#listen. out of all the boys Sam's had it ROUGH and hes taking it like a goddamed champ

[mrsthunderkin]

Panique~*•°○☆▪︎°•○~

[jasmines-library]

Could you do a Winchester sister fic about her having a bad asthma attack and not being able to breathe and the boys get all scared

Breathe

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Note: First off i want to apologise for taking forever to write this. or anything. but we're back!

Word Count: 1k

Warnings: Asthma attack.

Honestly not too sure how I feel about this one….but it’s my first time writing in weeks so pls bear with.

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Your fist collided with the Demon’s face as you swung around to face her. If the insistent throbbing in your hand wasn’t an indicator of how hard you had hit her, the stream of dark droplets falling from her nose, and the grunt she made as she went careening sideways were. She bounced back quickly though. Much quicker than you would have liked. She scowled, her black eyes narrowing as you swung a fist back in retaliation forcing you to lean back uncomfortably on your heels. You heard a clatter to your left as an array of cutlery went flying across the floor as Sam managed to tackle the demon he was dealing with. The woman in front of you glared at you with malice as she heard her counterpart go down. With a little shrug, and a petty smirk, you continued to dance around her, trying to get a good stab at her with your angel blade. 

When you heard Dean breathe out a sigh of relief as he managed to deal with the latter of the ones he had been fighting, you didn’t allow yourself to get distracted and keep your focus on her. Distraction is a hunters number one enemy. But you can feel yourself getting tired. You can feel the burn in your muscles and the ache in your lungs as it grows harder and harder to suck air into them. 

But then she made a mistake: She twisted to the side, raising her arm to swing a left hook, but left her right side open. It gave you the perfect opportunity, and you plunged the demon knife into her. She lit up in a spark of yellow before falling to the ground. 

It was straight after that that everything sort of…hit you. Now that you weren’t focused on ‘not-dying’, the tightness in your chest was more noticeable. And that made you panic. And of course, that made everything much worse. Clutching one hand to your chest and the other against the wall, you tried to get in another breath, only for it to feel as though it had been cut short. When Sam came through the door, his self-accomplished grin was cut short as he saw you struggling to breathe. 

“Hey, Hey.” Sam rushed over to you, his hand resting on your shoulder as you looked up at him, wide-eyes and breathing in short, frantic gasps. “Hey. Calm down. You’re fine. Breathe”

You try to listen to Sam. Try to get your lungs to open up and to breathe normally. But they are stubborn and seem to do the exact opposite. 

Sam’s heart seems to break a little when you look up at him. “Where’s your inhaler?”

You blink. Your chest heaves. “Car-”

Your older brother curses mentally, and you think that he calls out to Dean, because he’s rounding the corner one second and is hovering above you the next. 

“Dean…her inhaler. It’s in the car. Side pocket.” Sam tells his older brother, his tone firm and authoritative. Dean nodding, his hair falling over his eyes as he scrambles back out of the house, swerving around the fallen demons to get to the car as quickly as he can.

Sam’s hands remain on your shoulders. His large hands take up most of your shoulder as they rest on the coloured flannel of your shirt. They’re calloused and rough, but seem to act almost as a safety blanket keeping you grounded. He shifts one of them to your chin, pinching it gently between his thumb and his index finger as he lifts up your chin. His irises seem to shift in the light as he gets you to look at him. Hazel brown, then green and back to hazel again. They’re glossy, concerned, but hold a sense of ease. Protectiveness. 

“You’re okay, Kiddo. Just breathe. Dean will be back any second now.” Sam reassures, although he is unsure if he’s trying to reassure you or himself more. He’s panicking. And, he's beginning to grow antsy because Dean has yet to return from the car which he parked so impossibly far away. Damn stealth. 

An impossible amount of time later less than a minute Dean comes skidding to a halt, inhaler in hand. Dean has already shaken it and removed the cap, so he fumbles around to get it in your hand. Once your fingers wrap around the plastic your brain goes into autopilot. The plastic is quickly brought to your lips and the medicine pumped into your lungs as you inhale deeply. It doesn’t take long for the medicine to work its magic. You feel the burn in your lungs subside slightly, and a flood of air comes rushing into your lungs as you breathe deeply, leaning against the wall as you collect yourself, taking a moment to yourself. 

Dean raises a hand towards you, brushing the hair out of your face. “You okay sweetheart?”

“I……” You take another deep breath. “Yea. sorry.”

“No need to apologise, kid.” Dean says “As long as you’re alright.”

“I’m fine.” you say, taking one last puff of the inhaler before replacing the cap and securing it in your pocket. 

“You have seriously got to start remembering to bring that with you.” Sam reprimands, always the sensible one.

You sigh. “I know. But it’s so annoying to carry around.”

“We know it is, sweetheart, but you kind of need it”

“I know…..”

“So you’ll bring it with you?”

“No promises.”

Dean pinches the bridge of his nose. He swears you give him more and more grey hairs everyday. You just grin up at him and he can’t help but shake his head affectionately at your stubbornness.

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[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Every Fucking Time

Summary: You want to help Dean, but he knows you can't.

Warnings/Explicit 18+: Lots of angst! Smut! Unprotected PinV sex. Slightly rough sex. Dean being an asshole. Dean being a broken boy. Hurt/comfort.

Pairings: Dean x Reader (You)

Word Count: 2,737

A/N: So, I just rewatched 13x18, Bring 'Em Back Alive, and the scene at the end never fails to break my heart. I just wanna make Dean feel better! 😫 But it got me thinking about how unlikely Dean would be to accept that help, and how his anger might manifest. Anyway, this is what spilled out of my brain as a result.

A/N 2: The title is a reference to Dean's line, "Every time we get close, it all falls apart. Every frickin' time." I have changed it to the non-network TV version because we all KNOW that's actually what Dean said.

You just wanted to help. You needed to help. You needed to make it better for him. 

Dean had slipped back home through the rift barely an hour earlier, talking about the apocalypse world Charlie and how he'd left her and Ketch behind, promising he would come back with reinforcements.

Then you, Cas and Sam had given him the bad news; no one could go back, you couldn’t send reinforcements. Gabriel was gone, taking all his archangel grace with him.

“So if it’s gone, then that means that we can’t open that door again. If we can’t open the door, then I shoulda never come back!” He'd shouted.

He'd tried to tamp down the rage and anger that simmered just behind his forced calm. Nevertheless, it exploded out of him making you all jump.

“Son of a bitch!” He'd screamed, sending books and papers crashing to the ground as he swept them from the table. “Every time!”

You could feel his frustration and pain like it was your own as his voice dropped, defeated and broken for the millionth time. “Every time we get close, it always falls apart…every fuckin’ time.”

When he walked away, looking as though the weight of the world was once again on his shoulders, you’d tried to follow after him, but Sam had grabbed your arm gently, holding you back.

“Leave him for now, Y/N. He needs time.”

You should have listened to Sam, but you could feel Dean’s pain like a lance in your side and you were desperate to heal him. So less than an hour later, you went looking for him. But he wasn’t in his room, or the Dean cave. The kitchen was empty and so was the garage. 

You finally found him in the infirmary. He was sitting on one of the beds, sewing together a nasty looking bullet wound.

“Dean!” You called out worriedly as you rushed down the steps. He glanced up at you but then went back to stitching himself up. “Why didn’t you tell us you’d been shot?” You reprimanded him.

He shrugged his unwounded shoulder. “No big deal. Ketch patched me up on the go, just didn’t have time to sew it up properly.”

You watched him silently for a moment, wincing every time the needle pierced his inflamed skin. He’d taken his shirt off so he could tend to his wound, and you couldn’t help but take an inventory of his other numerous scars. Jagged knife cuts, more round bullet holes, and a few waxy looking old burns, all marred his otherwise perfect, lightly freckled torso.

Some of the scars were very faded, barely noticeable, while others were newer; some of them were still red and angry looking. They were a patchwork of pain - a tapestry of more than thirty-five years of hunting, fighting, falling, getting up, and fighting again. 

It made you exhausted just to see it; it made your bones ache.

You stepped a little closer to him, but he kept you at arm’s length with an aura of silent, repressed anger that you could practically see pulsing off of him.

You wanted to help him so badly.

“Dean, I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head, not looking up from his work. “No, let’s not. I don’t wanna talk about it.”

You let out a small sigh. Of course you don’t. You thought with a flash of frustration.

You were quiet another minute as he finished the last few stitches. Then you smiled a little, trying a different tactic. “So, there was a Charlie over there? That’s amazing. What was she like? Was she the same as our Charlie?”

Dean didn’t answer right away. He snipped the thread he was using and tossed the small silver scissors back into the first aid kit he had open on the bed beside him. He took some rubbing alcohol and poured it onto a gauze pad, holding it to his wound and sucking in a breath through gritted teeth before answering.

“Yeah sure, she was like our Charlie.” His voice was a growl of pain. “She was a badass, determined to fight injustice, sticking up for her friends, risking her life for them. And yeah, just like our Charlie, I left her on her own to be butchered.”

Tears pricked your eyes. “Dean that’s not true…you didn’t-”

“Seriously, Y/N. Just fucking don’t.”

You were silenced again, watching him clean up and toss the bloody bandages into the trash as he stood up from the bed. He reached for his flannel and tried to put it on, slightly hampered by his newly bandaged shoulder. You stepped forward to help him with it, and when it was on, but still unbuttoned, you slid your hands inside, down over his ribs.

You kissed his chest gently, and felt him twitch slightly. 

“Y/N.” He said quietly and you could hear the warning in his tone. 

You knew he was in a bad place, and the two of you had only recently begun to move your relationship out of friendship and into something more, so sex was still new between you. But you felt the overwhelming, screaming need to help him, to hold him close and let him feel your love shine through. You’d been in love with him for a long time, but you’d never told him. You suspected he didn’t love you back, though you hoped he might someday.

For now, though, you’d settle for being a soft place to land, if he’d just let you.

“Dean.” You said softly, kissing his chest again. “Let me help you.”

He pushed you back and turned away. “I don’t need help.”

You persisted, wrapping your arms around his waist from behind. “We all need help from time to time, Dean.”

“Y/N!” He said again, louder this time, his earlier anger resurfacing. “I told you, I’m fine. Just drop it.”

But you couldn’t. You wanted to help him, whether he accepted it or not.

You moved around him, so you stood in front of him again. “Dean, you’re not fine. I just wanna help you.”

Dean scoffed. “Well you can’t fucking help me, Y/N. You can’t make it better.”

“I could try.” You cupped his cheek, but he pulled it out of your grasp, turning his head. You stood on tiptoe to try and kiss him. “Let me try, Dean. Let me try to help you.”

Dean grabbed your wrists from around his neck, glaring down at you, eyes blazing. “You fucking can’t, do you not hear me? You can’t help me, no one can help me! Because all I do is fuck up; all I do is leave my friends and family to die. And fucking you isn’t gonna change that; unless you have some kind of magical cunt that can open portals to another dimension, you can’t fucking help me!”

You felt your stomach drop, and an immediate ache started, high in your gut, clenching your insides and making you feel short of breath. You stepped back from Dean and swallowed convulsively, trying not to let go of the tears that clogged your throat. But it was a losing battle and they were soon coursing down your cheeks.

You nodded slightly. “K, yeah.” You didn’t know what else to say, turning away just as remorse began dawning in Dean’s emerald eyes. “Sam was right…I shouldn’t have come.”

You took off, bounding up the stairs as Dean called out to you. You ignored him, desperate to get away before you collapsed completely. 

You heard Dean following you, chasing you down the bunker hallway and you sprinted away. You got to your room just in time to slam the door and lock it just as Dean skidded to a halt outside.

He banged on the door, but you just moved over to your desk, dropping into the chair and swiping at your tears over and over, unable to make them stop.

“Y/N, come on! Open the door. Look, I didn’t mean that, okay? I just...just let me in.” He banged again. When you wouldn’t open it, he just kept banging. Finally he yelled at you through the wood.  “You know, I can just break down the fucking door! Let me in!”

He slammed his hammer like fist against the door again, rattling it in its frame. You jumped up and ripped open the door just as he was about to start pounding again. So his fist was raised and his features were twisted in a snarl as you looked up at him. But you were calm, even though tears still leaked from your eyes.

“Enough.” You said quietly. “Look, I shouldn’t have kept bugging you, you made it very clear you didn’t want me there and that I couldn’t be of any help. So, it’s fine. I’ll leave you alone now, and you can please stop raging at me and trying to smash down my door.”

You swallowed tightly and then nodded at him. “Goodnight.”

You closed your door softly and walked back to slump onto the end of your bed. You dashed your tears away as quickly as they fell, trying to dash away Dean’s angry words too, but failing miserably. 

After nearly half an hour your tears finally dried up and you decided to get ready for bed, sadness and hurt making you slow and sluggish. As you pulled your big sleep shirt on over your head, however, a noise caught your attention just outside your door. 

You walked softly to the door in your bare feet, cracking it open an inch to look out into the hallway. What you saw made brand new tears cloud your vision.

Dean was sitting across from your door, his back against the wall. His knees were bent slightly with his elbows resting there and his feet planted on the floor. His eyes were shut, his head leaning back against the wall with tears streaming silently down his cheeks. Or almost silently. As you watched, his face spasmed with pain and his breath seemed to catch in his throat, making the muffled sound you’d heard; it sounded like his pain was choking him.

You opened the door wider and Dean sensed you, his eyes springing open. At first it seemed like he might bolt, but then he shook his head as he stared at you. “Baby, I’m so sorry.” His voice was a harsh whisper. “I swear to god, I didn’t mean to hurt you like that. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me.”

He thumped his head back against the wall twice. “I just break things. Everything.” He punctuated the word by slamming his elbow back into the wall as well, hard enough that you were worried he’d break the bone.

You hurried forward to kneel on the floor in front of him, squeezing in between his knees. You pulled his hands into yours as you tried to reassure him. “Dean, that isn’t true. You don’t break everything; you fix things, save things. It’s in your DNA to try to right all the wrongs in the world, but sometimes you just can’t.”

He stared at you intently and once again you found yourself desperate to try to ease the bottomless ache you could see in his mossy green eyes.

His voice was barely a whisper as he reached out to run his thumb across your cheekbone. “Did I break us?”

You took a deep breath. “Your words hurt me.” He closed his eyes and nodded. “But…”

You were quiet a moment before deciding it was worth taking a chance, so you just said it. “But I love you, and my love doesn’t break that easily, even if my heart does.”

You took his hand from your cheek and held it against your chest, over your heart. “Not ever. No matter what the future holds, my love is unbreakable, even when you try to smash it to pieces with both hands.”

Dean’s expression was closed off, and you couldn’t see through it to his thoughts. After a moment he shook his head. “Don’t love me, sweetheart. I can’t…I can’t protect you if you love me. Something will come and take you from me - use you to hurt me somehow.” He closed his eyes again and repeated his words from earlier in the evening. 

“Every time I get close, it always falls apart.” He opened his eyes slowly and stared intently into your soul. “Every fucking time.”

He gazed at you for a long time, and you let him, hoping he could see that you weren't afraid to love him, and you weren't going to be scared away.

Suddenly he reached out to yank you into his lap and slam his mouth down on yours. You gasped into the kiss and then whimpered as he clutched you tight to him.

He pulled away from you, breathing harshly. “Am I forgiven? Because I was such a liar. I do need you.” He dipped his head to nip at your pulse point and flick his tongue against your salty skin. “I need you so fucking bad.”

You nodded, flushed and aching for his touch. “You’re forgiven.”

He crushed your lips with his once again, standing up without letting you out of his arms. He pushed you backwards through your bedroom door and closed it with a soft click, as he yanked your t-shirt off over your head, getting you naked in one quick motion.

You pushed his open flannel down his arms, being careful not to aggravate his newest injury. You fumbled with the button on his jeans for a moment, hands trembling, as he palmed your breast and squeezed, pressing his hard, blunt fingertips into your yielding flesh.

You threw your head back as he pulled your nipple into his mouth and bit it gently. You sank your hands into his short hair, tugging sharply and moaning loudly. He pulled away, just far enough that he could spin you around to face the wall. With a hand against your upper back, he bent you over slightly and lifted your arms, so that you braced them against the brick.

Then he raised your right leg, wrapping his forearm over top of it and spreading you open. You felt the knuckles of his other hand brush over your dripping wet core as he unbuttoned his jeans. Seconds later, you felt his tip pressing against your entrance and then you let out a scream of pleasure as he slammed into you hard and fast.

As he fucked up into you, he pulled you open even wider, reaching down with his free hand to rub circles into your clit with his calloused fingertips.

Eventually he dropped your leg, and pushed your feet apart while he pulled your hips back towards him. He never faltered or slowed his pace, just manhandling you into the positions he wanted.

You were bent at a ninety degree angle now, hands still braced against the wall, with your head hanging between them as Dean continued to pound into you so deep that he was almost lifting you off the floor with each thrust. 

He clamped his hand on the back of your neck, using it as leverage to piston his hips forward like a jackhammer. He tilted your pelvis forward slightly and suddenly he was perfectly, relentlessly hitting your g-spot over and over until you were screaming out his name and crashing into a hard wall of pleasure. You shook with your climax, but Dean didn’t stop, riding you through your first orgasm and into several more.

Your throat was hoarse from shouts of pleasure before Dean finally cursed loudly, shouting your name and surging into your body. With one last driving push,  you could feel him spurting into you hot and thick. He rocked his body against yours a few more times as his cock continued to twitch inside you.

Finally he stilled, both of you breathing harshly now, bodies slick with sweat. He laid his chest against your back, his arm still wrapped around your waist, keeping you close, keeping himself locked inside your slick warmth.

“Y/N.” You could hear the thick emotions even in his soft whisper. “You know, you save me. Every time I think I can’t recover, every time I think I won’t get back up. You make me think I can. You tell me I will.” 

He paused and his voice was velvety and warm as he breathed out across your skin. “You save me.” He kissed your shoulder gently. “Every fucking time.”

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[wekiamo]

still love you

first request!! hope you guys enjoy it (ik the title is so cliche im sorryy 😭)

part 2 here

warnings: spoilers for Scream VI, swearing, angst, fluff, mentions of getting stabbed and murdered, and i think thats all!

no, this can’t be happening. ethan landry? your fucking boyfriend? no, this had to be some sort of joke.

at least, that’s what you thought. but you knew well it wasn’t true, and you were just trying to convince yourself none of this was real. well, it didn’t work. you were still there, standing in front of all these killers you’ve been running away from.

you were still trying to process everything that was happening, when quinn steps forward your direction with her knife in her hand, and your brain just stops working correctly. you could be killed right there and right now. you certainly didn’t want to die, you still had so much to live - you wanted to travel the world, learn new languages, meet new people and even have an own family. and you wanted to experience it all with ethan. the guy you just found out to be a psycho killer, who was just trying to kill you this entire time. all of your moments together were fake? you felt the need to cry even harder than you were already. ethan, the guy who you loved the most in this world and you thought loved you back, did not want you or your love

he wanted your blood. he wanted to see you dead.

“oh poor [name], you’re not even what we want. there’s no need to be so scared of us this soon.” quinn said as she turned to sam and tara “it’s you two bitches we want”

“why? why are you all doing this? did we ever do something to you-” tara was cut off by quinn’s voice “yes you little whores you KILLED OUR BROTHER” she said, yelling at the two sisters.

“we don’t know who you guys are talking about, seriously!” tara said with a desperate voice and look in her eyes, while sam looked like she was processing their words slowly.

“is… richie… your brother?” sam asked, between pauses.

“yes, and it was you, sam. you were the one to kill him you fucking slut” quinn said kind of quiet, but loud enough for everyone to hear.

“now, we all know both of you girls love [name] like she’s your sister too. wouldn’t it be such a despairing thing to watch her be stabbed and killed right in front of you?” bailey asked, making ethan smirk “i don’t think we should do it right in front of them, dad. they shouldn’t even get to see it, only listen to her screaming miserably while she’s dying” the tall boy said, gaining everyone’s looks at him.

“nice one, ethan. wanna do the honours?” bailey asked the boy, who was smirking once again.”

“you better not fucking TOUCH her, you asshole” sam yelled. “you don’t get to yell at us, bitch” quinn, that was next to her and tara, threatened sam with the knife in front of her throat

“come over here” bailey ordered, and you not obeying him. “no, no i’m not going to.” you said crying, trying not to fall on your knees from the mental weakness you were experiencing.

“NOW.” ethan yelled in a rough tone. you stepped forward slowly scared for your life as you could perfectly listen to tara’s whines. “stupid slow whore” quinn said behind you as she pushed you hardly, making you stand in front of bailey and ethan.

were these your last moments?

you finally managed to say something: “ethan, i- how could you do this to me?”

“yeah, and how could you be so dumb?“ ethan laughed as bailey and quinn did too, you looking at each of them, with fear and disbelief in your face.

“well now i guess it’s time to say goodbye to your little friends” the boy said, grabbing you roughly by your wrist and pushing you in front of him, taking both of your hands and putting them together on your back as he grabbed your shoulders, guiding you somewhere.

“tara, sam, please, i don’t wanna die.”

you were now somewhere darker. you couldn’t really see what was happening inside the place, but you knew something: these were probably your last moments.

he took his hands off your shoulders and stopped guiding you, as you stopped walking too. he was now standing right in front of you.

“i loved you deeply, ethan. do you know how much i trusted you? or how many times i argued with my friends for defending you and your unexistent fucking innocence? of how many times i cried just by feeling guilty of being suspicious of you? i loved you and trusted you with my heart, ethan.”

“listen [name], i need you to scream” the boy said gently, making your brows furrow in confusion.

“what?”

“scream like you’re getting stabbed or something.”

“wait, you’re not going to kill me..?”

“don’t ask too many questions. just do it, quick before they come and check what we’re doing.”

you smiled and hugged him tight. you knew this could be some sort of trap but you still felt relieved that there was a chance of you getting out of here, and see all of your friends alive and happy again.

“okay i’m ready. 1, 2, 3-”

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Wendigo | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, Dean's a dick but so is the reader

Word Count: 8817

A/N: Happy Saturday! Enjoy the next chapter!! Taglist/Requests are open!!

Mobile Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

Supernatural Series Rewrite Masterlist

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You were curled up against the backseat of the Impala writing in your journal and humming along to Dean’s Foreigner cassette tape when Sam jerked awake in the front seat. You jerked up as well, concerned.

Dean shot his brother a worried look. “You okay?”

Sam blinked and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah, I'm fine.”

“Bull. Nightmare?” you asked.

The younger brother just cleared his throat in response. 

“You wanna drive for a while?” Dean asked.

You and Sam gave him an incredulous look. 

“Dean, your whole life you never once asked me that,” he laughed.

“Just thought you might want to. Never mind.” He rolled his eyes and returned them to the road. 

“Look, man, you’re worried about me,” Sam sighed. “I get it, and thank you, but I'm perfectly okay.”

His brother just hummed in response.

“I’ll take you up on that driving offer, though,” you chimed in.

“Not a chance, sweetheart.”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“And I told you I wasn’t listening.”

“Dick.”

Dean just scoffed in response. 

Sam’s unfolding of a map brought the conversation back on track. “All right, where are we?”

“Just outside of Grand Junction,” you answered. You leaned over his shoulder and pointed at the spot labeled “Grand Junction” and drew a trail with your finger over to a spot labeled with the coordinates Dean had found in John’s journal. 

Sam hesitated before speaking again. “You know what? Maybe we shouldn't have left Stanford so soon.”

Dean shook his head. “Sam, we dug around there for a week. We came up with nothing. If you wanna find the thing that killed Jessica—”

“We gotta find Dad first,” Sam finished.

“Dad disappearing and this thing showing up again after twenty years, it's no coincidence.”

“Wait, showing up again?” you asked. Even after poking around at Stanford, this was the first you’d heard of a previous encounter with the creature.

“I thought Sam would’ve told you,” Dean said.

“Told me what?”

Sam turned to face you. “You remember what I said about my mom dying? She died the same way Jess did.”

You nodded in solemn understanding. 

The car went quiet again; the silence only broken by the older brother. “Dad will have answers. He'll know what to do.”

Sam scanned the map again. “It's weird, man. These coordinates he left us. This Blackwater Ridge.”

“What about it?” you asked, putting your chin on Sam’s shoulder to look at the map.

“There's nothing there. It's just woods.” He put down the map, looking past your head at Dean. “Why is he sending us to the middle of nowhere?”

Dean just shrugged in response. 

The three of you found yourselves in a ranger’s station in Lost Creek National Forest just outside of Blackwater Ridge. You and Sam scanned a three-dimensional map of the forest atop a large table in the center of the room. 

“So Blackwater Ridge is pretty remote.” The brunet tapped his finger against the ridge’s label on the map. “It's cut off by these canyons here, rough terrain, dense forest, abandoned silver and gold mines all over the place.”

However, his brother’s attention could not be pulled away from a picture on the wall. “Dude, check out the size of this freaking bear.”

You walked over to him, and he was right. The thing was massive. The man standing behind its corpse looked like a dwarf in comparison. 

“There’s about a dozen or so grizzlies in the area,” you added. 

You and the boys were startled by a ranger’s voice coming from behind you. “You three aren't planning on going out near Blackwater Ridge by any chance?”

“Oh, no, sir, we're environmental study majors from UC Boulder, just working on a paper,” Sam assured him, laughing awkwardly.

Dean grinned and raised a fist. “Recycle, man.”

‘I could hit him. Jackass.’

The ranger obviously did not believe him. “Bull.”

Your eyes flicked to Dean, who was unmoving. 

“You're friends with that Haley girl, right?” the ranger continued.

“Yes. Yes, we are, Ranger— Wilkinson.” Dean faltered only to read the ranger’s name tag.

“Well I will tell you exactly what we told her. Her brother filled out a backcountry permit saying he wouldn't be back from Blackwater until the twenty-fourth, so it's not exactly a missing persons now, is it?”

You shook your head. 

“You tell that girl to quit worrying, I'm sure her brother's just fine.”

“We will.” Dean paused only for a moment. “Well, that Haley girl's quite a pistol, huh?”

“That is putting it mildly.”

You laughed. ‘I’m sure we’d get along great.’

“Actually,” Dean stopped the ranger from leaving the room. “You know what would help is if I could show her a copy of that backcountry permit. You know, so she could see her brother's return date.”

The ranger eyed Dean curiously, but still got him a copy of the permit. 

Dean laughed smugly as the three of you left the station, waving the paper around.

“What are you, five?” you asked him.

“Listen, sweetheart, I consider this a major success.” You quirked a brow at him, mildly annoyed he called you that stupid name again. “This eliminates a lot of the groundwork we normally have to do.”

“Fair point,” you shrugged. 

Sam broke the somewhat comfortable silence. “Are you cruising for a hookup or something?”

Considering the thought you’d just had, you were taken slightly aback. “What do you mean?”

“The coordinates point to Blackwater Ridge, so what are we waiting for? Let's just go find Dad. I mean, why even talk to this girl?” Sam was more talking pointedly at Dean and not you. You came to a stop on your respective sides of the Impala.

You couldn’t quite see Dean over the top of the car. “I don't know, maybe we should know what we're walking into before we actually walk into it?”

You could practically feel the look Dean was giving Sam.

“What?” the brunet scoffed.

“Since when are you all shoot-first-ask-questions-later, anyway?”

“Since now.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, biting the inside of your lip. “Really?’ you muttered, getting down into the car. 

***

Sam walked a little further up the walkway to the Collins house than you and Dean did. 

“Forty-five minutes in that copy room for this?” you inspected Dean’s small, fake park ranger ID.

“Can’t rush art, sweetheart.”

“Now you’re just working it into every sentence because you know it aggravates me.”

"Yup,” Dean chuckled. 

You smirked lopsidedly and Dean knocked on Haley Collins’s front door. A quite beautiful, dark-haired girl opened it moments later. 

“You must be Haley Collins. I'm Dean, this is Sam, and (Y/N), we're, ah, we're rangers with the Park Service. Ranger Wilkinson sent us over. He wanted us to ask a few questions about your brother Tommy.”

Haley hesitated. “Lemme see some ID.”

Dean held up the ID you’d previously been inspecting to the screen door. The girl looked between the ID and Dean. 

“Come on in.”

“Thanks.” 

The door swung open, allowing Haley to catch a glimpse of the Impala. “That yours?”

“Yeah.”

“Nice car.” She began leading the three of you into the home.

Dean looked back at Sam, mouthing something excitedly to him that you couldn’t quite make out. You rolled your eyes. You decided then and there you would push your attraction to him to the side for the rest of the time you were working with the brothers. To you, he was just an asshole playboy. 

Sam’s voice broke you out of your thoughts. “So if Tommy's not due back for a while, how do you know something's wrong?”

You took in the sight of the table set for dinner and a young boy who looked to be about thirteen already picking at his plate of food. 

Haley entered the room with a bowl and placed it onto the table. “He checks in every day by cell. He emails, photos, stupid little videos—we haven't heard anything in over three days now.”

“Well, maybe he can't get cell reception,” you suggested.

“He's got a satellite phone, too.”

‘Well, there goes that theory.’

“Could it be he's just having fun and forgot to check in?” Dean threw in.

The teenage boy clanked his fork against his plate, sharply stating, “He wouldn't do that.”

You eyed the boy, getting a read on him.

“Our parents are gone,” Haley said. “It's just my two brothers and me. We all keep pretty close tabs on each other.”

You nodded in understanding. As much as you were trying to dislike her, it wasn’t working all that well.

“Can I see the pictures he sent you?” Sam asked.

Haley pulled out her laptop to show Sam the folder of pictures and videos her brother had sent her. “That's Tommy.” You could hear the sadness in her voice.

She clicked through to the most recent video. 

A scruffy, presumably twenty-five year old man appeared onscreen. “Hey Haley, day six, we're still out near Blackwater Ridge. We're fine, keeping safe, so don't worry, okay? Talk to you tomorrow.”

Something flickered past outside the young man’s tent. Your brows furrowed. 

“Well, we'll find your brother. We're heading out to Blackwater Ridge first thing,” Dean assured her.

“Then maybe I'll see you there,” she answered. “Look, I can't sit around here anymore. So I hired a guy. I'm heading out in the morning, and I'm gonna find Tommy myself.”

“I think I know how you feel.”

Your eyes flicked over to Dean, growing angry at what you assumed to be an attempt at seducing the girl.

‘She’s mourning the potential loss of her brother, and you’re gonna try and charm her? Asshole.’

The younger Winchester once again broke you out of your thoughts. “Hey, do you mind forwarding these to me?”

“Sure.” Haley clicked away on her laptop again.

*** 

You and the boys wound up at a bar. The table was covered in newspapers, John’s journal, and beer bottles; some full and some half empty. 

“So, Blackwater Ridge doesn't get a lot of traffic. Local campers, mostly. But still, this past April, two hikers went missing out there. They were never found.” 

You gestured to John’s journal, which Sam slid over to you. You began flipping through it. 

“Any before that?” Dean asked. 

Sam pulled out a newspaper to show his brother. “Yeah, in 1982, eight different people all vanished in the same year. Authorities said it was a grizzly attack.”

You leaned across the table, squinting at the headline. You felt Dean’s eyes flick to your breasts that had subsequently been pushed up in your wife beater as you leaned over. 

You glared at him. “Stay focused, Winchester.”

Dean rolled his eyes, apparently unable to find his way to a witty response. You turned your attention back to the headline that read, “ GRIZZLY BEAR ATTACKS! UP TO EIGHT HIKERS VANISH IN LOST CREEK AREA.”

Sam pulled out his laptop. “Before that, 1959 and 1936. Every twenty-three years, just like clockwork.”

“You have WiFi in here?” you questioned.

“Don’t need it. Just wanted to look at Haley’s video.” He pulled it up from a folder on his screen. 

“Oh, shit. I almost forgot. Can I see that?” You hopped off your stool to get between the two brothers. “Watch this.” You clicked through the three frames of the video containing the shadow you’d seen flash across the screen. “That's three frames. That's a fraction of a second. Whatever that thing is, it can move.”

Dean reached across you to hit Sam’s shoulder. “Told you something weird was going on.”

Sam rolled his eyes, closing his laptop. “Yeah. I got one more thing.” He put a newspaper article between you and Dean. “In 'fifty-nine one camper survived this supposed grizzly attack. Just a kid. Barely crawled out of the woods alive.”

You skimmed the article briefly. “Is there a name?”

The only survivor of the attack in the article Sam showed you and Dean was a child at the time. He now lived a life of what appeared to be solitude. He drove a beat up truck that was parked haphazardly in his driveway and lived several miles out of the city. You took in the poor old man’s messy house as he led your trio into his living room.

“Look, ranger, I don't know why you're asking me about this. It's public record. I was a kid. My parents got mauled by a—”

Sam interrupted him. “Grizzly? That's what attacked them?”

Mr. Shaw lit a cigarette, took a deep puff, and nodded. 

“The other people that went missing that year, those bear attacks too?” Dean’s tone was slightly pointed. “What about all the people that went missing this year? Same thing?”

The old man continued to take drags of his cigarette. He seemed almost scared to entertain any other explanation aside from a grizzly bear attack. 

Dean continued to pressure him. “If we knew what we were dealing with, we might be able to stop it.”

Mr. Shaw shook his head. “I seriously doubt that. Anyways, I don't see what difference it would make.” He sat down in his recliner. “You wouldn't believe me. Nobody ever did.”

Sam sat down opposite the old man. “Mr. Shaw, what did you see?”

“Nothing. It moved too fast to see. It hid too well. I heard it, though. A roar. Like... no man or animal I ever heard.”

“It came at night?”

He nodded. 

“Got inside your tent?”

“It got inside our cabin. I was sleeping in front of the fireplace when it came in. It didn't smash a window or break the door. It unlocked it.”

You tried to keep your face from conveying your intrigue and tinge of fear.

“Do you know of a bear that could do something like that? I didn't even wake up till I heard my parents screaming.” You could see Mr. Shaw becoming lost in his mind. 

“It killed them?” Sam continued.

“Dragged them off into the night.” The old man shook his head as if to shake away the memories. “Why it left me alive... been asking myself that ever since.” He took a brief pause before reaching to the collar of his wife beater. “Did leave me this, though.” He pulled it down to reveal three long, deep claw mark scars. Through morbid curiosity, you were tempted to run your fingers over the jagged edges of the scarring. You couldn’t imagine how painful and angry the marks must have been when the poor man first got them. 

“There's something evil in those woods. It was some sort of a demon.”

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Shaw. We’re sorry about your parents,” you told him, turning away. “Have a good night, sir.” 

Mr. Shaw seemed too caught up in his own head to respond with more than a wave, letting a cloud of smoke slither out of his mouth. 

*** Later that night, you and the boys had just booked a room in yet another crappy motel.

‘One of these days I’ll treat myself to a stay in a halfway decent hotel.’ 

Before the three of you would be turning in for the night, you were headed to Dean’s car to pack your bags for the early morning you were about to have. 

“Spirits and demons don't have to unlock doors.” Dean broke your train of thought. “If they want inside, they just go through the walls.”

“So it's probably something else, something corporeal,” Sam said.

“Corporeal? Look at you, smartass,” you laughed.

“Shut up. So what do you think?”

“The claws, the speed that it moves…” Dean trailed off. “Could be a skinwalker, maybe a black dog. Whatever we're talking about, we're talking about a creature, and it's corporeal. Which means we can kill it.” 

“True,” you started. “But how are you gonna know what to bring to kill it with if we have no idea what it is?”

“Just trust me on this one,” Dean replied. “There’s not much a gun won’t be able to take care of.” He let the door to the motel almost completely swing shut behind him; nearly hitting you in the face. 

You caught it just in time. “Right, right. Just like you ‘took care’ of Constance by shooting her.”

“Hey, it worked, didn’t it?” Dean raised a brow at you, just barely turning over his shoulder to give you his response. He started busying himself in the weapons box in the back of his car.

“I mean, just barely. Nearly caught me in the crossfire.”

Dean rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically. “And what a shame that would’ve been.”

“Hey!” You shoved his shoulder with yours. 

He glared at you in response. 

Sam, who had been quiet the last few minutes, spoke up. “We cannot let that Haley girl go out there.”

His brother was rummaging through the weapons box; haphazardly throwing guns into his duffel bag. “Oh yeah? What are we gonna tell her? That she can't go into the woods because of a big scary monster?”

You found a shotgun that was slightly smaller than the rest, giving it a once over before moving to put it in a duffel bag of your own. Before you could fully get it settled in the bag, Dean took it from you.

You went to protest, but Sam cut you off by saying, “Yeah,” as if it was obvious. 

Dean turned his attention away from you and your shotgun long enough for you to steal it back. 

“Her brother's missing, Sam,” he tried to reason. “She's not gonna just sit this out. Now we go with her, we protect her, and we keep our eyes peeled for our fuzzy predator friend.” 

Dean seemed to notice you had taken the gun back and glared at you. He picked up his own duffel, and you closed the weapons cavity. 

“Finding Dad’s not enough?” Sam countered while you closed the trunk. “Now we gotta babysit too?”

You and Dean gave Sam a look.

“What?” he snapped.

You shook your head. 

“Nothing,” Dean replied. He threw the duffel bag at him and walked off. 

***

You yawned and pulled yourself into a tighter ball on the backseat of Dean’s Impala. You hadn’t gotten much sleep last night for a reason you couldn’t quite place.

“Don’t get too comfortable, sweetheart, we’re here,” Dean told you.

“Fuck.” You grabbed yours and Dean’s duffel bags off the seat next to you and got out of the car to feel loose gravel grating against your boots. 

A man who looked to be in his late fifties was up ahead of you next to a Jeep with Haley and the teenager you recognized as Haley’s younger brother. You approached the other three from behind Sam and Dean.

“You guys got room for three more?” the older brother asked.

Haley crossed her arms. “Wait, you want to come with us?”

“Who are these guys?” The older man pointed at your group.

“Apparently this is all the park service could muster up for the search and rescue.”

Sam headed past everyone, and you followed.

You assumed the middle-aged man was the guide Haley had talked about hiring the previous day. He was very skeptical of the three of you. “You're rangers?”

Dean’s confidence never wavered. “That's right.”

“And you're hiking out in biker boots and jeans?” Haley was apparently skeptical, too. 

“Well, sweetheart, I don't do shorts.”

‘That’s what he calls me.’ You couldn’t quite understand the pang that went through your chest when he used that nickname for her. You pushed the thought aside once again, reminding yourself that you weren’t special in Dean’s eyes. To you, he was becoming more of a playboy asshole with each passing moment. You hoped your attraction to his beautiful green eyes and sharp jawline would soon turn to disdain. 

Speaking of which, he appeared next to you as the guide spoke once more. “What, you think this is funny? It's dangerous back country out there. Her brother might be hurt.”

You turned around, trying to explain Dean’s attitude away. “He knows that. He just has a funny way of showing it.” You hoped Dean didn’t miss the bite in your tone. And from the way you could feel his glare burning a hole through your skull, you were sure it wasn’t lost on him.

The guide shook his head, brushing past you and the brothers. He headed into the forest, and you followed a few paces behind. You would never admit it, but the woods had always unsettled you just a bit. You tightened your grip on your bag and pushed forward. 

Dean had apparently learned the guide’s name from Haley while you were lost in your own anxiety. “Roy, you said you did a little hunting.” He quickened his step to pass you and get up next to Roy. 

“Yeah, more than a little.” The response came gruff and disinterested. 

“Uh-huh. What kind of furry critters do you hunt?”

You could feel where this was going. ‘Don’t fucking provoke him, Winchester.’

“Mostly buck, sometimes bear.” The disinterest was ever present in Roy’s tone as he continued to scan the treeline in front of him. 

Dean passed him up, doing that obnoxiously confident backwards walk again. “Tell me, uh, Bambi or Yogi ever hunt you back?” 

Suddenly, Roy grabbed Dean’s jacket roughly. You nearly flinched.

“Whatcha doing, Roy?” Dean’s tone had hardened.

Roy grabbed a stick, and peering around Dean you could see the jaws of a bear trap close around it inches from Dean’s boot. 

“You should watch where you're stepping. Ranger.” 

‘Damn.’

Roy dropped the stick and took the lead once more.

Dean turned around to the rest of the group. “It's a bear trap.”

You scoffed. 

You could hear Haley’s quickened step crunching leaves as she passed you to catch up to Dean. “You didn't pack any provisions. You guys are carrying a duffel bag. You're not rangers.” She grabbed his arm, spinning him to face her. “So who the hell are you?”

The teenage boy passed his sister and Dean. You and Sam hesitated behind Haley, shooting Dean a quizzical look. Dean jerked his head for the two of you to go on. You followed Sam forward, but hung back close enough that you could hear Dean and Haley’s conversation. 

“Sam and I are brothers, and we're looking for our father. (Y/N) is—” you were interested in this explanation, “—a friend of ours.” 

‘Oh, so we’re friends now.’

“He might be here, we don't know. I just figured that you and me, we're in the same boat.”

“Why didn't you just tell me that from the start?”

“I'm telling you now. 'sides, it's probably the most honest I've ever been with a woman. ...ever. So, we okay?” 

‘Wonder how many times he’s used that line.’ You caught that same squeeze happening in your chest happening again. You desperately wished to get ahold of yourself and snap out of it. ‘He’s just pretty to look at. He’s a complete douche. Get it together, girl.’

You had missed Haley’s response to Dean’s “heartfelt” admission, but heard “And what do you mean I didn't pack provisions?” You heard the rustling of a plastic bag behind you, and remembered the bag of peanut M&Ms he had bought at a gas station before coming here. You heard Dean start walking again, and you hurried ahead to catch up with Sam and not look like you were snooping. 

Dean had apparently noticed you were hanging back and chuckled to himself. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment. 

He walked up beside you. “Jealous?”

“What?” you turned to him, feigning disgust. “Fuck no.”

“So… you were just snooping because…?”

You wanted to smack the smug grin off his face. His amusement at your aggravation riled you up even more. “I was just curious what she thought of us. And to be frank, I don’t exactly trust your ability to explain things away. That’s all.”

“Uh-huh.” You knew he didn’t believe you. “That’s all.” 

You petulantly stole the bag of peanut M&Ms from him.

“Hey! (Y/N)!” 

You marched on.

“This is it. Blackwater Ridge,” Roy announced after what felt like hours of walking. Your anxiety around getting lost in the forest was only deepening. That was what it all boiled down to. You had a fear of not being in control, and the idea of a place where every “landmark” looked the same, wildlife ruled the terrain, and being alone in it was pretty much a death sentence, scared you pretty severely. Not to mention, the time you almost bled to death in the middle of the woods had another hunter not found you.

You had no means of identifying where you’d come back from. All the trees seemed the same to you. You had no idea how you were going to get back to the car at the end of the day; if you were even going to make it out of here by the end of the day. You had been walking for so long that you were sure you’d be sleeping out here tonight. The thought of that frightened you even more. 

What truly unsettled you was that the sounds you had been hearing up until you made it to Blackwater Ridge— crickets, leaves rustling, birds chirping— all of it had been silenced. 

“I'm gonna go take a look around,” Roy announced.

The younger Winchester stopped him. “You shouldn't go off by yourself.”

Roy’s snark almost rivaled Dean’s. “That's sweet. Don't worry about me.” He waved his gun around and pushed between the two brothers to head deeper into the forest. 

Dean turned to the rest of your group. “Alright, everybody stays together. Let's go.”

‘Great. More fucking woods.’ You marched forward, trying to put on a brave face.

Sam’s eyes softened when he caught sight of you. “You okay?”

Apparently, your “brave face” wasn’t as brave as you thought. “Yeah, why?”

“You look… kinda nervous.”

“Yeah, I am. I’m, uh, kinda scared of the forest, honestly.”

“Aw, sweetheart,” Dean’s mocking tone interrupted your vulnerable moment. “You’re scared of a little woods?” He jutted out his bottom lip, feigning a pout. 

“Fuck off, Winchester. I’m fine.”

“Whoa, touchy. Relax.” Dean held his hands up in surrender. “Was just poking fun, that’s all.”

“Okay, well, it wasn’t funny. So, fuck off.” You rushed ahead, still white-knuckling the duffel bag on your shoulder. 

Before Dean could catch up to you or respond, Roy called out from quite a bit ahead. “Haley! Over here!”

Haley took off in the direction of Roy’s voice, closely followed by you. Haley froze at the sight in front of her. “Oh, my God.”

In the clearing Roy had found, bloodied, torn open tents surrounded mutilated camping supplies and backpacks. Deep gashes in the tent material and the surrounding trees were jagged and stained with blood around the edges. The sight wasn’t making your queasiness any better.

“Looks like a grizzly.”

‘No, it doesn’t, Roy,’ you thought. 

Haley’s backpack hit the ground next to you, and she tore through the campsite; screaming her brother’s name. 

Sam moved to quiet her down. She kept screaming. A much harsher “Shh!” passed Sam’s lips, finally getting the girl to settle down. 

“Why?” she questioned defensively. 

“Something might still be out there,” he answered. 

Dean called his brother’s name from the other end of the campsite. You followed Sam over to the sound of Dean’s voice.

You crouched down next to Sam. Dean snapped a stick and pointed to a set of drag marks on the ground. “The bodies were dragged from the campsite. But here, the tracks just vanish. That's weird. I'll tell you what, that's no skinwalker or black dog.”

The three of you stood and returned to the campsite to find Haley crying on the ground over her brother’s broken and bloodied phone. 

“Hey, he could still be alive,” Dean told her. She shot him a confused and slightly angry look. 

Out of nowhere, a scratchy male voice started gutturally calling, “Help! Help!”

Roy was quick to run to the shouter’s aid. However, you weren’t so sure it was a real person screaming like that. 

“Help! Somebody!” came again.

The brothers started off to follow Roy. 

“Wait, guys!” you called, not wanting to be left alone despite your hesitation. 

“C’mon, (Y/N)!” Sam called.

You dropped your duffel in your rush to follow Sam’s voice. When you found where the group had gathered, you could see the brothers searching the treeline. You licked your teeth, upset that your intuition was right. Your group had found no one.

“It seemed like it was coming from around here, didn't it?” Haley said, confused.

“Everybody get back to camp,” you ordered.

You followed the path you were pretty sure would get you back to the mangled campsite. Thankfully, your sense of direction was right, but all of your supplies had been taken by the time you returned. 

“Our packs!” Haley exclaimed.

Roy grumbled, “So much for my GPS and my satellite phone.”

“What the hell is going on?” Haley was catching on. 

“It’s smart. It’s trying to isolate us so we can’t call for help. It knows we won’t last long without supplies,” you stated. 

“You mean someone, some nutjob out there just stole all our gear.” The guide’s voice was hard and angry.

“I need to speak with you two. In private.” You pulled the brothers aside by their jackets. Dean shrugged your hand off him. 

“Can I see your dad’s journal?” you asked. Yours had been taken along with your duffel bag. 

“No, why?” Dean asked petulantly. 

“Please, dude, c’mon.” You were not in the mood.

“Give it to her, Dean,” Sam chimed in.

Dean rolled his eyes and handed it over. 

You flipped through until you found a page marked by a First Nations-style drawing of a tall figure with long claws labeled “Wendigo.” You looked up at the boys expectantly.

“Oh, come on, wendigos are in the Minnesota woods or, or northern Michigan. I've never even heard of one this far west,” Dean responded.

“Think about it, Dean, the claws, the way it can mimic a human voice,” you tried to reason. 

“Great.” He took his pistol out of his belt. “Well, then this is useless.”

“I told you guns don’t work on everything,” you quipped.

“Shut up.”

Sam took the journal from you and handed it back to his brother. “We gotta get these people to safety.” He led you and Dean back to the group. “All right, listen up, it's time to go. Things have gotten...more complicated.”

Haley seemed pissed. “What?”

“Kid, don't worry.” Roy’s tone was almost patronizing. “Whatever's out there, I think I can handle it.”

“It's not me I'm worried about. If you shoot this thing, you're just gonna make it mad. We have to leave. Now,” Sam countered. 

“One, you're talking nonsense. Two, you're in no position to give anybody orders.” Roy was now getting in Sam’s face.

“C’mon, Roy, chill out,” you told him, pressing a hand to Sam’s chest to keep him from stepping to Roy.

Sam let you keep your hand there, but still bit back at Roy. “We never should have let you come out here in the first place, all right? I'm trying to protect you.”

“You protect me? I was hunting these woods when your mommy was still kissing you good night.” The guide was so close you could smell the chewing tobacco on his breath.

Sam still refused to back down. “Yeah? It's a damn near perfect hunter. It's smarter than you, and it's gonna hunt you down and eat you alive unless we get your stupid sorry ass out of here.”

Roy laughed mockingly. “You know you're crazy, right?”

“Yeah? You ever hunt a wen—” 

Dean pushed you out the way and shoved his brother back. “Relax!”

Haley got between you, the boys, and Roy. “Stop. Stop it. Everybody just stop. Look. Tommy might still be alive. And I'm not leaving here without him.”

You considered for a moment the implications of what may happen if you allowed them to stay. 

Dean broke the silence. “It's getting late. This thing is a good hunter in the day, but an unbelievable hunter at night. We'll never beat it, not in the dark. We need to settle in and protect ourselves.”

“How?” Haley asked. 

“I’m not gonna sugarcoat this,” you began. “We don’t really have the time for the ‘monsters under the bed are real’ talk. This thing is a Wendigo. I’m gonna start carving some symbols into the ground. No one crosses the circle once I’ve drawn it. Got it?”

Haley nodded at you. “What can I do?”

“Build a fire with— sorry, I never caught his name,” you gestured to the teenager next to her. 

“Ben,” Haley told you. 

“Ben. You two start gathering enough wood and tinder to keep a fire going. Don’t go too far, though, please.”

She and Ben nodded at you before setting off.

“Thank you,” you called after the Collins siblings. “Sam, Dean, help me with the Anasazi symbols.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Dean said. You were surprised at his compliance.

After a while of scuttling across the forest floor drawing a circle of Anasazi symbols around the campsite, the sun had set. Haley and Ben had long since returned and were tending the fire. As you finished the last symbol, you brushed the dirt off your hands on your jeans. 

Haley looked up at you from her place by the fire. “One more time, that's—”

“Anasazi symbols. It's for protection,” Dean explained. “The wendigo can't cross over them.”

Roy laughed, feeling the need to assert the fact he thought this was bullshit. 

“Nobody likes a skeptic, Roy,” Dean told him, clearly fatigued of the man’s attitude.

Roy turned his attention back to the treeline with his gun over his shoulder. You followed Dean over to where Sam sat away from the group at the edge of the campsite. 

“You wanna tell me what's going on in that freaky head of yours?” Dean asked his brother.

“Dean—” the younger one began to protest. You sat down next to him.

“No, you're not fine.” Of course, he already knew what Sam was going to say.  “You're like a powder keg, man, it's not like you. I'm supposed to be the belligerent one, remember?”

You laughed. “Yeah, I’ve got enough of that attitude with just him, Sam.”

Dean nudged the tip of your boot with his harshly. You returned his glare petulantly. 

“Dad's not here. I mean, that much we know for sure, right? He would have left us a message, a sign, right?” Sam’s mind was clearly going a mile a minute.

“Yeah, you're probably right. Tell you the truth, I don't think Dad's ever been to Lost Creek.”

You decided to just sit back and listen for a moment before throwing your two cents in. 

“Then let's get these people back to town and let's hit the road. Go find Dad. I mean, why are we still even here?” Sam threw his hands up in frustration. 

“This is why.” Dean held out his dad’s journal to his brother. “This book. This is Dad's single most valuable possession—everything he knows about every evil thing is in here. And he's passed it on to us. I think he wants us to pick up where he left off. You know, saving people, hunting things. The family business.”

Sam shook his head. “That makes no sense. Why doesn't he just—call us? Why doesn't he—tell us what he wants, tell us where he is?”

“I dunno. But the way I see it, Dad's giving us a job to do, and I intend to do it.”

Sam’s eyes began to well with tears. “Dean, no. I gotta find Dad. I gotta find Jessica's killer. It's the only thing I can think about.”

“Okay, all right, Sam, we'll find them, I promise. Listen to me.” Sam looked up at Dean. “You've gotta prepare yourself. I mean, this search could take a while, and all that anger, you can't keep it burning over the long haul. It's gonna kill you. You gotta have patience, man.”

Sam looked away again, still fighting the tears congealing in his water line. “How do you two do it? How does Dad do it?”

You let Dean take that question. “Well for one, them.” He gestured to Haley and Ben. “I mean, I figure our family's so screwed to hell, maybe we can help some others. Makes things a little bit more bearable.”

You paused, looking down at the dirt and twigs below you before speaking. “It’s kind of the same for me. I don’t have a family anymore.” You felt Dean’s gaze on you, but kept the burning in your cheeks at bay. “This is really all I’ve ever known. I know I couldn’t go back to a normal life after all this. So, I do what I can to help everyone else’s lives feel a little more normal. Not everybody needs to know what’s really out there. It kinda brings me peace knowing I’m helping somebody else live their life relatively worry-free.”

Dean continued. “I'll tell you what else helps.”

You looked back up at him. 

“Killing as many evil sons of bitches as I possibly can.” 

You smiled at Dean genuinely for the first time. 

A twig snapped, breaking you and the boys out of the little bonding moment you’d just had. The same, slightly unhuman grainy voice screamed out again from somewhere in the trees. “Help me! Please!”

Dean stands with his gun. You thought about pointing out the fact that it was useless, but decided to keep it to yourself. 

“Help!” the strained sound came again.

Sam shined his flashlight through the tree line.

“He's trying to draw us out. Just stay cool, stay put,” Dean told the group.

“Inside the magic circle?” Roy quipped.

“Shut up, would you?” You snapped, narrowing your eyes at him. 

“Help! Help me!” The voice seemed to become more distant before a low growl emanated from just outside the circle.

Roy pointed his gun at the sound. “Okay, that's no grizzly.”

“Oh, now you believe us,” you quipped. 

“(Y/N),” Dean warned, still facing the outside of the circle. 

Something rushed past where Haley and Ben were standing. She let out a scream. 

“It's here,” the younger Winchester stated.

The guide shot at the rustling bushes, and then again. “I hit it!” He took off before you could protest.

“Roy, no!” you immediately ran after him.

You could hear Dean behind you addressing the Collinses, but barely registered it while trying to follow Roy. 

“Roy! Come back!” you called. 

“It's over here! It's in the tree!” the man called back.

Just as you reached him, something grabbed onto Roy’s shoulders and began pulling him up into the tree above.

“Roy!” you grabbed his ankles, doing your best to pull him back down to the ground. 

Roy was screaming above you, and the Wendigo’s strength was too much for you. Roy’s screaming was cut off sharply by a snapping sound. In that moment, you knew he was gone. You let Roy’s legs go and dropped back down to the ground. 

The Winchester brothers appeared at that second, rushing to your side.

“You okay?” Sam asked, helping you up. “Where’s Roy?”

You shook your head. “He’s gone.”

You and the boys headed back to camp to find Haley and Ben huddled together. Haley was caught off-guard by your return, and nearly took you out with her makeshift torch-weapon. “Shit!” she yelped. “You scared the crap out of me!”

“Sorry,” you laughed. “Easy, tiger.”

She threw her torch back into the fire. “Where’s Roy?”

Your smile faded. “I tried to help him. I’m sorry.”

She nodded somberly. A saddened, heavy air fell over your camp as the remaining five of you tried to go to sleep before your undoubtedly busy day tomorrow.

Haley and Ben settled down near the fire with tatters of backpacks and tent material as pillows and blankets respectively. You and Dean forced Sam to lay down and rest because it was evident via the bags under his eyes that he’d had none over the last several days. 

“I’ll take first watch,” you told Dean, settling your back against the stump of a tree near where Sam had started falling asleep.

“Not a chance, sweetheart.”

“First of all, stop calling me that,” you snapped. “Second, it wasn’t a suggestion. I’m taking first watch. Go to sleep.”

“Why are you so insistent on this?” Dean furrowed his eyebrows at you.

“Why don’t you trust me?” you countered.

“I don’t know, maybe because you’re the last person to have seen my dad before he ‘mysteriously disappeared’?”

“You’re not seriously suggesting—” you scoffed, and Dean cut you off again.

“Maybe because I don’t even know you. Maybe because you so readily agreed to just hitch a ride with Sam and I the day Jessica died. Maybe those are some good reasons not to trust you.”

“Dean, I had nothing to do with your dad’s disappearance. And in case you haven’t noticed, I’m on my own. Sorry that I was just excited to finally have someone willing to take me along with them. And I don’t give a shit about you, honestly. I do give a shit about Sam, though, and I’m not gonna leave while he’s in this headspace. And I wanna help you find your dad.”

“Why do you care so much?” he hissed in retaliation.

“Because I don’t have any family. I want to help reunite yours. Like you said earlier, it helps you feel a little better and sleep a little easier at night.” Your voice had softened considerably, and you turned your attention from Dean to your hands folded in your lap. 

“Fine, but after we find my dad, you’re gone,” he responded after a moment.

“Fine.” You turned away from him, hugging your knees to your chest. “I’m still taking first watch.” 

“Whatever, (Y/N).” You could hear Dean moving around behind you. 

“Goodnight,” you said. 

All you got was a huff in response. 

At some point that night, Sam was actually the one to take over your watch. He’d woken up from a nightmare, and you knew he wouldn’t be getting back to sleep any time soon. You did your best to get some sleep despite your heightened sense of awareness from your unsettling surroundings and the anger you still felt at Dean after your argument. 

When you did awaken, Sam was sitting against the tree next to you, Dean was talking to Haley about the origin of Wendigos, and Haley was grilling Dean about how he knows about monsters.

“Kind of runs in the family,” was all Dean answered her question with. 

You felt Sam push off the tree behind you. You still hadn’t rolled over from your sleeping position. 

“So we've got half a chance in the daylight,” Sam announced to the group. “And I for one want to kill this evil son of a bitch.”

“Well, hell, you know I'm in,” you heard Dean respond. 

“'Wendigo' is a Cree Indian word. It means 'evil that devours',” Sam explained. 

You began stretching while Dean continued educating Haley and Ben. “They're hundreds of years old. Each one was once a man. Sometimes an Indian, or other times a frontiersman or a miner or hunter.”

“How's a man turn into one of those things?” Haley asked.

“Well, it's always the same,” the older Winchester continued while you started to make your way over to them, brushing leaves out of your hair with your fingers. “During some harsh winter a guy finds himself starving, cut off from supplies or help. Becomes a cannibal to survive, eating other members of his tribe or camp.”

“Like the Donner Party.” That was the first you’d ever heard Ben speak.

“Cultures all over the world believe that eating human flesh gives a person certain abilities. Speed, strength, immortality,” Sam continued. 

“If you eat enough of it, over years, you become this less than human thing. You're always hungry,” Dean finished.

“So if that's true, how can Tommy still be alive?” Haley waited for the answer with baited breath.

“You're not gonna like it.”

“Tell me.” Haley steeled herself.

“More than anything, a wendigo knows how to last long winters without food. It hibernates for years at a time, but when it's awake it keeps its victims alive. It—” Dean seemed to be searching for the right words, “—uh, it stores them, so it can feed whenever it wants. If your brother's alive, it's keeping him somewhere dark, hidden, and safe. We gotta track it back there.”

“And then how do we stop it?”

You spoke up for the first time, holding an empty beer bottle, a white cloth, and a can of lighter fluid you’d found from near the camp. “Guns are useless, so, Molotov cocktail, baby.”

You could swear Dean cracked a smile at you, but you refused to acknowledge it. 

The sun had risen much higher since your crew had first started walking. You had passed multiple trees with bloodied claw marks on them. It was starting to unsettle you, quite honestly. You’d just passed the seventh or eighth claw-marked tree  when you decided to bring Sam’s attention to your thought process.

“You know, I was thinking, those claw marks are so clear and distinct. Not at all as jagged as they were on Mr. Shaw’s scar or the tree where the thing snatched Roy. They were almost too easy to follow.”

Almost as if on cue, a low growl rumbled from above and trees rustled. Haley looked up before jerking herself out of the way. And good thing she had, because Roy’s corpse soon landed where she’d stood. 

Dean inspected Roy’s corpse while Sam helped Haley up. “His neck's broke.”

The growling continued. 

Upon hearing the sound, Dean started to bark out, “Okay, run, run, run, run, go, go, go!”

You immediately split. You were always quite a fast runner and light on your feet. You and Haley took the lead of the group and could hear the boys’ thundering footsteps behind you. 

Before you knew it, the growling had landed right in front of you. You and Haley were brought to a skidding halt before the creature. Haley yelped as the creature grabbed your legs and began dragging the two of you. You took the bag of peanut M&Ms you’d stolen from Dean out of your jacket’s inner pocket. You let the bag’s contents out slowly as sticks and rocks scraped up your dragging body. The last thing you felt was a sharp pain on the back of your head before you vision blacked out completely.

The next time you came to, the first thing you felt were your aching wrists and hands on either side of your face. You could faintly hear Dean calling your name, and your vision began to get less hazy as Dean’s voice became more clear. 

When Dean’s annoyingly beautiful, worried face finally came into focus, you said the first thing that came to mind. “Aren’t you a little short for a stormtrooper.”

You could hear Sam laughing behind Dean and Dean sighed. If you didn’t know any better, you would say he sounded relieved. 

Sam reached above you to cut your wrists down. “You okay?”

Despite your aching joints, you said, “Yeah.”

Sam helped you over to one of the cave’s walls. “You sure you're alright?”

“Yeah. Yep,” you groaned. “Where is he?”

“He's gone for now.” 

“Oh, thank god,” you breathed, making Sam laugh a little. “Oh, sweet.” You noticed the stolen duffel bags next to you and started rummaging through yours. Haley let out a shriek, causing you to jerk your head in her direction. She’d found her brother, and thankfully, he was alive. 

“Cut him down!” Haley ordered. Sam got to work. 

You found a flare gun in Dean’s duffel bag, saying, “Check it out.” to the rest of your group.

“Flare guns. Those'll work,” Sam responded, grinning.

You laughed, throwing one of the guns at Dean who caught it easily. He twirled it around his finger, smirking at you.

“Enough fooling around, let’s go,” Haley urged. She shouldered her brother, and with Ben’s help, started moving down the mine shaft.

You and Sam held up the rear of the group while Dean took the lead. Amidst the clunky shuffling of Tommy’s weakened body down the shaft, you could hear the same deep, low growling you’d heard in the forest. 

“Looks like someone's home for supper,” quipped Dean, scanning the corridor ahead of him.

“We'll never outrun it,” Haley said.

Dean looked back at you and Sam. “You thinking what I'm thinking?”

“Yeah, I think so,” Sam responded.

“I don’t,” you chimed in.

“You’ll catch on,” Dean shot back. “All right, listen to me. Stay with Sam and (Y/N). They’re gonna get you out of here.”

“What are you gonna do?” Haley asked the older Winchester. 

He winked at her, shooting her that same smile he’d shot you one of the first times you’d met him. You fought the urge to roll your eyes. He started yelling moments later, walking away from you. “Chow time, you freaky bastard! Yeah, that's right, bring it on, baby, I taste good.”

‘I bet he does.’ You surprised yourself. ‘What? What the fuck? He’s an asshole.’

Sam’s voice brought you out of your head. “All right, come on! Hurry!”

Your group rushed down the tunnel. You stayed in the rear, and Sam headed up to the front. He began leading your group down to where you could faintly see a bit of daylight peeking through. 

And then, the growling again. 

“Fuck,” you muttered. “Get him outta here!” you instructed the Collinses. 

“(Y/N), no,” Haley told you.

“Go!” you urged her. 

She finally nodded and started pulling her brothers down the tunnel with her. You aimed your flare gun at the direction where the growling was coming from. 

“C’mon, motherfucker,” you grumbled, scanning the tunnel. 

“(Y/N)!” Sam called from behind you. 

You wheeled around to come face to face with the Wendigo. In your startle, you missed your shot with the flare gun. Your only other option was to take off after the three Collins siblings, closely followed by Sam.

“Come on, hurry, hurry, hurry,” Sam ordered the group. “Get behind me.” Given Sam’s size, he was able to hide all three Collinses behind him. You knew your pistol was no use, but you still aimed it at the creature anyway. 

The Wendigo approached, taking its time in getting to you. 

“Hey!” you suddenly heard Dean from behind the Wendigo. It wheeled around, only for Dean to shoot it in the stomach. 

Flames curled up the Wendigo’s horribly disfigured body in twisted tendrils. The creature let out a howl before collapsing to the ground in a pile of burning embers. 

Dean was revealed behind where the Wendigo previously stood. “Not bad, huh?”

Despite yourself, you grinned. 

A quite chipper, clearly freshman EMT had patched you up upon your return to civilization. You had an uncomfortable laceration on your neck, a few scrapes above your eyebrow, and your wrists burned from where you had been tied up. You’d survive, it would just take you a few days to recover from. 

You watched from a short distance as Haley approached Dean, both of whom had been patched up. You scowled as Dean smirked lasciviously at Haley and couldn’t help the bile rising in your throat when Haley leaned in to kiss Dean’s cheek. She said one final thing to Dean before walking toward the ambulance carrying Tommy with Ben. 

“Thanks, (Y/N)!” she called to you.

You waved at her with a lopsided smile. She returned your grin before hopping into the back of the ambulance. 

Sam motioned for you to come back over to Dean’s car. 

“Man, I hate camping,” said Dean as you approached.

“Me too,” you shivered.

“Still scared of the woods?” he asked you, his tone slightly patronizing.

You ignored his tone and answered earnestly. “Definitely. Probably more so, now.” You crossed your arms over your body and hugged yourself. 

A moment of silence passed before Dean addressed his brother. “Sam, you know we're gonna find Dad, right?”

“Yeah, I know,” he nodded. “But in the meantime? I'm driving.”

Dean lolled his head to the side dramatically before tossing the keys to Sam. Recalling your fight with Dean at the campsite, you hesitated to get in the car when the brothers did. 

“(Y/N), what are you doing?” Sam asked out of the driver’s side window. “Let’s go.” 

You nodded, conceding, and hopped into the backseat. You threw your legs up on the leather beside you and stared out the window. Out of the corner of your eye, you could swear Dean was staring at you. 

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891

[stardewstardropthoughts]

SDV Bachelors guilty pleasures/kinks/fetishes in the bedroom? 🫦🥵💖💫

MDNI these aren’t the longest but I hope you like them! I had fun writing them lol

Harvey:

Listen, I’m not saying explicitly that he wants to play doctor in that light but I’m not denying it either

Obviously he keeps his work very professional but in his downtime for play? Naughty man

Also big on erotic massages both giving and receiving

Has so many different scented oils for any occasion or mood

Also likes to cum inside you, but understands if you don’t want that do to risk of pregnancy or other issues

But like if your afab he’s definitely got a little bit of a lactation fetish I think, mostly just how big and heavy your breasts get

But also very into cock and ball worship, giving and receivin

Sam:

This man is a sub leaning switch, loves to have his partner take control

Will wear a collar if you ask him too, please ask him too he’s to shy to bring it up himself

Likes to be cuffed and overstimulated

Major praise kink, please tell him he’s your good boy

Loves seeing you in lingerie, lace is his favourite texture to feel against his bare thighs well you bounce on his cock

Pull his hair, gently though. Nothing to rough for him

Elliott:

Wax play is an absolute yes for this man

Along with food play, whipped cream and chocolate sauce? Yes please

Big on giving you praise and telling you how well you take him

Loves to leave little hickeys on your neck and chest

Also loves to hold hands while making love

Big into cock warming, tried it once when you were needy while he was writing and has never looked back, one of his favourite intimate activities

Also loves make out sessions, just lazy mornings in bed with you, tangled in each others arms, hands wondering each others body’s while your mouths mould together

Sebastian:

Hear me out here okay?

He’s a soft dom, likes to be in control but doesn’t want to inflict much pain

Has a knife kink but has one of those prop knifes that’s really dull so that he doesn’t actually risk cutting you

Will overstimulate you to the point of tears because he loves to see them running down your pretty face

Loves to praise you on how well your doing and how your being such a good boy/girl/pet for him

Low key has a daddy kink I think

Also has handcuffs and leather restraints for you

Shane:

This man is absolutely a dom and I cannot be convinced otherwise

Big sir kink, loves to be in a position of authority over you

Wants you to wear a collar, it’s more of a subtle necklace with a lock on the back that he holds the key to

Loves marking you up, bites, hickeys, bruises. He absolutely wants to see the aftermath of a session on you

Loves seeing you in lingerie for him, specially anything light blue

Loves to praise and degrade you equally

Has safe words in place and if your mouth is too full to speak you are to tap his thigh three times for stop, twice for slow down and once for all good when he checks in on you

Spanking is his favourite punishment

Overstimulation is a very close second, wants your brain to be mush by the time he’s done with you

Alex:

Look, I know this might disappoint some but I personally think he’s pretty vanilla, which is totally fine!

Will rail you on his gym bench though

Also loves the way you look in workout gear

Loves to praise you and also likes being told how well he’s doing and how good he makes you feel

Will venture into erotic massages because they’re both good for you and killer stimulation

Loves when you swallow after going down on him, almost immediately back at half mast when you show him you’ve swallowed the whole load

[whimsyfinny]

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Charlie discovers the Winchester boys to be struggling with keeping the bunker tidy, looking after themselves and being able to do their job simultaneously. Luckily she has a friend who’s from a Hunter family that is in need of work and can help them with research. Or so she thought that’s what her job would be. When Dean sees your more domesticated side, his head won’t stop swimming with all the wrong ideas.

Slow burn, enemies to lovers, smut

Warnings: big smut - oral (fem receiving), rough sex, PinV, angst, Dean being cute

Chapter Word Count: 3158

—-MDNI—-

A/N: ahhhh so back to the normal shenanigans. Nil this chapter is loosely inspired by the song ‘Fuck Away The Pain’ by Divide the Day. Also I’m making some changes to how I link in my chapters, because I have quite a few now and it takes fucking ages. Also it’s 1:30AM and I’m tired so I’ve proof read as best as I can, let me know if you see any errors.

——————————————————————

New readers start here: Prologue

Previous: Chapter 11

I’m Not Your F*cking Maid

Chapter 12

At some point during the quiet ride home I had fallen asleep, because when I woke up I was in my bed atop the covers, still fully dressed. Not knowing what hour it was I rummaged around for my phone, finding it placed carefully next to my books on my bedside table. The brightness from the screen made me wince, my sensitive eyes finally adjusting after a few moments to read 4:17AM. I couldn’t stop the groan from slipping out and I flopped back onto my pillow. I lay there, listening to the humming vents in the bunker, taking in the deafening silence as I took long, slow breaths. Every time I closed my eyes I saw Daniel. Just not the Daniel I knew. Not the boy who lived in band t-shirts and scruffy jeans, but the strange man who wore a three piece suit and sprouted fangs from his jaw. I didn't know that person, and I'm glad I never would. My mind then drifted to Dean; seeing his confused face and shocked expression towards the revelation that I KNEW the vampire about to be killed. My face scrunched like I'd tasted something sour at the thought. I couldn't place my finger on it, but the whole situation felt wrong - uncomfortable. Like I'd been unfaithful even though I'm technically not tied to anyone. It felt like I'd been unfaithful to Dean, and we all knew the last thing he wanted was commitment. Is that what I wanted? Dean? Something more than just carnal desire? A relationship? Security? Someone to call mine? My head felt like it was starting to spin as I spiralled down a rabbit hole I had no intention of venturing down. I shook the intrusive thoughts from my head, deciding that it was the very last thing I needed to be thinking about right now. Sitting up slowly I swung my feet over the edge of the bed, my socked-feet gently connecting with the floor as I quietly left my room, heading down towards the kitchen. The grumbling of my stomach reminding me that I've not eaten for about twelve hours.

My arrival to the kitchen turned heads. More heads than I anticipated being there. In all honesty, I thought everyone would have been in bed at this hour. Apparently not. Of course there was Sam and Dean, Charlie, and that strange angel - what was his name? Castiel? But there was also a woman who I’d never seen before. She had short dark hair and a kind face, but there was something sad and sorrowful about her smile. The five pairs of eyes scorched my skin and I stopped in my tracks, taking a tentative step backwards. The only thing stopping me from turning tail and running out of there was the soothing voice calling my name that somehow instantly calmed my nerves. It was like molasses; sweet and deep and as intoxicating as aged liquor. Before I even had a chance to change my mind about sticking around, Dean had swallowed the distance between us and enveloped me in a crushing embrace. A strange instinct took over and I buried my makeup-smeared face into his chest, feeling the devastatingly familiar burn of hot tears start to well up and spill over.

“Dean-” my voice was small and hoarse as I squeaked out his name, his arms tightening around me reflexively.

“It's ok sweetheart, you don't have to say anything.

I've got you.”

*

He'd walked me slowly back to my room, like I was something so fragile and the smallest knock would cause me to shatter. In all honesty it wouldn't be an incorrect statement - It felt like the softer Dean was with me the more delicate I became. My demeanour had the density of a feather and the brittleness of tempered glass; one wrong move and I'd burst into hundreds of little pieces that would have to be glued back together.

The door clicked shut behind us and he guided me to sit on the bed. I crawled into the middle and sat with my legs crossed, uncaring of the fact my micro skirt did little to cover what dignity I had left. The thin white petticoat tickled my thighs as Dean shuffled to sit in front of me, his large hands now resting face up in my lap, beckoning my small fingers to become entwined in his. We sat knee-to-knee, Dean's eyes tracking every movement I made - every breath, every blink, every nervous bite of my lip. He took a deep inhale and a slow exhale, like he was using those seconds to decide on what to say. His rough thumbs caressed my knuckles.

“Sweetheart; it's ok to cry.”

That softness radiating from him pulled a ragged sob from my chest, my bottom lip quivering as I made the bad decision to make eye contact with him. The tears started to stream again.

“D-Daniel- he- I s-saw him- he was hit b-by a f-fucking e-eighteen wheeler, D-Dean. H-he was on his motorbike and h-e was thrown a-bout ninety feet b-before h-he hit the g-ground. I went t-to get a FUCKING s-snack and t-the moment I-I came back o-outside he was- he was-”

Before I could carry on he had pulled me into another crushing embrace, my legs slipping over his as he pulled me to sit in his lap. Rough denim rubbed on my inner thighs as his arms tightened around me, my arms moving on their own to loop around his neck.

“We don't have to talk about it anymore if you don't want to.”

I sniffled.

“I just want to f-forget about him. I-I healed f-from this already. I don't w-want to h-have to do that a-again, Dean. I can’t. That person- th-that vamp- he wasn’t him. Please- I just- I just want to forget.”

I pulled back to look at him. I saw this way his eyes darted to my lips and I knew he tried to fight it, I knew he’d scold himself internally for thinking such thoughts in a moment like this. His evergreen gaze flitted across my face before my own eyes landed on his mouth. I saw the way his lips were parted. I saw how his pupils dilated and how his fingers tightened on the small amount of fabric at my hips. How he swallowed, almost nervously, when I moved my own fingers to tug on his hair - to glide over his scalp. I couldn't help but allow myself to sit heavier in his lap.

“(Y/n), sweetheart. We shouldn’t- I shouldn't - I don't want to take advantage of you. Not like this,” his voice was an unusual mixture of pained self-restraint and compassionate sympathy.

“Dean,” my own voice came out sterner than I intended and I felt him flinch beneath my fingertips. “I want to forget. Make me forget.”

It was like a spark had hit a lake of gasoline; one small thing had ignited us, and my face was still wet with tears when Dean threw me down onto the mattress, my head at the foot of the bed. Thick, slightly trembling fingers glided up my thighs and tugged down my underwear, throwing it into the depths of my room. Rough palms suddenly gripped the back of my thighs and pushed up, my knees almost touching my ears whilst he shuffled slightly, like he was getting comfortable. Right when I opened my mouth to ask him what he was doing, I felt it: A lick. A warm wetness that wasn’t my own. Precision and practice had made this appendage a dear friend of the night, which I realised when I felt my brows scrunch together shortly followed by a breathy moan.

“Fuck-”

His tongue went around and around and around, occasionally grazing over my clit but generally taking great care to avoid it; to pump up the agonising sensitivity and make me squirm. I felt his lips move against me, his words fanning hot breaths over my most intimate area as his voice rumbled in his chest.

“Fuck, (Y/n) you're delicious.”

Dipping back down and tongue back at work, he continued his actions, starting slowly - oh so slowly - before speeding up, and up and up until he stopped. He stopped making little circles around my bundle of nerves, and before I could even whine about it he'd pressed the entirety of his tongue against my opening. I didn't think much of the hand releasing my thigh and dropping it on his shoulder until the pad of his thumb pressed on my buzzer, sending a singular shockwave through me whilst he continued to taste me. His thumb swirled again and again whilst his tongue carefully dipped in and out, seeming to know exactly where to press, when to do it and the amount of pressure needed. It had only been a few minutes but I already felt like a melting mess, my body starting to writhe as the pleasure started to build in the depths of my stomach. I felt like I was losing control of my thighs as Dean's fingers dug into the soft flesh of the one he was holding up, the side of his head leaning into the other one, stubble scratching at the soft skin on the inside of my thigh as his jaw flexed with every movement of his tongue. If he wasn't holding onto me like he was, I felt like I could crush him. Another moan passed through my lips when he sped up a little more, my fingers racing to tangle with his hair, pulling a satisfied noise from him.

“Dean- please- if you keep going like this I'm g’nna come-”

He ceased his actions and pushed up, leaning forwards so he was towering above me with my arousal practically dripping from his lips. He wiped it away with the back of his hand and there was an almost primal glint in his eye.

“Do you wanna come?”

The sound of his voice could have snapped that coil inside me there and then. Instead I groaned quietly, watching the way he slowly wrapped his fingers around my calf that rested on his shoulder, pressing a soft kiss to my inner thigh just above my knee. His dark eyes never left mine.

“I wanna come s’bad, but…” I paused and felt my face heat up.

“But…?”

“But I want to feel you inside me when I do.”

His eyes looked like they were about to roll into the back of his head before he caught himself and stared back down at me, chewing on his bottom lip slightly.

“Fuck sweetheart, those are dangerous words.”

“You're a dangerous man…”

There were a few moments of silence, racing heartbeats almost audible from the other side of the room. I hooked my other leg over his shoulder and linked my ankles behind his back, pulling him further down towards me.

“Dean- please. I need you. I need you to fuck me.”

I'd barely finished my sentence when his mouth pressed to mine, hot and panting. I could taste the bite of the whiskey he'd drunk at the club, the richness of it still on his tongue after all these hours - he must've had more when we got back to the bunker. I stretched my hands down and fumbled with the buckle on his belt, fingers frantically trying to undo everything just so I could feel him - touch him. Anything to focus on him and him alone.

“Do you still want to forget, darlin’?”

I nodded.

“And you’re sure you’re ok with this? I don’t want you to reg-“

“I won’t, I promise. I just need you to make my mind go blank; I need the… pain to go away.”

He pulled his T-shirt off in one swift movement before lowering himself to mere centimetres above me, our lips practically touching.

“Then use me however you need to.”

His words were electric. I didn’t give him a chance to pull away, my hands cupping the sides of his face and dragging his mouth down to mine in a frenzied kiss. I was starting to become familiar with how he kissed me - with how he moved his mouth; how he tasted. I was starting to get used to him. You could almost say that I was starting to crave him. With his intoxicating scent and how he tasted when we practically devoured each other. He was becoming my lifeline, somehow, and that thought alone made my heart race.

I thrust my hands down between us to finish what I started before with unbuckling his belt and jeans, eventually dipping a hand into his underwear and feeling him hot, hard, and heavy in my palm. He made a small noise in the back of his throat, unwilling to break away from my lips. I only pushed his clothing as far as I needed to before pulling him out, wiping my thumb over his tip to gather as much precum as I could before smearing it up and down his length in gentle strokes. I started to play him at his own game by starting tantalisingly slow, speeding up over time before he was grasping at my wrist and halting my actions.

“Please-” he almost begged, pulling away from me slightly, “please don’t make me come yet.”

“Then fuck me and we can come together.”

He didn’t waste another second as he lined himself up to my entrance and pushed in, getting lost in my comforting warmth as he groaned into the crook of my neck. I gasped at the stretch, a high-note moan slipping out as he barely waited two seconds before rolling his hips back and forth. Aside from heavy breathing and uncontrolled moans, the only other thing to be heard was the wetness between our bodies and the unmistakable sound of skin-on-skin.

“I wasn’t going to say anything because the timing was never right, but holy fuck (Y/n), your outfit is killing me,” he somehow managed to form a sentence between the panting, the almost crude compliment bringing a blissed out smile to my lips, my mind incapable of forming a coherrant reply.

My ankles unlocked from around his back as his thrusting became more erratic and my legs dropped from his shoulders. Dean took this as a cue to change positions as he grasped my ass and lifted it off the mattress, pulling my body on and off his cock over and over and over again, like I was his own personal toy to use. And the whore that lived deep in my soul loved every second of it. My eyes focused on Deans face, noting how his jaw clenched as his eyes constantly moved up and down my body - taking in every curve of soft skin and ruffle of my outfit. The occasional stutter of his hips was the tell that he was nearing his end, so I traced my hands up my body and pulled the front of my top down, letting my tits bounce free. I pinched and twisted my nipples between my fingers, biting my bottom lip as I felt my sex flutter at the extra stimulation. If Dean wasn’t salivating before, he certainly was now. Keeping one hand on my breast I moved the other one down. Down over the softness of my stomach and to the soaking wetness between my legs, my fingers pressing soft circles around my clit and making me clench even harder around Dean. I swirled and swirled whilst still playing with my nipples, bringing that ever-nearing storm closer to home. I know Dean could feel it too, because his grip on my ass was slipping and he didn’t seem to care; gripping me so tight I was certain I’d see bruises in the afternoon. Letting go of my tit I brought my other hand between us, feeling where Dean and I joined together; feeling how intimate it felt. I could feeling myself tipping over the edge as the noises tumbling from my lips kept coming, urging Dean to somehow fuck me harder and deeper than he already was.

“Sh-shit sweetheart, if you keep making noises like that I won’t be able to go on any longer.”

“Fuck - Dean please- please-”

It was when his eyes met mine, those mossy-green irises clouded with lust and desire, that the storm came crashing in and my euphoria struck me like white hot lightning. My own orgasm pulled Dean into his own one as a string of unintelligible curses fell from his lips before his thrusting ceased and he set me down gently on the bed. No words spoken, no movements made; just his eyes piercing mine as the sound of heavy breaths filled the room. I wasn’t sure how long we sat there for, not making a single move whilst regaining our composure. That was, until I reached out, unthinking, and traced my thumb over Deans bottom lip. My palm rested softly on his cheek and he allowed his eyes to flutter closed for a few short moments before opening them again. When I finally spoke, my voice was barely above a whisper.

“Dean I…I’m sorry.”

He looked puzzled.

“What for? I mean if anything, it should be me apologising.”

I shook my head, a few aches starting to settle over my body already.

“I feel like I’ve used you.”

He chuckled slightly, planting his hands either side of my head and leaning in slightly.

“I told you to.”

“No, like, today was rough, emotionally. It was my baggage and I feel like you’re the one I’ve forced to carry it.”

It was his turn to shake his head.

“Don’t be stupid. You think I’m here, helping you to forget two different versions of the same person against my will? Sweetheart, I want to be here, making you feel better anyway I can,” he smiled a boyish smile, “hell, I’d’ve made you hot chocolate with cream and frickin marshmallows if that would’ve helped. Or watched some dumb ass chick-flick. Maybe even both.”

I couldn’t stop the schoolgirl grin from blooming as I fought every urge to pull him down to me and kiss him. Kiss him like I fucking meant it.

“Could we still do that?”

He chuckled, the sound causing the butterflies in my chest to flutter.

“You bet you’re perfect ass we can,” he punctuated with a light slap to my rear. “What do you wanna watch?”

I pondered for a moment, wondering what DVDs the boys would have laying around in the bunker. In all honesty though, I had one box set to my name that Bobby bought me many moons ago.

“Is Lord of the Rings good with you?”

He looked up for a moment and I’m convinced I saw him mouth ‘thank you’ to the ceiling. But that would be absurd, right?

“Darlin’ it’s perfect. But first let’s get you cleaned up.”

——————————————————————

Up Next: Chapter 13

——————————————————————

@suckitands33 @jackles010378 @aliceeinwonderland420 @tina-theslytherin @deans-queen @hobby27 @sobearcowboy @girls-alias @selfdestructionandrhum @ericasabe @lacilou @littlemadamred @anneanirac @deans-baby-momma @swimregulas @ashdoctor @littlemarvelstan8 @atcamillanorrman @deangirl96 @zannemes @kr804573 @foxyjwls007 @divadinag @cookiemonstermusic258 @mysterialee @ababy-girl @joonseuph0ria @mxltifxnd0m @deans-spinster-witch @st4bl3-ch40s @feyresqueen @roseblue373 @clusterfuck-meup @urinternetmom @rachiem4-blog @ceeshellecee @mojos-hidden-castle @snowayumi @evzyi @mymuseisbipolar @magssteenkamp @koharuheartfilia @spookyysinsanity @safiyas-world @uncle-eggy @happyt0exist @supernaturalstilinski @h0n3y-l3m0n05 @mrsjenniferwinchester

[miserable-sarah]

MASTERLIST

Supernatural:

Sam Winchester:

Caught (NEW) ~ Y/n needs to relax, Dean leaves and Sam takes the opportunity to help her. ~ 18+, NSFW, SMUT.

The Date ~ Y/n is getting ready for a big date with Sam, Sam surprises her at the date. ~ No warnings, very sweet story.

The Red Dust ~ Sam and Y/n go on a hunt together, it goes sideways and they get hit with a spell. Y/n needs release and doesn't know how to get it. ~ 18+, NSFW, MDNI, choking, smut.

What? ~ Rough sex with sam, a couple months later you find out you're pregnant and you tell him after a hunt. ~ 18+. NSFW, MDNI, pregnancy

Listen ~ You go on a bad hunt, a hunt you weren't supposed to go on. ~ 18+, Daddy Kink, NSFW

Bad Boy ~ Sam is possessed by a demon. A Vey hot Sam. ~18+, NSFW

Shy Sam ~ Sam likes you, Dean teases him about it. ~ No warnings.

Something New ~ Y/n is casually drinking at a bar, Souless sam approaches. ~ 18+, Souless Sam, mentions of killing/murder, NSFW

I'm Here ~ You get taken by Crowely, Sam finds you and saves you. ~ 18+, NSFW, Kidnapping, mentions of smut

Sammy ~ Sammys got a big crush on you. ~No warnings, just cute.

Hurt ~ You and Sam get hurt during a hunt, you get some days off together. ~ voilence, fluff.

Sam's Got A Crush ~ How Sam would act when he's got a crush. ~ Blurb, No warnings.

I Will Always Love You ~ Y/n is depressed. ~ Sad, language.

Party ~ You and Sam go to a party and play spin the bottle. ~ Teenage Sam and Reader (18), Drinking.

Are You Alright ~ You asked Sam to be more rough in bed. He delivers. ~ 18+, NSFW.

Dating Sam ~ Dating Sam ~ Blurb, No warnings.

Just Thinking ~ Y/n can't help but notice how good Sam looks. Y/n has a lot of dirty thoughts. ~ 18+, NSFW, mentions of sex.

For the First Time ~ Sam and Y/n meet through Donna. ~ No warnings.

Thank you ~ Sam hates the way Dean treats you, he takes you from Dean. ~ 18+, NSFW, Abuse.

I Have To Tell You ~ Y/n gets hurt on the hunt, Sam decides he needs to tell her how he truly feels. ~ Reader getting hurt.

Feel Loved ~ Y/n has bad luck with relationships, she's really lonely and wants to feel loved. ~ 18+, NSFW, drinking, bossy Sam, bossy y/n.

Sam? PT. 1 ~ Sam is a demon. ~ 18+, NSFW, Demon rough Sam <3.

Sam? PT. 2 (Final) ~ Demon Sam ~ 18+, NSFW, tied up.

Dean Winchester:

I Care (NEW) ~ Dean and Y/n break up, after a few months Dean saves her from a vamp nest. They make up. ~ 18+, NSFW

I'm Back! ~Y/n leaves randomly one day, Y/n is gone for 6 years. She comes back. Dean hasn't gotten over her leaving. ~ fighting, no other warnings.

I Dare You ~ Dean protects you. ~ No warnings.

Dean's Got A Crush ~ Dean's got a crush on you ~ Blurb, No warnings.

I've Missed You ~ You haven't seen Dean for 6 years, he left you. He didn't want you to get hurt. You run into him during a hunt. ~ 18+, smut

Dating Dean ~Dating dean ~ Blurb, No warnings.

Life Is Hard ~ Reader is depressed. ~ Sad

Time For Bed ~ quick little fluff. ~ No warnings.

Can I See Your Tattoo? ~ Y/n finally gets the nerve to make a move on Dean ~ 18+. NSFW

Just Go Away ~ Dean gets mad at Y/n after a hunt. ~ 18+, NSFW

Fucking Car ~ Y/n is mad because Dean spends all his time working on his car. ~ 18+

Finally ~Y/n and Dean have a crush on each other, the never tell each other. One day Y/n walks into the bathroom while Dean is in there, he takes control and kisses her. ~ 18+, smut, Loving Dean (warning for the heart. )

Lucky ~ Y/n gets kidnapped by Crowley, he tortures her trying to get info, Dean and Sam save her. Dean eventually tells her that he wants a life with her. ~ Voilence, torture, blood.

Please. ~ You wanted to dominate over Dean for once and he let you. ~ 18+, NSFW, sub Dean.

Sam, Dean, Prefrences:

NYE Parties ~ Sam and Dean's NYE ~ No warnings.

How He Would React ~ How he gets when you flirt with someone else. ~ 18+, NSFW

Marvel:

Bucky Barnes:

Mine (NEW) ~ Bucky is your boss, you always had a little crush on him. He has one on you too and he shows you. ~ 18+ only, NSFW, Smut, sir kink, Dom(Bucky).

I hate you ~ You and Bucky get stuck on a mission together 18+ ~ Smut mentioned, voilence, language.

You forgot me ~ Bucky gets controlled again, he forgets you. ~ Fighting, language.

Let's go on a date ~ You and Bucky meet in 1940, he takes you out on a date. You end up meeting again after he's taken. ~ Language.

Take Me Home ~ A guy hits on you, Bucky gets jealous. You find it hot and want him to take you home. ~ Smut, NSFW, choking, praising kink.

Date ~ Bucky takes you out on a date after being told by your cousin Clint. You and Bucky have a wonderful time. ~ NO warnings.

Never ~ Steve leaves you and Bucky helps you get through it. ~ Sad, death

Chris Evans/ Steve Rogers/ Lloyd Hansen:

Sunshine ~ Lloyd takes you. ~ NSFW, 18+, Blade kink, Daddy Kink, ect.

I Don't Really Give A Shit What You Want ~ Chris pisses you off so you give him the silent treatment. He gets back at you. ~ 18+, NSFW, rough.

Sit ~ Chris comes back from a trip very frustrated. ~ NSFW, 18+, ect.

Let's Stay ~ Steve wants to stay home. ~ No warnings.

Impressive (NEW) ~ Steve always has to be in control ~ 18+, NSFW

Thor:

I Need You ~ Thor comes back, he's sad, mad, and needy. ~ Smut, 18+.

I've Missed You. (NEW) ~ Thor comes back from Asgard, he shows you how much he's missed you. ~ 18+, NSFW, sweet but rough Thor.

[petrichor-idyllic]

Hii Petri, I want to request for headcanons please, it's maze runner boys x fem!reader and she was one of the first to go up in the box, she's been in the glade for enough time to pass for the transition of 'cute little girl who's happend to be there with a lot of boys' to 'really hot girl in the middle of tons os guys', and I want to see the moment that clicked for each one of them that "oh, she's a girl". I think it would be fun cause they're a bunch of virgin dudes stuck in a place with only one girl that they know since "forever" and then suddenly she's not that little kid anymore and it clicks that they'd could be the one to date her.

I am completely doing my requests out of order, but I really like this idea and headcanons are so much easier lol.

Also no Newt here, the boy likes men.

DEVELOPMENT

MASTERLIST | MULTI-CHARACTER MASTERLIST

SUMMARY: See above. Movie based fic.

WARNINGS: Inappropriate language, awkward teenage boys, you're the boss, everyone is useless, mild suggestive themes, the Thomas one is really bad 'cause I had no way of actually writing that based on this prompt.

You were the first person in the Glade, a young girl with no memories or idea what you were doing. Yet, somehow, you managed to survive for a whole month on your own. Then, one after another, the boys started joining you. And you went from soft girl to a leader they could rely on - though, it takes them a bit to notice this.

THOMAS

Being one of the later arrivals to the Glade, Thomas doesn't have the same reaction the others do.

You're just a badass from day one to him.

He thinks you're cool and calculated and you seem to know what you're doing.

He respects you from day one.

He doesn't get to have the whole realising you're cool moment that everyone else does.

He just thinks you're sick.

And he's like, stressed as shit, so he doesn't really have the time to think otherwise.

MINHO

Now, this is where it gets interesting.

Minho was one of the first boys to follow you into the Maze, just after Alby and Newt.

So he's witnessed your whole transformation.

From the early days of exploring the Maze together, to you making him Keeper, to the drunken nights where he'd had a rough day and you had to drag him to bed.

You've been together through thick and thin.

And some of Minho's confidence has definitely rubbed off on you.

The moment where Minho realised you were in face a girl, and not the one he first met was actually quite simple.

You'd had a long night, and with one of your Runners out of commission, you realised you hadn't told Minho to cover another route that day as you'd made arrangements for a new Runner to do a more simpler route- which meant switching up everyone's routines.

Fresh out of bed, wearing a sports bra and baggy trousers that hung off your hips, you went to the Map Room.

It wasn't uncommon for you to dress like this. The Glade is warm, and you basically mothered all these boys.

You whistled as you entered, gaining their attention.

"Oi, boys, listen up - I'm switching routes around today. With Sam off on sick and Darren being new, he's taking the easiest route. Minho, I need you to deal with covering the outer sections more. And Ben I need you to stick to your path for a change instead of going awol - your maps make no sense."

"Aw, what? But that's boring."

"I ain't shuckin' askin', Ben - do as you're told."

Oh.

Oh God.

Minho doesn't know why this is what made it click.

His eyes fell on your body, your words becoming static as he drunk in your figure.

Had you always been this attractive?

Had you always been this assertive?

Was Minho into dominant women?

Should he be concerned?

After this point onwards, Minho started looking at you differently.

In fact, you became the only thing he couldn't take his eyes off.

Minho would go from your confident and reliant friend to slightly awkward, but also occasionally flirty.

Like he can't actually decide what to do with you now.

It'd take a while, but after some near death experiences, he'd become more outwardly flirtatious.

Though, he still wouldn't be able to get over the admiration and awe for you.

GALLY

Gally would be your number one problem child in the Glade.

He always has been.

But, you normally left Alby or Newt to deal with him.

Especially at the start since he's a big dude with a big temper.

Gally always saw you unfit as a leader.

Too timid, quiet, anxious.

You name it, he thought it.

That was until the day him and Minho got in a particularly nasty fight.

You don't know why or what it was, but Gally had gone for the Runner. Alby was busy sorting out the Maps, and in light of Newt's recent injury - it was left up to you.

Jeff came running into your hut, panicking about the fight, leading you to running out after him.

"That's enough!"

You grabbed the boys, yanking Gally away by his collar.

"The shuck do you slintheads think you're doing?"

"He started it!"

"I did not!"

You'd had a hard day.

You didn't need this.

"I don't give two klunks who started it! We ain't got much choice to act like adults 'round here - and you two are actin' like diaper-klunkin' sissy babies! Get a shuckin' grip! I expect better."

Minho apologised quickly.

Gally did not.

"What? Why should I apologise when this shank can't shut his mouth?"

Well, you weren't having that.

"Because I shucking told you to. You're under my care and my order- what I say goes. You may be a Keeper, but that's up to me. Suck it up and do as you're told."

"...sorry.

"Better. Get back to work."

The way that Gally watched you walk away made it obvious to everyone who witnessed the scene that something had changed.

He'd always seen you as weak and a pointless leader, but now?

You'd put him in his place.

Initially, he was embarrassed.

But then he started seeing everything around the Glade, the power you actually held.

He also started to notice how attractive you actually had become.

Safe to say, he started to feel things after you basically called him a bitch.

He'd start showing you more respect after that.

Maybe a bit more than respect.

FRYPAN

Frypan has always liked you.

He's always respected you and been a good friend.

And he used to make sure that you were okay when things got too much.

But as you got older and more confident, you started to not need that comfort as much.

Unlike the others, there wouldn't be a specific moment where he realised.

He'd just be proud as he watched you grow as a person.

And you'd take charge.

It'd be a slow burn of feelings from friendship to genuinely having a crush on you.

You'd make sure his kitchen is always stocked and the Track-hoes do their job and the vegetables are up to scratch.

Though, his feelings came more with the physical transformation side of things.

You hit puberty, and went from being awkward to confident along with it.

Now, Frypan is probably one of the more respectful guys around.

But he can't help but stare when you bend over, or stretch or even just look at him with a smirk.

He's a teenage boy and you're the only girl around.

He's trying his best.

Though he did go from:

"Hey, everything okay? You look stressed."

To:

"H-hey uh, you uh, you need help, or...?"

Man's is down bad.

ALBY

Alby would probably be the person you're closest to.

He's the mouth and the power to your brain

You basically work side by side.

But, he'd always see you as someone he needed to look after and protect.

Then, as you grew up, came into yourself, that would change.

Especially when you started actually being in charge.

For the most part, he really doesn't care.

He noticed the others starting to act differently, but he didn't change much.

Apart from that one time you'd just come out of the shower.

And he just couldn't take his eyes off you.

And he kinda realised you're a woman.

But apart from that.

He's just... there.

Helping you lead.

Sorry for disappearing, this is not my best work but I am currently in full corpse mode.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed :))

[maywinchester]

You Think You Do

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: 911

Warnings: Based around the end of season 9, Sick reader, Dean's self pity, angst, fluff

Author's Note: Holy shit balls so I've never posted a fanfic before! I have written many in my brain for my own self-indulgence but I've never written any out much less posted anything other than sharing other's works. So with that I'll say sorry in advance if it sucks, all feedback is appreciated! I don't own any rights to Supernatural, so lets get started!! :D

It had been weeks since you felt like yourself, & it hadn’t gone unnoticed. Your headaches had become almost constant with short spells of relief in between & you felt like you had a weight inside your chest, making it hard to breathe & pulling your chest to the ground. Your other symptoms included fatigue (& the dark circles that came with it) irritability, general weakness & wheezing, especially when you slept. Things were only getting worse, which meant that the boys constant fussing over you was getting worse too.

Sam was logical; when you first started showing symptoms he suggested fluids & rest, he treated it like a cold, which is what you thought it was. Now that it was apparently more, he was hitting the medical books in the Men of Letters laboratory. 

Dean, however, had treated it like the Spanish Flu from the beginning &, now that it had turned out to be more serious, he was almost insufferable.

One thing had really peaked Dean’s interest though: Why wasn’t anyone else catching this? Dean had been right under you from the moment he noticed a change & before that he was constantly around you as well. The question only heightened his anxiety & so did Sam’s silence when Dean brought it to his attention.

“I don’t know man. Something’s not sittin’ right with me. Y/N never gets sick, ever.” 

His voice was extra gritty, lined with worry. It carried down the hall to you & Dean’s shared room where you laid, trying to fall asleep, & listened as your heart broke for him. You knew it was serious & it was probably too late for anything short of angelic. With Cas still MIA, things were starting to look bleak, but you still didn’t want to let in on just how bad you felt.

“I know” Sam sounded tired “We’ll find something Dean.” 

You heard Dean coming down the hall, dragging his feet as he walked. The guilt crept in, you could tell they were exhausted. You held your breath until you saw him in the doorway & gave him a faint smile, trying your hardest not to seem as weak as you felt. 

“D” your voice was barely a whisper, but he was close enough to hear as he sat beside you on the bed, brushing your hair back. You closed your eyes & hummed, taking in the feel of his rough but gentle hand as he rested it on your cheek & the smell of whiskey as his warm breath fanned over your face. 

“We’re trying to find something sweetheart” He had that look, the one for when hope was dwindling down & he was preparing himself for the worst but trying to put on a face for you. 

“I know.. I heard” You move over to make room for him & he lays down before you even have to ask, wrapping an arm around you & pulling you into his chest. 

“Are you okay?” He scoffs at that & you look up at him. Why are you asking if he’s okay when you so clearly are not? You see the battle in his eyes as he contemplates his answer.

“I wish it was me.” You take a deep breath & a moment to appreciate that he told you the truth, & to realize what that means to Dean Winchester. What you mean to him, & your heart breaks a little more. You wanted to tell him just how bad you felt, to lean on him the way you knew you could, but he was already feeling defeated & the last thing you wanted to do was confirm his fears.

“I know.. but then I’d be wishing it were me.” You give him a knowing look, you know he’d rather take the illness & whatever consequences than sit there & watch you deal with it.

“Let's be honest though, I handle these things better than you” You shoot him a playful smile that he tries to return. 

“You shouldn’t have to handle them at all Y/N. You don’t deserve this.”

“But you think you do.” It wasn't a question & he refused to meet your eyes, staring a hole in the door.

“I think we both deserve for Cas to show his ass & fix this.” Dean’s tone was harsh, probably more than he meant to be. His everyday frustrations were elevated by the Mark, but you’d learned to let it go, you knew he was doing his best.

“Maybe, but he has other people to look after now.” He looks at you then, wondering how you can be so understanding while being so miserable. You read him like a book.

“I know, I’m a saint.” you grin, the biggest you’ve had the energy for in days, & he returns it, genuinely this time. He holds your gaze for a moment before you look away, shy for no reason in particular, other than the green eyes staring back at you.

“You really are” you look back at him then, a questioning brow raised “You deal with my crap constantly, you take care of me & Sam. You’ve stuck by us even when everyone else left. You’ve been tortured for us, you’ve died for us.”

“Well, it was more for you, but yes” you laughed. “I love Sam, but some of those demons really do have a gift” He winced at the memory.

“I’m gonna do whatever it takes to get you better” He looked deep into your eyes, making sure you understood the seriousness of his promise.

“I know.. you always have.”

[questionableratatouille00]

ᴄᴀɴ ʏᴏᴜ ʀᴇᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀ? (ᴛʜᴇ ʀᴀɪɴ)

Pairing: Sambucky (Sam Wilson x Bucky Barnes) 

Summary: How Bucky discovered that there is beauty in scary things.

Bingo Fill: ‘Free Space’ on my ‘Vacation’ card for @sambuckylibrary’s sambucky summer bingo!

Warnings: weather, anxiety, hurricane mention, storms, rain.

He had been in storms before. It rained in Brooklyn back in the forties. Heavy rain for long periods of time often meant having to take care of a sick Steve Rogers. It meant unease and worry, because sometimes even a small cold really seemed to put Steve’s body to the test.

But there was a hint of calm in storms. The constant sound of rain provided gentle background noise. Bucky liked to read by the window for this reason.

During the war, rain meant being wet and being in danger. Not a great mix. But it’s not like he remembered much of the trenches anyway, the most that came to him was torture and fear, and that only came through flashbacks.

HYDRA didn’t care what the weather was, if there was a mission he was going to complete it. He can’t remember much about his opinions on weather from that time. It doesn’t really matter, and he knows that, but he still wishes he had all his memories.

Or maybe he doesn’t. Maybe he doesn’t want to bear that cross.

Nowadays he likes storms. Or rather, he doesn’t dislike them. He’s more neutral on the topic.

So he’s indifferent when the storm outside begins to pick up. It’s not a hurricane, he’s absolutely positive of that. But it is some rough weather. Not something you’d want to be driving in, especially because of the water so close by.

Bucky stood at the window, watching the rain. Sarah kept stressing about flooding as she made sure the boys didn’t have any online homework to do.

Sam chased her around the house, trying his best to reassure her that flooding wasn’t an issue. She didn’t seem to want to listen.

“It could be a hurricane.” She huffed, her brows furrowed. “Boys, are your bedroom windows closed?” She kept rushing around gathering bottles of water. The boys weren’t even in the living room.

“Sarah, it is not a hurricane. It’s just some rain.” Sam followed behind her as she passed him water bottles. “You’re stressing yourself out.”

“It could flood. I do not have the time to deal with water damage, Sam.” She stressed. “Boys!” She called again.

“And you won’t! It’s a small storm. It’ll be cleared up by tomorrow.” Sam said. Bucky checked his watch. It was 7:45 PM. They’d had dinner earlier, Bucky and Sam and Sam’s family.

Bucky felt bad for Sarah. She obviously had some kind of weather anxiety, something that Bucky understood. Rebecca had had it, back in the forties. Back in his childhood home.

Becca, when she was real little, maybe 4-7 years old, was absolutely terrified of thunderstorms. She hated the loud noises.

Whenever she’d be woken up by a bad dream brought up from the storm, she’d race into his room. He comfort her, hold her close to his chest until she’d stopped crying, and then he’d send her back to bed.

Those hugs worked for Becca. And they worked for Steve, too. Back in the forties, Steve would get anxious like that sometimes. Bucky couldn’t ever really tell if there was a common factor between those situations, but Steve would just cling on to Bucky. And Bucky would hold him close to his chest until Steve was feeling better.

Part of him wanted to offer that to Sarah, but how the hell do you say ‘hey, do you want me, a 106 year old ex-assassin, to hug you, a young and attractive woman, really tightly’?

The answer is: you don’t. Not really. But desperate times call for desperate measures.

Mustering all of his courage, he walked up behind her and wrapped her in his arms tightly, though he left space for her to get away.

She gasped and clutched at his arm for a moment before she relaxed in his arms.

“James Buchanan Barnes, what the hell are you doing?” She said after checking whether or not the boys were in the room.

And that reminded him of something. He remembered when he was a preteen boy, when his mother would say his full name when he was being ornery. She’d say Becca’s name like that, too. Rebecca Phoebe Barnes.

“It..helps.” He said vaguely, his brows furrowing in concern. “Right?”

She stood there, considering it for a moment, before nodding. “It does.” She admitted.

Bucky let go after a moment.

“Thank..you?” She seemed confused, but grateful. Bucky just smiled gently. “Worked for Steve and my sister, back in the ‘40s.”

Sam just stood there, and Bucky couldn’t tell if he was amused or concerned. Maybe a bit of both.

Once he let go, he walked back towards his boyfriend—saying that word felt odd—silently asking where he could be useful. 

Sam gestured with his head towards the small kitchen drawer where they Bucky knew they kept flashlights.

He went and grabbed them, all four. One hot pink, one bright blue, one silver, and one black. 

He held two in each hand as he glanced back up at the siblings.

“I think there’s some lantern-camping-lights—whatever they’re called—up in the attic. Can you two go grab them?” Sarah asked. 

Sam, humoring his sister, nods. “C’mon.” He pats Bucky’s back, leading him up the stairs and to his nephews’ room. 

Bucky follows him, standing in the room with Sam as Sam pulls open the door and pulls down the wooden stairs to the attic.

“I really don’t think that the power will go out, but she’s always had some nasty weather anxiety.” Sam murmured as he went up the wooden stairs. Bucky followed.

A loud boom of thunder made Sam flinch. Bucky was also startled, but not at the same level.

“Can’t say I’m a huge fan of loud noises in the sky, either.” Sam commented, unstacking some labeled plastic tubs.

Bucky nodded in sympathy, knowing what Sam was referring to. Riley.

“Can you check the camping bin?” Sam asked. Bucky nodded again, stepping around the dark attic.

“Sarah?” Sam calls, handing his sister one of the lanterns and three of the flashlights from Bucky’s hands.

In return, she hands him a small bag. Sam takes it, though it’s clear he thinks it’s pointless.

“AJ and Cass and I are gonna be in the storage room. Are you coming with me or camping out in the bathroom?” Sarah asked. Bucky looked at Sam.

“It’s fine. You go in there with the boys. Buck and I will be fine in the bathroom.” Sam decided, and Bucky nodded. Sarah seemed to be okay with this, considering the fact that she walked away. Sam led  Bucky to the downstairs bathroom, which had a tub-shower in it and everything, just like the upstairs bathroom. 

“She’s hella paranoid over storms. The storage room has no windows, so she always stays in there when the weather gets like this. It’s a small room, though. I doubt you wanted to be cramped up in a tiny room with no windows.” 

Bucky grimaces, shaking his head. “Yeah, I’m good on that.” 

They sit across from each other on the bathroom floor. 

“What’s in the bag?” Bucky asks after a moment.

“Water. Lots of water bottles. Some freeze dried snacks. Other snacks.” Sam begins to list as he opens the bag. “Batteries in a ziplock bag in case the flashlights or lanterns die. A walkie-talkie.” 

“She packs like she’s in the army.” Bucky notes, a soft smile on his face.

“Yeah. She’s always been the more planner one. Always thinking everything out instead of just doing it.” Sam murmurs, a grin on his lips. 

Then the light flickers. Bucky looks up. And then it flickers again.

And then it goes out. 

“Shit,” Sam chuckles, amused, as he turns on the lantern. 

Bucky shifts uneasily. 

Sam looks at him, a gentle look on his face. “I promise you, everything’s fine. The house is old, the power goes out when the weather gets rough. It happens.” 

Bucky nods, his knees comfortably against his chest. 

“Hey,” Sam said after a second. “Listen.” 

Bucky listened for whatever Sam was talking about. And all he heard was the rain.

It was a calming sound. Gentle, even as the sky roared around it. Like a flower growing in the crevice of a sharp and jagged rock.

Bucky liked the rain. This time, he was sure of it.

He gently reached for Sam’s hand. Sam took it, and much to Bucky’s surprise, didn’t make any teasing comments. 

They hold hands like that for a while. 

“Sam?” Bucky says after a long time.

“Yeah?” Sam glanced at him. 

“Thanks for being here.” Bucky hummed.

Sam only grinned. 

Graphics by @saradika-graphics

a/n: the first part of this fic was written in 2023. Because it’s technically a wip, I pray that it still fits in the bingo’s rules. However, since it was written in 2023 and finished in 2024, I’m sure there’s a discrepancy in the way I write or characterize the characters. I hope it’s not too noticeable—and if it is, my bad.

[romanarose]

I'm thinking “my lipgloss is all over your lips.” - with Steven 🥺 because I just like thinking about kissing him and having his lips all plump and glossy hehe.

CONGRATS AGAIN ON 1K BABE YOU DESERVE ALL OF THAT AND MORE

Lucky for you, I was feeling v soft about Steven today because today if the anniversary of when I started writing my first Moon Knight series, the one that started it all for me here, Sunshine, Starlight, Sweetheart, Brightside

It's a little rough but it was my first baby

Anyway, this is basically cheating bc its a scene from that series that I thought was just so cute and deserved to been seen without having to have read all 33 chapters of that series XD Origenally it was steven x oc so i changed it to second person, don't hate me for cheating lol! If you see a "Her" or "sam" just ignore, it's meant to be "you" Also, it's chapstick not lip gloss. sorry.

Summary: While fucking Steven, your lips get dry, and that shit drives you crazy

Warnings: PIV smut, uuuuuhhhhhh. is that it? its just sweet and smutty

Dry Lips

Steven Grant x f!reader

(reader had hair that can be gripped)

“You’re doing so good for me baby.” You were riding on top of a sweaty, writhing Steven. “You look so sexy under me, pretty boy.” You ran your hands up and down his perfect body, gliding easily with the layer of sweat.

Steven was drowning in the pleasure of you, soft blankets under him and soft skin on top. “Fuck darling, fuck, please…” He wines, pinching his eyes together.

“Not yet baby, open your eyes, I want to look at you…”

But Steven was unable to do as he was told, too enthralled in pleasure to listen.

“Steven, baby…” You warn as your voice lowers., slowing your movement over him. “Open, you know I like to see your pretty eyes when you’re so deep inside me, fucking me so good, please? Please can I see them, my love?”

“Fuck” Steven’s sparkling, watery eyes look at you as he grips your hips, forcibly moving her along his length.

“Good boy” You coo, playing with his hair as you scanned his face, taking in all his features until you met his eyes. You could never doubt he loved you, not when he looked at you like that. “Shit” She muttered.

Steven frowned. “You alright, sweetheart?”

You flashed a smile at him. “Oh, I’m doing great, Steven.”

“Bloody hell” He writhes beneath you. “Say my name again, love.” 

“Oh Steven, my sweet, sweet Steven…” You pout, watching him come undone as you rock your hips. “It’s almost unbearable how good you look, all a mess for me, your cock so deep inside me…”

Steven threw his head back, keeping his eyes on you. “Fuck darling, if you keep talking like, I’m not going to last much longer.”

“Poor baby… one sec, give me your hand?” 

Steven was confused but did as you asked.

“Don’t drop me.” Holding onto Steven’s hand (and never stopping your movements on him), you leaned over to your nightstand, grabbing chapstick. Steven pulled you back up, and you put a thick layer of Carmex on your lips.

Steven smiles, shaking his head. “You and your chapstick…” His hand went to her clit, making you pick up your movements. 

You giggle, Steven’s favorite sound on this earth. “I can’t concentrate if they're dry!”

“Well” Steven huffs out, focusing hard on not coming. “At least share.”

“Happy to oblige, pretty boy.” You lean over him, kissing him deeply, spreading the chapstick over his dry lips. You'd have to do this more often.  “There, now my chapstick is all over your lips. You ready, pretty baby?” You asked him, damn-well knowing the answer.

“Yes, yes please, love, please? I need to come in you, pleeeease…?” He begs for his release, rutting up against you. “You’re so beautiful darling, I can’t hardly take it sometimes.”

You cup his face, leaning close to those lips you love so much. “Come for me, Sunshine?”

With a loud grunt, Steven grabbed your hair and pulled you to him, kissing you deeply, spreading the chapstick all over as you feel him spilling his warmth inside you. He wrapped you up closely, rolling you over so he on top and continued fucking into you. “I love you, I love you so much sweetheart… I’m yours, you’re mine, yeah? Tell me you’re mine, please love?”

“I’m yours, all yours, my sweet baby… my sexy, pretty baby…” You mumble into his mouth as Steven started slowing down. “Fucking me so good Steven, filling me up with your cum, making me yours… claiming me…”

“Fuuuuck.” He drew it out and thrust in for the last time, collapsing onto you. As he softened, he began to pull out, but you stop him, clutching to his back.

“Stay with me, please? I need you close, Sunshine…” You nuzzle your face into his neck, leaving gentle kisses.

“Of course, darling.” Steven stayed on top of you in a loving embrace, inside you, as close as two people can get.

**************

anyway i hope those who have read sunshine arent disappointed i stole it for this lol lol

(where my chipstick/gloss, whatever peeps. i just keep a jar of vasaline in my classroom lmfao, there so much chaptstick or carmax or whatever all over my house)

@whatthefishh @eyelessfaces @jake-g-lockley @fandxmslxt69 @littlenosoul @campingwiththecharmings @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction

[cas-coding]

If the drive to Stanford is hell, the look in Sam’s eyes when he sees Dean for the first time in years is worse. Dean knows he looks different, his cheekbones much more prominent and an Adam’s apple sitting under his chin. Sam nearly jumps when Dean speaks, stinging Dean to his core. He’d forgotten that this wasn’t what he used to sound like, that he had to pump himself full of testosterone each week, testosterone that he hadn’t managed to get any sooner than twenty-three.

That was long after Sam left.

The ride in the Impala is a quiet one, the tension between the brothers weighing them down. It wasn’t even about their dad or the hunt, it was about Dean. It was about how Dean’s chest is flat, how his voice is deep, how he actually looks like a Dean, how Jess had looked at Sam and said, “Oh, Sam, I didn’t know you had a brother too!”

Eventually, Dean caves, tired of Sam’s eyes on him. “Go ahead. Ask what you want to ask,” he spits, his hands tight on the wheel.

Sam sighs beside Dean, rolling his eyes before looking out the window. “What’s going on?”

“Dad’s missing, I thought I said that,” Dean replies, but that’s not what Sam’s talking about. He’s just gotta be sure before saying it all, making sure Sam actually wants to hear it, actually cares about Dean after all this time.

Snorting, Sam turns to look at Dean again. “Yeah, no shit, Sherlock. Now what’s going on with you? You’ve,” Sam pauses, searching for a word, “Changed since i left, so I have to ask: was it me?”

“No,” Dean admits, his eyes fixed on the road ahead of them. It falls silent again before Dean clears his throat, snapping, “We’re done now?”

He’s not one to talk about his feelings; he never was. He didn’t say anything to their dad other than asking him to call him Dean, and besides a few smacks upside the head for not looking like Mary anymore, their dad was okay about it. It was easier to drag a son around than a daughter, Dean supposed.

They never talked about it, though. Dean would get mistaken for a boy on a hunt or two and as soon as they’d finish ganking the bitch, they’d all pile into Baby and then Sam would get nosy, asking why Dean didn’t say anything about being called John’s son. “Cause,” Dean would say, “It doesn’t matter. We’ll never see them again anyway.” That was the most they ever talked about it, and maybe that’s why rage bubbles up inside Dean when Sam speaks again.

“Dean, we’re family. Tell me what’s going on with you. You know what I mean,” Sam pushes, his tone sharp. His eyes nearly burn a hole into the side of Dean’s head before Dean pulls the Impala off the road, looking over at his brother.

“What is there to say, Sammy?” Dean snaps, looking out his window before biting at his lip. He had opened up this conversation, for starters, so why was he so keen on shutting it down? It wasn’t the end of the world; it wasn’t close to the scariest thing Dean had ever done, not by a long shot, so why did he want to open the car door and run, get as far away as possible?

Sam sighs, a big heave of air, and then he’s tapping his foot, shaking the car. “I just want to know what I missed. If you don’t wanna talk about it, whatever. Fine by me, but I’d listen. Just for the record,” Sam mumbles, and despite his low volume, he’s genuine. He’d listen to as much as Dean has to say, all because he’s a good brother.

Swallowing thickly, Dean closes his eyes, resting his forehead against the cold glass of the driver’s side window. It takes him a minute to sort himself out, put the words in the right order, but then he’s speaking, his voice rough as he explains. “Not much to it, really, nothing you don’t already know. I’ve been Dean as long as I can remember, even back before Mom died. I just got the chance to look more like it a year or so after you left,” he says, vaguely gesturing with his hand, “Snagged some medication, pump myself full of it every Thursday, and then boom. Voice drops, stubble grows in, cheekbones get all handsome. Magic of modern medicine, hey?”

“I guess,” Sam replies, cut and dry, and part of Dean is itching to look over at his brother, gauge his reaction, but he can’t, afraid of what he might see in his brother’s face. Eventually, curiosity wins over, Dean shifting just a bit in his seat to pop one eye open and take a glance, getting an eyeful of nothing. Sam looked like Sam, just like he had ten minutes ago, just like he had ten years ago.

Sam clears his throat, letting out a chuckle. “You can look at me, Dean, I’m not gonna bite,” he laughs, and Dean snaps his head up, making eye contact with his brother. “It’s fine, really,” Sam reinforces, “It’s cool. You seem like, I don’t know,” Sam shrugs, “You.”

“Well, I’m glad,” Dean snorts, “Took a lot to ‘seem like me.’ Time, scars, money,” he laughs, “’Course, none of the money was mine, but David Johnson’s going to get a hell of a hospital bill for the whole,” Dean vaguely gestures to his chest, “This removal.”

Then it’s Sam’s turn to snort, letting out a string of laughter. “Yeah, how many hunts did you have to sit out waiting for that to heal?”

“Well, tore my stitches out twice, but I was back in the game within three days,” Dean says, practically puffing his chest out. He shouldn’t feel some sense of pride over the fact that he’d stitched his chest back together with dental floss, but it did make him sound ten times more badass than Sam ever was, and that makes him smile.

“Dude!” Sam shouts, a smile pulled tight across his face, “The, like, number one rule of the universe is don’t fuck with stitches? What did you do? You fucked with your stitches!”

They’re both overcome with laughter, struggling to pull in air as they laugh so hard tears come to their eyes, and then Dean knows. This is what brotherhood feels like, and it’s the best feeling in the world.

[blacksmokebarbarians]

i see you’re a sammy girl, and i want a sammy fic! could you do best friends to lovers trope w reader? i don’t care how, but that’s one of my favorite tropes!

Oh absolutely!! Nothing like some good ol' fluff.

| word count: 6k

Growing up with the four boys, it was ever so evident that Sammy was the sweetest. It wasn't that he made an extensive effort to stick out from his brothers and Danny, but you knew deep down that he cared just a smidgen more than the other three. Whenever you got hurt rough housing or adventuring in the forest behind your home, the four would come to your rescue. However, Sam would linger for a few moments more, ensuring that his best friend was hale. He'd watch as the twins and Daniel ran off to climb the next largest tree that they could, before turning back to you.

"Come on, slow poke. Up and at em'" He'd tease, holding out a hand to help you up.

When it came to the summertime, trips with the Kiszka's to their grandparent's pool were a frequent journey. Jumping in on a hot day was refreshing as it could be until the boys began to splash like dogs. The boys would take turns canon-balling into the deep-end,--one directly after the other-- in attempts to create waves that would ripple among the surface. You'd giggle and shake your head as you watch, the sight being quite ridiculous as they all sprint back to the concrete to jump in once again. While contently keeping your eyes locked on the twins, you hadn't realized that Sammy had slipped away. It wasn't until you were shoved into the water that you realized he had been gone.

"Hey! Asshole.." You'd grumble once you came to the surface, pushing your sopping hair out of your face. Sam keeled over, his hands resting on his stomach as he cackled, feeding off of your reaction.

"We needed help making waves!" He called out, soft giggles trailing past the sentence. "Boys! Grandma's got snacks." Their grandfather would call, herding the four of you inside. Josh and Jake would rush to their towels, quickly drying off before trampling inside to grab themselves a sandwich. You would giggle alongside Sam, drying off as the two of you made your way to the kitchen.

While the twins sat on the porch, hastily eating their sandwiches, Sammy would lead you out to the pool to dip his toes in the water as he drank his lemonade. "The sun feels nice.." He'd grin.

You nodded gently, taking a chip from the plate. It was always nice to relax after running around for so long. You'd lean back, your palms rested behind you to keep yourself propped up on the pool's edge. "It does.." You agreed with a gentle smile.

As the years progressed, the summers by the pools didn't come to an end. The twin's behavior became a bit more tame, but they were still silly as ever. Sammy had developed a new habit of laying on the warm concrete atop a towel, basking in the sun. Watching as his chest calmly rose and fell with relaxed breaths, you couldn't help but to admire him. It was no doubt that over the years, you had grown to a small liking towards him. While you never directly acknowledged it, you knew deep down that Sammy was the most gorgeous person you had ever seen. And even then, no one could make you laugh like he could.

Memories flooded your head of laying on his carpeted bedroom floor, listening to his favorite Stephen Stills album while the sun poured down through his blinds. While you had fun exploring and running about with him, your favorite moments were always the calmest ones. Times where the two of you would just lay back and listen to music or talk for hours at a time about meaningless subjects that somehow grew to mean the world to you.

As you all reached adulthood, the bonds only grew. The four boys had invited you out to a camping trip, as Josh had found a wonderful new spot to pitch some tents.

Once the sun fell past the horizon, Danny had struck up a bonfire. Jake sat with his guitar in his lawn chair, strumming a soft tune while Danny fed the fire. Josh had begun pitching up the tents, while you and Sam organized the s'mores ingredients. Earlier in the day, Sammy had went out to gather everyone a stick to roast their marshmallows on, bringing back the longest one for you to make sure that you wouldn't burn yourself.

"Alright, Sammy, you're up first." You grinned, gesturing towards the fire.

"No, no, after you." Sam insisted, handing you the stick.

"Hey, knuckleheads, you can both roast at the same time, the fire's big enough! Yeesh.." Danny called, chuckling to himself as he sat back in his lawn chair.

Growing up, it was always a tradition to see who could make the best s'more. It was Sam's favorite summertime activity, as he became rather competitive to make the best treat. Though you'd never ever admit it, you knew that Sam truly did make the best s'mores.

While the other three spoke beside the fire, you grabbed Sam's hand, guiding him away. "Let's go down to the lake!" You smiled, leading the way. "You're not going to axe murder me, are you?" He teased.

Once on the sandy shore, you sat down, laying back against the sand. Sam laid beside you, looking up at the stars quietly. "Look at that view.." He hummed gently, his eyes darting across the sky. You nodded gently, looking up at the various constellations dotted across the sky.

"The stars are gorgeous.." You agreed, folding your hands over your stomach as you studied them. There was silence for a moment, before Sammy softly spoke.

"Almost as gorgeous as you."

His voice was sure and certain, with a tinge of hesitation, almost like he was too nervous to say it. You shook your head with a gentle laugh. "You don't mean that, Sammy.."

"I do." He assured, glancing over to you. He sat up, looking up to the sky once more before back down to you. A few strands of stray hair fell in front of his face. "I think you're more beautiful than any star in the sky.."

Your cheeks grew hot as your eyes met his. What was this? He had never spoken to you like this before, but something deep within your gut told you that he was serious. This wasn't one of his silly jokes, but rather a more vulnerable side of him that he was allowing you to see. You sat up gently, admiring him in the light of the moon.

"Well, I would have to say the same for you." You said gently, studying his features. His soft eyes gleamed back at you sweetly, and your heart couldn't help but sink.

After a moment of silence between the two of you, Sammy finally broke the brisk quiet.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Yeah..?"

"Can I kiss you..?"

You couldn't believe it. After all of these years, all this time, he was finally asking. You never knew how much your heart ached for his touch until those four words left his lips. You nodded gently, and just like that, he leaned forward, pulling you into a gentle kiss. His hands gently took your waist, his thumbs tracing gently over your hips. You pushed his hair out of his face gently, cupping his cheeks with your hands. You could feel his lips peak into a soft smile, before he slowly pulled away.

Your lips buzzed as you look out across the water, smiling softly, as you watched the waves of the lake slowly edge up to the shore. "How long have you felt this way..?"

"Since I met you." He promised.

[izzyspussy]

Hiya Jack! For the OTP ask, Roy/Jamie/Keeley and 22, 56 and 58. If three is too greedy, pick and choose as you see fit. Please and thank you. <3

What reminds each of their partner?

Roy and Jamie will never tell each other but they are both genuinely reminded of each other by actual muppets. The reason they won't tell each other is not because they don't want to be insulting (they do want to be insulting) but because they feel sentimental about it lmfaooo. Jamie will see Sam Eagle or Oscar the Grouch somewhere and get misty eyed alsfjksk. For Roy is pretty much any fucking muppet 'cause he's the one who said it, but most particularly Rowlf and Janis. These two are also reminded of each other by certain shades of blue. Keeley is reminded of her boys by Richmond colors, by the brand Jamie's always wearing, by anything all-black that isn't usually black, and by basically any football stuff. She also has "their song" for each one of them and them as a throuple. (I don't listen to the kind of music she listens to, so I don't have specific songs to tell you.) She also really loves both of their accents and she thinks of them whenever she hears someone speak like them. Roy is reminded of both Keeley and Jamie (and Phoebe) by the color pink. He's reminded of Jamie by his own various Three Lions stuff, now lol. He's reminded of Keeley when he cooks or reads (the latter reminds him of Phoebe too). He's reminded of Keeley any time he takes a moment to fucking chill out and appreciate his surroundings. He's reminded of her (and now Phoebe too lmao) by the music Keeley listens to. He's not really that much of a music guy himself, so whatever music he does know will remind him of one of them tbh, since they're both passionate about what they like. He's reminded of Keeley by his own shitty handwriting lmfao. Listen. He's always thinking about them. Jamie is reminded of Keeley whenever he's doing something or behaving in a way he feels is responsible/kind/mature. He doesn't exactly credit her for him doing that, he knows he's the one who's accountable for his actions both bad and good, but she was the first person (other than his mom) who ever had any expectation of him to be "good" or belief that he could be, and that was a really important thing for him! He also thinks of her any time he's enjoying something he thinks is fancy or, like, sophisticated or "cultured" or whatever (like plays, etc). He also has a "their song" for her (not for Roy, their "song" is football wlkjrlkskf), and they had a sort of battle of the bands once where they blew out the speakers of Jamie's surround sound stereo and also Roy's patience, so the songs the two of them used for that remind him of her too.

What do they do turn the other on/put them in the mood?

Well, Jamie is RoyKeeley's little sexbot puppy, so they can pretty much turn him on just by telling him to be alsfjkkw. In particular though, he gets really weak kneed and easy by being petted/caressed, praised with that certain tone, or made to feel special in some way - nice individualized attention from Roy, being compared favorably to someone (other than Roy), an elaborate date or gesture, etc. These things give him a sort of "time to make love" kind of arousal. He wants more of the intimate/special feeling and he wants to make them feel as good as he does, and some very sweet sex is a great way to do that. For a more "time to fuck" type of arousal, Jamie can always be reliably worked up by a little roughhousing or pets/caresses that are particularly possessive (grabbing his throat or patting his ass or circling his wrists, etc, regardless of if it's rough or gentle). Being sexually teased/denied/having to watch (even just Roy and Keeley kissing if he can't join them for whatever reason) will also get him this type of aroused. And also of course winning a match, but that's not really something either of them do (although Roy will claim credit for it sometimes lol). The two most sure-fire ways for Jamie to turn one of them on are opposites qljisk. He can be an absolute brat and make them want to put him in his place, or he can be incredibly sweet and submissive and make them want to make use of that. When he's preemptively submissive, Roy always wants to test him, see how much he can make Jamie do for him, and he likes to assign him tasks that aren't necessarily explicitly sexual as a sort of tease for both of them. Keeley doesn't really see the appeal of that, her sex is generally much less convoluted than theirs lmfao. When Jamie's sweet she wants to reward him. Jamie also really good at putting very specific inflections into his patterns of speech, so he can turn a completely mundane phrase into something fucking filthy through tone alone and then say it normally later to be an unconscionable tease in public lmao. He can also rev Roy up by making him jealous. This one doesn't work on Keeley, for obvious reasons.

Who’s more likely to hold a grudge after an argument?

I actually don't think any of them really hold grudges, at least not against each other or about real arguments. Like, Roy has a grudge against Carragher, and he held his grudge against Trent for forever, but those are from an apparent mutual dislike and a distant devastating insult respectively. Having an argument or even full on fight with someone you have a personal relationship with is something totally different from those. I also think all three of them have tempers, but they are also all three fully cognizant of those tempers and take deliberate steps to control them or at least mitigate their effects. This is especially true for Jamie and Roy, who are both very scared of hurting people they love. Keeley holds the same type of grudge that Roy does, against strangers or near strangers or acquaintances or whatever that she'll hold onto for foreeeeeever, but she's extremely quick to forgive someone she cares about no matter how dramatic her anger was when her temper snapped with them. All it really takes for any of them is an open discussion of what upset them and a genuine, self-aware apology to get them past things. The only time they'll hold "grudges" with each other is over stuff that doesn't actually matter. Like if one of them eats someone else's special snack, or jokingly insults a musician they like, etc.

OTP Asks

[laylaackles]

Wake Up (Dean Smut)

This one is going to be lots of fluff at first, but it will end with some smut.

Warnings for the fluff: Y/n gets badly injured and put in a coma. Y/n almost dies. Mentions of getting cut and mentions of a scar from said cut

Warnings for smut: Smut, little bit of oral (f) desperate I missed you kind of sex

"Right now, we're not sure if Y/n is going to wake up." The doctor told Sam and Dean.

The boys' hearts broke in half. They couldn't lose you. Especially Dean. They blamed themselves for that vampire hurting you. They should've been with you.

The three of you had been on a case, and when you were out taking care of the vamp nest, one of the vamps got to you. He threw you up against a wall, and you hit your head really hard, causing you to black out.

The vamp didn't turn you, but it did cut you on your left side, causing you to lose a lot of blood. The doctors stopped the bleeding and sewed your stomach up. But it's been 24 hours, and you still haven't woken up. Your brain activity is very low. There's a slight chance you can wake up, but it's unlikely.

"Can we see Y/n?" Dean asked.

"Sure."

Sam and Dean made their way to your hospital room. You looked pretty rough. It hurt the boys to see you like that.

"I don't want her here." Dean said.

"What?" Sam asked.

"We need to bring her home. She deserves to be comfortable." Dean said.

"Dean. I'm not sure we can do that. And it's probably best if she's here being monitored." Sam said.

"Damnit, Sammy, I don't care. I want her home." Dean snapped.

Sam was defeated. There was no way he was going to be able to stop Dean from attempting to bring the love of his life home.

"I'll talk to the doctor." Dean said.

The doctor actually understood Dean's reasoning for wanting to bring her home, and since it was unlikely she was going to live, the doctor agreed and let Dean sign Y/n out of the hospital.

Dean carried you out to the Impala and carefully placed you in the back seat. He drove back home to the bunker as fast as he could.

Sam was silent the whole ride. He kept looking back at you, hoping to see you awake.

Dean wouldn't let Sam know. He  wouldn't let him see. But he was crying as he drove. He was praying to anyone who was listening. He was begging for a miracle. He needed you to wake up.

When you arrived at the bunker, Dean carried you to your room. You often slept in his bed, but you still had your own room, which has a much more comfortable bed. Dean laid you down in the bed. He took your shoes off and placed them on the floor.

Dean walked over to your dresser and found your favorite pajamas. A pair of soft pants and a t shirt you'd stollen from him. Dean carefully changed your clothes. He knew you'd want to be comfortable, and you needed to get out of the hospital clothes.

Dean went to his room and changed into an outfit similar to yours, then he went back to your room and laid next to you. He held your hand and carefully ran the fingers on his free hand through your hair.

"Come on, Y/n. Wake up." Dean begged.

"I can't lose you. I love you."

*time skip*

A week had passed, and Dean was still by your side. He'd checked your wound a few times. It was healing nicely. All you could see was a small scar. He'd made sure to clean it, and he even changed your clothes a couple more times.

Dean was sitting in the chair next to your bed, talking to Cas and Sam. Cas tried to wake you up, but he couldn't. His grace wasn't strong enough. He was able to check you for brain activity, though, and he'd found that it was growing stronger.

The boys were talking and were distracted, so they didn't notice when your eyes fluttered open. But they did notice you clearing your throat.

They all turned and looked at you. You were moving a bit. You were thirsty and stiff from lying in the same position for a week. As your vision cleared, you noticed Dean was now standing over you.

"Y/n?" He asked.

"Dean." You choked out.

"I'll go get some water." Sam said.

"How do you feel?" Dean asked.

"Stiff." You said.

Sam came back with the water and some pain pills just in case you needed them.

You eagerly drank the water. Your throat was so dry you could drink a river.

"Thanks, Sammy." You said, voice now clear.

"What happened?" You asked.

"We'll leave you two alone." Sam said, then him and Cas left the room.

Dean explained that you got hurt and he brought you home.

"How long was I out?"

"A week." He said.

You took a second to take everything in, and then you realized you really needed to pee.

"Can you help me to the bathroom?" You asked.

You weren't sure if you could stand on your own. You figured it would take a bit to get used to doing things again.

"Of course."

Dean helped you stand and walk to the bathroom. Your legs were a little wobbly at first, but you felt fine for the most part. It was nice to be out of bed.

You were standing in front of the mirror when Dean came in to see if you were ready to go back out. You had your shirt lifted up, and you were looking at the scar.

"It's healing nicely." He said, coming up beside you.

You smiled softly at him.

"Wanna take a shower?" He asked.

"Yes, please. I look horrible."

"No, you don't." He said.

Dean got the shower running. He helped you get out of your clothes, then removed his own. He helped you wash your hair and body, then washed himself.

Then, the two of you stood in the shower holding each other. Dean had his arms tightly wrapped around you. He was scared to let you go.

You found comfort in having his skin pressed against yours. Your ear was pressed against his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

"I missed you." He whispered.

You looked up at him, and he looked down at you. You smiled, then leaned up to kiss him. The kiss was supposed to be chaste, just a quick "Thank you" kind of kiss. But when Dean's lips met yours, it was impossible to pull away.

It almost felt wrong. You'd just come out of a coma. You shouldn't be turned on by this kiss. But you were. The kiss became needy and desperate. Dean wanted this, too.

You broke for air and stared into each other's eyes. Dean's eyes were clouded with lust, and you were sure yours looked the same.

"I want you." You whispered.

"I want you more." He said.

The two of you quickly exited the shower and dried off before laying back down in your bed. Except this time, your lips were slotted together in a deep kiss as Dean hovered over you.

"Fuck I missed you so much. Are you sure you're up for this?" Dean spoke.

"Yes. I'm sure. Please, Dean." You begged.

Dean kissed your neck and down to your collarbone. Then he kissed your breasts and stomach. He was kissing down your body. He made sure to give your thighs lots of kisses, and he even kissed the scar from where you got cut.

Dean spread your knees open to accommodate his body. His head was perfectly positioned in between your thighs. He was staring up at you, and you were staring right back.

"Dean, please. I can't handle the foreplay, I just want to feel you inside of me." You begged.

"Just a second, sweetheart. Wanna taste you first." He smirked.

Dean tongue began to quickly lap at your entrance, tasting the arousal that was beginning to leak out of you. He licked and sucked on your clit too.

He was painfully hard, and desperate for release, but Dean never dared to fuck you without tasting you first. It was his favorite thing to do.

You reached down and grabbed Dean's head, pulling it away from you.

"As much as I love that, and as good as it felt, I need you inside of me. It's been too long." You said.

Dean came back up so that your faces were level with each other. He grabbed one of your hands and laced your fingers with his. He placed your tangled hands by your head, then with his free hand, he lined his cock up with your entrance.

He kissed you as he slowly thrusted into you. When he bottomed out, he pulled away from your lips to make sure you were okay.

"I'm okay, Dean, please, just move. I'll tell you to stop if i need you too, I promise."

"Okay." He kissed your forehead.

Dean pulled out until just the tip was inside you. Then, he thrusted back in. He wasn't going to fast or too hard. He was still worried about hurting you.

"Dean, please. Faster. I need to feel you." You begged.

Dean began to thrust a little faster, but he still didn't thrust harder. Which was what you needed.

In order for Dean to hit all the right spots, he needed to go a little harder.

"Dean, I'm okay, I promise. Please just fuck me like you would any other time. I need it." You begged again.

Dean dropped his head to your neck and began to kiss it as he started to thrust harder and faster. He set the pace he would set any other time.

His cock was hitting your g-spot and it felt euphoric. Dean brought his free hand down to your clit and began to rub it in circles. The added stimulation felt amazing. You could feel your orgasm forming.

Your walls began to squeeze around Dean's cock, which was beginning to throb. You were both so desperate for release.

"Cum for me Y/n." Dean said.

With that, the coil snapped and you came around his cock. Your orgasm triggered Dean's causing his cum to spill inside of you.

He slowed down his thrusts to a stop as you guys came down from your highs.

Dean pulled out, then walked to the bathroom for a wash rag. He always made sure to clean you up after sex.

Once you were both clean, he put on his boxers and t shirt, then helped you into clean clothes.

You laid down on your stomach and Dean rubbed your back since he knew you were still stiff.

"I love you Y/n." He said.

"I love you Dean."

*In the library of the bunker*

"Sam, do you hear that?" Cas asked.

"Hear what?"

"Listen. It sounds like Y/n is in pain." Cas said.

Sam listened for a second to see if he could hear. He could hear faint moaning coming from Y/n, but it wasn't pain.

"Guess she's feeling better." Sam joked.

Cas had a confused look on his face but shrugged it off.

LA<3