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doctorbitchcrxft · 6 months

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Hook Man | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, mentions of religious trauma/parental abuse

Word Count: 4869

A/N: Guys. We hit a bit of a milestone earlier in the week. Just wanted to say in celebration that I am so beyond grateful for all of your love and support. I'm so glad you guys are enjoying reading this as much as I enjoy writing it! Giving big big kisses to all of you!!! Taglist is open!!

Edit: Hey.... I suck I forgot to add the taglist when I published. So sorry!!! fixed now!!!!

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You and Dean were sat at an outdoor cafe; coffee cups in hand. He was clacking away at his laptop while you wrote in your journal. You wrote your excerpt on the shapeshifter next to a drawing of Dean’s necklace.

“Is that…?” Dean asked, pointing to your journal.

You nodded.

“I didn’t know you could draw,” he said.

“No offense, lovebug, but you don’t know much of anything about me,” you retorted.

He scoffed. “Will you take the compliment and be quiet?”

“I didn’t hear a compliment,” you giggled. “Well, maybe in ‘Dean Winchester Land’ it was a compliment.”

“Oh, shut up,” he responded playfully.

Sam hung up the payphone he was standing in and came back over to your table.

“Your, uh, half-caf, double vanilla latte is gettin’ cold over here, Francis,” Dean jabbed at his brother.

“Hey, don’t knock it ‘til you try it,” you told him.

“So, anything?” Dean asked Sam.

Sam huffed. “I had ‘em check the FBI’s Missing Persons Data Bank. No John Does fitting Dad’s description. I even ran his plates for traffic violations.”

“Sam, I’m tellin’ ya, I don’t think Dad wants to be found.”

Sam looked disappointed.

“Check this out.” Dean turned his laptop around to you and Sam. “It’s a news item out of Planes Courier. Ankeny, Iowa. It’s only about a hundred miles from here.”

“Thank god, a short trip,” you sighed.

“ ‘The mutilated body was found near the victim’s car, parked on 9 Mile Road,’ “ Sam read from the article.

“Keep reading.” Dean nodded at his laptop.

“ ‘Authorities are unable to provide a realistic description of the killer. The sole eyewitness, whose name has been withheld, is quoted as saying the attacker was invisible.’ “

That last line caught your attention. “Could be something interesting.”

“Or it could be nothing at all,” Sam protested. “One freaked out witness who didn’t see anything? Doesn’t mean it’s the Invisible Man.”

“But what if it is? Dad would check it out,” Dean responded.

***

The one hundred mile drive concluded with the boys dropping you off at a sorority house.

“Remind me why I have to play barbies for the week again?” you asked.

“Because this is Lori Sorensen’s sorority house; the witness from the killing,” Sam replied.

“Great,” you mumbled.

“Have fun making s’mores and singing campfire songs,” Dean remarked.

“Bite me,” you snarked. “You’re going to a frat, though, Steve McQueen, so I wouldn’t be so cocky.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” he grumbled.

“I’ll catch up with you guys later,” you said and shouldered your duffel bag. You bid them goodbye and reluctantly marched up to the door of the sorority house.

A girl with long, dark curls opened the door. “Hi,” she said. “Can I… help you?”

“Yeah, I’m (Y/N),” you explained. “I’m your sorority sister from Ohio State. Do you guys have an extra bed I could sleep in? I just transferred here.”

“Sure,” she grinned. “I’m Taylor, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you.”

She led you inside and introduced you to Lori Sorensen. She was a sweet girl; very naive and a little stuck-up. Taylor seemed a little more like a party girl, but still relatively tame. You decided you could gel with these girls for the time being.

They told you they were headed to Sunday service at Lori’s father’s church and invited you to go with them. You obliged.

In the middle of the introductory rites, you heard the heavy church door slam shut. Your head swiveled to find Sam and Dean frozen and looking guilty. You scoffed amusedly and rolled your eyes, turning your attention forward for the rest of the service.

Taylor invited you and Lori out to a party after the service, but Lori said she couldn’t. Her father had dinner with her every Sunday since her mother passed away. She and Taylor hugged and Taylor bid you goodbye before heading off.

Sam and Dean came over to you and Lori.

“Guys!” you said excitedly. “Sam, Dean, this is Lori.” You introduced her to them. “They’re my friends from Ohio. They transferred with me.”

“I saw you inside,” she told them.

“We don’t wanna bother you. We just heard about what happened and…”

Dean cut his brother off. “We wanted to say how sorry we were.”

You knew where this was going; he was cruising for another hookup.

“I kind of know what you’re going through,” Sam broke back in. “I-I saw someone..get hurt once. It’s something you don’t forget.”

Lori nodded slightly. Just then, her father came up to your group.

“Dad, um, this is Sam, Dean, and (Y/N). They’re new students.”

Dean shook the reverend’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. I must say, that was an inspiring sermon.”

“Thank you very much,” he smiled. “It’s so nice to find young people who are open to the Lord’s message.”

“Yes, sir,” you replied and began leading him away from Sam and Lori. “Actually, we’re looking for a new church group…”

***

Later that day, you and the boys were sitting together in the local library. Sam relayed to you what Lori had told him about the passing of the guy she was with.

“So, you believe her?” Dean asked him.

“I do,” he nodded.

“Yeah, I think she’s hot, too.” Dean smirked at him.

“You think almost everything with a vagina and legs is hot, Dean,” you remarked.

“Not you,” he jabbed back, still smirking.

You clutched a hand to your chest. “I’m hurt, you dick.”

He rolled his eyes at you.

“Can we focus, please?” Sam broke in. “There’s something in her eyes. And listen to this: she heard scratching on the roof. Found the bloody body suspended upside down over the car.”

“Wait, the body suspended? That sounds like the—”

Sam cut you off. “Yeah, I know, the Hook Man legend.”

“That’s one of the most famous urban legends ever,” Dean added. “You don’t think that we’re dealing with the Hook Man.”

“Every urban legend has a source. A place where it all began,” said Sam.

“Yeah, but what about the phantom scratches and the tire punctures and the invisible killer?”

“Well, maybe the Hook Man isn’t a man at all. What if it’s some kind of spirit?”

You had the librarian bring over boxes of arrest records. The three of you poured through pages upon pages for hours.

“Hey, check this out. 1862,” Sam said finally. “A preacher named Jacob Karns was arrested for murder. Looks like he was so angry over the red light district in town that one night he killed 13 prostitutes. Uh, right here, ‘some of the deceased were found in their bed, sheets soaked with blood. Others suspended upside down from the limbs of trees as a warning against sins of the flesh.’ “

“Get this, the murder weapon?” Dean was looking at another page. “Looks like the preacher lost his hand in an accident. Had it replaced with a silver hook.”

You pointed to a page in Sam’s book. “Look where all this happened. Nine Mile Road.”

“Same place where the frat boy was killed,” Sam chimed in.

“Nice job, Dr. Venkamen and Annie Potts. Let’s check it out,” the older brother quipped.

The three of you headed to Nine Mile Road. Dean parked off the road in a clearing in the woods. He popped the trunk and handed Sam a shotgun. “Here you go.”

“If it is a spirit, buckshot won’t do much good,” Sam said.

“Yeah, rock salt. It won’t kill ‘em. But it’ll slow ‘em down.” Dean led the three of you through the clearing.

“That’s pretty good. You and Dad think of this?”

“I told you. You don’t have to be a college graduate to be a genius.”

“Cool it, Winchester. You and your daddy aren’t the first people to think of rock salt bullets.” You loaded your own gun with shells of your own.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”

“They’re a bitch to roll,” you said.

“Oh, one hundred percent,” he remarked.

You suddenly heard rustling in the bushes.

“Over there,” you whispered to Sam. The two of you aimed your guns and cocked it.

The “ghost” came out from behind the trees. A sheriff.

‘Dammit.’

“Put the gun down now!” he yelled. “Now! Put your hands behind your head.”

“Wait, wait, okay!” Dean told him.

You immediately dropped your gun and put your hands up.

“Now get down on your knees. Come on, do it! On your knees!”

You three obeyed.

“Now get down on your bellies,” he commanded. “Come on, do it!”

“Are you just on a power trip or something? ‘Cause— ah!” you were cut off by a sharp kick to the shin from Sam.

The sheriff brought the three of you into the station. It was early the next morning by the time you were able to leave.

“Saved your asses!” Dean jeered. “Talked the sheriff down to a fine. I am Matlock.”

“How was it that you were left in charge of talking him down?” You raised a brow at him. “And how in the fuck did you do it?”

“Sweetheart, this may surprise you, but I’m good at my job. And I told him Sam was a dumbass pledge, you were his girlfriend we’d dragged along, and we were hazing you.”

You and Sam both recoiled at the idea of dating each other.

“First of all, ew,” you started, “No offense, Sam.”

“None taken.”

“But what about the shotguns?”

“I said that you were hunting ghosts and the spirits were repelled by rock salt. You know, typical Hell Week prank.”

“And he believed you?” you asked incredulously.

“Well, Sam looks like a dumbass pledge.”

“Can’t argue with that.” You stuck your tongue out at Sam.

Moments later, several officers ran out of the building to their cruisers. Barely needing to share a look with the boys, you hurried into the car and sped away to follow them.

You could see Lori wrapped in a disposable blanket in front of the sorority house you were staying in. You weren’t exactly sure what was going on, but you had no doubt that it was another murder. The stretcher carrying a body bag rolling out of the front door affirmed that thought seconds later.

Dean parked the Impala around the back of the house.

“Why would the Hook Man come here?” Sam asked as the three of you crept around the building. “This is a long way from Nine Mile Road.”

“Maybe he’s not haunting the scene of his crime. Maybe it’s about something else,” Dean suggested.

You pulled his arm back seconds later to avoid being seen by your “sorority sisters.” You used the fact that you had now pretty much pulled yourself in front of him to allow you to lead the way up to the second floor.

While Dean made a stupid joke about a naked pillow fight, Sam was busy giving you a boost before climbing up himself. You looked back down at the ground to see Dean struggling to find his footing.

“Need help?” you smirked.

“No,” he grumbled.

“I think you do.”

“No, I don’t.”

You waited patiently, leaning your head in your hands on the railing of the balcony and smiling down at him. He struggled for a few more moments before he conceded. All he did was open and close his hand he was extending upwards, similar to a toddler asking to be picked up.

“What’s the magic word?” you sing-songed.

“Come on!” he hissed. “Please?”

“There we go,” you smiled. You dug your heels into the ground and pulled him up.

You then realized the window you were entering was the one in Lori and Taylor’s closet. You hoped to god in that moment that Taylor wasn’t the one dead.

Your fears were realized, however, when you entered Lori and Taylor’s room to find the words “Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?” crudely etched into the wall above Taylor’s blood soaked bed. You didn’t exactly get attached to people on hunts, but seeing good people die was never easy for you. It didn’t get easier. Your dad would call you soft, but you always liked to look at your compassion as a strength.

“ ‘Aren’t you glad you didn’t turn on the light?’ That’s right out of the legend,” Sam whispered.

“Yeah, that’s classic Hook Man all right.” Dean tapped his nose as he spoke. “It’s definitely a spirit.”

“Yeah, I’ve never smelled ozone this strong before,” Sam muttered.

“(Y/N), you okay?” Dean asked you.

You nodded, biting your lip. “Yeah. Fine. It’s just… look at this symbol.” You were referencing the one beneath the writing. “Does that look familiar to you?”

Your head jerked toward the sound of footsteps approaching. You quickly shooed Sam and Dean back into the closet and out of the house. Thankfully, you made it back to the car without being seen. You pulled the copy you’d made at the library of one of the pages on Jacob Karns out of the backseat. That was where you had seen the cross symbol; on Karns’s hook.

You showed it to the boys. “Told ya.”

“Alright, let’s find the dude’s grave, salt and burn the bones, and put him down,” Dean said.

Sam took the page from your hand. “ ‘After execution, Jacob Karns was laid to rest in an Old North Cemetery. In an unmarked grave.’ “ He flicked the page with his finger, looking aggravated; as were you and Dean.

“Super,” the older brother muttered.

“Ok. So we know it’s Jacob Karns. But we still don’t know where he’ll manifest next. Or why,” Sam pointed out.

“I could just be spitballing here, but Lori definitely has something to do with it,” you said, looking up at the sorority house.

***

You managed to get into a party at the fraternity house Sam and Dean were staying in later that night. Dean had been busy mingling with thin college girls dressed in mini skirts while Sam stuck to the outside wall. You bounced around from talking to Sam and hustling some of the drunk frat guys in multiple rounds of pool.

The three of you reunited around the pool table you’d been dominating that night.

“Man, you’ve been holding out on me,” Dean told Sam. “This college thing is awesome!” He smiled and winked at a passing girl.

Sam looked intensely uncomfortable. “This wasn’t really my experience.”

“Let me guess. Libraries, studying, straight A’s?”

Sam nodded. You chortled.

“What a geek. Alright, you do your homework?”

“Yeah. It was bugging me, right? So how is the Hook Man tied up with Lori? So I think I came up with something.” Sam unfolded a piece of paper.

“1932. Clergyman arrested for murder. 1967. Seminarian held in hippie rampage,” Dean read.

Your eyebrows knitted together.

“There’s a pattern here,” Sam explained. “In both cases, the suspect was a man of religion who openly preached against immorality. And then found himself wanted for killings he claimed were the work of an invisible force. Killings carried out— get this— with a sharp instrument.”

“What’s the connection to Lori?” Dean asked.

“Her dad. Man of religion who openly preaches against immorality,” you pointed out. “Maybe this time, though, instead of saving the whole town, he’s just trying to save his kid.”

“Reverend Sorensen,” Dean tsked. “You think he’s summoning the spirit?”

“Maybe it’s like when a poltergeist can haunt a person instead of a place,” you suggested.

“Yeah, the spirit latches onto the reverend’s repressed emotions, feeds off them, yeah, okay.”

“Without the reverend ever even knowing it,” Sam chimed in.

“Either way, you should keep an eye on Lori tonight,” Dean told his brother.

“What about you?”

Dean looked over to the opposite side of the pool table where the blonde you’d been playing with smiled at him. He reluctantly said, “(Y/N) and I are gonna go see if we can find that unmarked grave.”

“We are? I wanted to play more eight-ball,” you told him.

He looked back over at the blonde, back at you, and shook his head in disappointment. “C’mon. I’m not happy about it either.”

***

“Are you sure you don’t wanna go back?” you asked Dean as the two of you trudged through the Old North Cemetery. You were holding shovels and flashlights searching for the grave of Jacob Karns.

He shot you a look.

“I know, I know, I’m kidding,” you laughed. “But seriously. Now that we’re… acquaintances, we should go out to a bar sometime. Preferably one with a pool table.”

“That’d be cool, actually,” he said, smirking at you. “You’re pretty good.”

“What, at pool?”

He nodded. “I could probably still kick your ass, though.”

“You’re on, pretty boy.”

He stopped and turned to you. “Don’t objectify me.”

“What?” you asked, stopping next to him. “You know you’re gorgeous. You frequently use it to your advantage.” You marched on.

You smiled when you heard him mutter, “You are so confusing, woman.”

You walked for a few more minutes before your flashlight landed on a grave marked with that cross symbol from Taylor’s room. “Jackpot.”

You and Dean set to work exhuming Jacob’s corpse. Your back and shoulders ached more and more the deeper you dug. “How fucking far down is six feet?” you remarked breathlessly.

“I don’t know, but next time, I get to watch the cute girl’s house,” he replied.

“Aw, you don’t wanna spend quality time with this cute girl?” you asked playfully.

He eyed you strangely with a lopsided smile.

“What?” you asked.

“Nothing. You’re just funny,�� he told you.

You smiled back and got back to digging. Your shovel finally hit the wooden box lying below. You broke through it to reveal his corpse. Or at least, what remained of it.

“Hello, preacher,” Dean said. He threw his shovel aside and helped you out of the hole you had dug. After he had climbed out, you poured salt and lighter fluid all over the bones.

“Goodbye, preacher.” Dean threw a match down into the grave.

Your nose twisted up in disgust. “I will never get used to that smell.”

“What, burnt, hundred-year-old preacher? Me neither.”

You and Dean packed up and headed back to the car that was parked in the cemetery’s parking lot. Your body was exhausted.

“Um, weird question,” you started.

He turned to you and threw his shovel and duffel bag in the trunk.

“You think we could sleep in your car for a bit? I’m running on two days of no sleep.”

He shrugged. “I don’t see why not. It should all be over now and Sam should be layin’ it down with Lori.”

And so, you did. You stretched out over the backseat, and Dean laid down on the front. A few moments of silence passed between the two of you, and strangely, you no longer felt tired. You supposed it was the strangeness of the situation. You were now sharing a somewhat intimate moment with a man you despised just weeks prior. You weren’t quite sure where your relationship with Dean was heading, and that bothered you a bit.

“Dean?”

“Hm.”

“Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, (Y/N).”

***

Four hours of shut-eye later, you felt recharged. You awoke to the sound of Dean’s phone vibrating over which Sam told you to meet him at a hospital.

“Hospital? Why? Is he okay?” you asked Dean, climbing over the front seat to sit shotgun.

“I think so, but he said the reverend’s hurt.”

About fifteen minutes later, you were walking down a long corridor only to be stopped by two cops in wide-brimmed hats.

The sheriffs put a hand to Dean’s chest to stop him.

“No, it’s alright, we’re with him. He’s my brother,” he explained. “Hey! Brother!” he called, waving dorkishly at Sam.

“Let them through.”

“Thanks.”

You and Dean began walking toward Sam, who met you in the middle.

“You okay?” Dean asked.

“Yeah,” sighed Sam.

“What the hell happened?”

“Hook Man.”

You looked incredulous. “You saw him?”

“Damn right. Why didn’t you torch the bones?” Sam responded.

“We did,” you rebutted, confused. “You sure it’s the spirit of Jacob Karns?”

“It sure as hell looked like him,” Sam returned. “And that’s not all. I don’t think the spirit is latching on to the reverend.”

“Well, duh, he wouldn’t send Hook Man after himself,” you remarked.

“I think it’s latching onto Lori. Last night she found out her father is having an affair with a married woman.” He whispered that last part.

“Damn.” You gritted your teeth. “I could see how that could upset her.”

Sam nodded. “She told me she was raised to believe that if you do something wrong, you get punished.”

“Ok, so she’s conflicted,” Dean chimed in. “And the spirit of Preacher Karns is latching on to repress the emotions and maybe he’s doing the punishing for her, huh?”

“Right,” the younger brother nodded. “Rich comes on too strong, Taylor tries to make her into a party girl, Dad has an affair.”

“Remind me not to piss this girl off,” Dean muttered. “But we burned those bones, buried them in salt, why didn’t that stop him?”

“We must’ve missed something,” you said.

“No, we burned everything in that coffin.”

“Did you get the hook?” Sam asked the two of you.

Realization struck you. “Fuck,” you grumbled. “No.”

“Why does that matter?” Dean asked.

“Well, it was the murder weapon, and in a way, it was part of him,” Sam told him.

“So, like the bones, the hook is a source of his power.”

“So if we find the hook—”

The three of you finished Sam’s sentence in unison, grinning. “We stop the Hook Man.”

“Well, back to the drawing board,” you said as the three of you began walking away from the reverend’s hospital room.

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

“Do you know where the hook is?” you raised your eyebrows at him.

He said nothing.

“Exactly,” you giggled.

***

Your next stop was the library for the second time this hunt. As much as you liked to read, obnoxious amounts of research was not your thing. Finally, you thought you’d found something. “Log book, Iowa State Penitentiary. ‘Karns, Jacob. Personal effects: disposition thereof.’ “

“Does it mention the hook?” Sam asked you.

“I don’t know. ‘Upon execution, all earthly items shall be remanded to the prisoner’s house of worship, St. Barnabas Church,’ “ you read aloud. “That’s where Lori’s dad preaches.”

“Where Lori lives, too?” Sam asked, but it was more of a statement than a question.

“Maybe that’s why the Hook Man has been haunting reverends and reverends’ daughters for the past two hundred years,” Dean added.

“Yeah, but I think someone would’ve noticed a blood-stained, silver-handled hook hangin’ around the church or Lori’s house.”

Dean pulled out another book and slapped it down in front of you. “Check the church records.”

Sam pulled the book to sit between the two of you. You and he flipped through pages upon pages of records before he found something. “ ‘St. Barnabas donations, 1862. Received silver-handled hook from state penitentiary. Reforged.’ “ He sighed. “They melted it down. Made it into something else.”

“Goddammit,” you grumbled.

Later that night, you and the boys returned to St. Barnabas Church. Dean shouldered a duffel bag and began leading you to the church. Sam followed close behind.

“Alright, we can’t take any chances,” the older brother began. “Anything silver goes in the fire.”

“I agree. So, Lori’s still at the hospital. We’ll have to break in,” Sam added.

“Okay, take your pick,” you told him.

“I’ll take the house,” Sam responded.

“Dean and I will take the church, then.”

“We will?” the older brother asked.

“Yup.”

You led Dean up to the church. He called back to his brother. “Hey. Stay out of her underwear drawer.”

You could hear the smirk in his voice and giggled.

You took the top floor of the church while Dean scoured the basement. The two of you, along with Sam, met up in the furnace room.

“I got everything that even looked silver,” Sam told you.

“Better safe than sorry,” Dean said.

Your head turned upward at the sound of footsteps. You could hear Dean taking his gun from his jacket as you grabbed yours.

“Move, move,” Dean told you quietly.

You crept up the stairs as quietly as possible. When you got back to the ground floor, you could see Lori hunched over, her shoulders shaking. You lowered your gun and lightly pushed Sam forward. He shot you a look, but headed over to Lori anyway. You and Dean went back downstairs to continue melting the silver.

“I feel for her,” you said quietly. “I know how much religion can fuck you up.” Silver clanked against the coals in the furnace as you spoke.

Dean turned his head to you. “You do?”

You nodded. “I’ve watched so many people go through crisis after crisis when their loved ones end up dead.”

“Me too,” he said earnestly. “Probably why I don’t pray.”

“Well, it’s a little difficult to believe in a higher power when all day, everyday is blood, guts, and monsters,” you remarked.

He chuckled. “Yeah. I don’t know if I’ve met one religious hunter.”

“I have,” you said. “My mom.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. She was somehow still convinced of ‘God’s plan.’ “

“Catholic?”

“Oh, very.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” he replied playfully.

“Yeah, me too,” you smiled. “My dad wasn’t, but, uh, he had his… other issues.”

Before he could ask further questions, you heard commotion upstairs. It sounded like running heading toward the opposite side of the basement.

“C’mon,” Dean urged, sprinting out of the furnace room with his gun in hand. You followed closely behind. You could hear the breaking of boards and slamming of what you assumed were bodies that practically shook the walls that got louder as you got closer. Sam was maneuvering himself behind the Hook Man’s clunkily-moving apparition.

Dean gruffly called to his brother, “Sam, drop!”

His brother obeyed and Dean shot the Hook Man, who disappeared.

“I thought we got all the silver,” you said.

“So did I,” the older brother answered.

“Then why is he still here?” Sam’s voice was frantic.

“Well, maybe we missed something!”

You looked around and noticed Lori’s cross necklace. “Lori, where did you get that chain?”

“My father gave it to me,” she responded nervously.

“Where’d your dad get it?” Sam asked.

“He said it was a church heirloom,” she answered quickly. “He gave it to me when I started school.”

“Is it silver?!”

“Yes!”

Sam ripped the chain off her and threw it to you. You caught it with ease and went to start running back down the hall when the invisible Hook Man started dragging his hook along the wall.

You threw Sam your gun and started running down another corridor you hoped would bring you to the same destination. You could vaguely hear Dean say to his brother, “I’ll cover (Y/N), shoot anything that moves!” before you heard approaching quick footsteps behind you.

You sprinted down winding hallways and thankfully quickly made it to the furnace room. You threw the necklace into the fire and watched as it slowly began to melt. “C’mon, c’mon,” you muttered anxiously. It took longer than you would’ve liked, but the cross broke off the necklace and burned into ash. As soon as it did, you and Dean ran back to the latter’s brother to make sure the ghost was gone. Thankfully, he had, but Sam seemed injured. He was clutching his left shoulder and wincing.

You called the police to the scene and urged them to send an ambulance. They arrived in no time, and Sam was able to get his injury patched up.

“And you saw him, too?” A sheriff was asking you and writing in a notepad. “The man with the hook?”

“Yeah, we all saw him,” you responded. “We fought him off and then he ran.”

“And that’s all?” The sheriff was skeptical.

“Yes, sir.”

“Listen. You and those two boys—”

Dean came up behind you and answered for you. “Oh, don’t worry, we’re leaving town.”

You laughed at his response. Sam and Lori talking near the ambulance caught your eye. You continued watching them in the rearview mirror once you’d gotten in the backseat of the car. Sam soon left Lori, who looked after him sadly, and stooped down into the car.

“We could stay,” Dean suggested.

You could tell Sam wanted to, but he shook his head. A deflated air had settled over the car, but you knew the younger Winchester wasn’t ready for anything yet. He’d been dating Jessica for a year and a half and had just lost her less than four months ago. You knew he needed more time. The best way you knew to comfort him was to wrap your hands around his shoulders gently, minding his injury, from your place in the backseat. He tensed for a moment, but allowed you to hug him nonetheless. He responded by holding your arm with his good hand. And for a moment, if you closed your eyes, it was almost like hugging Steven again.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel @rach5ive @strawberrykiwisdogog @bruhidkjustwannaread @mxltifxnd0m @sunshine-on-marz @big-ol-boat @mgchaser @capncrankle @davina-clairee

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jenanigans1207 · 5 months

Text

“What about angels?” Dean turns his gaze to Cas over the rim of his beer bottle.

“What about them?” Cas answers, his gaze unwavering as ever as it meets Dean’s steadily from his spot in the chair next to Dean.

“Do they have any, y’know?” Dean gestures vaguely in the air with the hand that isn’t holding his beer.

Cas sighs. “No, Dean, I don’t know.”

Dean suspects that isn’t actually true. Cas has been good at reading Dean like an open book and to filth equally and simultaneously practically since the moment they met and he has never had any qualms about stating Dean’s unspoken truths if he felt it was necessary, no matter how Dean felt about it. So he certainly would be able to follow the thought process Dean had followed to jump from their previous topic to this one. But sometimes Cas just liked to fuck with Dean, and other times he liked to force Dean to communicate clearly, despite them both being on the same page and knowing it.

“Mating rituals.” Dean supplies because it becomes clear that whether Cas knew what he meant or not, he wasn’t going to offer anything further to this conversation unless Dean started it.

“You’re asking about angel mating rituals?” Cas asks with enough surprise that Dean briefly thinks that maybe he really didn’t know.

“Well,” Dean shrugs and takes a long draw of his beer. “Yeah.”

Cas’s gaze turns curious as it pierces into Dean, and he looks like he would love to probe around in Dean’s head for some sort of explanation. “Angels don’t—“

“Wait!” Dean cuts him off before he gets a chance to answer. “I want to guess.” He swirls the remaining half of the beer around in his bottle while he thinks before snapping a finger and pointing it at Cas. “I bet you’re like peacocks! You fluff your feathers up all big and do some dorky dance.”

The look on Cas’s face is priceless— somewhere between shocked and incredulous and Dean wants to commit it to memory forever. “No, Dean.”

“Damn.” Dean mumbles, reclining in his seat. “What about a nest? Do you build nests for your mates? Not with like twigs and shit, obviously, but— I dunno, pillows or blankets or something?”

“I believe that’s called a pillow fort.” Cas supplies dryly.

“I’ll take that as a no, then.” Dean taps a finger along the edge of his beer bottle, the condensation cool against his fingertip. “Find a shiny rock and gift that to them? Or like, a pretty piece of glass or something?”

Cas’s expression has turned long-suffering. “Are you going to compare me to every feathered creature you know?”

“Yeah,” Dean doesn’t even try to hide his own self-satisfied amusement. “If you give me long enough.”

Dean tries to think of anything that he can actually picture Cas doing. Because yeah, Cas likes shiny rocks and pretty glass as much as anybody does just because they’re nice to look at, but he doesn’t seem overly affected by them. And yeah, when he naps, he’s been known to find the softest and coziest blanket to curl up with, but that’s just smart. Dean has never seen Cas’s wings, so that’s a fifty-fifty shot, he supposes, but he’s also never seen Cas dance and can’t even picture it in his head.

“Well, allow me to spare us a long— though very enlightening, I’m sure— conversation.” Cas’s glare is unimpressed but it slides right off Dean while barely even drawing his attention. “Angels don’t have mating rituals because angels don’t mate.”

That stops all of Dean’s thoughts short. He turns his gaze back to Cas, surprised to find that Cas has turned to stare absently at one of the bookshelves in the room.

“They don’t?” Dean asks after the silence stretches thin between them.

“No.” Cas answers. And though his response is firm, it’s not mean or cold. “Angels don’t know love, Dean. At least, not romantic love. The only sort of love an angel is meant to feel is the sort of holy love for our father and his creations. The idea of romance doesn’t exist in heaven or to angels at all. There’s no need for mating rituals when mating isn’t something that would ever occur to or appeal to an angel.”

Dean thinks about this for a long time, the rim of his beer bottle pressed against his lower lip but he doesn’t take a sip.

In general, Dean has no problem believing that angels don’t love. In general, angels are selfish dicks and he can’t imagine any of them caring about anything other than themselves. In general, angels would never put someone before themselves in a way that’s required for both platonic and romantic love. But in more specific terms—

Well there is one angel who wears a trench coat and a tie that matches his eyes. There’s an angel who fell from heaven for the love of humanity. There’s an angel who has bled for love, died for love, given up everything that love is supposed to mean to an angel and completely rewritten the definition. There is an angel that has spent the better part of a decade looking at Dean in a way that he doesn’t look at anyone else, making Dean’s toes curl in his boots with the intensity of it.

“But…” the gears are turning as Dean tries to refocus his gaze on Cas. Cas isn’t looking directly at him, but Dean knows that Cas is watching him in his periphery, gauging Dean’s reaction without looking like he’s putting a significant amount of weight into it. “That’s not true.”

“Dean, I am quite certain that I know more about angels than you do.” Cas remarks.

Dean doesn’t rise to the bite of the comment. “But you love.” He says instead.

“Of course, I love humanity and the Earth very much.” Cas answers reasonably.

“Yeah,” Dean says. “I know.” And then, “but I mean romantically.”

“Dean—“

“Don’t you?” Dean challenges.

Cas doesn’t answer the question directly. “I am not a very good angel.”

“You’re the only good one.” Dean replies quickly and easily, with every ounce of sincerity he has.

Because Cas is the only good Angel. Cas is the only one who gets it, who cares, who actually wants what’s best for the world.

Cas is also the only one who can make Dean’s stomach squirm the way it does whenever he’s at Dean’s side. He’s the only one who makes Dean feel safe, the only one Dean trusts. He’s the only one Dean would ever trust or picture a future with. He’s the only one who makes Dean’s fingertips tremble, his heart stumble, his throat dry.

Granted, he’s the only person who does any of that for Dean, Angel or not.

“You think too highly of me.” Cas says before sipping his own beer that he had been nursing for the majority of the conversation.

“You’re avoiding the question.” Dean hedges.

Because— yeah, okay, Dean isn’t stupid. He sees his own feelings reflected in Cas’s eyes when Cas looks at him. He understands what it means when Cas steps closer to him, or gives up an entire goddamn army for him. Dean can be slow on the uptake with emotional shit, but he’s not that slow. And it probably helps that he sees it so clearly because he feels it so clearly in his own heart.

He knows the yearning, the longing, the desire. He knows all the fantasies of the happy-ever-after, all the filthier fantasies that fill up the days in between. He knows what it’s like to want to cling to Cas, to desperately plead with him to never leave Dean’s side. He knows the agony of their separation as acutely as possible. He gets it.

And he also knows why this has never happened, why neither of them have ever crossed that line, even though they’ve never even dared to hint at its existence before. Because he knows that what they would have— that would be forever. It would be ruinous in the most beautiful way, burning down everything around them and blazing a path to eternity. And for so many goddamn years, forever and eternity were in danger. For so many years, a future of any goddamn length was in danger.

What would be the point of starting something meant to last forever when forever didn’t exist? It hurt like enough of a bitch every time Dean lost Cas and he didn’t know if that was the last time he’d ever see him. If he’d lost his forever then, too, instead of just his best friend— well, what the hell reason would he have had to keep fighting? It was self preservation in its barest form, the knowledge that they could only keep going if they kept apart. Because that would keep them fighting, keep them determined to reach the day where forever was finally secured and they could fall into each other without reservations.

And, well, Dean hadn’t killed Chuck, but he had taken the bastard off the board so forever was well and truly theirs if they wanted it.

And Dean wanted it.

He wanted it so bad he almost didn’t know how to have it.

Cas is staring back at Dean now, seeming to go through the same mental calculations that Dean is going through. Dean just hopes that Cas has any idea how to reach out and grab the one thing they both want.

Cas takes a breath, sets his beer down.

“Yes.” He answers simply. “I do.”

Dean swallows against a dry throat. “So?” He prompts. “What’s your big game plan? You get to make up any mating ritual you want.”

“You know,” Cas says offhandedly. “If I tell you my big ‘game plan’, as you call it, you will have to give me feedback on it. How else am I meant to know if it would work?”

Dean licks his bottom lip. “I’m being trusted to approve the first ever angel mating ritual?” He aims for lighthearted, even though he can feel his pulse in his fingertips. “Lay it on me.”

“Well,” Cas doesn’t sound as nervous as Dean feels, even though he knows that he doesn’t really have any reason to feel that way. “I was thinking that I would start with the classic spark— maybe have multiple, raining down.”

Dean chokes on half of a disbelieving laugh.

“Then I would spend about, oh, over a decade at his side, always coming when he called and leaving when he got sick of me. I would try very, very hard to navigate his boundaries and I would be unsuccessful.” Cas’s smile is wry. “I would betray him a time or two.”

“Keep him guessing.” Dean says, the smile clear in his voice.

“Exactly.” Cas is smiling more genuinely now. “I would probably die for him a few times, too. Maybe even accidentally start a family with him.”

Dean has set his own beer down now. “You gotta add in some, like, intense eye contact, or something.”

“And no personal space.” Cas agrees with a nod.

Dean laughs outright now, the nerves draining completely from his body. He had no idea the conversation would steer this way when he had asked what he assumed was an innocent enough question, but he’s glad that it did. Because if he’d had time to prepare for this conversation, time to anticipate it, he knows that he would’ve chickened out. Just like he has so many times in the past.

When his laughter dies down, Cas says “well?”

“What can I say, man?” Dean leans onto the armrest of his chair, putting himself closer to Cas. “It would work on me.”

“Oh, would it?” Cas asks as he, too, leans into the barely there space that’s separating them.

“Hell yeah.” Dean murmurs, reaching across to wrap a hand around Cas’s tie. “Would have me all weak-kneed and giggling.”

Cas starts to say something back but Dean honestly doesn’t give a shit what, so he tugs on the tie and draws Cas to him, pressing a far overdue kiss to his lips. Cas, as always, meets him in the middle, a hand gently encircling Dean’s wrist as he kisses him back with ten years of pent of adoration.

One kiss turns into two, turns into seven before they finally settle back into their respective seats.

“First angel mating ritual in history,” Dean says around a satisfied smile. “And you were successful.”

“Yes, I’ll be sure to tell the other angels in case any of them have a free decade to spend seducing one of the most frustratingly stubborn men on earth.” Cas replies in a way that is full of endearment instead of the frustration he mentioned.

Dean just laughs and kisses him again.

#I can’t explain this #the idea just wouldn’t leave me alone #so I had to type it up so it would go away #destiel #deancas #spn #supernatural #ficlet

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kaleldobrev · 10 months

Text

Betrayal (2) — Take Me Back Series

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Series Summary: After making a deal to bring you back, Sam doesn't see you until years later when your paths cross during a case

Original Prompt: Requested by anonymous | Hi, I just joined Tumblr and came across your blog, it's wonderful! I'd like to make a request, something between Sam and reader. The reader dies and Sam makes a pact to bring her back, but she comes back without remembering him and the hunting life. He thinks it's best to stay away from her. Years later they meet and she falls in love with him all over again, and when they kiss she regains her memory. Do you like it?

Chapter Word Count: 1.6k

Chapter Warnings: Cursing (2x), Sad!Sam

Authors Note: Flashbacks are in italics | If you liked this, don’t forget to like & reblog. I really appreciate it! Feedback is always welcome ♡

Read Chapter One Here | Take Me Back Masterlist

Sam was lying awake just staring up at the ceiling of his and Dean's motel room, simply wondering what you were currently doing this time of night. A few years ago, he would have found you drawing in your journal, but with it being four years later, he was sure that you probably found something else to occupy your time instead. But picturing you still drawing somehow brought him a small sense of comfort.

He sighed, thinking back to one of the last times he had witnessed you drawing -- only a few days before he had made that demon deal in order to bring you back. It was a memory that he often found himself coming back to; a brief moment in time that he had taken for granted; a time he wished he cherished more.

“Ever going to draw me?” Sam asked, turning to his side as he watched you start to draw various assortments of flowers which was one of your favorite subjects to draw.

You grinned at him, holding the pencil in your hand. “Unless you want me butchering your features, I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

“You’re a better artist than I’ll ever be,” he said, resting his hand on your sheet covered leg.

“Give me a few years and maybe I can attempt then,” you smiled, leaning in and giving him a quick peck, a peck that Sam found himself quickly deepening.

"I love you," Sam said, rubbing your cheek with his thumb.

"I love you too," you replied, giving him a small smile.

You were sitting in your armchair in the living room with your sketchbook in your lap; the only source of light in the room was coming from the corner lamp right next to you. For some strange reason, you were currently attempting to draw Agent Sam Campbell, a man that you had just met today. But despite just meeting him today and only having a brief half an hour conversation with him, you felt strangely drawn to him; like there was something familiar about him. The thing that got you the most was when he smiled at you; it was the type of smile that instantly gave you such a sense of peace, like the anxiety you were previously experiencing had just melted away -- no one had ever made you feel that way before. You wished that you could have met Sam under better circumstances, as you probably would have tried and flirted with him. But flirting was the last thing on your mind, as your main priority was finding out who had killed your teens.

Slightly yawning, you got up from the armchair, placing your sketchbook in the side drawer. As you started making your way to your bedroom to try and see if you could get a wink of sleep, your cellphone started vibrating, and you raised a brow; slightly confused as who would be calling you this late at night. Reaching into your pocket, the caller ID read Mel, and you immediately answered the call. You knew that it had to be something serious, as Mel rarely called you this time of night. "Mel, everything okay?" You asked, your voice slightly worried.

“I uh…I need you to come to the center…it’s…it’s an emergency….” Her voice was a slight ramble, trembling.

“What kind of emergency?” You questioned, your brain starting to on high alert.

“The uh…the killer is here…it’s one of our volunteers…” she trailed off again, and slight panic entered you.

“Mel, call the cops or call those FBI guys,” you answered. There were silence on the other end, and then a blood curdling scream. “Mel!” You screamed, and then the line went dead. “Son of a bitch,” you mumbled.

"So, I just did a cross reference of all the volunteers and workers at Y/N's shelter to see if there was anyone present during all five murders. And besides Y/N, there were two other people," Sam said, starting to turn his laptop around for Dean to look at it.

"Mel and Robbie," Dean said, looking at their pictures on Sam's laptop. "Which one are you thinking? Mel or Robbie?"

"Hard to say," Sam admitted. "My instinct is saying Mel only because she was the one that found all the bodies."

"But that doesn't mean necessarily that she's the one that murdered them," Dean continued, and Sam nodded.

"Exactly," Sam agreed. "But, there is something a little weird about Mel."

"Meaning?" Dean asked, passing back Sam his laptop.

"Well, the first two weird things that come to mind is the fact that her name isn't actually Mel, it's Cynthia. And, she's not actually from Kansas City, she's from Malibu," Sam said.

"And what's so weird about that? A lot of people from Kansas City aren't actually from Kansas City. In fact, Y/N isn't even from Kansas City," Dean mentioned.

"Dean, you don't think it's a little suspicious that Mel is actually from Malibu?" Sam asked.

Dean thought about it for a moment before answering. "No, not at all."

"Okay, let me put it this way. Mel moved here from Malibu on March 10, 2019. On March 5, 2019 I made that crossroads deal in order to bring Y/N back," Sam explained.

"March 10th is the same day we came back to Kansas," Dean added.

"Yep," Sam nodded.

"Son of a bitch," Dean mumbled. "You thinkin' what I'm thinking?"

"Mel's the crossroads demon," Sam and Dean said in unison.

"We gotta warn Y/N," Sam said, his voice panicked.

Dean walked over to the motel dresser where he had placed his keys and picked them up in his hands. "I'm hoping you know where she lives Stalker Boy," he said.

Sam looked at his brother about to defend the reasoning for knowing where you had lived, but decided against it, as there was really no time. "Yeah," he said, a little defeated sounding.

You were tied to a chair in the middle of the shelter's gym; all the lights were off and you could barely see anything. The only source of light coming from outside from the moonlight. A second later, you started hearing footsteps from behind you, and your heart started to race just a little bit. Your body jolted a little when two hands were placed on your shoulders. "No need to be nervous Doll," Mel's voice said, but it didn't particularly sound like her natural sounding voice. Her normal voice was a little bit of a higher pitch; this one's was a little deeper.

"I don't know how you don't expect me to be nervous when you have me tied to a chair in the middle of the night," you said, your voice sounding a bit more snarky than you intended it to sound. "How about you untie me and we can talk about whatever is going on with you uh?"

"As much as I love that idea, there's really nothing for us to talk about Sweetcheeks," Mel said, and gave you a quick kiss on the cheek before she grabbed a metal chair and placed it in front of you in order for her to sit down. "I'm just merely stalling for time until the Winchester's arrive to rescue you," she said, the biggest smile on her lips.

"The Winchester's?" You asked, raising a brow. "Who the fuck are the Winchester's?" The only Winchester's you could think of were the gun people. Even then, you weren't completely sure if you had gotten the name right.

"Sam and Dean Winchester," Mel answered. "Your partners in crime. Your found family," she smiled. You still looked at her confused, and she slightly rolled her eyes. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't be frustrated with you. It's not your fault," she apologized. "You know those cute FBI guys that you talked to earlier Sam and Dean Campbell?" She asked, and you nodded. "They're Sam and Dean Winchester."

"Are they even FBI?" You asked. Your question made Mel laugh, almost making her fall out of her seat.

"Oh now that's funny!" She continued to laugh. "No, no. Not even remotely close," she said. "Both of them have been on the FBI Most Wanted List though," she smiled. "And, correct me if I'm wrong, but I think you were on there too at some point."

"I think I would have remembered something like that," you said, your voice a little hesitant.

"Oh! Yes! That's right. You wouldn't have remembered that. Silly me," she giggled to herself. "That's not the only thing you don't remember either."

"What do you mean?" You asked, again, your voice was still hesitant; as you were confused as to what she was even talking about.

"Sammy Campbell, AKA Sammy Winchester," Mel grinned.

"What about him?" You had no idea where she was going with this, but you hated the little teasing she was giving you. She was somehow giving you a lot of information but not enough information at the same time.

"He's the love of your life," she said simply. "Your soulmate. His words."

"What the fuck are you talking about?" You asked her. "I have literally never met Sam before this."

"Aw Sweetheart, but you have. But, it's not really your fault for not remembering, that's what the deal was," she said.

"What deal?" You questioned, the biggest grin formed on her face.

"The deal to bring you back from the dead," she said this so matter of factly. You wanted anything not to believe her, but for some reason, you found yourself believing her words. "In order to bring your pretty self back from the dead, Sammy made a deal with me. And the deal was, I bring you back but you forget everything about hunting in addition to not remembering lover boy."

You looked at her, trying to find a hint of a lie, but you couldn't. She was telling the truth. And you didn't know what you were upset with the most. The fact that you didn't remember that you had died, the fact that there was a whole chunk of your life that was completely missing, or the fact that you didn't remember being in love with Sam.

In the next chapter...

“Sam? Dean?” You called out.

“Yeah it’s us,” Sam replied, walking toward you. “You okay?”

“Yeah I’m fine just…confused,” you confessed, as Sam started to untie your hands from the chair.

“I’m sure. I’m sorry Mel wasn’t who you thought she was,” Sam said, as he finished untying you.

As soon as Sam was done untying you, he moved in front of you in order to stand next to Dean. "That's not entirely it," you said, the two men raised a brow. "Mel...Mel said I knew you guys."

Tag List: @roseblue373 @beansproutmafia @queenie32 @deanwanddamons @missy420-0 @octoberclidan @kidwhofixates @crystal555 @hannahisthebanana @seamlessepiphany @madzzz0797 @livingordeadwhoknows @writinginfear @roskar16 @syrma-sensei @k-slla @justletmereadfanfic @deans-daydream @midorimachisenpaii @rachiem4-blog @fuiabarcelos @foxyjwls007 @sammysnaughtygirl @coldspoons @missscarlettangel @frozenhuntress67 @snakebxtez @crystalandphoebewifey @spnandpj If you'd like to be added to a tag list please follow this link

#Sam Winchester x reader #Sam Winchester x you #spn #supernatural #SPN imagine #supernatural imagine #SPN one shot #supernatural one shot #Sam x you #Sam x reader #female reader #reader insert

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captainremmington-13 · 7 months

Text

A Lady Made of Snow

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own The Hunger Games franchise, the images above, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes, or any of the characters in this fic other than Bellova.

SUMMARY: Bellova begins to notice how dedicated Coriolanus is to helping his tribute, which greatly displeases her. But her anger at the young Snow is temporarily forgotten about when one of her classmates dies in her arms. (i’m using a combination of the movie and book version of the events that occur in this chapter)

Warnings: spoilers for TBOSAS, death, mentions of violent urges, mentions of blood, crying, one swear word

Bellova sighed inwardly, drawing a rose with a fountain pen on her notebook where she was supposed to be writing down Dean Highbottom’s words. The lecture was pointless in her opinion. She knew everything the dean was talking about by heart, and she was alive when the events being discussed were occurring.

She would never admit it to him, but she wished Coriolanus hadn’t skipped class to accompany his tribute. It was unusual for him, the star student, to miss a lecture, even one of Highbottom’s. The competition between them made the dean’s nonsensical ramblings almost bearable.

Then, as if on cue, a breathless and sweaty Coriolanus burst into the lecture hall. All eyes turned to him, shocked at his disheveled appearance.

“Your little excursion was in violation of about five different Academy rules, Mr. Snow. Chief amongst them, endangering a Capitol student,” Dean Highbottom said, not looking up from his papers.

“What?” Coriolanus said, baffled. “Who?”

“You.” Highbottom’s response made Bellova roll her eyes. He was constantly looking for reasons to target the young Snow. “I’m moving for the Gamemakers to disqualify you as mentor immediately.”

“You said we had to get our tributes to perform, not that we had to stay away,” Coriolanus argued, standing at his seat next to Bellova but not sitting down.

“I’ll add insubordination as well,” the dean said smugly.

“Holding her hand, Coryo? Introducing her to people?” Arachne said, clearly disgusted. “You make it look as if we’re one and the same as those animals.”

Bellova couldn’t help but agree silently with her. She hated that Coriolanus had done so much to promote Lucy Gray, even going so far as to touch her. Had he forgotten that he was of the purest Capitol blood, only fit to associate with those who also held that status?

“Coriolanus didn’t show those people anything they didn’t already know.”

Bellova had to grip her textbook to refrain from throwing something at the young Plinth. He was being foolish, saying such things in the presence of the dean and the other mentors.

“I don’t need your help, Sejanus,” Coriolanus snapped.

“That the tributes are human beings. Just like us,” Sejanus continued. “That’s why nobody wants to watch the Games. It’s because people know deep down that winning a war ten years ago doesn’t justify starving people’s children, taking away their freedoms, their rights.”

“Shut up, Sejanus, please,” Bellova murmured through gritted teeth.

Suddenly, Dr. Gaul appeared, startling many of the mentors. Bellova looked at her, setting down her fountain pen.

“Snow fell down in the cage,” she began, smiling crookedly. “It fell down in the cage but it landed…”

“On stage,” Coriolanus finished.

The doctor grinned with delight. “You’re good at games. Maybe one day, you’ll be a Gamemaker like me.”

“If the Games continue at all,” Highbottom added.

“Oh, they’ll continue. With performances like young Mr. Snow’s in that zoo. And I came here to ask your star mentor a question: what are The Hunger Games for?”

This sparked an argument between Dr. Gaul, Highbottom, Coriolanus, and Sejanus. Bellova listened, intrigued. This was the most interesting thing that had happened during one of Highbottom’s lectures since the time Persephone and Arachne almost ripped each other’s heads off over a petty dispute.

Coriolanus then proposed an idea, about making the games more “personal” for Capitol citizens.

“We need them to invest,” he said. “And if we bend a few Capitol laws, we could even have them place bets. Look, I know Lucy Gray may not win in the arena. But if you give her a chance, I would bet the Plinth Prize that she can win people’s attention.”

Dr. Gaul looked at him. “I’d like you to write up a proposal of these thoughts tonight, Mr. Snow.”

“Wait,” Clemensia Dovecote spoke up. “You mean you might actually use his ideas?”

“If it’ll help the ratings, why not?” Dr. Gaul responded.

“Coriolanus and I are class partners, Dr. Gaul,” Clemensia said hastily. “We do all of our assignments together.”

‘Someone’s desperate for approval,’ Bellova thought, giving Clemensia a brief look of annoyance.

Dr. Gaul laughed, sending a visible chill through many of the mentors. “It’ll be an interesting test.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the lecture ended, the mentors went straight to the cafeteria. They were buzzing with excitement at the idea that Dr. Gaul may listen to their suggestions. Having an idea approved by her could do wonders for their future careers.

Bellova stood in line holding a tray, eyeing the mint chocolate fudge in the dessert section. She loved mint. It reminded her of wintertime, her favorite season.

Her thoughts were interrupted by Coriolanus tapping her on the shoulder.

“What do you want?” she asked.

Coriolanus scoffed. “Your perfect manners never cease to amaze me.”

Bellova sneered. “Funny. Now get to the point.”

“I’m going to sneak some food out of here and give it to Lucy Gray at the Zoo. I was wondering if you’d like to come with me. You haven’t met your tribute yet, after all.”

She raised an eyebrow at him, putting a few slices of bread on her plate. “Breaking the rules again? After Highbottom just threatened to write you up for insubordination?”

“You were the one who told me to do anything it takes to succeed.”

“Fair enough,” she sighed. “Fine, I’ll come with you. I’ll give my tribute some bread while we’re there.”

Coriolanus smirked. “Who’s breaking rules now?”

Bellova gave him a look. “I’ll see you at the Zoo, Coryo.” With that, she grabbed a stack of mint chocolate fudge slices and walked off to join her friends.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Later that afternoon, Coriolanus, Bellova, and a handful of the other mentors met up at the Capitol Zoo. They immediately made their way to the monkey exhibit, where the tributes were being held. Nodding at the Peacekeepers surrounding the area, they stood inches away from the bars keeping them separated from the district children.

Bellova scanned the exhibit and eventually spotted her tribute in the corner. “Velvereen!” she called. The girl made her way over to the bars, looking at Bellova warily.

“Who are you?” she asked.

“I’m your mentor, Bellova. Here, I brought some bread for you.” She held out the napkin to Velvereen, who took it instantly. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to visit earlier. I have a busy schedule.”

Velvereen said nothing, focusing on wolfing down the bread.

“So,” Bellova continued. “Have you talked to any of the other tributes?”

“Not besides Facet,” she said, pointing to the male District 1 tribute. “Oh, and the singer girl. The one with the strange dress.”

Bellova glanced over at Lucy Gray, who was talking very intimately with Coriolanus. She fought back a look of irritation. Lucy Gray was certainly a spectacle, but she was clearly deranged. She couldn’t understand why Coriolanus was so fascinated with her, other than her extremely strange behavior.

“I see,” Bellova said. “Well, I promise to visit more often if I can. My advice to you is to make allies. The more that you have, the better your chance of survival is.”

Velvereen nods. “I know. That’s what my father told me.”

Bellova gave her a small smile. “It’s good to know that you have a basic understanding of strategy.”

She looked to her left, and saw Arachne taunting her tribute with a glass bottle. “Arachne!“ she hissed. “What the hell are you doing?“

“Shut up, Bellova!” Arachne snapped. “Mind your own business.”

“Fine!” Bellova snapped back. She and Velvereen continued discussing the Games. She was thankful that her tribute was willing to converse, unlike several, who refused to interact with their mentors. But as much as she tried to focus on her tribute, she felt her eyes wander to Coriolanus and Lucy Gray, who seemed to be enjoying each other’s company. It seemed as if her odd charms were beginning to rub off on the young Snow as well. If she hadn’t been surrounded by so many Capitol citizens, she would’ve been tempted to grab Lucy Gray by the hair and slam her head against the metal bars of the enclosure.

Her violent fantasy was abruptly halted by a chorus of screams.

Brandy, Arachne’s tribute, had grabbed her mentor by the neck and snatched the bottle from her. “Help!” Arachne shrieked, trying desperately to escape her grasp. Before anyone could do anything, Brandy smashed the bottle against the metal bars of the cage, and used the serrated edge to stab her in the neck.

“No, no, no!” Coriolanus screamed, rushing towards Arachne, who lay on the ground, convulsing in pain as the crowd screamed frantically around them. He gathered the girl in his arms, putting his hand to her throat, trying to stop the blood flow. “It’s okay. It’s okay. Hold on. Hold on!”

Arachne gasped for air, blood oozing from her neck. Bellova crouched down at her side, turning her head to face her. “Hey, look at me. Hey, hold on! It’s okay, you’re okay. I’ll get help, I promise.”

“Somebody help us, please!” Coriolanus yelled at the crowd.

Chaos erupted, making the whole scene a blur. Brandy was shot by Peacekeepers, falling to the ground with a thud. The other tributes were screaming wildly, ducking away to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.

Coriolanus and Bellova were eventually dragged away from Arachne, who was lifted onto a stretcher. They were escorted by Peacekeepers out of the Zoo and back onto Academy grounds. Once inside a quiet hallway, they collapsed onto the ground side by side, finally able to process what had just happened.

Bellova, who almost never showed any emotion besides smugness, anger, or contempt in Coriolanus’s presence, began to cry. Her head swam with terror and disgust, the sight of Arachne’s slit throat burned into her mind. She was never close to the girl, she found her to be shallow and hated her whining. But they had grown up together. She was part of the Capitol’s finest, meaning they had attended several events together over the years and visited each other’s homes regularly. And now, she was gone.

“I should’ve done more to stop her,” she said, voice trembling uncontrollably. “She was being stupid, and I just let her keep doing it! Her blood is on my fucking hands! It’s all my fault!”

“Don’t blame yourself,” Coriolanus spoke up. “Blame the district girl. She was the one who did it.”

“I know, I know,” Bellova cried, black mascara running down her face, ruining her perfect face of makeup. “But she’s dead too. I can’t even avenge Arachne by killing her. There’s nothing I can do.”

Coriolanus, who had finally stopped shaking, pulled Bellova into his side gently. He put his arm around her, rubbing soothing circles on her shoulder. “You’re safe now. This won’t ever happen again, the Capitol will tighten security tenfold.”

Without thinking, Bellova leaned into Coriolanus’s grasp. He patiently let her cry into his shoulder, while he tried to help steady her breathing. The two young students clung to each other, forgetting all of their past grievances in that moment.

When they finally pulled away, they looked at each other, as if they were stunned at their own actions. Neither of them were affectionate towards each other, or affectionate people in general. Yet here they were, sitting on the cold marble floor of the Academy, comforting each other.

Bellova cleared her throat. “We should probably get out of here. Let the administrators know that we’re going home early.”

Coriolanus nodded, standing up and holding out his hand to help her up. Bellova took it, smiling ever-so slightly.

“Thank you,” she said quietly.

“Of course,” Coriolanus replied.

They informed the staff that they’d be departing early. Nobody tried to stop them, understanding that they’d just been through a traumatic event. They walked down the steps of the Academy’s main building, standing near the curb.

Finally, Bellova broke the silence. “Let me take you back to your apartment. My driver will be here any minute.” Before Coriolanus could protest, she said, “You’re in no condition to walk that far. I know you always say you walk to and from school to clear your mind, but just let me do this for you. Please?”

“Fine,” Coriolanus said reluctantly.

As they sat in the back of Bellova’s chauffeur’s car, neither of them said a word to each other. The death of Arachne had clearly rattled them both to the core, but they couldn’t bring themselves to talk about it. It still all felt like a nightmare.

Bellova took a small compact and handkerchief out of her bag, using the cloth to wipe away the black stains her tears had left behind. She pressed some foundation over it, erasing any evidence of a breakdown.

Coriolanus watched her, realizing that he’d likely never see her this vulnerable again. He was still surprised that she didn’t slap him for embracing her. They certainly had a unique relationship. Often times they were at each other’s throats, occasionally they exchanged words of advice and encouragement. But nevertheless, he didn’t want to see her so hurt. She was…a friend? A companion? Something other than a stranger, for sure.

They pulled up outside of Coriolanus’s apartment complex, and Bellova’s driver opened the door for him.

Coriolanus turned to Bellova, who was staring down at her hands. “Thank you for the ride. I appreciate it.”

“Don’t mention it,” Bellova said, looking up to give him a small smile. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Coryo.”

“See you tomorrow, Bellova.”

And with one last nod, Coriolanus shut the door behind him, returning to his run-down apartment where Tigris and Grandma’am were waiting.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

TAGLIST: @daenerysqueenofhearts, @squidscottjeans, @euphemiaamillais, @gracieroxzy

Author’s Note: This chapter was a lot longer than the last one lolll I really liked writing this part because things become a lot more intense. Let me know in the comments what you think and if you’d like to be tagged!

#coriolanus snow #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #coriolanus snow x oc #original character #thg prequel #the hunger games #arachne crane #clemensia dovecote #dean highbottom #the capitol #coriolanus snow x reader #lucy gray baird

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babygirlwolverine · 2 years

Text

dean swore he was supposed to leave 15.. maybe 20 minutes ago for this hunt.

he’d found cas in the library, still researching, and he’d dropped a kiss to cas’ forehead, letting him know he was joining sam and eileen because they needed help and he’d be back by the morning. cas had nodded, humming idly, and dean had taken a step away from the angel.

but the words must have caught up in cas’ head, because his hand darted out, snagging dean’s wrist as he said, “where’s my kiss goodbye?”

dean grinned, leaning down to catch cas’ lips in a quick kiss. “I’ll be back tomorrow,” he said against cas’ mouth.

cas smiled softly, “you’d better” he said, breaking the kiss and nudging dean towards the war room. “go on,” cas said, except, dean wasn’t done.

instead, he guided cas up from his seat, pushing the back of cas’ thighs against the table as he stole another kiss, lingering in the way he caught cas’ lower lip between his own. easing back slowly, dean murmured, “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

the way cas’ fingers grazed against dean’s lower back made dean yearn to draw cas back in for more. “I’ll be waiting for you,” cas replied.

letting cas go, dean moved towards the war room, grabbing his shoes and his gun. cas followed him, and once dean had tugged on one shoe and then the other, cas was the one drawing dean up and into another kiss.

“be careful,” cas murmured as he traced over dean’s lips with his own.

“always,” dean said, letting cas lead the kiss; sighing softly as cas’ tongue grazed against his own. when they broke apart, dean was smiling and cas had a fond look on his face. “I should-” dean said, motioning to the door.

“yeah, you should,” cas replied, stepping back and allowing dean to move towards the stairs.

dean squeezed cas’ hip before picking up his keys and stepping up onto the first stair. turning back one last time, dean couldn’t fight the smile that tugged at his lips seeing that cas was right behind him, having followed dean to the staircase.

dean wasn’t sure who leaned in first. all he knew was that they were kissing again; dean leaning down from the step and cas reaching up to press their mouths together. dammit. dean knew he was in a hurry. but there was nothing hurried about the way cas was kissing him; about the way their tongues danced and the way cas’ hands worked their way up the back of dean’s shirt as dean’s fingers tangled into cas’ hair as they kissed. it was slow and languid; deep kisses that had dean feeling lightheaded and blissful.

by the time their lips parted, dean knew he was late for something, but he couldn’t remember what. “well, that was a hell of a goodbye kiss,” dean hummed, guiding cas up onto the step next to him until he could easily press his lips to the corner of cas’ mouth.

dean could feel the way cas’ lips turned up into a smile. “get back quickly so I can kiss you when you get home,” cas said, brushing his nose against dean’s before ghosting one final kiss to dean’s lips.

“that’s one hell of an incentive,” dean grinned, finally stepping away and moving up the stairs, satisfied that he’d gotten his fill of kisses from cas to last until tomorrow. “see you in the morning, angel,” dean said, winking and blowing cas a kiss before heading out the door.

now, the real question was, how fast could dean help sam and eileen with the hunt so he could get back home to kiss his angel?

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winchesterwild78 · 6 months

Text

Unexpected Hunter

Chapter Warnings: fear, injury, death, weapons, some fluff, mention of stalking,

18+ Minors DNI

*********************************************

You didn’t plan to be a hunter. Hell you didn’t even know this life existed until a few years ago. You were in the park on an unseasonably warm day in February when you were attacked. You woke up 3 days later in the hospital with bandages all over, pain coursing through your body and 2 very handsome FBI agents waiting to speak to you. The taller one noticed you were awake and approached your bed. He was tall, had long hair and kind eyes. The shorter one, even though he was tall, had short dirty blonde hair and piercing green eyes. “Good afternoon, Miss y/l/n I’m Agent Smith and this is my partner Agent Smith, no relation. We’d like to ask you some questions about your attack if you’re up for it.

You positioned yourself up and said “yeah of course. I don’t remember much, but I’ll help with what I can.” You told them you were in the park for a few hours sitting on the bench and then you got up to leave. As you walked past a section of trees you felt strong arms grab you and pull you into the tree line. You remember trying to scream but something was covering your mouth. The next thing you remember is a growl that sent chills down your spine and a set of razor sharp teeth bending down to bite your neck. “I’m sorry I don’t remember what happened next. I must have passed out.” You said as tears pricked your eyes. That’s when you noticed the shorter man hadn’t taken his eyes off you. You made eye contact with him and you didn’t look away. The tall man cleared his throat and placed a hand on your shoulder. “It’s okay Miss Y/L/N, we are going to do everything possible to help solve this. Do you recall if you were bitten?” “I don’t think so you” said with wide eyes. “Here’s our card if you think of anything else or need anything.” He said. “Y/n, please call me y/n” you whispered. The other agent stepped forward and for the first time he spoke “y/n, if you need anything even if it’s just to talk please call me.” He said stepping closer to you. You looked up meeting his green eyes and you noticed they looked softer than before.

“Thank you agents. I will” you said taking the card and watching them as they walked out.

“Dean I’m gonna head to the morgue to check on the other bodies.” Sam said as he walked down the hallway. That’s when he noticed Dean standing just staring at your hospital room door. “Dean, did you hear me?” Sam said stepping closer to his brother. “Huh, what. Oh yeah. That’s fine. I’m going back to the scene to see if I can figure this out. I think we are dealing with a werewolf.” Dean said as he walked away.

You sat on your hospital bed trying to remember what happened. A nurse came in to check on you and you asked about your wounds. “It seems like you put up a heck of a fight. Most of the wounds are defensive and not too deep. You’ve got a broken rib and bruising from the punches, but girl I’d hate to see the other person. You hit your head on a rock trying to get away so you’re going to have a headache for a few days. You should be able to go home tomorrow since you’re awake.” She said with a soft smile. “Thank you. I’m ready to go home” you said smiling back. “Get some rest and I’ll bring you some food soon. If you need anything just push the call button.” She said as she walked out.

You grabbed a paper you found on the stand beside the bed and a pen. You started to draw the person who attacked you. Maybe this would help the FBI. You sat drawing and when you stopped you looked at what you drew. A soft gasp left your lips at what you saw on the paper. What started out as a good intention turned into something that took your breath away. Staring back at you from the paper wasn’t what attacked you, it was the green eyed FBI agent. “What in the world y/n. Why did you draw him.” You whispered to yourself as you kept staring at the paper. Pulling you from your thoughts was a soft knock on the door. In walked the green eyed agent. You quickly turned the paper over not wanting him to see it. “Hello y/n, how are you feeling?” He asked as he crossed the room. “I’m good. I have a headache and I’m sore, but they say I might get to bust out of here tomorrow” You said with a smile. “How are you agent? Did you find anything out about my attacker” you asked him. “I’m good and not yet. I did however find this at the scene and wanted to know if it was yours.” He asked holding up a locket on a broken gold chain. “Oh my goodness. Yes, that was my mother’s. Thank you so much for finding it.” You said with tears in your eyes. You took it from him and as your hand brushed against his electricity shot through your body. A single tear slipped down your face as you looked at the locket. It’s been about 10 years since your mother died and you’ve worn her locket ever since. Without thinking Dean thumbed away the tear. Your eyes met and you whispered “thank you” again. Dean nodded and stepped back. He sat in the chair next to your bed. There was a silence that filled the room as you opened the locket looking at your mother’s picture. You were so thankful he found it. “Um Agent Smith, can I ask what’s your name” you asked softly. “My name is Dean” he said looking over at you. “Dean, thank you again for finding this. It’s my most prized possession.” You said reaching out for his hand. “You’re welcome sweetheart” he said.

The silence was broken by his phone ringing. “Hello. Yeah I’m in y/n’s room. I found something at the scene and wanted to see if it was hers. Yep, see you soon.” He said then hung up. “That was my partner we think we have a lead so I need to leave and follow up on it.” He said to you. “Oh yeah, of course. Please be careful.” You said without thinking. He nodded and smiled as he walked out the door. “Dean” you whispered to yourself. The nurse came in a few minutes later with some food and asked if you needed anything. “Do you think you could get me some paper or a notebook. I want to see if I can draw some memories from the attack” you said. “Oh of course I can. I’ll be back in a minute” she said as she left the room. A few minutes later she brought you a spiral notebook, pencils and pens. “Thank you” you said as you opened it to the first page.

You ate your food and then started drawing. Anything you could remember from the day of the attack. You closed your eyes and just let your mind drift back to the day. You don’t know how long you had been drawing but soon you had several pages filled with images. The last image took your breath away. It was him, the guy who attacked you. You realized you had seen him before the attack. He had been around your job, at some of the stores you had frequented. That’s when it hit you. This guy was your bosses son. Your breath caught in your throat and you picked up the phone. You called Dean hoping he would answer. “Hello, this is Agent Smith” you heard him say. “Dean it’s y/n. I know who attacked me. It’s my bosses son. I was drawing and it came to me. He had asked me out several times and I turned him down because something felt off. He’s been stalking me. Showing up at different places I’m at. Please Dean, I’m so scared. What if he comes here.” You said without taking a breath. “Calm down sweetheart, we are on our way.”

He hung up and threw the car in reverse. “Y/n knows her attacker. We’re going back to the hospital Sammy. I can’t lose her” Dean said without hesitation. “Dean, we aren’t going to lose her. She’s safe at the hospital and she’s tougher than she looks.” Sam said looking at his brother. He knew Dean had developed feelings for her already. “I can’t explain it Sammy, I need to protect her. From the moment I saw her that need became primal.” Dean said as he gripped the steering wheel and sped towards the hospital. “I know big brother, I know” Sam said resting a hand on Dean’s shoulder.

They pulled into the parking lot and Dean took off towards your room. Sam was not far behind him. As they approached the door Dean stopped and tried to compose himself. He knocked and opened the door. The minute you saw him tears streamed down your face and he wrapped you in a hug. He kissed the top of your head and ran his hands on your back. “Shhh it’s okay sweetheart. You’re safe. Sammy and I won’t let anyone hurt you” Dean said as he pulled you tight. Your notebook and paper dropped to the floor. Sam picked them up and looked at them. He smiled when he saw the picture you drew of Dean. He showed Dean the pictures you drew but left that one out. Sam called the local police to tell them you remembered your attacker. They went to arrest him but he got away. He knew you had remembered and he was going to find you and make you pay.

Dean stayed with you at the hospital and when it was time to be discharged he insisted you stay with them at their hotel. “No, Dean. I need to go home. I have all my stuff there and my dog. My neighbor has been taking care of her but I can’t just abandon her. If you’re that worried you come stay with me” you said as you pulled on your shoes. “If you’re sure. I can crash on the couch and Sam can crash on the floor.” He said while helping you up. “Nonsense, I have a guest room and the couch pulls out to a bed. Y’all can figure out who gets what. I just want to go home, shower and change.” You said as you both walked to the elevator. You climbed into his gorgeous car as he walked around to the driver’s seat. You both chatted on the drive, nothing too personal. Just some small talk. As he pulled in your driveway your beautiful light brown terrier mix came bounding out of the house. You dropped to your knees “Lexi” you said as the dog started jumping and smothering you in kisses. You laughed as she knocked you over. Dean laughed and bent down helping you up. Lexi came over and started jumping and licking Dean. “I’ve never seen her warm up instantly to someone” you said. He smiled and petted her head as you two walked to your house.

You walked in the house and thanked your neighbor for her help. She hugged you, looked at Dean and smiled. Once she left you closed and locked the door.

You showed Dean around and told him he was welcome to stay in the guest room if he wanted to. “Make yourself at home, I’m going to go take a shower and get this hospital smell off me. There is food and drinks in the fridge. Help yourself to whatever. I think there are a few beers in there if you’re off duty and can drink.” You said as you walked towards your room. You went in your bedroom and closed the door. You leaned against the door thinking about Dean. “Get yourself together girl. He’s going to be leaving soon. Don’t get attached.” You said to yourself. You got your stuff together and walked into your bathroom starting the shower.

Dean heard the water running and walked in the kitchen. He opened the refrigerator and saw his favorite beer in the door and smiled. He grabbed one, popped the top off and sat on the couch. Lexi jumped up next to him and put her head on his lap. He petted her head and drank his beer. As he sat there his mind wandered to thoughts of you. Your smile, laugh, soft lips and your beautiful y/c eyes. He smiled at the thought of you. “Damn Dean, snap out of it. You’re leaving in a few days and you can’t be in a relationship with her.” He thought to himself. Sam called and told him he was a few minutes away and had their belongings from the hotel. When Dean saw Sam pull up in a cab he opened the door and helped him bring in their bags. After they came back inside Dean showed Sam around. Sam said he’d take the couch and set his stuff in the corner. “So where is y/n at?” Sam asked. “Shower” was all Dean said. The brothers were sitting in the living room when you came out. You saw Sam had arrived and you greeted him. He stood up and walked up to you asking how you were feeling. “I’m okay. I just want to feel safe again and I won’t completely until he’s caught. Thank you guys for coming here and staying. The idea of leaving Lexi broke my heart.” “No problem y/n my brother and I will keep you safe.” Dean’s eyes went big and you shot your head around. “Your brother?!?! You asked looking between the two of them. “I thought you were partners.” “Way to go Sammy” Dean said with a grumble. He saw the panic in your eyes. Sam shook his head. “Sorry y/n I thought Dean told you” he said looking a little sad. “No he didn’t. So are you really FBI” you asked with your voice catching in your throat.

They both shook their head no. You stood there for a minute before taking a seat. Panic started to creep up in your chest. You looked between the brothers with tears in your eyes. “I need you to tell me the truth because I’m about to kick you out of my house” you said looking directly at Dean. That’s when Dean explained everything about hunting, monsters and the family business. He also told you that you were attacked by a werewolf and damn lucky to be alive. “He must want you for another reason. Otherwise you’d be dead.” Dean said very bluntly. You shot him a look and Sam slapped his arm. “Way to soften the blow Dean. Damn scare her even more.”

You stood up, causing both men to stand. They towered over you. You didn’t lift your head up you just softly said “um, I need a minute” and walked to your room. You shut the door and leaned against it. You felt your legs give out as you collapsed to the floor. Sobs overwhelmed your body and your tears soaked your face. You felt so alone and so scared. What did this monster want with you if he didn’t want you dead. Then you realized he wanted YOU. To make you like he was, a monster. You felt sick. You ran to your bathroom and fell in front of the toilet throwing up what little you had in your stomach. Sobbing and vomiting over the toilet you felt a hand grab your hair and hold it back. A quiet shushing sound from behind you. “Dean” was the only thought in your head. Once you stopped getting sick you sat back against the tub. Dean grabbed a washcloth and ran cold water on it. He put it on the back of your neck helping calm you down.

“Thank you” was all you managed to whisper out. He sat on the floor in front of you and grabbed your hands. You slowly looked up at him and saw his green eyes soften. You wanted to look away but something stopped you. “Hey, I’m sorry sweetheart. Sometimes my mouth runs before my brain does. I never meant to upset you.” Silent tears fell from your eyes. You had no words or the strength to speak. You just sat there in the bathroom floor with Dean and cried. He pulled you into his arms and held you tight. You could smell him and he smelt like home. He smelled of a mixture of leather, wood, beer and mint. You inhaled deeply and with every breath you relaxed into him.

He placed a soft kiss on your head and you looked up. “Was that okay” he asked. You nodded yes. He swept your hair out of your face and kissed your forehead. You smiled slightly. You both stared at each other and he started to lean in and you stopped him. “Dean as much as I’d like to kiss you I did just get sick. Let me brush my teeth first” you said as you started to get off the floor. He helped you up and let you clean up. When you came out of your bathroom he was standing leaning against the wall. He didn’t give you time to say anything he crossed the room, cupped your face and kissed you. You melted into his kiss. His lips were soft and you felt his tongue swipe your lips asking for entry. You opened your mouth and he deepened the kiss. Your body felt like it was on fire. This man looked like a Greek God and could kiss like one too. You moaned into his mouth and he smiled. He pulled away and took a breath. “You okay y/n” he asked breathlessly. “Yes, Dean I’m okay.” You said looking at him.

As he was pulling you closer Sam yelled from the living room. “Dean, y/n get out here quick.” You could hear the slight panic in his voice and you instantly froze. Dean grabbed your hand and pulled you out of the room saying “I’ve got you sweetheart. I’ll keep you safe.” You swallowed your fear a little and held tightly to his hand. “What’s wrong Sammy?” Dean asked as we walked in the room. “I think we have company” Sam said nodding towards the front door. Dean whispered for you to stay put and he walked toward the window. He saw 2 men on the front porch and they were talking low. “Looks like she’s got company” one of them said. “Yeah I can smell them out here. They better not have touched my girl.” The one closest to the door said. Sam and Dean used hand gestures to talk and Sam grabbed your hand and pulled you to your bathroom. “Y/n stay in here. Lock the door and no matter what don’t open the door. You’ll be safe in here without windows. Here take this. It has silver bullets in it. Shoot whatever comes through this door. I mean it y/n. Whatever comes through.” All you could do is shake your head in acknowledgment. Sam shut the door and you locked it.

The next thing you knew you heard Sam and Dean yelling and there was growling. It sounded like your house was being torn apart. Banging and crashing is all you heard for a few minutes. Followed by muffled shouting. Then you heard gunshots and thuds. Your heart stopped and you listened. The gun Sam gave you aimed at the door. You heard your bedroom door open and footsteps come towards the bathroom. You held your breath. There was a knock and you heard Dean. “Hey sweetheart, you can open the door. It’s safe now.” You stood there for a minute still aiming the gun at the door. “Dean is that really you” you said so low even you couldn’t believe it was your voice. “Yeah darlin it’s me.” He said.

You opened the door and found Dean covered in cuts and blood. Some of which you’re sure wasn’t his. He grabbed the gun from you and put the safety on. You stood there trembling. Dean wrapped his arms around you and just held you. “It’s okay baby. I’ve got you. You’re safe now. Take a deep breath” he said holding you tight. He walked you out into the living room and you looked around. Your house was a wreck and so much was broken. Then you saw boots at the end of the couch. You walked over and saw your bosses son laying lifeless on the floor. You gasped. Sam came over and put his arm around you. “It’s okay y/n he was a monster. If we hadn’t been here he would have hurt you.” He said giving you a big hug.

Once everything was settled with the local police Dean and Sam told you they wanted you to come move in with them. They described the bunker and told you there was plenty of room for you and Lexi. You were sure you didn’t have a job anymore and your landlord was going to be pissed the house was destroyed. So you decided to go with them. They both saved your life and Sam was like a brother to you, Dean was something else. You desperately wanted more with him but you weren’t going to push it. So you grabbed what you could carry, loaded it in baby and climbed in the backseat. Dean and Sam climbed in the front and as Dean pulled away you looked back at your home and sighed. Lexi nuzzled you and you pet her head. “It’s okay girl, we are going to be just fine” you said looking into the rear view mirror you caught Dean’s eyes. He winked at you and you smiled. Settling back you and Lexi drifted off to sleep.

Part 2

#dean winchester #supernatural #family

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castielmydarling · 1 year

Text

Suptober 2023-Day 3: Inspired

Pen to Paper-672 words on AO3 or below Summary: Dean is away from Cas longer than he likes so he finds a creative way to past the time.

Sam leaves the bathroom giving Dean a quick ‘good night’, the sorry again is left unsaid but Dean hears it all the same.

“Night, Sammy.” Dean clips. He knows it’s not his fault but that doesn’t leave Dean any less annoyed. He heads into the bathroom for his own quick shower.

Almost a week ago Sam had come to Dean with a quick milk run hunt. ‘Two days, tops’ he said, Dean wasn't really up for it since it meant having to leave Cas behind.

Before the Empty Cas’ powers weren’t the best but now they seemed to be failing him more. The past couple of weeks have been especially hard, he’s been so tired he’s sleeping more and more. Dean knew Cas would probably insist on coming, always one to put his needs last.

Sure enough when Dean told Cas about the hunt he started getting out of bed saying he was ready. One look from Dean shut that down.

“I know you want to help and believe me I want nothing more than for you to come but you’re not ok. And don’t give me that I’m fine crap because I know you’re not.”

Cas sighed conceding that Dean was right. The silver lining was Jack would be staying home too so at least this meant he could have some quality time with him.

Dean packed quickly, if he waited too long he’d never leave. He went back to the bed, pulling the covers over Cas. He reached down, gently stroking his hair back before giving him a kiss on the forehead. “Sam says two days, we’ll do it in one and I’ll be back before you know it, ok?”

Cas nodded. “Be careful, Dean. I’ll miss you but don’t rush on my account.”

Dean smiled. “Always am. You just rest up and don’t worry about me, ok?” He gave him another quick kiss and set off.

That was five days ago.

Sam’s milk run of a hunt turned into a whole damn Costco shopping trip. After the third day Cas was ready to ignore Dean’s pleas to stay home until Jack finally convinced him it was safer for them both if Cas stayed.

This was the longest they’ve been apart since the Empty and Dean hated every minute of it. He scrolled through the (very) few pictures of them on his phone but it wasn’t enough. He would remedy that the second he got home but for now he did the next best thing-he drew.

He took the notepad from the hotel desk and just started sketching. He didn’t even know what he was drawing until it took shape, Castiel’s eyes. He used a blue pen to fill them in but it didn’t do them justice.

Then it was his hands. Before they got together he vaguely knew Cas’ hands were big and he liked that. But once they were on him? And those long fingers in him? Well, he became obsessed.

Soon he filled up the notepad with sketches of Cas’s eyes, hands, maybe even some NSFW body parts. Eventually he had to get another pad from the front desk because not only was the hunt taking too damn long but he couldn’t stop drawing.

Dean finishes his shower and heads to his room. He slowly opens the door trying to not wake Cas in the process. He’s unsuccessful.

Cas stirs from under the covers. “Dean?” His voice was rough from sleep.

Dean lays next to him, pulling him close. “Yeah, it’s me. Go back to sleep. We can talk in the morning.”

“How many gallons of milk did you get?” he mumbles, sleepy.

Dean laughs, “More than enough.”

Cas is back asleep before he can say anymore.

Dean is exhausted but he’s not tired, not yet. He grabs a pad of paper he thankfully has next to his bed. He does want to take more pictures of him but the urge to draw him like this, in his bed, asleep and peaceful is too strong to resist.

#suptober23 #destiel fic #destiel #castiel #dean winchester #since these are short i decided i'll start posting them here and ao3

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spnexploration · 2 years

Text

Collared part 2

Pairing: Dean x Reader eventually

Series summary: Sam and Dean save a woman from where she has been held as a slave by a witch. But things turn dark whenever they try to take her magic collar off, leaving them with a slave to look after and a curse to break.

Episode summary: Dean removes your collar and things do not go how he expected.

Warnings: Attempted suicide/self-harm, slavery

Word count: 1.6k

A/N: You were all excited for this fic, I'm on night shift and struggling to sleep in the daytime, it felt like a perfect moment to share the next instalment 😆 They won't all be this close together though unfortunately!

Series masterlist | Supernatural writing masterlist

Part 1 <- -> Part 3

“Resero,” Dean said. The collar around your neck popped open and he caught it.

The familiar feeling came back. You instantly felt the compulsion; the unrelenting, insidious, unending, unavoidable compulsion.

You threw your head back and screamed. Your eyes scanned the room, quite against your will. You saw a knife in Dean’s belt and dove for it.

Dean and Sam at first looked bewildered, but Dean reacted quickly to you trying to take his knife. He grabbed both your wrists and wrapped his arm around you, pinning your arms to your side with your back against his chest.

“Hey, hey,” he said, “It’s ok. We’re here to help you.”

You continued to struggle, throwing all your might into fighting him. You didn’t want to, but you did.

“Oi, kid,” Dean said, getting frustrated now. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Let’s just get her out of here,” Sam said to Dean, concern on his face. Dean nodded and lifted you so your feet were off the ground, carrying you over the threshold of the door while you continued to struggle. At least you could pass through it this time.

“Please,“ you panted.

“Please what?” Dean asked. “What do you need?”

He loosened his hold ever so slightly and you took advantage, kicking him in the shin and managing to twist in his grasp. You grabbed the knife from his belt.

He released you fully, holding his hands up in surrender in front of you. “We’re just trying to help,” he repeated.

But you didn’t turn the knife to him, you didn’t threaten him or Sam. Instead, you turned the knife to your own throat.

“Please help me,” you whispered as you started to draw your own blood, slowly moving the knife across your own throat.

Sam grabbed you from behind, forcing your hand away from your throat. You struggled against him.

“Please, I’ll be good,” you whimpered. “Please give it back. I want it. I need it. Please, please,” you begged, still struggling.

“Need what? To cut your own throat? No way,” Dean said gruffly.

“My- my collar,” you panted, very tired from trying to fight the compulsion, and the brothers. “Please, I won’t be bad. I need it. Please put it back on. I promise, I’ll be good!”

Sam was still struggling to hold your hand with the knife away from your now-bleeding throat.

“Maybe it’s a good idea,” Sam panted to Dean. “Just until we can work out what this is.”

Dean pursed his lips but returned to the room and picked up the collar. He tossed it out of the door, perhaps in case it did the same thing to him as it had to you. He seemed able to pick it up again on the other side though without any issues.

“Please,” you pleaded at him.

“I’m sorry, kid,” Dean said as he slid the collar around your neck. “Praecludo.”

The collar locked back around your neck. Relief flooded through you, no longer feeling the compulsion. You felt the familiar fog slide in over your brain, welcoming it as better than the alternative. You were starting to lose memory of what had happened, but you always remembered that you hated having the collar off, that nothing good ever happened with it off.

You fell to your knees at Dean’s feet.

“Master,” you whispered, bowing your head to him.

---

Dean watched your eyes almost cloud over as the collar clicked, and your total demeanour changed. Not just that you weren’t fighting Sam any more, but you seemed like a different person. He wondered what the spell on the collar was, and why you would possibly beg for it. But he had bigger problems to deal with right now.

He heard sounds from further away in the building. “Sounds like we’ve got company,” Sam muttered. “We gotta go.”

Dean nodded, looking down at you still kneeling on the floor.

“Come on, kid,” Dean said, coming over to you and gripping your upper arm to help you up. You felt like a ragdoll to him, moving only because he moved you.

He ran a concerned eye over the wound on your neck but the bleeding had already stopped, you didn't seem to have cut too deeply. It was almost like you'd been trying not to, whilst doing it.

Your eyes still seemed a bit dazed, more so than even before he had removed the collar. Your head wobbled to the side a little as he got you to standing.

Dean released your arm and slid his hand behind your back. His other arm went under your knees and he lifted you into the air.

“M-master?” you squeaked. “Please sir, I am not irreparable, I can be good!” Your voice was getting more desperate.

“Calm down,” Dean responded. “I'm just getting us out of here.” It seemed to work, you stopped complaining and didn't seem quite so frantic.

He was having a hard time reading you, your reactions were not what he expected. But then again, he hadn't exactly met many people who'd been kept as slaves by witches.

Dean and Sam weaved their way through the labyrinthine building, avoiding the other people who seemed to have returned. Sam was brandishing a gun while Dean carried you, glancing behind him frequently.

They finally reached the door, emerging into the bright sunlight. You clutched Dean, squinting your eyes shut and pressing your face into his chest. It seemed to him more than just a response to the brightness, almost like you were afraid of it.

The trio made it to Baby, Dean’s 1967 Impala. Sam opened the back door and Dean slid you into the back seat. Your eyes opened and your expression seemed panicked, but you said nothing. Dean shut the door and quickly jumped in the driver's seat, Sam climbing in the passenger door.

Dean started the engine and quickly drove off.

“Dean...” Sam said with a concerned edge to his voice. Dean glanced at him and saw he was looking in the backseat. He looked in the rear-view mirror.

You were huddled in the corner, terror written on your features. Your arms were wrapped around your legs and you were shaking.

“Are you ok?” Sam asked gently. You didn't reply.

“Kid, are you ok?” Dean asked you, firmer than Sam.

“Yes, sir,” you replied shakily.

“Are you hurt?”

“I am sufficiently undamaged, sir.”

“Kid, you gotta tell me what the problem is so we can fix it,” Dean said. You flinched ever so slightly at his words, which surprised him as he hadn't been angry. He was lucky he'd even caught it, looking at you in the mirror in between watching the road.

“I am... I am unaccustomed to this, sir.”

“We’re not going to hurt you,” Sam said. “You're safe now.” You didn't look particularly comforted by his words and you didn't acknowledge them.

Dean figured the best option was to get you back to the bunker as fast as possible.

---

“Alright, car ride’s done now,” Dean said as he pulled into the bunker’s garage. “Come inside and we'll get you settled,” he said kindly. You nodded and got out of the car, standing next to your door with your head bowed.

Dean felt uncomfortable, so he gestured to the door and said gruffly, “This way, come on.” You followed behind, with Sam bringing up the rear.

Dean stopped walking, pausing in the kitchen. He turned back to find you falling to your knees again, disconcerting him. He shared a look with Sam.

“Uh, how about some food? When was the last time you ate?” he asked you.

“I don't know, sir,” you replied without looking at him.

Dean ran his hand down his face. “I'm going to need a drink,” he muttered.

“I'll get her some food,” Sam said. “You go take a minute.”

Dean headed to the bathroom, splashing his face with water. This situation was fucked up.

He took a few more deep breaths and headed back to the kitchen.

As he got closer, he could hear Sam speaking gently to you, trying to coax you to eat. You were still kneeling on the floor, a plate with sandwich quarters untouched in front of you. Sam was crouching on the other side of the kitchen, perhaps worried that he'd intimidate or scare you if he was closer.

Dean entered the kitchen and stood away from you too, watching. Sam tried to encourage you again, to no response.

Dean felt frustrated. What was the point of saving you from a witch if you were still going to be a slave, and they couldn't even get you to eat? “Just eat the damn sandwich,” he huffed.

You instantly responded, picking up the first quarter and starting to eat it. You were eating quickly, which Dean thought indicated you'd been hungry.

Sam tipped his head at the corridor and Dean followed him. “Have you noticed that she only does things if you order her to?” Sam whispered.

“What? I mean she's kneeling and calling me sir, but I'm not ordering her around.”

“Any time you make a suggestion, she doesn't react. When you make a statement, she does it.”

“Fuck,” Dean breathed.

“I'm just saying, be-” Sam was interrupted by the sound of vomiting. Both men went running back to the kitchen. You were still shovelling more of the sandwich in your mouth, despite being covered in and surrounded by your own vomit.

“Stop,” Dean said quickly, and you froze. “Sweetheart, stop,” he said more gently. You put the sandwich back on the plate.

Sam gave Dean a significant look.

@malindacath

@stoneyggirl2

@iprobablyshipit91

@minty-fresh-donkey

@tiggytaylor

@ellie-andthemachine

@muhahaha303

@nameslessismypricetowhateverend

#Dean Winchester #dean winchester fic #dean winchester fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #supernatural #supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester angst #spn #spn fanfiction #sam winchester fanfiction #sam winchester #supernatural x reader #dean winchester saves you #collar #dark fanfiction #dean x reader #dean x you

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cas-coding · 1 year

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au where dean is a country music star who has been hiding from the world for a year due to being outed as bisexual and then having his fanbase turn on him. he finally emerges for a coffee one day and is almost unrecognizable and when cas approaches him just asking if anything is wrong dean is like oh thank god he doesn’t recognize me.

dean vaguely explains his whole situation before cas tells him that he knows who he is only because claire started listening to his music after he was outed and how she thinks its super cool that there are queer country artists out there. and dean starts sobbing and saying he doesn’t write songs anymore, he can’t, and cas just smiles at him and says it’s okay and he does enough and he can rest.

dean comes back the next week with wired earbuds and a demo for cas. i’m not at my best, i mean, my reputation has never been worse, so, you must like me for me. i can’t make any promises now can i? but maybe i’ll grab a drink. and it’s so charming and dean is strumming his guitar in the background (yes its modified lyrics to delicate by taylor swift shush dean is taylor in this au maybe) and cas just smiles and says thank you to dean.

and every week dean comes back with more samples of demos and things and most of them are angry, he’s angry about what happened, but some of them are soft and lovely. dean hands the phone to cas one week and looks away and cas is confused and then he turns on the song and it’s pretty lovey dovey, just ten second portions of lyrics before dean goes back to the drawing board. his starry eyes could spark up the darkest night, mmmmm, uh, i’ll call it what i want to, yeah, call him what i want to, woah, i’d let him put his initial on a chain for my neck, yeah, not because he owns me, just ‘cause he really knows me,

and cas is so overcome with emotion that he just grabs deans hand and pulls him into an alleyway and kisses him silly and dean is confused because “i thought i crossed a line, you were talking about claire, you have a daughter, i didn’t want to assume but-“ and cas is just breathlessly laughing that claire is his niece and he is very gay and very much smitten with dean and he’s so glad dean likes talking to him as much as he likes talking to dean.

so ofc dean drags cas back to his house and blows him and they fuck silly and of course dean freaks out that cas got what he wanted and will go to the press but in the morning cas is playing a melody on the piano and softly mumbling the call it what i want to, call him what i want to, and dean knows he found his inspiration again.

anyway theres more but im tired so. maybe ill notes app it tmr on the long drive i have.

#swiftienatural #yes deans comeback album is absolutely reputation #au goes until the rep album drops and fans have wonderful reactions etc etc #maybe a sequel about rep tour….#ANYWAY YAY SWIFTIENATURAL I WILL PROVIDE FOR YOU MY BABIES #destiel #dean winchester #castiel #supernatural #spn #deancas

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skylarmoon71 · 21 days

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Winchester - (Supernatural / Smallville Crossover AU) - Chapter 16

Farewells are in order.

“Try not to get snagged by any other celestial beings.” Dean says with a smile.

“I’ll do my best to be less irresistible.” You joke. He gives you a quick hug and Sam does the same.

Jack is standing at the side grinning.

“This was fun.”

“Glad you had entertainment, look out for these troublemakers.”

Jack nods happily. When you turn, Gabriel opens his arms. Castiel standing right at the side of him. You run right over, wrapping your hand around their necks as you smile.

“I love you guys!”

They return it with a smile.

“Hey! So you love them but not us!” Dean complains.

“You heard her.” Gabriel smirks.

Dean draws his blade.

“Son of a-”

Gabriel is gone in a blink and you pull back with a sigh.

“At least it lasted more than ten minutes this time.”

At this point it’s expected.

Getting back to Kansas after all the excitement, well, you know Clark has so many questions. Now in the comfort of your home, you take a seat.

“You cared about him.”

You’d like to say no, he meant nothing, but that’s not the case.

“I did.”

There’s no point in lying. In a way, you still do, but it’s different now.

“Do you..still love him?”

You shake your head.

“I don’t.”

You mean it too.

“I guess in a weird way I’m grateful he showed up.”

There’s a part of you that’s always been afraid to love fully. The last time you trusted someone with your heart he used you to body snatch your brother and then he tried to convince you to join his war.

He manipulated you and it was painful, but you survived. Everything that you’ve been through has led you here to be with Clark, and you can’t help but appreciate all the shitty days. You’d go through it again if it meant that you’d be able to be with him.

“I’m in love with you, Clark.”

You can see the way his face slowly begins to light up.

“You are..”

You nod, giggling at how much he reminds you of an excited puppy.

“I am.”

“That’s good.”

He looks so happy, and you can’t fathom how you were this fortunate. Clark has always had a sort of a hero complex, so it’s expected that when you were in danger he would come running. Still, it feels different.

At least to you.

“Maybe on our next date we can cut out all the super powered angels and just make it about us?”

Clark smiles, nodding as he takes a step towards you.

“Sounds good.”

#winchester #grace #angels #clark kent #supernatural #gabriel #jack kline #trust #smallville #clarkxreader #cute #fluff #dean winchester #sam winchester #love #family #humor #care #feelings

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mrswhozeewhatsis · 1 year

Text

Shifted - The Night Before Christmas (Chapter 4/?)

A/N: My goal was to finish this story completely by New Year’s Day. *checks watch* Hmph. *sigh* Again, this is a Secret Santa fic for @jensengirl83, who I can only hope will forgive me for how long this is taking me to throw together. Also, not beta-read because we die like men and all that. (Want to read what I post a day before I post it everywhere else? Check out my ko-fi page!)

Story summary: The Winchesters are meeting your family for the first time when you all visit for Christmas. Things don’t go quite to plan.

Chapter summary: Everyone goes to their separate bedrooms, leaving you to fight for space in a bed with Sam.

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word count (chapter/story): 1987/6035

Warnings: Here there be smut!

Previous chapter - Series masterlist

When your perfectly reasonable explanation for what had happened between Dean and Tracey went over like a lead balloon, you decided to just cut your losses and break up the party so everyone could relax in neutral corners. Claiming to be extra tired after the day’s drive, you herded the boys upstairs and into your separate bedrooms, taking advantage of your family lagging behind to slip a quick kiss to Dean before turning into the guest room with Sam. You closed the door behind you and leaned back against it, staring at nothing while you tried to puzzle out your predicament.

“Which side of the bed do you want?” Sam asked, drawing you out of your thoughts.

“Doesn’t matter to me,” you replied. “As long as you stay on your side of it and don’t kick me in the night,” you teased with a smile.

Sam chuckled. “I’ll try.”

Just then, you heard your parents and Tracey coming up the stairs through the door, so you quietly shushed Sam and pressed your ear against the wood to see if you could hear anything. It was all whispers, but you managed to catch a snippet of conversation.

“…I just need to do some research to be sure,” your sister insisted.

“Then do your research. I want to know who’s sleeping under my roof!” came from your dad.

“I’m sure they can’t be that bad. We didn’t raise a fool.” Thanks, Mom.

“Everyone’s a fool, sometimes….” Really, Dad?

The whispers faded away and you slumped with your forehead pressed against the door, despairing. Tracey also wasn’t a fool and depending on what she ‘researched’ about the boys, she could find any number of things. Things were just going to get worse. After banging your head against the door a couple of times, you turned into the room and started getting ready for bed, your mind whirling. You got changed into your pajamas, you and Sam both changing with your backs to each other like you always did when you shared a room during hunts, and crawled into the bed with a sigh.

“Hear anything good?” Sam asked after he’d crawled under the covers next to you.

“Nope. In fact, it sounds bad. Tracey’s going to do ‘research’ to be sure about something, and my dad thinks I’m a fool.” You lay on your back, staring up at the ceiling, and sighed. “I just don’t know how to fix this.” You threw your arms up in the air and let them fall back to your sides with a whump. “Maybe I need to just talk to Tracey alone and find out what she’s thinking. Just come right out, take the bull by the horns, and ask her what’s got her so suspicious.”

Sam grabbed your hand and squeezed it. “You know your family best. This plan was half-cocked to begin with, but now we’ve got overnight to think about it and find a way to fix it. Let’s sleep on it. Maybe Santa will bring an answer?” Sam teased.

“I wouldn’t trust a mythological being that eats nothing but cookies and milk and plays with elves to fix my life, Sam. And don’t get me started on the multiple felonies he commits on a regular basis. Stalking? Breaking and entering? Honestly, he’s worse than us,” you deadpanned, giving your friend a smirk.

Sam chuckled and let go of your hand. “Alright then, I’m going to sleep,” he said as he turned away from you and got comfortable. Pretty soon, you heard his breathing even out, so you turned off the light and stared into the darkness, thoughts continuing to circle in your mind.

An hour later, you were still lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, only now you were missing Dean. As feared, Sam had begun to starfish, and now he’d kicked you in the shin and nearly elbowed you in the side at one point.

Sam let out an ear-splitting snore that seemed to startle himself almost awake. With a groan, he turned over towards you, kicked you for the second time, and threw his arm across your waist. If it had been Dean, you’d have just snuggled into him, and it would have been fine. But it wasn’t.

“Oof,” you groaned at the heavy weight of his arm practically sucker punching you in the gut. “Alright, that’s it,” you declared quietly, not really wanting to wake the giant. “I’m getting the fuck out of here before you do some serious damage.”

With much effort, you wriggled out from under Sam’s arm, then almost fell out of the bed in the process. Once you were out, you straightened yourself out and gave one last glare at the man you thought of like a brother. He’d already shifted in the bed, again, and was literally taking over the entire queen bed, your pillow now scrunched underneath his head.

As quietly as you could, you opened the door and crossed the hall to your old bedroom door. The door was unlocked, and you snuck inside, softly closing and locking the door behind you. You checked the bathroom door, made sure that it, too, was locked, and then tip-toed to the bed.

Dean was lying on just one side of the bed, one arm reaching across the bed. As you made your way to the other side of the bed, he mumbled quietly into his pillow, “Sam took over the bed, didn’t he?” The arm stretched across the bed grabbed the cover and lifted it up for you without any other part of him moving.

With a quiet chuckle you replied, “Yeah. Kicked me twice, too.” Crawling into the bed, you slid under the cover and snuggled close to your boyfriend, tucking your face into his neck.

Dean tucked the cover around you and pulled you close, moving just enough to kiss the top of your head. “I’ll protect you from the big, bad Sammy. Promise.”

Immediately feeling like you were where you were supposed to be, you sighed happily and drifted off to sleep.

Sunlight was peeking in through the curtains, shining in your eyes when you woke to feel Dean’s arms around you, his hands wandering your body while he rutted gently against your ass. You knew you had to be quiet. This was your parents’ house, for Pete’s sake, and you weren’t supposed to be in this particular bed with this particular Winchester, er, Campbell. If anyone heard, the jig would be up and the whole plan would crash and burn.

But Dean’s hands…!

A quiet moan escaped you, in spite of you biting your lip to try and stop it, and Dean answered with a quiet moan of his own.

“Been waiting for you to wake up, pretty girl. But you have to be quiet,” he whispered in your ear, his warm breath tickling you and sending goosebumps down your body.

“I’m not sure I can,” you whimpered. “You know how I get.”

Dean chuckled. “Yeah, I do.” He shifted a little while he murmured, “Let me help you out, then.” One hand moved up to cover your mouth while the other finally made its way into your pajama pants and between your legs. As his fingers explored you, finding you already wet and ready, you were glad for the hand over your mouth. You shifted to open yourself up to him more, pressing against him behind you until he bit into your clothed shoulder to muffle his own groan.

You knew this was a bad idea, but that just made it so much hotter. Molten lava seemed to rush through your body as he worked you expertly with his fingers. Dean always knew exactly how to touch you to get you off faster and better than any other man ever had. He also knew how to stretch it out if he wanted to, making you beg until he was ready to give you what you wanted. This morning, he seemed more intent on making you come fast and hard until you saw stars.

“Been thinking about this room,” Dean whispered in your ear between desperate breaths as you moved together. “Wondering what teenage you did in this bed, who you thought about, if they ever lived up to your fantasies. Wondered if anyone else ever got to be in this bed with you like this. Or am I the first? What did you dream that your high school boyfriends would do to you if they were ever in this bed with you? Did you touch yourself while you imagined them touching you? Is this anything like what little teenage you imagined?”

You couldn’t exactly respond with Dean’s hand over your mouth, but you were sure he could feel the rush of arousal that felt like it flooded out of you. You were close, and he was relentless, his fingers deep inside of you and his thumb on your clit, working together to build you up higher and higher.

“Fuck, baby, you’re gonna blow soon, aren’t you? I can feel you almost there. I’m nearly there, too. Haven’t come like this since I was in high school. You’re so much better than anything I ever dreamed of, though. So fucking hot,” he groaned, his hands working steadily as his hips rocked into yours faster and faster.

Your high hit hard and fast, leaving you almost biting Dean’s hand to keep quiet as the pleasure rocked through you. Dean locked up behind you as you started to come down, his fingers temporarily stalling while he met his end. When he started to come back around, you felt him gently withdraw from you, leaving you feeling empty, but sated. He dropped his hand from your mouth, and you hauled in a couple of breaths before your breathing slowed back down to normal. Dean’s lips brushed your neck and shoulder while he withdrew his hand from your pants, and then you heard him lewdly lick his fingers clean.

“Damn, baby, that was something else,” he murmured. “Totally worth nearly getting my hand bitten.” Dean chuckled quietly while you turned in his arms so you could give him a teasing glare and roll your eyes at him.

You both smiled goofy smiles at each other before Dean kissed you softly. You kissed quietly for a few minutes, just enjoying being close, in spite of everything that was going on around you.

“I should probably get out of here before people start waking up and wondering where I am,” you said between sweet kisses that would have possibly led to round two if you were at home in the bunker and not seeing a boy band poster on the wall.

Dean hummed his agreement, and the two of you worked to separate yourselves. As you worked to straighten out your panties and pajama pants, Dean pulled his sticky boxers away from his skin with a noise of disgust.

“I forgot how gross this is,” he muttered while you stifled a giggle.

“Let me get to the bathroom and get out first, and then you can take a shower and get cleaned up.”

“Sounds good,” Dean said before dropping a kiss onto your nose and releasing you from his hold so you could get out bed.

Feeling happier than you had since you got in the car the day before, you left the bed and stopped at the bathroom door, listening intently for signs that your sister was awake and using the facilities. Without a sound, you opened the door and stepped through, silently closing the door behind you.

As you turned around to lock the other doors so you could pee, Tracey’s door opened and she saw you, clearly coming in from the ‘wrong’ door. “Y/N?” she whispered loudly, her eyes wide and jaw tense. “What were you doing in there with Dean while your boyfriend is across the hall asleep?!?”

Chapter 5

Ye olde forever tags list: @icecream-and-gadreel @manawhaat @sammit-janet @littlegreenplasticsoldier @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid @iwantthedean @growningupgeek @feelmyroarrrr @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @chelsea072498-deactivated202303 @helvonasche @rizlowwritessortof @wheresthekillswitch @sandlee44 @icequeen1371 @tistai @pie-and-pudding @thelittleredwhocould @supernaturallymarvellous @ellen-reincarnated1967 @notnaturalanahi @salt-n-burn-em-all @fumar-et-flores @chalicia @smalltowndivaj @littlefreakingfangirl @straightestgay-voice @percywinchester27 @vanessa-monique-blog @gallxntdean @antares1980 @hunterpuff @beffyblueeyes-blog @sammiesamness @cassieraider @emoryhemsworth @speakinvain @andkatiethings @latetothewinchesterparty @winchesterprincessbride @drakelover78 @calaofnoldor @idreamofplaid @akshi8278

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inventors-fair · 1 year

Text

Another Brick in the Wall: School's In Runners-Up

Here's the next three!

First Flight by @batatafilosofal It’s funny; normally the big, flashy cards are what catch my eye, but there have been a lot of simple ones this week that are just so well-executed. This one does what it sets out to do as a cheap combat trick, but delivers such a slam-dunk on the flavor, using a common trope to really inform the mechanics. The art description, though mostly unnecessary for such an evocative concept, just really layers on the excitement and adventure that the card delivers. Honestly, my only wonder is whether or not this could get a minor upgrade of some sort. Comparing to Aspirant’s Ascension, they both have upside, but Ascension seems to have even more. Whether you get to scry a little or maybe cantrip, I think this could afford to be made a touch stronger. Also, I’m assuming common, but don’t forget to put a rarity on the card!

Nessian Instructor by @grornt

It’s (fairly) common knowledge that green doesn’t really get ETB fight anymore due to how much that acts like a straight removal spell, but this sidesteps it in such a green way that it definitely still feels in-pie to me. You’re still reliant on another creature to deal the damage, so it fits the niche nicely. Honestly, I think you could have upgraded this to be a Bite effect for 5 mana, though we don’t have much else to compare it to as is. In terms of flavour, the whole “learn by doing while I stand back and watch” vibe is clear, and it definitely fits with the whole vibe of Nylea/ the denizens of the Nessian Woods, so good on that. Back to the Bite effect, I think that would also fit better with this flavour, since it doesn’t seem as though the beast being hunted would have a chance to fight back in this scenario. Still, it’s a nice, clean common that I would not be upset to have passed to me in a draft pack.

Loremaster Initiate by @nine-effing-hells

I’ll be the first to say that level-up is clunky as hell, and I wish it wasn’t because the concept is so great. I think this is a brilliant solution to it. You can have an infinite number of milestone conditions, and since it triggers on end step you can inherently balance the cards without being worried about someone achieving the condition five times in one turn. The progression of abilities here is clear too, though I have a hard time seeing a situation where you’re not straight-up winning after three turns of drawing 2+ cards every turn. I’ll admit I don’t quite get the flavour, other than just a straight-up “this guy is gaining knowledge because he’s gaining knowledge”, and that’s more the ‘learning’ side of things than the ‘teaching’ side of things I wanted to explore this week. But I digress. Still a fundamentally cool card, and a mechanic that I could see being a lot of fun to play around with. Kudos to you for that.

I'll see you sometime next week for the rest of the commentary! Until then,

~judge @naban-dean-of-irritation

#mtg #magic the gathering #custom magic card #inventor's fair #runners up #school's in

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hahahahahangst · 2 years

Text

Irene (Be The Young 20)

GIANT TW which will be valid for each episode for suicidal thoughts, self-h*rm, violence, cursing, relatives dying, mentions of s*x, s*xual assault

All chapter titles are song titles, some of them translated from Italian songs. We start from the first season and make out way through the series. I will break canon (mostly from the S2 finale) but will try to get back into it for the sake of ✨ lore ✨ .

Summary: Emily's life used to be normal. Until one day, her family died, leaving behind just one letter.

"After reading this whole letter, call John Winchester. [...] He’s your real father."

MASTERLIST

Irene

Irene the future I wanted to gift you I had to exchange it for the vinyls I keep in the attic I’ll gift them to you when you’ll be out of hope and you’ll feel defeated

They had been hunting a Djinn. Emily made a wrong move and the last thing she had seen before waking up in a different place was a bright blue light. When she opened her eyes, she was in a familiar place. A baby cried in the background.

Not any baby.

Alex.

Emily’s eyes shot open. She was home. Her actual home. In Portland.

And Alex was crying. He was alive.

Maybe it had all been a nightmare.

Maybe it was finally over?

She ran out of the room and inside Alex’s room. He was there, crying. She had wished to hear it once more many times. She took him out of his crib and rocked him a bit.

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.” She said, caressing his head and trying her best not to cry.

“Is he hungry again?” Asked a familiar voice behind her. When she turned, Dean came into the nursery. She stared at him, suddenly brought back to reality.

It wasn’t over. She was hallucinating. None of it was real.

“Your mom will be back in a couple of hours, but I think dad mentioned she pumped some milk before she left.” Smiled Dean. “Are you okay? You seem sad.”

“Yeah- No, I’m fine. Thanks Dean.” She hesitated, admiring his calm and his stress free state, something she had rarely seen in Dean before. He seemed way younger than he looked in real life, more relaxed, more happy. He smiled back and left. Emily went down the stairs and reached the kitchen. She had not seen that place in so long it felt like forever. Everything was exactly like she remembered it. The fridge was still covered in the silly magnets her mother brought back from everywhere they went, the wall still had all her childhood drawings on it.

Next to the front door, her school backpack was flopping on itself, half empty. The living room still had the signs of a movie night.

Emily put Alex down in his high chair and opened the fridge. Her mom had baked her some carrot cake and next to it, apple pie. She found some pumped milk in the back of the fridge and fed it to Alex, with a gesture so familiar, yet so distant. She quickly started crying. It felt good. Too good. But it wasn’t true. She knew she had to leave and yet, she didn’t want to.

If she stayed too long, her body was going to die, but being able to live in her own house, holding her brother again, feeding him like that again… Maybe it was worth letting her body die to experience all of it once again. Alex happily drank his milk and the front door opened.

“Mom’s back!” Emily quickly dried her face from her tears and ran to her mother at the door. She hugged her. “Woah! What’s with all the love, honey?” Asked her mother, hugging her back.

“I love you mom.” Answered Emily, unable to let her go. “I missed you.”

“I was just out for the day, Emily, are you okay?” Her mother checked her whole figure, trying to find out if she was hurt or if there was something wrong. Emily enjoyed the warmth of having a parent again for two seconds. Dean also arrived in the entryway.

“Girls, I’m gonna go see Sam today, will I see you after dinner?” He showed them the car keys, indicating he was about to leave.

“Sam?” Repeated Emily, smiling. “Can I come with you?”

“Really?” Asked Dean. “I think dad will be there.”

”...and?” Emily already had one arm in her jacket. “Why wouldn’t I want to come?”

“Well, you.. and dad, you were never exactly in good terms. It’s the first time you ask me to come along.”

“Me? Not wanting to see Sam? I highly doubt it.” Smiled Emily, closing her jacket. “Come on, let’s go.” Dean, clearly confused, exchanged a weird look with Emily’s mother and then left. Emily followed him, expecting to sit in the Impala.

Instead, Dean unlocked a family van.

“Wait, you drive this?” She asked, confused.

“We all do, dumbass. Come on, visiting time doesn’t last all night.” He said, turning on the engine and looking at Emily entering the vehicle, impatient.

“Visiting time?” Repeated Emily, progressively putting pieces together.

Dean exhaled. “Emily, are you high again?” He questioned, disappointed.

“What? No, I’m-” Dean entered a street that Emily knew very well: it brought to the hospital.

Visiting time doesn’t last all night.

“Dean, why is Sam in the hospital?” Her eyes filled with tears again.

”...so you are high- Emily, there was a car crash, remember? You drove into a tree.”

Emily inclined her head, not understanding, and kept looking at him, waiting for an explanation. “Emily, I thought you were finally sober.”

“Dean, I-”

“Nevermind, you never change. You just traded alcohol for weed.” He got out of the car, leaving her behind. Emily followed him.

“Wait! Really, I’m not high or… drunk, Dean, listen!” She caught up to him in the hospital lobby. “I was captured by a Djinn, I’m stuck in this hallucination!”

”...a what?!” Dean rolled his eyes and entered the elevator. “Whatever you smoked, kid, it’s not the good stuff.”

“Dean, I’m not high! I’m on the job!”

“Sure you are.” Dean left the elevator shaking his head. Emily kept following him until he entered one of the rooms.

Sam was lying on the hospital bed, perfectly still. He didn't have as many machines as Dean had when he almost died. He was there, the monitor beeping rhythmically, slowly, almost peacefully, keeping him alive.

Sitting next to his bed was John. Emily looked at him and smiled, but he didn't smile back.

“What is she doing here?!” He asked instead, angry.

“Dad, now's not the time. She just wanted to see Sam.”

“She's the reason he's here! She's a fucking drunk and she killed my son!”

Emily, shocked, took a step back, bumping into a table. “Wait, is… is this my fault?” She asked.

“Of course it is, you-”

“DAD!” Interrupted Dean. “I don't think she remembers any of it at the moment.”

“Are you telling me she's drunk again?”

“I'm not drunk, listen!” Emily pleaded. “This is not real, it's created by-” Emily looked at Dean and John. They didn’t know what a Djinn was. They weren’t hunters. John shot out of his chair, aggressive, but Dean was quicker and he accompanied Emily outside of the small room. He took her face into his hands. Emily closed her eyes and started crying. It was probably the most affection she had felt from Dean since they had met.

“Kid, listen, I know the crash was- it was the worst thing at the worst moment, but… You can't slip into it again. Think about how much it took you to stop drinking- don't make us go through all of that again.” Of all the things Emily wanted to ask, she chose to say nothing. She could have asked if Sam was really there because of her, if they had ever been happy, but she chose to enjoy the hug Dean was offering and cried. “It's okay, kid. I'm sorry. I should not have brought you here.” She felt his lips on her hair and then Dean's chin, resting on her head. Emily knew she had to leave the hallucination. If it felt extremely good to have her mom Alex back for a little, there was another side to the coin and it was a very painful one.

All she could think about was Sam’s lifeless body, her father’s voice repeating over and over how it was her fault.

When they arrived back home, Emily went directly to Alex and her mother, who where still in the kitchen finishing up dinner. Emily stopped her mother from doing the dishes.

“Don’t worry, I got them.” She kissed her. Her mother seemed surprised and went to take care of Alex. As she did the dishes, she tried not to think of any of the bad things. To just tap in her old life, where she didn’t know the Winchesters, when everything was easy, when everything was always clouded by the familiarity of being safe, at home. It didn’t come too difficult, despite Dean sitting in the living room watching a soap opera felt a little out of context.

After doing the dishes, she insisted she took everyone out to get ice cream.

“Emily, what is going on with you today?” Asked Dean as he sat next to her in the van.

“I guess… I’m just grateful for what I have left.”

”....alright? Are you sure you should be driving?”

Emily raised an eyebrow and looked at her mother, who was sitting behind them. She looked worried. “Of course, uh- I’ll be shotgun.” Emily rolled her eyes and went out and around the car, leaving the driver’s seat to Dean.

They calmly drove to the Portland mall. Emily took Alex’s stroller and pushed him around for the whole night, occasionally making faces at him to make him laugh. She got her mom ice cream and insisted on getting Dean some apple pie with an ice cream scoop, which they ate while sitting on a bench. “Is it good?” She asked, stealing a piece of cake from Dean’s plate.

“Very good. Thanks kid.”

“Ah-” Exhaled Emily, slouching back on the bench to take in her surroundings. “I really wish I could stay here forever.”

“Why, where are you going?” Asked her mother, confused.

“Mom, do you know… how if you are about to die in a dream, you wake up?” She asked. Dean and her mother assumed a more worried expression.

”...I guess, yeah. Why are you asking?”

“No reason.”

She could not wait any longer. She spent the rest of the night playing with Alex and having a good time with her mother and the most caring, loving version of Dean she would probably ever encounter, knowing that it was going to be her last night. She wasn’t sure it was going to work, but there were two choices: she died in the dream and woke up alive in the real world, where Dean was an asshole and Sam was alive, while everyone else was dead, or she survived in the dream and died soon after in real life, ending the dream. She went home and kissed everyone good night. She entered her room and locked the door behind her.

She knew exactly what to do. She had to die. And if she knew herself, she probably had something to do it, right in her room, and that something would have been razor blades, well hidden in the same double bottom she used to hide cigarettes in.

“Bingo“ she whispered as she extracted a pack of blades. The second she actually felt the cold metal on her skin, she started doubting her plan.

Maybe it wasn’t that bad. Maybe the time passed slower in the dream, and she could have been there forever. Grow old and see Alex learn how to read, defend him from bullies, drive him to college. Maybe she could have stayed and she could have had a happy life, even if it was a fake one. Even if she only had ten days left in the hallucination, ten days are better than no days. She moved the blade away from her arm and put it on her desk. On it, she saw an open book, with a highlighted quote. We live alone, We die alone. Everything else is just an illusion.

Right. An illusion. She wasn’t living, not really. Her body was most likely tied up somewhere and the djinn was using it to have a thanksgiving feast. The people she loved were really dead. Her house had really burnt down. And Sam and Dean were waiting for her on the other side, the only one that mattered, as painful as it was.

She took the blade in her hands again and pressed it on her forearm. She traced a long, vertical line. She was weirdly calm as the blood started flowing out, surprisingly painlessly. As she did the same on her other arm, someone knocked on her door.

“Emily, open the door!” Said Dean’s voice. She closed her eyes and prayed he wouldn’t have a key. That he wouldn’t enter, not at that moment. It didn’t take long for her vision to get blurry, her pressure becoming lower and lower as she felt her body become heavier and heavier. She fell on her side and saw the blurry shape of Dean entering the door and running towards her. The last thing she felt was Dean’s warm hands on her face, then, everything started to re-focus on Dean, who was actually trying to get her to wake up. She grunted, in pain, as she realized the pain she felt in her wrists were actually the ropes she was hanging from. Dean’s face became more focused as he kept calling her. “Emily! Come on, wake up!”

“Oh god- where’s the djinn?” She opened her eyes.

“Took care of it. Dude, we thought we lost you for a second.” Said Dean, trying to set her free.

“Oh my god, you know what a djinn is… It worked-” She fell to the ground. Sam appeared in front of her as she sat back up. When she saw him, she stood up and jumped to hug him.

“Woah, okay- Missed me or something?”

“Of course I missed you.”

#am i going insane #yes probably #but anyway #supernatural fic #supernatural season 2 #djin #sister winchester fanfic #TW #be the young #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural angst #supernatural sister fic #spn #spn fanfic #ao3 #supernatural a03 fanfict #sister fic

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theindependenttrentcrimm · 2 years

Text

The One With the Shifter

Eric tilted his head back, mouth open in a loud laugh. He dropped his bottle onto the table.

“He didn’t!”

“Swear to god he did. Stupid son of a bitch ran straight at me, capped him in two,” Dean grinned back. “Silver bullets,” he mimed blowing smoke over his two fingers, formed in the shape of a gun, “Nothin’ like em.”

“Damn straight.” Eric leaned across the table and clicked their bottles together. Even John was relaxed, his eyes that were usually guarded and cut into a cruel shape flitted across the room in an almost calm manner, people watching rather than assessing threats. He was pressed against the wall of the booth next to Dean, leather jacket like a foreboding presence, real in its own nature.

“So,” Eric said, one lazy long grin of a person, bouncing from place to place without direction or a serious bone in his body. His partner was different, flinty eyes, dark hair, and a grin that opened under the press of a bottle. He was older, hairs graying, around John’s age, the one who had hooked them up in the first place. “I’m sure you’ve got war stories, John.”

“Eric,” his partner warned, mouth dipping into a frown.

“Kaleb,” Eric mouthed back, eyelashes framing hazel eyes in a faux placating gesture. His lips parted in a long draw, Dean’s eyes following them as he swallowed, all the way down.

“Sorry ‘bout him,” Kaleb said, directing his gaze to John. Dean watched as Eric’s fingers played with the condensation trickling down the side of the bottle. They were long and slender, nails chipped and dirty on calloused fingertips. They stilled, directing his gaze upwards to the owner’s face, eyes teasing his own.

“‘S fine, no problem with being curious.” Dean could feel John’s stare on him, hot and claustrophobic, holding him in place. “Just be careful it doesn’t bite him in the ass.”

Dean cleared his throat, “More beer?” Kaleb tilted his beer amicably, almost empty.

“I’ll join you,” Eric said, gathering his own in his hand.

“Right,” Dean swallowed and it was a testament to how strange the whole situation was that he didn’t even register his father’s, “Thank you, Dean” until after he’d already picked it up and his feet took him away from the table.

“So,” Eric said, after ordering and sliding his arm until his weight shifted from his responsibility to that of the bar’s. Loose limbed. “Your dad’s kind of intense.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Dean felt a laugh bubble up out of him. Eric grinned back at him and something inside Dean’s chest curled. He looked away, mouth pulling into a frown. “He needs to be. Intense. Anything else gets you killed.”

“He tell you that?” Dean didn’t deign to respond.

“Two beers.” Eric turned to the bartender and grabbed the offered drinks.

“Thanks.”

“Two?” Dean asked. Eric shrugged.

“They can entertain themselves.” Dean’s nose wrinkled.

“Dude.” Eric shrugged again and the light from the blinking sign above the bar hit his shoulders and framed his head in pale light. The breath caught in his chest.

“Relax,” Eric said, handing him one of the two beers. “You can survive without him for ten minutes.”

“Smartass.”

“Comes with the package, sweetheart.” Dean nearly choked.

“Hey, man. Flattered but I don’t,” his protest died on his lips as Eric tilted his bottle and pressed it against his lower lip.

“You don’t?” He pressed. Dean shook his head. Eric’s laugh bubbled out of him, light, flirty. “Figured. It’s always the ones who are too damn pretty for their own good.” Dean meant to disagree, say something about the shifter bits in his hair or the smear of dirt across his nose but all that came out was,

“You’re not too bad yourself.”

“Careful, someone might think you do.”

“You someone?”

“Maybe,” Eric said with a wink. They had migrated away from the bar and were crowded in the back corner, drowned out by crappy music and the click of pool cues.

“Maybe that wouldn’t be so terrible.”

“Fuck you!” Eric said, punctuated with an explosive laugh and a soft punch to Dean’s shoulder. “I’m a fantastic kisser.”

“Is that so? No customer complaints?”

“You’re crass,” Eric said and took a second to contemplate, “and beautiful.”

“Heard that one before.” Eric turned to face him more fully, his eyes alight with something that buried itself deep in Dean’s chest and began burning. He curled away, shoving his hands into his pockets.

“I mean it,” Eric said, not shying away in the least despite Dean’s posture. He raised his eyebrow instead.

“I’m fucking relaxed,” Dean muttered in response, his fingers tapping against theglass.

“I believe you.” Eric reached over and took his bottle. “Can I?” He asked, catching Dean’s eye. That small burning was producing too much smoke, choking his throat and catching in his mouth, the taste of ash on his tongue.

“What?” Too used to ‘take,’ and ‘more,’ and ‘anything you want’s to process a simple ‘can.’

“Let it be said I am a gentleman,” then, quieter: “Now, can I?” Dean wiped a hand over his mouth and looked away until Eric’s fingers, light on his chin, maneuvered him back.

“Dean.”

“Just-“ Dean said and before he knew it, he was nodding, just rocking gently into this practically stranger’s- a fucking handsome stranger- hands. Eric spread his palm against his right cheek and leaned in, lips torn and rough against his own. They scraped together but somehow, someway, it was gentle, turning the rest of the world into background noise. Eric pressed firm and lovely, mouth softening on Dean’s own and shit- he was a good kisser. Dean pulled back after a minute and slumped against the wall. Eric watched him silently as though waiting for something, to get punched or bolt, Dean wasn’t really sure.

“Okay,” Dean said eventually, fingers touching his lips lightly.

“Okay?” Eric mimicked and there was that damn eyebrow.

“Yeah, okay, asshole,” Dean muttered, but there wasn’t a trace of malice to his voice. “Maybe I do.” Eric laughed again.

“Maybe?” Dean just grabbed the edge of his shirt and pulled him over.

#stanford era dean #dean winchester #spn fic #dean x oc #t writes

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