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write-orflight · 4 years

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Like Real People Do. (Spencer x Reader)

Chapter 1

*Gif not mine*

Prologue Chapter 2

Rating: M, eventually will be smut.

Words: 2.5k

Warnings: regular CM crime stuff. brief mentions of previous assault. vomit.

Request: OPEN/CLOSED

A.N Thanks for the love on the Prologue, message to be added to taglist. much love Cia

Chapter 1: However scary

You start to follow Hotch outside his office, barely containing the smile on your face. You couldn’t help it, the job you’ve been dreaming about for a decade was yours now. As you left the office, you couldn’t help but notice the short Italian man exiting his.

“Rossi?” You smiled. The man in question turned and grinned upon seeing you.

“Bella!” He opened his arms to hug you which you automatically accepted.

“I thought you retired, old man.”

Rossi scoffed. “You know me, can’t stay away for long.” Hotch stepped up, joining you guys. “So am I correct in assuming you’ve taken the job?” Rossi asks.

“You would be correct.” You smile. “And now, since I have a big girl job and can take care of myself. I’m hoping those mysterious money drops into my bank account will stop.” You gave him a knowing look. Though you and Rossi were not as close as you and Hotch, you still revered him as a father figure as much as he did you a daughter.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He says holding up his hands.

“Sure you don’t, old man.” You laughed. “How’s… Krystal?” You say trying to remember which wife Rossi was on now.

“Divorced.” Rossi smirks.

“Aw, I’m sorry, Dave. I thought 3 would be the lucky number.”

“So did I.” Rossi smiled. “How’s Persephone?” David smiles widely at the mention of your adoptive mother's name.

“Still not interested in becoming number 4.” You laughed, inducing a boisterous laugh from Dave and a small chuckle from Hotch. “She’s currently backpacking through India and building eco houses along the way.”

“Sounds like Persephone.” David smiles. You guys continue to catch up for a couple of more minutes not noticing the team staring up at you from the bullpen.

“Do you guys know who she is?” Emily asks

“No but Rossi and Hotch know her by the looks of it.” Derek replies.

“I met her in the elevator.” Spencer speaks up. “Her name’s Y/N.”

“Wonder what she's doing here.” Derek says as Penelope walks up with a tin of her famous cookies that Spencer is already reaching for. She pulls back so it’s out of reach from his perch on his desk.

“Well, if she took the job then that is your newest team member.” Penelope smiled. “Hotch asked me to do a background check last week so I assume he’s hiring her. Which means these cookies are for her.” She says pulling even more back as Spencer continues to make grabby hands at the tin.

“Why does she get cookies her first day? I didn’t get any on my first day.” Spencer points out, not caring how much he sounds like a child.

“I’m not really allowed to talk about it, but let’s just say I think she could really use the kindness.”

“What did you find out about her, Baby girl?” Derek asked.

Penelope frowns slightly, she never liked keeping secrets, especially from the team. “I’m really not allowed to say, but what I can tell you is that she’s smart, like really smart. Maybe not Reid’s level but smart enough to make dean's list at an Ivy League every year.”

“Which school?” Spencer asks.

“Stanford.”

Spencer nods. That would make her pretty smart, that or just good at school. As he’s exiting his thoughts, JJ walks past them, throwing a “We have a case.” Over her shoulder before heading to Rossi, Hotch and the new girl.

We all begin filing into the conference room, Rossi, Hotch and Y/N walking in last. Hotch clears his throat. “This is Agent Y/L/N.” He says gesturing at you. “She will be joining us this case. I’m sure you guys will get around to formal introductions later.” Hotch says before taking a seat nodding at JJ to start. You hold up your hand in a small wave before taking a seat next to Hotch. Everyone else regards you with a small nod except a brightly dressed blonde woman who excitedly waves back at you.

“We’re heading to Nashville.” A blonde woman, you assume, is JJ says pulling up images of victims on the screen. You swallowed the lump in your throat, you were used to crime scene photos, you studied several in the FBI academy but kids would always get to you. “3 boys ages 10-13 all have gone missing on their way home from school, all found 5 days later buried arms across chest, heads shaved.”

“Signs of remorse are obviously there but the hair...is something different.” A dark haired woman pointed out.

“Could be trichophilia.” You pointed out. Everyone looked at you, you cleared your throat under the scrutiny. “Trichophilia. It’s the fetishzation of hair.” You provide. Everyone nods and JJ continues to provide information on the case before Hotch announces wheels up in 30. You go to grab your files and notebook when the brightly dressed blonde woman ambushes you a tin fully extended to you.

“Hi, I’m Penelope Garcia, and these are for you!” practically shoving the tin into your hands.

“Thank you, I’m Y/N.” You smiled, you weren’t really a sweets person but you weren’t going to turn down the kindness. A brown skinned man and the dark haired woman from before walked up to you both.

“I’m Emily Prentiss, this is Derek Morgan” she says both holding their hands out for you to shake. You shuffle the cookies and files into one arm to shake hands with them.

“Y/N Y/L/N.” You say back.

“So you seemed to already know Hotch?” Derek pointed out.

You had been prepared for someone to ask about that so you rattled off your prepared speech. “Yes, Hotch is a family friend.” That seemed like the easiest way to explain your relationship.

“So that’s how you were able to steamroll in here, huh? Friends with the boss?” The man laughs.

“No, I think it might’ve been one of my several degrees, merits or letters of recommendation, one of which from the director himself.” You point out. “Though I suppose knowing Aaron didn’t necessarily hurt things.”

Derek holds up his hands in surrender. “That could be true too. I guess we’ll see out on the field.” He says before him and Prentiss walk out.

You sigh heavily and start heading out the same way before a small voice pipes up behind you.

“They’ll come around.”

You turn your eyes onto the man you had met in the elevator before. “Sorry?”

“Morgan and Prentiss. They’ll come around, they acted like that towards me when I first started too. It’s-uh because you’re young.”

You nodded. He had a point and so did Morgan in a sense. You were very young, seemingly too young to be starting in a field like this. You knew it’d be hard to believe Hotch didn’t pull some strings for you.

“I knew my age would probably raise some questions. But I worked really hard, and it sucks I have to prove myself 10x over just because of my age.”

“I understand.” He says, following you out of the conference room.

“I felt like you would. You introduced yourself as Dr. Reid before but we look around the same age.”

“Yes, I hold 3 doctorates.”

“Three?!” You said incredulously. “What were you like, eleven starting college?”

“12, actually.” He smiles. He has a nice smile, instantly crosses your brain. You dash that thought immediately.

“That would have to make you some sort of genius.”

“I believe there’s not quantifiable way to measure intelligence but I suppose by societal standards, I am. I have an IQ of 187.”

You let out a deep whistle. “And here I thought I’d be the smart one.” You laugh.

He fumbles a bit over his words. “I-I mean you still could be. L-Like I said, there’s no way to accurately measure intelligence.”

You laugh before rounding your new desk grabbing your go bag underneath it. “Thanks for the vote of confidence but we both know that’s not true.” You smile before turning to head towards the jet.

——————————————————

You and the team had been in Madison county for 4 days now and you were hitting a wall. The day you arrived there had been a 4th body found, same cause of death, same shaved head only this time the word HELP was carved into the boy’s back. You knew this was a part of the job, going to crime scenes and having to see bodies but you couldn’t stop the thoughts. His hands were on your neck again, his knife grazing your sides. You felt the bile rise up.

“Pull over.” You all but scream to Morgan he nods, zipping the car to the side of the road. You instantly hop out and release your lunch.

Morgan steps out and pats your back. “It’s alright, kid. First one’s never easy. Especially when it’s children.”

He thinks you’re sick from the crime scene You think. That’s probably for the best.

“Thanks.” You mumble. He nods as you guys wordlessly walk back to the SUV.

Since then you’ve been at the police station working on the geographical profile with Spencer. You know Morgan had probably said something to Hotch about your upchuck and that was why you were stuck here. But still, you couldn’t think to complain. Spencer was incredibly smart and great to work with.

“There’s something we’re missing.” He says off handedly. You nod agreeing. You take in the circle like pattern the unsub seemed to be going in. It didn’t make sense. You had profiled him as a socially awkward loner with an overbearing parent. He wasn’t good with adults but could somehow get kids to trust him. Enough to get into the car with him late at night. It hit you a second later.

“Oh my god.” You said scrambling for your phone to call Garcia. Spencer looks over at you, raising an eyebrow questioningly.

“You’ve reached your high priestess.” You hear Penelope’s voice come through the speaker.

“Hey Garcia, it’s Y/N.” You say. “Can you tell me what business is near the first dump site? I have an idea.”

You hear the faint sound of clacking as she finds the information for you. “Looks to be a bus lot.” You fought the urge to pump your fist in the air. You were right.

“Alright Garcia. I need a background check on all school bus drivers in Madison county, cross check it with anything that would fit the profile so minor stalking charges, assault…” you train off. “How long do you think that’ll take?” You ask.

“If I get started now, a couple hours.” She says. “Penelope out.” She says, hanging up.

You look up to see Spencer looking right back at you. “A bus driver.” You say smiling. “Think about it, everyday you ride the bus home from school and play outside with your friends until late. And when you're heading home your bus driver approaches you in his car offering to take you back. You have no reason not to trust him because he’s brought you home safely so many times before.” You explain, a brief frown grazing your lips. These children met an untimely demise all for trusting someone they were supposed to trust.

Spencer nods, taking in your words. “Good work,” he says. “You figured it out.”

You flushed under the high praise. “I’m sure you would’ve come to the same conclusion given more time.” You say.

“But I didn’t.” He says. “You did, and you probably saved another kid's life in the meantime.” He smiled and patted your shoulder before turning back to the board.

You looked at his back for a while. You knew since you stepped on the elevator that first time you were attracted to Spencer Reid. He was tall with a lean build and a nice set jaw and incredibly smart. You’d be lying to yourself if that wasn’t your exact type. But on top of all that, he was nice. Almost sickeningly so.

Suddenly you felt a lot more at risk than before.

————————————————

William Davison was arrested September 7th. You were right, he was a bus driver for Madison county. Police caught him in his car full of things that pointed him directly to the abductions.

You and the team were now back on the jet heading home. While the rest team was playing cards you opted to sit in the back. Textbooks laid out on the table as you tried to take notes from them. You were so engrossed. You didn’t see Spencer come take the seat in front of you.

“What’re you studying?” He asked.

You look up. “Uh, I’m in my doctoral program for psychology right now.” You say. “Right now, I’m working on an essay about nature vs. nurture effects on the killer's mind.”

“And what is your theory?” He asks.

“That while I do believe nurture plays a role somewhat, if someone has a predisposition to kill, hurt or maim that is something they are born with. Primates and to some effects humans are naturally empathetic creatures so I think people with the desire for violence are defects. Now even though that’s the case it’s still your own conscious decision to kill.” You say pausing. “Some people are born with natural predispositions they don’t follow all the time. Like your hands for instance.”

“What about my hands?” He inquired.

You swallow, clearing your throat. “Well you have fairly large hands, with l-long fingers.” You stutter. Nice going, Y/N. You think. Way to tell the guy you’re starting to develop a crush on that you’ve been staring at his hands. “In the primitive stage, that would’ve made you good at hunting and gathering. In a more modern sense, you’d be good at piano. Though I imagine, you don’t do either.” You say, already knowing the answer. You were a profiler now after all.

“No, I do not.” He smiled widely at you, he always appreciated intelligent conversation when it came by. “I disagree with your theory though.”

“Really? Why’s that?” You question. He begins to go on a long winded explanation why he thinks Nature vs. Nurture is outdated, taking several detours to talk about some other theories he’s found interesting. You watch him intensely taking in the words. You try to pay attention, you really do. But your eyes keep going back to the mouth the rapid words are coming out of and the hands that are also gesturing widely. You just had tuned back in when he suddenly stopped. You tilted your head at him.

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“Nothing.” he says, looking mildly uncomfortable. “It’s just… no one lets me talk for this long.”

“Really?” You question, he nods. “Well, I was listening, I find it interesting. Actually…” you trail off picking up your pen, flipping to a new page in your notebook. “Do you mind if I write some of this down, might come in handy when I write my paper later.”

He nods enthusiastically as he continues his thoughts from before. You start writing fast now to keep up, interjecting here and there to ask him to expand on some stuff. Eventually the rest of the team drifts off until it's only the sound of his soft voice and the scratch of your pen filling the plane.

Taglist: @haylaansmi

#spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer x you #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #bau x reader #spencer x reader smut #spencer reid x reader smut

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someonewhowannadielol · 4 years

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Blossom fully (deep in my bones)

(Teacher!JK x College student!Reader) PART ONE

Warnings: JK has anger management issues, very slight violence, a lot of fluff, don't get a heart attack.

Genre: Fluff.

Word Count: 10.3k

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

I have decided to turn this into a trilogy. This is Part One, enjoy. Let me know if you want to be tagged (you could just comment, or dm me).

Love. Adoration. Lust. For Jeon Jungkook, his entire life, they had been just words, nothing more – after all, these were just concepts made by society, what if people had not known about the concept of love? Would they still try to find it? Would they still be willing to work for it? Then, you came into his life, and gave meaning to those words.

“Welcome to the annual football championship between Seoul Nation University and Sungkyunkwan University 2020,”

“Break his jaw!” Jungkook heard the other team chant, while looking at him. He just scoffed while adjusting his gloves, as if.

“Really? Think you can do it? Go ahead and try,” Jungkook mocked them across the field, his tongue poking against his left cheek.

Jungkook was never set out for failure, it was never allowed in his life – because he knew for a fact that his father would have his throat if he didn’t turn out to be the best of the best.

At age five, he had a strict workout regime and had less than 10 percent body fat, maintained till present date. He had also learnt that he would rather be loved than feared, he hated the look in the eyes of his classmates when he accidentally punched his seatmate, Byung-chul, just because he had taken his red crayon without asking. Now, no one would sit next to him at lunch.

He told himself that he didn’t mind it, but he couldn’t help but cry at night because no one wanted to play on the see-saw with him. He knew if he asked them, they would have no choice other than to say yes, after all, they didn’t want to end up like Byung-chul, hospitalized, with a broken arm. But what’s the use, if they don’t actually want to be with him?

Age seven, he had landed his first punch on his butler when he saw him abuse his dog. He didn’t know what to tell to his therapist, how could he explain that all he saw was red when he saw Yeontan being thrown out of the room? How could he explain that he had no control over his body? He couldn’t control the beast in him that had pounced over the man.

Age ten, he landed his position as quarterback on the national “Under 19,” football team. Soon, he had to drop out – not because he couldn’t play well, hell, he was probably the most talented played that they could’ve scouted. But, because he wouldn’t tolerate any thing that would come in the path of him and his success.

Age fifteen, he had graduated high school, gotten a perfect 1600 in his SAT, and been given a full ride to SNU. Throughout his high school career, despite having narrow minded, shallow and mindless classmates, Jungkook still wishes he made more memories, had photos with friends in his camera roll (rather than just pictures of sunsets and tattoo designs),

Age 20. Present Day, and he had earned the title of Doctor, not that he could actually perform in the surgeries because of his “anger issues”. Currently, he was a Grad student, but also taught the first year Undergrads, just because of his immense knowledge that could be on par with the old, wrinkly professors that had been teaching since 30+ years.

There had never been a championship, never an exam, never a game that Jeon Jungkook hadn’t won. He wasn’t going to lose this one either. The chants from hundreds of people across the campus stadium were deaf on his ears when he heard the other team’s captain call him an asshole.

Everyone knew Jungkook had well, anger management issues. And to say they were bad was, well, an understatement. So far, the only thing he’s learnt from 14 years of anger management classes, movies, documentaries and seminars is that – only attack when they punch you enough to make you bleed.

“Jeon! Look out!”

Without a warning, the other team’s captain had punched him in the face, hard enough to bust his lip.

Jungkook just sighed, shook his head as if he were disappointed (He was, in fact disappointed, did this dumbass not known what he could do to him?), and calmly just brushed his white glove against his lip, internally wishing he could see his red blood smeared across it.

And there it was, a streak of blood. Then, Jungkook punched him back – not stopping until his face was almost disfigured – suits him for even trying to mess with Jeon Jungkook.

Around an hour later, Jungkook already knew he was going to be chewed out by the college dean, so he was already counting down from 100 on his way to seminar room number 3.

“54, 53, 52, 51,” he muttered under his breath, pushing back his – now long (he really ought to cut it now, it was starting to get into his eyes) – hair back with his left hand, and entered the room. He could see he interrupted a lecture, and was almost about to head back when-

“Oh! Jeon Jungkook, what a pleasure!” he heard the college dean speak in his pretentious, and extremely conceited voice, here we go again.

“Everyone! Welcome Doctor Jeon Jungkook, he’s one of our in-house surgeons. Topper of the college, topper of the board, topper of the university. In fact, he’s of the one of the best – if not the best student SNU has ever got the chance to teach. He’s got the most impeccable academic record, of all time, now going to teach biochemistry to first year undergraduates this year,” Jungkook scoffed when he heard the entire class clap their hands at his arrival, after the Dean’s speech that complimented him, but he knew better, he kne-

“But what’s the use of all that? In anger management, he scores a zero. He’s a classic example for all of you, if you can’t hold your anger in, you’re nothing more than a murderer with surgical instruments in an emergency ward. Without compassion, your degree is of no use to me. Even a low score is acceptable to me, but not that behaviour,”

Was he trying to rile Jungkook up on purpose?

“Please continue, sir, I really loved the analysis you’ve done on me, please do continue,” The words flew out of Jungkook’s mouth as he made his way up the stairs to the stage where the dean stood.

“What behaviour is this? I need you to write an apology letter to Sungkyunkwan University, and to the college board as well,”

It was clear the dean was about to get off the stage, before well, Jungkook spoke again. The dean didn’t really think he was getting off this easily, did he?

“Football is a violent sport, the minute they entered our territory, and tried to abuse the rules, that’s the minute everything and anything is allowed. As far as the apology goes, I’d rather quit the college than write that bullshit,”

The seminar room was so quite that a pin dropped would shatter the silence. Jungkook smirked before he exited, “I won’t lose anything by leaving SNU, any other medical program in the world will be ready to accept me, the only reason I stay in this hellhole is because I enjoy the spring in Seoul. But imagine the loss of pride that SNU will experience once Jeon Jungkook leaves the establishment,”

Jungkook walked across the campus cafeteria as he tried to find his lighter in his pocket, fiddling with his cigarette in his other hand. “Are you seriously going to leave?” Jimin runned after him, struggling with his lab coat, “what will you get out of this? Just write the goddamn apology,”

Jungkook decided to settle on a table where three rowdy boys sat, flexing their muscles, but as they saw Jungkook approaching, they simply muttered apologies before scattering away, leaving the table.

Jimin-ah,” Jungkook smiled as he puffed his cigarette, “there’s nothing for me here, besides, I was planning to move to the US, anyways,”

“And leave me and Tae here? Wow, you’re such a considerate friend, you know,” Jungkook saw Jimin pout, and smiled.

It was really a miracle that he made his first two friends ever while his second year, here at SNU. Jimin loved pets, and was practicing to become a vet, while Taehyung was – kind of – crazy, and even scared Jungkook the first time he met him. He’s pretty sure Tae would’ve set the lab on fire if Jungkook hadn’t studied chemical properties before his class. At first, he hated it when both of them would tag along, following him to lunch, inviting themselves into his mansion, and forcing him to go to the arcade with them – but soon, he had learned to love being around them.

While looking around for Tae, so he could finally break the news of him leaving, his eyes landed on your figure. Now, Jungkook had never believed in love at first sight. Hell, he didn’t even believe in love, so, love at first sight seemed a little – well, impossible. But here you were, the reason why Jungkook felt like his heart was going to come out of his ribcage, it felt as if Jungkook had been struck by cupid, because the way you looked so adorable in your pink dress had left Jungkook feeling giddy. Seoul had a lot of pretty girls, he saw them every day, some of them even deserved to be on the cover of Vogue – but you, you were different, Something about you, your vibe, your pink cheeks and eyes that curled up when you smiled, something about you was difference.

Jungkook looked down at his letter of quitting, and simply tore it down when saw your figure leave the cafeteria.

“I can’t believe this, you see one of the first years, and suddenly, you want to stay?” Jimin shouts and slams his fat book on the table, muttering curse words.

Intimidating the first years – ragging, as they called it – had always been Jungkook’s favourite thing to do. Every year he’d either make them do ridiculous tasks, like eating a living goldfish, or running around the block naked. However, this time, it was different.

He made sure he entered the class taught by the foreign professor, so he could sneak in a couple of threats without making too much of a scene in front of the directors. As he excused himself in the full class, he couldn’t help but be glad that he looked quite… intimidating today. Everyone was already, well, scared of him, but his leather jacket, motorbike, and bandages on his fingers (which are actually there because he hurt his fingers by writing too much – not from the constant fights that people think he’s immersed into), they just add to his picture.

“There’s a medical camp soon for freshmen, so I would like to make an announcement,” Jungkook smiles, but everyone can sense the chilly aura underneath that smile, “I would also like to speak in Korean, since they’re mostly fluent in it,”

“Yes, Mr. Jeon, you may continue,” the British Professor smiles back – she can’t deny him, he’s her co-worker now, after all.

“Listen to me carefully,” Jungkook lets his tongue poke his inner cheek, as he brushes back his – way too long – hair, “I’m not going to repeat this in English, and that dumbass shouldn’t get a clue of what I’m saying,” he says as he nods politely at the professor on the slightly lifted stage. Once he confirms that she can’t understand a word, he turns her back towards her, and walks across the class, staring at everyone with a predatory look in his dark eyes.

“There’s a new girl, freshman, she’s mine. Other than her, you can woo any girl you like, but if I even so catch anyone staring at her, let alone trying to get on those cute study dates, or pretending to be in the same hobbies as her,” he looks across the stadium, “you’ll end up in bandages. With a failing grade in my class.”

Jungkook can’t help but present a fake smile, “don’t look so scared, idiots, you don’t want her,” he nods off to the professor, “to think I’m saying something wrong,”

“Why does it sound like a threat?” A nameless teenager from the back speaks up, which makes Jungkook’s smile slide off faster than sound travels.

“I’m not threatening you. I’m warning you. Besides, don’t even try to outsmart me, don’t worry new girls come in every year, you’ll have your chances. Now don’t sulk, or look suspicious. Circulate this message around, I don’t have enough time to go to every single unit,” he scans everyone’s face again, making sure they digested his new given information.

Once he’s satisfied, he convert back to English, “Good luck with the camp, guys. Meet you in my class tomorrow,” and with one last threatening smile, he’s gone.

“What did he say? Why did it sound like a threat?” the teacher joked once Jungkook left, and the class couldn’t help but immediately deny the threatening tone. After all, no one wanted to face Jeon Jungkook’s wrath.

Your nervous jitters were still present, and you don’t want to admit, but you did tear up a little when you saw your parent’s car become smaller and smaller as it continued to drive down the road, till it finally is so far that you can’t even make it out with your eyes.

While most people had roommates of their own year, you were stuck with a sophomore and you didn’t exactly know whether that was a good thing, or a bad one. She had made very clear about what side of room was hers, and why it was hers, and how you’re not even allowed to get onto her side – and that did make you a little annoyed, because how could someone be so pretentious, but throughout the span of three days, the pretentious-ness was definitely wearing out. She’d cook dinner for you every day, because you didn’t have a rice cooker and she did (which, you really needed to invest in a rice cooker because you can pretty much cook anything in that fucker), and she was amazing at giving advice for every single teacher out there. You still had to get used to her high use of curse words, but it’s just what made her, her.

“Oh damn, you got the worst professors out there, bro you better goddamn pull your socks up, otherwise things aren’t gonna look pretty this semester,” you heard her chuckle, as she sits on her bed with one leg on top of the other.

“Why? Who’s so bad?”

Fucking hell. You already had had enough of bad teachers, it’s almost like you were cursed because your high school teachers were literally out to get you – but you guess it was a blessing in disguise because that just made you work even harder (just to spite them, hah), and you somehow ended up here, at SNU, one of the most prestigious colleges in Korea.

“It’s actually not all that bad, you got Mr. Lee for microbiology. He isn’t all that bad, but just don’t sit in the front row unless you want spit on your face every time he talks. I swear it’s like he had a motherfucking fountain in his mouth. Also, he loves it when you submit your papers with a perfect format, so do that whenever you give his weekly assignments,” She says, all while applying on a red blood coloured nail polish.

You study your schedule once again, “What about Mr. Kang?”

“No fucking absolute way! You got Mr. Kang? Bitch, seems like the universe is tryna fuck you over,” she says, and then mumbles a curse when some of the rid pigment ends up on her skin.

“Is he bad? Strict?” you can’t help but already be scared of the semester, and it hasn’t even started yet.

“He’s the most pretentious fucker you’ll ever meet, he just thinks he’s the best professor because he graduated from Oxford. Big woo, motherfucker. Half of his class fails pretty much, the only two people to walk out of his class with an A* grade were this kid named Baek-woo or something, and of course, Jeon Jungkook,”

Jeon Jungkook. You swear you’ve seen that name before. Oh wait, ohhh, he was your biochemistry professor.

“Jeon Jungkook? He’s also a professor?” you look at your perfectly squared schedule, and you have his classes thrice a week. Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

“You got him?”

“Yeah,”

“Don’t know if I should call you lucky or not, because I have no clue what he teaches like. All I know is he’s fucking crazy good at everything, and that he’s super-hot. Not that he’s really interested in any girls, also I personally think he’s mental or something,” your roommate had finally finished painting her feet, and was now letting them sway in the air, and dry.

She spent the next hour talking about Jungko- Professor Jeon was basically a murder, a thug, a gang member or whatever even. You just laughed at the thought of it all.

First day, and you’re more nervous than you intended to be. It wasn’t going well, at all. You had decided to look chic today, with your new (way too expensive) designer blazer, and your nude high heels, but here you were, sitting in the fourth row, wearing a red polka dress that made you look like a freshman. A high school freshman, not a college freshman.

You cursed yourself for buying a fake version of the nude heels (also, you could feel a tear forming in your eyes when you saw the heel broken, when you finally unpacked your belongings, but you sucked it right back in), you also wished your roommate was dead, because now you were sitting on your bed with a coffee stain on your blazer (no amounts of sorry could fix this disaster).

Also, you couldn’t help but notice an ungodly amount of stares thrown at you – not from hate, but just from sheer curiosity, and you were just so self-conscious because of it all, that you slipped from the last few stairs down the hostel causing your bare knees to get the nastiest scrape. Fuck, that’s going to hurt.

So when you finally settled in your Biochemistry class, you couldn’t help but well, be scared. There were rumours of Jeon Jungkook, your new teacher to be. Rumours that he used to be in a gang and dealt with drugs, and underground fights. There was a rumour that he once put a room to fire, killing almost 50 people. Also, that one time when he came to school with bandages on his hands – probably because he punched people to death, or hospitalizing them. There are rumours about him running over people on his motorcycle as well, and you can’t help but be extra conscious about this class, in fact you wouldn’t even have opt for it in the first place if you knew that Jeon Jungkook was the one teaching it. But, even since you’ve transferred, you’ve just told yourself that these were just rumours, and not everything is the truth.

Till now. He entered the class, probably not following the teacher’s dress code – you were pretty positive that leather jackets and ripped jeans weren’t exactly allowed, but he just looked so hot good, that you could let it slide. His stare lingered on you for quite a while, and you couldn’t help but fidget in your seat, avoiding eye contact.

“You, in the fourth row,”

You could see him pointing at you, but you just internally wished that it wasn’t actually, well you, that he was calling. Looking around, you see several other people in your row, maybe he was pointing towards the girl on your left that looked way more presentable than you. Or maybe it was the boy on your left with glasses way too big for his face.

“You, in the red polka dot dress, come here,” Professor Jeon looked at you, and smiled? Why would he smile when he looked at you?

(You also quickly dismissed the thought that he has the cutest bunny smile you’ve ever seen, where his eyes crinkle slightly, and his cheeks bunch up – because that’s just inappropriate, even though the age gap isn’t that big.)

He quickly examines your knees, and you swear you see a flash of surprise (and worry?), and before you can register what is going on, he kneels down in front of you, and clicks his tongue, as if wanting to scold you.

“Sit here, in the front row where I can see you,” he says, after a few seconds of inspecting your new injury, and as you adjust yourself, you can’t help but be uncomfortable from the gazes of your classmates that disappear as soon as Professor Jeon starts teaching. Getting into SNU was a nightmare, and you weren’t going to let yourself fail any classes, but instead of listening to what Jungkook was teaching – which but the way, he taught way better than any of the other staff there. But his stare. His stare was terrifying.

His aura was definitely dangerous, and red sirens were bursting in your head, telling you to keep your distance from him. His deathly stare seemed anything but inviting, and when the boy to your right asked you about the syllabus, you couldn’t help but shiver under Jungkook’s Professor Jeon’s glare. He spent the next ten minutes shouting at the poor boy, who looked as if he was about to faint any second now. Scary.

Ever since, you’ve been avoiding any contact with him, even purposely ignoring him when he asked you what happened to your knee. (You tell yourself that his sad puppy face doesn’t bother you but in reality, it breaks your heart, and every time you try to sleep, it haunts you. (You then remind yourself about the numerous rumours he’s into, and the last thing you want to get in between is drama and romance)).

The first time Jungkook heard your name was through Taehyung (no, he wasn’t jealous that Tae knew your name before him, but he couldn’t help but want to reverse back time, just so he could learn your name before Taehyung did. Why did Tae know your name before he did?), and your name was on his tongue the entire day. Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, all he could think about was how your hair would feel when he would brush his fingers through it, how your hand would fit into his, how you would look in his oversized t-shirts. (Occasionally, he would also think how you would look, laying on his bed, underneath him – but the sheer thought of it gets him hot and bothered and what not, and he doesn't have the time to be fooling around, that too, with a student).

So when he saw you sitting with one hand on top of the other, in his class, he couldn’t help the smile when his eyes landed on you, you just looked so, so adorable in your little dress. The thought of you being away from him, just killed him inside so he had to ask you to sit in the front row, where he could look at you as much as he wants to, all while teaching his class. Of course, he saw red in his eyes when he saw your knees tainted with blood, and all he wanted was to wrap a bandage on it, he couldn’t bear to look at you, sitting in pain – but for once in his life, he was considerate and thought that you might not want the uninvited attention.

That consideration came to bite him in the ass, because you left before you could hear him, and as he saw you blend into the crowd, he couldn’t help but curse under his breath and want to punch the next person he sees.

There’s a lot that Jungkook changes throughout the first week of classes, he attaches a second seat to the end of his motorbike (because when you both start dating, he’ll have to take you around), and even cuts his long hair – in case you don’t like it, it could grow back anyways. He always has a packet of your favourite chocolate in the left pocket of his bag (no, he didn’t threaten the guy at the nearest 7/11 to tell him the candy you’ve been buying lately (he also denies the fact that he bought three plushies for you, that are currently sitting on his side table (the white rabbit with red cheeks reminds him a lot of you))). He can’t, but he tries to smoke way less, tries to buy less cigarettes, tries to chew gum instead, or drink more water. And he would never admit it, but he took a photo of your student profile, and set it as his wallpaper. Jimin and Taehyung exchange a couple of looks after discovering this fact, but don't say anything about it - none of their business, right?

Being an undergrad professor also has it’s perks, he can look at all your records, and well, currently, you’re failing Mr. Kang’s class – anatomy 101. Finally, a fucking excuse to talk to you, because the way you basically run after his class ends makes him think you’re avoiding him? But you wouldn’t do that to him… right?

Because of you, Jungkook has been rocking some Massive dark circles (with a capital M, because boy, they are blue and way too dark in comparison to his actual skin tone), the only reason being your existence and all he does is Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, while tossing in his bed at 3AM, thinking of how you smiled when he tried to crack a joke in the class, thinking of your pushing his fingers through your hair, thinking of how you fumbled with your thumbs before mumbling your answer to his sudden question.

“So, Y/N, what do you think out of all these,” he motions towards the options, “does not act as a restriction enzyme?”

He just wanted to coo over how your thumbs fought with each other, as you tried (key word, tried), to answer his really easy question. (It actually wasn’t even that easy, you were just too scared to get anything below a B in Professor Jeon’s class, so you ended up studying two chapters ahead of your syllabus – despite his fast pace). So, you knew the answer was Polydeoxtribonucleotide synthase, but for the love of god, you just couldn’t pronounce that word.

“It’s, uh, polydetr-,” you swear your breath was knocked out when he started walking towards you, oh God, why was he walking towards you?

“Yes, continue,” he smiles while standing, literally right in front of you. How does he expect you to answer when he’s looking at you as if you have all the answers of the universe. As if you were, I don’t know, Aphrodite or something.

“Uh, it’s the option D,”

“And that is?”

That motherfucker. He knew you couldn’t pronounce it.

“Polydo-“ you were positive that at this point you weren’t even breathing.

“Hey, just take a deep breath and try again,” He said, while taking your left hand in his own, and massaged it. You were positive everyone in the lab was looking at you, but their stares didn’t even compare to your hot teacher’s burning gaze.

“Poly-deo-,” you take a breath in,”x-tribo-nucleotide synthase,”

“That’s right, the answer is Polydeoxtribonucleotide synthase,” Jungkook says without having any trouble with the word, and before he gets away from you, he smiles in your direction, and says, “Good girl,”

You’re left to yourself wondering if this is a dream or if that just happened.

Jungkook’s day was going just terrible. His landlord had to be the cheapest bastard he knows, who just wouldn’t fix the water system, so for a week he was basically stuck with showering with ice cold water. On top of that, he was wearing a bruise on the left side of his face, it was all red and blue because last night he was too drunk to notice his book shelf that he installed last week.

He was supposed to be in the cafeteria right now, because at approximately 1:30 PM, your stupid microbiology class ended, and you headed straight to lunch after that, before your anatomy class. It had been, well give or take, around two weeks since the semester started, and he thought he would get over you soon, but you were just so goddamn adorable, and cute, and all Jungkook ever wanted was to squish your cheeks and press your body closer to his.

He finally reached the bustling cafeteria, ugh, he absolutely hated the noise there – so he never really ate there, preferring the quite café around the corner, but he knew you were on some sort of dumb student meal plan that only profits the university, and not actually you.

He’s expecting to find you sitting with your laptop (with a red smiley star sticker on the top right, which is just goddamn adorable (and no, that definitely isn’t the reason why Jungkook too, has a red smiley star sticker on his laptop now)). But you’re there, with some random ugly boy’s arm sprawled over your shoulder, as you giggle repeatedly at his bad jokes.

He sits on the table on your right and loudly slams his old anatomy book, before taking a seat. Here he was, all prepared with notes on what you were failing, all ready to teach you what you didn’t understand, spending all night making flashcards (he also ripped that one flashcard where on one side he wrote, “Will you go out with me?” and the other side blank, so you could write your response. He argues with himself that it wasn’t because he was shy or scared you’d say no – it was because it’s too cheesy).

His blood just boils when he sees you not removing – he finds out the boy’s name is Kim Seokjin – his ugly hand from your own, and just gets up and walks away after you giggle for the nth time on his not even funny jokes.

(Later that night, Jungkook tells himself he’s way better than that Seokjin bastard, even if Seokjin’s skin is flawless, and even if he has a handsome smile, and even if he can cook, and even if he can make you smile. Jungkook couldn’t have flawless hands because of all the callouses he has from writing too much, and his bruises might take a while to heal (he even puts an icepack on them now), and he could learn how to cook something other than instant noodles, and he could learn some jokes from the internet. He could be better than Seokjin, he would be better than anyone for you).

You love the feeling when things go perfect, and today was just so perfect. You fried an egg, all round a perfect circle and the yolk didn’t even break – which it always does when you flip it. Then, you sharpened a pencil and somehow the nib came out more than perfect, which made you all giggly and what not. Everyone in your friends circle at this point knew that you were the biggest hoe for cute stationery. Then, your anatomy class got cancelled and you were just so happy, and you even made a new friend today, Kim Seokjin.

You were a little uncomfortable when he smoothly glided his right arm over your shoulder, but he was just so funny, and he bought you the special menu items today – so you couldn’t even complain. After all, you really looked at him as a big brother because all he talked about was how his roommate was a complete asshole.

(“I told him to get me some water – which he should, because I’m older than him, and he should totally respect me,” he says, with an exaggerated and exasperated sigh.

“And he did what?”

“He brought a glass full of ice and told me to wait,”)

The one thing that you were, in fact really over thinking was about that one professor of yours. Jeon Jungkook. As you let the water cascade down your body in the tiny (really tiny) cubicle of the washroom that you shared with your roommate, Hye-jin.

“I noticed Kook looking at you in the cafeteria that day, y’know the whole campus is talking about it,”

“Uh, yeah, it’s kind of hard not to notice,”

“I’m guessing you don’t know about the whole speech he gave in that one class at the start of the semester?”

Jungkook doesn’t really believes in love at first sight, but after stalking you on social media, he knew he was a goner for you. (Especially after that one video of yours where you’re trying to pet a dog, but the dog runs away, and you end up pouting at the camera. (Yes, he screen recorded the video and watched it a billion times before sleeping)).

He has never had the urge to protect someone other than himself, and maybe his friends. But you, it was different with you – he doesn’t know if it was the small chub in your cheeks, or the way your ears would turn red when he would ask you something, or the way you would walk, or the way you slapped your thigh when you laughed, or the aroma of your citrus shampoo when you would walk past him, or your habit of getting coming down to the convenience store to grab ramen every Thursday night at 10 PM.

He doesn’t know it, but he knows he’s meant to love you, meant to keep you in his life, meant to be yours, and meant to make you his.

He has endured, yet another week where he hasn’t talked to you – and not gonna lie, it’s actually driving him crazy. Every day he sees you talking to Seokjin and laughing with others, while he sits and does nothing other than gawk at you.

During class, while he did occasionally glance your way, he still has 73 students to teach, and this being his first year as a teacher, he can’t afford any sort of mishaps at all.

But every man on this Earth has their limits. And Jungkook’s limit was watching Seokjin kiss your cheek. While you did (playfully) punch him on the shoulder, and you did shout out ‘Gross!’, Jungkook was sure that you definitely didn’t mean that punch, and you definitely didn’t think he was gross.

Did you think that Jungkook was gross? Why didn’t you ever visit him during office hours? Because every single girl in his class was sure to meet him for some dumb question, or to ask for extra credit. But you didn’t. Did you like Seokjin? Did you like someone else?

The next time he sees you is on Friday, during his class and he just knows, he knows he can’t go through today without talking to you, and the only way to do that is to-

“Y/N, could you stay after class, please?” he says, without even giving you a glance.

You mutter a silent yes, and keep your head down for the rest of the class, trying your best to ignore the mumbles of the class, talking about you and why you get to be treated different from others.

“You wanted to talk to me?” you say as you walk around the long table, running your fingers along the marble shelf.

“Do you wanna go out with me?”

What. What the heck?

You chuckle, thinking it’s some sort of sick prank he’s playing, you wait for him to say ‘Sike!’ but it never comes. Then you think that maybe, just maybe he does actually want to take you out? No. No way, he probably just wants to get alone with you in an alley, where he would kill you – or even worse, sell you off.

“No, thank you. If that’s all, am I allowed to go?” you say all this, in the smallest, most polite voice possible, after all the last thing you wanted was to piss off your professor. (who might be in a gang, who knows at this point?)

“What? Why?” he says, almost panicked, and you hear a shuffle of items as he makes his way to you, trying to watch you before you leave again. He sees your face morphed into an expression of extreme boredom. Fuck, he had to do something, quick.

“Not to be rude, but Professor, I just don’t think it’s right – or even allowed for us to date,” you say, trying your best not to look at him, shuffling your bag on your shoulder, because fuck, he looked so sad – his eyes almost looked glassy, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“You don’t have to date Professor Jeon, you can just date me as the graduate student here. I’m, still a student here, Y/N,”

“And? You’re also like four years older than me,”

“Three years,” he says, pouting. Ugh, he’s so cute.

“That doesn’t make it any better,”

“It doesn’t?” he sighs.

“No, I’m still your student, and you’re still my teacher,”

“Tell me, Y/N, did you take chemistry in high school?” he asks, while quickly walking to the back and mixing some chemicals that he definitely wasn’t supposed to touch without gloves on.

“Yes, why?”

“Well, I’m currently holding, uh it’s either Acetonitrile or Iodine mixed with Vitamin C,” he says, and you can see both the liquids, which he mixes together without a worry in the world.

“And? Professor Jeon, what are you going to do?” you walk over to him, slower than ever, taking one step at a time.

‘Please, call me Jungkook. Or Kook, if you feel like it,” he gives you one of his signature smiles, that you should be used to by now – but you just get flustered every time.

“Now, will you go out with me?” he asks again, this time in a much more hopeful tone.

“No,” you say, drawing out the ‘o’, when will get the clue?

“Fine, I guess I’ll just drink this,” he looks at the two glass beakers in his hands, and pours the both of them into a much bigger glass container, “and die,”

You scoff, thinking he’s bluffing, “Yeah, yeah, go on,”

Of course, he’s bluffing because there is no absolute way that he’ll be mad enough to drink goddamn Acetonitrile, unless he wants his cardiovascular system, central nervous system, liver and kidneys to, I don’t know, stop working.

“I’ll ask this again, Y/N, just one date, will you go out with me?” he says, while picking up the glass container, closer to his face, and you actually want to play this game till the end. No way is he going to drink this.

“No,”

“Okay then,” he puts his lips on the container, and by now, you’ve actually started to get a bit scared. What if he does it? What if this crazy idiot actually drinks the fatal formula?

And then it happens. He drinks it. He fucking drinks it.

“What the fuck? Jungkook!”

“I’ll ask you again, will you go out with me?” he says after taking the biggest gulp ever. Is this his way of attempting suicide?

“Yes! Yes, oh god, I’ll go out with you!”

“Don’t say it like you’re doing me a favour,” he says, attempting to take another sip of the deadly liquid.

“No! I- Can you stop doing that? Stop drinking it! I’ll go out with you. In fact, I want to go out with you! Really!” you shout, trying to take the container away from him, scared shitless.

“Fuck, do I call 911?” you say, as you attempt to take your phone out of your 110 pound heavy bag. Then you hear him chuckle and throw away the remaining odourless, colourless solution.

“Relax, it was just water, I was just trying to scare you, but hey! You’ve agreed to a date with me, so it’s a win-win isn’t it?” Jungkook smiles sloppily, perching his elbow up on the table and letting his chin rest in his palm.

You can’t believe him. You really can’t.

You pretend to pick something up from the floor, “Professor, it seems you dropped something on the floor,”

“What?” he tries to look at your hand, to see what’s there, and just as you get his attention, you smack him across the face.

“Your common sense, you moron! What the hell were you thinking? Even if that was water, this could have traces of some really harmful chemicals and you ought to know better because you’re a goddamn teacher how could you be so careless you could have actually died-”

“But I didn’t, and now you’re going out with me,”

You can’t help the smile that creeps on your face, as your eyes glass up. You really had thought that he was going to die, or at the very least – harm himself severely.

“You’re so dumb, Jeon,” you say as you punch him, trying to suck your tears right back in – but they weren’t co-operating at all, and you let them fall down across your cheeks, causing Jungkook’s, breath to hitch up as soon as he sees them.

“Wait, wait, wait, are you crying? No, please don’t cry! Oh no, oh, I didn’t mean to… I was trying to make you laugh…” Jungkook says as his heart runs at 850 BMP a minute, trying to caress your face, trying to stop the tears from filling your eyes.

“What kind of sick-o would laugh at their professor dying? Are you mental?” you choke out, while trying your god-darn best to stop crying, because he was very much alive and right in front of you.

“I’m sorry, oh god, what should I do? What do girls like?” Jungkook was absolutely mortified. The first time he has ever talked to you – and he manages to make you cry. He totally royally fucked up. Big time.

He almost googled, ‘how to stop girl from crying’ and reading the wiki-how page, but decided against it, and hugged you – because that’s what his therapist told him to do when he hurts his loved ones. He would never – it wasn’t in him to physically ever hurt you. He couldn’t even bear the thought of that ever, and so when he did hug you, your sobbing decreased by a lot, and he felt much much better. Also, after holding you in his embrace, he realized how much he needed you to be next to him – to say Jungkook was touch starved is an extreme understatement, he loved the way he could you fit under him, the way your hair had a citrusy aroma, the way your arms hugged him back, it was comfortable. And Jungkook was positive that he could stay like this forever – if needed to.

You didn’t realize when he hugged you, but when he did, you were finally over the shock of thinking your crazy, dumb and hot professor had actually had some water instead of some deadly chemicals – and you weren’t the cause of his death. You wanted to hate him, but how could you? How could you just judge him upon some rumours that were just there to fit in the pieces of his live that he wouldn’t let other people know?

“I- I have a faculty meeting in five minutes,” you hear him speak, the vibration passing through his body – shaking you with it.

You clear your throat before letting go, and can’t help but feel the embarrassment rise out of you, in the form of red cheeks. You keep your head down, as he walks out the door of the lab, leaving you behind – but right before he leaves, he reminds you of your current situation, “Can’t wait for our date, sweets!”

Asshole.

From Unknown Number

[1:38 AM]

Y/N-ieeee

r u sleeping

this is kook btw

To Prof JK

[1:40 AM]

how did u get my num??????

also do u not THINK before assigning all this hw :(

From Prof JK

[1:41 AM]

u should be sleeping rn bby

all i assigned was some reading???? and some worksheets????

is it too much????

im so sry

To Prof JK

[1:50 AM]

well i do have a life outside of hw yknow

also im a huge procrastinator lmao

From Prof JK

[1:51 AM]

:( why r u taking so long to reply

r u busy

r u sleepy

also what life???? i’ve only ever seen u either at the library or the internet café down the street

whats my name saved in ur conatcts ;)))))

i saved urs as princess <3

To Prof JK

[1:54 AM]

it’s prof jk

From Prof JK

[1:55 AM]

thats boring :( im ur future bf now

also wanted to remind u the date is tomo so be ready

You don’t think before you change his name to Kook ‘Jungkook’.

To Jungkook

[1:57 AM]

oh yea how could i forget the fact that u tried to fake poison urself

also what?? date???

From Jungkook

[1:58 AM]

first of all, im so sry abt that i’ll buy u ur fav chocos

second of all, BRO

U LITERALLY SWORE U WOULD GO ON A DATE WIT ME

U PROMISED ME

To Jungkook

[2:01 AM]

i guess i changed my mind lololol

From Jungkook

[2:02 AM]

y????

look i know its weird some nuts prof asks u to go on a date with him

i know u don’t know me

but i know me

and i know i would do anything 4 u

i’ll be anything u want me to be

i can be smart

i can be funny too

i can try to cook for u maybe???? some pasta???

i could dance 4 u?????

To Jungkook

[2:06 AM]

dance????

no offense prof, but u seem so stiff

no way u can dance

From Jungkook

[2:08 AM]

is that a challenge…???

just tell me what u want and i’ll be that for u

To Jungkook

[2:09 AM]

u r dumb

From Jungkook

[2:10 AM]

i could be that

if u want me to be

come on, just ONE date i promise i’ll leave u alone after that if u don’t like it

To Jungkook

[2:13 AM]

mm… sis i guess u should start to figure something out then

bcz this aint good enough

see ya

From Jungkook

[2:14 AM]

ugh i cant force but :( pls?

istg itll be the best day of ur life

To Jungkook

[2:15 AM]

yea ok whatever u say im not going anywhere with u

night

From Jungkook

[2:16 AM]

goodnight!!!!!!

Don’t think too mucb about me

much*

To Jungkook

[2:18 AM]

In ur dreams

From Jungkook

[2:32 AM]

oh u do come in my dreams ;))

✓ Seen by princess <3

The next couple of days, you get some… gifts from a not so secret admirer. And you definitely didn’t change him name from ‘Prof Jeon’, to ‘Jungkook,’ to ‘Jungkookie <3’ in the span of 11 days. (And you most definitely didn’t feel giddy from inside every time you received a notification that read, ‘One New Message from Jungkookie <3’.

“You’re not very subtle, Professor Jeon,” you stay around after his class, watching him put away his books in is leather back. You can tell he was surprised by your action of staying back, but you had to put a stop to what was happening.

The next morning after he texted you for the first time, you had a Huge – with a capital H – bouquet of red roses, and you’ll admit you teared up a bit after looking at it, after all it was your first time receiving flowers from a boy (or man? (a man that was actual eye candy, but you’ll never admit that)).

Two days later,

From Jungkookie <3

[1:53 AM]

look outside

To Jungkookie <3

[1:54 AM]

dont tell me u r outside dumbass its like 2am

Lo and behold, Jungkook’s standing in the middle of the road, holding a single red rose and smiling. There’s a stark difference between his current self, and his demeanour during class – now the moonlight hits his unmade fluffy hair and cheeks, making him look years younger than he is. You can’t help but shout, ‘You idiot! You’ll catch a cold!’ while probably waking up several angry sleep deprived students in the process, but you can’t help but laugh at the way he dances for you. On this cold, lonely night, he brought you the warmth you didn’t know you needed.

It seemed that after that, Jungkook and you were the talk of the town, people would wait for both of you to get together, place bets on when you would finally say yes to him. On the other hand, you received candies from him, you had access to the teacher’s lounge coffee (which was honestly a huge plus point, now you could save five dollars on watery coffee, and have some actual caffeine), and he had pre-paid the 7/11 dude $500 in cash, so he wouldn’t even accept your payments now. The one thing that you actually appreciated him the most for was that he made you flashcards for Mr. Kang’s class (which you were failing, real bad), and while it wasn’t much, you still bumped you ‘F’ to a ‘D’, that just remained the highlight of your goddamn month.

To Jungkookie <3

[2:08 PM]

JUST GOT MY TEST BACK AND GUESS WHAT BITCH

From Jungkookie <3

[2:09 PM]

hi baby girl

:( i’ve noticed u r cursing a lot nowadays

To Jungkookie <3

[2:11 PM]

i’ve noticed u calling me baby lately but u don't see me whining so stfu

ALSO I DIDN’T FAIL

i mean i still kinda failed but it’s not a F

From Jungkookie <3

[2:13 PM]

im so proud of u, u r so so so smart

:( i wonder if u would let me teach u maybe???? tutor u???

✓ Seen 2:15 PM by princess <3

One of his much, much grander displays of affections was, well, kind of weird, he bought you a penguin. You were a proud, and extremely happy mother of a cute penguin named Otis.

From Jungkook <3

[9:07 AM]

ok but what would u want as a pet

To Jungkook <3

[10:38 AM]

penguin!!!!

You knew it must’ve cost him a fortune, and his job as a professor must not be enough, but you had always dreamed of being able to hold the certificate of your baby, and be able to monitor it, and be able to be the one to feed it (well, not literally). And he had to pay for his own grad school fees, which must be a total nightmare on its own – here you were, in his class, waiting for him to pack up so you could maybe pay him back a little?

By no means could you afford a $3000 penguin, but you could maybe ask him if there’s something you could do?

“So, Prof, how would you like me to re-pay you?” you honestly half expected a sex joke on his part – maybe because he looks like a fuckboy on steroids and snorts a lot of protein powder before hitting the gym.

“Um, maybe a hug?”

Oh. Ohhhh. Oh. Unexpected. Okay. Calm yourself down.

“A hug?” you tried not to look at his face, because you knew if you did, it would be hard, way too hard to be able to resist him. You knew he was all dangerous, and bad boy and what not – but, this man, the one with the bunny smile and the fluffy hair, and the one who smelled more like freshly baked bread rather than the axe cologne spray you had imagine, he wasn’t a gang member or a delinquent. He was simply asking for love.

“Why a hug?”

“Just… never really hugged anyone properly,” Jungkook knew he wasn’t asking for much. He could’ve asked for a date, or a kiss, or just anything, but all he wanted was to hold you.

It had been a hard week for him. Being a grad student wasn’t easy no matter how many hours of study you pull in, and no matter how much knowledge you attained – while he was way better off than his peers – he knew he couldn’t afford the failure – he was just starting to feel less and less like a human, and more like a robot. Also, it wasn’t easy to be an undergraduate professor – in fact, it was fucking hell. Your peers, and the entire fucking batch was just so hopelessly dumb – he doesn’t want to admit but he even cringes at some of the mistakes you made (who mixes up chemicals! They’re the most difficult to mess up!) and he hated it when he would just have to give you a ‘C,’ instead of the ‘A,’ you actually deserved (because you’re so smart and he can see it! But you’re also so stubborn, sigh).

Lately, it seems like without his therapist, life just seemed more difficult. When he looks at the broken pencils, the pieces of wood sitting on his table, the teared up paper, and the headache he was constantly in – he’s taken back to the 12 year old Jungkook who couldn’t control his hands, who did nothing but hurt those around him. He looks at his hands, he hates them, they hurt people without his permission.

Sometimes, he would cry, because why couldn’t he simply control himself? Why did his anger, the red in his eyes, the strength of his arm always win over his subconscious and ability to think correct? Why couldn’t he simply re-do a question he got wrong instead of breaking pencils and tearing up everything apart? Why were there numerous holes in the wall covered by posters? Why did this animalistic rage always win over him? Why him?

Jungkook spends the night dreaming of actually being able to help patients, and operating instead of simply… being useless.

So, in that moment, he just wanted comfort. Simple as that. He doesn’t recall anyone ever hugging him in his life, maybe half sided hugs from coaches and professor, or the ones that Tae forces onto him, but other than that, Jungkook has never had an interest in physical contact with people – always thinking it was way showing vulnerability, but with you, he just wanted to be normal.

He didn’t want you to know him as the weird, crazy idiot with anger management issues, or the druggie who smokes weed 24/7, he just wanted you to know him as the real Jungkook he is. The real Jungkook who has iron man socks, and has a fear of microwaves.

So when you do hug him, and feel his arms by your side, and you can’t help but want to stay this way. Surprisingly, it isn’t you who breaks the hug, and you actually want more of it, more of that soft feel of his black shirt against your cheek, more of his hard arms closing you in, more of his warmth.

You clear your throat, and… you don’t know what to do.

“So, um, thanks y’know f-for Otis. You really didn’t have to, I mean I appreciate it I really do, it was more than anything anyone’s every done for me y’know? So like, um, yeah, I uh-“ you mentally curse yourself, just stop speaking already.

“You named it Otis? That’s such a basic penguin name,” Jungkook chuckles, hoping to make you even slightly mad, and the fact that you looked at him with an expression of shock and anger just added to his satisfaction.

Just like that, the awkward layer in the air no longer lingers, and settles to soft banter, something you enjoyed.

“Excuse me? It’s like, the cutest name ever, and whoever thinks against that is a total meathe-“

“I’ve never seen someone be angry and look adorable at the same time,”

“Well, mama didn’t raise no bitch, I will adorably kick your ass, Jungkook,”

“On a first name basis now? Guess I’m making progress,”

“I hate you so much,”

And now twelve minutes and seventeen seconds later, here you both were, sitting on the bench outside the local 7/11, sharing an egg and ham sandwich.

By no means did Jungkook ever mean to have his first lunch with you like this, he had planned it all out, first date, 100 day anniversary, his first ‘I love you,’ speech, the gift for your birthday in January – he didn’t expect to sit on the side of the road at the old, rusty (and really uncomfortable) bench, eating a one dollar sandwich.

You make fun of Jungkook after his high five got rejected by a passing by 5 year old-ish kid with his mom.

“He hates me,” Jungkook pouts and looks at his left hand with such sorrow and anguish that you can’t help but let the laughter bubbling in your throat let out.

“He was like 5,”

“Still, he totally ignored me as if I didn’t exist,”

You don’t even realise three hours pass by, as both, you and Jungkook (two nerds united together), talk about politics, how absolutely terrible Mr. Kang is (you laughed for three solid minutes after Jungkook tried to mimic his sneer), he basically forces you to let him tutor you in anatomy, because he just can’t see you not get an A next time (you scoff and act as if you’re doing him a favour by saying yes, while from inside you screaming happily only because now your grades will be much, much higher – you’re definitely not happy because you’ll have to spend more time with the funny, cute, really nice and just overall hot guy that smells so good).

“Oh my God,” Jungkook says as he extends an arm and feels the light rain on his palm, “it’s probably going to rain soon,”

You don’t pay too much heed until 5 minutes later, it’s turns into an intense round of teardrops on the concrete under you, and you’re left to whine about how you’ll walk till your dorm – and there was no way you were going to get a taxi because you literally lived two streets away from the store.

“Let’s dance in the rain,” Jungkook runs into the narrow street, without a care in the world, and you’re left contemplating whether you should join him or not.

“I thought you were sort of mental, but now I’m fully sure your mom dropped you on the head when you were a baby,” you shout from the bench, hoping he can hear your voice despite the loud splat of each raindrop when it meets the ground.

“Join me,” he says as he tries to pull your hand lightly, hoping you would come on your own, and while you haven’t had fun in the rain since you were a child, you can’t help but want to relive the feeling of the cold water hitting you, not knowing where you end up at.

Jungkook ends up leading you, and you both end up doing a sloppy couple’s dance with his hands on your waist, and yours on his shoulders. You look into his eyes and see a childish charm, you see an affection and a purity in his smile, in the cute not so perfect teeth he possessed, and you can’t help but smile. You had never had things come to you, you were never used to this, never used you things happening to you, for you.

After a good fifteen minutes of fooling around, he ends up walking you back to the dorm – both of you a mess, with clothes clinging to your bodies, webbed fingers, wet hair and sore cheeks from smiling too much. Somehow, you didn’t want to be apart from the boy who waved you goodbye, and you don’t end up closing the door until he goes down the stairs and you can’t see his figure anymore.

To Jungkookie <3

[6:17 PM]

im gonna have to use an entire tub of conditioner to make my hair not feel like hay

PART TWO WILL COME OUT SOON XO (there will only be 3 parts).

also, just so everyone knows I absolutely adore jin, no bashing towards him, as once @kpopyandere said, and I quote: For real the closest I’ve ever been to believing in god is seeing Kim seokjin’s face. Only something divine could’ve created that.

I absolutely loved writing this even though it seems like it’s all over the place kind of lol. Been super insecure of my writing lately 🥺❤️ give me validation 🤩 jk but do let me know if you liked something or if u liked something in particular or idk also lmao sry there's no smut ;))))) wait for part two

taglist: @blkjmn @patpus @vantedollz @letmebeyour-sun @zeharilisharaban @hpnjrph @livewittykid @yzkyzkuniverse @nochuactivate @international-kpopfan @gvksp4ce @girlontheblock @kisskoos @jeonkooksgirl @hytibm @jooniescupcakes @teresaisla @lurkerarmy

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #bts jungkook #jungkook #jungkook x reader #jungkook x oc #bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenario #bts imagine #bts imagines #bts reader insert #bts preference #jungkook scenario #jungkook reaction #jungkook fluff

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sweetness47 · 3 years

Text

Fixing His Regret

Pairing Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1731

Warnings: not many, sex scene, mentions of losing a loved one, being widowed while pregnant, pining, I think there might be one or two swear words? Rated 18+ just in case

This is for @idreamofplaid and her They Belong To Us Now challenge

Prompt #30: “Stay here tonight.” (paired with) Time travel/fix it

Also for SPN Fluff Bingo 2021 square: Childhood sweethearts

And for SPN Kink Bingo 2021 square: Saran Wrap

📷

Dean smiled down from heaven as he watched Sam have a family and enjoy life. It was what he always wanted for his brother. Truth be told, it was what he’d always wished for himself, but the one person he’d wanted for that role was the one person he’d run from long ago.

YN had been one of his friends growing up. Even with all the shit that had stormed through his life, she was the one thing that always kept him going. When his dad would drag them all over, he always wrote to her, and she would write back. When they were close enough to visit in person, she would often keep him company while he was watching Sam.

He'd run because she’d confessed to having feelings for him one night. They were 16. Instead of coming clean and confessing he was in love with her, he’d turned and run away. He stopped communicating with her. Stopped writing to her. All because he was afraid of his feelings. He was afraid that he would make her a widow from hunting. That was no life for someone as amazing as YN. She deserved better. She deserved stability. Marriage to a hunter wouldn’t give her that. She was better off without him. Or at least that’s what he told himself.

But he always thought about her. About the hurt look on her face when he’d walked away from her confession. He could clearly remember the tears pooling in her eyes, and for one second his resolve nearly crumbled. But he maintained that he was doing the right thing, and shut the door on that part of his life forever.

That time he’d tried playing house with Lisa, when Sam had died, it was ok. He filled the emptiness that Sam’s death had left in his chest, but often he wished he’d been able to find YN, beg for her forgiveness, praying that she wasn’t married to someone else.

But he never pursued her. He’d hurt her. He hated himself for destroying her heart like that.

“What are you thinking about Dean?”

Jack’s voice startled Dean. He jumped, then relaxed when he saw Jack approach. “A girl I once knew. She was amazing. Smart, funny, talented, and one of the few friends I had growing up.”

Jack was intrigued. “What happened to her?”

Dean hung his head in shame. “I walked away from her confession of love. I didn’t want her wrapped up in the life of a hunter.”

“Did you tell her that? Did you even ask her if that was a deal breaker? Or did you just assume she was better off.”

Jack’s words stopped Dean in his thoughts. He really hadn’t asked YN how she felt. She knew what his dad did, she’d always known since the first day. But she was too good for this life. She deserved better, didn’t she? He’d done the right thing when he’d walked away, right?

Jack shook his head. “You didn’t ask her. Do you want that chance back? I can give you a second chance Dean. If you want it.”

Dean’s jaw dropped at Jack’s offer. “Seriously?”

Jack nodded.

Dean thought about it. How many times had he wished for a second chance? How many times had he wished he could go back and change that moment? Too many to count, that’s for certain.

“Do it.” Dean turned to Jack, who nodded again, and snapped his fingers.

Dean blinked, and as his eyesight adjusted, he found himself at a local diner he frequented a lot as a teenager, especially with YN, who happened to be sitting across from him. He remembered this day. It was the day before her confession to him.

He promised himself that this time, no matter what, he was not walking away. He was determined to stay, to keep her close, to cherish every moment he had with YN. She had been his world, and he would be an idiot to let her go a second time.

So the next evening, when she confessed she had feelings for him, he took her in his arms and admitted, “I love you too YN. A lot more than I ever thought possible.”

That was the moment they shared their first kiss. They became near inseparable after that night. When Dean dropped out of high school to keep his focus on Sam, he made sure to keep YN a part of their lives. She asked him to prom, stating there was no one else she’d rather spend the night with, and he happily said yes.

The first time they spent the night together, it was new for both of them, both physically, and mentally. Their relationship hit new heights. Dean never pushed YN, always the perfect gentleman. It was she who made the suggestion for him to stay.

The night of prom, after the dancing and celebrating were done, Dean had taken her home, like he always did after a date. She invited him in, and he accepted. Her dad was out for the weekend, having accompanied Dean’s dad on a hunt, so it was just the two of them. They cuddled and kissed, till the wee hours of the morning.

When Dean suggested he call it a night, and stood to leave, she caught his arm. “Dean? Don’t go. Stay here tonight. With me.”

Dean swallowed hard. “You sure?” he rasped.

YN nodded. “Definitely.”

Not another word was spoken as she took his hand and lead him to her bedroom. The frilly pink décor hardly occupied his thoughts. Instead, he moved to undress her, his hands shaking, mouth suddenly dry. YN was mirroring his movements, her own nerves showing as she fumbled with his clothes. When they finally free of the offending garments, he let out a low whistle.

“Beautiful.” He whispered.

YN blushed. “Back at ya.” She countered.

Dean leaned down to kiss her then, the passion burning through them as they slowly began to explore each other. Dean’s hand travelled to the sweet junction between her legs, and growled at the wetness he found. YN got a similar reaction when her hand brushed up against his rock solid erection.

Tumbling on to the bed, Dean began stroking YN’s core. She bucked and moaned as his fingers worked her sensitive nub, then slipped inside her tight channel. Her cries echoed off the walls as her walls clamped down on his fingers, her juices spilling free, coating the bed and his hand.

He moved over her. That’s when they both wondered the same thing. Protection.

“Do you have a condom?” she asked.

Dean shook his head. Shit!

YN’s face lit up suddenly. “Wait here. I have an idea.”

She raced out of the room, only to return moments later with a roll of Saran Wrap from the kitchen. Dean chuckled. “Nice.”

She tore off a piece and brazenly took initiative, wrapping his thick cock in the plastic. Then she was back on the bed, and Dean brought her legs up to wrap around his waist. She felt the blunt head as it pushed and stretched at her slick channel, past the virgin barrier, filling her. He kissed away her tears that silently fell, then he stilled, letting her get used to the feeling of him being inside.

When he moved again, she gasped as she came hard, the sensations overwhelming her. Dean thrust in and out, consuming and owning every part of her, body and soul, vowing that from this moment on, she was his, and only his.

The night and most of the next morning, Dean and YN explored their newfound status, making good use of the plastic wrap. They both giggled at the half gone roll as they finally placed it back into the kitchen pantry.

The following week, they spent near every moment together they could find, mostly because they couldn’t get enough of each other. For a graduation present, Dean managed to acquire the most stunning engagement ring, and presented it to her during the grad dinner. People cheered and clapped for the couple, but most importantly, YN’s father and Dean’s dad approved.

They married the following year. YN hunted with the boys, lived with them (obviously), sharing in their triumphs and their sorrows.

Their third year of marriage, YN presented Dean with a gift, their first child, a revelation she’d made known on Father’s day. It was the only child they chose to bring into the world before it was righted again by the brothers, and Jack.

Shortly after that day, YN found herself with child again. Her son was 12 now, and she was thrilled with the idea of surprising him again.

But that day never came.

YN was found herself widowed, and pregnant, after losing the love of her life in what should have been an easy outing for the boys. Sam and YN hugged and cried, as did John, Dean’s son, and made sure to give him a proper funeral fitting for a hunter.

Sam filled in as a male role model for John, while also finding love for himself. YN’s children, and Sam’s, were good friends as well as cousins.

Sam outlived YN by two years. He was there to keep her company when her son and daughter couldn’t. But the entire family were present when YN took her final breath. Both her son and daughter told her it was ok, that she could go and finally be with Dean.

When Dean saw his YN standing on the bridge, he ran to her and picked her up into his arms, swinging her around and showering her with kisses and tears. He praised her over and over about how well she’d done raising John and Mary, but more important, he let her know how happy he was to have her to hold again.

When Dean saw Jack standing there, looking at the two embracing, Dean smiled and hugged Jack, thanking him for giving him his heart back.

Jack just smiled and faded away, leaving the lovebirds to do some serious catching up.

@idreamofplaid @akshi8278 @drkcnry67 @lyarr24

#spnfluffbingo #spnkinkbingo #they belong to us now

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casmybelovedass · 4 years

Text

The Destiel Folder: Season 5

[Season 4 here]

Episode 1:

Dean is visibly upset about Cas' death, especially at (6:07), and Zachariah notices. From here on, we have a progressive worse reaction from Dean to each of Castiel's deaths

Dean calls Cas a 'friend', again sounding very upset (8:20)

We also get a parallel between Dean and Sam: "I learned that from my friend Cas, you son of a bitch!" and "I learned that from Ruby." (9:10) ICWAW, this parallel would implicate romantic subtext

Cas comes back, bringing top energy onto Zachariah, and Dean just... checks him out (32:43) [this is a frequent thing by the way, I'm on S10 right now, it is]

Episode 2:

I'm so fuckin sorry but I'm laughing too hard at this: D"God" C"Yes" D"God" C"Yes!" (4:09) guys, don't sex-talk in front of Sam and Bobby

"I rebelled, and I did it, all of it, for you." (4:54)

Dean gives in to Cas' top energy "Dean, give it to me." (5:53) shit, guys, enough sex-talk

Episode 3:

The 'personal space scene'. Dean, love, if someone is in your personal bubble, and you don't want them there, you don't stand there for 10 seconds while flicking your gaze from their eyes to their lips TWICE (6:04) ICWAW, these scene would be read as full of sexual tension

Dean here compares himself and Cas to Thelma & Louise, from a movie with HELLA lesbian subtext. And the way he looks at Cas for 7 seconds, tongue between his teeth and just... this fucking look (7:37)

You don't look at friends that way. You don't.

"I need your help, because you're the only one who'll help me. Please". (7:58) Cas trusts Dean will help him while no other would, and he is right... also Dean keeps glancing at his lips

The way Dean fixs Cas' tie and collar, so domestic. (10:34) [This will parallel in 10x05 when Dean messes up musical!Castiel's tie for it to be a legit costume.] Also, the whole police station scene is full of Old married couple moments

"There are two things that I know for certain. One, Bert and Ernie are gay." And then they were voted best chemestry couple like Bert and Ernie. Just saying. (16:23) "Two, you are not gonna die a virgin. Not on my watch... let's go."... and Cas just follows Dean like nothing, but later on...

... Cas is beyond terrified at the idea of being intimate with a woman (11:24),

tho he followed Dean with no problem. ... Did... did he think Dean was making an offer?

He chugs down a beer in fear, poor baby

And he is so jumpy I'm dying

Dean admits Cas is the only one who has made him laugh for real in years (20:58), also, shoulder hug, and Cas, who was on the verge of tears a moment earlier, is smiling and comfortable now.

"Don't look at me, it was his idea." (26:57) the look Cas gives Dean, they're so fucking #MARRIED

"Today you're my little bitch." "... What he said!" Dean is impressed and amused by Cas' smugness (and top energy) (31:55) Basically "Well, mark me down as scared and horny!"

Dean understands how Cas feels, and wants to help. He says he feels good with him "I've had more fun with you in the past 24h that I've had with Sam in years... and you're not that much fun." (36:06) Dean doesn't want to be alone, didn't want Cas to leave.

Episode 4:

Dean sounds and looks like a teenager on the phone with their crush, teasing Cas while smiling softly (1:22). Also "I'll just... wait here then." (2:15)

Even as a mortal, Cas stuck with Dean through the apocalypse, living in pain, chugging down drugs, but never leaving Dean's side. Being his second during hunts. Having only each other

And this Cas can recognize this Dean is not his own only by glancing at him for a moment (... by looking at his dick?!) (18:37)

Dean is stunned and concerned about apocalypse!Cas and how his life turned out

Apocalypse!Cas sits like Dean. Aww, they've been rubbing off on each other [yeah, I bet] (22:27)

"I like past you!" and that smile. So sweet and nostalgic (25:35)

This whole scene (23:48). They are so #MARRIED

Dean is concerned about Cas doing drugs, being basically depressed and living like shit (28:03)

Cas saves Dean again. "We had an appointment." "...Don't ever change." and the way they stare at each other (38:49) look at those smiles and how longingly Cas looks at Dean

Episode 8:

Not a destiel moment, but Dean is totally BI: (12:04); "Sure" (12:42); "What makes Dr Sexy, SEXY, is that he wears cowboy boots!" (12:57); and Dean loves cowboys, just saying

Is... is Dean thinking about Cas being pretty? And about the fact that a creepy guy just called his angel 'pretty'? (20:26)

First thing Dean requests Gabe does is to bring Cas back, threatening him

Episode 9:

Dean reacting to Damien and Barnes being a couple is... LOL (36:27) and after that (38:40), he is on his own, fiddling with his keys, smiling to himself. And when Sam asks if he is okay, he responds "Yeah, you know? I think I'm good." while still smiling to himself. Is he happy about an queer man portraying him, about seeing himself in a confident, openly queer man in a relationship? What else could it be?

Episode 13:

Dean gets more and more worried when Cas gets/is hurt (9:45)(38:02). Also, he got Cas a honeymoon suite. Wow. How sweet.

Episode 14:

The phone call scene. The stares, the tension... look at this shit (10:00)

Dean, stop checking out Cas. You're working. But seriously, look at him. He likes his roughness. AND AGAIN WITH THE LIPS STARING (11:02)

Dean and Cas, after being touched by a cherub, stand shoulder-to-shoulder close to each other, in front of a bi-coloured window (13:26-13:33) I MEAN- Also, Dean, you're staring at a naked man's dong... just saying (13:33-13:36)... stop that, be a professional

Is this the first wink Dean gives at Cas? (14:37) for real? With a cherub in the room? Wow.

(16:16) "Where did he go?" "I belive you upset him." Look at Cas during this scene. #MARRIED

Cas asks Dean where his Famine-induced-hunger is, why he seems unaffected by it... and Dean stares at Cas, then the burger he is holding, then back at him, like he has everything he could want right there, in his Baby (29:22)

Episode 16:

... I'm sorry, but... did Cas really have to MOAN Dean's name to get his attention? (5:24)

I believe this is the first time we ever hear Dean say the words "I love you" (14:38-28:09), and he is saying them to Sam. The only other time we hear him say it is to his mother in 12x22. And the only other person he was supposed to say those words to was, in fact, Cas in 8x17. Let that sink in.

"You son of a bitch." Dean's been rubbing off on Cas, and this is not the only line he has picked up from Dean (38:29)

Episode 17:

This is such a sweet scene. Cas is showing himself weak once again, and Dean sympathises with him, reassures him, confides in him. How sweet. (30:17) ICWAW, this would be seen as a romantic bonding moment

Episode 18:

Cas legit looks like an angry wife. Look how pissed he is at Dean (6:19) #MARRIED

This is such a #MARRIED scene, with Cas being pissy at Dean "being a coward". Also "Yeah, you know what? Blow me, Cas!" and his look after that, like "Does... does he actually want me to?" (13:22)

and this is not the last 'sexual invitation' Dean makes Cas. In fact, minutes later...

"Cas, not for nothing, but, the last person who looked at me like that... I got laid. *wink*" ... just... that (17:53). ICWAW, people would believe this was flirtatious, SHAMELESS, teasing

Look at that FULL TOP MODE tho

"I gave everything for you, and this is what you give to me?" (25:28) Cas is not just angry at Dean for giving up on the plan, but for giving up on life, on them. "So you could surrender to them?" (25:17) not "So you can let them win". It could've been phrased that way, but this is not about the angels winning. It's about Dean giving up on them. Cas is 'cause Dean would be selfishly leaving them

Cas starts taking off his tie and... Dean just stares (31:46). Moments later, we find out Cas totally took his shirt off in front of the boys to make the banishing simbol on his chest, and by the way Dean was STARING when it was only a tie, I bet he either gawked or averted his eyes. Either way, GAY

Cas prefers to die rather than watch Dean fail and die himself (31:55) Also, Sam still thinks of Dean as a hero who can do no wrong, while Cas recognizes his flaws and weaknesses. He knows Dean

Zachariah grabs Dean by the collar and gets in his face. Dean does nothing but flinch a little, mantaining his strong appearance. He only submits and looks overwhelmed when Cas does it (37:50)

Episode 19:

Cas is priority to Dean over Adam. He's more family to him than his actual blood (5:29)

Episode 21:

Cas is basically human, bloody, hurt, powerless and weak. First thing he does? Reach out for Dean (3:16)

Cas is still weak and powerless, and took a bus for miles, just to get back to Dean (12:35)

Episode 22:

Moments before basically going and kill himself, Dean focuses on Cas instead of Bobby, his father figure (24:35)

Cas is on the verge of tears at the thought of Dean dying (25:20)

We know Cas can heal without having to touch the body, but we always see him reach for contact with Dean (35:52) [That's why in S15, it hurts to see Cas not touching Dean while healing him. It feels unnatural]

Dean loves cowboys, and associates Cas to a sheriff. Cas, knowing that, smiles softly at the idea(37:30). Also, Dean obviously doesn't want Cas to leave, and tears up when he does

[Season 6>>]

194 notes · View notes

dreamljve · 4 years

Text

A Family Visit (Neville Longbottom)

A/N: hey yall! ive never wrote fanfic before so please go easy on me. suggestions/criticisms are encouraged as i literally wrote this for a class & want a decent grade. no warnings, just a sad neville but its a nice ending. also, i should note that im reading the series for the first time rn and i just started book 5 and this was inspired by the scene where dumbledore tells harry about neville’s parents in gof. im like 99% sure that you cant get to the hospital via floo powder but it was just easier to write it that way and i was already way over page limit. so... yeah. floo powder. just accept it.

Summary: Neville visits his parents the day of the Yule Ball.

word count: 2745 :)

With the end of the term nearing and the snow covering the ground, Neville once again was met with the bittersweet feeling of Christmas break. In the back of his Potion’s class with Professor Snape, Neville was counting the minutes down. Snape’s lesson was boring as usual, he was saying something about a Pepperup Potion but Neville couldn’t care less. This was his last class of the term. He planned to stay at Hogwarts over Christmas break for the Yule Ball, albeit his date was a third year, Ginny Weasley. Almost as if he could read his mind, Snape interrupted his daydreaming.

“Mr. Longbottom, can you repeat what I just told the class?” Snape squinted at him.

“Er-” Neville pursed his lips together and scratched the back of his head.

“I figured,” Snape rolled his eyes and his lips curled into a smirk. “I said that 12 inches of parchment will be due when you return from break. But that’ll be 18 inches for you, Longbottom. And 10 points from Gryffindor.”

The Slytherins in the front of the class snickered. Neville merely nodded. There was no use in arguing Snape, it’ll only end in more homework.

“Don’t worry, you could use the extra practice.” Malfoy spit at him. Snape glanced at the blonde boy with a disapproving look but said nothing.

“Why don’t you bug off, Malfoy?” Harry shot at him, standing up.

“Are you going to stop me, Potter?” Crabbe and Goyle laughed with Draco. Harry felt his face heating up. He was sick of Snape playing favorites. He allows the Slytherins to do whatever they please since he’s head of the Slytherin house.

“Sit down, Mr. Potter. Unless you want extra work.”

As if on cue, the bell rang. Harry grabbed his bag and walked over to Neville.

“Hey, you alright? Don’t mind them. The lousy gits don’t have anything better to do.”

“Hey, yeah, I’m okay. At least we’re free for the next two weeks.” Neville says half-heartedly as he stands up and walks out of the classroom with Harry. The two boys walked through the corridor towards the Gryffindor common room.

“Hey, I’ve got to talk to Dumbledore quickly. I’ll see you later though, yeah?” Harry says with a small smile.

“Right then, see you later.” Neville replies.

Neville watched as Harry jogged away. He wondered what he was going to talk to Dumbledore about. Neville turned and was met with the fat lady painting.

“Password?” She asks with her arms crossed.

“Oh, er-” Neville always struggled with passwords.

“Fortuna Major.” Ron says from behind him.

Neville mutters a small “thanks” and steps in through the portrait. He had planned to hang out in the common room, but soon realizes that his roommates were all in there. Neville hasn’t had a moment to himself since Summer so he decided to go upstairs to his room. He says a quick hello to Seamus and Dean as he walks past them. He went up the stairs and found the door to his dormitory. He enters and shuts it quickly, breathing a sigh of relief. He walks over to his bed and falls backwards, staring up at the ceiling. He started thinking about the holidays and how much he hated Professor Snape and his greasy hair. What kind of teacher just bullies students? Frustrated, Neville turns to lay on his side. He started thinking about how he was meeting his Gran the next day to go visit his parents. Neville doesn’t think about his parents often. How could he? He doesn’t remember them, thinking about them wouldn’t help anything.

But he still allows himself to think about them, from time to time. Neville’s Gran is a stern lady. Growing up, she worried that Neville was a squib, as he didn’t show early signs of magic very often. She often berated him, telling him he didn’t live up to his father’s honor. Neville couldn’t help but believe her.

Neville was proud of his parents, though. They were Aurors, their job was to fight against the Dark Arts He smiled at the thought of them being praised for their noble work. They were well respected amongst their peers, Neville wondered what it felt like. He reaches in his pocket and pulls out his wand. It was his father’s. Neville runs his fingers along the wood and the not-so-intricate designs of it. Even though it doesn’t look like much, he knows it's powerful. Neville’s father had fought in the first Wizarding War and was an Auror with that very wand. He holds the wand a little tighter and brings it to his chest. Neville fought back the urge to cry. It was unfair. He never got to know his parents, they were good people who only wanted the best for everyone, wizards and muggles alike. Neville bit his lip to stop it from quivering and he sat up. He set his wand next to him on the quilt his grandmother gave him a few Christmases ago. He smooths the banket and stands up. It was getting late and none of his roommates were showing up, so Neville changed into his pajamas and turned on some music. He wanted to practice his dancing skills for the Yule Ball, so he started to pretend to hold a girl and danced to the music. He furrowed his eyebrows as he tried to get the footwork correct. After a few minutes, he heard a knock at the door. Startled, he quickly gathers himself and says “come in,” and Harry walks through the door.

Harry was quiet, he merely smiled and nodded at Nevile before grabbing his nightwear. His eyes had an apologetic look, as if he had just found out something sad about Neville. Harry is the only one who gets it, really. Both of their parents were taken down by the same cause, the only difference being that Harry’s are actually dead. Neville felt a shameful relief wash over him with that thought, he bowed his head and scratched his neck. He was getting tired, and decided to lie in bed. He turned off the lamp next to his bed and closed his eyes. He finally started drifting away as he heard Seamus and Dean enter their room.

The next morning, Neville is woken up by the sun and sound of birds outside their dorm. He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, sat up, and stretched. Seamus, Ron, Dean, and Harry were all sleeping yet. Neville gets dressed and goes to the Great Hall, where he is met with Christmas and winter decorations. There are silver and blue streamers hanging about the Hall, as well as snowflakes covering the walls and hanging from the ceiling. The Christmas tree by the teacher’s table was decorated with white lights, fake snow, and a shiny snowflake on the top. There were presents under the tree wrapped in white and blue wrapping paper. “Bet they’re empty,” Neville thinks to himself, slightly chuckling. He finds his seat at the Gryffindor table and begins to eat his breakfast alone. There was a group of second years at the end of the table, laughing amongst themselves. Neville is already finished with his food when his roommates find their way to the Hall. It was 8:00 and he had to meet his grandmother in an hour. He was meeting his Gran in Hogsmeade to go to St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries in London. Neville and his grandmother had to have a special meeting with Dumbledore his first year about his parents. Of course, Dumbledore knew his parents and their tragic fate. He made a special exception for him this year, allowing him to leave to visit his parents for the day and come back for the Yule Ball this evening.

Neville ventured back to his dorm, muttering a quick “Fortuna Major” to the portrait of the fat lady guarding the Gryffindor common room. He stepped through and was met with Fred and George Weasley in the common room, sitting by the fireplace talking about something secretly. As soon as he enters his room, he grabs a coat and wand and lays them on his bed. Every time Neville visits his parents, he secretly hopes they’ll remember him, even though it isn’t possible. Neville felt his hand involuntarily tighten into a fist, his nails digging into his palm. He patiently sat for what felt like hours but was realistically 20 minutes or so when he finally decided to head down to meet Dumbledore. He grabs his things and puts his wand in his pocket with his right fist still clenched. He felt his nails break the skin of palm as he got more anxious with every step. When he finally meets Dumbledore at the stairs by the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Neville wondered why he was standing so close to the one-eyed witch statue.

“Good morning, Neville.” Dumbledore greets him with a soft smile.

“Good morning, Professor.” He returns the smile, but quickly lets it fade.

“I hope you keep this between you and me,” Dumbledore says cooly, “Dissendium.” Dumbledore says seemingly at the witch as he taps the hump of the statue with his wand. The hump opens just wide enough for a small person to get through.

“This will take you to the cellar of Honeydukes. Be back by 6:30 so you have enough time to get ready for the Ball. Have a good time, Neville.” Dumbledore smiles at him. Neville thanks him and wonders how many other people knew about this secret. He quickly snaps out of it and enters the passage, giving a final smile and nod towards his headmaster. The passage was cold and rather gross, so he just walked forward until he got to the entrance of the cellar. He opens the latch and enters Honeydukes, trying to be quiet as he enters the door of the store. He quickly exits Honeydukes. He walks to meet his grandmother at The Leaky Cauldron. He gives his father’s mother a faint smile and a quick hello.

“Glad to see you made it here safely, Neville,” she brushes off some dirt on his shoulder, “Are you ready to go?” His grandmother asks him.

Neville merely nods, he was never ready to go. He wonders how she is ready. Neville never knew his parents, so there weren’t many memories to miss, but his grandmother raised his father. Every year she takes Neville to visit but never says anything about how she is feeling about it. Neville furrows his eyebrows and looks at his only parental figure. For a second, he feels remorse for her. Losing your parents is difficult, but losing your child has to be the worst. Neville says a silent prayer to Merlin that he’ll never have to go through that pain himself.

Neville’s grandmother finds a floo system and pulls out floo powder. She hands him a handful of it.

“Do you want to go first?” She asks him.

“No, that’s alright. Have at it.” He just wanted a second without her to compose himself.

She nods and says “St. Mungo’s Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries”, throwing the powder down at her feet and vanishing.

Neville takes a deep breath and repeats her actions. He feels his stomach twist and turn as he travels. He tries to not focus on it by remembering it’ll end within seconds. And with that, Neville feels his feet fall flat on the floor and he opens his eyes. Letting his eyes adjust to the lighting, Neville subtle forwards a bit.

“Can you manage to stay on your feet, please?” His grandmother remarks.

“Er- yeah. Sorry.” He says lightly.

His grandmother shakes her head as they find the reception desk.

“Who are you here to see?” The receptionist asks. She had long blonde hair and enticing eyes. Neville stares at her for a second and thinks about how she reminds him of Fleur Delacour, the champion from Beauxbatons.

“Frank and Alice Longbottom.” Neville’s grandmother says with a slight smile.

“Right, just down that hall to the left.” His grandmother’s smile is returned as she points to a corridor to the right of the desk.

Neville thanks the woman and thinks about how she probably has her parents. She properly grew up with parents who knew who she was, with a grandmother who doesn't resent her. Brushing that thought aside, Neville and his Gran walk down the hallway that seems to be getting longer with every step. Eventually they find the door labeled “Visitation Room”. Neville exchanges looks with his grandmother as she reluctantly grabs the door knob, turning it. She pushes the door open and gestures for Neville to enter first, closing the door behind them. Neville felt his heart beat faster as his eyes found his parents. They’re sitting at a round table whispering to one another. Neville and his grandmother find their seats, sitting across from them. The boy’s parents stare at them with empty eyes.

“Hi Frank,” His grandmother smiles lightly, “Hi Alice.”

“Hi mom and dad.” Neville looks at them with gentle eyes with a small smile.

“Hello.” Frank replies with wide eyes.

“Hello.” Alice says, turning her attention to Frank.

“How are you guys?” Neville’s grandmother asks.

“We’re good. Although it is cold in here.” Alice says, hugging herself.

Neville’s parents usually complained about the cold when he visited during Christmas. The hospital does get significantly colder as the weather starts to turn. Do they think crazy people don’t need heat?

“Do you want to wear my jacket?” Neville starts to take his arms out of his sleeves, maintaining eyes on his mother.

She nods and smiles at him, and Neville returns the smile. He stands up and walks to his mom, wrapping his jacket around her and kissing the top of her head. She looks up at him and smiles wider, and intertwines her fingers together. Neville’s dad thanks him and places an arm around her. Neville finds his seat again, earning a pat on the back from his Gran. Moments like this are few and far in between, making it all the more special. Neville doesn’t have many happy memories with his family, so making both of his parents and Gran happy was an accomplishment in his eyes.

After almost two hours of mindless small talk, Neville looks at his Gran and realizes it’s time to go. His parents can only handle so much per visit, so when they start getting antsy and irritable they know it’s time to leave them be. Neville stands up and brushes himself off, holding an arm out to help his Gran stand up. Frank and Alice stand up as well, mirroring his moves. Neville smiles as he makes his way over to his mother, removing the coat from her back and embracing her. She reluctantly hugged him back. He didn’t blame her, he was a stranger hugging her. Neville squeezed her a little tighter, resting his head on top of hers. When he finally pulled away, his eyes were full of tears. He looks over at his dad releasing his hug from his own mother, who is also teary-eyed. Neville switches places with his Gran, looking at his dad for a second before he hugs him. Frank lightly wraps his arms around his son giving him a friendly pat on the back. Neville holds onto him until his Gran interrupts,

“It’s time to leave, Nev.” He is taken aback for a moment at the nickname, but then smiles. He releases his father and looks up at him again.

“I love you, dad,” Neville turns to his mother, “and I love you, mom.” He gently grabs their hands for a second before letting go. His Gran puts a hand on his back, rubbing it slightly. Neville feels his lower lip quiver as they walk to exit the door. His Gran opens it and gestures for him to leave first. He turns around to look at his parents, they look at each other and then at Neville, smiling and waving at him. Neville leaves the room and is greeted with the hallway of the hospital. He looks at his Gran as she closes the door with a final click. Her hand lingers on the doorknob for a second before turning to Neville with a tear spilling on her cheek and the slightest smile,

“How about we stop at Honeydukes for some candy?”

#harry potter #neville longbottom #neville longbottom fic #harry potter fic #fanfiction #harry potter fanfiction #neville longbottom fanfiction #longbottom family #fluff #hp fluff #frank longbottom #alice longbottom #draco malfoy #hp fic #neville longbottom imagine #harry potter imagine

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dickspeightjrs · 4 years

Text

Show Me How Big Your Brave Is (au / 4.8k words)

Prompt 17 from my ‘30 Destiel Prompts’ for @eccentriccas

ao3 link

It stared at Dean from the fridge, tacked up by a Stanford University magnet gifted to Dean by his brother, Sam.

He’d known his high school reunion was coming up at some point but seeing it embossed in gold lettering created a pit in his stomach.

High school wasn’t the best time for Dean for a few reasons. First, his dad had died in freshman year, which Dean had had mixed feelings about if he was honest. He was mostly concerned about his mother. She didn’t take it well. And then there was-

Dean was torn from his stare down with the invitation by the door bell. He trudged over to answer it. His best friend, Charlie, came bounding in with all the energy of a labrador puppy.

“Hey, friend!” She exclaimed, pulling Dean into a tight hug. “Are you ready for our movie night?”

Dean let himself be infected with Charlie’s excited energy. “Of course, dude! Give me superheroes in spandex already.” He laughed.

“You go set up the first movie and I’ll put the beers in the fridge, okay?” Charlie instructed.

“Sounds good, Bradbury.”

Dean lucked out when he’d met Charlie. They’d been assigned as roommates in college. There had been a mix up with the room allocations. Dean had been a little confused when he’d turned from his boxes to find a tiny red-head standing in the doorway of his dorm.

Charlie had taken a step into the room, let her backpack fall to the floor, and said, “Don’t even think about trying anything. I’m gay as the day is long and I’m not afraid to punch a guy back into his place.” Dean hadn’t known how to reply so he’d just nodded and silently gone back to unpacking his things.

It was when Charlie had put up a Star Wars poster above her bed that Dean knew he was about to make a best friend.

“Ooh what’s this?” Charlie’s voice came from the kitchen.

Crap. Charlie had probably found the invite. He should have hidden it when he had the chance. He sighed and moved into the kitchen.

Charlie had an extremely mischievous grin on her face, and that was saying something for her.

“When were you going to tell me about this?” Charlie asked.

“Urm, never?” Dean mumbled, reaching to snatch the paper out of Charlie’s hand.

But Charlie was too quick and dodged Dean’s grasp.

“Come on Dean. You have to go!” Charlie implored. “It’ll be fun!”

Dean gave his friend an unimpressed look. “Charlie you know how much I hated high school.”

Charlie’s face softened. “I know, it sucks that you got outed before you were ready. No one deserves that. But, it’s been ten years. Things have changed.”

“You don’t know the people I went to high school with.” Dean scoffed.

Charlie rolled her eyes. “Stop being dramatic, you nerd.”

“Dramatic or not, I ain’t going.” Dean plucked the invite out of Charlie’s hand and tore it in two.

Charlie stuck her tongue out at him. “Party pooper.”

* * *

A few hours later, Dean and Charlie were deep into their annual ‘NerdFest’ movie night.

“I swear, if I didn’t bat for the best team, I’d be so down for a bit of Black Wing.” Charlie mumbled around a mouth full of popcorn.

Dean couldn’t help but nod in agreement. Aside from Captain America (because, hello Chris Evans!), Black Wing was Dean’s favourite superhero. But he’d only appeared in ensemble movies. There had been rumours of him getting his own solo movie after fans online had campaigned for it but nothing ever seemed to come of it. The guy who played him seemed to just drop off the map.

Shame, Dean thought as he watched Black Wing kick ass on-screen, that dude was hot!

“Take someone like that to your high school reunion and it would make those dicks’ jaws drop.”

“Drop it, Charlie.” Dean groaned, glaring at the red-head.

“Just saying. Get a hot date and you’ll win the game of life in their eyes.” Charlie raised her hands in defence.

“Noted. Let’s move on.”

“Fine.” Charlie pouted.

Dean nodded and turned back to watch the screen, content that the subject had been dropped.

“OH MY GOD!”

Dean jumped out of his skin, sending popcorn flying through the air. “What the hell, Bradbury?” He exclaimed.

Charlie started excitedly slapping Dean on the arm. “I have the best idea.” She practically squealed. “Put an ad up on Craigslist for a hot date.”

Dean’s eyes went wide. “No fucking way. Never happening. Now stop.”

“But-”

“No!”

Charlie sulked for the next half an hour, all through the iconic fight scene with Black Wing and his fellow team of superheroes. She stopped eventually after Dean offered her a piece of pie as a peace offering.

* * *

After a couple more movies, Charlie had to leave. Apparently, being an adult meant that you can’t just spend all night watching with your best friend anymore - who knew? So with a ‘see ya later bitch’, Charlie was gone.

Dean felt the aches from being sat on the couch for hours and he was looking forward to laying out on his bed for a good night’s sleep.

He sighed to himself and tidied up the last remains of the movie snacks. He was ready for sleep but he had to work early in the morning and he wouldn’t have time to clean up before he left.

Shuffling into the kitchen to put the rubbish in the trash, Dean spotted his reunion invite where he left it on the counter. Except, it wasn’t ripped in two like he’d left it. It had ‘mysteriously’ been taped back together. He dragged a tired hand down his face in exasperation. Charlie just didn’t know when to quit. She was the bratty little sister he never wanted.

He plonked himself down on the chair at the counter and stared at the white paper for a few moments.

Fuck it!

Charlie was right (though he’d never admit it to her face). He was determined to prove to the assholes he went to school with that the shit they threw at him didn’t stick. It didn’t matter that Dean didn’t really believe it to be the truth,’ fake it til ya make it’ as they say.

Before he could chicken out, Dean had Craigslist opened up on his phone. Thinking back to Charlie’s suggestion earlier, Dean decided against asking specifically for a ‘hot’ guy. He dreaded to think what kind of douchebags that would answer the ad proclaiming themselves to be an adonis.

And, despite knowing since he was young that he was bisexual, he decided to aim the ad towards guys. His few relationships with women had never worked out. Even though this was all going to be fake, Dean would like to be able to at least get on with the person.

In the end, he decided on a short and simple ad:

‘Hi, I’m Dean (28M) looking for a guy to take as my date to my stupid high school reunion next Saturday. Message if interested (no weirdos)’

He posted the ad and then spotted the time at the top of the screen.

Midnight. Shit.

He closed the website and dashed upstairs as fast as his tired legs could carry him.

* * *

The next morning, Dean got woken up by the feel of sunlight shining on his face. He must have forgotten to shut the curtains before he passed out last night.

His blood ran cold when he realised that the sun shining on his face meant only one thing. He was late for work. He scrambled around looking for his phone to check the time but it was nowhere to be found.

Suddenly, it came to him. He must have left his phone on the counter in the kitchen, meaning he didn’t hear his alarms going off.

He cursed himself and sped to get ready. Quickly sniffing a shirt to check it was okay to wear, he got dressed and raced downstairs. Sure enough, his phone was sat on the table where he'd sat the night before.

When he picked it up he found that it had also run out of battery overnight.

Great. As if this day couldn’t get any worse.

Forgetting all else on his mind, Dean grabbed his phone and dash out of the front door.

* * *

The ad remained forgotten until a few days later.

Dean was just about to sit down and relax with a beer when his phone lit up with a notification. He put his beer down on a coaster to check it out.

It was a message from Craigslist telling him someone has been trying to contact him about his ad.

Dean’s eyes went wide. He’d completely forgotten about the ad for a date after being late for work and being chewed out by his boss. He couldn't believe someone had actually responded. He looked at the date for the first message. This guy had contacted him like an hour after he’d posted the ad.

He opened the message.

(01:28) BlueEyesAndBlackWings says: Hello. I saw your ad for a date to your reunion. It says I’m only 10 miles from your location. I’m interested in helping you out. Are you still in need of assistance?

(10:11) BlueEyesAndBlackWings says: I assume, as you haven’t replied, that you’ve decided to go with someone else for your date.

(11:20) BlueEyesAndBlackWings says: On second thought, this ad was probably a joke. Please ignore my messages.

Wow. This dude talked funny. And reading that last message, Dean felt a little sorry for the guy too. He seemed lonely. But beggars can’t be choosers, so Dean prepared to reply.

As he went to type, he noticed the guy’s username and smiled to himself.

(19:37) impala67 says: don’t worry dude! the position as my date is still open. you’re the only one who has responded.

PS. I like your username. you a Black Wing fan too?

The reply was almost immediate.

(19:41) BlueEyesAndBlackWings says: Okay. What information do you need from me?

PS. You could say so.

‘You could say so’? Was this guy purposefully trying to be mysterious? Either way, Dean was intrigued.

(19:45) impala67 says: idk dude, just the basics I guess. how old u are, what u look like

(19:53) BlueEyesAndBlackWings says: I’m 30 years old. I have blue eyes and dark hair. I’m 6 feet tall. Anything else?

Dean hummed to himself. The guy sounded pretty average, which was okay with him.

(19:55) impala67 says: nah, that’s awesome dude. anything you want to know?

(19:58) BlueEyesAndBlackWings says: I suppose it would be nice to know what you look like too. Also, if you don’t mind me prying, I wondered why you need to have a date for a school reunion. And why have you turned to Craigslist to find it?

Dean was set aback by this guy’s forwardness. But, he did have a right to know what he was getting into Dean supposed.

(20:05) impala67 says: you already know I’m 28. I have green eyes. sort of light brown hair and i’m around 6’2”. as for the other shit. high school was a shit show. I’ve always been a bit nerdy i guess. people didn’t like it. then I realised I’m bi (hope that’s not a deal break btw). tried asking this guy out senior year. got outed to the whole school. got a lot of shit for it.

(20:11) BlueEyesAndBlackWings says: I’m sorry to hear that happened to you. No one deserves that. Why do you want to go back? No one would blame you for leaving and never going back. (Again, if you don’t mind me asking.)

Dean blinked at the screen. His forgotten beer was getting warm but he was fascinated by this guy. He seemed genuine and Dean felt himself wanting to share the darkest parts of himself with a complete stranger. He sighed and typed.

(20:20) impala67 says: I guess I want to prove to those assholes that the things they said didn’t affect my life. even tho that’s not always the truth. I still struggle to accept myself i guess.

Dean chewed his lip, debating whether to include that last line or not. But, hey, he was asking this dude to be his date, the least he could do was be honest with him. He pressed send.

Blue Eyes didn’t reply instantly this time and it made Dean nervous. He wished he could take back the last bit of the message.

After a few anxious moments, Blue Eyes still hadn’t replied so Dean gave up, figuring he’d scared the guy away. He cursed himself and moved to put his Doctor Sexy DVDs into the player. He’d never admit it to anyone, not even Charlie, but Doctor Sexy was his comfort show. It provided him with a much needed distraction.

A couple hours later, Dean was beginning to doze. The extra few beers he’d had cushioned him into a deep sleep.

When he woke, surrounded by darkness with only the DVD menu playing to no one lighting the room, Dean rubbed his face tiredly and went to check his phone for the time.

Instead of looking at the clock, Dean’s eyes were distracted by the Craigslist notification. Blue Eyes had messaged him back! Feeling a little foolish that he’d reacted too quickly before, Dean opened the message.

(23:23) BlueEyesAndBlackWings says: You’re incredibly brave, Dean. Not many people would be able to do what you’re doing.

Dean blushed in the darkness. Why were a random internet dude’s words affecting him so much? He didn’t really know what to say in response so he just sent a quick ‘thank you, dude.’

* * *

Over the next few days leading up to the reunion, Dean carried on messaging Blue Eyes just to get to know him a little more. Turns out the dude is dorky as hell. And, despite the original impression he gave with the Black Wing username, the guy didn’t understand any of Dean’s other references.

It had occurred to him after they’d been messaging for a while that Dean still didn’t know his name.

When he confronted Blue Eyes about it, the man had taken a while to respond again and answered only with ‘I’d rather not disclose my full name at this time. But, you can call me C.’

Dean had been a little skeptical of the guy’s response at first. But then, he figured the worst case scenario was the guy turned out to be a catfish and Dean would just blow off the reunion altogether and go get drunk. And he couldn’t blame the guy for not wanting to give out personal details over Craigslist.

The day before the reunion, they agreed it was probably best to meet somewhere a couple hours before so they had time to get to know each other in person and iron out the final details they’d need to know about each other.

* * *

Dean sat in the coffee shop they’d agreed to meet at (public and easy to escape if things went south). He tried to stop his leg from trembling under the table.

He was nervous for a couple of reasons. The obvious: this guy could turn out to be a creepy old dude stalking men on the internet. And the less obvious but more surprising to Dean: he actually wanted this to go well. Without even knowing what he looked like, Dean had found himself beginning to like the guy. Even if he wasn’t attracted to him when he finally saw Blue Eyes, Dean would be cool with being friends with him.

His eyes were following the patterns in the wood on the table top when a deep voice came from above him.

“Dean?” It asked, with nervous uncertainty.

Dean swallowed and looked up to the source of the voice and-

Holy shit!

It was him! It was the Black Wing!

What was the guy’s name? Cas- something? Castile? Casteel? Castiel! That was it!

Holy fucking shit! This couldn’t be happening.

Dean realised he’d been staring wide-eyed during his internal freak out and Blue Eyes, Castiel, was stood looking as nervous as Dean had felt before the surprise adrenaline took over his body.

“Sorry, dude. Please sit down.” Dean gestured to the chair opposite him. He wiped his hands on his jeans, nerves starting to take over once again.

Neither man spoke for a few moments.

“So I-” Castiel began.

“I don’t-” Dean spoke too.

Both men chuckled. “You go,” Dean told Castiel.

Castiel smiled softly, “I suppose, from your reaction, you know who I am.”

Dean blushed. “Yeah. For what it’s worth, I’m a big fan.” He scratched the back of his head awkwardly.

Now Castiel blushed, “Thank you, Dean.” His expression turned serious. “I hope you understand now why I didn’t give you my full name while we spoke online.”

“Yeah, of course, dude. Don’t want any crazies hunting you down.” Dean chuckled.

Castiel chuckled with him. “Yes, something like that.”

“So, um, before we get into the details for later, I was wondering if I could ask you a question?”

“Of course, Dean. You were honest with me, it’s only fair I return the favour.” Castiel smiled.

“It’s only because I watched one of your movies the other night with my best friend, Charlie-” who was totally gonna freak out when Dean told her about this “-but wasn’t there meant to be a solo Black Wing movie? Everyone in the fandom was talking about it and then suddenly you seemed to disappear. I guess, I’m just wondering why you changed your mind?” Dean asked, nervously. He was waiting for Castiel to tell him to go fuck himself (though Dean knew that Castiel wasn’t really that kinda guy).

Castiel cleared his throat and met Dean’s eyes. “We were just about to go into production for the solo movie when my brother and his wife were killed in a head-on collision with a truck.”

Dean’s mouth dropped open. But, he could sense Castiel hadn’t finished so he stayed quiet.

“The only blessing was that it was instant, so they didn’t suffer. That, and luckily their daughter, Claire, was at the babysitter’s at the time.” Castiel smiled, melancholy whispers gracing his features.

Dean knew he barely knew the guy but he could sense when someone needed comfort so he reached across the table to place a soft touch on Castiel’s hand.

“I took Claire into my care. And that ended my career as I knew it.” Castiel shrugged. “I was deeply disappointed to have to leave the movie, but Claire came first. And I didn’t want her to grow up in the spotlight, with people using her parents’ tragic death as a way to sell magazines. So I left the industry. That was three years ago and I haven’t looked back. Claire is five now and she’s all I could ever want.”

Dean was awestruck. “Wow.” He breathed. “I can’t believe it.”

“What?” Castiel asked, head tilting in confusion. (If the situation wasn’t so serious, Dean would have struggled not to comment on how adorable he looked.)

“Dude.” Dean choked. “You called me brave for wanting to face a coupla high school assholes. But you - you gave up your entire career to give the best life to your niece.” He shook his head in disbelief. “You’re amazing.”

Castiel blushed again (and Dean found he was slowly falling in love with that look on Castiel’s face). “I don’t know that I’m amazing, I just want a normal life for Claire and I.” He shrugged.

“A normal life, huh?” Dean asked. “Well, I can try and help with that.” He lifted his hand from where it had been placed on Castiel’s and held it in the air between them. “I’m Dean Winchester. I’m twenty eight. A bit of a nerd and in need of a date this evening.”

Castiel huffed a laugh and placed his hand in Dean’s, shaking it. “I’m Castiel Novak. I’m thirty. Uncle to a beautiful niece and I would be honoured if you’d let me be your date for this evening.”

Dean’s face broke into a smile, which turned into a laugh that caused a smile to spread across Castiel’s cheeks.

They let their hands settle naturally on top of the table.

Now, with their barriers down, they began making plans and ideas for that evening. Though, if Dean were being honest, it felt like he’d known Castiel forever already.

Eventually, after what felt like hours of talking, Castiel got up to finally get himself a coffee. It wasn’t until Castiel’s hand left his that Dean realised they’d been holding onto each other the whole time.

* * *

Dean and Castiel ended up talking for so long in that coffee shop that they were late for the reunion. The party was in full swing when they arrived.

Just before they entered the hall, Dean stopped in his tracks.

“What’s wrong, Dean?” Castiel asked, worry etched into his features.

“Are you sure about this, man? There’s a chance someone in there could recognise you or something. It’s not worth ruining your life plan over just for me to say ‘fuck you’ to a couple of dicks.” Dean stressed.

Castiel reached to take Dean’s hand in his. “Some things are worth a little risk.” He whispered and walked with Dean through the hall doors.

It seemed Dean had had nothing to worry about in the end. They’d spoken to a few people who had seemed genuinely interested in that Dean had been up to since graduation. And they barely batted an eye when he’d introduced Castiel as his boyfriend. (He’d meant to just call him his date but clearly his mouth had had other ideas.) Castiel himself had just placed a soft hand around Dean’s waist - stopping Dean from an internal panic.

It was all going so well and Dean was starting to think Charlie had been right (again, damn her!). Maybe everyone had just grown up and moved on.

Once they’d finished a conversation with the guy Dean sat next to in English class senior year, Castiel went to the bar to get them some drinks, whispering in Dean’s ear that he’d be back in a moment. Dean was a little sad Castiel hadn’t gone a bit further and placed a kiss on his cheek.

“Well, well, if it isn’t Dean Winchester.” The voice of Bela Talbot came from behind him. Dean turned with a scowl on his face.

“Hello, Bela.” He said through gritted teeth. She’d been one of the main people instrumental in his forced coming out.

“Goodness me, Dean. If I’d known how pretty you’d turn out, maybe high school could have gone a lot differently.” She practically purred, running a perfectly manicured finger along Dean’s cheek bone. “But, hey, there’s still time now, I could be the one to knock you straight again.”

Dean was frozen to the spot. He was back to being a scared kid, dealing with the loss of a parent and being taunted daily for his sexuality. He knew he shouldn’t have done this. He wasn’t brave. He was pathetic. He couldn’t even stand up to a school bully ten years later.

“Excuse me.” Castiel appeared suddenly at Dean’s side. “What did you say to him?” The look on his face was nothing short of murderous.

“I’m just getting reacquainted with an old friend.” Bela answered, sickly sweet. “And who are you?”

Castiel’s eyes narrowed. “I’m Dean’s boyfriend and I don’t appreciate the way you’re speaking to him.”

Dean’s eyes went wide. Earlier it had been a slip when he’d called Castiel his boyfriend but now Castiel was purposefully saying it? Dean didn’t dare to hope.

Bela laughed, causing Castiel to glare even harder (honestly, if looks could kill, she’d be in hell). “Ah! So he’s definitely still gay then.” She said, lip curling with distaste.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but he’s bisexual, not gay. I’d tell you to educate yourself, but clearly, after ten years you’re still the same bitch you’ll always be.”

Bela looked taken aback, like no one had ever spoken to her like that before.

Castiel didn’t wait for her response. Instead, he grabbed Dean’s hand and stormed out of the building.

It wasn’t until the cool evening air hit his face, that Dean finally snapped back to himself. They’d ended up in the parking lot, stood next to Dean’s car.

“Cas..” Dean breathed.

“I’m sorry, Dean.” Castiel said, begging for forgiveness. “I just couldn’t stand the way she was speaking to you.”

“Cas-” Dean spoke.

“She was just so rude a-and small-minded. I hated it.”

“Cas!” Dean raised his voice. Castiel snapped his jaw shut. “It’s okay. Thank you for sticking up for me.” Dean stepped closer to Castiel, playing with the lapel on Castiel’s suit jacket.

Castiel looked into Dean’s eyes but Dean couldn’t hold his gaze. “I’m just embarrassed that I froze up. After all of this, I failed at standing up for myself. I’m pathetic.”

Castiel placed his hands on Dean’s cheeks, forcing Dean to look at him. Green eyes finally met blue. “Dean, listen to me. It was incredibly brave to walk into that room tonight. You are the bravest person I’ve ever met.” He said earnestly.

Dean couldn’t hold it in anymore. He hoped he wasn’t about to ruin this before it even started. But, as a wise man told him recently: some things are worth a little risk.

Wasting no more time, Dean pulled Castiel into a deep kiss.

Once Castiel was on board, he pushed Dean up against the car behind them.

After a few heated moments, of what can only be described as heavy making out, Dean growled at Castiel to get into the car before they got arrested for public indecency.

They somehow made it back to Dean’s house but their clothes only managed to stay on long enough to get through the front door. Dean directed them to his room and threw Castiel down on the bed.

He took in the sight of the beautiful man laid out under him before kissing up Castiel’s chest and took over his mouth again. The only words said between them were muttered assurances that they were on the same page. Dean could never have dreamed this is how this night would end but he certainly wouldn’t change a thing.

* * *

The next morning, Dean and Castiel laid in each other’s arms, content to be together in the quiet.

Suddenly, a thought occurred to Dean. “What about your niece?” He worried. “Don’t you need to get back to her?” He sat up frantically.

“Dean, Dean, don’t worry.” Castiel raised his hands to calm the other man. “I texted my babysitter yesterday at the coffee shop asking her to stay with Claire for the night.”

Dean relaxed into the bed, smirking a little. “So you knew how the night would end even before we got to the reunion.”

Castiel blushed. “I wouldn’t say I knew. But I did hope.”

Dean smiled, pulling Castiel closer to place a tender kiss on the side of his head. “I hoped for it too.” He whispered.

They settled into silence again, warm in each other’s company.

A short while passed before either of them spoke again.

“Thank you, Dean.” Castiel murmured, breaking the quiet.

“For what?” Dean frowned.

“For thinking of Claire.”

“Well, she’s important to you. She’s your whole world.” Dean shrugged.

“Maybe my world could get a little bigger now.” Castiel suggested, smiling nervously up at Dean.”

“Yeah, I think it could.”

* * *

Later, as they dug into a couple of burgers Dean threw together, another thought crossed Dean’s mind.

“Cas?”

“Hmm?” Castiel hummed around the burger in his mouth.

“Why were you looking through Craigslist ads in the first place?”

Castiel swallowed and chuckled to himself. “Sometimes I look through to find funny ads people put up.”

Dean was beginning to get a little offended when Castiel reached across the table to hold his hand.

“But, the night that I saw your ad, I had just put Claire to bed and I was feeling lonely. I took a risk. And I think it worked.” Castiel smiled shyly.

“Hell yeah, it did!” Dean grinned from ear to ear.

* * *

Charlie’s phone vibrated next to her. She paused the video game she was playing to pick it up. Seeing it was a text from Dean, she opened it immediately.

On her screen was a selfie of Dean with another dark haired dude captioned:

‘I should take your advice more often Bradbury.’

Her eyes turned to saucers and she looked at the image again more closely. She frowned slightly, looking at the man whose cheek Dean was kissing.

Wait- That totally looked like-

Her phone dinged with a new message from Dean.

‘And yes, it’s exactly who you think it is.’

HOLY FRIGGIN SHIT!

A/N: Hope you enjoyed it Taylor!

If you liked what you saw, REBLOG! and consider reserving a prompt from my ‘30 Destiel Prompts’ challenge, or just send me your own prompt you’d like me to fill!

TAGS: @eccentriccas @starrynightdeancas @credentiast @imbiowaresbitch @starclaire @cockleslovesdestiel @bend-me-shape-me @destielfactory @dea-stiel @wendeano @wingsandimpalas @aggressivedean @flowersforcas @chill-legilimens @pancakesofthelord @saltnhalo @caslikescoffeeandfreckles @assbuttboyfriends @jhoomwrites @breathingdestiel @simplymisha @thekingslover @aelysianmuse

(once again tagging my faves, let me you if you’d like to be removed from future fics - or added if you’re not already there!)

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50-percent-winchester-sister · 4 years

Text

Never Do That Again

Request From: @fancat-not-fangirl

Request: Can you write something where the sister reader gets hurt on a case bc she was protecting either Sam or Dean (like she pushed them out of the way or jumped in front of them or whatnot) and then they're super super worried and protective and frantic over her and they're also guilty for letting her come along on the case

Prompt: After begging and begging for the boys to let you in on the hunt, they eventually give in, only for you to get hurt during

Dean: 29

Sam: 25

Y/N: 18

Word Count: 3,268

MY FIRST REQUEST!! Ahh I feel like a true fanfic writer now!!! I hope you enjoy this fanfic!!

"Dean, come on! At this point I'm begging!" You say flinging your arms up. You've been trying days (which felt like years) and Dean wont budge. You constantly asked Sam, and at which point, you bugged him so much he just gave you a "I don't care as long as Dean lets you," And after that, you had your mind set on bugging the hell out of Dean.

You knew the hunt was harder than the simple salt n' burns that they let you come along with, this hunt required backup, which you 100% will be the backup for.

"No Y/N, my answer will always be no, so there's no point in asking," Dean said to you in an irritated tone. 'day three of asking and hes already annoyed?' You thought to yourself. "But Dean, you know that if this turns sideways, you two will get hurt, it'll be easier on everyone if there was three people working this, I can help!" You reply, you know your right and nothing Dean will say will make you any less wrong.

"Yeah, but that doesn't mean I'm not just going to let you." "Dean-" "Y/N, no"

Just then Sam walks in and notices you and Dean barking at each other. You turn around and walk towards Sam and quickly clung onto his arm. "Sam said I can!" And just then, Sams entire soul left his body and .2 seconds later he defends himself so hard your head spins.

"What? Y/N I never said that. I said that you can as long as Dean lets you." "Dean PLEASE, What if you guys get hurt, and I'm not there to help you guys? I get that something can happen but with the three of us, it'll be less likely!"

"Dean shes got a point," Sam says looking a little defeated, "Shes been asking for days, if you keep saying no, there's going to be backlash"

Dean wipes his hand over his face, looking increasingly irritated. "I swear if you get hurt, if I see blood on you and its yours, you're never hunting again, got it?" Dean asks you. "So I'm coming?"

Dean looks over at Sam, who just shrugged at him, and he looks back at you, "Go pack up, we leave in an hour," Dean sighs. "Oh my god, yes! I swear you wont regret taking me" You respond, running to your room, "I better not," Dean yells back

____________________________________________

An hour seems like 10 minutes to you, you hunted plenty of times with them, and sneakily by yourself, but none of the hunts were ever this intense. You go outside to see Sam and Dean waiting for you in the Impala.You get inside and apologize for taking so long, and Sam saying that it was alright and no harm was done.

You, Sam and Dean roll up to the motel since it is already after dark and you're guessing Deans on high alert since you came along. You knew that Dean was going to be harder on you, but that just means you gotta show him how strong you are, even if you get hurt, you gotta suck it up and fight hard, make sure you get that smile that you love to get from him and Sam.

Once you guys settle in and get ready for bed, you see Dean at the table on Sams laptop, you didn't mean to stare, it just sort of happened.

You were thinking about every possible outcome, and you knew Dean was thinking the same thing. 'Will I get hurt? Will Sam and Dean get hurt!?'

Sam looked over at you and noticed that you were staring and Dean for a minute that seemed like forever to him, and he smiled at himself.

____________________________________________

You were the first one up, even before Sam, and he usually is up at 6:00am. it doesn't take long for Sam to wake up, "Why are you up so early?" he asks you. "Take a wild guess" you respond with a shit eating grin,. "Wake Dean up, I'm going to get breakfast," Sam says taking the car keys out of Dean jacket.

Sam leaves and you look over at Dean and stare again, you shake your head lightly, 'no stop thinking that.' You walk over to him lightly smack his arm a couple times, "Dean wake up, Sams getting food, come on"

Dean wakes up and looks over at you with the most softest eyes, "What?" you ask. "What time is it?" he asks in a deep, tired voice. "I don't know hold on" You reply, you walk over to the bed stand where your phone is, "Almost 7:30."

"Did Sam wake you up?" He asks. "Nah I woke up myself" you say as you throw your phone on the bed, "You okay?" you ask him. You know hes gonna say I'm fine you know it for a fac-

"I'm fine, are 'you' okay?" He asks

'Knew it'

"Oh yeah I'm good." You look over at Dean again and hes still in bed, but sitting up and looking at you. "Anyways what did you find out on Sams laptop last night?" "Three deaths this week, one two nights ago, and all three of them had hole marks behind their left ears and their brains are practically sucked out, I'm guessing its a-" "Wraith?" You cut him off.

He looks over at you for a couple/few seconds before talking again. "Yeah, how'd you figure that out?" "Dean, I know how to research, not my first rodeo" you giggle after what you said.

Ten minutes later Sam shows up with breakfast and you three eat while talking about what is about to happen.

The hunt was going to last all day, the boys go all FBI, and you stay back and research and look around the crime scene. It was complete bullshit, you knew Dean was being protective but come on, you have a fake ID, might as well use it, but no, you knew he would make you stay behind.

You are wearing your FBI suit just in case you were needed by the boys, you three are at the place where the last murder was, you three are speaking to the mother of the daughter who got killed by the wraith.

"So Mrs.Luke, would there be any reason this happened, did she have any enemies that might have done this to her?" Sam asks. The way her mom looked at him didn't settle well with you. "No I don't think so, he was so well liked by everyone, she was perfect."

"Ma'am, I noticed she tried to leave the house before she died, do you know where she was going to go at one in the morning?" you ask Mrs. Luke.

"Well I- What does that have to do with anything?" She responds, clearly shes quite nervous. "Just answer the question ma'am," Dean quickly adds on.

"Well I was thinking she was going to sneak over to a friends house or something, but now we'll never know..."

'What is she hiding?' you ask yourself, 'Does she have something to do with all this?'

____________________________________________

In the car you three are on the way to the park where the first murder happened. You thought to yourself that there was no way that a wraith can just kill someone out in the open, so it had to be at night where no one was in the park except them and their victim.

You tell them your observation and with a long sigh you add, "Tonight at around two or three am, I'll come out here and just wait around for the wraith to come by"

"Uh, no, hell no that ain't happening" Dean says like hes utterly offended that you'd even think about being bait. "But Dean-" "He's right Y/N, No way you are going to go out there alone, we'll figure something out," Sam says. Sam agreeing with Dean can be the most frustrating thing in the world and vise versa.

"Guys think about it. First murder: 17 year old with long brown hair, Second murder: 20 year old with long brown hair, Third murder: 19 year old with long brown hair, The Fourth is exactly my description, 18 year old with long brown hair, that's me!"

"Y/N, we said no" Sam and Dean say in unison. Dammit they piss you off so much sometimes.

____________________________________________

Nightfall comes around and you three are in the motel, you. You had a plan set in your mind. 'Once they fully fall asleep I'll go out there and kill it myself, that way when they wake up, it'll already be dead before they wake up, perfect!' you think to yourself.

It takes them a couple of hours to go to sleep since they decided to research for a little while, and that kinda of messed up your plan a little, but STILL!!! you already make up your mind and you're going no matter what

They're finally asleep and thankfully you're quiet and your stealth is at max (thanks to training), and you quietly and quickly leave the motel room with the room key and the Impala's keys since you're the only one leaving.

You drive to the park where the first murder happened. You hide your knife in your waistband and get out of the car. You then walk and stand in the middle of the park waiting for the wraith. 'Damn it's cold out' you think to yourself, "I should have brought a jacket.' After your statement you breath in and out and what came out was a frozen type of breath and it startled you to say the least. "Wait what the hell? A wraith doesn't have this type of ability"

"No, honey they don't"

____________________________________________

Meanwhile back at the motel:

"Dammit Dean, Y/N's gone" Sam says fast walking towards Dean. "Yeah she took the damn car too. You know Sam, Y/N's most likely in the damn park we were art earlier today, lets go" "With what car? Think before everything else Dean," Sam says. Sams right, you cant go into battle without some type of plan.

"Sam, were the masters of stealing, we'll just take a car from the parking lot," Dean says as he shrugs.

Sam and Dean roll up to the park and they see you talking to someone they don't know. "Son of a bitch, really? Come on Sammy"

____________________________________________

"What the hell are you and mostly-" You cut yourself off to show her your blade, "Why the hell are you killing innocent people?" That....thing, begins to laugh, but you don't show any emotion but anger.

"Honey, I cant be killed by a flimsy knife that 'that', and-" She gets shot. You turn around to see who shot her and you see one pissed off brother and one worry-full brother, (guess who). "and I cant be killed by gunshots either, sorry boys and girls."

"Well you're one show tune son of a bitch aren't you?" Dean asks. You look at Dean, then at Sam and you see Sam mouthing you to pull back and stand behind them, and knowing you're already grounded for life, you defeated agree.

"Three against one bitch, you're out numbered" Dean says pulling out his large KA1214. 'That's new,' you think to yourself and out of fight or flight response, you pull your knife out too.

Sam whispers quiet enough so the thing won't hear him, but loud enough so you can. "Y/N, What the hell is that?" and you respond with "That's a vampire, but i assume its being controlled by a type of ghost"

"Okay so everyone got their weapons? Fun, let me get mine out too and we can have some fun, huh?" The vampire says as she shows her teeth and pulls out a....'is that a Beretta M9? How uncommon' you think to yourself.

"Bringing a gun to a knife fight? Really?" Sam asks "Why yes, as you see its a 90-10 ratio, I win and you three...well, at least you three will go down fighting, the one and only Cynthia Harness. lets play shall we? Here, I'll go first." Cynthia tries to shoot Dean but he ducks and runs fast towards her, he swings his knife., but she ducks and runs towards the other direction. Sam runs to catch up with her and you look back at Dean and silently say I'm sorry, and you run towards Sam and Cynthia.

"Dammit Y/N, come back here!" Dean yells at you, but you don't comply. Deans staying back just in case there were any more and now its just you, Sam and Cynthia out in probably the middle of the woods behind the park.

You hear two gunshots in front of you. 'Oh god, Sam' you think to yourself, 'what if he's already dead?' "SAAAAAM" You yell, as you're are running faster than you were before.

Finally, you see Cynthia and 'oh thank god,' you see Sam, and he looks like hes okay! "Oh Its you again, hi!" Cynthia says with a big smile waving at you like shes your best friend. "Get the hell away from him" the venom in your voice is clearly visible. "Hmm? Oh him? No dear, you just stand there while I-" She cuts herself off and positions her gun to point at Sam's chest, "Just kill him in front of you, how does that sound?" Cynthia asks while laughing like its a damn game and shes destined to be the winner.

"NO," you scream, you run toward sam and .1 milliseconds after she shoots you push sam and the bullet collides with your left leg. You give out a piercing scream as you fall to the floor and Dean comes from behind and chops off Cynthia's head and its rolls on the ground.

"Y/N! Come on, Dean, let's take her to the car" Sam says has he manages to pick you up and you hold your arm over their shoulders, and you hop on one leg to the car. It was silent, but not as silent as it is in the car, It was deadly silent, A type of silent that was mentally and (for you) physically painful.

"......Dean?" "Not a word until we get to the motel got it?" Dean says with a thick and dark voice. "Dean-" "I don't want to hear anything from you either Sam, no one talks until we got to the motel, okay? okay good" Dean says with the most pissed off look you've ever received from him.

And so the long and crucifying 30 minute drive to the motel was silent added with you wincing, groaning and crying from the pain that bitch Cynthia gave you. Every now and then you look at Dean from the rear view mirror and vise versa with Sam, and Dean doesn't look back, he just looks at the road, but Sam looks back at you and sadly smiles and mouths, 'everything's going to be okay, just hold on, okay?' but you don't smile back.

____________________________________________

Meanwhile at the hotel:

Sam and Dean help you out of the car and into the motel room. "You, sit and Sam, get the damn first aid kit, a wet towel, peroxide, and get me a beer," Dean says to you can Sam. You sit on the foot of your bed and once Dean got his beer and whatever else he needed, he sat next to you and Sam pulled up a chair and sat in front of you.

"Leg," Dean says, and you pull your leg up on his lap (with the help of Sam of course), and he starts working on cleaning the blood, and stopping it from bleeding even more, and Sam gets ready to pull the bullet out and stitch your leg up.

You only trust Sam right now to do the 'dangerous' tasks since Deans still very VERY mad at you, and you're a little afraid he'll kill you himself from sheer anger.

"Y/N-" This time you cut Dean off. "Dean I know, I was being reckless back there, and I could have gotten myself killed, but-" "No Y/N, no buts about it, I knew we shouldn't have brung her, I knew this would happen, and its happened anyway"

"Dean, I've almost gotten shot if it weren't for her," Sam adds. "Oh so what, you're on 'her' side? "Of course not Dean, I'm on no ones side, I'm just saying, give her a break, get angry after theirs a bullet out of her leg, alright?"

Thankfully he agreed, and soon enough the bullet was out and you had stitches in your leg. Dean left a couple of hours ago doing god knows what, but Sam stayed with you and you two laid down and talked for a while

"Don't let Dean get to you, believe it for not, he was just as worried as I was, we still are," Sam says, "Oh and for what its worth, thanks for getting in the way, getting shot in the chest is never a good way to go out." You and Sam both laugh at what he says.

You begin to push yourself up and a shooting pain starts in your leg, and you hiss at the pain. "Fuck," that all that you can handle saying at the moment.

____________________________________________

None of you guys slept that whole night. Dean came back a few hours later after Sam thanked you for jumping in front of him. It has to be about eight or nine am before Sam says out loud, "Alright, I'm getting breakfast, you two don't wait up," and leaves the room.

Now, its just you and Dean. You on your bed, and him on his. You look at him again, and then you look at your hands again. You squeak out an "I'm sorry" to Dean and Dean looks at you.

'I know you are," Dean says to you. He doesn't look as mad at you as he was earlier, but hes still on the defensive side.

"I only did it so Sam wont get hurt..." You say looking at your hands for what it feels like the millionth time. "I know, and I'm proud, but you got hurt in the end Y/N," Dean says with worry in his eyes.

"I know...It hurts like a bitch I'll tell you that," you say as you try to lift the mood. "You could have died Y/N, you cant-" He cuts himself off. "you cant do that to me, to Sam," his voice breaks a little. "Y/N, never do that again okay?"

"....Dean I cant promise that. I was held at gun point you would jump in front of me to save me." You say with a quiet and small voice.

"That's just it Y/N, never do what we do unless we tell you to, I swear you got your recklessness from me" You feel your shoulders relax after seeing a smirk from Dean. "I learned from the best" You tell Dean and he does a small laugh.

Sam comes back a little while later and you three eat your breakfast and talk about from completely nothing to what other hunt you guys are thinking of doing. Of course you wont be able to hunt for a while since you can barely stand, but you can research like a son of a bitch, and hey, sometimes its nice to be backup, especially for the two boys that frustrate the hell out of you.

#supernatural #dean and sam #sam and dean #sister #sam x sister!reader #sister!winchester #dean x sister!reader #dean winchester #sam winchester #sister!reader #winchester!sister #My First Fan Request!

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skycruise · 4 years

Text

Jared virtual panel Sunday 22 Nov 2020

As with Misha, tried to type as he talked as much as possible. I did get interrupted by a couple of brief phone calls & I’m sure someone will post a video later today, but for now--

--Just got out of the shower. Didn’t do his hair lol. It is SHORT Y’ALL.

--Been a hell of a week, we all know why. Series finale. Shed some tears, watched it at his house, everything came flooding back, was really emotional. Wishes he could see our faces. He feels the love.

--Top 3 episodes and why? Series finale is his favorite, he is a fan of storytelling & looking at SPN as a whole the finale wrapped up things in a way that were meaningful and poignant and “wonderfully frustrating”. #2, Sacrifice. Another moment of seeing deeply inside the boys but they were flipped Sam thinking he was dying vs Dean dying. #3 French Mistake, doesn’t know if any other TV show could have done that.

--Was pie in Dean’s face scripted? Yes and he got to do it a few times! When Sam throws the pie in Dean’s face there is a passerby looking on, that is Bob Singer. It being scripted didn’t make it any less fun.

--How were the first days on the set of Walker? Thank you for asking, it’s been awesome. Strange but incredible. Feels lucky and fortunate to be able to see his kids in the morning and and at night, proud of what SPN was and hoping to recreate some of that with Walker. Learned so much from Sam and wants to do that with another character.

--Bad hair days? Puts on a beanie. Never learned how to do anything with his hair.

--Crossover between SPN and Walker, would Cordell and Sam be friends? Absolutely. Both trying to do their best in a weird world to make it a better place and hopefully ease other people’s pain. Sam and Dean found themselves in situations where there’s no perfect answer and Cordell deals with the same type of things.

--Fave Harry Potter book & movie & spell? Book--Deathly Hallows, Sorry, missed the rest! Oh Expecto Patronus lol

--Craziest/funniest bts moment? 2 moments, one where he was awaiting birth of first son Tom, scene where Sam is chasing Kevin around. Same situation where Jensen was waiting for twins--Jensen getting that call. Just a weird situation where something huge is going on personally while trying to act. Talks about Jensen not having his passport and it had to be all hands on deck to find Jensen’s passport and get him back in the states for the birth.

--If SPN all over again as a different character, who & why? Biggest part of him says he has to be Sam. He would be Sam again. But if he HAD to change he would be Lucifer. Mark made it seem like such a fun character to play. Also possibly Chuck, Rob was phenomenal.

--Would love to do/have reaction videos for cast reaction to reaction videos. (Me too, Jared)

--Had a hard time thinking about who he was going to be without SPN

--How did you start your acting career? Acted in middle/high school. Won a contest to be trophy presenter (pulls out surfboard award thing) at Teen Choice awards, met an agent & auditioned over tape. Was supposed to be premed in school but got Gilmore Girls.

--What is always on your Thanksgiving table? Turkey, as much as possible. Stuffing, pumpkin pie. Big Dallas Cowboys fan so would always watch Cowboys game and make awful turkey nachos (tortilla chips with Thanksgiving leftovers) that night

--How would Sam spend his time in quarantine? Giant library at bunker doing a lot of reading. Would probably use a pedometer to make sure he got his steps in for the day. Sam is an introvert.

--What country would Sam and Dean like to visit on vacation? Puerto Rico. Wishes Sam and Dean got their beach vacation that they had talked about. Not sure if the car could have gotten there. Maybe they could have found some floaties for it lol.

--Were any lines adlibbed or added by him and Jensen (finale)? Yes. In the barn scene when Dean tells Sam to keep going, it was written Sam said he couldn’t do it without you (Dean), Sam thought he should say it more similar to the pilot, which is what they did. First thing Dean said to Say was Heya Sammy and Sam was Dean? Sam thought those should also be their last words on the bridge. J2 tried to convey how they thought the characters felt in that barn scene especially. When Sam says It’s okay, you can go now, Jared thought Sam’s son should say the same to him at his death.

--Sam wearing Dean’s watch in the finale? Jared happy fan caught that. Jared thought it was something Sam would have kept and worn.

--Jared doesn’t catch the reference SamLicker81 lol.

--Jared had a lot of time to think about Sam’s ending, at first he thought it was jarring but how do you feel about anyone’s ending? Would you ever be ok with your own ending? There was a finality to it that no matter what happened it would be difficult to wrap his head around. Once he digested it, he felt it was the best way to tell Sam’s story. Sam tried to live his life the way Dean would have wanted him to life his life. He tried to do what Dean would have wanted. If Dean had come back 20 years later and saw Sam hunting he wouldn’t have liked that, he wanted Sam to live his life. That’s what they all fought for, for whoever was left to live as normal a life as possible.

--Any other props end up at Jared’s house? Yeah he has some stuff. His stand-in Jason had got 2 picture frames for Jared and Jensen, got copies of the last call sheet along with their marks (red tape for Jared, blue for Jensen), and framed them.

--Super excited about producing and acting on Walker, felt like he and Jensen were pseudo-producers on SPN but will be different on Walker, hopefully he can help guide the story in a way that’s best for the show

--Acting advice? Everybody is different. Acting is trying to be somebody you’re not...but don’t try to be somebody you’re not. Don’t try to be like another actor. Just be you and figure out what story you want to tell, remember you’re there to tell a story, commit to who you are and who you have been. There are things you’ve been through no one else has, so don’t discredit that.

--Fave song that reminds you of Sam? Carry on Wayward Son, especially having just watched the finale, it’s such a powerful song.

--Pre and post COVID scripts? They can’t fire me now! Biggest deal with post COVID script was the mandatory 2 week quarantine. There were going to be a lot of beloved characters in Heaven with us but it was just a scene or 2 so they couldn’t really ask Rob, Richard, Samantha Smith, Jeffrey Dean to come sit in a hotel room for 2 weeks for one scene. The Heaven Dean deserved was filled with people but because COVID it ended up being just Sam and Dean.

--One thing he will miss the most? The crew/family. Life long friends made over 15 years. He grew up a lot on SPN, been through so much and so much history with those people. It’s so different shooting Walker right now because with COVID there’s less human contact. Misses human contact (with fans too).

--How did you prepare to shoot Dean’s death? How could you possible prepare to shoot Dean’s death? We shot it in September, I had known about since June or July 2019, had been reading the script since February. Lot of time spent on set was trying not to cry. Massive massive fight scene, shot for 3 days but 30 seconds on screen. One day for after Dean’s been impaled so they wouldn’t have to fight all day then get emotional. Was emotional about that scene, didn’t want Jared to get in the way of Sam’s story.

--Did Sam tell his kid about all the hunting stuff? Yeah of course, told him all about uncle Dean, why he was named after him, and the importance of taking care of himself and not spending his life saying goodbye to friends and family and then his son just wanted to get a tattoo.

--There are tons of shows Jared wishes SPN could have crossed over with. Would have been funny to cross over with Walking Dead, for them to see John and he doesn’t know who they are.

--First people Sam would want to see in Heaven? Obviously Dean. Bobby. Mom. Sully. Sam’s Heaven is mostly Dean. He wanted Sam’s wardrobe from the pilot because that was Sam’s happiest moment, going on the road with his brother.

--If he had the chance to work with Jensen again (and he WILL he says, hopefully sooner than later)...Jensen has a standing invitation to come to Walker, but they will find something somewhere and it will be great.

--What weird or gross food do you enjoy? Jared eats everything and a lot of it. Except olives. Doesn’t really like chocolate despite his sweet tooth. Doesn’t like black licorice. Will try anything once. Loves spicy food.

--Advice for people with anxiety? One thing that’s worked for him is just accepting that it’s not going anywhere. If you’re trying to get rid of anxiety you’ll frustrate yourself. Talks about Eddie Vedder saying he sees his demons as somebody who’s riding in the car with him. Take care of yourself. You got this.

--Grateful for you guys, hope to see you soon.

#jared padalecki #virtual panel #StageIt #creation 2020 #jared panel

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katehuntington · 4 years

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Title: In Bad Waters - part seven Word count: ±5570 words Episode summary: Still in possession of the Winchesters’ belongings, Zoë meets up with the hunters on her next case. When it turns out to be a little more complicated than anticipated, she accepts their help in order to make an important deadline. Part seven summary: Zoë goes undercover to find out more about the murder she saw in her dream. Little does she know, that Sam and Dean do the same. Episode warnings: Dark! NSFW, 18+ only! Descriptions of domestic violence/child abuse. Drug use/addiction. Angst, gore, violence, character death. Description of blood, injury and medical procedures/resuscitation. Swearing, alcoholism. Supernatural creatures/entities, mentions of demon possession. Descriptions of torture and murder, drowning. Illegal/criminal practices. Mentions of nightmares and flashbacks. Author’s note: Beta’d by @winchest09 and @deanwanddamons. Thanks, girls!

Supernatural: The Sullivan Series Masterlist

S1E02 “In Bad Waters” Masterlist

Confident, Zoë bends down in order to fit under the yellow ��crime scene - do not cross’ ribbon. She takes out her federal agent ID and flips it open before the officer guarding the perimeter can ask her about it. He steps away respectfully and lets her through.

It’s about 10 AM and the sun is already out on this relatively warm November day. Marching up the driveway with her heels clicking rhythmically on the concrete, Zoë unbuttons her black suit jacket to let in some air. The Stars and Stripes hasn’t been taken down yet and still flutters from the top of the mast, located in the center of a perfectly landscaped garden. The fallen leaves drape parts of the neatly mowed lawn in different tones of orange and brown. Not only does this particular estate look amazing, the entire street is brochure perfect. It is obvious that the families living in these homes on Reynolds Park Road, are wealthy ones. However, the ambulances and police cars blocking the street and the officers scanning the area, indicate that something is terribly wrong. What would seem like the last place on earth for a murder, is indeed a gruesome crime scene.

Two officers are having a conversation by the front entry. They pause the discussion once they notice the unfamiliar face approaching them. She captivates them instantly. Determined strides, head held high, clearly a woman who stands her ground in the men’s words that is law enforcement. There’s not a single trace of doubt noticeable when she flashes her ID once more. “Agent Evans, FBI,” she states.

“Detective Lee. This is officer Sanchez,” a tall man, with a serious case of a receding hairline, introduces his colleague a little reluctantly, clearly not happy about the presence of a fed. He holds out his hand anyway and Zoë makes eye contact, giving him a powerful handshake. “I didn’t know the Bureau was involved,” he comments with an Upper South accent, common for the region.

“Well, if you had paid attention while investigating the crimes in your own county, detective,” the specialist returns without missing a beat, facing the two man with enough arrogance to shut them down immediately, “- you might had noticed that there has been a murder similar to this one, making this a serial killing.” “Still don’t make this a federal case,” Lee returns, standing his ground. “What does, is the fact that there’s a whole string of deaths leading from Alabama up to your lovely little town.”

Of course she just made that up on the spot, just to back up her reason to be here, but no one would be able to tell without doing some solid digging first. She is so convincing that the two men fail to counter her. “Now if you'll excuse me, I have work to do. If you could be so kind to show me the way, that would be neat,” she requires, throwing them a fake smile while narrowing her eyes.

The two officers glance at each other, it being clear as day that the detective is not amused by the way he’s spoken to. Nonetheless, he gestures to the FBI agent to get into the house. She seems like a person not to be messed with.

They enter the villa with Zoë in tow, who nods approving while taking a look around. She glances up to the high ceilings, which are decorated with beautiful alto-reveilo, carved into the white plaster. Roman pillars support the level above, and in the back two staircases circle up to the second floor. Every square inch of the floor underneath their feet is made from marble. Renaissance paintings, portraying country sides in the 19th century and battles from the Civil War hang from the walls, a gold plated chandelier floats overhead. Flower pieces, amongst them an expensive bouquet placed on the mahogany round table in the center of the main room, gives the house a finishing touch. Zoë knows the lifestyle of the rich and famous, but this place looks more like a palace than a principal’s home in a town called Paragould.

“As you can see, Mr. Van Dyke lived the good life. His father owned a Dutch shipping company and made millions,” Officer Sanchez explains, having noticed the federal agent’s impressed expression. “We believe the fortune he passed on to his son might have something to do with Van Dyke’s death.”

As they climb the stairs, Zoë chuckles, but doesn’t say a word. These oblivious bastards... they have absolutely no clue, do they? “You think something else is going on?” Lee questions, noticing the sarcasm in her little laugh. “Money is not the motive,” she returns, curt.

An awkward silence follows and Zoë can feel the hostility between her and the two police officers. She has experienced it before, especially in smaller communities. Most cops despise the feds, simply because the cases they work quite literally hit close to home. The FBI is no stranger to barging in and taking over entire investigations, without sending a ‘thank you’ card. A lot of hard work for the local coppers, without any credit. Zoë can’t say she blames the police for being reluctant.

“This way.” Sanchez beckons them after climbing the stairs to the second floor, where he turns left on the vestibule. The closer they get to the crime scene, the more crowded it gets. The Crime Scene Unit has already arrived and forensics dust for prints, take pictures and search for evidence. When Zoë enters the room and finds Mr. Van Dyke, she frowns.

In the corner lies a man, probably in his mid fifties, half into a shattered exhibition case, his eyes open, death evident. It’s not the first time Zoë has seen a dead guy, but she wasn’t expecting such a violent killing committed by a ten year old. Apparently his head got smashed into the showcase; glass is scattered all over his body. He has bruises and cuts on his arms and face, but most peculiar is his probable cause of death. His neck is broken; the head at a 90° angle.

Zoë scans the room, which shows several signs of a struggle. One thing is certain; Van Dyke really got his ass kicked before he died. As she takes a look around, a woman wearing white latex gloves updates Lee and his partner. Zoë glances over, notices the CSU logo on her jacket, and walks over to tune in. “- time of death was between 6:30 and 7 AM. No prints found so far,” the forensic states. “Look at this place. There must be something,” Detective Lee ponders, his gaze panning over the crime scene. “Not even a fiber,” she sighs. “I have to admit; I’ve never seen anything like this.”

“Seems like the suspect has left no trace,” Zoë intervenes, mixing into the conversation. “Someone just did a good job covering up,” Sanchez scoffs, not finding her remark relevant. “We’ll find something.” Dude, you have no idea, Zoë thinks to herself, the corner of her mouth twitching in amusement. She doesn’t cut in on him, although she has about a dozen smart curve balls ready. Never get too smart around cops, who knows what she might need them for later on.

“There’s one thing, though, but it adds more confusion than it clears up.” The forensic walks over to the body of Mr. Van Dyke and points out the way his sweater is pulled down. It uncovers his left shoulder, the sleeve seems too long at the end by the force that was used. “Looks like someone pulled him down. As if the killer wanted to level his victim with him or her,” she clarifies. “The murderer was shorter than the victim,” Lee concludes. “Not just a little shorter, I’m talking about round 4 ft. 5 here, looking at the angle and location of the bruising,” the forensic adds up. “About the height of a ten year old, right?” Zoë fills in, as the clues sum up. “Yeah, that would be correct, but that’s impossible. Even if a ten year old could be capable of doing such a thing, they wouldn’t have the strength,” she rules out.

Impossible isn’t in Zoë’s dictionary, but she has seen enough. The forensics might be on a dead end, Zoë is a hundred percent sure of who Van Dyke’s killer is. She is dealing with one furious ghost child here, but two questions remain unanswered: why isn't Laura at rest and how is she able to relocate? A cursed object is the first thing that comes to mind. Being on the clock, Zoë decides to leave and have a talk with the family. “Thanks very much, I’ve got everything I need.” She gives both the forensic and the members of the PPD a nod, before she exits the room.

While Zoë walks down the corridor towards the staircase, the undercover huntress goes through the things she just learned. It almost seems like Laura is trying to put her victims through the same horror she experienced before she died. She simply shows them who’s boss, just like her father used to teach her. It’s violent, not suited for viewers under the age of eighteen, and yet a girl of only ten years of age, is behind these murders.

Back on the first floor, Zoë can hear soft wailing coming from the dining room. For the third time this morning she shows her ID, this time to the officer guarding the shielded off private space. The door is slightly ajar, when she pushes it open further in order to enter, the investigator finds the Van Dyke family, gathered together. A woman in her early fifties with blonde pixie hair has her arms around a teenage girl, who Zoë presumes to be the principal’s daughter. The son, a few years younger than his sister, stares outside, his empty eyes gazing out over the lake, quietly grieving in his own way. Instantly, Zoë feels sorry for the family. She wouldn’t wish this upon anyone. “Mrs. Van Dyke?”

The woman looks up with tears in her eyes and lets go of her daughter, but not before sweetly stroking her hair. Zoë shows Mr. Van Dyke’s wife her identification. “I’m Special Agent Evans, you can call me Sharon. I would like to ask you a few questions if that’s alright.” The mother of two nods her head as she wipes away her tears. “Of course.” “Your husband’s passing took place between 6:30 and 7 O'clock this morning. Where were you at this time?” Zoë questions calmly. “I was in the kitchen, preparing breakfast,” Mrs. Van Dyke replies, having crossed one arm over her chest, her hand covering her mouth as she breathes out with a shudder. “And you heard nothing?” the huntress wonders, her voice gentle, not wanting to upset the poor woman even more. “Not a sound,” she shakes her head. “Heather was in her room next to Bill’s office, she didn’t hear a thing until the dog started barking, that’s when she found him.”

Zoë nods at that, aware that dogs have a better sense of the supernatural than humans have. She glances past the woman before her, noticing the kind Australian shepherd, who has laid his head in Heather’s lap, watching up at her with worried eyes while trying to comfort his owner. The dog seems calm now, a good indication that Laura isn’t anywhere near. What the huntress does find strange, though, is that their daughter didn’t hear a thing. The article in the newspaper yesterday about Robert Shire’s murder comes to mind. His family was home during the incident as well.

“That will be it for now, thank you for your time,” Zoë notifies, smiling sympathetically. “I’m very sorry for your loss.” Mrs. Van Dyke turns back to her family with half a nod, still in complete shock after this morning’s events which turned her world upside down. Zoë would like to take more time to talk to the children, but she simply doesn’t have a minute to spare. Hastened, the huntress exits the house, stepping out into the warm sun as she takes out her shades and puts them on.

It all makes sense now. Laura isn’t just getting even with the people who are directly or indirectly connected to her death. She’s recreating how she died. What Zoë remembers from her flashback, the poor girl was a punching bag for her father’s fist on a daily basis, but it’s not just that. No one around heard a thing, not even a single sound, like the victims were isolated from the outside world. The vision of Laura’s mother stoically continuing her dinner while her older brother watched TV. As if they couldn’t bear the abuse and therefore shut out the sounds that came along with it.

Pondering, Zoë strides down Reynolds Park Road, back to her bike, which she parked near the water. Unlike the police, the huntress is everything but stuck, she knows exactly where she needs to go. Next stop; The Shire residence.

“I can’t believe we’re actually doing this.”

Dean has been complaining ever since they pulled away from the In-N-Out, when Sam came up with his newest masterplan. Their usual jeans and several layers of plaid have been replaced with black suits, the sharp dressed men now approaching Arkansas Methodist Medical Center, leaving the Impala in the parking lot.

“We are doing this, so get used to it,” Sam returns, getting tired of his brother’s whining. “You have the ID’s?” Dean takes out two leather wallets and flips them open, showing him the fake identification. Sam stares at the ID’s, his jaw falling open. “FBI? Are you nuts, Dean?” “Dad and I do it all the time. No sweat,” Dean shrugs, not that worried about getting caught.

“What if they look up our badge numbers? This is suicide!” Sam hisses, keeping his voice down when they pass people at the entrance of the hospital. “You wanna know what’s suicide? Meddling with Zoë’s case,” Dean counters. Sam huffs. “Oh, come on. How bad can it be?” “You should have seen her in Rochester when she found out we rang Cliffer and blew her cover. That wasn’t even intentional, and now you actually choose to get involved?” Dean argues.

He gives his brother his new identification, which Sam studies carefully as he mumbles his fake name. Dean watches his brother closely, curious if he will detect the little gimmick in their aliases, them being Angus and Young. But Sam doesn’t know enough about rock music to notice that the two names combined is the full name of AC/DC’s lead guitarist. Nonetheless, Dean is proud of the inside joke.

“She might get a little annoyed, but she won’t get mad. We’re helping her,” Sam assures, hoping his brother will stop being dramatic. “Exactly! I’m dressed like a fucking penguin while I know she won’t ever thank us, even if we have a major breakthrough.” Dean loosens his tie a bit, smothered by the tightness of his collar. “Look man, we can sit on our ass and waste this day or--” “- I prefer that actually,” the oldest intervenes. “Or--” Sam continues, sternly, “- we can do something useful.”

With that being said, he walks through the revolving doors of the governmental facility, followed by Dean, who mutters something unintelligible; stubborn fucker. Dean might be the older sibling here, but when Sammy has got his mind set on something, he can’t be reasoned with. Heading straight for the main desk, the Winchester brothers get into character. Sam especially looks somewhat young to be a federal agent, thankfully his height makes up for that. They both need to sell this in order to gather new information on the case. Confidently, Dean flashes his FBI identification to the woman behind the counter. “Agent Young, this is my partner Agent Angus. We’re here to see a dead body.” “You came to the right place,” she comments, apparently not impressed by their badges. She calls for an older physician in a long white coat who just passed by. “Dr. Hughes? Could you escort these two agents to the morgue?” she asks him. “Of course, I’m heading over there anyway,” he agrees, beckoning Dean and Sam to walk with him.

The hunters follow the doctor through the long hospital hallways. White ceilings, mint green vinyl floors and random photos and Picasso rip offs on the walls every now and then; the typical hospital decor the Winchester brothers are more familiar with than they would want to be. They’ve been inside medical centers plenty. To investigate a case, but also as a visitor whenever someone in their close circle got hurt on the job, but also as a patient. Hunting isn’t just a profession prone to injury, it’s worse than that. It’s a profession prone to death.

Dr. Hughes eventually breaks the silence when they reach an elevator. “Who are you here for?” “Ronald Shire,” Sam informs. Unpleasantly surprised, Hughes looks up at the tall agent. He halts by the elevator, calling it down to the first floor. It takes a second to arrive, the doctor uncomfortably shifts from one foot to the other. Dean and Sam have noticed it, however, exchanging a look.

“I’m sorry,” the physician apologizes when he realizes how his behavior might come across. “Ronald was a colleague of mine, but he was also a close friend.” “Our condolences,” Dean says, knowing all about Shire’s death after Sam filled him in earlier. Hughes pushes the button to call the elevator down, accepting the sympathy offered by the agent. “Unbelievable, isn’t it? We see death every day and yet when it hits close to home, you never see it coming.”

Wise words, applicable to everyone. He has been there on many occasions when the final hour struck; of hunters, of people they were trying to save. One would expect all this experience to give him thick skin, since he’s used to the violence and killings. But when Jess was murdered, it hit him harder than a wrecking ball.

The younger Winchesters train of thought is interrupted by the sound of the bell, announcing that the elevator has reached their level. He clears his throat and directs his attention to the doctor again. “Do you have an idea what happened to Mr. Shire?” “I did the autopsy myself; it left me stunned,” Dr. Hughes tells them as they enter the elevator.

Again the doctor presses a key and the doors close. As they slowly move down to the basement, Dean tries to find out if Hughes knows more about the case then he’s willing to let go at this point. “We think his death might have something to do with the murder that took place in the Van Dyke residence,” he fills in. “I heard about that on the news. CSU is still on that, though”, the physician says. “We have one of our agents at the scene,” Sam returns, with the short statement explaining their suspicion.

The doors open and the three enter the morgue of the hospital. It’s cool in this section and an unpleasant scent fills the area, chemicals almost masking the lingering smell of the dead. The doctor walks over to the furthest wall of metal drawers. He pulls out one of the many trays and puts on a pair of latex gloves before he zips open the body bag. “What’s so stunning about this case?” Sam wonders. “See for yourself.” Hughes unfolds the bag and both boys raise their eyebrows. “Ouch,” Dean comments.

The body of Laura’s father is badly bruised and battered, as if he got beaten up by a street gang in a bad neighborhood. His jaw is demolished, his neck broken; this is some serious abuse. The ‘Y’ shaped incisions on his torso indicated that a full autopsy has been performed on Ronald Shire, but the large stitches barely stand out between the black and broken skin.

“That’s not all,” the doctor adds as he takes out the file. “I searched every inch of his body on the in and outside, but there is not a print, not one single fiber on him that could point you fellas towards a suspect.” Dean gives Sam a look without the physician seeing it. Dr. Hughes might have never seen this before, the hunters certainly have. Ghosts never leave any trace on their victims, unless they want to.

“This caught my attention, though.” The doctor points out the bruises. “See how they run out upwards? That indicates that these injuries were caused from a lower angle. Or the killer was on its knees - which would be most unlikely - or the injuries were inflicted by someone shorter than 4 ft. 7. Someone with a growth defect, dwarf syndrome. That’s the only way I can clarify this.” “Have you considered a child?” Sam questions, carefully. “I have for a brief moment, but it’s theoretically impossible for a child to throw punches like this, even when it would use an object to create some kind of leverage, which I found no indication of,” the doctor explains. “Honestly, I’ve never seen damage done like this, not even by trained fighters. The evidence doesn’t add up in the slightest. This shouldn’t be possible.”

The boys exchange another glance; the evidence adds up just fine for them. Sam tilts his head and nods to the door, giving Dean the signal that they are leaving. “Thank you for your time, doctor.” he rounds up their visit. “If there is anything else, let us know.” “You’re welcome, I hope you’ll get this one,” Hughes mentions while he cleans up. “We’ll do our best,” Sam ensures.

The two hunters leave the morgue and step back into the elevator. As soon as the doors close, the oldest of the two turns to the other. “Laura, definitely,” the youngest brother states, determined. “Unless this town is haunted by two frustrated mini spirits, yeah, it’s Laura.” Dean agrees, watching Sam take his phone out of his pocket as they arrive at the first floor again. “Who’re you gonna call?” “The other Ghostbuster,” Sam replies, as he looks up Zoë’s number and presses the green button as soon as they step outside the hospital. “Shouldn’t we get to the bomb shelter first?” the oldest suggests, snarky. “This information could be useful”, Sam replies, but before Dean can respond to that, Zoë answers her phone.

“Sullivan.” “Hey Zoë, it’s Sam. Listen, I’ve got some info on Ronald Shire for you,” Sam cuts to the chase. “Why would you have info on Laura’s dad?” Sam cringes slightly, detecting the suspecting tone in her voice. Oh well, here goes nothing. “We went to the Medical Center to see Shire’s body.”

Complete silence, but Sam can almost hear Zoë’s blood boil on the other side of the line. Dean pulls his sleeve and gestures at him, frustrated. “What are you including me for?” he hisses, making sure Zoë can’t hear him. Sam waves him away, without making a sound he hushes his brother to be quiet, turning away from him in order not to get distracted. He takes a breath, gathering his courage.

“Zoë?” “I’m sorry, I think I misunderstood you. Did you just tell me that you deliberately messed with my case, even though I told you VERY clearly not to get involved?” The huntress’s voice trembles with anger, Sam can hear she tries to keep calm. “We figured we could spare you some time by going ourselves--” “- You FIGURED?!”

Sam cowers, her voice so sharp and loud that he doesn’t have to put her on speaker for Dean to pick up on the conversation. He did move closer to his brother, invading his personal space in order to tune in. “Better take cover,” Dean advises his brother. Annoyed, Sam pushes his brother away and focuses on Zoë again.

“We didn’t mess anything up if that’s what you’re worried about”, he states defensively. “I wouldn't give a flying fuck if you solved the fucking case! You didn’t listen!” “You’re not my boss!” Sam makes clear, not having her raging attitude, no matter how intimidated he feels by the fiery woman. “I am the boss when it comes to MY cases, damn it! This is not a fucking candy store I’m running, Sam! You can’t go do my job without telling me, you almost got me killed last time!” “It was an innocent morgue visit!” Sam exclaims while making a wild gesture, even though Zoë isn’t there to see it. “And honestly, would you have said ‘yes’ if I asked you first?”

“No of course not, you fucking asshat! That’s the fucking point!” she returns, clearly furious. “I swear to God, Sam, if you and your brother cross my path again…” “What? You’ll kill us?” Sam huffs. “Listen, Zoë. Ronald Shire was attacked by Laura, without doubt. He was a mess, his jaw was wrecked and his neck was broken, all injuries inflicted from a lower angle. That’s all the info I’ve got for you, you do with it whatever the hell you want.”

Before Zoë can return an answer, Sam ends the call. It’s only now that he notices Dean opposite of him, his arms crossed in front of him. He nods, appreciating. “No more Mr. Nice Guy. I like it,” he comments, then continues his way to the Impala. Without responding to his notification, Sam follows and catches up with him, still angry with the ungrateful attitude of the huntress. He cannot believe he saved her at least an hour and a half and this is what he gets in return; so much for gratitude.

Together they walk over to the classic Chevrolet without speaking about it further. Yet Dean can’t help but smile as he opens his door. Sam notices the grin and rolls his eyes. “Just say it,” he mutters. “Say what?” “You know what.” Dean looks at him over the top of the black Chevrolet and ponders, still deciding if he should say the words which he longs to say. He can’t help himself, he has to enjoy the moment and rub it in. His smirk grows even wider. “Hate to say I told you so.” “No, you don’t,” Sam sighs, sits down and closes the door.

Dean does the same and turns the key, starting up the Impala’s V8 engine, which lets out an enthusiastic roar. People Are Strange by The Doors is playing on the radio while Sam stares through the windshield, still bummed about the call. “Why doesn’t she just drop the act?” Sam wonders. “I’m not sure if it’s an act, Sammy.” Dean checks in both directions before steering his precious car onto the road. “I sincerely think her soul is pitch black.”

But Sam shakes his head, not buying it. “This can’t be her persona. You said it yourself; she was different when you first met her.” “So? People change,” Dean simply declares, shrugging his shoulders. “Maybe, but this is just stupid. We’re in town, bored out of our skull while she is working her ass off to finish up on time. It can’t be that hard to accept our help.” “Apparently she’s socially disturbed, Sam. Let it go already. If she can’t appreciate a helping hand, she’s not worth the effort,” the older brother suggests, not wanting Sam to be bothered by the matter. “Let’s go to Texas and hunt some wolf, huh?”

He considers the advice for a moment as they drive by Linwood Cemetery. As soon as he spots the place, he glances across the road at the Hampton Inn, but there is no sign of Zoë; she must be at the crime scene. As they pass through, he decides he wants to stay. “No. We agreed to stay in town till tonight. Zoë will leave, case closed or not. It’s almost midday, so what difference will it make if we leave now or tonight?” “Half a day,” Dean answers smartly. “Denise? Or did you completely forget about the fact that you are meeting up with her later?”

The driver of the black car raises his eyebrow at that, contemplating, because Sam is right; he did forget about his ‘date’ later today for just a second. Dean doesn’t like to admit it, but Denise is a very big plus to stay in town just a little while longer. A silence follows after Sam’s mention while his brother thinks through his options.

“Point taken,” he gives in. “But I’ll tell you one thing. Zoë is not gonna come around.” “She will, believe me. She’s not as bad to the bone as she pretends to be,” Sam states, sure of his words. After all, last night she was friendly for letting him crash in her room and transferring all that lore to his computer. “I know her better than you do,” Dean weighs up. “I don’t believe that's true,” Sam counters, shaking his head. “Wanna bet?” Dean looks aside as the argument is starting to turn into a ‘do not, do too’ fight. “Burgers for a week.” “I rarely eat burgers. How’s that gonna benefit me?” the younger sibling brings to mind.

“Okay, well… If I win, you buy me burgers for a week. If you win, I won’t give you shit for ordering a salad in every fast food joint we eat at.” The green eyed hunter wiggles his eyebrows, his arrogant grin confident, spread wide on his lips. “I’m not settling for that.” Sam huffs and shakes his head. “You can buy me whatever I order for the next seven days if I’m right.” “Deal.”

Before Dean can assure him that this is a bet he will win, his brother’s Blackberry rings. Surprised, he checks the screen for the number, his long chestnut hair falling in front of his eyes when he looks down, then he raises his eyebrows and smiles. Victoriously he shows the screen to Dean; it’s Zoë. Sam picks up his phone and puts her on speaker. “What?” he snaps, still mad at her. “What are you up to?” The youngest of the Winchesters isn’t sure if she’s asking him if he’s still intending to mess with her case or that she’s asking if he has some spare time. “Depends,” he answers, curt. “You said Shire broke his neck, so did Van Dyke.” “So?” “Might be something.”

Sam keeps his mouth shut, warning Dean to do the same with only a look and a slight shake of the head. An unpleasant silence follows. Obviously, it irritates Zoë. “C'mon, Sam. Knock it off!” “No, Zoë! We’re helping you out and this is what we get?” Sam returns. “You two nosey dickwads went behind my back! How can you expect me to be--”

They can hear her sigh and swallow down the rest of the sentence as she collects herself, trying to keep her temper in check. “I don’t like working with others and I certainly don’t want to abandon this case. I’ve never passed up a job, it’s not my style. But if I don't finish up by tonight, I don't have another option.”

“I get that, but wouldn’t it be better if we just work together now and make sure that you’ll make your deadline?” Sam suggests, calmer than a moment ago, now that the woman on the other end of the line has done the same. “Look, Zo,” Dean interrupts, adding his two cents. “I know you’re not particularly happy about teaming up - and hey, neither am I - but you’ll be able to cover more ground that way. You can’t expect us to leave town knowing you might have to face a dilemma. The sooner you close this case, the sooner we can go our separate ways.” “I don’t know...” Again a sigh while Zoë considers her next move. Sam allows the silence, granting her the time to think it through. The way he sees it, she doesn't have much of a choice. The Winchesters are the best option she’s got. “Okay, fine,” she eventually gives in. “But this is still my case. I call the shots and might we stumble on trouble, we stick to the plan. I can’t settle for anything less.” Dean has already opened his mouth to object, but Sam elbows him hard, shooting him a warning glare. “Agreed,” the youngest quickly answers, ignoring the quiet muttering from his left. “Dean?”

The older Winchester brother grinds his teeth. Shit, he does not want to bow down to her, because he knows the second he does, she will without a doubt step up to become Evil Queen Bitch. He’s never going to live it down. One case, he tells himself. One fucking case and he will never have to deal with her again. “Fine,” he utters, barely audible. “One other thing. I need to leave town tonight, case finished or not. We have to try or take care of this today, okay?” “We will,” Sam assures. “And if we run into trouble and can’t manage to wrap up, you don’t have to worry about this case. We’ll make sure to have it covered and that Laura will be put to rest.” “So, do we meet up or what?” “Yeah, sure.” “Where are you at?”

Before Sam answers he checks the name of the road they are on. “W. Kings Highway, going west. We’re staying at the Ramada Inn,” Sam tells her. “Shit motel.” He scoffs a chuckle, glad the tension has lifted. “Tell me ‘bout it.” “I'll see you at In-N-Out,” the huntress decides. “I want an Animal Burger.” “Have you had that 4x4 burger?” Dean says, his mouth watering. “The amount of meat, hmm.” “Are you kidding me? I grew up in California; In-N-Out is my jam!” “Their food is fuckin’ amazing, ain’t it?” Dean agrees. “Oh my God, yes! How they grill their cheese—”

Stunned, Sam stares from the phone to Dean and back. Did the unthinkable just happen? Did Zoë and Dean actually agree on something? Remarkable, but truly, here is the one subject they can’t fight about; food. “Zo?” he interrupts. “Yeah?” “See you at In-N-Out.” He chuckles and hangs up.

The Ramada Inn shows up in front of them and Dean pulls up into the parking lot, turning off the ignition once he has found a spot close to the entrance. Before he gets out of the car, he registers Sam, who’s wearing a boyish grin on his face. His eyes sparkle through the curtain of his bangs, his pearl white teeth on display; it’s clear he’s very much amused. “Hate to say I told you so,” Sam nags victoriously, and pushes the passenger door open.

With a confused expression upon his face, Dean gets out of his car himself. He then glares at younger Winchester over the top of the Impala, the words sinking in. Fuck, he lost a bet; Zoë came around. “No, you don’t,” he mutters, following his sibling inside. Looks like he’s going to have to live through the embarrassment of ordering and paying for salads the coming week. Oh well, at least he doesn’t have to eat them.

Thank you for reading. I appreciate every single one of you, but if you do want to give me some extra love, you are free to like or reblog my work, shoot me a message or buy me coffee (Link to Kofi in bio at the top of the page).

Read part eight here

#Supernatural: the Sullivan Series #Supernatural series #Dean Winchester series #Sam Winchester series #Supernatural OFC series #SPN #Supernatural #dean angst #sam angst #Dean Winchester fanfiction #Sam Winchester fanfiction #Dean Winchester #Sam Winchester #Zoë Sullivan #STSS #STSS 1x01 #In Bad Waters #Kate Huntington

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arazialotis · 4 years

Text

Every Time You Leave, I Hit Rock Bottom

A/N: Written in celebration for Angelina! @atc74 A while ago she celebrated 4,000 followers and 4 years on tumblr! Can you believe it?! Congratulations girl!! If you aren’t following her, do it now! You won’t be disappointed. For the duet challenge, I chose Rock Bottom (Hailee Steinfeld & DNCE) for inspiration. Give it a listen to get in the mood and let me know how I did.

Word Count: 2050

Summary: Scenes from the up and downs of Dean and Y/N’s relationship as they struggle to balance his life as a hunter.

Warnings: arguing, swearing, a hint of smut, implied cheating

****

***November 5***

“Do you love me?” You cooed in the aftermath of a passionate heat.

He chuckled, as if your question was absurd. He swam through the tangle of sheets to kiss your lips. “Of course I do.”

Though you doubted his faithfulness, he had sworn it to you. He laid his head against your chest. His hand found yours. The ring he had given you months earlier twirled gently as his fingers danced over it.

“I’m gonna miss you.” You admitted stroking your fingers through his hair.

You felt him hum in delight.

“I always miss you.”

*** November 30***

White flecks fell outside the window, joining a hefty covering on the ground. The snow muffled the sounds of the night, making the world seem at peace. Your arms held you tight, waiting for him to finish shoveling the drive. The flyer clenched in your fist crinkled as you contemplated the best way to bring it up with Dean.

He came in, a burling heap of wool and snow, his cheeks red from the blistering cold. You hustled back to the kitchen, pretending not to have lingered. The hot toddies you prepared were still steaming. You whisked in a drizzle of honey.

Dean made his way over to you, brushing snowflakes out of his hair. Your heart warmed seeing a boyish look to him.

“What?” He matched your smile.

“Nothing.” You smirked and pushed his mug closer to him. You pressed your own to your lips. “You’re cute.”

“You’re cute.” He repeated, gently kissing your forehead before taking the hot drink. He set his drink back down, the flyer on the counter catching his eye. “What’s this?”

You took another sip, concealing the flush to your cheeks. “Hmm.”

His eyes darted back and forth, scanning the paper. “It looks like Dan’s Auto is hiring.”

“Oh.” You set your mug down, moving closer to him, wrapping your arm around his waist, pretending to read with him though you already knew the words. “You’d be good at something like that.”

If he knew what you were doing, he didn’t hint at it. “Yeah, I guess.” He rubbed the back of his neck, setting the flyer back down and went back to the tea.

“It wouldn’t hurt to get more information.” You nudged.

He smiled and leaned into you. “Right now, I just want to get warm.” He nipped at your neck.

You chuckled, as heat and desire spread through you. You let the conversation end for now.

*** December 12 ***

Dean stumbled into the bedroom late at night. He’d been gone a week and a half. At first you thought he was drunk, but when your eyes adjusted to the dark, panic rose up into your chest. You scrambled out of bed and followed him into the bathroom.

“You’re hurt.” Your eyes went wide with fear.

He balled up his flannel and threw it in the sink, the water turning red with blood. Three long slashes ran from his shoulder down his arm. “It's fine.” “We need to get you to a hospital.” You stammered.

Before you could run for the keys he caught your wrist, stopping you. “With what insurance?” “God. I don’t know, we’ll figure it out later.” You pulled your arm away from his grip.

“It’s fine.” He assured, sitting down on the edge of the bath.

You closed your eyes and took a few deep breaths. “Okay.” Somehow you managed to force the panic down. “Okay.” You repeated, going for the medicine cabinet, looking for gauze, alcohol, anything that could help.

*** December 19 ***

“You’re not going back out!” You stomped your foot on the ground like a toddler who had no chance at winning an argument.

He shook his head and chuckled as if to contain his anger. “Your arm was nearly ripped off a week ago!” You continued, attempting to make him see logic. “You're in no condition to hunt.”

He threw his duffel bag over his shoulder. “I’ve had worse Y/N. Anyways, it's recovering just fine.”

Fine. You hated that word. It was if he used it to cover up any indifference growing in your relationship. You went to strike him, only to prove him wrong. His hand caught you before you could. “Are you fucking serious?” He accused you, disdain seething out of his eyes. He pushed you aside and went for the door.

The worry balled up, forming a pit in your stomach. Staying with you until he returned.

*** January 3 ***

“Don’t give me that look Y/N.” Dean could feel your scorn through the dark bedroom, dimly lit by the full moon’s beam.

“What look?” You huffed. You had woken to rustling and the spot next to you cold. He was planning to leave you. Again. You had stayed silent, watching him pack, waiting for him to realize you were awake.

“Y/N.” He groaned. “Don’t do this, not now.”

“I’m not doing anything Dean.” You argued back.

He sighed, knowing he wouldn’t be able to reason with you with anger. Releasing his own, he gently crawled onto the bed, creeping towards you. You flipped over, avoiding his gaze and pulled the blankets into a shield around you.

His breath was on the back of your neck. He spoke in a whisper. “You’re resenting me.” He kissed the back of your head. “You’re pouting.” Another kiss. He paused hearing a whimper. “And now you are crying.” He laid down and pulled you tight against his chest, a tear sliding down his own cheek.

When you finally found courage to speak, your voice shook. “I don’t want you to leave.”

“Babe… you know I have to.”

You turned around to meet him. “No, you don’t.”

His thumb wiped away a trailing tear against your skin. “Who else is going to do it?”

“... Sam.” “He’s across the country. ‘Sides, it’s only a state over. I’ll be a week, tops.” He kissed your forehead before getting up to finish packing.

You didn’t turn to watch him leave. You only stared at the empty pillow next to yours. He left the door cracked open. It wasn’t until you heard the front door shut and the rumble of his car coming to life when the anger surfaced again.

Gently grabbing for his pillow, wrapping your arms around it and burying your face in his scent, you whispered,“Fuck you.”

*** Valentine’s ***

Traditionally, the holiday hadn’t meant much to you. A way to push over priced Hallmark cards with clashing colors. But Dean was home, and so recently he hadn’t been. You fussed around the kitchen in a little black dress, concealing something skimpy and lacy underneath. Filet mignon sizzled against hot cast iron and a cherry pie bubbled in the oven. Dean shuffled behind you. You turned around hoping to be met with a kiss. Instead you saw that dreaded duffel bag.

“No.” Your heart sank. “Not today.”

He gave you that look. The look that said, this is what you sign up for.

“Can it at least be after dinner?” You pleaded.

He sighed, running his hand through his hair, contemplating it for a second. “The longer I wait, the more someone could get hurt.”

You’re hurting me, you thought to yourself. It was selfish though. You closed your eyes and hung your head in defeat.

He strided closer to you, planted a kiss onto your forehead and pulled you close to him.

“We’ll celebrate when I get home. K?”

You nodded into his chest.

*** February 25 ***

“You just got home. And you’re already leaving again!” You fumed.

“What choice do I have!?” Dean clenched his jaw, attempting to control his temper.

The nearest object to you was his phone. You picked it up and threw it at him. He easily caught it, avoiding any blow you intended. “Call someone else to take it. Don’t go. Take that job at the shop. Those are your choices Dean!”

“This is my job Y/N! This is the only life I know. I can’t sit around here, with a white picket fence, knowing people are out there are dying on my watch.”

“Then take me with you!” You pleaded. “I can’t keep watching you leave, not knowing if you’ll come back or not.” Tears threatened to spill out.

“Like hell!” He firmly protested. “I won’t put you in harm’s way.”

You rolled your eyes. “God, I wish you realized how hypocritical you sound right now. Can’t you realize that's how I feel every single time.”

“I can take care of myself.” He thumped against his chest. “I always have. And I don’t need your whiny, nagging ass causing extra stress on a hunt.”

A feral scream escaped from your throat. You slid off the ring he had given to you months earlier and chucked it across the room at him. He didn’t bother to catch it. “Fuck off Dean. You might as well not bother coming home.”

“Maybe I won’t then!” He grabbed his bag, slamming the door shut with a bang.

*** March 4 ***

“I’m so sorry baby.” Dean’s gasped. His mouth buried into the crook of your neck. Your fingers ran down his bare torso as he rocked into you. “I’ll never leave you again.”

You moaned as your bodies clashed against each other, moving together, beads of sweat outlining each muscle. He groaned, his kisses growing more hungry and desperate as he neared a climax. A whimper escaped your lips and sent him over the edge. He buried his face into your shoulder, panting for air.

With a final grunt, he was satisfied, leaving you empty and craving for more. He rolled over on his back catching his breath.

“God. I needed that.” He ran his fingers through his hair before getting up for a water break.

You turned over to your side, pulling up a sheet to cover yourself. ‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep.’

*** April 10 ***

To be fair, he did stay longer than usual. But the itch got to him. One he couldn’t help but scratch. You knew it was coming. He became more antsy. Pacing around, working on mundane house projects, spending more time outside. Honestly, it was making you anxious.

You began searching for cold cases in the area, drawing out farther until something seemed to fit. Over dinner, you handed him the phone to look over the articles. He kept his expression as blank as he could.

“What do you think?” You prompted.

He set the phone down and searched your eyes, treading lightly. “Could be a case.” He went back pushing food around his plate but not eating.

You dabbed your mouth with a napkin, and then cleared your plate, washing it in the sink. “Maybe…” You sighed. “Maybe, you should look into it.”

He came up behind you, turning off the water, and wrapping his arms around you. You both stood there for several minutes, your heartbeats matching in rhythm.

His whisper barely broke the silence. “Are you sure?”

You only nodded.

He gently kissed the side of your temple. “Love you.” He slipped away.

“Love you too.” *** May 8 ***

“Who the fuck was that Dean?!”

“Nobody!” He yelled back into his cell. “Like Hell!” A scoff made it through your seething anger.

“It was just the TV, Y/N.” He calmed his voice, to try and reason with you. “Bullshit!” Your blood began to boil. “She was right fucking next to you!”

“Stop being so fucking paranoid. You’re my one and only.” You heard the rustling of sheets.

You made your way through the dark hall to the medicine cabinet, looking for something to cool a rising migraine. “Then prove it.” “What?” He stuttered.

“Prove it! Give me a face-time tour of your hotel room.” You popped the bottle and swallowed a few pills.

His voice lowered to a rigid growl. “I don’t have to prove anything to you. If you love me, you’ll trust me.”

You slammed your phone shut and threw it across the room.

*** May 11 ***

Dean entered the home, ready for a fight. He slammed the door on the way in and tossed his key’s onto the kitchen counter.

“Why haven’t you been taking my calls?” He called out, waiting a few moments before going to look for you. “Y/N?” His voice echoed through the empty house. “What the hell?” He muttered to himself.

He paced down the hallway, calling your name again. Upon entering the bedroom, it became abundantly clear. He ripped open the closet door, and stood back. Only his items remained.

***

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#angelina’s duets reboot challenge #dean winchester #supernatural #spn #spnfandom #spn fanfiction #dean x you #dean x reader #dean x y/n

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