultimate happy ending would allow them to leave an enormous mark on the world and Supernatural to be known as the only show that actually could.

To sum up:  

Dean can’t be happy with Cas gone and, following the logic of prebuilt parallels, he won’t have to - everyone gets their loved ones back at the end, because love always wins. 

Cas might be at peace with speaking his truth, saving Dean and being gone, but it is not fair, Dean also deserves a chance to be heard. 

Few seasons ago I would laugh in my own face for these arguments, but the philosophy of the show has been transformed. During the last few years we were being prepared for this moment, slowly, gently being led toward this moment. 

Supernatural has to give us the Destiel endgame to prove their point.

click x click for more

[curlynerd]

What He Wants

Happy gift posting day for @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! My gift recipient is @bipridedean! She requested a Destiel, canon-adjacent fic, so here it is! I hope you like it! <3

Word Count: 2.6K Rating: G Summary: 5 times Dean said "I do" and 1 time he didn’t. Notes: Post canon, fix-it fic, oneshot, love confessions, Destiel wedding

Also read it on AO3!

1.

The first time it happens Sam is the only one to hear it. They’re alone in the bunker, surrounded by months and months of tireless research. But finally, finally, Dean thinks they’ve discovered how to get into the Empty.

Dean wants to push through the night and get a portal up and running as soon as possible. Sam insists they both go to bed, pleading with Dean that he won’t be able to concentrate on the spellwork to maintain it without at least a few hours of sleep.

Dean spends most of the night staring at the ceiling, thoughts racing through his head at a hundred miles an hour. This time tomorrow, he could have Cas back. This time tomorrow he can--Dean is almost afraid to think it, afraid that giving form to what he wants will somehow curse it and stop it from ever coming true. After all, the thing he wanted most before this was for Cas to love him back, and that didn’t exactly end rosy.

Still, as Dean finally closes his eyes, he allows himself a small, private wish. He hopes this will be the last time he falls asleep alone.

The next morning, they’re both expecting some sort of bump in the road, some rare ingredient or some missing incantation that will set them back even longer, keep Dean from seeing Cas again for God knows how long. But fortune is on their side, and Sam executes the spell flawlessly.

Dean is armed to the teeth with every weapon and protection spell they could collect on short notice. His plan for finding Cas and dragging him back home sits clearly at the front of his mind. His heart pounds in his ears, fast but steady and strong.

“You know, if this doesn’t work, you could get stuck there. I might not be able to open a new portal.” Sam looks at the pulsating mass of black that serves as the portal to the Empty. Worry is etched deeply into his forehead. “Do you really want to do this?”

Dean thinks of Cas’ face, the way he had smiled as he said he loved him. He thinks of how he was so close to having the one thing he really wanted. How Cas had wanted the same.

There’s no peace in loneliness.

Dean tightens his grip on his angel blade, his jaw set, his eyes determined. He’s ready to get his angel back. “Yeah. I do.”

2.

The second time it happens, it takes Cas by surprise. It’s been a week since Dean heroically pulled the love of his life from the Empty...and also since Dean lost all remaining courage. He choked. His unspoken response to Cas’ confession is a taut tension wire between them, keeping them inches apart, words suffocating in their tightly sealed mouths, both terrified to say anything and risk breaking something that can’t be mended.

Dean hates himself for it. It’s cowardice is what it is. It’s a lifetime of desperately fighting against the things that make him vulnerable. Against wanting things. Against believing anyone could love him. Even with Cas’ confession still crystal clear in his memories, Dean doubts.

He is deep into those self-deprecating thoughts when he finds Cas in the garage, struggling to figure out how to change a flat tire on his truck from a Youtube video.

“Cas? What’re you doing?”

Cas startles and immediately hunches his shoulders in guilt. He wasn’t expecting to be caught. “Dean.” He looks down at the lug wrench in his hand, and Dean can see the wheels spinning in his head, trying to concoct a cover story before he shrugs and gives up the truth. “I was trying to fix the truck.”

“You need to go somewhere? Cuz I can just drive you.” Dean’s heart pounds, his mouth going dry. Cas wouldn’t need to sneak around for a little errand.

Cas shakes his head and confirms Dean’s fears. “I wanted to have it ready. In case I needed to leave.”

“Leave?” Dean repeats, and his blood goes cold.

Cas deflates a little, resigned and sad. “I assume I’ll need to soon.”

“You can’t leave!” ‘Tell him!’ screams in Dean’s mind, but he can’t. He can’t. What if he’s wrong? What if Cas doesn’t love him like that? What if Cas doesn’t love him at all anymore? What if Dean screwed it up by staying silent and Cas realized he deserves to be with someone who can provide a simple answer to “I love you?” What if--

“I don’t want to,” Cas says softly. The pain is evident in his eyes as they flicker to his truck, like he expects to need to book it out of here at any moment. “But I wasn’t sure if you wanted me here after--” He cuts himself off and shakes his head. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” he amends.

“Cas, this is your home, same as me and Sam.” Cas doesn’t look so convinced. “C’mon man, you really think we don’t want you around?” Dean leans against the side of Cas’ truck to ground himself. “Cas, I want you here.” ‘I want more than that,’ he thinks, and it would be so easy to say what he really needs to say, but he can’t. He fights viciously with his own self-esteem, ripping at it, begging it to let him say more. “Please don’t leave,” he says, small and helpless, and it’s like moving a mountain to say that much.

Cas’ expression softens into longing. His hand clenches at his side, like he’s fighting the urge to reach out to Dean, but he smiles a soft, incredulous smile. “I can stay? You really mean it?”

Dean swallows thickly. A hundred words crowd his throat, fighting to get out, but his own fears win this round and keep them down. Instead all he can manage is a choked, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

3.

The third time it happens, it takes them both by surprise. They’d gone on a hunt, just the two of them while Sam was visiting Eileen, and everything had gone sideways. What they thought was just a troublemaking demon turned out to be an extremely powerful witch, one with more than enough experience in Enochian magic to put Cas in serious danger. And of course Cas was reckless in his desire to protect Dean, and only managed to avoid getting killed by quick thinking and, to be honest, a helluva lot of luck.

The fight left Cas injured, and Dean pissed. “What the hell were you thinking!” he scolds at the end of a cold, silent drive back to the bunker.

“I did what I needed,” Cas shoots back with a steely glare.

“No, you didn’t need to go rushing in like that!” Dean’s worry leeches out as anger, the fear of losing Cas yet again clouding his reasoning that Dean himself would have died without Cas’ quick action. “You could have gotten a lot more hurt!”

“Why does it even matter to you?” Cas yells back, and it’s the note of hysterical bitterness darkening his words that makes Dean snap and say what he’s been hiding for far too long.

“Because I love you, you stubborn ass!”

The words freeze in the air between them, sharp and strong, wedging themself right where Dean’s anger was just a moment ago.

“You...love me?” Cas asks, his voice small, his eyes big.

And like that, Dean’s fears seem so foolish. Cas loves him. Cas died because just admitting he loves him was the happiest moment of his life. Cas has already done the hardest, scariest part for him. Dean doesn’t even have to fear Cas not feeling the same.

Silently, Dean takes a single step forward. Cas is frozen on the spot, staring at him like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He takes another step, and another, until he’s close enough to reach out and tug Cas into an embrace.

“Of course,” Dean breathes. He holds Cas close, tucking his chin over his shoulder and squeezing tight, like he never wants to let go. He doesn’t ever want to let go. Cas is slower to react, but when his arms finally wind around Dean, he breathes out a soft, sobbing gasp and clings to Dean. Dean turns his head to bury his nose in Cas’ hair. “Of course I do.”

4.

The fourth time it happens, Cas doesn’t even hear it. Cas found out about a nearby crafts fair, and all it took was one particularly soulful look from those big blue eyes of his, and Dean was driving them a full hour and a half away to look at homemade pottery and local honey and overpriced tacky mesh wreaths and pretending that the entire atmosphere of the place wasn’t giving him hives.

Cas is having a blast. Dean is carrying bags and lurking in the shadiest spots he can find away from the summer heat while Cas browses. Cas is having an animated conversation about beekeeping with a honey merchant when Dean ducks into a large tent filled with the kind of flowy, bedazzled, polyester shirts he thinks of as “PTA Chic” because they also happen to have a large fan blowing.

“Lookin’ for something in particular, sugar?” The tent owner saunters over to Dean, her Southern accent thick and her top scandalously low. She’s stunningly pretty, and Dean’s eyes and smile light up out of a lifetime of habit. She responds in kind, dragging her eyes down, then back up Dean’s body. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were lookin’ for more than clothes.”

Dean chuckles and flashes her his best charming, but chagrined smile. He feels a little guilty for leading her on, and he doesn’t want to hurt her feelings. “Oh sweetheart, if I were single, I’d gladly take you up on that offer, but I’ve already got my special someone.” Dean nods to the honey booth next door.

Her eyes trail over to where Dean gestured, and for a split second her brow furrows in confusion before she laughs just a little, more incredulous than cruel. “You really want someone like that over me?”

Dean looks over at Cas. And, yeah, Dean gets the question. He’s a grown-ass man wearing cargo shorts, carrying a canvas bag with the most obnoxious sunglasses-wearing beach ball Dean has ever seen, and his hair looks like it's been electrocuted. Dean grins, feeling a rush of fondness for his dorky, criminally unfashionable angel.

“Yeah,” he says softly, without an ounce of hesitation. There’s no one else in the world for him but Cas. “Yeah, I do.”

5.

The fifth time Dean says it, Cas is the only other person around for miles. He drags Cas out of bed bright and early one Saturday, forcing him into the car before he’s even fully finished his coffee. Cas allows it, only because he can tell Dean is positively vibrating with nervous energy. Dean brushes off all of his prying questions during the long drive until they finally arrive at a small, peaceful meadow in the middle of nowhere.

He’s packed a lunch, because ostensibly this outing is meant to be a picnic, even though Cas is suspicious on that fact alone. Dean never picnics. It doesn’t really matter though, because Dean is too nervous to even consider eating.

“So why are we really here?” Cas asks after a few minutes of nibbling at his chips. Dean’s sandwich lays untouched on the blanket.

Dean steels his nerve and takes a deep breath. “Do you know where this is?” he asks, fighting the jittery bouncing of his heartbeat to keep his voice steady.

Cas nods. “This is where I returned when Jack resurrected me.” He looks around, smiling down at the flowers surrounding the two of them. The windmill behind him creaks softly in the wind.

“And where I spread your ashes.” Dean’s fidgeting fingers find a frayed edge on the blanket, and he starts picking at it.

Cas nods again and remains silent, patiently waiting for Dean to find the rest of his words.

“And it’s…” Dean pulls a thread out of the blanket and lets it fly away in the wind. “This is where I realized I love you. I’m an idiot who didn’t even realize how much I loved you until after you were gone.”

Cas leans forward and rests his hand on Dean’s knee, warm and reassuring. Dean continues, “At the time I’d thought, ‘I can’t do this. I don’t want to live without him.’ Which was stupid because you were already dead. It didn’t matter what I wanted.”

Cas squeezes his knee. His eyes are gentle. “We’re both okay now.”

Dean’s heart warms. “Yeah. We are. But you know I...That feeling’s never gone away. You and me? I want us to be forever.” Dean reaches into his pocket. There’s no small velvet box, no shimmering diamonds, just a thick band of practical silver he found at a pawn shop. He looks down at the ring with a tender smile. “Man, never in a million years did I think I’d ever be doing this,” he marvels, and when he looks up, Cas’ eyes are wide with surprise.

“Dean?” His normally steady voice wavers.

Dean reaches for Cas’ face, his thumb gently stroking across his cheek. He holds up the ring. “What do you say, Cas? Wanna go legit about this?”

Cas’ expression is impossibly soft, eyes overflowing with love and devotion. He swallows thickly around a lump in his throat and takes the ring from Dean. He slides it onto his finger and stares at it like it’s his own personal miracle.

“You’re serious, Dean? You really want to get married?”

Dean smiles as he leans in close. Just before he kisses his new fiance, he whispers, “Of course I do.”

6.

The sun is setting, casting long shadows down the sand. The shifting winds coming from the sea carry a chill, making the little crowd gathered around them draw their jackets close and huddle together, but the smiles on their faces are nothing but warm. There’s no altar. No stage. No decorations. Just Cas and Dean, standing in front of the ocean, wearing their favorite flannels and jeans, two bright yellow black-eyed susans pinned to their shirts--stolen right out of someone’s garden on their way to the beach.

They didn’t even bother trying to put out chairs for the ceremony, not knowing how many of their friends and family would be able to make the long drive to see Dean get hitched to his angel, but in the end it’s a good thing, because damn near everyone came, and they need to crowd in close to hear them over the wind.

It’s completely and utterly perfect.

Dean grins, unable to take his eyes off Cas while Donna, the only member of his overly-emotional family he trusts not to bawl her eyes out through the ceremony, finishes the last of their vows.

“Do you, Castiel, take Dean Winchester to be your, well, not so lawfully wedded husband?”

There’s a twitter of laughter from the crowd. Cas smiles a sweet, crooked smile and squeezes Dean’s hand. “I do.” His voice is soft, meant for Dean’s ears only, because Dean is the only one his promise matters to.

“And do you, Dean Winchester, FBI’s Most Wanted, thrice dead criminal, and the terribly generous gentleman who will surely be covering our drinks on this celebratory evening, take Castiel to be your husband?”

Dean looks at Cas. Even in the dim light of the setting sun, his eyes are impossibly blue. His smile is so warm Dean knows he’ll never feel cold again, so long as he can see it every day. Dean beams back and proclaims loud enough for everyone on the beach to hear, “Oh hell yes!”

[jensengirl83]

Wrong Side Of Heaven

Dean x reader

Word Count-1200

Summary- Dean has feelings for Y/N, but is afraid to put a target on her back by confessing his love. Will he be too late to let her know how he feels?

Warnings- ANGST! A tiny bit of fluff.

A/N- This was written for @wonder-cole's 500 follower challenge. Prompt will be in bold.

https://www.patreon.com/jensengirl83

It had been one of the worst hunts they had in a long time. Anything that could go wrong did, and they hadn’t even killed the demon behind it all. He had managed to get away, and that was eating Dean alive. After what that son of a bitch had done to Y/N, he wanted him dead, his whole family massacred.

Dean had decided to come back to the bunker and drink until he passed out. Y/N had gotten hurt, and it was his fault. He wasn’t fast enough to get to her before the demon had stabbed her, slicing her open like a cow at slaughter. He was still passed out on his bed when his door opened, and Y/N stepped through the door.

“Dean? Are you awake?”

He opened one eye to look at her. Her beautiful face was a little blurry from the alcohol still swimming in his system. He had been head over heels for the huntress for years but was too scared to put that target on her back by telling her how he felt. He had kept it pushed down, bottled up, and that’s where he wanted it to stay. But after today, he didn’t know how much resolve he had left. He had nearly lost her anyway. So, what was the point in hiding his feelings now?

“I am now,” he grumbled sleepily, still a little drunk.

“You were screaming for me,” she whispered, waiting on his response.

“It was probably a dream about what happened. I’m fine. You need to go back to bed and rest,” he stated bluntly, trying to keep his emotions at bay.

“D, it’s okay. You can talk to me.”

“Y/N, I don’t want to talk. I just want to sleep.”

She had a pout on her lips as she walked over to his bed, sitting down beside him. She locked eyes with him, never wavering as she ran her hand down his arm to link their fingers together. Dean could hear his heart beating in his ears. He had always wanted her, but now, he was on the fence. He didn’t confess his love to keep her safe, but that hadn’t saved her from almost being killed today. But if he didn’t tell her, what would happen next time?

“Dean, you can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

“Pushing me away. It’s not fair.”

“Y/N…,” he whimpered, hoping she wouldn’t have this conversation right now.

“No, D. I almost died today. I think the time for us dancing around each other is over, don’t you?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he denied, but she could see right through him.

“You’re a hero, Dean. You’re strong and brave. But yet, you seem scared of me, and I don’t know what I did wrong.”

“Sweetheart, I’m no hero, and I’m not made of stone. Yes, I’ve saved people, but I’ve lost them, too. I’ve been too late to save people I love. Like today, I almost lost you because I was too late. I can’t handle losing you. Not now, not ever,” he choked on a sob, the thought of losing her too much.

“But I’m still here. I’m here because you did save me, Dean. After I almost died, I thought how horrible it would’ve been to go to the grave with you not knowing how much you mean to me, how much I love you.”

Dean sat frozen. She had just told him she loved him. She had just said the words that he had always wanted to say but was too scared to utter aloud. She had just called him a hero, told him he was brave, yet she was the one to have the balls to admit her feelings. All the while, he had been hiding behind his.

“Y/N, I-I….”

“Shh, just listen. I love you, Dean. I have for a long time, and I can’t keep hiding it. I can’t go to my end without you knowing that you are loved, wanted, and so much more. You deserve the world, D, and I would love to be the one to try and give it to you. I understand if you don’t feel the same, but just know, I’m here. I’ll always be here to love you, hold you, carry you when you aren’t strong enough to stand on your own. You said you aren’t made of stone. So, let me be your rock.”

Dean couldn’t form words. His eyes were blurred with unshed tears, and his heart pounding with the love he had for her. Within seconds of her speech, he had her face cupped between his calloused hands, his lips crushing against hers. He poured all the love and adoration he had in that kiss, hoping she could feel what she meant to him. Dean Winchester was tired of hiding behind the walls he had so carefully constructed. He wanted her, and she wanted him. That’s all that mattered now.

“Dean. Dean! Hey man, time to wake up,” Sam’s voice made him wake with a start, sitting straight up and looking around the room.

It all hit him again. Y/N wasn’t really there. It had all been a dream. She had died on that warehouse floor, blood oozing and surrounding them as Dean held her in his arms as he watched the life drain from her eyes. He had been too late after all.

Y/N had gone to her death, never knowing how loved she truly was. She would never know that Dean would’ve done anything to make her happy or to hear her laugh. Her laugh. He would never hear that magical sound again. He broke down into sobs as his brother ran over to wrap his arms around him, trying his best to comfort his brother. Sam knew what it was like to lose the woman you love, and he never wanted that for his older brother. Once Dean had calmed, Sam had to ask the question that he never wanted to let pass his lips.

“Are you ready to light the pyre? I’ve got everything ready.”

Dean sighed, knowing he couldn’t put it off any longer. He stood and followed his little brother out to the woods behind the bunker. There she was. Wrapped in a sheet, her body still and lifeless atop the wooden platform. He had to choke back more sobs as his brother asked him he wanted him to light it.

“No. I’ll do it. I owe her that much, Sammy,” he whispered, reaching for his lighter, flicking it, and throwing it at the foot of the pyre.

He stood silent as he watched the flames make their way up to her body. He had lost one more person he loved, but this one hurt so much more. She never knew that she was loved. But he vowed from that day forward, he would get his revenge. He just hoped he would see her again one day, but he didn’t know if that would happen. You never know where you’re going to end up when you’re on the wrong side of heaven and the righteous side of hell.

@flamencodiva @foxyjwls007 @waywardbeanie @emoryhemsworth @valsworldofcreativity @hardcoresupernatural @msmarvelouswinchester @lyarr24 @danneelsmain @akshi8278 @ellewritesfix05 @winchest09 @defenderrosetyler @hobby27 @whatareyousearchingfordean  @deanwanddamons @atc74 @superfanficnatural  @supernatural-love14 @vicmc624 @squirrelnotsam @tatted-trina6 @xhannahbananax03 @coffeebooksandfandom  @mrsfox79 @malfoysqueen14 @smol-and-grumpy​ @moron225​ @deans-baby-momma​ @lovelyrocker​ @fablesrose​ @maralisa124​ @deangirl93​ @aimee-ginge​ @anathewierdo​ @donnaintx​ @screechingartisancashbailiff​ @itsdesiree86​ @kyjey​ @roxytheimmortal​ @briagallen​ @aubageddon91​ @lunarmoon8​ @that-one-gay-girl​ @stoneyggirl​ @kitkatd7​ @wonder-cole​ @brilovesdeanwinchester​ @allonsy-yesiwill​  @krazykelly​ @440mxs-wife​ @rebelemilu​ @sarahbaker2010​ @onethirstyunicorn​ @tyferbebe​ @metalfangirl​    @redbarn1995​ @thoughts-and-funnies​ @izzathequeen​ @heavensangel45135​  @entersand-man​  @michellethetvaddict​ @supraveng​ @percywinchester27 @downanddirtydean​ @bobbie3939​ @waynes-multiverse​  @zooaliaa​ @watermelonlipstick​ @katelynw931-blog​ @soaringeag1e​ @thinkinghardhardlythinking​ @treat-winchesterswith-kindness​ @deandreamernp​

[mrsalwayswrite]

To Be My Night And My Day - Part 2

Summary: Hvitserk has been your best friend since childhood, the one you can always rely on. So when you start doubting your current relationship with Sihtric, Hvitserk kindly offers to help you out….but the consequences are never what you expected. 

Pairing- Sihtric x Plus Size!Reader & Hvitserk x Plus Size!Reader

Warnings: Angst, tears, soft boys

Words: 3k

Tag List: @youbloodymadgenius @evelynshelby @pomegranates-and-blood @deans-ch-ch-cherrypie @geekandbooknerd @adrille88 @dini73 @flowers-in-your-hayr​ (lemme know if you want to be added or deleted)

Catch up with Part 1

Sunlight streamed through the window in your home, warming your skin, as you tended to the few herb pots on the window sill. A pleased grin resided on your face as you took in how the plants were thriving. They had been a gift from Queen Aslaug for your last name day. You could not wait to tell her how alive and vibrant they were….unlike your prior attempts. 

 At the sound of the door opening, you looked over your shoulder to see Sihtric come in. You smiled at him, ready to make a quip about him getting off early from training. The tease died on your tongue when you really took in his appearance. His shoulders were hunched over, like he carried the weight of the world there. Each movement, each step, was slow and deliberate as if moving through a fog. Even the couple warrior braids on one side of his head were thoroughly disheveled. You wondered what had caused him to run his hand over them so aggressively and frequently. Yet it was the frown that marred his handsome face and the distant look in his dark eyes that caused a concerned churning in your gut.  

 "Sihtric, what's wrong?" You fully turned around, dusting the little bit of dirt off your fingers. 

 Carefully, he unhooked his sword belt, moving methodically, and laid it on the table with that far off glaze still over his eyes. His soft lips were pressed together in a thin line. It was not until he began walking in your direction that he lifted his gaze to meet yours. His arms wrapped around you, pulling your full frame against him. You immediately placed your arms around his neck, laying your head on his chest. Beneath your ear, you could hear his unsteady heartbeat and his shallow breathing. Internally, you attempted to quell your own fear, knowing Sihtric needed comfort right now, for whatever had caused his distress. This was the first time you had ever seen him act this way, and truthfully, it frightened you. 

 You started to massage the back of his neck with your hand, lightly squeezing and rubbing it in a way you knew soothed him. In response, his arms tightened around you, somehow drawing you even closer as if he wanted to meld your bodies into one. His head rested on yours, and for a moment you thought you heard a sniffle but you were uncertain. 

 A handful of minutes passed before you decided to break the silence. "Sihtric? What happened?"

 "I'm going to ask you a question…." he whispered, "....and I need you to answer honestly."

 "Of course."

 "Did Hvitserk and you have sex recently?"

 Immediately, you felt as if you had plunged into a frozen lake. Ice filled your veins, even as you tensed. It had been two days since Hvitserk and you slept together, and you had truly hoped that the blond prince had taken to heart your begging for him not to say anything to Sihtric. Guilt had clawed away continuously at your mind ever since Hvitserk walked out of your home, determined to find your man. But that night when Sihtric returned from guard duty, a tired smile on his face and a lingering kiss to your lips, you knew Hvitserk had not found him. So you had hoped, and prayed, that this would all blow over somehow. 

 Yet the truth was, a Pandora's box had been awakened in you. For even now, you still thought of Hvitserk in your bed, confessing his devotion to you. And you desperately wanted to make love to him again. 

 "So, he was telling the truth…." Sihtric stated blandly. His arms unwound from around your waist, then grabbed yours from around his neck and dropped them like they had physically burned him. Without another word, he stepped back away from you, creating distance that felt so much more than just physical. 

 Your heart shattered like broken pottery at your feet with the utter look of betrayal on his face. "Please, lemme ex‐‐" 

 He held his hand up, cutting you off. Your mouth audibly snapped shut. Silently, you watched him take several shallow breaths, hands on his hips, as if trying to internalize his anger and pain, to make sure he did not lash out at you. 

 At this moment though, you wish he would. Anything would be better than watching him attempt to hide his pain, his heart tearing in two. You wish he would scream at you. But this was Sihtric. He was too good, too kind, too caring to lash out at you. It only wrecked your heart even more. 

 "Sihtric, please, it was--" 

 "I trusted you." He cut you off again. A tear slid down his cheek before he hastily wiped it away. "I thought….I thought you were happy with me. I know we haven't known each other long but….I guess I should have expected this."

 "What?"

 "I have seen the way you and Hvitserk look at each other. You always explained it away as being best friends, but I know….in my gut I knew there was more to it. But I trusted you. You're the only woman besides my mother I've ever trusted….and cared for."

 Tears streamed down your cheeks and dripped onto your ample chest, a physical manifestation of the river of anguish coursing through you. "I am happy with you."

 "Then why?! I don't understand!"

 "Because….ugh, it seems so stupid now."

 "Am I not enough for you? I know he's a prince and I'm only a bastard but you said that didn't matter. Has that changed?" He took another step back, furthering the void growing between you two. 

 You wanted to reach out to him, to bridge the gap, to just touch him and hope he felt your sorrow. But the crestfallen look on his face, the dejection in his dark eyes stayed your hand. "No, I promise." You pleaded, hoping he could hear the truth in your words. "I don't care that you're a bastard."

 "Then why?!" He demanded, another tear rolling down his cheek. "Why would you do that? To me? To us?!"

 "Because I thought you were going to leave me!" You cried out. There it was. The painful truth. You never expected him to truly stay. But once you got a taste of him, knew what it was like to be cherished….you never wanted to let him go. 

 His eyes widened and mouth opened slightly as he took in your words. "What?" 

 This time it was you who stepped away. You turned your back on him, your stomach churning and for a moment you worried you might vomit. "I've seen you talking lately more with the shieldmaidens, laughing with them, training with them…."

 "So, it is jealousy? You decided to get back at me by letting Hvitserk fuck you?" He accused. 

 "No!" You whipped back around, frustration and sorrow creating an explosive concoction in your heart. "Gods! That's not…."

 "What is it then?"

 "I figured you were talking to them because you disliked having sex with me and were looking for someone….new. Someone who would be more interesting and knowledgeable and….and prettier. Just, someone not like me."

 This time he looked utterly destroyed after your explanation. "What?"

 "Why else would you be leaving immediately after we have sex? Or….or stay out so late? I just thought I was becoming boring to you….which I understand…."

 "And Hvitserk?"

 You shrugged. "He offered to help try and boost my confidence….in the bedroom….hopefully that would make you want to stay. I didn't know he had….feelings until after."

 He scrubbed his hands over his face as he heaved a deep sigh. Turning, he placed his hands on the back of a nearby chair as if to ground himself.

 "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Sihtric." You mumbled through your tears, as you pressed a hand to your mouth, desperately trying to suppress the sobs rising up in your throat. "Please just….I'm so sorry."

 He shook his head, his voice morose. To your surprise, he chuckled darkly before speaking again. "No, I'm sorry. It's my fault. It's all my fault."

 "What? No…." 

 He turned around, a wetness on his cheeks that had not been there prior. "I should have told you….I just…." His voice trailed off, his gaze dropping to the floor. 

 "Sihtric? What? Told me what?"

 "I love you!" He blurted out. 

 All the air vanished from your home. Your lungs struggled to expand, leaving your mouth gaping open. A kick to the chest from a horse would have been less painful than his admission. You could only stare at him as his declaration bounced around in your brain but refused to settle. "You….you do?"

 Slowly he walked over and tenderly held your hands in his, the battle-hardened calluses a contradiction from your own soft hands. Those dark eyes you loved stayed focused on your clasped hands as he spoke softly. "I know we haven't been together long….but I've known it for a while. You're special. Before you I never wanted to open up, trust was something that was hard. A quick fuck was easy, but to linger, to find myself wanting to hold you in my arms all night, to see your sleepy, sated face in the morning light. That was new. And it scared me. Somehow you changed all that. The more time we spent together, the more I hated to be away from you. That's how I knew….that's how I knew I loved you."

 "Why did you never say anything?"

 He chuckled, thumbs rubbing on the back of your hands. "I almost did. Gods, so many times. After we'd make love. Sometimes in the morning, seeing you laying in our bed. When I'd come back from training or guard duty and you'd greet me with that sweet smile on your face and a kiss….so many times I had to bite my tongue to keep the words from spilling forth."

 Everything clicked in that moment. And if it was possible for your heart to shatter even more, yours surely had. "That's why you would leave….it wasn't because you didn't like me…."

 "Never."

 "Sihtric, I love you too." You choked out amidst a sob. "I wish you had said something."

 "I couldn't."

 "Why not?"

 Finally, he raised his eyes to meet yours, a smile full of hopelessness on his lips. "Because I knew Hvitserk was in love with you, just as much as you're in love with him."

 "But…."

 "I know you always said you're best friends, but it's obvious to anyone who looks past the facade. There was always more underneath. The way you two gravitate to each other, the lingering looks and touches, the comfortability there….I always figured I was just someone to pass the time with, until the two of you finally confessed to one another. I just never expected it would be my fault that it'd finally happen."

 "Oh Sihtric, I'm so sorry." You cried, no longer able to restrain your sobs. Sihtric pulled you against him, letting you bury your head against his broad chest as you bled out your heartache. With the way his chest rose and fell rapidly and the wetness against your hair, you knew he was silently crying with you. For the miscommunication. For the betrayal. For all the unspoken hopes and dreams both of you had carried, now trampled and laying broken at your feet. 

 After some time, when both of your tears subsided, you continued to cling to one another like that would somehow stem the outpouring of your bleeding hearts. 

 The dark-haired Viking broke the silence tainted with misery. "He said he wanted to fight me. For you. Over you. How he can't live without you now….and will do anything to have you."

 "Will you?" You cautiously asked, face still pressed to his wet tunic. "Will you fight him?"

 "Do you want me too?" 

 You lifted your head, wanting to see his face as you answered. "I don't want you to fight. Either one of you. I'm not….I'm not worth it."

 "You're worth everything." He replied, cupping your cheek so tenderly it caused a fresh wave of tears to fill your eyes. 

 "Sihtric….please don't. I couldn't bear it if you got hurt….either one of you."

 "Then you need to decide."

 Your heart stuttered in your chest, your breath catching. "What do you mean?"

 "Y/n, my love…." He rubbed his thumb over your cheek, collecting the evidence of your sorrow. "You have to choose one of us."

 You shook your head. "I don't….I can't….Sihtric."

 His thumb continued to run along your cheek as he gazed at you, a swirl of emotions in his eyes that pierced you like an arrow. After a long moment, he nodded and dropped his hand. "I'll leave. Let you think in peace. Just know….whatever your decision, I'll respect it." 

 "Sihtric…." You begged, but what more could you say?

 After pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, he released you from his strong arms. He stared at you helplessly, further shredding any remnants of your heart left. With that, he quickly turned and walked away, snatching his sword belt off the table, not even bothering to take the time to put it on before he was out the door. 

 Soon as the door softly closed behind him, you dropped to the ground with soul-wracking sobs. 

 It was selfish, you knew. There were two handsome, perfect men both asking for your devotion, both desiring you, both wanting you to choose them over the other. How could you possibly choose? You wanted them both. Needed them both. It was so selfish. 

 But it was the gods-forsaken truth. 

 ***** 

 You cried yourself to sleep that night. 

 And the next night, when Sihtric did not return home. 

 Hvitserk found you the next morning, still lying in bed. Your throat was hoarse from all your crying and your eyes felt permanently dry and red-rimmed. Curled under your furs in your thin shift, the desire to leave your warm nest was nonexistent. Food and drink had barely passed your lips. You knew it was all your own fault. Yet you wallowed in your misery, unable to escape its tenacious pull. Your thoughts swirled like a cyclone in your mind, a force of destruction you could not flee from. No matter how much you wanted to.  

 For how could you choose one over the other? 

 Without a word, he crawled into the bed with you, tucking your body against his in a warm embrace. Without a second thought you melted against him, desperate for the safe haven he provided in the stormy seas of your mind. Your full figure snuggled against his lean form in a way that was effortless, like your bodies were made for this embrace. Exhausted from your lack of sleep and excessive crying, it did not take long for you to drift in and out of sleep, sniffling pathetically when awake. He never commented on your deplorable state of being, just held you tight, an anchor in your waves. 

 "My sweet," Hvitserk kissed the top of your head as he soothingly ran a hand up and down your back, "don't cry. The Norns will decide."

 "Please don't fight him, please Hvitserk. I couldn't take it if either of you were injured."

 "Hmmm….what did he say?"

 You sniffled pathetically, throat raw as you spoke. "He said I had to choose."

 "And?" He encouraged quietly. 

 "Oh, Serk, I'm so selfish." You lamented, gripping the front of his tunic, now ruined by your tears. "Thor strike me down! I can't. I can't choose. I love you both. Gods, I'm so selfish."

 This would be the reason for him to walk away. You were sure of it. Even after all of your years of friendship, you were unable to choose him over your lover, someone you had only known for two years. Why would the blond prince stay? There were plenty of women who would willingly fill his bed. Why would he waste his time on someone like you?

 And Sihtric. Someone who clearly gave you their all- their trust, their love, their hopes and dreams. Surely, he could easily find someone new. Someone better than you. Why would he fight for you?

 How selfish were you to hurt both of these men you loved….and for some reason they loved you too. 

 Suddenly, you felt him nuzzle your hair. "You love me?" He whispered. 

 "Yes."

 He hummed, a hand drawing random patterns on your back as if in thought. "And you love him?"

 "Yes." You choked out, a fresh wave of remorse and self-loathing crashing over you. 

 Gently, he tipped your face up to draw you into a kiss. A soft press of mouths, urging you to respond, to sink into the comfort he so willingly offered. You clung to him as your lips moved in tandem, seeking the momentarily solace provided. 

 You pulled back eventually, opening your eyes to meet his green orbs. "Serk?"

 "It'll all work out, beautiful. You'll see." He assured with a smile, drawing you back to his sweet lips. 

 Even with his confident words, you were left unsure if you could believe him. 

 Or if your fractured heart could even try. 

Part 3

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

happy birthday, @irrlicht-ghostfront ❤️ i love you, and i'm judging you for this being your prompt, but i love you some more, so here <33 (warnings: car accident) [NO MCD]

It wasn't supposed to be this way.

Blink and a miss — accident — wrecked car, and fleeting on the painful side of barely conscious in a pool of his own blood. There was too much of it anyway. Castiel felt dizzy more than he felt the pain as time, almost tangibly, passed on.

There's no way he was going to live.

(It was supposed to end old — fingers crossed for painless. Featuring inevitably beeping monitors, and time to come up with last words. A goodbye to his family.

Not that he had much of one right now — he isn't sure if he can call Dean's family his, yet; Dean seems to insist on it but then he's always been a pioneer in giving Castiel more than he could ever deserve, starting with his own heart, so Castiel can't tell — but he'd finally started to have intentions to, in the future.

A dog, for Dean.

Children.

Intentions to beg his brother to come back, and not give up until he'd gotten his forgiveness and his only remaining family back. But that — well, it was a different alley than Castiel's thoughts swarmed to right now. And swarm they did, his head throbbing, and life thudding at its gates.

Castiel had also intended to marry Dean, misty-eyed and denying it. Intended to figure out flower arrangements, and guest seating. Intended to kiss him at the end of the aisle, with his hands cupping Dean's face, and Dean's around his waist.

Then, move out from their shared apartment into a house.

Yellow wallpapered bedroom.

Treasure, and keep Dean happy forever.

Fuck.)

His breathing is still ragged, and his head feels too empty, but the heaving has lessened. Probably the blood loss. Less pain, more haze. And the resultant thoughtlessness is perhaps the only thing that sparks the courage in him to do what he does next.

Castiel picks up his phone.

(A struggle, but he's determined.)

If he's dying, and he'll never get to live the life he'd finally started to dream of — never have a life to share with Dean, never get to see Dean again, then he'll take what he can get.

He's allowed this, he tells himself. Allowed to be selfish, one last time.

He's on his deathbed after all.

It's outstandingly painful to bend his neck enough to see he's picked the right number — but the mere idea of accidentally calling an acquaintance at a time like this brings a tensed sliver of life into his muscles, and straining, he looks. Right enough, he's got 'Dean :)' on the screen.

Pressing dial, he lets his head fall back on the seat, wincing again. Maybe that'll relent the floatiness, if his body circulates some goddamn blood into his brain — because he needs this.

He's dying, but he needs this. One last time, he needs Dean.

A thumb swipes the familiarly placed 'on speaker' button — he can't bring the phone to his ear right now. He's going to have to risk Dean hearing the still crackling ruins of the poor engine, strewn across the wreck in smoldering pieces.

He must make quite a sight, he thinks, waiting for the call to go through. Man found in car wreckage, trapped by the door, dead within —

"Cas?"

Dean's voice cuts through Castiel's morbid mental news report, and almost reflexively, he closes his eyes. There's a tangible relief in his head when he does it, and god, Castiel must've been doing worse than he's convinced himself he is.

Dean sounds beautiful as always, and so familiar its like home.

It's the last time he ever gets to have this.

"Hello, Dean." Maybe he manages to not sound weird, or Dean's just not listening for clues. The loud racket behind him, at Bobby (and Dean's) automobile shop, helps as well.

"Hey." There's a smile in his voice now. Fuck. He's smiling. He's smiling, and he's smiling at Cas, and it's the last time Castiel ever gets to hear it.

He loses himself trying to remember the last time he saw Dean smile — earlier this morning, kissing him goodbye before he left — no, down from their balcony, accompanied by a gleeful wave because Dean's shift started a couple hours after Cas's day in the office did — no, when Castiel checked the time, and the Dean on his lockscreen grinned up at him — and he doesn't realize he's fallen silent until Dean's speaking again.

"Babe, you okay?"

There's a tinge of worry. Only a smidge, and it still hurts. The last time Castiel hears Dean can't be laced with anything bad. And it can't be Castiel's fault.

There's a pause. "Cas, what's up?"

Castiel doesn't know what to say so he tries to hold on to the phone tighter, his throat fluttering as a tear rolls down his face.

"Wait," The worry dissipates, apology slipping in. "Am I forgetting something? Did we make plans for lunch, 'cause Bobby and —"

"N-no." Cas struggles, and it's getting harder to not pant. He sounds too breathy anyway. "We don't. Didn't."

He forces a smile into his voice while saying it. As if it doesn't break him that he'll never get to see Dean again. But he needs to smile, doesn't he? One last time. Just for Dean.

"Well, do you want to?" Dean sounds cheerful. Normal.

Perfect.

Castiel doesn't want to die.

"Not, today." He half-heaves, and another tear rolls down his face.

Not today.

(If he'd known, he'd have stared to his heart's fill this morning. Kissed him an hour longer. Held him in his sleep. Oh, if he had had any foresight at all.)

"Dickface-atron keeping ya busy?"

Castiel lets the air stuck in his chest out, and it probably makes up for a small chuckle. He doesn't want to lie, he just won't agree.

"Figures."

"Sorry." Castiel tells him, meaning it entirely.

"Nah, s'good. I love you." Dean adds, clearly smiling wider, because they've only recently added that to their vernacular instead of the pedestal it'd been on for the first eight months of their friendship turning into a relationship. Somehow, it feels grander though — or, that might also be because it's the last time Castiel ever gets to hear Dean say it to him.

Oh, he loves him so much.

(He doesn't want to die.)

"And I have my packed lunch anyway." Dean continues, filling the gap thankfully. Machines blare in his background and he braves on like a man used to not being able to hear his own words due to the racket. Castiel is grateful for it. He hangs onto every word, drinks it in. Makes himself hold on. "Pretty sure you'd kick me to the curb if I let a PBJ go to waste."

"Jelly?" Cas smiles, when he wants to sob. He's certain he sounds fainter too, he feels fainter, and it's a miracle it doesn't show.

The tears well up in his chest, for possibly the rest of time. Dead men don't cry, and Castiel can't.

(Can't be long now, can it?)

"Jelly." Dean confirms. "It's the curse of paying attention when you rant about jam, you know." He snickers. "I used to be normal."

"Yes, I'm very lucky."

Dean chuckles, and Castiel sighs.

He's yearned for Dean to be happy, tried to make him smile, longed to see him laugh, for so, so long it feels like a part of him now. And now, it goes back to Dean, without him.

Somebody else'll make him smile, somebody else will wake him up with a kiss on his temple, and somebody else will love Dean for exactly who he is because it's Dean, and there was never someone who deserved it more — so of course somebody will.

But it will never be him again.)

An untethered broken sound escapes his throat, and Cas winces, faking a cough with it.

That makes the blood gush.

"Oh, also — wait. Just a second." He interrupts himself, and probably covers the speaker with his palm before yelling blurrily to someone near him.

(Or perhaps it's not supposed to be blurry. Castiel wouldn't know. He can hardly make out his own breathing. It's a feat that he can make out the conversation, even if most of it is instinct memory, and all he's doing is holding onto Dean for as long as he can.

Somehow, it feels like he's been doing so forever. But the time left, had never been so little.)

When Dean returns, he sounds apologetically busy.

"Dude, that dick who yelled at Ash, remember? He's back. Garth went this time, 'cause douchebag brought a Sedan."

Castiel swallows again, and vaguely registers that it tastes like metal. Almost like there's blood mixed with saliva.

There's another morbid thought. What, in this wreck, is finally going to kill him?

"I should probably check on him. Garth sorta wears on you."

"Of course." He croaks, and slips — fuck, he slips — but for once, thank god for oversensitive customers and boyfriends with likeable personalities, because Dean's conversing off the phone again, his hand on the speaker.

"I'll call you back, babe." Dean comes back to add in a rush, and Cas sucks in a painful breath, slowly beginning to feel like the only thing keeping him conscious any more is the sensation of air in his lungs, in his mouth, in the back of his throat. "Still have to ask what you even called about, you know. Or maybe if you just missed me." He beams, he obviously beams, and Cas stifles a groan.

"I do." He wheezes. "I —"

"Me too." Dean returns, flirty, and Cas goes to add to it — because he has to, because he's not going to make it, he's not going to be able to hold on until Dean returns, and he has to — but there's a click.

Castiel stares at the screen, devastated.

(Or tries to, anyway.)

"I love you," He cries out, aware that the line's cut, but needing to hear himself say it anyway. Plus, his head feels too numb to keep words inside anymore. It's less a prison of thoughts, and more a canyon of loss.

More tears fall.

His heart is beating faster than it ever has.

"I love —" His voice trembles, tries again, and fails. His throat refuses to comply with the thousands of things there remain to be said, and the words slowly fade, neglected.

In more ways than one, it's like being administered anaesthesia before a surgery — Castiel was operated on for tonsils at age eleven, and he remembers it still — and it finally sinking in, and knocking you out, as the doctor says to count to ten, and you hardly graze six.

His hands clutch the phone tighter, neck rendering him incapable of looking anymore, so he has no idea what his thumbs are trying to type — but it doesn't matter, not really, because this is it. Completely alone, young, and desperately in love with Dean Winchester, Castiel closes his eyes for the very last time.

And everything fades to black.

*

When they find him, it's been at least four hours.

It's night.

The uniformed official stuck with the responsibility of calling the next of kin, Victor Henriksen, fishes out the wallet as the paramedics carry him into the ambulance and attach him to IV immediately, and steps away to dial his emergency contact with a crinkled brow of sympathy.

And as he waits for the guy, a Dean Winchester, to pick up, he can't help but notice that his number is exactly the same as the one the last text almost sent from the victim's phone had been typed to — clutched in his hand, an unnerving, 'I love'.

And well, he isn't particularly into romcoms, but he hopes the poor guy gets a chance to finish his sentence.

He was in pretty bad condition, Henriksen recalls, and the bloodloss had knocked him out for several hours, but he looked twenty five at most, more importantly healthy, and — he looks at the wallet again, and the picture of two men (one of them, the victim) smiling at the camera with their hands around each other — most importantly, seemed to have reasons to fight for.

(Plus, he'd been the one to call the accident in himself — albeit four hours after it happened, but Henriksen figured he'd been passed out for that long — so he had to want to live, right?)

"Hello. Dean Winchester, who's this?"

"Hello, sir, I'm Officer Henriksen, and I have you listed as Mr Castiel Novak's emergency..."

*

"You dick."

Castiel coughs, and gives up on squinting against the bright light. It's a LED. Like in hospitals.

"Jesus, Cas. You complete asshole, you —"

Castiel opens his eyes a sliver again. The walls do resemble a hospital. Plain, white tiled. Way too many AC vents. Is that something on his hand?

"So you'll open your goddamn eyes, and not even fucking look at me."

There's IV's on both his hands. And something stiff around his neck. Almost like a collar, but thicker. And when he breathes, his ribs start like they might hurt — but the pain is numbed as it registers. He must be running really high on painkillers; they never really worked for him.

"Fine. You don't gotta look at me." A pause. Then, more shaky. "I was so scared, Cas. So fucking terrified. They said they weren't sure, said it may be too late, and you were dying. And then they tell me the crash happened at three, and I feel like I'm going to have a fucking stroke."

His vision slowly unblurs, feeling returning to his fingers. He tries to fold them, and winces at the strain.

Immediately, there's a hand on his arm.

"Stop moving, dumbass. I'm going to kill you for this, you know. I am, but I need you to be okay first."

The words don't register, but the voice does.

(He sounds beautiful as always, and so familiar it's like home.)

"Hell, I just need you, Cas. Period. I need your ridiculous, stupid ass — and I need you to look at me when I'm begging you to be okay, and I need you to stay, with me, forever, and not call me first when you need a goddamn ambulance, you dumbass —"

"Hello, Dean." Castiel interrupts, a hoarse whisper, and he thinks he hears a sob from the general direction of the love of his life.

(He really can't move his neck — he's got to tell Dean that at some point if he's not understood already. It's the cast.)

"Oh, thank god." Dean cries, the words muffled by either him burying his face in his sleeve, or the lifesaving medications Castiel is alive on account of, but it's okay, right? Dean's here — and he's okay. It's fine.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm still going to kill you for this."

"Well, I'd deserve that." Castiel tries to joke, and almost pulls it off, except for the part where he can't see Dean's reaction until the latter lets out another broken sob, and grabs his hand. Castiel freezes, trying to squeeze back, tears welling up again. "I'm really sorry, Dean." Then, after a beat. "I'm going to make this up to you."

It feels like a strange thing to say, but it's exactly what he means.

"Yeah, you are. Although it can't stop my revenge being not texting you when I have a heart attack in aisle three when I'm eighty and you're buying eggs, but okay."

If Castiel could, he would've shaken his head at that.

(But at least, and this is what really matters — they made it. He's alive. He — he gets this.)

"I love you, you son of a bitch."

Castiel smiles slowly, a tear landing on his pillow. "I love you too."

[icefire149]

Fluff prompts. 51 + destiel :)

Heyyyy there <3 I'm so sorry how long this took to write. Between my own life throwing hurdles, THIS FIC.....this fic just kept throwing me in the trunk and taking control of the car. I'm so sorry it sprung a million miles away from fluff immediately. I don't know why when I mediated on the prompt my mind went this way and didn't stop. I hope you still enjoy what ended up happening anyways <333

#51 “I will love you forever and when ‘forever’ ends, I’ll love you some more.”

Dean’s heart stopped the moment they fell through the portal rift. His body hit the bunker floor with a loud thump, but so did Castiel’s. It wasn’t until a moment later when Cas wiggled to sit up, slamming the palm of his hand onto the floor as he gasped for air, that Sam felt his stomach drop.

“Dean?” Sam shouted, dropping to his knees at his brother’s side. He shook Dean’s shoulder with increasing roughness.

With wide eyes, Cas pushed forward searching Dean’s face for any sign of life. “He was…..Sam, he was just-”

“He’s not breathing.” Sam muttered in shock before surging forward to start pressing on his brother’s chest. “What did he do, Cas! A deal?”

“No!” His whole body started trembling. What he wanted was to lay his hands on Dean’s head and wake him up, but there was nothing he could do now. His fingers lightly grazed across the bandage Dean quickly taped on his neck. There wasn’t an ounce of grace left.

Squeezing his hands into fists, Cas glanced around the room. Besides the three of them and the bowl the brothers must have used for the spell, the room was bare. “Where’s Jack?”

Sam kept his eyes glued to his brother’s face. His jaw tightened. “A lot’s happened since you died. Jack’s God now so he left.”

“He’s what?” Furious, Cas pushed Sam’s hands aside and took over compressions. He slammed a single fist into Dean’s chest, rocking the man’s whole body from the impact. Still, Dean didn’t wake.

Cas leaned close, listening and feeling for breath against his skin. His mouth quivered as he sat up feeling for a pulse. “No,” his voice commanded.

He started compressions, pressing harder than Sam dared. Dean’s limbs convulsed. “You failed, to mention, that you let, our son, become God,” he growled in between beats, letting his eyes trail up to Dean’s face. “You promised, me, forever! You promised. You promised.”

“You’re….breaking his rib cage,” Sam’s voice broke. His eyes were wide with horror as he watched his brother’s chest concave more than he thought possible. “Cas?” Sam’s voice shook. He rested a shaky hand on the angel’s shoulder.

“You don’t, get to die,” Cas mumbled, ignoring Sam’s presence. His hands paused for a moment as he took a deep breath. The sound of his own heart racing was like a loud boom, pounding on his eardrums. “Jack Kline, you will come home right now.”

Cas resumed compressions. Again, and again. He blinked the beading tears away, but they quickly filled his eyes. His hands, the bunker, Dean….they all blurred away as he kept beating to the rhythm of his nightmare.

The tears ran hot down his cheeks while he blinked. He needed to keep Dean in his sight. Dean was his beacon home. Sniffling, Cas couldn’t stop.

Sam withdrew his hand. “Cas?” his voice was so small and afraid like several decades were suddenly torn away.

Then as Cas pressed, he finally turned to glance at Sam. His voice cracked, "We're gonna need an ambulance."

At that, Sam flew to his feet, feeling for his phone before spotting it on the nearby table. He was unlocking it when a blinding light filled the room.

"Castiel?"

“Fix him.” Cas didn’t look up. He kept pounding on Dean’s chest. His compressions had only lessened a fraction in strength.

But Jack didn’t move from where he stood on the other side of Dean. His gaze moved over to Sam, and the fear circling there twisted the hunter’s gut into knots. “But I…..” Slowly, he dropped down to a knee, and then the other. “Cas,” his voice cracked. “There’s a bigger picture that I’m apart of now. I promised to protect it. I promised not to interfere.”

“And I, promised, to protect you,” Cas answered, halting compressions. He remained hunched over Dean with his hands still pressed over his heart. The angel’s eyes squished shut as quiet sob tore through him.

New tears slid down his already soaked face, hugging his jaw. “I can’t do that without saving him one more time. He promised me forever.” His gaze slid up to meet his son’s with fiery determination. “Jack, it’s too soon to be his time.”

“Okay.” Jack laid his hands next to his father’s. He closed his eyes, and breathed.

Dean gasped awake with three sets of eyes staring at him from above. The angels withdrew their hands.

Sam fell back into the chair at his side. His whole body sagged with exhaustion. “Thank you.”

“What happened?” Dean’s stare bounced back and forth between everyone. He slowly sat up, and Jack collided into him first.

Pressing his chin into Dean’s shoulder, Jack collapsed into him. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

A few coughs tore through Dean’s body, but he kept a hand on the center of Jack’s back the whole time. When his breathing settled, Dean hugged him back. Also with his free hand, he laid a hand on Cas’ knee.

“I felt it….when I healed you. Everything,” Jack confessed quietly. “Your heart gave out.”

Dean snorted at that. “That’s not much of a surprise, kid.” His eyes met his brother’s. “Sammy’s been telling me for years the bacon was gonna get me.”

“No.” Jack hung on tighter. “It was grief. The loss of Cas…….me. It weakened your heart, but I knitted it all back together again.”

“Oh.” Dean’s grip on Cas’ leg tightened.

“I didn’t know you would miss me.” The words came out quiet enough that Dean wasn’t sure if Jack meant to speak them out loud. And then Jack started to let go, but Dean held on tighter.

“I’m an expert at messing up….heh, well, everything in my life, but yeah, of course Jack. Of course, I missed you.”

-

The rest of the day felt almost too good to be true. They all climbed into the impala -Dean drove much to Sam’s dismay- and they went out to their favorite diner closest to the bunker.

Over their favorite meals, Jack began going over his progress and plans for all of creation. There were several parts where his excitement was palpable, but he clearly was trying to be mature about the situation under Cas’ scrutinizing eye. Sam followed after, explaining in detail the spell work him and Rowena poured over crafting the past several months. Intermittently, Dean cut in to proudly point out where his research came in handy and how him and Eileen went about gathering the ingredients.

Afterwards, Jack looked up from his dessert with chocolate syrup smeared at the corner of his mouth. His eyes narrowed as he studied Dean closely. “Now that Castiel is free, what are you planning on doing now?”

Surprised, Dean leaned back in the booth. “That’s not my call.” He wrapped an arm around Cas’ shoulders. “Any ideas?”

“No more dying,” Cas answered firm, taking a long drink from his beer. His steely gaze slowly moved to each person at the table. “That goes for all of you.”

“And you too,” Jack pressed.

“Of course.” Cas shivered involuntarily. “I’m not planning on returning to the Empty any time soon.”

“You shouldn’t, ever,” Sam answered. “That was the push behind removing your grace. Without it the Empty shouldn’t have any claim over you.”

“Thank you,” Cas answered, picking at the label on his beer bottle.

“You’ll never go back.” The tone in Jack’s voice lifted Cas’ gaze to his. “When the time comes, you’ll have a place at my side. Forever.”

Smiling softly, the tension drained away from Cas’ body. “Thank you, Jack. That’s an honor.”

“You’ll all have an important place,” Jack continued happily. “Mary too. And my mother.”

-

That night had a difficult start. Jack reluctantly left for Heaven. He promised to return for the following weekend to discuss his duties further with Cas. And Cas, he held onto his son for so long that Jack in between his laughter had to appeal to Sam and Dean for help getting free.

It wasn’t long later that Sam got up from the library chairs they were all located at and rested a hand on Cas’ shoulder. “I’m so glad you’re back. Sleep well.”

“Goodnight Sam,” Cas answered. He watched Sam cross over to Dean and punch his shoulder teasingly.

Once Sam was out of sight, Dean’s gaze landed on Cas. Dean rubbed the back of his neck. “Today, uh, didn’t exactly go as planned, but….I’m glad it happened.”

Cas’ stare hardened. “Dean, you died.”

“And I got better.”

Sighing, Cas’ gaze fell to his lap. He chewed at the inside of his cheek. “I can’t do that again.”

“Well, I can’t watch you die for….what? The fourth? The fifth time?”

Wincing, Cas nodded. “You asked me earlier….or rather, Jack asked you, what we’re planning on doing next and-” He sat up straighter in his chair and held Dean’s stare. “I want us to retire from hunting.”

Gobsmacked, Dean blinked. “Retire?”

“Doing research. Providing assistance on the phones….that’s all still acceptable and I’m willing to compromise on that.”

Dean chuckled, “Okay.”

“Okay?” Cas repeated, not quite believing what he was hearing.

“Yeah.” Dean nodded with a grin. “I’ve been bugging Sam for a couple years now about retiring…..especially if Jack could make things better...like the future that you saw.”

“Oh.” Cas tilted his head a bit. “I didn’t realize that you took that to heart.”

“I didn’t at first,” he admitted. “You died, and I figured that it was all one huge manipulation. Gabriel’s illusions. Lucifer’s lies.” Cas nodded, and Dean continued. “But then, you came home and….it became hard not to see so much of...you in him.”

“He’s a good boy, but I’m afraid that you’re placing too much….credit? On my shoulders.”

Dean’s grin widened. “Jack’s good, because he has the best father to emulate. There’s nobody else that fights….and sacrifices...to do the right thing like you.”

The corner of Cas’ mouth curved. “And they’re probably better off for it….”

“Cas, come on.” Dean sighed. “Okay, you did your big speech about how you see me….well suck it up, because you need to learn to see yourself the way everyone else sees you.”

Cas rolled his eyes.

“I’m serious,” Dean pressed. “Like yeah, things don’t always go as we planned. I sure as hell know Chuck didn’t plan on being fired and left in the dirt, but….the point is that, you’re probably the best guy in existence.”

That knocked the air out of Cas’ lungs and slapped a goofy smile on his face. “You’re biased.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m wrong, and I’m not.”

Cas shook his head, but that smile was still firmly there. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Come on,” Dean said standing up. He reached a hand out towards the angel. “It’s time for bed.”

Without hesitation, Cas took his hand but he didn’t rise from his chair. He stared at the marvel that was Dean’s skin pressed against his. It was callused in a few places, but still softer than Castiel imagined.

His gaze lifted up to meet Dean’s and a pang of anxiety wrapped around his chest. The joy slipped from his face.

“What’s wrong?” Dean’s grip tightened.

“What if I don’t wake up? Statistically, there’s a chance I’m still asleep in the Empty.”

Dean tugged Cas’ arm, and the angel let himself be pulled forward and engulfed in Dean’s arms. They clung onto each other tightly.

“You’re here,” Dean pressed. “This is real. I’ll remind you every day if I have to. I meant what I said when you woke up.”

“And then you almost didn’t get to fulfill that promise.”

“I would’ve,” Dean said, in a matter of fact. Pulling back, his eyes trailed over every inch of Cas’ face. He brought a hand up to cup the angel’s cheek, and then Dean leaned forward to press a kiss to Cas’ forehead. “Where ever my soul would've ended up, nothing was gonna change. I’d still love you.”

Cas raised an eyebrow. “So you’re promising, forever-forever?”

Chuckling, Dean dropped his head so his forehead was on Cas’ shoulder. “Yeah,” he breathed, laughing still. “When forever ends, I’ll just love you some more.”

Other fics from this round of prompts

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[smol-and-grumpy]

Legally Yours - Ch. 26

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester tops the list of hottest entrepreneurs 2020 and yet, there’s still something he wants but can’t have because, in order to get that, he would have to settle down and get married. She agrees too quickly because she wants to secure a more comfortable life for her and her daughter. Will she be able to help Dean get what he wants without losing herself in the fake story they spin up to deceive his father and the world?

Chapter Warnings: We’re still at the angst, because someone’s obviously still an idiot. We also might detect some jealousy. 

WC: 4214

Beta’d by: @deanwanddamons​​​​​​​​ <3

This series is complete on Patreon

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Series Masterlist ~ SPN Masterlist

Five days later, she’s sitting in her kitchen, job application website open on her laptop while Bobby’s at work and Olivia’s at school.

The first night was hard on the girl. Olivia crawled into bed with her, spinning up tales that she missed her toys they left at Dean’s but she is sure that a part of the little girl’s heart is aching for Dean because hers is too. 

Y/N hasn’t heard from him and it took everything in her not to shoot him a message and ask him how he’s doing. She’s fairly certain that if she would choose to go down that road, she’ll get weak and that’s against the new rule that she’s set up for herself in order to protect herself and her family.

Donna sent her a text when she arrived back at her old apartment, asking how her honeymoon was going and when Y/N told her that she’s back, Donna offered to come over. They sat around the tiny kitchen table with boxed wine between them, drinking and talking. Yeah, boxed wine. Over are the days of cheap bottles. Well, she reckons she could afford it with the money from the marriage contract but she’d rather not as she has a future to think about. 

She didn’t sulk, didn’t allow herself to. She needed to be strong for Olivia and keep it all together. Her friend parted with a promise to help her find a man who she deserved. She only smiled. Couldn’t find it in her heart to say that she’s not looking for a man, that she thinks that Dean’s ruined her for all other men, that she’s most likely destined to be alone forever. At least she has Liv, and honestly, that’s all that counts. God, she’s so glad to have that little girl. She would have been broken beyond repair if it wasn't for Liv. 

While she touches up her CV at the kitchen table where she poured her heart out to Donna the evening before, her phone starts to buzz next to her. Her heart jumps. She hates the buzz of her phone because she’ll always think that it could be Dean and when it’s not him, she will always feel so deflated. Somehow, she’s okay with the situation but a little part of her still hopes that he would change his mind and come back to her. 

This time it’s no different when she looks at her phone. If anything, it’s even worse. Sam’s calling. 

She debates on not picking up but decides that she has to because he’s probably calling about the annulment. It’s really the only thing left that keeps her tied to Dean on a contractual level, and after she signs that, it’s like the marriage never existed. 

“Sam?”

“Yeah, uh, hi, Y/N,” The man can be heard on the other end. A little breath leaves him, and she can imagine that he’s smiling. Ever the friendly Sam. She can’t lie, she misses him too. 

“You’re calling about the annulment?” She gets straight to the point. There’s really no point in stretching this out unnecessarily. 

“Um, actually no. Dean’s not really talkative and he’s not going to sign it.” 

“What do you mean he’s not going to sign it?” She doesn’t understand, has a hard time wrapping her head around it. Why did Dean still want to be married to her when she walked away from him? There’s no point in pretending anymore and she has made up her mind. The only way she’s going is forward and not back. She wants to move on. 

“Don’t worry about it. He’s only been back two days, I need time to talk him through it. We should have the annulment finalized by Monday, I promise.” 

“I trust you,” She says into the receiver, because she does. If someone can talk sense into Dean, it will probably be Sam. “How is he?” 

“Do you want to hear the truth or do you want me to lie to make you feel better?” 

“Lie.” 

“He’s doing great.” 

“That’s good.” 

Sam snorts, “Well, I knew you'd feel better if you knew that he’s doing okay without you.”

“You’re right. I don’t want him to feel bad but somehow I also want him to, you understand?”

A burst of laughter rumbles on the other end, “I know,” Sam replies, “He’s a gigantic dick, Y/N. I think he knows that and he’s beating himself up for it. He’s been back at work for two days and according to Rowena, it’s hell. He doesn’t talk to anyone and if he opens his mouth, it’s to shout at people.” 

“Wow, he’s coping well.” 

The man laughs again, “Dean’s never been good at taking rejections. He’ll get over it, eventually. Someday. Maybe. Well,” Sam pauses and exhales loudly, “Tell you the truth, I don’t think he’ll get over it. I’ve never seen him like this and it scares me, hence me calling you.” 

Y/N feels sorry for him. And there she thought that she was miserable without him. Somehow it gives her a little satisfaction to know that he’s doing just as bad, if not worse. Can anyone blame her to feel like this?

“I’m not going to go back to him just so that he’ll stop being an ass to other people.” 

“That’s not what I was going to ask you about.”

“Ah, why beat around the bush, Sam. What is it?”

Sam sighs, “Okay, as you might know, Dean hasn’t told anyone that you two broke up.” 

“Why am I not surprised?” She hopes Sam can feel through the phone how hard she’s rolling her eyes right now.

“Shush,” Sam scolds  and continues before she can say sorry for interrupting him, “He has a charity gala to attend tonight, and it would be great if you would accompany him.”

The bark of laughter that leaves her mouth is hard to hold back, “You what?” 

Sam’s not laughing, “I mean it, Y/N. He’s not doing great and he has to attend. Technically you are still his wife and you have a contract, so..”

“Oh, please, don’t come at me with a contract, Sam. Dean told me that I’m allowed to walk away. He said that he doesn’t need me to get the shares. He wasn’t the one stopping me when I walked out on him, so tell me, why should I do this? Why should I pretend when I don’t have to anymore?”

“Because you still care about him,” 

Sam’s answer is a hit to her heart. She does. She cares so fucking much but also, that means that she’s not going to give in because it’s time to put herself first. She can’t hold herself together for Olivia’s sake when there’s nobody backing her up. She won’t go through this again. 

Of course Sam’s on Dean’s side. He’s friendly to her but if Sam would have to pick sides, it would always be Dean’s. 

“I’m sorry,” She says, her voice shaking a little. No, she’s not going to cry. Not again. Not anymore.

“Okay,” Sam relents too easily, “Can’t blame me for trying.” 

“No, I can’t. Dean’s lucky to have you as a friend.” She means it. 

“I’ll come to see you as soon as Dean signs the papers, Y/N.”

“Thank you.”

“Take care of yourself and Olivia, okay? And tell me if you need anything.”

“I will, Sam. Thanks.”

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

She hangs up before she can say goodbye. The phone drops onto the table and she’s back to burying her face into her arms as she sobs. 

*

 For the next five weeks, Y/N  tries to avoid looking at tabloids pages, instead, concentrating on Olivia and helping to ease the little girl back into her old environment. 

Of course there have been texts from Donna telling her that there’s no news from Dean, at least not with another woman. She knows that she shouldn’t care about it, because if he wants to date again, it’s his right, but somehow, she can’t help but feel the pinpricks in her heart. It’s not something bad but something good because it keeps her hopes alive for a while. After she was reluctant to answer Donna's text about Dean in the first two weeks, her friend has decided that she doesn’t want to update Y/N anymore. Which is also fine with her. The less she’s reminded of Dean, the quicker it will be to get over him.

She snorts out a laugh at that thought. Yeah, right. 

Bobby has been weird the last two weeks too. He went out to meetings, saying it has something to do with his union but she knows that he doesn’t even have a union so she really doesn’t have any explanation for the two to three times the man went AWOL when he should be home but again, it’s nothing that should worry her. Bobby is still young enough to have his own life. She guesses that it has to do with a new lady friend maybe. Maybe Bobby’s being cautious too, maybe he doesn’t want her and Olivia to know when things aren’t steady with the two. She couldn’t blame him for thinking like that.

Tonight is the first time in over a month that she feels comfortable enough to leave the security of her own home. Perhaps Donna has something to do with it, begging her to finally go out and face the world, and Y/N can’t lie that Donna’s not right. It’s time to face it like a grown-up. She can’t be buried in her four walls forever. She eventually has to go out and socialize. She’s been going out a lot for interviews but that’s about it. No company has called her back yet, though. Thankfully, she still has more than enough money to get by. 

As soon as she arrives at The Roadhouse and Donna sees her, the woman is quick to be by her side, “I have a surprise for you!” 

“Oh no,” Y/N rolls her eyes, “I hate surprises.” 

“It’s not bad, I just thought, you know,” 

“Donna,” She warns her friend. Somehow, she doesn’t like where this discussion is going. 

“There’s this guy, I invited him. He’s nice, so be nice, okay? He’s not going to be the love of your life, I know that too but you should put yourself out there, just a drink, okay? It will broaden up your horizon, maybe get your ex-husband out of your mind for a little bit.” 

Jesus, Donna’s talking a mile a minute. She barely understands what the woman is raving on about.

“What?”

“There,” Donna pulls her close, points a finger to the booth where Garth is sitting with someone whose back is turned to her. 

“Oh, Donna, no!”

“Why, Donna yes!” The blonde exclaims cheerily before placing her hands on Y/N shoulders and pushing her towards the booth. “His name is Cubbie.”

“Cub-what?” 

“It’s a nickname, Y/N.”

“If that’s the nickname I don’t wanna know about his real name.”

“Cuthbert. Cuthbert Sinclair, if you wanna know. He’s a magician.”

“That’s great. Super.” Y/N groans and turns around towards the exit but Donna’s hand is firm around her shoulders, guiding her back to where Garth is already standing up to make room for her. 

“Hey, Cubbie! This is Y/N, the woman I talked to you about.” Donna’s all smiles and somehow, Y/N’s hand itches to hurt her friend.

“I’m Y/N,” She says then. The only way is forward now. 

Cubbie, still what a fucking weird name, stands up and his hands immediately go to her arms and pulls her closer to press a wet kiss on her cheek. 

Ew. Oh no, this won’t end well. 

Reluctantly she sits down, wonders how long she has to sit here until she can get up and leave without being too rude. 

She lets him buy her a drink and he orders fries to share between them while they talk. It’s not exactly bad but they just share small talk about the weather and where they’re from.

“So, you’re a magician?” She tries to sound like she’s interested, wanting to get into the deeper conversational territory.

“Yeah,” Cubbie reaches over and strokes her hair behind her ear and when he sits back up, he shows her the coin that he apparently pulled out of her, a bright smile dotes his face. She does her best to resist the urge to roll her eyes. 

“Good god,” She exclaims and the man laughs. 

He goes on to tell her about magic, which she again, has no interest in listening to. Jesus, the man can talk. While she debates on maybe hurting herself with a toothpick to have a fucking reason to get out, Cubbie excuses himself to go to the bathroom but before he goes, he leans down next to her, “How about we’re doing a little disappearing act, huh?”

“Oh god,” She huffs out but Cubbie doesn’t get her blatant disinterest. He just smiles at her.

“Think about it, I’ll be right back.”

Good riddance, is what she wants to say but doesn’t. Instead, she smiles a faux smile.

While he’s gone, she takes out her phone, shooting Bobby a text that she’ll probably won’t be that long when he feels someone is taking a seat in the booth opposite of her. 

“Back alread—”

The word won’t come out because it’s not Cubbie who’s sitting across from her but Dean. 

He has a cap on his head, is dressed casually in a black t-shirt underneath a blue plaid shirt. There are faint black circles under his eyes. He has shaved off his beard but from the length of the stubble, she can tell that he’s in the process of growing it out again. 

“C’mon, Y/N, seriously? That guy?” He asks, sounding offended, and honestly, it’s not what she really wants the first thing out his mouth to be after not being on speaking terms for over a month.

“It’s none of your business, Dean.” She snaps at him. 

“You’re right. It isn’t.” He agrees, “What is he? An accountant?”

“He has a name and he’s a magician.”

Dean barks out a laugh and even though it’s mean, she can’t help but smirk with him. 

“His name is Cubbie.” She adds, which earns another hearty laugh from Dean.

“Cubbie the magician?” He cocks an eyebrow.

“I don’t know if he has a stage name,” Y/N shrugs, “He asked me if I wanna do a disappearing act with him.”

“Oh, he will disappear, alright,” Dean growls angrily. 

She can’t read him. Why is he here, why is he crashing her blind date? So she asks, “Dean, what is this? Why are you here?” 

“I’m here every week to see if you’ll be here.”

“You know that there are phones, right?” 

“Would you have answered the phone if I called?” He challenges her and she holds his gaze. He’s right, she probably wouldn’t, even if she was hoping that he’d call but she doesn’t think that she would have picked it up because she doesn’t know if her heart can take what he’s going to tell her over the phone. “Yeah, I thought so. How’s Olivia?”

“She’s good. She enjoys being back at school. She’s going on a field trip in two weeks and I think I’m going to go along to chaperone.” 

Honestly, Y/N has no idea why she’s telling him that. Why she easily falls into a conversion with him about little things. But it feels easy, it feels like meeting an old friend. Someone where she can just pick up where they left off, even if they haven’t seen each other for a long time. Dean was her friend, she can’t deny that, and she guesses the reason why she feels at ease is that her heart can’t forget it either.

“I can do that, too,” Dean suggests without even thinking twice.

“Dean, she’s none of your concern, we’re fine without you.” Her words might be too harsh but he needs a reminder that not everything revolves around him. 

“Great.” He mumbles as Cubbie comes back from the bathroom. The poor guy stands there and is a little irritated by Dean’s presence. 

“You ready to leave?” Cubbie asks, straight up ignoring Dean’s presence and she has to give him that. It takes balls. Dean’s not someone who can be ignored. He’s tall and broad and yeah, awfully good looking. 

She stands up, nodding her head. Even if she has no intention of going anywhere with Cubbie, she also knows that she can’t stay here with Dean.

When she walks away, Dean holds her back by her wrist. The touch of him is almost too much to bear and she stills, has to close her eyes as she tries to breathe evenly. 

“You’re leaving with him? Seriously?” 

Opening her eyes to look at the source of the voice, she can clearly see the irritation on Dean’s face. 

Pulling her hand from his hold, she brings it close to her chest, fearing that she’d reach out if she let her heart decide over her mind, “It’s none of your business, Dean. You had your chance but you blew it. I’m trying to move on.” 

Dean stands up too and he’s close. The warmth radiates from him. Her body betrays her a little, sways a little closer to him. Cubbie is a couple of steps ahead but he stalls and looks back, waiting for her to follow him out. She wants to, she really does, it’s just so hard to move when the magnetic pull of Dean wraps itself around her. 

“Now, say it again a little more convincingly. Make me believe it.” Dean demands with a gruff voice while he crosses his arms over his chest, his palms nearly disappearing into his armpits, as if he too, has to resist reaching out to touch her again when it’s not what she wants.

How is it possible that he still can read her like a book? It’s not fucking fair. 

She narrows her eyes, staring him down. “You’re an ass, Dean.” She hisses and pushes out of the door, past Cubbie. When she’s out, she flags down a cab and gets in. Only when the driver rounds the street of the first block does she realize that she left Cubbie at the bar. Great. Now the act with her leaving the bar with some date is even less convincing to Dean. 

God, she’s a failure. 

 *

 “You know he still cares deeply about you, right?” Donna flops down on Y/N’s worn out couch with a bottle of beer in hand and Y/N walks over to join her friend with her glass of red wine. 

The incident at the bar in which Dean had held a metaphorical pissing competition against an oblivious Cubbie was four days ago. Almost a distant memory. She hasn’t heard from the magician, but also it’s not really surprising since they didn’t even exchange their numbers and Donna has not mentioned him again. At least there’s that. 

She frowns for a moment, “Cubbie? He barely knows me.”

Her friend rolls her eyes to the back and takes a pull at the bottle, “Dean, dummy!”

“Yeah, well, he has a hell of a way of showing it.” She grumbles, burying her face into her goblet and tips it back to take a big gulp. 

Donna admitted after the incident that she watched them with amusement. Poor Cubbie was standing there lost and sulked away on his own. Apparently, Dean grinned brightly, and god, just the image of him being so joyful and cocky about her misery makes her want to smack him across the face. But for that, she would have to see him again, which she won’t. Nope. Not going there. She can’t move on when he keeps popping up.

“You don’t see it, do you?” Donna tilts her head that’s resting on the back of the old faded sofa, cocking her eyebrow as she asks.

“See what?” Y/N eyebrows match her friend’s. 

“Jesus Christ, Y/N!” Donna huffs out, followed by a giggle. Okay, the woman should definitely not drink any more beer, also since tomorrow is Monday and she has to work. Y/N for her part, is still struggling with finding a job that would keep her head above water. She’s debating on taking two lesser paid jobs but then again, there would be no time left to spend with Liv and since she’s making Liv her priority, she keeps on searching. The blonde lays her hand on Y/N’s thigh, squeezes it, “He’s so fucking in love.”

With knitted eyebrows, she glares at her friend. Dean? In love? Has that been obvious? She shakes her head, “That’s not what he told me,” 

Her friend sits up straight and turns to her before taking a big swig of her beer and slams it onto the coffee table. Y/N gets irritated, shushes her friend with a nudge of her elbow. Liv is sleeping next door, and Donna usually knows that she has to be fucking quiet. 

“Oops,” Donna says with a shrug, and they both freeze to listen if Liv has woken up because of the noise. When they don’t hear a sound, they both breathe out in relief. Yeah, there’s no chance Donna will get another beer from her tonight. The blonde grins at her. A grin that spells mischief, “Have you ever thought that Dean Winchester, a guy who’s never been in love might not know how it feels to be in love? Have you ever thought that he might be so fucking gone on you and tries to identify his feelings but he can’t because he doesn’t fucking knows what it is?” 

God, Donna talks a mile a minute and Y/N’s brain is having trouble catching on and processing. 

Her friend pauses to wriggle her eyebrows at her but otherwise, Donna doesn’t say anything because she waits until it settles. 

Memories of the last day on the beach flashed in her mind. She recalls him asking her how she knows when you love someone and her answer was you just know. 

Could it be that he was struggling then already? He probably was but she was too deep in her own mind that she didn’t really notice.

“No,” She answers.

“No, what?” Donna asks.

“No, I have never thought that he doesn’t know how it feels to be in love. But I mean, he’s loved his mother, right? He loves Sam to a certain extent. He’s a grown ass man. He should know how he fucking feels.”

“My god, your skull is thicker than I thought.” Donna rolls her eyes dramatically. “Loving a parent is not the same as loving a partner, duh! And with Sam. There’s the bro thing, I guess? They love each other but it’s just all caveman-esque grunting and a lot of back-slapping involved. It’s how I love you,”

“You love me while you grunt and slap my back?” 

“Shut up!” Donna laughs, “Anyway, where was I...oh! Yes. Listen, Y/N, maybe you’ve been too harsh on him. I mean, yeah, of course, you have Liv to care about but don’t tell me that Liv was heartbroken when you brought her back to this place.”

She pulls her bottom lip between her teeth in thought. When she snaps out of it, she tips her wine glass back and empties it in one go.

Her friend watches her, pauses to let the things she said sink in. God, she doesn’t know why Donna’s only talking about Dean now. It’s been what? Almost two months. Where was Donna when she needed that kinda talk at the beginning when she left Dean? Donna was always here, her mind says, you just didn’t want to burden anyone and you thought that you could manage everything on your own. 

“Fact is, Y/N. I’ve never seen him like this. He barely goes out, even if he’s invited to events. The gossip sites avoid him because he became a grump while picking up fights with photographers, and don’t even get me started on the last TV appearance where he only gave short, snappish answers, making the stupidly hot interviewer very uncomfortable. A couple of months ago, he would have charmed the woman and they probably would have fucked when the producer yelled cut.”

“How do you know they didn’t?” She asks, and she doesn’t even know why she asks because the thought of him hooking up and going back to being his old self does make her feel a little uncomfortable and admittedly, jealous.

“Honestly? Maybe because the interviewer told a tabloid that she refuses to interview Dean again because he’s a dick.” 

“Well, he is a dick, she’s right.” She says drily, and she’s standing behind her opinion, it’s just now that Donna has said all those things that it makes her really wonder if she’s been too harsh to Dean. Maybe he just needed more time to figure out what he was feeling. But again, it’s too late now, isn’t it?

Ch. 27

Please share your thoughts with me, I’d love to hear your feedback.

[222col]

Complicated (Part 4)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: following on from part three, Nat and Steve have a plan, but how will it effect Bucky and Y/N?

Word Count: 1, 364

Note: p.s, there’s definitely still more parts coming hehe !! taglist: @igothroughphasesalot , @loudbluepancake , @deans-other-baby , @wanniiieeee , @apoeticwish update !!! part 5 !!!

The team had been distracted for the past few weeks. They’d each been sent out on different missions and hadn’t seen each other in a while. Luckily for Steve, he and Natasha had been paired up, meaning they had a lot of time to discuss what they were going to do about Finn. Half way through a fight, an idea popped into Nat’s head. “Hey Steve, why I don’t I pretend to seduce Finn? See what he does?” Steve stops and thinks, meaning the enemy got a good punch in. He immediately swings back and answers Nat. “That’s not a bad idea. But, Y/N’s not gonna like it.” Natasha swings her legs around the man she is fighting, knocking him to the ground. “What she doesn’t know can’t hurt her.” The two of them look around, all the bad guys laid on the floor. “Nice job, Romanoff.” 

Steve and Natasha finished their mission early, they were the first ones home. Time to put the plan into action. Finn opens his door to see Natasha. “Hey handsome,” She says before letting herself in. “Uh, hey Nat.” She sits down on the couch and motions him over with her finger. He’s puzzled, but does what she wants. Running her hands through his hair, she looks at him directly. “I’ve always found you so attractive, Finn,” A smirk appears on his face. “Oh is that right?” He moves in closer. “I was always jealous that Y/N had you, would have much preferred you in my bed.” He moves in even closer now. “Oh, Natasha, you naughty girl.” He leans in and places a kiss to her neck. She hides the disgust she feels and continues playing the role. 

“Did Bucky do this?” She asks, gently running her fingers over the cuts on his face. “Yes.” Finn answers through gritted teeth, he then laughs. “Natasha, tell me, is my plan working?” She tilts her head. “What plan?” Finn laughs again. “Is Bucky heartbroken, now I’ve taken his girl again?” It all makes sense now, Natasha thinks, he’s doing all of this to get back at Bucky. “I knew I couldn’t beat him with my body, but his mind? That I can mess with.” Natasha takes a deep breath. “I have to go,” 

The others were still out on missions, so Nat went to Steve again. She explained to him what she had learnt from Finn. “So this is all to get revenge on Buck?” He asked, she nods her head. “We have to tell Y/N as soon as she’s back.” Natasha agrees. Now it’s just a waiting game. It was another week before everyone was home. Tony was already planning the next party. It had become a tradition now, celebrating everyone’s return home. 

Throughout the week, everyone started arriving back in their teams. Y/N had been paired up with Thor. It was the night off the party, and they still hadn’t arrived. The party was in full swing by 9pm. The team tried their best to have fun, but they were all worried about their friends. Suddenly, Thor enters the room. “Started the party without me hey?” They all cheer, surrounding him and giving out hugs. “Where’s Y/N?” Bucky asks. “Just over there.” Thor points in her direction. The team turns around, spotting Y/N and Finn in the corner dancing together. Steve and Natasha share a look, they hadn’t shared what they learnt with the rest of the team yet. Everyone spreads out and carries on partying. Except Bucky. He finds an empty seat and sips his drink, watching Y/N and Finn dance. Thinking about how at the last party, it was her in his arms instead. 

Steve joins Bucky, patting him on the leg as he sits. “I need to tell you something, Buck.” He looks over to his friend, Bucky questioning him. Steve sighs and tells Bucky about what had gone down while he was away. “So, he’s using Y/N just to get back at me?” Steve nods his head. Bucky couldn’t believe it. Not thinking twice, his drink is finished and he’s walking in their direction. Steve tries to stop him, but there was no point. There was no stopping Bucky right now. 

“Hey, Bucky,” Y/N smiles. He doesn’t even look at her. He grabs Finn by the collar and pushes him to the ground. Bucky sits on top of him, swinging punch after punch. Y/N is screaming, trying to pull Bucky off of Finn. Natasha pulls her away and takes her out of the room. Sam and Steve run over to their friend to try and stop him from throwing punches. “You’re gonna kill him, Buck!” Sam shouts, scrambling over Bucky, trying to hold him back. “Good.” One last punch and Finn loses consciousness. The boys finally manage to get Bucky away, pulling him into another room. Bruce runs over to Finn, tending to him. 

“Let go of me!” Y/N screams through sobs, not being able to escape Natasha’s grasp. “Just calm down and listen to me, Y/N.” Y/N would always trust Natasha over anyone, so she did as she asked. “Finn was using you to get revenge on Bucky. He was trying to hurt him by keeping you away from him.” Y/N was trying so hard not to believe her. “No, you’re lying.” She sobbed. Natasha just took her phone out of her pocket and started playing the recording. Y/N fell onto Nat, her arms wrapping around her. “How did I fall for it? How could I be so stupid, Nat?” Natasha wraps her arms around her friend and rubs her hair. “You’re not stupid, Y/N. He had us all fooled.” Nat places a kiss to the top of her head, letting Y/N stay there for a minute. 

Bucky is raging. Barely able to breathe he’s so angry, throwing a punch at the wall. “Buck, stop it. It’s us.” Steve reassures him, trying to calm him down. Bucky slides down the wall, staying there sat on the floor. “I love her, Steve,” He says, his head bowed. “I know you do, buddy,” Steve responds, kneeling down in front of his friend. “Everyone knows.” Sam jests. Steve turns to look at him. “Not the time, Sam.” Sam just shrugs his shoulders. “I’m just saying.” Steve turns back to Bucky. “I gotta get some air. Don’t follow me.” 

“I’ve got to go find Bucky.” Y/N tells Nat, rushing off in the direction of Steve’s room, knowing he’s the only other person capable of calming Bucky down. Y/N bursts in to the room, only finding Steve and Sam. “He went to go get some air.” She knew he’d be on the roof. It’s where he goes to think. She raced straight to the staircase and ran out to the roof. Bucky was stood on the other side, with his back to her. “Bucky!” She shouts out, he turns around and see’s her. “Y/N?” She’s running towards him, not stopping. He can’t help the smile on his face. Y/N jumps straight into his arms, wrapping her legs around his waist, he catches her without question, his arms around her. “It’s always been you, Buck. I just didn’t see it.” Her lips crash straight onto his. He has never felt happiness like hearing those words and feeling her lips on his. He doesn’t ever want his lips to leave hers. He would go the rest of his life without oxygen if it meant he could live in his moment forever. 

“I love you, Y/N,” He says, his lips touching hers with each word that leaves his mouth. A sigh leaves her body, as though every worry she ever had just disappeared. Kissing him once more has he slowly lets her feet touch the floor again. “Just you and me now, okay? No messing around anymore, just you and me.” Y/N tells him, their hands interlocking, eyes not ever looking away from each other. Bucky nods his head. “Just you and me.” Placing a kiss on her forehead. They spend a little longer under the stars, their hands not leaving the others. Steve jogs up to the roof, finally spotting them. “There you two are, you’re missing the party!” 

[calaofnoldor]

Winchester Welcome

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 3,878

Summary: Everyone’s ecstatic about the impending birth of your twins, but since when do these things ever go off without a hitch for the Winchesters?

Warnings: labor/birth/complications (but nothing too graphic), potential medical inaccuracies, slight angst, bit of language, dean being an awesome big bro? 

A/N: this is part 2 of ‘Dean, Don’t’ (though i think it can be read as a stand alone) which was very kindly requested by @carryonmywaywardbucky, so if you don’t like it, you can go take it up with her (jk!). also, i’m so sorry, i don’t know where all this angst/drama came from 😬

← BACK UP | MASTERLIST

Sam had one foot up on the bench seat and the other planted firmly on the floor of the Impala. He had managed to maneuver you between his legs, where he could offer comfort and support in whatever form you needed.

With one hand pressed against the side of your colossal baby bump, Sam could feel your stomach tense up each time a contraction came, and he always urged you to breathe through them. His face would be nuzzled within your hair, while his other hand kept itself busy rubbing along your neck, shoulders, arms, back, and hips. Indeed, the man had become remarkably handsy ever since you began to show and you unwittingly loved it, even now, in the throes of labor.

“Ugh, Sam!” You grabbed his wrist in a moment of frenzied pain.

“I’m here, baby! I got you, it’s OK.” Sam burrowed his nose into your neck in consolation, and you were beyond glad he had decided to join you in the backseat, despite the tight quarters.

As the blur of buildings and trees whizzed by, your contractions intensified in both strength and frequency. “This hurts more than that time I got shot,” you groaned miserably.

Sam laughed but continued to offer gentle susurrations in his low, soothing tone, lips grazing along the shell of your ear, whilst his doting, reverent fingers brushed the hair away from your face before travelling downwards to work their magic along the base of your spine.

Although Dean tried to grant the two (soon to be four) of you some privacy, he was still able to hear every whisper of love and encouragement Sam uttered your way. He knew that there was nearly nothing his brother hated more in this world than to see you in pain and figured Sam had been doing a pretty awesome job so far, considering. And you, of course - as proven countless times before - had the pain tolerance of an indie wrestler, and Dean had never been more aware of or impressed by the fact than right now.

On this, your boyfriend agreed wholeheartedly. “Breathe, baby. You’re doing so good,” he commended with pride as you huffed through yet another massive cramp, your hands laid protectively across your distended belly.

But something didn’t feel right. Your contractions were growing closer together at an alarming rate, though no one cared to vocalize it, and although you were tempted to pull your usual shit of swallowing your discomfort in silence, you reminded yourself that this time it was about more than just you.

“Ohhh,” you finally let yourself moan aloud, “Sam, I think you might have to check me.”

“Check you?” Dean asked from the driver’s seat; his voice was a little higher than usual.

“To see how far she’s dilated,” Sam replied for you. “Baby, I can’t do that unless Dean pulls over. Do you think we should stop the car? Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“Mmm, I don’t know,” you rasped, “There’s just a lot of pressure and it feels like there’s no break between the contractions anymore.” The string of words left you panting, and you leaned further back into Sam’s embrace.

“What’s the sitch, guys? We stopping the car or should I keep driving?” Dean questioned as he turned his classic rock down a little lower.

“Keep driving,” you confirmed weakly.

Dean complied but made a point to meet Sam’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. They shared a brief moment of wordless, brotherly communication, after which Sam nodded resolutely, his jaw set and eyes ablaze with a mixture of fear and rigid determination.

As the tension in the car mounted, however, the tension in your body seemed to fade. You felt awful for becoming so depleted this early into your labor. You hadn’t even given birth to one of the twins yet, and already you were feeling drained. How could you possibly carry on this way? But all these thoughts quickly disappeared when the weariness became too much.

“Y/N?” Sam looked down at you with furrowed brows. He could feel your body growing limp within his arms.

“Sammy, I don’t feel so good,” you whispered hoarsely. Dean would have thought this was a very normal thing to say during labor, but the change of tone in your voice alerted him to something more.

Sam too, was immediately alert. He scanned your form and noticed two terrifying things right away: first, there was blood on your pants and second, your eyelids seemed to be drooping involuntarily.

“Y/N? Baby, stay with me,” he pleaded as he gave your shoulders a light shake, “Come on, wake up Y/N!” But the darkness was beginning to take over, and you could no longer respond.

“Dean, she’s bleeding,” Sam spoke as an urgent aside, his heart pounding wildly inside his chest.

Dean could tell his brother was beginning to panic, just as he always did when your well-being was on the line, and he knew he needed to remain calm for Sam. “What? OK, just hold on, Y/N/N! We’re almost there.” Dean’s lead foot pushed even harder against the gas pedal.

Behind him, Sam held you tightly in his arms, filling your ears with delicate murmurs of reassurance, desperate for you to wake up. “Come on, baby. You promised me. Just hang on a little longer. You’re gonna be OK.” But even as he said this, he saw more blood seep through your pants. “Dean, drive faster!”

About to tell Sam that he was already going thirty over the speed limit, Dean made the wise decision to shut up and simply put the pedal to the metal, his face a mask of absolute focus.

It was only a matter of minutes, during which you drifted in and out of consciousness, before the Impala screeched to a halt in front of the hospital’s emergency entrance. Dean scrambled out of the car at lightning speed and ran around to open the rear, passenger-side door for you.

Likewise, Sam wasted no time lifting you into his arms and bounding out of the car, practically sprinting towards the reception area. It was an impressive feat of strength, even for Sam, but Dean knew his little brother would have moved mountains for you and those babies if he needed to.

A nurse was there to greet Sam upon his frantic and rather rowdy entrance.

“Help! I need help! My wife’s in labor with our twins, and she passed out on the way here! Her water already broke a-and she’s bleeding!”

The two of you had created fake identities when you decided on a hospital birth, concerned about the chances of complications for delivering twins (and big ones at that), and Sam had never been more grateful for the foresight. He had suggested you go with the credentials of husband and wife to make things easier and ensure the hospital would give him all the privileges of a marital status. Fortunately, despite his hysterical state, Sam hadn’t even hesitated when he called you his wife; the word just seemed to roll off his tongue naturally.

Meanwhile, Dean glanced at his beloved car for a moment, its keys left haphazardly in the ignition. There was a slight grimace on his face as he faltered, considering whether he should go park his Baby in a more legal location or let her get towed and head directly to you and his brother. When he looked back towards the ER and saw your head lolling against Sam’s shoulder, he made his decision. Sam needed him, and Dean would be damned if he didn’t fulfill his lifelong job as the solid and unwavering base of support for his baby brother at this pivotal moment.

“We need a stretcher over here!” The nurse hollered out before turning back to Sam, “OK sir, can you tell me when your wife’s water broke?”

Sam blanched for an instant. He couldn’t focus on anything but your unconscious form. “Um… it was before we left, about, I don’t know-“

“About an hour ago,” Dean supplied as he strode up to his brother’s side. “And we noticed the bleeding around fifteen minutes ago.”

Sam nodded appreciatively, his eyes still wide and frenetic. A stretcher suddenly appeared next to him and he reluctantly laid you down on it, opting to grasp for your hand instead. Dean was busy informing the doctors of your situation, but Sam couldn’t hear any of it.

“OK, let’s go!” a male doctor called out. “Get an OR prepped just in case. Tell them we’ve got a female in active labor with twins, possible placental abruption.”

Trotting alongside your stretcher as the hospital staff pushed you down the hall, one of Sam’s large hands still held on firmly to yours while the other wiped the hair away from your face. “Baby, if you can hear me, please just stay strong, OK? Everything’s gonna be alright. I’m right here. I’ll be here the whole time.”

As if you had heard his prayers, your eyelids began to flutter open. Sam nearly collapsed with relief, but he willed his legs to continue pumping, his eyes never leaving your face. He waited as you tilted your head this way and that, trying to make out your new surroundings.

“S-Sam?” Your voice was still feeble, but Sam had never been happier to hear it.

“Oh, thank god! I’m here, baby, I’m here,” he choked out in a sob.

“Where are we?”

“The hospital. Dean got you here in record time. Everything’s gonna be fine.” He repeated. “Just stay awake for me, OK?”

You tried to nod, but you weren’t sure how well it translated since every muscle in your body felt utterly exhausted.

“She’s regained consciousness. Let’s bring her to the delivery room first.”

As soon as you were wheeled in, an oxygen mask materialized before you, and despite your weak protests was promptly attached to your face. Regardless, you barely got the chance to take a few deep breaths before the contractions began to pick up exactly where they left off.

Yet it seemed like an eternity until the urge to push finally and abruptly overcame your body. You gasped, mouth forming a wide “O”, as you felt your first baby descend swiftly through the birth canal.

“What? What is it?!” Sam inquired hurriedly in trepidation.

“She needs to push,” the doctor answered for you. “Alright Y/N, on your next contraction, I want you to put your chin to your chest and bear down for me as hard as you can, you understand?”

Your answer was a resounding growl as you squeezed your eyes shut and gave your first push of many.

Sam never left your side and he never let go of your hand. He could only marvel at your strength as he tried desperately to provide what little physical and moral support he could. He wanted so badly to kiss you but with the mask in the way, his lips could only settle upon your sweaty forehead.

It took hours, but eventually…

“The baby’s out; it’s a boy! Time of birth - 2:37am.”

Sam was granted only a second to rejoice, his iridescent eyes lighting up at the sight and sound of his firstborn entering the cruel world.

“The mother’s hemorrhaging!” a nurse bellowed and Sam instantly paled, his gaze returning at once to your fatigued figure on the bed.

“We need to get the second baby out now! Call the OR, tell them we’ve got an emergency C-section coming in,” the lead doctor commanded in reply.

Sam watched helplessly as the blood drained from your face and your eyes refused to open yet again. “No, no, no! Please, baby. Please don’t do this to me. Stay with me, Y/N. I need you. Our babies need you!” Sam pleaded for what felt like the hundredth time that day.

“Damn it!” he cursed as the tears began to fall. Sam rose to his full height, his hands balled into tight fists as he pumped them erratically through the air. His imposing form might have frightened some of the nurses if they hadn’t seen the look of horror and anguish that engulfed his features, or witnessed his unequivocal love and devotion to you throughout the labor and delivery process.

Sam forced himself to heave deep breathes as he observed the medical professionals bustling about your room, running a hand through his hair in exasperation. “Where’s my baby? At least tell me my baby is alright?” he demanded in a shaky tone to no one in particular.

“Your son is just fine, sir. They’ve taken him to the NICU to get checked up but from what I saw, he’s a big and healthy baby boy,” one of the nurses provided with a cautious smile.

“My son…” Sam breathed, looking back down at your unconscious form, “Our son… Did you hear that, baby? Oh, god!” He wanted to take you in his arms, to simply will the life back into you, but the doctors were swarming around your bed, poking and prodding at your still swollen abdomen.

“Sir, you need to back up and let the doctors do their job.”

Sam’s chest puffed up on instinct and he was about to retort when Dean, who had been watching in vain from afar, was suddenly there to hold him back. His hands gripped Sam’s biceps from behind and he pulled his brother back with all the strength he could muster, but Sam would not budge. Dean had no choice but to come around to Sam’s front and push against his inflated chest with both hands, while eyeing his little brother with a pointed look that told him to listen to the nurse, that there was nothing he could do right now to help you.

When Sam finally relented, he could no longer hold back his sobs. He had never felt so helpless, so useless. Dean managed to pull him into a waiting room before he broke down completely.

“Hey, you listen to me.” Dean’s ‘big brother voice’ was in full effect, “Your girl in there, is one hell of a fighter. We have seen her go through hell and back both with and for you, literally. And I know you’d do the same for her, Sammy. And so does she, alright? So I know for a fact that Y/N is gonna be fighting with everything she’s got to get back to you and your family. Just like she always does. I mean, hey, she’s practically a Winchester, right? And since when have we ever let death get the best of us?”

At his brother’s last point, Sam’s heart jolted in his chest. You really were practically a Winchester. And he’d loved the way it felt being able to call you his wife and being referred to as your husband in return.

The next hour passed at an agonizingly slow rate, with Sam and Dean fidgeting silently in their seats through most it.

“Mr. Windsor?” When the doctor got no response, he tried again, “Family of Y/N Windsor?”

At the sound of your name, Sam vaulted off his chair, realizing he’d nearly missed his calling. Hurtling towards the doctor, Sam almost miscalculated his braking distance. “I’m here! That’s me, I’m her husband!” he burst forth breathlessly.

“Well I’m here to tell you Y/N’s out of surgery. The C-section was a success, and she should be waking up shortly. Oh and congratulations, you have another son.”

“Wait, so she and the babies are OK?” Dean checked from his spot behind Sam.

“Yes, we have no reason to believe she or either of the babies are in any further danger.”

Sam released the largest breath known to mankind. “C-can I see her? Can I see them?”

The doctor sent him a smile and a nod before giving them your room number. Sam was off like a bullet with Dean hot behind his heels, but when they reached your door, the older Winchester elected to stay back a little, wanting to permit your new family some time alone first.

You were just coming to your senses when Sam walked in. Adjusting your bed to a seated position, you looked up to find him staring at you, “Sam?”

“Oh, thank fuck,” he exhaled before falling to his knees at your bedside. “You scared the shit out of me, baby. Please don’t ever do that again.” Sam buried his head in your thigh, so you ran your fingers lovingly through his soft chestnut locks, allowing him a moment of reprieve.

When he raised his head to face you, his eyes were red and cheeks stained with tears. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

You gave him a confused look, “What do you mean? Are the babies OK?”

“Yeah, they’re fine but the doctor said your complications were most likely the result of previous injuries and the fact that you were carrying big babies.”

You huffed a gentle sigh, “Baby, we both knew there was a higher risk associated with a multiple pregnancy. And of course my hunter background wouldn’t be any help. But how is any of that your fault?”

Sam didn’t respond with words; he merely fixed his watery puppy dog gaze upon yours, which just about caused you to break down with him, but you had promised yourself to always denounce this type of behavior. “Sammy, how many times do I have to tell you? I never wanna hear you apologizing for things you can’t control. And I especially never wanna hear you apologize for any part of who you are, because I am so completely and irrevocably in love with that person that it hurts me just the same, do you understand?”

Sam nodded and you wiped the tears from his cheekbones, beckoning him to stand back up, though his head was still pointed down.

“Hey, I’m OK, alright?” You grabbed his hand, waiting until his shoulders visibly relaxed before adding impatiently, “Now when do I get to see my babies? Please tell me I can see them now.”

“Y-yeah, lemme go bring them over.”

You nodded enthusiastically, feeling a surge of energy flow back into your body at the thought of finally meeting your twins. So when Sam returned, wheeling two hospital cribs through the door, you were virtually bouncing with anticipation.

“You were right, baby.” Sam shot you a handsome little smirk.

“What?”

“We’ve got two boys.”

“Really?” You gasped, the emotions finally catching up with you after all the hardships you’d faced in the past twenty-four hours.

“What? No ‘I told you so’?” Sam teased lightly.

But you were much too in awe for that. “No, just… gimme,” you pouted, holding your arms out expectantly.

“You sure?”

“Sam, if you don’t hand me at least one of my babies right now, I swear to Chuck-“

“Alright, alright, no need to bring God into this,” Sam chuckled, sliding your firstborn carefully into your eager and waiting arms.

“Oh my god, he’s perfect.”

“Yeah? So is this little guy,” Sam had picked up the other infant and was beaming fondly down at him.

You spared a glance at them and giggled at the sight.

“What?”

“Nothing, just… he looks so small in your arms.”

Sam’s entire being exuded radiance, “So what are we gonna name them?”

It wasn’t long before you called for Dean and he strolled somewhat nervously into your room.

Cradling his eldest son in his arms, Sam sent his brother a warm and proud smile, “Dean, we’d like you to meet Robert John and…”

“Lucas Dean Winchester,” you finished, gesturing to the baby boy in your arms. “Well, Luke and Robbie for short.”

Dean’s emerald eyes grew wide and a little wet. He looked back and forth between you and Sam as if to confirm what he had heard was true.

You smiled at him, nodding. “You’ve always meant the world to Sam, and if I’m honest, you mean the world to me too. And I am beyond certain that these boys will grow to love you no less than either of us. Besides, none of us would be here if it weren’t for you.”

Dean was quiet for a moment, and you knew he needed to process his emotions.

“That’s awesome,” he said, though you knew he meant ‘thank you’.

“You wanna hold them?” Sam asked, grinning from ear to ear.

Dean grinned back, then looked toward you.

You held back a laugh, “You wanna start with your namesake, don’t you?”

“Hell yeah!” Sam shot him a mini bitch face, “Sorry, I-I mean, heck yeah!”

Snorting, you carefully handed Dean the bundle of blankets in which Lucas Dean was wrapped.

“There’s just one more thing I wanna say,” Sam’s voice brought your attention back to him.

You gave him a curious look and he seemed to almost blush under your gaze, which only confused you further.

“Y/N, I never thought I’d get to have all this, but you’ve made me so unbelievably happy, and I know it shouldn’t matter, but there’s been something ruminating in the back of my mind ever since we got to the hospital- no, actually ever since we made those fake IDs.”

Now you were really lost, eyeing him perplexedly. You looked over to Dean for some help, but he seemed not in the least bit surprised. In fact, he appeared to be perfectly content, paying zero attention to you and his brother and cooing happily at baby Luke as he bounced him in his arms.

“Baby,” Sam continued, “I know you’ve never really wanted or cared about this, and I know we can never make it a hundred percent official, but- Y/N, will you marry me?”

It was a good thing you were no longer holding any babies, because Sam’s question took you completely off guard.

“W-what?” you stammered, staring at him with large eyes.

Sam chuckled and looked down at Robbie, “I think your mom heard me just fine, don’t you, buddy?”

Your mouth stayed open for some time as you tried to absorb it all.

“Any time now, Y/N. Any time,” Dean interrupted without glancing up from Luke.

“Y-yes!” You finally replied.

“Really?” Sam asked again.

“Yeah! Obviously! I mean, who else would I marry but my incredible, brilliant, tall, and gorgeous baby daddy?”

At this point, Sam had passed Dean his oldest son, helping him balance both babies in his arms, before rushing back over to you. He took your face in both hands and kissed you like it was the first and last time. You leaned up to reach him and run your fingers through his shimmering tresses but you refrained from taking the kiss too far, figuring you’d save Dean the torture given all he had just done for your family.

“Well, alright! Two Winchesters coming in, and five going out. Nice work, Sammy!”

You released Sam and sent Dean a bitch face of your own.

“But- I mean, none of this would have been possible without you, Y/N/N,” he quickly amended, “I mean, who could forget that you nearly died bringing these two to the world? What’s that, the third time you’ve cheated Death now? That alone is enough to make you an official Winchester in my books.”

“Well, technically we’re all Windsors in this hospital.”

A/N #2: thank you for reading! ...i’m thinking of turning this into a series of sorts, like a collection of stories about sam and reader’s lives after the twins (because i’ve got iDeAs brewing), would anyone be interested? ❤️ also, here’s a look at some new stuff at lexicolor.redbubble.com:

tagging some peeps who seemed to enjoy part 1 :) @carryonmywaywardbucky @girl-next-door-writes​ @sams-sass​ @swiftlymoniquesblog @austin-winchester67 @idreamofhazel @hoboal87 

[suicidalslasher]

𝒋𝒆𝒂𝒍𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒚 - 𝒋𝒂𝒔𝒐𝒏 𝒅.

the one where Jason is a jealous  dumbass,  that’s it -  that’s the plot.

WARNINGS: This is a Jason Dean fanfiction, therefore, you all know what you’re signing up for. I don’t really got to tell you, twice. 

  Possessive!Jason. Jealous!Jason. Female reader, reader’s pronouns are she/her. 

Slight mention and scene of choking but it’s not graphic. A hint of NSFW but it isn’t shown. Also there’s a few mentions of blood but it’s not a lot, either. I wanted to tag that nonetheless, too. Also, Jason actually shows emotions in this which is out of character but in MY world, Jason Dean is a simp to his girlfriend and would rather die than to live a day without her. 

I may add the smut scene later on, who knows?  Not me. This is my first imagine of Jason Dean so be nice to me or I’ll be like Ghostface and gut you like a fish (◍•ᴗ•◍)♡ ✧*  

If you enjoyed this story, don’t hesitate to follow and or leave me a request, as they are open. If you also like my work and or have a dollar to  spare, as it will help me write and create more stories like this one, my ko-fi is here. 

Thank you and enjoy :)

White knuckles from clenching his fists too hard, and gritted teeth from effort to remain silent, Jason bit back his words, knowing they'd be harsh and full of  poison.  He's fully aware of how much damage he'd likely cause if he spit out the words that were on his mind.  He was going to break, and he knew it wasn't going to take too long until he did so.   Yet, as the female continued to talk beside him as an attempt to grab his attention, the feelings only grew larger and he dug his teeth into his bottom lip, the metallic taste of blood trickling on the tip of his tongue.   Jason swallowed that anger when it was nothing but a fire-seed and he had forgotten to drink something cold right after, in an effort to calm himself down;   therefore, it grew in his stomach until it came out hotter than any dragon breath.... all those negative emotions that swam in his veins  and crept in the pit of his stomach exploded and all the feelings he desperately was trying to hold back came burning on the one person he loved the most, his girlfriend, (Y/N). His face was red with suppressed rage and when (Y/N)  set her finger on his shoulder, he swung around and mentally snapped, his nostrils flared  and his pupils were blown and dilated  as he snarled like an  out of control beast.  "I hate him more than I do the Heathers," spat Jason,  as he pushes his girlfriend up against the wall, the framed photograph that hung there now remained at the bottom of their feet, shattered into hundreds of pieces.   "I don't like you hanging out with him." Jason growled, his fingers curling around (Y/N)'s throat, feeling her pulse begin to quicken  as he presses his weight down onto the palm of his hand.  "Do you know how much it hurts to see you look at someone else? To see you smile at someone else? It makes me feel sick.”     "Jason... Let go of me. Let's talk. Please? You don't even know him... if you'll let me speak and tell you-"  "You love him, don't you?" Jason hisses, the sentence feeling like a slap to (Y/N)'s face as he throws out this statement.... it was a lie, that's what it was and (Y/N) desperately was trying to tell him how wrong he was but he just wouldn't listen, the arrogant  son of a bitch never listens!    "You love him more than you do me."  Before either teen realizes it, Jason is letting go of (Y/N)'s throat only for him to raise his hand up  into a fist and he's punching the only other framed photograph that was beside her, the glass shattering behind his knuckles. (Y/N) screams in horror and although she's pissed off, she - obviously - still cares about her boyfriend.  "Jason!" (Y/N) yelps, tears falling down her cheeks as she rushes to her boyfriend's side, examining his hand which was now dripping with crimson, a few drops of red landing on the now broken picture frame and the wooden floor beneath their feet. "C'mon, I've got a first aid kit around here, somewhere-" "You love him." Jason repeats, ignoring the fact she was trying to help him.  He pulls his hand back, dropping his arm by his side, not  even caring about the way the blood was falling from his knuckles and staining both his pants and shirt. The anger and venom that once coated his words were now replaced with a hint of sadness and heartbreak.  She's never seen him this upset before.... regardless, if he'd just calm down, she could explain.  "Jason, baby-" His voice broke as he looked up at (Y/N), sad eyes meeting with her confused but angry gaze. On top of those, she was sad, too.   "Go then. Go to him, if you prefer to spend your day with him rather than your own boyfriend. You don't care about me, I'm not sure you ever did."  (Y/N) sighed, shaking her head as a few more tears spill past her cheeks. "Fine. If you won't let me talk and tell you my side of the story, I'm leaving. If that's what you think and if you truly think I don't give a fuck about you, I'm gone." (Y/N) mutters, letting go of his hand as she walks back over to the door, grabbing her keys and wallet before storming out the door, slamming the door shut as she leaves.

A week passes. 

Another week following behind that.  

(Y/N) didn't bother to call or show up.

He really fucked things up, didn't he? 

Jason wasn't huge on  showcasing his feelings and putting them out on display for people to see. The only emotion he was so used to showing was anger and madness. Nothing but chaos was built and stored away in Jason Dean's body, too.  All three traits made him who he was.  People may not like him because of his temper and all the flaws he had but it was him, and he didn't plan on changing for anybody.  Expect.... of course, (Y/N). As he sat alone in his bedroom, he felt depressed. He never cried, either.  Couldn't tell you the last time he ever did cry. Did he even cry as a baby? Jason wasn't sure, nor could he tell you.  

But.... Jason cried. For the first time in forever, he broke down and cried. Couldn't help himself.  By the end of the night, there were no tears left to cry. He had run dry. His body couldn't form any more tears.   Feeling both mentally and physically drained, Jason reached over and grabbed his phone off of the night stand, dialing the one number he actually had memorized.  All he got was her voicemail.   "This is (Y/N). I can't answer the phone at the moment but  I will get back to you as soon as I can! Bye!"  Jason groaned and he was half-tempted to throw the phone out of his window but he decided against it as he left a voicemail, regardless. He wanted (Y/N) to know he was sorry. 

He wanted (Y/N) to know that despite their arguments (which weren't constant but when they did fight, it was mainly due to Jason's behavior rather than her own) he loves her.  

 (Y/N) coming into his life was the only good thing the world had offered and gave him. He wasn't going to give her up. Not that easily, anyways.  "Hey." He had forgotten he was leaving a voicemail, having zoned out for a second, the beep brought him back out of his thoughts.  "It's me. Uh.... Jason.... your boyfriend? I hope so, anyway, still.... But, yeah, it's Jason.... Jason Dean.... ha, uh.... you knew that.

  Listen, I'm sorry for everything,  (Y/N).  I'm sorry for having that temper tantrum and taking out my frustration and jealousy on you. I'm not good at this type of stuff, not so great with showing my emotions in person either, so....

 I'll talk here,  hopefully the message goes all the way through. I don't want to say this in person, again, I'm not good at the whole unraveling my feelings, especially not face to face.

 But... (Y/N), baby, you're the best thing that's ever been mine. You're my darlin', my girl, and I got jealous because I was scared, okay? 

I was scared of losing you. And I'm telling you this because it's been awhile now and I haven't seen you around or heard from you in awhile. Therefore, I may have already lost you but.... I love you, (Y/N)... and I'm sorry, okay? 

Thought you'd never hear me say that, huh? Me, apologizing? That's like... once in a blue moon. Hah.....  

But, uh... well, it's true. I'm sorry and I, Jason Dean, love you, (Y/N) (L/N). And I hope that you still love me too."   With that, Jason ends the call, hanging the phone back up on the table as he falls back onto the bed. He didn't - doesn't - know what to do if he didn't have (Y/N) by his side.   Trying to ignore these thoughts and place his attention elsewhere, he decides he needs to focus on sleeping. His body was exhausted after all that crying, plus the punch to the picture frame was still making his hand ache and throb, despite it being a few weeks since he had done it. 

He had one hell of a nasty bruise, too. He was sure it wouldn't look so ugly and scarred if he  had listened to (Y/N) and taken her up on that offer when she suggested the first aid kit...  Before he knows it, he's drifting off into a deep slumber, naturally bringing a pillow into his chest, tucking it underneath his arm as he falls asleep.   

Faint whispers of (Y/N)'s name spills pass his lips as he sleeps. He'd rather be cuddling her than a pillow but he'll take what he can get. He just hopes she'll accept his apology.  

(Y/N) gets home a little after midnight, sighing heavily and tiredly as she kicks off her shoes and strips out of her jacket, hanging the coat up first before setting her shoes under the rack. She had just finished unpacking and helping her cousin move things in his new apartment and she was exhausted. All she wanted to do was take a shower and go to bed. 

 In the corner of her eye, however, she notices her answering machine is flashing red, letting her know someone had left a voicemail.  She walks over and clicks on the button, expecting it to be for  her parents but instead she's met with a shocking fate - it was Jason.  

Hearing his voice, so weak and vulnerable, brought tears to her eyes and she bit back a sob. Especially when he apologized, that was new. 

They've said those three words to each other before, of course, but it was hearing how sad he sounded that let her know he truly did love her, despite everything they've been through and all the silly arguments they've shared over the past few months; they loved each other. 

 And nothing - nobody - could ever stand in the way of that.   Jason was still a huge dumbass, however. 

And as she grabs her jacket, sliding the thick layer of clothing around herself and dips her feet into her boots, she's quick to go and tell him that, too.  

She loves him, yes, but she needs to let him know he was a  huge fucking idiot. 

Jason, for the most post, was sleeping peacefully until he heard a loud crash coming from downstairs, along with a string of curse words. 

  He was quick to get up, throwing the blanket and pillow aside as he opened his bedroom door and creeps down the hallway, wondering who the hell was in his living room.   

He was met with.... well, not a burglar  neither his father as he would have guessed the next outcome to be but rather his girlfriend.

"(Y/N)? What are you doing here?" He asks, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands as he tried to shake off the remaining sleep that had taken over him not even a few hours ago. 

"I came here to scare you, obviously." She scoffs, rolling her eyes as she scrambles up and off of the floor, brushing her knees and arms from the fall she had taken.  "Your door was locked, couldn't find the extra key anywhere so I snuck in through the window and-"

"And... you're bleeding." Jason said, gesturing to the tiny gash on her arm.   "C'mon, I've got a first aid kit around here somewhere." He mocks, giving her a playful smile as he quoted the words she had said to him the day they got into that fight. 

 (Y/N) said nothing but she follows when Jason offers his hand out to her, anyway.   He was surprised when he did find the small box up in a cabinet.   

"It's fine. I'm fine. Nothing  a bandage won't fix, right?" 

"(Y/N). Why are you here? You never did answer me." Jason said, getting out the tiny box of band-aids, ripping one open as he presses the item down onto her arm. She was right, it wasn't a big cut, a few drops of blood, sure, but it wasn't one that'd get infected.  

"I got your voice message." She said with a shrug of her shoulders. "And I came to talk to you about it."

He wasn't sure whether or not that was a good or bad thing.

 "Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah. You're a dumbass." 

Oh. 

 It was bad. 

He felt his heart drop down to his stomach. He really let his jealousy get the best of him and now he was going to lose the one good thing he had in his life. 

"I love you but you didn't let me speak," She continued.  "That guy you saw... first of all, you have no right to judge him or say you hate him when you have no idea who he is. That dude I was seen with was my cousin, who, may I add, is gay.” 

“I’ve been helping him move which is why you saw me in town with him. We were getting a few supplies and picking up his furniture.” She continues.

“You got jealous over a guy who is far from being attracted to  females. And you know... he's related to me as well, so, that also plays a huge part in it. And if you didn't notice either, the picture you broke was actually a portrait of my family and his together at a family reunion. Of course, you didn't see that, though or probably even noticed but.... yeah, you're a dumbass. I love you, J.D, but you're an idiot for thinking I'd ever love someone more than I love you." 

Jason says nothing, he feels embarrassed, ashamed, but overall; he feels happy, knowing she still loves him, even if he was a total moron.  "I'm sorry, baby, I got jealous and I shouldn't jump so quickly to conclusions  and-"

"And you need to make up for it." She said, pressing her chest up against his, resting her hand on the palm of his cheek, brushing a few stray hairs out from his face as she gives him a seductive look. "And how.... exactly, are you going to make up for it, baby?" She purred. 

"I think I've an idea." He said with a smirk.

"Oh, yeah? While you're at it, can you choke me like you did, too?" 

"I'll do more than just choke you with my hand, darling." 

"To be suffocated and to choke on either your cock and hand would be a blessing, my dear." 

"Then let's go upstairs, shall we?"

(Y/N) smiled and took Jason's hand with her own, giggling as if she wasn't just talking about getting choked by her boyfriend, as if she was some saint rather than a sinner. Fuck... Jason loves how dirty she was. "We shall." He replies, nearly dragging her up the stairs and into his bedroom. 

"Going to show you how much I love you, going to treat you so good, so well, baby girl... missed you so much, love you so much..." 

[keijislove]

Entranced: Ron Weasley X Reader

"I played like a sack of dragon dung," said Ron in a hollow voice when

the changing room door had swung shut behind Ginny.

You had just had Quidditch practice and you, being one of the best Chasers, tried your best not to tell Ron that you’d given him the easiest serves of all

"No, you didn't," you said firmly.

"You're the best Keeper I tried out, Ron. Your only problem is nerves." Harry added.

You both kept up a relentless flow of encouragement all the way back to the castle, and by the time you reached the second floor, Ron was looking marginally more cheerful. When Harry pushed open the tapestry to take their usual shortcut up to Gryffindor Tower, however, they found themselves looking at Dean and Ginny, who were locked in a close embrace and kissing fiercely as though glued together.

You covered your mouth to supress a giggle as Harry’s features set into a scowl of the deepest loathing.

Ron, looking fairly affronted as well, spoke first.

"Oi!"

Dean and Ginny broke apart and looked around. "What?" said Ginny.

"I don't want to find my own sister snogging people in public!"

"This was a deserted corridor till you came butting in!" said Ginny.

Dean was looking embarrassed. He gave Harry a shifty grin that Harry did not return.

"Er . . . c'mon, Ginny," said Dean, "let's go back to the common room. ..."

"You go!" said Ginny. "I want a word with my dear brother!" Dean left, looking as though he was not sorry to depart the scene.

"Right," said Ginny, tossing her long red hair out of her face and glaring at Ron, "let's get this straight once and for all. It is none of your business who I go out with or what I do with them, Ron --"

"Yeah, it is!" said Ron, just as angrily. "D' you think I want people saying my sister's a --"

"A what?" shouted Ginny, drawing her wand. "A what, exactly?"

"He doesn't mean anything, Ginny --" you coaxingly began.

"Oh yes he does!" she said, flaring up at you. "Just because he's never snogged anyone in his life, just because the best kiss he's ever had is from our Auntie Muriel --"

"Shut your mouth!" bellowed Ron, bypassing red and turning maroon.

"No, I will not!" yelled Ginny, beside herself. "I've seen you with Phlegm, hoping she'll kiss you on the cheek every time you see her, it's pathetic! If you went out and got a bit of snogging done yourself, you wouldn't mind so much that everyone else does it!"

  Ron had pulled out his wand too; Harry stepped swiftly between them.

"You don't know what you're talking about!" Ron roared, trying to get a clear shot at Ginny around Harry, who was now standing in front of her with his arms outstretched. "Just because I don't do it in public --!"

Ginny screamed with derisive laughter, trying to push Harry out of the way. “Been kissing Pigwidgeon, have you? Or have you got a picture of Auntie Muriel stashed under your pillow?" You –"

A streak of orange light flew under Harrys left arm and missed Ginny by inches; Harry pushed Ron up against the wall.

"Don't be stupid --"

"Harry's snogged Cho Chang!" shouted Ginny, who sounded close to tears now. "Hermione snogged Viktor Krum! Heck, even Y/N’s nogged Cedric probably once, it's only you who acts like it's something disgusting, Ron, and that's because you've got about as much experience as a twelve-year-old!"

“Hey, you’ve got no business talking to him like that!” you were very red in the face indeed.

“Oh, save it.” Ginny snarled, “You’re just embarrassed I told Ron you snogged Cedric.”

“I didn’t snog him-”

“I’m sorry Y/N, as much of a great friend and elder-sister vibes you have given me... he needs to know.”

And with that, she stormed away. Harry quickly let go of Ron; the look on his face was murderous. They both stood there, breathing heavily, until Mrs. Norris, Filch’s cat, appeared around the corner, which broke the tension.

"C'mon," said Harry, as the sound of Filch's shuffling feet reached their ears.

They hurried up the stairs and along a seventh-floor corridor. "Oi, out of the way!" Ron barked at a small girl who jumped in fright and dropped a bottle of toadspawn.

You hardly noticed the sound of shattering glass; you felt disoriented, dizzy; being struck by a lightning bolt must be something like this. You saw Ron ripping open the tapestry curtain and drawing his wand on Harry, shouting things like "betrayal of trust" . . . "supposed to be my friend" . . .

"Did you really snog Diggory?" Ron asked abruptly, as you approached the Fat Lady.

You turned around, “Excuse me?”

"Dilligrout," Ron said darkly to the Fat Lady, and they climbed through the portrait hole into the common room.

“I hardly think that’s any of your business, Ronald.” You coldly said.

“Oh, please.” The redhead sneered before trudging upstairs to his dormitory.

--------

Ron had been awful to you since the past few days. He’d try his best to ignore you and even slip in a few snarky comments about you, something which was very un-Ron-like.

You had become so tired of Ron's recent unpleasant behaviour that you had not come down to breakfast with him and Harry since, instead choosing to go with Hermione.

She had initially questioned you, but a few snaps and choked sobs later, she left it and just consolingly rubbed your back as you silently thanked her every night.

She paused on her way up the table.

"How are you both feeling?" she asked tentatively, her eyes on the back of Ron's head.

"I dont know what you're talking about," said Harry, stowing the little bottle hastily in his pocket.

“Thanks.” You gave a weary smile. You felt really bad ignoring Harry, but your pride had gotten on the way tremendously.

“She doesn’t need it.” Ron whispered loud enough for you to hear, “I ‘spose Diggory had already said that a hundred times.”

You were about to open your mouth, but someone interrupted.

"Nearly time.” said Harry blithely.

"Fishy, isn't it?" he said in an undertone to Ron. "Malfoy not playing?"

------------

You, Ron and Harry were the last two in the changing room. You were just about to leave when Hermione entered. She was twisting her Gryffindor scarf in her hands and looked upset but determined. "I want a word with you, Harry." She took a deep breath. "You shouldn't have done it. You heard Slughorn, its illegal."

"What are you going to do, turn us in?" demanded Ron.

"What are you two talking about?" asked Harry.

"You know perfectly well what we're talking about!" said Hermione shrilly. "You spiked Ron’s juice with lucky potion at breakfast! Felix Felicis!"

"No, I didn't," said Harry, turning back to face them both.

"Yes, you did, Harry, and that's why everything went right, there were Slytherin players missing and Ron saved everything!"

"I didn't put it in!" said Harry, grinning broadly. He slipped his hand inside his jacket pocket and drew out the tiny bottle that Hermione had seen in his hand that morning. It was full of golden potion and the cork was still tightly sealed with wax. "I wanted Ron to think I'd done it, so I faked it when I knew you were looking." He looked at Ron. "You saved everything because you felt lucky. You did it all yourself."

He pocketed the potion again.

"There really wasn't anything in my pumpkin juice?" Ron said, astounded. "But the weather's good. . . and Vaisey couldn't play. ... I honestly haven't been given lucky potion?"

Harry shook his head. Ron gaped at him for a moment, then rounded on Hermione, imitating her voice. "You added Felix Felicis to Ron's juice this morning, that's why he saved everything! See! I can save goals without help, Hermione! Y/N’s bad enough as it is, I don’t need you making my life miserable as well."

You inhaled sharply as Harry guiltily sent you what looked like a consoling stare. You shook your head, trying your best not to scream at Ron.

"I never said you couldn't -- Ron, you thought you'd been given it too!" said Hermione.

But Ron had already strode past her out of the door with his broomstick over his shoulder.

"Er," said Harry into the sudden silence; he had not expected his plan to backfire like this, "shall. . . shall we go up to the party, then?"

"You go!" said Hermione, blinking back tears. "I'm sick of Ron at the moment, I don't know what I'm supposed to have done. . . ."

And she stormed out of the changing room too.

Which left you and Harry.

You refused to look at him and when he cleared his throat, you wanted to run, screaming.

“Y/N.” he began, “Is there... something I don’t know about?”

“Like what?”

“Like what the hell is going on between you and Ron?”

Harry instantly regretted saying this, as your lip trembled and you glared at him straight in the eye before coldly snapping, “If you haven’t noticed... Ronald has a problem of not knowing the fine line between being upset with someone and being nasty to them. I’m surprised how his broomstick can fly with that fat head on it.

When you arrived, the Gryffindor celebration party, which as in full swing. Renewed cheers and clapping greeted your appearance, and he was soon surrounded by a mob of people congratulating you. What with trying to shake off the Creevey brothers, who wanted a blow-by-blow match analysis, and the large group of girls that encircled Harry, laughing at his least amusing comments and batting their eyelids, it was some time before you could escape.

As you moved, you walked straight into Ginny, Arnold the Pygmy Puff riding on her shoulder and Crookshanks mewing hopefully at her heels.

"Looking for Ron?" she asked, smirking. "He's over there, the filthy hypocrite.”

You looked into the corner she was indicating. There, in full view of the whole room, stood Ron wrapped so closely around Lavender Brown it was hard to tell whose hands were whose.

"It looks like he's eating her face, doesn't it?" said Ginny dispassionately. "But I suppose he's got to refine his technique somehow. Good game, Y/N."

She patted you on the arm; you felt as if you had forgotten how to breathe, trying not to choke on your spit too severely from the amount of effort it took you not to cry.

You quickly turned away from Ron, who did not look like he would be surfacing soon, and darted out the door out of sight.

---------

"Y/N?" Harry’s voice called five minutes later.

He found her in the first unlocked classroom he tried. You were sitting on the teacher's desk, next to Hermione, who had a small ring of twittering yellow birds circling her head, which she had clearly just conjured out of midair.

"Oh, hello, Harry," she said in a brittle voice. "I was just practicing."

"Yeah . . . they're -- er -- really good. ..." said Harry. “Listen, Y/N...”

He had no idea what to say to you. He was just wondering whether there was any chance that you had not noticed Ron, that you had merely left the room because the party was a little too rowdy, when you said, in an unnaturally high-pitched voice, "Ron seems to be enjoying the celebrations."

"Er . . . does he?" said Harry.

"Don't pretend you didn't see him," said Hermione. "He wasn't exactly hiding it, was -- ?"

The door behind them burst open. To Harry's horror, Ron came in, laughing, pulling Lavender by the hand.

"Oh," he said, drawing up short at the sight of Harry, you and Hermione.

"Oops!" said Lavender, and she backed out of the room, giggling. The door swung shut behind her. There was a horrible, swelling, billowing silence. Hermione was staring at Ron in disapproval and anger, who refused to look at her and the H/C girl, but said with an odd mixture of bravado and awkwardness, "Hi, Harry! Wondered where you'd got to!"

Hermione slid off the desk. The little flock of golden birds continued to twitter in circles around her head so that she looked like a strange, feathery model of the solar system.

"You shouldn't leave Lavender waiting outside," she said quietly. "She'll wonder where you've gone."

She walked very slowly and erectly toward the door. Harry glanced at Ron, who was looking relieved that nothing worse had happened.

"Oppugno!" came a shriek from the doorway.

You spun around to see Hermione pointing her wand at Ron, her expression wild: The little flock of birds was speeding like a hail of fat golden bullets toward Ron, who yelped and covered his face with his hands, but the birds attacked, pecking and clawing at every bit of flesh they could reach, and you were not sorry for him in the least.

"Gerremoffme!" he yelled, but with one last look of vindictive fury, Hermione wrenched open the door and pulled you along, before you disappeared through it, choking on a sob.

----------

'Want one?” said Ron thickly, holding out a box of Chocolate Cauldrons.

It was his birthday, and no matter how angry you were, you dropped by to say an awkward hello.

“Suit yourself,” said Ron, stuffing a second Cauldron into his mouth as he slid out of bed to get dressed. 'Come on Harry. If you don't hurry up, you'll have to Apparate on an empty-stomach ... might make it easier, I suppose ..."

Ron looked thoughtfully at the box of Chocolate Cauldrons, then shrugged and helped himself to a third.

Harry tapped the map with his wand, muttered, 'Mischief managed,”

'Ready?' he said to Ron.

“Excuse me.” You quietly said to make them aware of your presence, “We’re going to be late.”

You and Harry were halfway to the dormitory door when you realised that Ron had not moved, but was leaning on his bedpost, staring out of the rain-washed window with a strangely un-focused look on his face.

'Ron? Breakfast.'

“I'm not hungry,”

You stared ai him. “I thought you just said -?”

“-Well, all right, I'll come down with you,' sighed Ron, 'but I don't want to eat.'

  You scrutinised him suspiciously.

'You've just eaten half a box of Chocolate Cauldrons, haven't you?'

'It's not that,' Ron sighed again. 'You ... you wouldn't understand.'

'Fair enough,' said Harry, albeit puzzled, as he turned to open the door.

'Harry!' said Ron suddenly.

'What?'

'Harry, I can't stand it!'

'You can't stand what?' asked Harry; you were now starting to feel definitely alarmed. Ron was rather pale and looked as though he was about to be sick.

'I can't stop thinking about her!' said Ron hoarsely.

You gaped at him. You had not expected this and were not sure you wanted to hear it. ‘Friends’ you might be, but if Ron started calling Lavender 'Lav- Lav', you would have to put your foot down.

'Why does that stop you having breakfast?' Harry asked, trying to inject a note of common sense into the proceedings.

'I don't think she knows I exist,' said Ron with a desperate gesture.

'She definitely knows you exist,' you said angrily. 'She keeps snogging you, doesn't she?'

Ron blinked.

'Who are you talking about?'

Who are you talking about?' said you and Harry together, with an increasing sense that all

reason had dropped out of the conversation.

'Romilda Vane,' said Ron softly, and his whole face seemed to illuminate as he said it, as though hit by a ray of purest sunlight. You stared at each other for almost a whole minute, before Harry said, 'This is a joke, right? You're joking.'

Think ... Harry, I think I love her,' said Ron in a strangled voice.

'OK,' you said, walking up to Ron to get a better look at the glazed eyes and the pallid complexion, 'OK ... say that again with a straight face.'

'I love her,' repeated Ron breathlessly. 'Have you seen her hair, it's all black and shiny and silky ... and her eyes? Her big dark eyes? And her -'

'This is really funny and everything,' said Harry impatiently, 'but joke's over, all right? Drop it.'

He turned to leave; he had got two steps towards the door when a crashing blow hit him on the right ear. Staggering, he looked round. Ron's fist was drawn right back, his face was contorted with rage; he was about to strike again.

  Harry reacted instinctively; his wand was out of his pocket and the incantation sprang to mind without conscious thought: Levicorpus!

Ron yelled as his heel was wrenched upwards once more; he dangled helplessly, upside-down, his robes hanging off him.

'What was that for?' you bellowed.

'He insulted her! He said it was a joke!' shouted Ron, who was slowly turning purple in the face as all the blood rushed to his head.

'This is insane!' said Harry. 'What's got into -?'

And then he saw the box lying open on Ron's bed and the truth hit him with the force of a stampeding troll.

'Where did you get those Chocolate Cauldrons?'

'They were a birthday present!' shouted Ron, revolving slowly in midair as he struggled to get free. ‘I offered you one, didn't I?'

'You just picked them up off the floor, didn't you?'

'They'd fallen off my bed, all right? Let me go!'

'They didn't fall off your bed, you prat, don't you understand? They were mine, I chucked them out of my trunk when I was looking for the map. They're the Chocolate Cauldrons Romilda gave me before Christmas and they're all spiked with love potion!'

You gave an outraged cry at this information.

But only one word of this seemed to have registered with Ron.

‘Romilda?' he repeated. 'Did you say Romilda? Harry - do you know her? Can you introduce me?'

Harry stared at the dangling Ron, whose face now looked tremendously hopeful, and fought a strong desire to laugh... Y/N thought that he would deserve another punching if he permitted Ron to declare undying love for Romilda Vane.

'Yeah, I'll introduce you,' said Harry, thinking fast. 'I'm going to let you down now, OK?'

He sent Ron crashing back to the floor (his ear did hurt quite a lot), but

Ron simply bounded to his feet again, grinning.

'She'll be in Slughorn's office.’ said Harry confidently, leading the way to the door.

'Why will she be in there?' asked Ron anxiously, hurrying to keep up.

'Oh, she has extra Potions lessons with him,' you said, inventing wildly.

'Maybe I could ask if I can have them with her?' said Ron eagerly.

'Great idea,' said Harry. Lavender was waiting beside the portrait hole, a complication both you and Harry had not foreseen.

  'You're late, Won-Won!' she pouted. 'I've got you a birth-day-'

'Leave me alone,' said Ron impatiently, 'Harry's going to introduce me to Romilda Vane.'

And without another word to her, he pushed his way out of the portrait hole. Harry tried to make an apologetic face to Lavender, but it might have turned out simply amused, because she looked more offended than ever as the Fat Lady swung shut behind them.

You had been slightly worried that Slughorn might be at breakfast, but he answered his office door at the first knock, wearing a green velvet dressing-gown and matching nightcap and looking rather bleary-eyed.

'Harry, Y/N.' he mumbled. 'This is very early for a call ... I generally sleep late on a Saturday ..."

'Professor, I'm really sorry to disturb you,' said Harry as quietly as possible, while Ron stood on tiptoe, attempting to see past Slughorn into his room, 'but my friend Ron's swallowed a love potion by mistake. You couldn't make him an antidote, could you? I'd take him to Madam Pomfrey, but we're not supposed to have anything from Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes and, you know ... awkward questions ...'

‘I’d have thought you could have whipped him up a remedy, Harry, an expert potioneer like you?' asked Slughorn.

'Er,' said Harry, somewhat distracted by the fact that Ron was now elbowing him in the ribs in an attempt to force his way into the room, and Y/N held him firmly back, 'well, I've never mixed an antidote for a love potion, sir, and by the time I get it right Ron might've done something serious -'

Helpfully, Ron chose this moment to moan, 'I can't see her. Harry - is he hiding her?'

'Was this potion within date?' asked Slughorn, now eyeing Ron with professional interest. 'They can strengthen, you know, the longer they're kept.'

That would explain a lot,' panted Harry, now positively wrestling with Ron to keep him from knocking Slughorn over.

'It's his birthday, Professor,' you added imploringly.

'Oh, all right, come in, then, come in,' said Slughorn, relenting. 'I've got the necessary here in my bag, it's not a difficult antidote ...'

Ron burst through the door into Slughorn's overheated, crowded study, tripped over a tasselled footstool, regained his balance by seizing Harry around the neck and muttered, 'She didn't see that, did she?'

'She's not here yet,' said Harry, watching Slughorn opening his potion kit and adding a few pinches of this and that to a small crystal bottle.

That's good,' said Ron fervently. 'How do I look?'

'Very handsome,' said Slughorn smoothly.

‘It can never be me, can it?’ you asked quietly so only Harry could hear, ‘Even when it’s a mistake...’

‘You have no idea.’ Harry whispered back, patting your hand slightly, handing Ron a glass of clear liquid. 'Now drink that up, it's a tonic for the nerves, keep you calm when she arrives, you know,'

'Brilliant,' said Ron eagerly, and he gulped the antidote down noisily.

Harry, you and Slughorn watched him. For a moment, Ron beamed at you. Then, very slowly, his grin sagged and vanished, to be replaced by an expression of utmost horror.

'Back to normal, then?' said Harry, grinning. Slughorn chuckled. Thanks a lot, Professor.'

'Don't mention it, m'boy, don't mention it,' said Slughorn, as Ron collapsed into a nearby armchair, looking devastated. 'Pick-me-up, that's what he needs,' Slughorn continued, now-bustling over to a table loaded with drinks. 'I've got Butter-beer, I've got wine, I've got one last bottle of this oak-matured mead ... hmm ... meant to give that to Dumbledore for Christmas ... ah well ...' he shrugged '... he can't miss what he's never had! Why don't we open it now and celebrate Mr Weasley's birthday? Nothing like a fine spirit to chase away the pangs of disappointed love ...'

He chortled again and you and Harry joined in.

There you are, then,' said Slughorn, handing Harry, Y/N and Ron a glass of mead each, before raising his own. 'Well, a very happy birthday, Ralph -'

'- Ron -' you whispered.

But Ron, who did not appear to be listening to the toast, had already thrown the mead into his mouth and swallowed it.

There was one second, hardly more than a heartbeat, in which Harry knew there was something terribly wrong and Slughorn, it seemed, did not. '- and may you have many more -

'Ron!' you yelled.

Ron had dropped his glass; he half-rose from his chair and then crumpled, his extremities jerking uncontrollably. Foam was dribbling from his mouth and his eyes were bulging from their sockets.

'Professor!' you bellowed. 'Do something!'

But Slughorn seemed paralysed by shock. Ron twitched and choked: his skin was turning blue.

'What - but -' spluttered Slughorn.

‘HARRY, THE STONE!’ you yelled, frightened at the spasming body in front of you.

Harry leapt over a low table and sprinted towards Slughorn's open potion kit, pulling out jars and pouches, while the terrible sound of Ron's gargling breath filled the room. Then he found it - the shrivelled kidney-like stone Slughorn had taken from him in Potions.

He hurtled back to Ron's side, wrenched open his jaw and thrust the bezoar into his mouth. Ron gave a great shudder; a rattling gasp and his body became limp and still.

-----------

“He’s alright, isn’t he?” you asked Madame Pomfrey for about the hundredth time.

“Yes dear, he’s fine,” she consolingly told you.

“Quick thinking on your part, Harry and Y/N. Using a bezoar.” Dumbledore informed you.

“I agree, Potter and L/N’s actions were heroic! Only, why were they necessary?” Professor McGonagall questioned.

As they moved onto a conversation about a plot, you moved Ron’s flaming red hair out of his face, gently stroking his arm. The thought of someone wanting to poison him was too gruesome.

“Where is he? Where is my Won-Won? Has he been asking for me?” a high-pitched voice suddenly asked as you groaned.

“You.” Lavender spat, “What are you doing here?”

“I could ask you the same thing!” you angrily shot back.

“I happen to be his girlfriend!” Lavender said in a dignified voice.

“Oh yeah?” you asked, “I happen to be his... best friend!”

“Friend.” Lavender scoffed, “Don’t make me laugh. You haven’t spoken in weeks! I suppose you want to patch up with him now that he’s all... interesting!”

“Interesting?!” you shrilly cried, “He’s poisoned, you daft dimbo!”

Ron chose that moment to groan in his sleep, muttering to himself unconsciously.

“Ah.” Lavender said triumphantly, “See? He senses my presence.”

“Ugh.” Ron groaned, still sleeping, “Uhh.... Y/N... Y/N/N...”

Your eyes grew wide as Lavender stifled a sob, running out of the room.

The professors stared after her.

“Oh, to be young.” Professor Dumbledore sighed, “And to feel love’s keen sting. I think we ought to leave, Mr. Weasley is well tended to by Miss L/N.”

“About time.” Ginny whispered as she and Harry shared a smirk, sending heat to your cheeks.

“Oh, shut up.” You huffed, still blushing madly as you stroked Ron’s hand.

-----

Ron had been released from the hospital wing, and was once again seated in the common room with you, Harry and Hermione at late night. The room was deserted.

“I’m leaving, Crookshanks is probably hungry,” Hermione announced, getting up.

The silence was deafening.

“So,” Harry said in an obvious attempt to make conversation, though you could practically feel the smirk in his voice, “Aren’t you curious, Ron? About how we drove Lavender away?”

“Not really.” Ron shrugged, “As long as she’s gone, it’s fine by me.”

The truth was, Ron was very much aware of what had caused the girl to run away from the hospital wing a week ago.

“Right.” Harry was smirking worse than ever, “Y/N. Say, why have you been avoiding Ron for so long?”

“Hmm?” you squeaked. Seeing no possible way out of this, you sighed, “He was being a git.”

“Aren’t I always being a git to you?” Ron teased, causing you to roll your eyes.

“And say, Ron. Why have you been so keen to get rid of Lavender?” Harry asked again.

“She was annoying me.” Ron whined, “All she did was snog me. My lips got chapped! Look!”

“I’ll take your word for it.” Harry grimaced in disgust, “But that can’t be all, can it? Is there someone else? Or are you ready to shag whoever asks you first?”

“Excuse me?” Ron’s ears had turned scarlet, “Of course not! So, what if there was someone else?”

“You like someone?” you asked, trying to make the agony in your voice less obvious.

Ron, who noticed it anyway, felt a small glimmer of hope inside his body, “Uhm, yeah. I do.”

“And who might that be?” you struggled to keep your voice even; it was already two octaves higher than usual.

Taking a deep breath and considering that this could prove to be a disaster, Ron told the truth.

“You. I fancy you.”

“WHAT?” you asked, “Did I hear that right?!”

“I said I fancy you!” Ron yelled in embarrassment and pain, scared that you would burst out laughing.

“Oh,” you said thickly, “Oh, Ron! I... I fancy you too.”

“What?” it was Ron’s turn to ask, “Say that again?”

“I fancy you too.” You clarified, cheeks burning.

Ron leaned into the distance between you and you could feel his breath on your face. Gaze flickering to your lips, he ran his thumb over them before closing the distance between you.

The kiss started out sweet and loving, but soon turned angry and passionate as your lips collided multiple times.

“Um, guys?” Harry asked, reminding you that he was still there, “I got the point, you can stop now.”

Ignoring him, you and Ron continued.