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lexiecarver · 6 years

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SPN Writing Challenge/ @roxy-davenport vs. @chuckshvrley

Prompt: jack-o-lantern

Pairing: Crowley x child!reader

Word Count: 1,943

Tags: Crowley angst and fluff

Warnings: Um… none aside from the reader’s parents dying in the very beginning but otherwise, it’s a very fluffy Crowley story. The reader is nine-years-old.

A/N: This was written for the last challenge by @spnwritingchallenge.I am sorry to see this monthly challenge go but I loved taking part in it every month and I wish you guys only the best. xoxo -Lexie Also on AO3

Fear was running rampant through your system. You could hear your own quickening heartbeat. Adrenalin was the only reason you were able to move. Everything around you faded out and all you could hear were your parents’ screams.

“Run,” your mother said.

And you did run, right into the closet only taking one small detour to grab a few essentials. You locked yourself in the closet and hoped this would work. A few minutes ago, you were all sitting down to a nice family dinner and then “they” barged in. They had strange knives and weapons. They said your parents did horrible things and they were here for revenge. Maybe they did do things but they were still your parents after all. One of the men was clearly possessed, at least from what your mother taught you of ghosts. No one stood a chance against what you assumed to be hunters, especially ghost- fueled ones. Why hadn’t your mother taught you how to fight back when hunters break in?

You shivered in the closet. Screams were echoing in the hallway behind you. They would find you any minute. You hurriedly put all the ingredients together cutting yourself a little. Blood spells were the most powerful at least that’s what your mother told you. You could hear footsteps approaching the small closet. You screamed, worried that there just wasn’t enough time. The men were talking to you. One of them had his hand on the doorknob. You cowered expecting to meet the same fate as your parents when suddenly you ended up in a strange room.

You appeared in the room still screaming and cowering. It was quite a sight to behold. The floor was cold and on first inspection made of stone. There were lots of people all around you, looking at you. It made you feel suffocated almost. The spell had to have worked since this clearly wasn’t your home anymore. This was what hell looked like? Where was the fire? The brimstone? You were utterly confused.

Suddenly one by one everyone in the room changed their eye color to completely black or red depending on their status. Your dad had black eyes. He explained to you a little about demons. He told you he was a freelancer and didn’t serve any King. You gulped now as you looked into their eyes. There was a big chair, a throne really in the front of the room. The man sitting on it looking confused yet intrigued. Maybe teleporting to Hell wasn’t such a great idea?

“Would someone like to tell me how a nine-year-old child teleports to Hell?

“All the safeguards are in place, sir.”

“Are they now? Then how did she get here!?”

“Magic,” you answered in a scared squeaky voice.

Crowley narrowed his eyes and looked you up and down not quite believing your story.

“There is an old advanced ritual to teleport here, sir.”

“I am quite aware of that but I am sure you are all aware that if it’s so bloody easy to get in here, my dear mother might come here as well.”

There were several hushed whispers and gasps.

“I suggest you fix the problem. NOW.”

“Of course, sir.”

Crowley slowly turned his attention back to you.

“Witchcraft…hmm. Well, aren’t you a very special little girl.”

You took your strange knife out of your pocket. Your mother told you it was special and it would protect you from a lot of powerful beings. It looked strange and had weird symbols on it. The second you pulled it out Crowley squinted, completely confused about how a nine-year got hold of a demon knife.

“Who the hell is this kid?”

You were terrified with these men all around you but your mother always told you that you were more powerful than anyone knew and all you had to do was believe it. So the look in your eyes was one of fury masking all fear. The demons around you were actually quite shocked. A demon moved out of the corner of your eye and the knife flew out of your hands and into the air killing him. The knife then returned back to your hand.

“My parents were killed in front of me by hunters so you best back off.”

Crowley smirked at the tough girl routine in a girl your age. You had real power, raw potential, and an anger that rivaled his own. You would make a fine princess of Hell, a true heir. You were nothing like Amara; a brat that grew up so fast he couldn’t build a bloody connection. No, you were different, malleable and pleasantly dark. Your parents were killed by hunters? How intriguing. He had to know more about you. He didn’t like the demon that you killed anyway so you actually did him a favor.

“I didn’t tell you to start attacking the girl. I’m the King but you all think you can make up the bloody rules as you go along?”

You stared back at him throwing your shoulders back and standing up straighter.

“But sir, she killed-.”

“I never instructed anyone to harm her. Do try and keep up. He acted of his own free-will, thus endangering himself. Period. EVERYONE GET OUT, NOW!”

Everyone ran away hurriedly not wanting to anger the King any more than he already was. He was sure there would be talk around the demonic water cooler so to speak. He was in the middle of a meeting when suddenly a child shows up, kills one of his minions and all Crowley does is kick everyone out. Damn, he could smell a rebellion on his hands. He’d have to kill a bunch of demons later.

“You are quite the nine-year-old child.”

“I’m nine going on 10, demon.”

“Tsk, tsk, dear. Respect your elders. I’m the King of Hell, Crowley.”

“The King… of Hell.”

You weren’t expecting that though you should have, with a throne in front of you. Of course, he’s the King. You gulped audibly. Getting on his bad side wasn’t a good idea even with your powers. You curtseyed like you saw in the movies.

“Nice to meet you, Crowley. Can I call you Crowley?”

“Of course, dear. It’s nice to see that some youth are still taught manners.”

“I’m Y/N.”

“That’s a beautiful name for a captivating young lady such as yourself.”

Crowley didn’t want to spook you. You had lowered your knife and you relaxed your stance a bit. You were even talking to him. All good signs. He was making you feel safe.

“How did you get here, little lamb?”

“A spell. My parents… two hunters got them. I hid and did a spell and wham.”

“So you teleported yourself here? As my demon said before, that’s upper- level magic, dear.”

“My mom was a witch. I learned the craft from her when I was five. My dad’s a demon. Black-eyed.”

Crowley smirked at your classification of his minions.

“He was a freelancer.” You said answering Crowley’s unasked question.

You were powerful indeed if you could predict his line of questioning. He couldn’t mess up here. He had to get you on his side. He put his hands up and slowly left his throne. Your eyes widened in fear and you clutched the knife. He slowly inched over to you, making his movement slow and fluid. When he was in front of you, there was no masking the fear and some tears ran down your cheeks. He smiled a smile that never reached his eyes. He knew what it was to be an orphan after all. He wiped the tears away and you collapsed in his arms dropping your knife. Crowley was a bit taken aback, not used to feeling emotions. Before he knew it he hugged you close to him. You cried for everything that had happened and the ramifications of what it would mean going forward. Crowley let you cry. He wished it wasn’t his favorite suit but so be it. That’s why he kept making demon tailors. After a long time, he looked in your eyes and spoke to you softly.

“You’re safe here with me. I will keep you safe, little lamb. I will teach you how to control your powers. You can be the Princess of Hell. Would you like that?”

You were so overcome with everything that had happened that you could only manage a slow nod of your head. You took a deep breath closed your eyes and steadied yourself before you spoke again.

“I would like that very much but…there’s something I need to do first. I know you can protect me. My mom was right to tell me to go to the hell if anything happened. But those hunters… one of them was possessed, I think. I don’t want to have to look over my shoulder. I want the ghost to go away. It’s Halloween and…. can we…. Can we go pumpkin picking?”

“I’d love to.”

Crowley snapped his fingers and a demon appeared.

“Yes, sir?”

“The mansion – make it child-friendly, please.”

“Of course, sir.”

The demon bowed respectfully and left in a hurry. Crowley looked down at you and offered you his hand teleporting you both to the pumpkin fields. He had no idea what you saw when you looked at the pumpkins. To him, they all looked the same but to you each one was different; some had leaves, some had minor imperfections and some were huge while others small. You picked the biggest one that had leaves on it proudly presenting it to your adopted father. Your adopted father, the King of Hell. That fact alone left you speechless and beyond happy. No one would dare hurt you again. He had an inkling why you wanted to come here and he knew that he had to let you do. Crowley proudly held the pumpkin for you, taking you both back to his opulent chambers. He placed the pumpkin in front of you handing you your demon knife, choosing in this moment, to trust you. You happily carved the pumpkin alongside Crowley who gave you tips on how to create the most terrifying jack-o-lantern. He occasionally read your mind to see that he had indeed already won you over.

“I’m finished. Crowley, can you teleport us up top? I need to place this by a window.”

“Of course, dear.”

Crowley placed you in an elegant hotel room. He carried your jack-o-lantern gently over to the window and lit the candle. You ran over to turn the lights off, watching the light from the candle eerily flicker across the room. You stared out the window lost in thought about your future and what had happened, not paying any attention to the people outside in their Halloween costumes.

Suddenly a shadow enveloped the room blocking the light from the candle and you looked up to see the two hunters. Crowley could see your fear and nearly growled at the two men. The possessed hunter smiled until he noticed the jack-o-lantern in the window. As in the lore of Halloween, the spirit was afraid of it and promptly ran away. The other hunter just laughed at the jack-o-lantern, inching closer to the hotel room. That is until he saw Crowley step out from behind you to grab your little hand. He wasn’t going to go up against the King of Hell. He turned to leave but before his feet hit the pavement, Crowley snapped his fingers, killing him on the spot.

“No living in fear anymore, dear.”

“No fear. Let’s go home.” you said, taking his hand.

#crowley #crowley fanfic #crowley fanfiction #crowley x reader #crowley angst #crowley fluff

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roxy-davenport · 8 years

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The Scarecrow

@spnwritingchallenge @roxy-davenport vs. @royalrowena Prompt: Scarecrow and Rituals Pairing: General

Word Count: 1, 389 A/N: I in no way condone underage drinking however I’m writing a story and it fit the story. Canon violence is mentioned briefly. No smut; sorry guys. *shrugs*. This was written for two challenges. The first one is as a pitch hitter for the @spnwritingchallenge with the prompt, scarecrow. And the second is @the-mrs-dean-winchester’s ABC’s of Autumn Challenge with the prompt, R for Rituals.

Also on A03

“A scarecrow, Sammy? Seriously?”

“Of all the things we hunted, that’s the thing that sounds weird? What about Jefferson Starships?”

“OK… so a scarecrow comes alive and kills people?”

“Yeah, basically.”

“OK and…?” Dean asked as he drove up to the cornfield.

“Well, the legend goes that this guy, Tommy loved this girl, Anne. Total Romeo and Juliet. He was a farmer’s kid and well, she was a banker’s daughter. Totally different walks of life but they loved each other. High school kids teased him mercilessly and then hung him up right by a scarecrow naked. They thought they would teach him a lesson to keep his hands off her. It was supposed to be embarrassing for him and they’d cut him down in the morning but something went wrong and he died facing the scarecrow. Rumor has it that while he was hanging up there he did some sort of blood ritual cursing the townsfolk and the high school in particular. The legend is that he returns on the anniversary of his death searching for a woman that looks like his lost love, his Anne.”

Dean parked Baby and looked over at Sam.

“And where is this Anne?”

“He’s been doing this for a while Dean. We really have to stop him. She moved away after what happened to him.”

“OK, so it’s a spirit.”

“Yeah, so let’s get the salt and the iron out of the car.”

“What about burning the bones.”

“Tommy was cremated. We’ll have to burn the scarecrow instead.

Sam and Dean both got out of the car and walked over to the trunk rummaging through their weapons when a loud scream echoed through the cornfield. The sound seemed to be coming from the opposite side, a long way off. Dean stepped back and his feet crunched on something. He stooped down to pick it up looking at the beer can.

“Kids? Miller Lite, really?”

“Dean.”

Sam moved his head in the direction of some of your friends who were making out.

“Screams and making out. What the hell, Sammy?”

“How old do these kids look to you?”

"High school.”

“Exactly and there’s only one high school around here.”

“The same one Tommy went to, right? And they’re coming here on his anniversary?”

“Yeah basically. Shit.”

Sam and Dean slammed the trunk down and glared at the kids. The kids took one look at the boys and the weapons and ran off. Dean shook his head before running through the entire corn maze.

“David, why are you always so grabby? You’ll get a taste when I’ve taken a sip.”

“The beer was for all of us, Arlene.”

“And how many did you have before this?”

“Guys, I don’t think this is such a good idea.”

“What a surprise. Captain Killjoy isn’t on board. Big surprise.”

“We’re alone in the middle of a cornfield because of a ghost story.”

“Someone’s scared.”

“Yeah and you should be too. Ghosts exist. It was stupid to come here. “

“I knew you couldn’t hang with the cool kids. It’s OK. You just moved here. You’re not a towny, so whatever. You’ll never be one of us.”

You bunched your hands into fists.

“Fine.”

“Oh, look at Y/N.”

Arlene laughed as David kept trying to get the beer away from her. He soon started to chase her around the cornfield.

You sat on a large rock bored, alone, scared and upset. This was the fourth school you moved to in two years. You were doing fine in the last one. If your father didn’t hunt, you would be able to have a normal life. You heard giggles and whispers from the others but from your vantage point, all you saw was corn. You were kicking around the dirt at your feet when you heard a scream from straight ahead of you. It was a loud blood-curdling scream that seemed to go on forever.

You leapt off the rock, adrenalin coursing through you. You stuck your head out and saw movement ahead of you. You had come with a group of your “friends” but everyone was so spaced out and not as stupid as you. Who runs towards screaming? Usually one would runs away from whatever is causing the screaming. You were running towards the sound and saw a scarecrow in front of Arlene. David was on the ground skinned. You were trying your best not to throw up right then and there. It was summer but you were freezing as you approached. You reached your hand out nervously touching the scarecrow. It couldn’t possibly be real, right? Your fingers touched straw. It sure felt real. You slowly tried to step back but the scarecrow pushed you clear across the cornfield. You landed with a thud and a whimper.

“Arlene?” You said meekly.

The scarecrow had its hand on Arlene’s throat when it suddenly turned to you. It seemed to recognize your voice. The scarecrow tilted its head before it snapped Arlene’s neck throwing her body to the ground as it walked over to you.

Two men in plaid came running up behind you screaming “run.” But you were frozen in a strange deadlock with the scarecrow. It flickered for a second and disappeared. Maybe the men in plaid had scared it. A second later it appeared directly in front of you. Your eyes were as big as saucers as you stared at its strangely human eyes. Dean charged forward, stabbing it with an iron knife. The scarecrow flickered and dissipated with a growl.

You looked down to try and collect yourself. Your father never let you go on hunts and you could see why. This was a lot scarier than you had imagined but he helped people like these men in plaid. Helped people like you. Maybe hunting wasn’t all that bad after all. You slowly looked up and saw a hand in front of your face. You pulled back and looked all the way up into gorgeous hazel-green eyes. You let the man pull you to your feet. You dusted off your clothes and tried to avoid looking up into their eyes, so they wouldn't see you blush.

“I’m Dean and this is my brother, Sam. We need to get you out of here. NOW”

Dean didn’t wait for you to say anything, He just grabbed your hand and started running towards the car. The scarecrow appeared directly in front of him making Dean fall and drop your hand. The scarecrow grabbed your hand to stop you from falling.

“Anne?” It said in a strained howling voice.

“No. I’m Y/N.”

Sam took the opportunity to sneak up behind the scarecrow, whose attention was fully on you until Sam threw the match. The scarecrow shrieked and tried to lash out at Sam and Dean. Dean pulled your hand away and started to pull you quickly back to the car. Your “friends” all ran out of the cornfield and back to their cars when they saw the fire. Sam stayed to make sure the scarecrow burned completely. He wanted the curse to end today.

Dean released your wrist when you got to the car. He put his hand on the back of his neck waiting for Sammy who was better at this stuff. He had no idea what to tell a high-school girl much less a civilian. “Uh… fucked up shit exists. Deal with it, kid,” didn’t seem like a smart thing to say so he remained quiet.

“It’s dead. It won’t harm anyone else. Sam stated confidently.

“What was that?”

“It’s better you don’t ask that.” Dean said gruffly.

“Oh hell no. You don’t get to do that. I saw two people die and I think the scarecrow wanted to make out with me or something so no.

“It thought you were its girlfriend.”

“How old is this ghost?”

Dean squinted his eyes at you. He exchanged a look with Sam. You rolled your eyes.

“My dad’s a hunter. I don’t plan on being one, don’t worry. Fighting ain’t my thing but I would love me some truth, boys.”

You opened the passenger door and got into Baby.

“You can tell me on the way home.”

Dean smirked at you before getting into the car.

“You got it, kiddo.”

And that was the day you went the Winchesters.

Tagging

Forever Tag List: @loveitsallineed, @killerofthesouth, @charliebradbury1104, @chaos-and-the-calm67, @chelsea072498, @everyday-supernatural-af, @kalliravenne, @toogardenenthusiast

Dean and sam peeps: @i-dont-understand-how-to-write, @lucifer-in-leather, @jotink78, @saving-things-hunting-family, @sunriserose1023, @jencharlan, @trenchcoat-and-bees, @gadreelsforbiddenfruit, @pada-ackles-reads, @sleep-silent-angel, @zanthiasplace, @winchesterfiesta, @mamaimpala, @myarchangelgabriel, @gimmethepieandnogetshurt, @spnsimpleman, @bkwrm523, @eyes-of-a-disney-princess, @sams-little-toy, @tia58, @fandom-book-nerd, @beachy2014, @feelmyroarrrr, @thebunkerismyhome, @skybinx-blog, @fangirling-instead-of-working, @noisilyyoungpuppy, @ackleslaugh, @shortandlongstories, @the-morning-star-falls, @iridianuniverse, @olitzisbae, @myfand0msandm0re, @lilyoflothlorien, @ferferelli, @prettyxwickedxthings, @samanddeanwinchester67, @kittenofdoomage, @meganwinchester1999, @fandommaniacx, @amaranthinecastiel, @sis-tafics, @thewinchestielboys, @i-never-said-a-pilot, @samtomydeanwincheter, @thegleegeneration, @growleytria, @manawhaat, @mrsjohnsmith, @walkingencyclopediaoffandom, @deerlululucy, @deandoesthingstome, @gryffindorable713, @ellen-reincarnated1967, @crzcorgi, @charliesbackbitches, @beriala, @castielspahdehrah, @matteson-crazed, @ezauraemmaline, @itsemmyb, @bowtiesandapplepie, @sammit-janet, @thinkwritexpress, @vintagevalentinexx

Pondies: @aprofoundbondwithdean, @dr-dean, @thing-you-do-with-that-thing, @nichelle-my-belle, @leatherwhiskeycoffeeplaid, @torn-and-frayed, @thegreatficmaster, @blushingsamgirl, @notnaturalanahi, @salvachester, @whispersandwhiskerburn, @helvonasche, @lipstickandwhiskey, @impaladancer, @deathtonormalcy56, @samsgoddess, @imagineteamfreewill, @frenchybell, @scorpiongirl1, @for-the-love-of-dean, @mysupernaturalfics, @deandoesthingstome, @cici0507, @supermoonpanda, @fiveleaf, @deansleather, @curliesallovertheplace, @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname, @waywardjoy, @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki, @mrswhozeewhatsis, @imadeangirl-butimsamcurious, @kayteonline, @supernatural-jackles, @wevegotworktodo, @ilovedean-spn2, @babypieandwhiskey, @quiddy-writes, @jpadjackles, @wi-deangirl77, @saxxxology, @spectaculacular-sammy, @captain-princess-rose, @impala-dreamer

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plaidstiel-wormstache · 8 years

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The Sheriff Shot Me...

This is for @spnfanficpond the Pond Writing Challenge Apologies for the title ... I had NO CLUE what to call it.

Word Count: 4288 Quote: Why do the cops never find things as funny as we do? Characters: Dean, Sam, August, (OFC what’s the F stand for?), Jody and Donna Warnings: Death, Family dying, supernatural violence, guilt... i think that’s all. Summary: Dean and Sam check out a possible case. Will they find a monster? Or will they find something more?

Shout out, love and so much respect for my wonderful BETA: @whispersandwhiskerburn I appreciate every second you put into my work.

Tags below the line - no idea if you guys are forever’s, if you want off let me know, either way please get in touch. Hope you enjoy...

Breaking News as we come on the air tonight. In the small town of Bird City, Kansas, every neighborhood pet has disappeared. Police reports indicate a wild animal snatching them from their own backyards. But without pets, will this beast move on to larger prey? Stay tuned as we-- Dean muted the TV and looked over at Sammy, raising an eyebrow. Sam shrugged and closed the lid of his laptop, “Yeah. Sounds like it could be our thing. At least it’s close.”

I was at my Aunt and Uncle’s place, having moved in while I found my feet after a nasty break-up. The tiny town provided next to no opportunities to find a job, or a lick of privacy, so I’d spent most of the time hiding upstairs in their guest room trying to get away from the world. I heard a noise downstairs and thought my dead-beat cousin had smashed something. I went down to investigate, but when I rounded the banister, I saw my uncle and cousin lying on the floor, blood soaking into the carpet around them. My aunt was crouched between them, feasting on my uncle. Her head snapped up at my gasp, and she launched herself at me, so fast I didn’t have a chance to move before she was on me. I tried to fight, but she was too strong, and when she ripped the skin from my neck… I knew. I was done. But my flight-or-fight instinct was still in control, and I screamed, my hands pushing against her once-frail but now strong body ineffectively. My screams became gurgles as I felt my grip on life slip away. A final darkness enveloped me, a cold settling in my bones. My eyes closed against the world.

***

Sam and Dean had been staking out the lay of the tiny neighborhood when they heard screams. They ran hard, their feet smacking on the pavement. Lockpicking be damned, they crashed through the door. There was our rugaru, buried in a girl’s neck. The girl was still pink, fresh, possibly even alive. Dean raced at her, yanking the monster off by the hair. He swung her towards the wall and left her for Sam. Dean heard the blowtorch followed by the earsplitting screams, but he was focused on the girl. He pulled her into his arms, looking for a clean bit of neck to feel for a pulse. There wasn’t one, her skin was torn and tattered. Dean grabbed her wrist, holding two fingers against it. Nothing. He moved up her arm to the crook in her elbow. Still nothing. He lowered an ear to her lips. Not even a desperate gurgle. Dean laid her head down carefully, looking up as Sam’s footsteps fell heavy behind him, Dean shook his head at his raised eyebrow. Sam’s shoulders dropped. “We’ve got another two in here.” He muttered nodding over his shoulder. Dean looked past him and sure enough there were two more bodies. Dean heaved a sigh and picked up the girl; he’d take her outside with the rest of her family and Sammy and him would give them a hunter’s burial. Cover up any sign of something supernatural. “I’m so sorry.” Dean whispered as he placed her down in the grass. Sam held the teen’s head as he put him down next to the girl. They both went back for the older man. Once the family were at rest, Dean went back to Baby to get the gas. He splashed it over their bodies, Sam had turned away; it bothered him more than he admitted when they didn’t actually save anyone. Dean wasn’t concentrating on the bodies; seeing it once was enough for anyone. Sam wasn’t the only one who was hating the job right now. Just as Dean ditched the canister and was about to light the match the girl took a large gasp through a throat that was unmarred despite the fact that it had been shredded a few minutes ago. Sam and Dean both jumped into action.

***

I sat bolt upright, gasping for air, tasting the foul scent of gas fumes. It burnt, but I couldn’t get enough air into my lungs. I kept gulping down air. What had just happened? I was coming down the stairs and now I was waking up on the grass. Then it was a blur. Large hands grabbing me, the cold metal of a knife at my throat, gruff voices yelling at me, screaming for answers. My eyes were wide as I looked between them both. Where had they come from? My back slammed against the side of the house, my lungs heaved with the impact. One slammed their fist against the wall at my head. I focussed on him. “WHO ARE YOU?” The shorter one roared. I swallowed the thick lump in my throat. “I’m- I’m- Me. I’m Auggie,” I stuttered out finally. “Do you have any cravings? Meat?” The taller one asked over the shorter ones shoulder. The shorter one had the knife at my throat. His fist still by my ear. “I’m a vegetarian.” I answered, confused. The tall strangers shared a baffled look. The knife dropped from my neck, the hand at my wrist loosened. “What- Why…” I couldn’t process what I wanted to ask first. “Who are you?” I asked, looking between them both. I rubbed at my neck, the skin itching, but otherwise feeling fine. I knew something was off, but I couldn’t remember what. The smaller one’s eyes followed my hand. “I’m Sam, this is my brother Dean.” The taller one said, nodding at the other, “Do you remember what happened? How did you survive?” He asked. Dean looked suspicious of me, his posture told me he was still on guard for some kind of danger, and I got the impression he was worried about me. “What happened? My aunt....” I said, looking around the yard. My eyes struggled to comprehend what was in front of me: my cousin and uncle were on the manicured lawn, their skin pale, eyes closed. Their stomachs were torn open and their innards were now on the outside or gone. The smell of cooked meat and gasoline barely outweighed the heavy scent of blood in the air. I felt the blood drain from my face as my knees buckled. Sam caught my arm and guided me to the back step. “Your aunt?” Dean asked, sitting next to me, prodding me for what I was about to say. “Your mother’s or father’s, sister?” Sam asked from where he was crouched in front of me. “What?” I asked, pushing my hair back off my face. The boys shared a look and then Dean took a large breath in, bringing my attention back to him. “Is your Aunt a blood relative?” Dean asked. My brow furrowed, Why were they so interested in my family tree? “No. I’m adopted.” I answered, they both sighed in relief. “What’s going on?” Panic was evident in my wavering voice, my breathing picked up again. “Who are you both?” I demanded. “This is gonna sound crazy, but…” Sam said, holding his hands up in a non-threatening manner. The boys explained what had happened to my aunt, how they were concerned I was carrying the gene, giving me an insight into their world, their jobs. I slumped further down the step, my shoulders almost resting on my knees when they finished. They had been my only family left. Sam touched my shoulder gently. “You ok?” He asked. The question triggered my own, I sat up, the thought pulsing through me. “Why didn’t I die before?” I looked from one to the other, catching their wary glance. “Do you know anyone called Prometheus?” Dean asked, his eyebrows high on his forehead, not expecting much of an answer. “Like… Alien?” This whole scenario was a joke. I was bound to wake up from this horrible dream any second, right? “No, Dean, it’s not like when we met him. There’s no vulture and she has no clue what’s going on. This is more like Captain Jack Harkness from Doctor Who.” Sam suggested, Dean tilted his head, clearly not getting the reference. “And you two are the professionals in this situation...” I shook my head, sarcasm rolling out of my every pore.

***

“August!” Dean hollered down the corridor of the bunker. It was training time. My least favourite thing to do. In the six months since I moved in with the Winchesters, I’d discovered I had a talent for lore... but my body was slow to memorize the moves Dean was trying to teach me. I slammed my door and stormed down the hall towards him. “It’s Auggie. Repeat after me: Augg--ie.” I poked him hard in the chest to emphasize each syllable. He just rolled his eyes and pushed the garage door further open. Sam and Dean had cleared the room out and set up dolls, mats, weapons. Everything I needed to transform my innocent and slight frame to a tough and fast machine. Sam was standing in the middle of one of the mats. This is what I hated. It was just a chance for the boys to throw me around, I was sure of it. “Pick a blade.” Dean instructed, I furrowed my brow and looked back at him. “And remember to keep your guard up this time, ok?” “I don’t want to hurt Sam!” I said sarcastically. Knowing full well I couldn’t do him any damage. “Then don’t and be weaponless!” Sam chided from across the room, he flashed me a brilliant smile before pulling a blunt stake from behind his back. I narrowed my glare and picked up the angel blade. Joining him on the mat, I kept my blade up and my eyes on the taller hunter as Dean began to explain the creature Sam was meant to be. Sounded like a demon which meant my weapon of choice was a good one.

Sam began to circle me and I stood my ground. The next pass round, I lunged at his front, but he easily blocked my arm, pushing it away. I took advantage of my smaller stature, ducking under his outstretched arm and and swinging my leg at the back of his knee. To my surprise, it worked; he fell, his stake flying out of his hand. I was too busy being impressed with myself to catch his next movement. I found myself on my back, blade gone. I rolled and clambered away from him, towards the stake. I managed to grab it, stand, and spin, rushing to meet Sam’s big meaty frame. I was stopped in my tracks inches from collision. A warm, wet, feeling began to trickle over my stomach. Sam’s eyes went wide. I looked down in confusion to find his hand at my stomach, the shiny metal handle of my angel blade visible between his fingers. He’d impaled me. He pulled the blade out quickly, and Dean caught me as I crumpled, my legs turning to jelly. “I’m sorry Auggie.” Sam breathed, watching as Dean fell to his knees with my dead-weight. I opened my mouth to swear at him, but instead I spluttered blood over myself. I choked and gargled on my own blood. Drowning in it.

I gasped as I sat upright, the boys kneeling across from me. “You bastard.” I spat at Sam, wiping the already drying blood off my chin. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think you were going to launch at me,” he said in self-defense. Dean chuckled at his tone as he helped me stand up. I looked down at my top, picking at the hole in it. Even if it wasn’t holey, I wouldn’t’ve been able to wash this amount of blood out. “You owe me a shirt,” I reprimanded, my face pouting. Sam reached out to me, bringing me into an apologetic hug. “I’m sorry for killing you,” he offered. As he squeezed me tighter, I realized I still had the stake in my hand. I brought it up behind his back, Dean winking as he saw my movement. I poked Sam between the shoulder blades. “I’m not.” I gave him a big shit-eating grin. He replied with his sassy bitch-face. “Keep your guard up next time!” I echoed the advice the boys were so fond of giving me.

***

“Bullshit!” I screamed accusingly across the table at Dean. His phone rang just in time to save him. “Detective Mercury,” he answered, smiling. He knew I’d just won the game, but he wasn’t going to give me the satisfaction of his concession till he got off the call. I looked over at Sam who was laughing at my childish enthusiasm. I’d been with the boys almost two years, during which time I’d become a good hunter; my ability to evade death was a real plus. The boys still fussed over me if I ‘died’, and if I wasn’t ‘dying’ they were scolding me like I was their little sister. They had truly become my brothers after I lost my family the day I met them. “Donna?” Dean’s smile faded, his voice turning worried. Sam’s head snapped around to face Dean, gaze narrowed. I put my cards down, recognizing their concern. “Hang on, Sam’s here.” Dean took the phone away from his ear and pushed speaker, placing it on the table between them. “Donna? What’s up?” Sam asked. “Oh, hiya, Sam.” She said, with an accent from the north, “So, seems here we got a problem. Jody’s with me. Thought we could handle it ourselves but…” She said, but another woman in the background interrupted. “We did have it, till it MULTIPLIED!” I couldn’t place her accent, but I smiled at the attitude in her voice. I listened to the ladies explain the case in detail. Being two sheriffs they’d been able to track the monster a fair way, until it decided to split into two. And that was a new one for even for you and the boys. “Donna?” Dean interrupted a small argument the women were having on the other end of the line about the size of the “beastie”. “Sorry, Deano, what’s it?” She asked, bringing her attention back to the situation at hand. “We’re on our way, ok?” He informed them. She breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “Be safe!” Sam instructed. “Always am, boys!” She replied before hanging up. Dean tucked the phone back into his pocket as he stood from the table. “I’ll see what I can get from the street cameras.” Sam answered, standing to follow Dean out. “Bull. Shit!” I chimed, refusing to move from the table. Dean turned, a grin returning to his face. He shrugged. I flipped the four cards he’d put down. He’d claimed four aces, but I had one in my hand. The smile slid off my face, my jaw set into an angry pout. “Bullshit.” I whispered, smacking the cards down on the table I stormed out, past them. “Told her that pack was a mix and match.” Dean told Sam, raising a mischievous eyebrow. Sam rolled his eyes, he knew his older brother had probably planted another ace in just to get a rise from Auggie.

***

The two sheriffs were standing on the driveway, watching us pull up. They were roughly the same height, the one in the khaki uniform had short, black hair, a watchful glare in her eyes and a no-nonsense mothering look aimed at the two men who towered over her. The other wore a blue uniform, with longer blonde hair tied back in a low ponytail, a smile playing at her lips and eyes and the kind of bouncy optimism that I hardly ever saw in this business practically pouring off of her. The boys jumped out of the impala and I hung back as they paired off for hugs and then switched. Afterwards Dean brought me forward for introductions. “Donna, Jodie, this is Auggie.” He motioned between us, Jodie gripped my hand tight, staring into my soul as if she was trying to scope out if I were a good enough to be with the boys. Donna pulled me into a tight hug, her strength and welcome overwhelming. “Hiya, you a hunter too?” She whispered, looking around dramatically. I caught Jody’s eye roll. I smiled and gave a half nod. “Thanks to these two!” I said, slapping Sam’s stomach with the back of my hand, he wheezed in surprise. Dean chuckled. “We can do stories later.” Jodie cut in, “Got any info on what the hell this thing is?” She said, looking to Sam for an explanation.

***

“Donna!” Jody screamed. Her voice echoed through the old building as I rushed to get there in time. The halls of Togo Public School were dark as I ran along, glancing into each room as I followed the sound of the two women, tousling with the monster we’d separated and cornered. The school had been abandoned years ago and had the eery feel that often invaded old empty buildings. I prayed I wasn’t too late as the sounds grew louder. I rounded a corner, and practically ran into them. The large grey beast loomed over Donna, who had fallen to the ground. Her hands were supporting her weight, her knees up, her feet scrabbling to push her back away from the creature. Jody was struggling to reload her gun a few feet away, cursing as she dropped a round. Each of the claws on the beasts forelegs were a foot long, and the two legs it was standing on had looked better on Mr. Tumnus from Narnia. It’s face was like a dog’s - there was really no way to describe it, and no time to get a good look. It pulled its arm back, about to swing down to eviscerate the lady cop. In the split second I had, I made a choice and launched myself between them. Everything happened all at once. I kicked Donna further backwards, a deafening shot rang out, the claws came towards me, and then...everything went black.

There was a long silence. Jody was solid, gun in front, the barrel smoking slightly. Donna was sprawled at her feet. Both were frozen in place. The monster had fallen. But so had Auggie. Jody’s shot was perfect. A single silver bullet to the heart. Donna had shot at the beast as it had followed them both in, but she’d aimed for the left side out of instinct. The beast’s heart was in its stomach, or so said Sam’s research. Before Jody could stop herself, the trigger was pulled, their new friend’s head in the line of fire. Auggie’s head had snapped forward, her body toppling with the force of the bullet. But the bullet, at close range, had ripped through her skull and continued into the monster’s stomach. The creature had instantly shriveled, shrinking into a fetal form before collapsing to the ground in a pile of dust. Donna was the first to move. She pushed herself to her feet stumbled, then crawled towards Auggie’s body. Jody could see the blood pooling around her face from across the room. She knew what she’d done. She’d killed a woman the boys looked to as a younger sister. She’d killed family. Donna reached with shaking hands towards August’s body and rolled her over. She recoiled, collapsing back in shock and disgust. Auggie’s forehead was gone, instead it was splintered skin, folding over, the bullet had exploded out the front of her face. Jody had thawed now, picking Donna up, lifting her to her feet and turning her away from the hideous scene. She ushered her out the door. She could hear the boys running down the corridor above, their boots loud on the linoleum halls, then they began to clunk on the stairs. Jody left Donna leaning against the wall, then, shrugging out of her jacket, she went back into the room and placed it over Auggie’s face. The blood stuck to the soles of her shoes. She couldn’t see August’s face through her tears. “I’m so sorry.” She muttered quietly, before joining Donna at the door. The boys were hurrying down the hall towards them as Jody tried to think of what she could possibly say. “Didja get it?” Dean said as they slid to a stop in front of the two cops. Sam looked around. “Where’s Auggie?” He asked, concerned. Donna groaned, her knees buckling. Jody caught her, her own tears streaming down her cheeks. “I’m sorry.” She breathed. “I’m so sorry.” Her voice faltered, then trailed as she tried to explain. Dean’s brow furrowed as he looked past them. “She- she just appeared.” “She saved me.” Donna murmured, her voice thick with emotion. “I’d already pulled the trigger when…” Jodie tried to swallow the lump in her throat, but it wouldn’t budge. Sam’s brow was still furrowed, apparently confused. Dean took a deep breath. “It’s all my fault.” Donna sobbed.

“What’s all your fault?” I said, walking towards the door. My sleeve partially covering my eyes as I wiped off the blood. No one had noticed Donna had her gun still in hand. She spun on instinct, her reaction to a voice from someone she’d watched die. To be fair, it was the correct reaction in our line of work. She pulled the trigger before Dean or Sam could stop her, before I could explain. I flew backwards, the bullet lodging itself in my chest. I landed hard on the cracked linoleum, blood already pulsing from the wound. I took a gurgled breath and the room faded to black. That same damn black that I’d welcomed two years ago, and which had become so familiar to me ever since.

“DONNA!” Dean yelled, grabbing the gun off her. Sam rushed into the room and crouched over August’s, once again, lifeless body. He pushed his fingers against her neck and looked back at Dean, shaking his head. Dean shrugged. Jody shook off the adrenaline that had peaked again. “What the hell?” She said accusingly gesturing at Dean’s lack of reaction. “We probably should’ve told you before…August...well, she doesn’t stay dead.” Dean said, his hand still holding Donna’s as she tried to calm her breathing. The gun had been tossed aside. “...And you didn’t think this information might be useful for us to know?” Jodie said, her voice loud and shrill. She sounded like a mother scolding her children. “Now, Jody, listen-” Sam tried. “Listen? You listen, Winchester!” Jodie stalked around Dean so he and his brother were both in her eye line, “We’ve discussed this; you two keeping secrets. You’ve got to share information like this!”

“It’s not exactly casual conversation material,” Dean grumbled, his gruff voice cut through the many thoughts flashing through Jody’s mind. “Explain.” Donna demanded, ripping her hand from Dean’s and folding her arms across her chest, mirroring Jody’s anger. “Long story, too long for now,” Sam quickly added when Donna took a breath in to interrupt, “But none of us know why… she just … doesn’t die.” Sam tried to summarize. Donna and Jodie raised an eyebrow each, both unimpressed. “How many times has this happened?” Donna asked. “Uhh…” Sam said, scratching the back of his neck. “Four? Five?” Dean asked, looking to Sam, his fingers held out in front of him as if he’d been counting the memories, and a smile stretching across his face at the ridiculousness of the conversation. A loud noise came from the body on the floor and Jody and Donna jumped in surprise.

I rasped awake. A long indrawn breath. I puckered my lips and let out a low whistle in response to Donna’s earlier reaction, sitting up with a smile and throwing her a thumbs up. Dean began to chuckle. Sam threw him a bitch face, but it didn’t seem to stop him. The look on the girls’ faces was priceless. “Good aim!” I congratulated. “What the h-e-double hockey sticks is wrong with you people?” Donna exclaimed before storming away. “Nice.” Jody huffed at us, rolling her eyes and going after her friend. The boys came over to help me up. “Why do the cops never find things as funny as we do?” I said, chuckling as I scraped at the blood on my shirt while Dean tried to control his fits of laughter. Sam couldn’t help but join in.

***

“Sorry about before.” Donna said against my cheek as she pulled me into a fierce hug. “It’s alright. But if you don’t loosen up, you’re going to suffocate me!” I joked, breathless from the intensity with which she was squeezing. She instantly let go and shot me a fed-up look, which made me laugh, “don’t worry, I’d come right back.” You winked and that sent Dean and Sam into snickers again. “Take care of…” Jody had started, pulling me in for a hug, then realizing I didn’t need to be careful, “the boys.” She corrected. “Yea,” I smiled, pulling her back to arm’s length, “I will!” I promised. Dean started Baby with a roar. I climbed into the back and waved goodbye. Dean took off down the road, kicking up the gravel behind him. “They were lovely.” I said, shedding my bloodied jacket and unbuttoning my cotton shirt to reveal a, now red, undershirt. Sam snorted and turned back to look at me. “Even though they both shot you?” He asked. I stopped what I was doing and flipped him the bird with a sarcastic grin. “If you don’t turn around…” I threatened. “You’ll what?” He smiled; that big, dimpled, shit-eating, brotherly, smile. “I’ll strangle you with this shirt, and replace your eyes with the buttons.” I growled. He turned, chuckling. “Bullshit!” Dean chimed.

Thanks all, hope you liked it. Again thanks to Angel, words do not begin to describe how much I appreciate the time you put in to my work.

Tags: @loveitsallineed @percywinchester27 @chaos-and-the-calm67 @sdavid09 @frenchybell @blacktithe7 @i-like-your-assbutt @kristaparadowski

#pond writing challenge #spnfanficpond #spnwritingchallenge #whispersandwhiskerburn #to the rescue

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someoneoffthestreet · 8 years

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Maybe I’m A-Maized

SPN Writing Challenge | someoneoffthestreet vs butwritingishard prompt: corn maze pairings: Dean x Benny word count: 700 tags: human AU, fluff, hurt/comfort

This is not the worst thing in the world.

Benny repeated that, over and over, until they were almost a meditative chant. They cast an almost Zen-like calm, a cloud of numbness cast over his brain while wolfish panic nipped at the edges, seeking entry. His heart hammered and he tried to keep his breathing even as the well-trodden straw and fallen leaves crunched in time with his footsteps. A breeze rustled the stalks around them. Benny resolutely did not shudder.

If they bumped into a scarecrow, he wasn’t sure what he’d actually do.

Beside him, Dean, being not just a good friend but a best friend, was doing his level best not to laugh. “You could’ve said something,” he pointed out, failing to keep the smile from his voice.

“Shut up,” Benny mumbled. Somewhere in the maze came the shrieks of a group of girls, and Benny paused, closing his eyes.

“Sorry, I just don’t usually see you this way.” The fondness in Dean’s voice was calming to Benny’s nerves, but irritating to his somewhat wounded pride. “I mean, you are seriously freaked out right now.”

“Guess it was inevitable,” Benny grunted through gritted teeth. “Nobody’s this handsome without a few flaws.”

It said more than enough that Dean actually let him have that statement without comment.

Eventually, they came to a crossroads in the maze path. Benny took in the cornstalks branching in every-which-way, seemingly without end, and produced a small whine. Suddenly he wanted to just lie down and wait for one of the owners to come in and find him. Either that, or pick a direction and just run through the corn until he was out. He hunched in on himself a little and sighed shakily.

“This blows.”

“Hey, listen,” said Dean, circling around so he was standing in front of Benny now. “The fliers all said this place isn’t that big. I’m pretty sure that were standing in the middle of it right now. If you wanna go forward or go back, I’m with you, but we’ve gotta pick a direction.”

“Your inspiring speeches are terrible.”

Dean shrugged. “Hey: nobody’s this handsome without a few flaws.”

Benny actually laughed at that, although it was a breathy, truncated thing. They stood in silence for a few moments more, before Dean spoke up.

“If it makes you feel better…” And he kept his tone light, but Benny noticed the nervous shifting of his feet. “…you could, I dunno, hold my hand or something.”

The suggestion pierced through the panicked haze with arrow-like precision. Slowly, Benny lifted his head to look at Dean, who was looking right back with impenetrable casualness. Only a quiet nervousness behind his eyes betrayed anything.

Benny had to laugh again. He just had to. It came out of him almost painfully, but he laughed all the same.

“Really?” he laughed, almost delirious. “Of all the times, you pick- you pick now. Really? Really.”

His chuckles faded out, and Dean spoke up again.

“Maybe I always want to hold your hand,” he said, a little more vulnerable than he probably meant it because his eyes darted away. When Benny didn’t respond, Dean met his eyes again, his mouth quirking upwards a little with a hopeful smile. He extended his hand in a silent offer.

Benny considered his best friend’s hand for a long moment. And then took it. Dean’s smile grew, becoming luminous. Through the buzz of nerves still ravaging Benny’s senses, he felt a few butterflies hopping around as well.

“Come on, this way,” said Dean, tugging Benny along straight down the path.

“Whatever you say, chief.”

“C’mon, we’re halfway there.” As though unable to help himself, Dean started singing under his breath.

“Really, Dean?” Benny panted. “Bon Jovi?”

“Hey, shut up, man.”

“No judging, no judging.”

“Damn right. Say, when we get out of here, what do you think of maybe popping in Signs…?”

“Oh, God, no,” Benny groaned, and Dean started laughing.

Along the way, their fingers somehow ended up entwined. The panic did not leave, but Dean’s palm was warm and steady against Benny’s, and he breathed a little easier.

It really wasn’t the absolute worst thing in the world.

#spnwritingchallenge #butwritingishard #Dean Winchester #Benny Laffite #Dean x Benny #I write stuff #fanfiction #Supernatural

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rahullkohli · 8 years

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SPN Writing Challenge | stardustmisha vs @lux-tuli prompt: harvest moon pairings: dean/cas word count: 2,286 tags: this is literally just fluff notes: i wrote this while sick and i was really struggling with the prompt so it’s definitely not my best work, i really just wanted them to be cute

October 16, about 3am on some deserted country road in the American landscape. Lebanon, Kansas was still far ahead of them, and there was not a motel in sight. With eyes heavy and a tingle constantly at the back of his throat Dean struggled to keep his eyes on the road. Cas was asleep in the passenger seat on his side, Dean's leather jacket tugged neatly under his chin. About two hours ago Dean had held in at a gasstation to tank up on fuel for both the car and him, and he had slipped his jacket over Cas to make sure he wouldn't freeze as he was sitting there with his forehead resting against the window. Dean would clean it in the morning. After a Google search he had found that there should come a motel about two hours and thirty minutes down the road – thirty minutes to go by now – and there were no words for how much Dean looked forward to creep out of his jeans and catch some Zs.

The week had been spent in a crappy small town in Wisconsin, hunting down what they originally thought to be a mare that was terrorizing the men – it turned out to be a witch the men had treated badly during their high school years. What a cliché yeah, but if you were to ask Dean the guys had it coming. No one had asked, but he sure had made his opinion clear as water.

But it had been a hell of a fight when it all collided. Dean and Cas had to patch each other up good once the smoke had cleared, and Dean had to admit that his ribs were still sore and the cut down his cheek had him wish Cas still had some angel juice in him to fix it up with a quick touch. Still, he was just glad Cas hadn't taken on more heat than he had. Dean knew he was still adjusting to the fact that he had to actually wait for his injuries to heal the old school way.

They had just rolled out of a forest when Dean started swearing under his breath. A few quick thump thump thump made the car jump a little over the asphalt and that was it. With a swift swerve the Impala was stopped at the side of the road and Dean jumped out, pulse pounding and teeth gritted.

”Aww come on! What the hell is this?!” He fumed as he found the culprit to be a flat tire. This was just the icing of the cake that was this endless night.

”What's wrong, Dean?” Husky voiced and drowsy eyed Cas had appeared next to Dean at the side of the car. His hair was ragged up and he couldn't hold a yawn back. ”We got a flat. Of course we did. In the middle of nowhere, no spare tire – sure, why not?!” Dean growled and kicked the wheel in question before taking a few steps back, running a hand down his face. With a heavy sigh he looked to Cas who seemed, if possible, even more confused.

”I'm sorry, man. I was just really looking forward to sleeping in a bed tonight,” Dean apologized. Leaning his head back, looking up at the night sky a hollow laugh escaped him. ”Ah. Isn't this just perfect?!” A rock was kicked over across the pavement and the heavy boots were tightening a little more around Dean's feet. He had been wearing them for over twelve hours now.

”What time is it?” The question was croaked and the voice got Dean's attention right away. ”About... I don't know, man. Three or four, I think.” He pulled his phone out and it lit up his face, making him wince a little as the white light was cutting into his eyes through the dark. ”Three thirty,” he confirmed and shoved the phone back in his pocket. Quickly his eyes adjusted to the dark again. He was well over his thirty year mark, but seeing in the dark was came as naturally to him as to a wolf in the woods. In many ways Dean had the same predator instincts ingrained in him; that was how he had been shaped before he could read a book longer than fifty pages or reach the top shelf to get Sammy's favorite cup without having to stand on a chair.

”What – What are we gonna do now?” Cas asked and stepped closer. His shoulders were dragged to his ears and his hands were deep in the pockets of the old coat. Freezing was a new sensation to Cas as well. He was ages old, of course he knew about it, but being the victim of freezing so much your toes hurt and your face felt like it was going to crack open wasn't exactly regular angel territory. It wasn't that Cas didn't know about all of these human things that he was now learning to live with, it was more that he simply didn't consider these things to be something he needed to take precautions for.

Pinching the bridge of his nose between two fingers Dean gave a small shake of his head. ”I don't know... I don't know, we're not going anywhere tonight.” Scratching the back of his head his eyes fell on Cas' face. His eyes were troubled and wondering. ”I don't have a spare tire. Had to use that a month ago and haven't had the chance to get it fixed.” Mentally cursing himself. What a stupid thing of him. As someone who had lived in his car for the most of his life that should be the one thing he had down, but of course not. ”I can't exactly call Triple A. The best we can do is – I'm gonna call Sam,” he mumbled.

Next to him Cas was still looking slightly confused, and Dean put a gentle hand on his biceps. ”It's cool. You can go back to sleep,” Dean assured him, squeezing his arm softly. ”If Sam can lie on the seat and get some shut-eye so can you.” Lips rolled into his mouth and eyes squeezed to small lines Cas gave a silent nod of his head before he turned to return to the car. Dean walked a bit away to call his brother, having to try a couple of times before there was a pick-up on the other end. He was only mildly annoyed, but he got the message clearly.

As he walked back to the car Dean found that Cas hadn't found to the backseat for some sleep. No, he was leaning against the side of the car with Dean's jacket in hand and a couple of blankets. When Dean approached him Cas handed him the jacket before grabbing the blankets. ”I found these in the trunk,” he said, stating the obvious. ”I thought you were gonna go back to sleep?” Dean asked, eyebrows meeting across his nose. His eyes drifted to the blankets and then back to Cas' blues, remarkably clear even through the dark of the night.

That was when Dean realized how clear a night it was, and his sight searched to the full moon hanging over the woods they had put behind them. It was huge, bigger than he had seen it for a long time, and instead of the ghoulish white-grey it usually donned this night it was lathered in a full orange hugging it's curves and contours.

”I – I wanted to make sure you got some sleep yourself,” Cas told and unfolded one of the blankets so he could hand it to Dean in it's full size. It was accepted with a grunt and held as if he had never seen a blanket before and its purpose was a deep mystery. ”Nah, I'm not gonna sleep while we're hanging here at the side of the road.” He put the blanket on the hood of the car. It was still warm from the engine and he rest his freezing hands there for a minute. ”I'm not even” (A big yawn interrupted him) ”Not even tired,” he lied, knowing it was childish.

”Dean, you haven't slept for twenty four hours,” Cas objected, with the kindness of a mother softly objecting to her kid asking to stay up for the fireworks when their eyes are already red and strained. ”You need to rest.” The urgency in Cas' voice was clear. He definitely had found out what lack of sleep did to humans, had felt it on his own body, and it wasn't something he wanted anyone else to experience. And Dean appreciated the concern. It felt good to have someone care about him in that way. Usually it was Sam, but for two people in this godforsaken world to actually worry about him. It had to be a lucky streak.

”I'm alright, Cas. I'll just stay awake for a few hours and then Sam will come. You can just get in. You're freezing.” And Dean knew his own eyes had to be swimming with worry, because that came as natural to him as his worry for his brother. Because he wanted Cas' human experience to be better than his own had. He wanted Cas to have all the best from the human package.

”I'll keep you company,” Cas mumbled and unfolded his own blanket, making Dean chuckle and grab his hand, stopping him mid-motion. ”You don't have -” ”I know, Dean. I want to. It's gonna be a long time to wait, and -” He looked up at the sky, ”It's beautiful. I don't mind staying up with you.” He shook Dean's hand off and pulled the blanket around himself.

Shrugging Dean knew that was the end of that discussion and went to grab two sodas from the plastic bag on the backseat. Handing Cas one of the cans, Dean walked to the front of the car and slipped to sit on the hood. He tugged the blanket tightly around himself and patted the hood next to him. ”C'mere,” he declared and watched as Cas found place without scratching the paint (to Dean's relief).

It was on instinct Cas' arm smoothed around Dean's shoulders, pulling him in closer and it immediately made a calm spread through Dean's body, like he had slipped into a tub of hot water melting his frozen limbs. It had only been a short time since they had gotten together, really together, and it had been a weird transition – yet, when Dean let down his guards it was as if he was coming home whenever Cas' arms were around him. He rested his head against Cas' and he released a soft sigh.

For a while it was quiet. The only sounds was from small animals finding their way through the grass, or an owl hooting somewhere behind them. The wind was rustling through trees and they shuffled closer as their bodies cooled down.

”Do you ever miss it?” Dean asked, his voice almost a whisper in the dark as he looked up at Cas. ”The angel thing, I mean.” His lashes tickled over the top of his eyelids as he looked up, and he could see his own breath steaming from between his slightly parted lips.

”Dean...” Cas started out, the tone reserved for when he was gonna put Dean in his place, firm but gentle. But then he changed. His features softened and his forehead fell in lines as he squeezed Dean's shoulder. ”Being an angel was about being a soldier – being human is about... living,” he said quietly. ”When I was an angel I thought that was what a life should be, but being human is what I want to be.” He silenced for a breath and Dean found his boyfriend's fingers, lacing their hands together. ”If I could have both...” Quiet words, each one followed by pondering emphasized by the crisp fog from his hot breath meeting the cold night. ”Having both would be a wonderful gift, but if I had to choose – I would choose human over an over again.” No pondering, no carefully chosen words; this was the one thing of which Cas was certain, Dean knew that before he had even finished his sentence.

Sometimes it still crossed Dean's mind how he had spent twenty six years of his life being told that everything that wasn't natural was evil and to be killed sooner rather than later, how he had been scared and hateful of all unearthly creatures his whole life, how his fear had been to one day either be killed by one or be turned into one – and here he was occasionally wishing that he could have what Cas had had. The powers. If he had been in possession of the powers he could have saved people he had spent his life watching die. He could fix the bruise on his boyfriend's arm and the cut on his own cheek. Hell, he could fix the tire so they wouldn't have to spend their night out here.

”That's because of me, right? It's gotta be because of me. If you still were an angel you couldn't have my sweet ass.” He laughed at his own joke, making the car slowly rock under them and Cas couldn't help cracking a grin himself followed by a sharp roll of his eyes. ”Yeah. Yeah, we can say that,” he teased, nudging Dean's knee with his own.

”You're a good human,” Dean muttered under his breath and pressed a kiss to Cas' neck. ”My human.”

#spnwritingchallenge #lux-tuli #wanderingcas #rosemoonweaver #destielonfire #dean winchester #castiel #tv #tv:supernatural #ship #ship:burn with you #mine:spn #mine:deanwinchester #mine:castiel #mine:destiel #charlie writes spn #charlie writes destiel #i suck i have to fix my tags

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spnfanficpond · 3 years

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SPN Season 14 Weekly Episode Writing Challenge Week 19 Masterpost - Jack in the Box

CLICK HERE FOR THE CHALLENGE DETAILS!

Prompts:

“I’m not my first choice, either, but here we are.”

“I came here to tell you something. Something important.”

“People are hungry for the truth.”

“It doesn’t have to be a dream.”

You have to do way better than that, buddy.”

Submissions:

Perfect by @mrswhozeewhatsis

Keep writing and tagging, and we’ll keep adding your fics to this list!!

#Pond S14 Weekly Challenge #writing challenge #supernatural writing challenge #SPN Writing Challenge #spnwritingchallenge #spnclanntag #spnfanficpond #fic rec #spn fic rec #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #Supernatural fanfic #spn fan fiction #supernatural fan fiction

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wigglebox · 8 years

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Pumpkin Man

SPN Writing Challenge | wigglebox vs. @delicious-irony prompt: Pumpkin pairings: Dean/Cas (ish) word count: 2276 tags: Halloween, Friendship!fic, unbetad -- AO3

Castiel’s first mistake was getting off the hayride. His second mistake was taking pictures of the decorations strung up on the trees. One of the skeletons hanging from the lower branches looked a lot like Donald Trump, so he made sure he took plenty of pictures for his friend, Leslie.

Cas turned after he snapped the last less-than-artful picture with his phone only to see that the hayride tour group boarded without him, and left.

The situation didn’t hit him at first. He knew he had a flashlight, and there was a path, ish. But as he took a few steps in one direction, dread settled into the pit of his stomach. He was in a town he’s never been before, a rural spit of land with maybe 300 people living in the town. The hayride took the group from a large farm just as the sun sank beneath the horizon, and meandered slowly through dummies and actors and a field of hay towards the woods.

They were in the woods for a while, once again being scared by actors along the trail and the dangling ghouls and skeletons from the trees. The path that the ride took wasn’t lit, being only guided by headlights from the tractor.

Cas was lost.

Dread turned to anger in a flash as he kicked a nearby tree. He didn’t even want to go to this, but was dragged along by a group of his classmates from the university. He didn’t like being scared, he didn’t like Halloween, but he sucked it up because how bad could it be?

Bad. His phone was nearly dead from taking pictures for an incessant Leslie who wanted to see everything while being stuck in her bed with the flu. There was no cell service, and google maps still thought he was on campus and couldn’t update. All he had was his flashlight and 25% battery.

I’ll stay right here. I’ll stay here and someone will realize they went on without me and double back Cas told himself, taking deep breaths. His eyes slowly adjusted to the dark. Turning, he saw out of the corner of his eye something shaking in the wind. Cas jumped and turned and faced it completely before he realized it was just a skeleton hanging from a noose. It dangled eerily in the darkness.

Cas kept his eyes on it as he sank down against a tree. The moonlight was helping him adjust more to the darkness. He could make out trees several feet away now. He glanced around and saw more swinging decorations above him, including the Donald Trump replica. Shivering, he brought his attention back to the swinging skeleton on the noose.

“Just you and me.”

The skeleton, which he decided to name Frank so it wasn’t as spooky, jangled its limbs in acknowledgement. Cas smiled. He remembered Horace the Skeleton in his anatomy class a few years back during his undergrad. They dressed him up and took him on field trips, even used him to prank the Dean of Students who was constantly on his phone.

Cas brought his phone back out and checked the time. Only ten minutes had passed though it felt like an hour and the wind picked up. Cas shivered slightly under his windbreaker, annoyed he didn’t bring a heavier coat. Annoyed at everything.

A strong gust blew through the trees at a bone chilling pace, and Frank popped right off the rope he swung violently from. Cas jumped as the skeleton landed right at his feet.

Before he could reach out for Frank, a twig snapped somewhere to his left.

Cas jerked around on instinct to stare into the black. It was pointless, the fall foliage blocked a good portion of moonlight and Cas could still only see several feet in front of him.

Another snap, closer this time.

Cas jumped to his feet, heart pounding out of his chest. His phone clattered to the ground. Cas dropped to his knees and raked his hands over the rocks to find it, eyes staring into the void which stared right on back.

His fingers found the smooth glass surface and he stumbled back onto his feet. The flashlight twinkled on, his phone now at 20%.

It did little good, the tiny beam of light only stretching the same several feet Cas could already see in the dark.

“Hello?” He asked, too quiet against the wind. He sounded like a child. Clearing his throat, Cas stood taller while ignoring his nerves.

“Who’s there?” The wind dampened his voice but it was stronger than before, sounding braver than he felt.

No one answered him and Cas thought about sitting back down again, but then a light emerged from a distance tree. At first, Cas figured it to be the tractor but the sound of an engine was absent. The light moved from right to left, almost hypnotizing Cas before panic set in. The light was getting closer but it did not look like a flashlight. There was nothing attached to it, and as it closed in on Cas, he finally saw the shape.

A floating jack-o-lantern with a grotesque face leered at him out of the darkness. Except, as Cas kept his eyes frozen to the image, an arm protruded from the back of the pumpkin and up to the shoulders. But the night seemed to swallow the figure’s head, because it wasn’t there.

Without a sound, Cas turned and booked it down the little bit of path he could see with a combination of the pumpkin light and his own flashlight (15%).

Cas didn’t get too far before he tripped over a root and stumbled face first into the dirt. A gush of warmth fell over his lips and down his chin, followed by the sting of a split lip and scraped hands.

Heavy footfalls grew louder behind him and Cas scrambled to his feet. His hand stung and he felt the breeze cool the blood on his chin, but all that seemed in a distance universe as he tried attempt number two at fleeing.

Once again, his efforts were thwarted. A strong hand enclosed on his upper arm. Cas turned, almost in slow motion, to face the headless horror. Dressed in all black, the figure would have blended into the darkness surrounding them had it not been for the glowing pumpkin.

Cas opened his mouth, ready to betray any last amount of courage he had by screaming. Nothing came out but a dull huh?

The shoulders shook before him as it dropped the pumpkin to the ground. It made a hollow thunk against the rocks, indicating hard plastic. The shoulders shook some more and before Cas could pass a thought, they came off. Underneath, a young man around Cas’s own age with short hair and a smile ten miles long.

“Sorry man, I can’t talk with that thing on,” he said, tucking the faux shoulders under his arm, “I guess I did look freaky. Oh, you’re bleeding?”

Cas touched his hand to his lip and chin again and felt the cooling wetness.

“Come on, let’s get back to my station I have a first aid kit there.” The guy looked incredibly guilty, and Cas went on and let him. Annoyance bled into anger for the third time that evening, and now Cas was injured as a direct result.

“Why were you chasing me?” He grumbled as he followed the man along through the darkness, the stupid plastic jack-o-lantern back lighting the path ahead of them.

“They radioed in a missing guest, last seen by the Skele-Trump. I was closest so I went looking for you,” He glanced back with the light, “Sorry about making you fall, I’ll get reamed out for that.”

Good was all Cas could think as a hefty wind gust blew through, biting through his windbreaker. He shivered, and stumbled over another rock. He hated everything about everything.

They arrived at a makeshift wooden house, where this headless horseman must wait for the unsuspecting guests . Cas saw no horse.

The painted on door almost laughed at Cas, jeering over the fact he couldn’t get inside the building for warmth.

A walkie-talkie sat on the makeshift window sill, and the man snatched it up.

“Mothership this is Ichabod come in, over.” He winked at Cas. Cas rolled his eyes and turned his back.

The radio talked back in garbled nonsense Cas didn’t even bother to listen to. Ichabod answered whatever question the Mothership asked Found him, some injuries not serious, bring it around and placed it back on the sill.

“Alright, hang on just a minute I’ll get those bandages.” Ichabod disappeared behind the building to fetch the first aid kit. Cas could feel the blood drying on his chin, a good sign. It occurred to him he didn’t even ask for Ichabod’s name. He decided he didn’t care.

“I’m Dean by the way,” Ichabod-Dean said coming back from behind the building, “We’re not supposed to give away our real names but I feel kind of bad making you trip and all that.”

“It’s okay, just give me the kit I can take care of it.” Cas took the kit and rifled through it. Basic stuff for a basic injury.

“You sure? I have first aid training,” Dean said, clearly uncomfortable with a guest taking care of themselves.

“I’m finishing up a PHD in Pediatrics, I know how to take care of a split lip,” Cas grumbled again. He hated he kept doing that but he didn’t want to speak to this guy too much. His mouth hurt.

Cas set about the task of wiping the dried blood from his face. The split lip was minor, and turned out the bigger blood source was a scrape on his chin. He worked methodically, ignoring the stares from Dean.

Finished, Cas felt like an idiot with a bandage on his chin but was grateful a swath of his own DNA wasn’t all over his mouth and chin. His anger subsiding, he silently handed the kit back to Dean, who seemed to have taken the hint to stop talking.

They stood awkward in the wind and the dull lantern light. Dean sniffed and huddled against the wall of the building to shelter himself from the wind. Cas didn’t feel as cold now that he healed himself up and knew help was on the way.

“Where do you go to college?” Dean asked, finally breaking the tension.

“Amherst,” Cas answered.

“Same,” Dean nodded. Cas glanced at him but Dean was staring at the ground.

“Same? What do you study?” Cas asked, aware he was sucking himself into a conversation when his mouth was still sort of numb.

“Getting my masters in Mechanical Engineering.” Dean said, still looking at the ground, kicking a rock. Cas thought of a child who had been reprimanded. He felt a twinge of shame, letting his temper get the better of him when without Dean, he would still be out in the forest with the skeletons.

They kept talking, Cas asking the questions this time, until Dean finally picked his head up. Under the makeup and the heavy, black victorian suit Cas figured he possibly had some shade of attractiveness.

The people-mover hayride lumbered back through the woods, blessedly empty. Dean helped Cas on (annoyingly) and sat on the other side of him (thankfully). The ride back was silent but it wasn’t the uncomfortable silence back at the building. They knew a bit more about each other now. Dean was finishing up his Mechanical Engineering masters, lived off campus just a block away from Cas, and had a cat that he hates. Cas let Dean know he was aiming for his PHD, he lived a block away from him, and loved cats (to a point).

They reached the parking lot, and the only friend that stayed behind was the one who brought Cas to the trail to begin with, Henry. He stood next to his car, a frown on his face, displeased with being left behind by the group.

That makes two of us Cas thought as he jerked to a stop. He looked over at Dean again who leaned over to speak with the tractor driver. Cas figured he might as well make some sort of friendship with Dean, since he probably lost a few tonight.

Dean beat him to it.

“Do you like scary movies?” He asked, turning back to Cas.

Cas wasn’t particular about it. He liked movies in general.

“I like movies in general.” He answered.

Dean nodded to the driver who got off his tractor then turned back to Cas fully.

“We’re going down to the Palace to watch the horror marathon. All terrible B-list 80’s movies. Want to come along?”

Cas glanced at Henry, who glared back at him. It only took Cas two seconds to make up his mind.

“Sure, let me grab my bag.”

He hopped down and marched over to the car and grabbed his bag.

“What the fuck happened to you?” Henry asked as he saw Cas’s face under the spotlight on the barn.

“Donald Trump beat me up. Listen, I’m going with them tonight you can leave.” Cas stated, not even staying to see Henry’s reaction. But as Cas walked away he swore he heard Henry mutter “Oh NOW he tells me”

His face was sore, his body ached against the chilling wind, but Cas was starting to feel better as he went over to Dean and the driver (who Cas later learned was named Benny) who stood patiently waiting for him with laughter and smiles on their face.

#spnwc #spnwritingchallenge #delicious-irony #destiel #deancas #mspnfanfic #i'll tag the rest later when i get home #<3

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envydean · 8 years

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Warmth on his face Burning on his knees A gentle hand snaked around his waist A touch so mild it’s barely there Green eyes stare into the flames Remembering He wished he didn’t have to remember No one should have to remember flames Engulfing their home and possessions And their mother. Fireworks crack over head Blue eyes gaze at the colourful sparks He remembers too The day when the sky forgot to show them the stars And showed them his brothers and sisters falling Pulled close, they have each other Tender touches, sparse words Because they both remember But they’re both still here A human raised from hell An angel fallen from heaven Bent and a little crooked maybe But still whole Still family Still together

days of remembering; jrl (envydean)

SPN Writing Challenge | envydean vs. @hunterangelkisses

Prompt: Bonfire Pairings: Destiel Word count: 126 Tags: Canon set, bonfires, remembering, slightly angst, established relationship implied, poetry

#spnwritingchallenge #hunterangelkisses #spnwriterscollective #destielwritersnet #astralisfam #adoredean #poetryandoldermen #galaxystiel #Supernatural #mypoetry #myspnpoetry #destiel poetry #poetry #this turned out sadder than expected #*throws feels at followers*

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butwritingishard-moved · 8 years

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miles of husks to trample;

@spnwritingchallenge | @butwritingishard vs. @tattooedluci prompt: corn maze pairings: general fic, dean & sam word count: 368 words tags: angst, wee!chesters (sorta??) AO3

i. You’re on the wrong side of 10 years old and you beg dad to bring you, “It'll be good field practice,” you say; “Don't lose your brother,” a little soldier’s orders. The corn maze is a late September-sun scented freedom, Dry, Bright, Warm. Dad’s only watching from the edges and you have miles of husks to trample.

i.ii. You lose Sammy 12 minutes in and find him crying 8 minutes later. You tell dad you got distracted by a cute girl halfway between the fork you took a left and the fork you took a right. You promise yourself you'll never lose him again.

ii. 15 years old and you don't have to worry, Sammy doesn’t leave your side. You’re his Big Brother, still a God Among Gods even when he knows, you’re still a dork, idiot, jerk under gunpowdered skin and cocky smiles. Dad drops you off at Uncle Bobby’s, Uncle Bobby drops you off at Big Joe’s Sweet Corn Corn Maze, “It’ll be fun,” he says, “boys your age shouldn’t be sittin’ ‘round dusty piles’a nightmares all day.”

ii.ii. You and Sammy find your way out, 10 minutes flat. You flick his ear with a grin and he shoves you into a pile of dead husks and pale silk, but you make it out. together. You don’t lose him, and you get a kiss from the pretty girl at the cider stand.

iv. 25 years old and you lost him to California sun, sand, and term papers, You try not to count the days weeks months years since he hitched a Greyhound. You're chasing another nightmare through the maze, one ugly sonofabitch, and for a second you think you see him 6 years old, crying beside a bale of hay, a mockery of a scarecrow, Indian Summer-burnt and small in hand-me-down flannel.

iv. ii. The SOB swipes claws a half a hair above your head, you swing, turn, shoot. just like dad taught you. You let yourself look from the corner of your eye, you tell yourself you’re looking for another threat. No nerdy, little floppy-haired scarecrow, nothing but half-dead corn and the dying sun of October. You lost him You lost him You lost him.

#spnwritingchallenge #tattooedluci #spn fic #dean winchester fic #weechesters #wee!chesters #dean angst #dean winchester fanfic #sam winchester fic #spn fanfic #supernatural fic #spn angst #dean winchester #Sam winchester #*mine #(; tag later)

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spnwritingchallenge · 8 years

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Pinch Hitters Needed!

Hello all! The September (and final) challenge is officially over and we want to thank everyone who took part. Unfortunately, we are missing a few fics! We are now looking for any writers who are willing to pinch hit for these missing prompts. Our goal is to have every prompt have two interpretations, so we want to be sure that everyone who did post their fic/poem has another version of their prompt to check out!

If you are able and willing to write a fic or poem for one of the missing prompts below within the next week, please message the challenge blog ASAP and let us know. Thank you in advance for being awesome! We will keep this list updated so you know if someone has already taken the prompt. The missing prompts are:

bonfire - @envydean

corn maze - @someoneoffthestreet

haunted house - @lux-tuli

raking leaves - @thegreatficmaster

scarecrow - @roxy-davenport

NOTE - If you are an author and one of these prompts is yours and you are still planning on completing it, please message the challenge blog so we do not assign it a pinch hitter.

#spnwritingchallenge #spnwriterscollective #spnfanficpond #challenge: september 2016 #challenge: pinch hitters needed #pinch hit #jensennjared

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blissfulcastiel · 8 years

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Apple Pie Confessions

SPN Writing Challenge | blissfulcastiel vs. deanghostchester Prompt: Apple Picking Pairings: Destiel, Sam/Jess, brief Mary/John Word count: ~6k Tags: High school au, friends to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, almost first kiss, awkward aftermath, first kiss, shipper!sam AO3

“Pleeease, Dean?” Sam whines, and Dean can feel those puppy dog eyes burning into the back of his head. He sighs in annoyance, busying his hands with folding his clothes just so he doesn’t have to look into those wide, fourteen year old eyes because as soon as he does, he won’t be able to say no. “Sammy, why would I want to be the third wheel of your little play date? I got better things to do.” “Like what?” Sam huffs, “The only things you do on Saturdays are go to the garage with Dad and watch porn before bed. And it’s not a play date!” Dean snorts, cheeks warming. “Well, that sounds like a pretty damn good Saturday to me. And you’re forgetting that Cas and I hang out too so I’m not gonna ditch him to play chaperone.” Dean’s a little offended that Sam thinks he has no life, but doesn’t dare correct his assumption that he watches porn at night. It’d be the only explanation as to why Sam probably hears him through their too thin walls. Dean could never admit that every Saturday night, the only thing he gets off to is thoughts of his best friend. He really does try to be quiet about it – he’d do it in the shower to conceal his activities if it didn’t look suspicious taking an additional, unnecessary shower – but sometimes his imaginings just make it too hard to contain his moans. “Then ask if he wants to come with. Cas likes being outdoors so I bet he’d have fun.” Dean finally turns around to meet Sam’s gaze, noticing how that telling smirk instantly melts to puppy dog eyes and he scoffs. “Do you really think Cas wants to spend his Saturday trailing behind and you and Jess while you two make goo goo eyes at each other?” Sam sighs. “I don’t know. Dean, can you please take us? You’re the only one who can. Dad’s working with Bobby all day and Mom’s not feeling well. Jess was super excited for this weekend and I really want to make her happy.” Dean studies his brother’s crest fallen face, almost like he’s given up hope and Dean groans inwardly. He was really looking forward to spending a lazy day with Cas in his room while they chose a new show to binge on Netflix. As much as he wants to say ‘no, maybe next time, Sammy,’ he can’t. “I don’t understand what’s so exciting about apple picking,” Dean starts and Sam looks up warily at him, “but fine. I’ll take you guys.” Sam’s face instantly lights and he surges forward, arms wrapping around Dean as he knocks into him. “Thank you so much, Dean! It’ll be fun, I promise!” “Yeah yeah. You owe me. Now get out of my room.” Dean ruffles Sam’s hair affectionately despite his grumbling. Sam swats his hand away before trotting happily out of the room and not even a minute later, Dean hears him through the wall talking to Jess on the phone about tomorrow. He chuckles to himself, lying on his bed and grabbing his phone from the nightstand, tapping on his most recent call and holding the phone to his ear. “Hello, Dean,” Cas greets in that gravelly voice after only two rings.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean can’t help but smile automatically at hearing his voice, “Hope I’m not interrupting anything.” “Not at all. I was just finishing up my homework for the weekend.” Dean snorts. “Dude, it’s Friday. That’s what Sunday nights are for.” “Yes, I’ll remember that when you’re complaining to me about your English journals while mine are already done,” Cas snickers. He rolls his eyes but knows Cas is right. Still, he’s not touching those journals a minute before five o’clock come Sunday. “Whatever. I didn’t call for a lecture on the punctuality of my homework habits.” “Is something wrong?” Cas’ voice instantly melts from light and happy to concern. Dean has to bite back a smile at the change. It’s always nice to know someone genuinely cares about him, especially when that someone is Cas. “No, nothing bad. It’s about our plans for tomorrow. Sammy’s going on a date with Jess, and Mom was supposed to take them but she’s not feeling well. So that makes me Sam’s only hope and… he gave me the puppy eyes, Cas.” Castiel chuckles on the other end. “He’s a master at those. But it’s okay, Dean. Maybe I can escape my family for a couple hours on Sunday and if I can’t, we’ll see each other on Monday.” Cas’ voice is reassuring, but Dean can’t help but hear a note of disappointment buried underneath the words. Or maybe Dean’s just projecting his own disappointment. Every week, he looks forward to spending time with Cas. Obviously they see each other at school and occasionally hang out for a couple hours after school to do homework together, but it’s not the same as the weekend. Even if Dean shares his ‘Cas time’ with other people, it’s still the best day of the week. Sundays never work because Cas volunteers at the local animal shelter for half the day and then is sentenced to endure ‘family night’, something his parents insists no member of the Novak family misses. Monday is just too far away and Dean cannot wait that long to see Cas again. He could ask Cas to come with but… wouldn’t it be weird? Wouldn’t it feel like a double date or some shit? The last thing Dean wants is to trail awkwardly behind Sam and Jess while they hold hands and flirt mercifully, serving as a bitter reminder of how badly he wants to do all that with Cas, who’d be so, so close. Damn this stupid crush of his. “What are they doing on this date, anyway?” Castiel’s voice brings Dean out of his sulking. “They’re going apple picking. I don’t really know how much fun they could have picking apples, but apparently it’s the thing to do in the fall.” Cas hums. “Just think of the pie you and your mother can make with fresh apples though.” Dean raises his eyebrows. He hadn’t considered what they could actually make out of the apples after picking them. This is why he needs Cas there with him. It doesn’t matter what they do, anything is more fun when Cas is involved. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Um,” he hesitates, chewing on his lip while a blush heats up his face. He shouldn’t be this nervous to ask Cas to come with them. It’s just like any other time they’ve hung out, only they’ll be chaperoning his little brother’s date. Really, he’s being silly making a big deal about asking Cas to join them. “You don’t have to, but you’re welcome to tag along with you want,” Dean says, the blush burning even hotter and spreading all the way up to his ears. Every second of Cas’ silence feels like an eternity. Dammit, this is so stupid that he gets like this with Cas. “Of course I’d love to come, Dean. I can’t let them out number you, after all,” Cas says with a smile in his voice. A whoosh of air releases from Dean’s lungs and he all but melts with relief into his pillows as he tries to keep the dopey smile on his face from reflecting too much in his voice. “Awesome. I’ll see you tomorrow then.” They say their goodnights and Dean gets ready for bed, the smile staying glued to his face even after he turns the lights off drifts off to dreamland.

[Read more on AO3]

#spnwritingchallenge #deanghostchester #destiel #destiel fic #deancas #adoringjensen #angvlicmish #envydean #friends to lovers #high school au #first kiss #fluff #shipper!sam #sam x jess #megan writes #my stuff

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delicious-irony · 8 years

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Prince Pumpkin

SPN Writing Challenge @spnwritingchallenge

delicious-irony vs. wigglebox @wigglebox

theme: "autumn" prompt: “pumpkin” pairings: Dean/Castiel, Dean & Castiel word count: 1,492 - Part 1/2 tags: h/c, happy end

Castiel wakes with the first timid rays of sunshine that sneak through the leather covering of his window. He briefly considers trying to get back to sleep, but he knows he can’t. Not today. His heart clenches. Beneath the blankets there is warmth, a warmth that has kept him warm in so many ways.

Castiel allows himself to close his eyes and to commit this moment to memory. The languid heat emanating from the still sleeping man behind him, the arm draped around his waist, the mild puffs of breath making his hair shift like seagrass in the roll and drag of the tide. Castiel has been tending his hope like he would the last glowing ember in the heath on a cold winter night, with utmost care to keep it alight, but with no illusion that it might go out anyway. Summoning all his strength, he finally gets up, careful not to wake Dean. Castiel had known his hopes had been in vain when he had seen the King’s Guard ride into his small village yesterday.

The cold October air chills Castiel more than he had thought it would. There had not been enough coals left to last through the night; he had gone through the entire rest of his reserve during the last three weeks to make sure Dean was warm enough. Castiel doesn’t know how he will keep his hut from freezing this winter; the fallen branches he collects for fire wood all year long and dries in the back of his hut will have to do. Coals are a luxury he usually keeps for the coldest winter nights, but with Dean ill Castiel had not wanted to take any chances. The three buckets of coals he had been able to afford this years would not have lasted long anyway.

Castiel makes sure Dean is well covered and he wants nothing more than to kiss Dean farewell, even just on his brow, a last time, but he denies himself. If Dean were to wake up, he would not allow Castiel to do what he knows he must. Suddenly everything goes blurry and it takes Castiel a second to make his way across the room to Dean’s mangled leather bag. Aware of every sound, Castiel opens it, slowly, and removes the bundle of cloth that he knows contains a simple circlet, a necklace with a horned amulet, and a signet ring. All made of gold, and all carrying the insignia of the Crown Prince Michael. The Crown Prince Michael who, Castiel had learnt yesterday, is missing, has been missing for some time now, apparently abducted by some cutthroats hired by the former Royal Advisor Metatron.

When Castiel had found Dean next to the river almost a month ago, he had been hurt and lost. Castiel had taken Dean in, cared for him, and accidentally discovered the contents of his bag when he had looked for information on the man in his care. He had surmised that Dean was a thief, but he trusted Dean when he had said that he had never unjustly killed anybody. Castiel knew he was acting irrationally, foolishly, naively. He had nothing but Dean’s word to assure him that he would not be murdered in his sleep. And yet. His instinct had been to trust Dean, and he had always been able to trust his instincts. There had been something about the man with the bright green eyes and the gentle smile, and while Castiel recognised that he had never seen anybody more beautiful, the way Dean talked about his brother and his friends, the little things Dean tried to do for Castiel told him that the beauty he beheld in Dean’s face had its counterpart in Dean’s heart. And so Castiel had trusted him, a stranger who was likely a thief, and before he had realised it, he had fallen in love.

At least Dean had fallen for Castiel just as rapidly, and as completely. They had gravitated towards each other, with shy looks and flustered smiles, until they had somehow ended up so close that it was impossible to tell where one’s space ended and the other’s began. Kissing Dean for the first time had been like coming home, like coming in from the searing cold of their northern winter nights and stepping in front of a gently burning fire.

Castiel doesn’t know whether the guards are looking for Dean specifically, but he knows that Dean will not be able to escape the guards once they start searching their village. Every village is being searched for the prince or at least information, and theirs is just the last one before the sheer rocks of the mountains behind it. There is nowhere else to go, especially not this late in autumn with the mountains’ summits already wearing bright, white hats. It is only a question of time before they don their matching white capes. Dean has a brother who he needs to take care of, but Castiel has nobody left. He will risk returning the stolen jewellery, hoping that he might get a reward, dreading that he might be taken in, for theft if he is lucky, for suspected abduction or worse if he is not.

Castiel pulls on his second-best coat, made from corse, tan fabric; the thick, woollen one he leaves for Dean. Dean’s coat had been unsalvageable. Castiel tries to enjoy the crisp air on his walk down to the village, his breaths drifting away from him in tiny puffy clouds, but all he can think of is the man who has given his life meaning again.

By now the sun is peaking out and the morning mist is glowing pink. The leaves are bright and colourful. The ground is covered heavily with dew, the more exposed places with frost. They all glitter in the strengthening light. It’s beautiful. The houses he passes are decorated with wreaths of woven wheat, ribbons and carved pumpkins in honour of the upcoming festivities. Dean loves pumpkin pie. Castiel had soon discovered that Dean loves any sort of pie, especially pumpkins. Sugar is expensive, but pumpkins are cheap and sweet. Castiel has not told Dean that this is the main reason he usually made pumpkin pie when he could afford the butter for the crust. On Dean’s first visit to the village, once he had been better, Dean had been so excited about all the pumpkins that he had bought four different kinds - a chunk of an enormous Hubbard, a Butternut, a Buttercup and a Spaghetti. Castiel had pointed out that those were all, in fact, technically squashes, but Dean had insisted on calling them pumpkins, and Castiel had ended up calling Dean Prince Pumpkin. Dean had laughed so hard he had dropped the Butternut, which had promptly exploded upon impact on the ground. Dean had retaliated calling Castiel Princess Buttercup, and Castiel had pretended annoyance and had told Dean off, but Dean had only laughed more loudly, eyes twinkling with mirth. They had kept calling each other Pumpkin and Buttercup, each huffing and puffing, and each with the same soft smile on his face.

Too soon Castiel arrives at the inn where the guards have spent the night.

The guards are up and out and about already, preparing their horses. They look up when Castiel comes close. He identifies the captain easily, a bear of a man with a surprisingly well-kept beard. The man raises his eyes questioningly when Castiel steps up to him.

“Good morning,” Castiel greets.

The captain briefly inclines his head in greeting.

“Good morning to you as well,” he says. “It is early to be out.”

The last part is clearly meant as a question.

“I heard you were looking for information on the crown prince,” Castiel starts.

The guards perk up and shift closer. Castiel takes a deep breath. Now or never, he supposes. For Dean, he thinks. “I have something that might be of interest to you, but I do not know if it will help you find him.”

Without any more ado, Castiel pulls out the regal paraphernalia. There is a collective gasp, and the captain’s eyes grow hard.

“Why do you have those.”

This time it is not so much a question, but a demand.

“I found them by the river outside the village,” Castiel lies. “About three weeks ago? No, almost four.”

The guards do not look convinced, but maybe that’s just Castiel’s knowledge that he is a bad lier. A shitty lier, according to Dean.

“Are you sure?” The captain sounds as if he is sure that Castiel is lying.

Castiel nods, his eyes wide. Please, let them believe him. Please, let them not find Dean. It suddenly occurs to Castiel that the guards might search his little hut anyway, maybe they would not even have found it, tucked away close to the woods as it is, and now he, wanting to help Dean, might have sent them to him. His stomach plummets.

Castiel’s face must be mirroring his sudden terror and the guards need no further command from their captain to seize Castiel. He can feel their hard grip through his thin coat, he will likely have bruises, but right now he doesn’t feel the pain.

“Y-yes,” Castiel tries. “There were signs of a struggle, and no horse or anything, just a bag, next to the stone, and I didn’t take the bag-…”

Castiel is babbling and both he and the guards know it.

“You’re lying,” the captain hisses, coming close to his face. He turns to his guards. “We’ll get the truth out of this. Garth, Jo, ask around, find out where he lives, search his place, bring back anything that might be of interest.”

The two guards nod and get on their horses; another guard steps up and starts tying Castiel’s wrists behind his back. Castiel is panicking. He should have simply hidden the regalia somewhere, anywhere; he should have simply hidden Dean. Who cares about whether some crown prince he had never met was or wasn’t found.

#spnwritingchallenge #wigglebox #supernatural #destiel #delicious-irony writes

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bluejayunit · 8 years

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Linger

SPN Writing Challenge | bluejayunit vs. adorablejared prompt: bonfire pairings: destiel, sam/jess word count: 1062 tags: camp!AU, high school AU, friends to lovers, fluff, first kiss, mild language and implied sex

Warm smoke reached up from the fire, curling around them and embedding everything with warmth. The bonfire threw its warm light under Cas’s face as he sang to Dean…and 20 high-on-sugar sixth graders.

Cas had convinced Dean pretty easily to volunteer for this camping weekend. It was a field trip for the sixth grade- some school sponsored “bonding opportunity” or whatever. Dean didn’t really care, but Cas had been a camp counselor here for the past several summers, calling it his home away from home. Dean didn’t mind watching a group of 12 year olds for two days if it meant he got to hang out with Cas and Sam and skip school on Monday.

So here he was, playing guitar and singing stupid songs with Sam and a bunch of his classmates. He watched a wave of giggles spread around the circle as he pulled ridiculous faces to act out the song they were singing about a dead goat.

He echoed back some of the lyrics, but mostly he let Cas lead. He knew every word to all these strangely morbid camp songs anyway. (Though, Cas assures him, the girl scout versions his sisters taught him were even more gross.)

When Dean signed up for this trip, he thought he’d be bunking with is group of campers. Then one of the teachers in charge had taken him aside and explained how the cabins were full, and would he mind bunking with Cas at the staff campsite?

Would he mind, Dean thought, sharing a tiny tent for two days with his best friend? You know, the one he’d been head over heels for since his freshman year? No, of course not, no problem at all! (He was completely screwed.)

Right now, though, he had to say things were going well. He noticed some of the kids starting to yawn, so he started to lead some slower songs. He almost laughed when he caught sight of Sam, frozen in shock as his friend Jess sleepily laid her head on his shoulder.

Maybe Dean had eaten too many smores, or maybe he was just drunk off the sunshine and apple cider he’d been soaking up all weekend. But he swore he felt a warmth stronger than the campfire burn in his stomach watching the sweet and focused way Cas watched him play.

“Mmm I want to linger,

Mmmm a little longer, mmm a little longer here with you…”

Emboldened, Dean caught Cas’s eye and threw him a wink at the end of the line, and shit what was he thinking? He shouldn’t have… and now Cas was going to be creeped out and they weren’t leaving until the morning. In his peripheral vision Dean saw Cas reel back, caught off guard, and Dean firmly kept his gaze on the fire as he stumbled through the rest of the song.

He put down his guitar after that, happy to let the other counselors take over. He was so busy not looking at Cas that he didn’t notice that he’d gotten up, collecting littered chocolate wrappers, until Cas was right behind Dean.

He started to worry that Cas was going to tell him off, but then he sat down next to him with a warm smile and not a word. And he meant right next to him, Cas was casually leaning back on his hands, his shoulder pressed against Dean’s. Dean barely had time to get anxious before he remembered that oh yeah, this was Cas, and he somehow just made everything easy.

They listened to the last songs of the night, but Dean felt it difficult to draw his attention away from their blanket. Cas was warm against him, and he smelled like embers and pine needles. Before he knew it the campfire was over. Cas quickly signed both of them up for cleaning up and putting out the fire as everyone else herded the students back to their bunks.

Dean watched Cas put out the fire as he picked up the marshmallow roasting sticks. Cas tossed buckets of water on the fire, each one sending a wave of white smoke up in his face as the clearing suddenly got darker. Soon, all he could see was Cas’s silhouette against the trees, turning to face him. The last thing Dean saw as he drew closer was the ground full of sparks that mirrored the stars above them. Cas drew even closer and kissed him, all soft lips and sighs of “finally”. Dean’s last clear thought was that he tasted like marshmallows.

Dean found himself zoning out at the breakfast table the next morning, just…watching Cas. He could see from across the dining hall that Cas was leading a game with his campers, they were all hitting the table with their fists and clapping in an increasingly rapid rhythm. It was not unlike how he’d been watching Cas all weekend, really. Only this time as he saw Cas give the kids his undivided attention, he knew what it was like to have that all to himself. When the student’s antics made Cas smile and laugh, Dean knew later he could make Cas that happy, and then that smile would be all for him. The knowledge sat light and warm in Dean’s chest.

He snapped out of his dreamy daze when Sam cleared his throat next to him.

“Congrats on finally hooking up with Cas, by the way,” Sam leaned in to whisper smugly.

“I…wha- it hasn’t even been twelve hours how the hell do you…oh, what am I saying, of course you found out.” Dean interrupted himself as Sam laughed at him. Dean sighed dramatically and took a swig of his coffee (the good, caffeinated stuff from the staff room). He would’ve preferred to wait until his and Cas’s relationship was actually established before having this conversation. But what’re you gonna do when you have a freakishly observant genius for a kid brother?

“Seriously though,” Dean said, regaining Sam’s attention, “You gotta keep this between us for now, ok?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “I know, Dean. Like I’d tell.” He smirked, adding, “Just use protection!”

“Bitch!” Dean retorted, grinning back and gesturing towards Jess on Sam’s other side, “I could tell you the same thing.”

Sam went red and choked on his orange juice.

#destiel #adorablejared #spnwritingchallenge #spn fanfic #camp!au #my fic #prompt: bonfire

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spnfanficpond · 4 years

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SPN Season 14 Weekly Episode Writing Challenge

Each new episode, we get new material from the show we all love, so let’s channel that into new stories! Each week that there’s a new episode, we’ll throw up a prompt from the episode. (For the international folks and those who just can’t watch live, we’ll try to keep these prompts as spoiler-free as possible, so nothing that will hint to major plot points.) Pick a prompt, write a thing, post it, tag us, and we’ll add it to the masterpost for that week. No need to send us an ask or sign up, just do it or don’t do it as you have time.

Here’s the nitty-gritty:

You have to be a member of the Pond to have your story added to the masterpost.

Everything is welcome in the Pond, so anything goes! Ships, reader insert, angst, smut, crack, fluff, whatever floats your boat, make it SAIL.

If your story is over 500 words, please use a Keep Reading cut! Also, even if your story isn’t over 500 words, be nice and put your tags under a cut!

Because tags are notoriously sketchy, please tag BOTH @spnfanficpond AND @mrswhozeewhatsis as well as using the tag #Pond S14 Weekly Challenge. Hopefully, tagging all three will mean Tumblr will get at least one right.

Deadline: No pressure! Do it as and when you can!

Feel free to post your fics on AO3 and add them to the Collection HERE.

Any questions? Send us an ASK! (Prompts and masterposts for each week listed below the cut.)

WEEK ONE

Prompts:

“You’re… Oh, God.” “People keep calling me that.”

“Really? That’s very Hallmark Channel.”

“You are my Beyoncé!”

“It’s a magic egg.”

“You know how to use that, right?” “Stab them with the pointy end?”

WEEK TWO

Prompts:

“A little of this, a little of that… hmm… too much of that.”

“Who goes to Duluth in October?”

“Last time I sucked when it mattered.”

“What’s it like in your hometown?” “Empty, wind-swept, dead bodies lying around….”

“Very elegant! But, then again, so are you.”

WEEK THREE

Prompts:

“I can’t eat. I can’t sleep. It’s always just there… watching.”

“I didn’t mean to be a dick.”

“If I get a vote, I’m Team Stick Together.”

“It’s marked ‘gross stuff’.”

“I’m dreading those consequences.”

WEEK FOUR

Prompts:

“So handsome. So angry.“

“Which is not cool. And is weirdly, creepily specific.”

“He must have awesome insurance.”

“Time to slice and dice!”

“I like it when they run.”

WEEK FIVE

Prompts:

“We all need our beauty sleep.”

“This house? You’re sure?”

“That thing that I killed died weird.”

“Thank God for benzos.”

“That’s what everyone says. Except him.”

WEEK SIX

Prompts:

“What, goo?“ “Goo.”

“That’s the thing you do before the sex.”

“Congrats, Mighty Mouse.”

“It’s weird. I’m weird.“ “It’s fine. I think.”

“Stupid magic.”

WEEK SEVEN

Prompts:

“I hate that it feels so good.”

“People say things in the heat of the moment.”

“It doesn’t quiet fit. It’s delicate.”

“We’re takin’ Baby for some for some exercise.“

“I’m passionately peripatetic.”

WEEK EIGHT

Prompts:

“You don’t have to cram it all in at once.”

“After about whiskey #5, it hit me.”

“We met him. Major dick.”

“That lady’s a peach.”

“Pushing pencils, damning souls. Tough work.”

WEEK NINE

Prompts:

“The secret password is Cookietacular.”

“I guess that’s what she meant by ‘volunteer’.”

“Certified Priority Express”

“I guess I’m just fired up.”

“It’s lighter than I expected.”

WEEK TEN

Prompts:

“Wet one out there, eh?”

“It’s a big trunk.”

“We have shifts, now, because you mess up so, so many things.”

“And I want you to know you have my full emotional support.”

“Kill a ghoul, get a beer!”

WEEK ELEVEN

Prompts:

“You want to hop in? Help out?”

“Glad it satisfied.”

“First name Eat, last name Me.”

“If you do this, we’re done. You walk.”

“Say it. I can see you want to.”

WEEK TWELVE

Prompts:

“I don’t need to get shaky on this thing.”

“The woman has a remarkable command of profanity.”

“I killed him… it… whatever.”

“Thinking? Highly overrated.”

“Well, nobody’s perfect.”

WEEK THIRTEEN

Prompts:

“He’s a spoiled little jerk but I love him.”

“I took a vow.”

“This is like the best worst thing to happen to you.”

“Well, that’s one for the record books.”

“God bless kale, am I right?”

WEEK FOURTEEN

Prompts:

“Well, that’s not sustainable.”

“This is like an AV Club presentation.”

“I let his mother ride the jet ski ONE time!”

“I thought my performance was quite magnificent.”

“Must be all that finally waking up from centuries of misogynistic oppression.”

WEEK FIFTEEN

Prompts:

“I look at them, sometimes, after you fall asleep at night.”

“I’m Justin Smith and this is my foxy wife, Cindy!”

“Next time try to be a little less apt.”

“I’m gonna make some bacon.”

“If we can’t remain civil, then you can skedaddle.”

WEEK SIXTEEN

Prompts:

“Porn? Sex tapes? Nip slips?”

“My mission is shopping?”

“Their whole place must smell like beer, Kleenex, and Old Spice.”

“We should probably do what he says.” “Definitely.”

“If you two are gonna kiss, can you go in the other room?”

WEEK SEVENTEEN

Prompts:

“Hold your haystacks, I’m coming!”

“This whole damn town’s a dead zone.”

“They are lightly cursed.”

“Are you insane? This is Mulberry silk!”

“I mean….” “’I mean’??? What do you mean, “I mean’???”

WEEK EIGHTEEN

Prompts:

“Kind of sounds like you’re bummed about it.”

“Together? Alone?”

“Are you still afraid of me?”

“Things got complicated. I got complicated.”

“Disposition affects execution.”

WEEK NINETEEN

Prompts:

“I’m not my first choice, either, but here we are.”

“I came here to tell you something. Something important.”

“People are hungry for the truth.”

“It doesn’t have to be a dream.”

You have to do way better than that, buddy.”

WEEK TWENTY

Prompts:

“She thinks it’s dangerous and insane, but she’s in.”

“I’m sleeping with your wife.” “I know. I’m kinda into it.”

“I can’t believe you taped it!” “I thought it was hot!”

“I am the stapler queen!”

“I’ll stop talking.” “Probably a good idea.”

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