#those two things are linked in dean's head he knew before He Knew

[vendettasfanfictioning]

This line was gay as fuck but what's even funnier is the way Dean inserts it straight out of left field, completely out of nowhere. It's a point he wanted to acknowledge within this conversation but for the life of him could not have chosen a smoother way to do it.

AND HE SAYS IT BEFORE THIS!!!!

There is a link to gayness and Cas getting laid and honestly it's hilarious to see an invitation this blatant in the earlier seasons of Supernatural. I'm surprised it even got approval because there is literally no other way to interpret this than Dean inviting Cas. This love story really ran itself despite some of its creators not wanting it, huh, and it started a narrative even from the very beginning i.e. not haphazardly plotted out later to justify Cas' confession, because it's always been there.

[only-goose]

More than Nougat

Synopsis: You taught Jack about hickies and now he’s obsessed

Warnings: none really, just a whole lotta fluff

Nothing! There was absolutely nothing! No beer, no bacon, no nothing! And who would’ve eaten all the food and not replace it? The two black holes for humans you live with. The Winchesters, those boys with their bottomless stomachs drove you crazy sometimes. You’re half tempted to throw Jack into the accusation but he’s still figuring the foods he likes.

“I’m going on a supply run!” You shout through the halls. All you hear is a couple grunts of acknowledgement, until a voice behind you says “can I come?” You nearly jump out of your skin, not expecting to see Jack behind you. “You scared the shit outta be dude, but yeah, of course you can come” you answered him. “Sorry for scaring you y/n” he apologises.

You chuckle his apology off, trying not to let your heart run wild. Even though Jack was only, technically, a few years old, he resembled someone of your own age. This very quickly led you to falling for him, his newborn innocence, childish humour and clinginess (you loved though, let’s be real).

“Alrighty Jack, let’s go” you say as you lead him up the stairs, to the garage. You unlock your ‘64 Pontiac and hope in, turning on some background music before peeling out of the bunker.

“Can we have a movie night tonight, y/n?” The nephilim asks. “Absolutely” you reply “what do you wanna watch?” He sits there and has a hard think about it, “I don’t know, I’ll look up movies when we get to the bunker. Can we get snacks now though?” He asks. You nod your head as you park. You pull out a trolley and give it to Jack to push, while you wander around and get enough food to supposedly last a few weeks (you knew better than the expect it would last a few days).

Jack absolutely piles the junk food into the trolley, which gives you a good laugh, still enamoured with his childishness. He gives you a massive grin and keeps walking, always making sure to look behind him and make sure you’re still there. You head to the checkout and pay for the mountain of food you bought, Jack standing shoulder to shoulder with you the entire time, watching you interact with the register guy. Jack means his head on your shoulder after you pay and keep making small talk, even though you’ve finished all you need to do. Jack links his hand to yours to try and push his point, he doesn’t wanna be near anyone but you anymore.

After you get home, Jack wizzes off to the computer to search for a movie while you pack away the food, keeping out the snack for movie night. Jack comes bounding in a few minutes later, a dvd in hand, and says “I wanna watch this one” he hold it up for you to see. You look at him and asks if he’s sure, “I’ve never seen it so I really wanna try” he replies. You hold on your giggles as you make your way towards the dean-cave (you think it’s a silly name but whatever).

You press play on the movie as you and Jack get comfortable next to each other on the couch, sitting leg to leg so you can both reach the junk food. Sandy and Danny start singing on your tv screen and it has Jack laughing, you don’t know what at, but you don’t care. Getting to see Jack make you laugh makes your day a little brighter.

You get to the point in the movie when Rizzo appears with hickies from Kenickie. “Y/n?” Jack gets your attention as he taps your shoulder. You pause the movie as you turn to Jack, “what’s wrong?” Jack points at Rizzo and says “what’s wrong with her neck, who has hands small enough to punch her like that?” He ponders “or did she get bitten my a vampire? Some vampire bites look like that, don’t they?”

Jack looks at you concerned as you bust out laughing. “Oh Jack, those are called hickies” you tell him. He raises his eyebrow, almost like he want to ask something, so you continue. “When two people like each other a lot, some like marking their partner. It’s kind of like a possession thing” you can see the cogs turning in his head, trying to make sense of what you said.

“I like you a lot, and I don’t like when you talk to people that aren’t me, so do I put hickies on you?” Jack admits, a big grin adorning his plush lips. You feel a bit conflicted, maybe you didn’t make it clear enough that it was an ‘in love’ type of like, not a ‘just friends’ type of like and so you told him. “I don’t think you get it, it’s for people who love each other. Like want to get married and have a family, kind of love. Not the kind of love you have for friends”

His grin doesn’t falter, “I know what you meant, y/n, and I mean what I said. I like you a lot, the ‘love’ type of like. I wanna hold your hand, and kiss you, and I want you to give me hickies and I want to give you some too” if you were a cartoon, you knew you’d have hearts in your eyes and heart would be thumping out of your chest at Jacks brazen confession.

He watches you patiently as you lean over and peck his lips, testing to water. “I like you a lot too, Jack” you say as you make deep eye contact. Jack kisses you back grinning. “Can you give me a hickie y/n?” He asks shyly. “It’s kind of something you have to build up to. You have to start with marking out before you move to hickies” Jack smashes his lips onto yours as soon as you finish your sentence.

After showing Jack how to make out, you pull away which causes a small whine to rise from Jacks throat. “I’m gonna give you a hickie now, ok?” You say as Jack vigorously nods his head. You got back to kissing his lips, then start trailing them towards his neck. You spend a couple seconds looking around for his weak spot, knowing you’ve found it when he moans and bursts a light bulb.

You look up and see his eyes glowing gold “sorry” he says sheepishly. You kiss his lips, then go back to his neck. You suck and nip at the supple skin, causing all sorts of noises to come out of Jack. You pull back “that should give you a nice purple one in the morning” you say. Jack nods as you both lie down, his head on your chest as you doze off.

You wake up to Jack shaking you, “look, it’s here!” He bounces around, clearly happy to the new addition on marks on his skin when he says, “I think I like this more than nougat”

[trulybetty]

Bookstore | Frankie Morales x f!Reader

Pairing: Frankie Morales x F!Reader (no use of Y/N) Word Count: 2,163 Warnings: This is Flings and Stood Up Frankie four years later, so things might be a little jaded, just saying. No real warnings, hints of some angst - but that's about it Summary: It's been multiple moves across states with Frankie and with retirement from the service the two of you are looking at a fresh start. AO3: Linked

A/N: Soo, this is Bookstore Frankie, the piece that spurred Stood Up and Flings. I've been putting off putting it out as I've been worried this won't live up to those two one-shots. We have the lovely @wildemaven’s prompts to thank for the creation of the Marcus Pike and the Sweet Janes series, and now we have them to thank for Frankie and this currently untitled series 💕✨

There was a misconception some people had when they first met Frankie. They’d take in his appearance, the permanent ball cap on his head, the nondescript clothing, heavy boots, dirt under his nails no matter how often he scrubbed his hands, coupled with his quiet demeanour and make an unqualified assumption.

Which was precisely what was happening at that moment.

“How can I help you?”  the shop clerk asked eagerly, clasping her hands together as she framed herself directly in front of you. Making no mistake who she thought led the excursion to the bookstore that morning.

“Actually,” you replied with a small smile, “I’m tagging along with this guy,” you thumbed in the direction of Frankie who had ignored the formalities you’d found yourself in and was making a beeline for the bookshelves.

“Oh,” was the shop clerk's response and you gave her a short smile before heading off to find your boyfriend who had disappeared amongst the racks of books.

Frankie was an ex-army Delta Force operative and had also served as a part of the Special Operations Aviation Regiment. Not that he would ever tell anyone that. If asked he’d simply shrug and tell those who would ask that he was just a flight instructor, a gross understatement for what he actually did now, but as Frankie told you. It kept things simple, and it kept people from asking questions.

The only reason you knew anything at all about Frankie’s military career is that what was supposed to be a fling between deployments turned into a four-year-long sleepover, three moves across states and his retirement from active service.

But it wasn’t just in bookstores, it was everywhere. Whenever the two of you went out, most people would underestimate him or simply overlook him. To them, Frankie was just an ordinary man, nothing special about him.

But to you, he was everything

As you made your way through the narrow aisles of the bookstore, you finally caught up with him as he held a book in his hand, his brow furrowed in concentration as he read the blurb on the back.

“Find anything good?” you whispered as you came up behind him, sliding your arms around his waist to peer around his shoulder.

Frankie held up the book for you to see, “Dean Koontz,” he said with a smile of satisfaction. “I’ve been wanting to read this one for a while now.”

You nodded, recalling his recent phase of reading through the author’s works.

“What else do you have there?” You asked, indicating the book tucked under his arm.

He didn’t look down, his eyes reading the back of another novel now, “Just some manual.”

You raised your eyebrow, “Just some manual?”

Letting go of him you slid the book out from under his arm and inspected the cover, “Advanced Aerodynamics and Propulsion: A Comprehensive Guide,” you read aloud, your voice echoing a mixture of disbelief and amusement. “Just some manual, huh? A bit beyond your usual fun reads?”

Frankie shrugged, his eyes twinkling with amusement. “Thought I’d brush up a bit before that course starts. It's been a while since I played with the hardcore stuff, and you know how I like a challenge,” his eyes now had a mischievous glint. “Got to keep up with the younger crowd at school. Don't want to let my old age show too much,” he chuckled, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close.

The bookstore, aptly named ‘The Last Book Store’ was nestled between a florist and a coffee shop in downtown Tampa. The store was a captivating blend of weathered leather-bound classics and the vibrant hues of freshly printed paperbacks. The lingering smell of paper coupled with the scent of the fresh roast from the coffee shop next door made it all the more charming. You made a mental note that you would stop there on your way home since you still had yet to find your coffee maker in the labyrinth of boxes since moving to Florida. You were desperate for a freshly brewed cup of coffee and not something made from instant freeze-dried grounds.

“You're hardly old,” you retorted, playfully poking him in the ribs.

He laughed, leaning down and kissing the top of your head. “Says the spring chicken.”

You rolled your eyes, barely a year between you, but couldn't help the smile that spread across your face. 

“Are you excited about returning to school?” you asked, he was going back after a long stint in the military.

Frankie's expression shifted, his eyes distant as he confided, “Yeah, excited but also a bit anxious. It's been ages since I tackled papers and exams.”

You offered a reassuring squeeze of his hand. “No doubt you'll ace it. You've got some smarts in there,” you quipped, a playful grin easing the tension. “And plenty of experience too.”

He laughed, appreciation in his eyes. “Some brains hey Mav? I didn't know you thought so highly of me.”

“Well, I have to give credit where credit's due,” you said, shrugging playfully.

He looked at you a moment longer before leaning in, his lips capturing yours in a gentle kiss. The world around you seemed to fade away, and for a brief moment, there was only the two of you, between the bookshelves hidden from the view of the other customers.

“Do you think we made a good choice moving to Florida,” you asked.

Frankie nodded, his mouth turning up in an expression that resembled a smile, though it never touched his eyes. “I think so. A new chapter for both of us.”

“Is that Francisco Morales with a pun?” you teased.

“Maybe,” he said, his eyes brightening.

“Remember that bookstore we used to visit back in Colorado?” you asked, your voice heavy with nostalgia.

Frankie looked at you, his eyes softening as he remembered. “The one with the creaky floors and the old guy who knew every single book in the place?”

“That’s the one,” you said, smiling. “This place reminds me a little of that.”

Frankie reached for you hand, and gave it a gentle squeeze, “We can make this our new spot. Start a new tradition.”

“You think this is it?” you asked him hopefully.

Frankie gave a half smile, “I hope so, baby. We've been through enough, it's time to settle down.”

The sincerity in his voice made your heart swell with emotion. The journey to where you stood now had not been an easy one, with Frankie's past and the constant moves between deployments. But here you were, together, looking forward to a future you could both finally believe in. 

This was a fresh start.

He kissed your forehead, his lips lingering there as if to seal a promise. “We'll make it work. We always do.”

You looked into his eyes, seeing the determination and the underlying vulnerability that he so rarely showed to others. You knew him better than anyone, and most of all, his potential.

You reached up and cupped his cheek, feeling the stubble against your palm, you bit back a smile. No matter how hard he tried he could never grow in a full beard. Only the other day, when Will came by after his veteran support group had finished. The two men had sat on the porch, beers in hand, Will teasing Frankie as he stroked his own full beard. 

Will was already living in Florida, part of the catalyst for this one last move as Frankie had promised you. That promise had come off of the back of the trouble Frankie had found himself involved in. The trouble that you’d both agreed on was now put to rest and in the past. Will, having served with Frankie as a part of Delta Force, he and the others were a special kind of elite. The creme de la creme, all forged for war and set loose with little to no regard for what would happen once they were back home. Will had been a somewhat lifeline for Frankie in retirement, his quiet demeanour a match for Frankies.

“I know we will,” you whispered, echoing Frankie's assurance, your eyes locked on his. “We're in this together, right?”

Frankie's eyes softened, and he nodded, his grip on you tightening. “Always.”

You both pottered around the bookstore for a little while longer. The building was deceptive from the outside it looked to be a small affair, but the place was expansive with rows and rows of racks and a second floor. Frankie had found another book to add to his stack and you a couple of paperbacks that were light reads to get you through the next couple of weeks.

The two of you watched the rain fall from under the awning of the coffee shop next door. A gentle drizzle combined with the humidity, you could smell the heat coming off the asphalt. 

“It seems like Florida wants to give us a proper welcome,” Frankie remarked.

You laughed as you stashed your purchases into the canvas bag you'd brought with you to keep them safe from the rain, “Very reminiscent.” 

Grabbing your hand, Frankie stepped forward, out from undercover into the rain.

You thought you were both going to make a dash to the car, instead, Frankie stopped and turned his face up to the sky. Before you could ask what was going on you saw the carefree smile tugging at his lips and he looked at peace for the first time in what had been a long time.

“You know Mav,” he said, his face still upturned to the sky, “they say rain is good luck.”

You laughed, shaking your head as droplets clung to your lashes, “Is that so?” you stepped back to close the distance between you both, your fingers reaching out to trace the outline of his jaw.

His hand finding a place on the curve of your cheek and the other around your waist, he moved closer, his lips barely a breath away from your own. Your heart skipped a beat, his touch sent a shiver down your spine despite the warmth the rain fell into. 

“It’s really going to be different this time, I promise,” he stated, looking at you directly in the eye.

“I know,” you responded forcing a smile, really wanting to believe that this was going to be the fresh start the two of you needed. 

Retirement was a bright horizon ahead for both of you full of opportunities. You just hoped it was a bright enough light to stave off the dark clouds that had followed through your last moves across states.

You didn’t think he could get any closer, but he shifted and his hips knocked into you forcing you to wrap your arms around his neck as he pulled you into a playful twirl. The rain soaked through your clothes, and the drops glistened on his face, highlighting the joy in his eyes. 

The world seemed to fade away as you both danced in the rain, your laughter echoing in the otherwise quiet street.

“Here’s to us, Mav,” Frankie said, leaning in to gently kiss your lips. “I love you,” he whispered, his breath warm against your ear.

“I love you too,” you said, your voice cracking with emotion.

His words sent a shiver down your spine, and before you could respond, his lips found yours in a soft yet passionate kiss. The rain intensified the sensation, each raindrop a fleeting caress as you melted into his embrace. It was a kiss that held the promise of everything that had brought you together – the challenges, the laughter, and the shared moments that had forged your connection.

As the kiss deepened, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you in the midst of the rainstorm. His fingers traced a gentle path down your back, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. When you finally pulled away, both of you were left breathless, rain-slicked hair clinging to your skin.

Frankie's gaze bore into yours, his expression a mix of desire and adoration. “I think I've found my luck,” he whispered, his thumb brushing your damp lips.

As you headed back to the car, the rain began to ease, and the sun peeked through the clouds, casting a warm glow on the wet pavement. You glanced at Frankie, noticing the way he seemed more relaxed, the weight of the past years lifting. You could see it in the way he walked, in the way he smiled, and in the way he held you close.

Yes, you thought, this was the right decision. Florida would be your new start, a place to finally settle and grow roots. No more constant moving, no more uncertainty. You had each other, and that was all that mattered.

You slid into the passenger seat, Frankie starting the engine, his hand reaching out to squeeze yours. You looked over at him, his face lit with anticipation and hope of what was to come.

[quietwings-fics]

too tired to be a moth

(Other Links: Dreamwidth - FFNet - Pillowfort - SquidgeWorld)

Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Archive Warning: N/A Fandom: Supernatural Ship: Samifer Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Goncharov (1973) Fusion, Arson, Unresolved Sexual Tension, Cigarettes, Smoking, Wedding Rings Wordcount: 1545 Summary:

Lucifer is a beautiful, dangerous thing, and Sam has always been weak for them. A take on the famous poker scene from Goncharov, but swapping out Sam for Katya and Lucifer for Sofia!

Here is what Sam knows about Lucifer:

That he came to them for a job months ago, looking tired and sad, and if nothing else, whatever unspoken burden he seemed to carry had made it easier for Sam to convince Dean to let him work. That the sadness never went away, and the exhaustion never lifted, but in bare moments where Lucifer and Sam were alone, he would catch the man watching him. He would smile when Sam noticed, not something small and embarrassed accompanied by the discrete turn of his head as Sam’s grown accustomed to with the myriad of people they employ, but self-assured.

That Lucifer is, he says, an orphan. That his parents died in a housefire, much like Sam’s mother. Sam says, “I’m sorry,” because those are the words people offer him when they learn about his past, and Lucifer tilts his head and answers with, “There’s nothing to apologize for. You didn’t cause it, did you?” Sam swallows, shakes his head. Lucifer does not scare him, almost nothing does, not after he and Dean have been trapped in this world their whole lives. That does not make him comfortable in the man’s presence.

That what starts as glances becomes brief touches when they pass each other. Sam never tells him to stop. He should. Dean would throw him out in an instant if he knew. Sam stands under the watchful gaze of the grandfather clock with Lucifer’s hand on his shoulder, every tick setting him on edge like they could be the click of footsteps down the hall. And then Lucifer will be gone again.

That Lucifer hears too much and says too little. Neither he or Dean thought a peaceful retirement was in their future, but everything is catching up to them, minute by minute, bullet by bullet. It has been since the day Dean’s train ran late, nearly two months ago, leading to his chance meeting with Castiel and pulling away from Sam more and more. Sam feels like a jilted wife, but still, he stays.

That Lucifer is not afraid of fire. He watches it like he watches Sam.

That Lucifer is not someone they should have taken lightly in inviting into their home.

Sam ducks out of the poker game at the fourth round. He needs air. Castiel and Dean trade glances across the table, and Sam sees anxiety where others might see confidence in his brother’s overbearing smirk. Tonight will end bloody, and the other men at the table play on unaware that they were dead when they sat down. Sam should be there to back Dean up, but is he needed, when Castiel can hold a gun just as well as him? He goes out on the balcony.

“Need a light?” comes a voice. The cigarette is already hanging from Sam’s fingers, his other hand searching his coat pocket. He’s not surprised to see Lucifer.

He’s always turning up where he doesn’t belong.

“Yes,” Sam says. He turns to receive it. Lucifer’s dressed like he’s working, but he isn’t on the clock today and this isn’t Sam and Dean’s home. Lucifer pulls out his own cigarette. He eyes Sam as he holds it between his lips. He flicks a lighter open, lets the flame dance a moment or two uninterrupted, before he lights up. Sam waits for him to hold it out, but Lucifer closes it again and the lighter is hidden away in his pocket. He takes a drag like a taunt, long and slow, and exhales smoke into the cool night air. Sam sets his jaw, and Lucifer chuckles.

“Don’t look so upset.” He gestures Sam closer, and Sam comes, hesitantly. His mouth feels dry as Lucifer leans in, the end of his lit cigarette pressed to Sam’s for longer than it needs to be. His hand comes up to rest on the back of Sam’s neck, holding him steady. The end lights, and Sam pulls back. He coughs through his first drag despite years growing accustomed to the smoke. Lucifer is utterly relaxed beside him. He does not retreat back to an acceptable distance, body nearly pressed all along Sam’s side as they both turn back out towards the garden below the balcony. From behind him, Sam can hear a brief ruckus, another round over. He closes his eyes, but nothing more comes.

“You went seeking other employment.” Sam asks, “we didn’t provide enough for you?”

“Enough money to survive. Enough of a view to enjoy my days,” Lucifer answers. Sam’s never allowed himself to watch Lucifer’s hands before, but he does now. His fingers are long and graceful, and sometimes he angles his breaths downwards to let the smoke curl around them, wispy snakes that leave Sam entranced. Lucifer’s wedding ring glints in the dim light, and Sam wonders who it is someone like him goes home to. “It wasn’t enough to satisfy me, Sam.” There is something apologetic in Lucifer’s tone, now.

“What would be?” Sam responds harsher than he means. It shouldn’t feel like as much of a betrayal as it is. He hardly knows Lucifer, and what little he does could well be a lie made up to get close, to get information on him and Dean.

“You,” Lucifer says. He’s not offput by Sam’s aggression. He expected it. Sam flounders for a retort, something sharp enough that it will actually cut through Lucifer’s cool exterior to the heart of him, but Lucifer continues, “What your brother’s doing... It doesn’t have a happy ending, Sam. He’s in too deep.”

“And I’m not?”

“No, you are,” Lucifer agrees easily, “but so am I.” Sam wishes he could only smell smoke, but there’s another scent clinging to Lucifer, earthy and enticing. “I want you to come with me.”

“No.” Lucifer does not enjoy denial as much as he did indignance, and his mouth twists a little.

“You’re going to die with him, Sam,” He says. He flicks his cigarette, lets ash fall into the dark below. “I don’t want you to go like that. Come with me.” Sam is tempted. Lucifer is a beautiful, dangerous thing, and Sam has always been weak for them. “Take a gun,” Lucifer says, soft like seduction, “shoot Dean, and meet me in the garden. We can burn your whole house down and run away together. We might get away for years. It’s a longer life than you’ll have with him. A better one.” Happier, Lucifer pointedly doesn’t say, and at least he understands that if Sam’s brother is ever to die, part of Sam will die with him.

“I can’t,” Sam says, which is a very different answer from no.

“You deserve to.” Lucifer pulls his cigarette from his mouth to take one clean breath, and Sam wonders what he tastes like, all ash or if he’s hiding something there, too, secret tastes and secret scents and parts of Lucifer Sam has never had the chance to learn.

“You’ll stab me in the back the first chance you get. You’ve never been who you say you are.” Lucifer looks insulted. Sam carries on. “Do you have a wife? Is that even real?” Lucifer glances down like his own wedding ring surprises him. He considers it.

“I never said I had a wife,” he says, “and I don’t think I’ll ever claim that. This is for someone else.” He twists it off his finger. Where it rested is paler than the rest of his hand. “But it’s very real, Sam. Would you like to touch it? Make sure?” Sam holds out his hand. He expects Lucifer to drop it into his grasp. Instead, he places it gently in the center of Sam’s palm and folds Sam’s fingers over it. For a few brief moments, his hands are clasped around Sam’s own. The ring is still warm from laying against his skin. “Real enough?” Lucifer asks.

Sam opens his mouth to answer. What comes out is a hiss. The tips of his fingers sting, the cigarette left burning forgotten and now demanding he pay it attention. He drops it without thinking, a tiny ember tumbling down into the darkness below, into the dry grass at the base of the house. Lucifer leans over the balcony railing to watch it fall. Sam turns back to him, and that’s when the gunshots ring out.

The poker game is over.

In the aftermath, Sam has to carry Dean out with Castiel watching them. Lucifer has vanished again, and there’s a horrible ache in Sam’s chest that shouldn’t be there at the thought that this may be the very last time they see each other. Still, he made his choice. He went back to Dean. He helps his brother into their car, ready to drive recklessly into the night. If Sam had looked back, perhaps he’d have seen the starts of the fire that would soon engulf the whole property, all born from a single lost cigarette.

It’s hours later when he reaches into his coat pocket and withdraws a ring he hadn’t realized he’d saved in the middle of the chaos.

He turns it over, once, twice. It shouldn’t still be warm, but it is. He brings it to his lips and leaves a kiss against the metal.

(Enjoyed it? Any interaction is welcomed. You can even support me on Ko-Fi <3)

[dreamlandforever]

Damnation

(General Audience | 1k)

Dean is going to his first hunt, the first time he ever leaves little Sammy.

I wrote this Supernatural FF back in 2014! Hope you enjoy it.

AO3 Link

------------- "Bobby!"

He opened his eyes, the daylight that filtered through his boarded up window enough to make out the silhouette of the empty bottles from last night. And the ones before that. Slowly, he stood up from the bed waiting for the dizziness and headache of a hangover to come. They never did. He cursed under his breath. He deserved a hangover, he deserved that pain. He deserved the numbness it provided. But he just couldn’t anymore, no matter how much he drank the day before.

Knock knock knock

It came fast and strong. Another curse. He practically dragged himself downstairs.

"Comin’!" He called once he felt he was near enough to be heard. "And this better be damn good!" He intended it to be angry, menacing. Instead, it came out hoarse and almost inaudible. He tried to remember when was the last time he had spoken to somebody. Nothing came to mind, the memory too far gone to grasp.

He cursed once again before finally opening his front door, the sunlight blinding him for an instant.

"Are you drunk?" He knew that voice. "When was the last time you got any further than your front door?"

"John" he greeted, consciously ignoring his friend’s questions. And then noticed the two small shadows to his left. Once he had fully recovered from the blinding light, the two shadows became two boys he knew fully well. Sammy’s little arm snaked around Dean’s, his hand locked in his brother’s. Little Sammy seemed scared, but gave Bobby a small smile anyway. The kind of smile only an eight year old can muster, so innocent and pure.

Slowly, without his notice or permission, a small smile spread across his face and he didn’t notice until his cheeks hurt from the effort.

"We are going on a hunt"

And that got Bobbys’s attention. He wasnt in a sleep stupor or stuck in his childhood nightmare or watching Karen die at his hand over and over again anymore. He was in his home, with John Winchester and his two kids.

"We?"

"Yes, Dean is going on his first hunt." He announced proudly, like it was a holy mission instead of damnation.

"He is twelve." Answered bobby, still unable to process what the man at his doorway was saying. "He is too young"

"You don’t get to decide that, Bobby. He is not your son" John’s voice was slow, clear. And Bobby knew his friend good enough to hope to change his mind.

'Yeah. But it seems like I care more about the boy than you do' He thought. But he said nothing. Those were not his boys. And he cared too much about them to let that happen anyway; He would just ruin them, like he did everything else.

And that’s when he finally posed his eyes on Dean, taking the whole boy in. He stood erect, his head as high as he could possibly muster, trying his best to look as big as possible. But it wasn’t his pose what surprised Bobby the most; it was his eyes. A twelve-year-old adult. And one more look at the entwined hands told him what had made him like that. He had turned into a single father at the age of six. And he had never heard him complain.

"Why are you here then?" He asked finally, his eyes slowly making their way back to John.

"I want you to watch over Sammy" He nodded. At least little Sammy was going to be safe. For now. "What are you hunting?"

"A vampire." He gulped. He was taking a 12 year-old boy to take down a vampire.

He nodded again, and finally moved to let them into the house. John entered, but none of the boys moved. That’s when Bobby first realized what those boys were. What they would become. Dean’s menacing eyes, Sammy’s determination. John had left then alone way too long, they knew no more world than each other and monsters. Sammy knew nothing else than his brother’s guidance and protection. They were damned. Damned to a life of knowing things normal boys are shielded from. He cursed under his breath. He knew what they would become: easy targets. Dean was old enough to be by himself. Sam was old enough to want some independence. But they never let go of each other. They were damned. Bobby said nothing; they were just boys.

"Come in, boys" He said kindly, taking Sam’s hand in his and guiding them inside. The brothers didn’t let go of each others hand.

"Sam" Called John from Bobby’s study, a book in his hand. Sam looked at his father, then at his brother. "Come." ordered John this time, no room for objection. Dean nodded slightly and Sam went to his father.

"Bobby?" Called Dean after a while. John and Sam were talking about some old book Bobby had, but Bobby wasn’t really listening, lost in old memories again.

Bobby looked at him. Dean’s eyes didn’t meet his. Odd, he thought, he never took Dean for a shy boy. But following his gaze he realized he was watching Sammy’s every move.

"Mmm" gasped Bobby, as way to tell Dean he was listening. Dean looked at him this time, eye to eye. Of course, thought bobby. That was the boy he knew.

"Don’t let Sammy watch Circus Town" He sounded serious. Bobby gave him an odd look. "It has clowns." Dean offered, as a way of explanation. "Sammy loves watching that show. Plays tough while watching it, too. But he won’t be able to sleep at night. He hates clowns." Dean’s eyes were almost pleading now. Bobby nodded, unsure of what to do. Damn, he was nodding a lot today. He was getting used to silence, to loneliness.

"And his favorite food is Lucky Charms, but he can’t eat a lot because he gets sick."

In that moment Sam ran back to his brother, entwining their hands again. “Bobby has a book dragons!” He exclaimed excited, pulling Dean behind him into the study. Deans pleading eyes and worried face disappeared as fast as they had come, a smile and fake enthusiasm replacing them.

And then Bobby understood. Dean was more afraid of leaving Sammy alone than facing a vampire. He was more afraid of losing Sam than dying. They are damned, thought bobby. But they wont be easy target. Dean wouldn’t allow that.

[useless-fanfictions]

You Better Believe It PART FOUR | Destiel Soulmates AU

Pairing: Dean Winchester/Castiel Fandom: Supernatural (2005) Rating: Teens+ Tags: Crack fic, caring Dean, fear of heights, 8305 words | 4/4 chapters | completed Ao3 Link

Summary: The one where Dean doesn't believe in psychics or soulmates. Until he most certainly does.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

“I accept your apology, Dean.”

“Don’t.” Dean looked at him, Castiel’s eyes were trained on Dean’s face. “I just assumed something about you. And then I acted without thinking, I was embarrassed and blamed it on you. I am such a crap person! I’m sorry.”

“Dean it’s fine. Don’t feel too bad. I’m not upset that you kissed me, I just said that because I was angry then. I’m not anymore.” Dean barely heard him.

“You don’t hate me for kissing you?”

“Of course not. I am not going to lie, you have a very pretty mouth. So I was dying to know what it felt like.” Castiel’s eyes widened like he hadn’t meant to say that. Now it was Dean’s turn to be confused.

Instead, he laughed. He laughed because he wasn’t sure what else to do, and the tension between them was so high, and then Castiel’s laugh joined his own and they actually sounded like good friends.

“That is the best thing anyone had ever said to me,” Dean admitted after their laughter had died down.

“Yeah…” Castiel trailed off, looking away. Dean noticed that the mechanic had arrived sometime and was working on the machine. They lapsed into another silence, this one not so awkward. Maybe Castiel had actually forgiven him?

“What’s your family like?” Dean asked, he needed a change in subject.

“Do you really want to know, or you just don’t know what else to say right now?”

“I’ve got no idea what to say, but pity me and answer the question.” Dean smiled and Castiel’s smile lit up too.

“Umm… okay. Well, there’s Gabriel - which you’ve met - and I have another older brother named Michael, and youna ger sister named Anna. We kind of live on our own.” Castiel’s eyes took on this distant look, his whole face even, when he talked about his family. Dean scooted a little closer and gave a smile.

“Well, it’s just Sammy and I and our dad. But he moves around a lot and kind of lets us be, so I’ve basically had to raise Sammy.” Dean didn’t feel anything as he talked. It was easy to talk to Castiel, like they’ve known each other forever, and not just a couple of hours.

“Have you ever told anyone else this?” Castiel asked.

“I have, a few times before. I don’t very often, though.”

“I feel privileged.” Dean smiled at Castiel. The silence was no longer deafening, so they didn’t feel the need to fill it. Dean sighed and leaned back, this waiting thing was getting old.

After a few minutes and hearing the different mechanical clicks and bangs from somewhere down below, Dean watched Castiel’s face as he looked around at everyone at the fair.

He must have sensed Dean’s eyes on him because he turned his head and their eyes connected. “What?” he asked.

Dean shook his head, his goofy smile was back. He still didn’t look away.

Neither did Castiel. Dean cocked an eyebrow up. Castiel’s face didn’t move, but he turned red with a blood blush. What was this guy doing to Dean?

“Last time someone looked at me like that, I got kissed.” Dean’s voice was light and easy now. He was only messing with Castiel.

“I could be wrong, but I’m pretty sure we already established that you kissed me.” Castiel’s smile grew with Dean’s flush.

“I don’t think I agreed,” Dean commented back after a while. “I heard you say something along those lines, but you never got my consent.” Somehow Castiel had scooted closer. Or maybe Dean had moved? Either way, it didn’t matter to Dean.

“Yeah, because you are totally big on consent.”

“Castiel…” Dean breathed. “Are you gay? You never did say if you are or not.” The question was out of left field, and they both knew it. Dean wanted to know, because he just needed to .

“Why would you care?” It was Castiel’s turn to cock an eyebrow up.

“Because I have my reasons. Answer the question,” Dean demanded playfully. Castiel was thrown back for a second. He had questions of his own, but he answered anyway.

“Yes, I am.” Dean noticed how his voice didn’t tremble or waver. Castiel must have been out for a while. Meanwhile Dean… Well, Dean didn’t know.

He struggled to keep his face from blooming into a huge grin when Castiel’s eyes drifted to Dean’s lips. It reminded Dean of their kiss, and how he’d reacted to it by grabbing the other boy’s head and pulling him closer. Dean thought he was 100% straight, only into girls, but Castiel’s lips were distracting. He missed the feeling of a strong jaw pressing against his, the warm, wet feeling that comes from any kiss.

“So you really didn’t care that I kissed you?” Dean asked, becoming more and more confident with each of Castiel’s reactions. Now the other boy flushed and grinned. Dean thought it was addicting and his tongue pokes out and wets his own lips. Yeah, okay, he really liked the kiss and wanted another, so sue him.

“Not necessarily…”

“Would you mind if I did it again?” Castiel had hesitated on all of his other answers, but not this one. He immediately shook his head. Castiel seemed eager himself.

Just like the tease he was, Dean pulled back until he was sitting straight up again. “Good to know.” He watched Castiel’s face morph into disappointment and he pouted. Dean loved it, it was out now, they both knew the other wanted another kiss, Dean just wanted to get revenge on Castiel making him feel like shit earlier.

“What, c’mon! You can’t just do that!” Castiel groaned. Dean laughed and winked at him.

Was Dean Winchester actually flirting with another dude?

Yes, apparently his was.

“What was it like? Discovering that you were gay?” Dean asked abruptly. “I’m asking for a friend.” He tacked on at the end.

“Bullshit, you are asking for yourself,” he grinned. “And it was very relieving, kind of. To know why I liked to look at guys more than I did girls.” Castiel shrugged like it was nothing, Dean’s earlier guess of the other boy being out of the closet for a while was proven correct.

Dean looked at his hands - that were folded in his lap - and smiled shyly. “Yeah, I am asking for myself. I mean, how did you know?”

“Do you like to look at guys, Dean?” Castiel asked as evenly as he could. Dean had scooted closer once more, their thighs were almost touching.

“No,” Dean shook his head. “I just uhh…” Dean rubbed the back of his neck and laughed, God, he was cheesy, “Met a guy that’s making me second-guess myself.”

“You still are into girls, right?”

“Yeah, as far as I can tell…”

“Then you might be bisexual. Into both genders, y’know?” Castiel hadn’t looked away. Dean didn’t either. There was a blush high up on both of their cheeks. Even though it was difficult for Dean to talk about this so casually with a guy he wants to kiss, it was information he really needed to know. Because if Dean was gay, then he would have to reconsider a few moments in his life.

Like the time at the waterpark, Dean had gone to the last town they stayed in. When a group of college kids, guys and girls, only a couple of years older than Dean, had shown up. They were all in swimsuits and Dean caught himself being distracted by the other guys’ tight swimming trunks than the girls’ bikini bottoms. Dean, at the time, had brushed it off and tried not to think about it. So what if it turned up in his spank-bank a couple of time? Doesn’t mean he was gay?

Dean realized now that maybe it kind of does.

Dean nodded, he pulled himself back to the present. “Maybe you’re right.”

“I am always right,” Castiel said, a smug smile back on his lips.

“Really now? Then what do you suppose I’m thinking right now?” Dean challenged. His teasing mood was back, glad that he was able to still joke around with Cas.

“Do you want me to tell you, or show you?” Castiel asked, eyes shining bright with nervousness. Dean knew what he was talking about.

“I think I might experience it better if you show me,” Dean said. God, were they really going to do this, here?

Yes, they were. Castiel leaned in and closed the distance between them. Dean was ready, he knew what he wanted. Here, in this Ferris wheel cart, his pride wasn’t getting in the way. He wasn’t going to push Castiel away this time because he was sure what he wanted.

He knew. He knew he wanted Castiel right here. With their lips pressed together, and Castiel’s hand running through his hair. Dean reached out and pressed a hand to the back of Castiel’s neck, pulling him close. His chest puffed up and rubbed against the other boy’s. It was weird at first, to not feel a pair of breast pressing against him, but it was a pleasant weird. He craved more.

Dean definitely wanted Castiel right where he was.

THE END

[bi-bard]

Tragedy in a Pair - Winchester Brothers Imagine (Supernatural/Criminal Minds Crossover)

Title: Tragedy in a Pair

Pairing: Winchester Brothers X Sibling!Reader

Requested: nope

Word Count: 1,993 words

Warning(s): major character death, mentions of violence, gunshot wound, and demons

Summary: (S2, E1 in both) (Y/n) Winchester faces tragedy on all fronts.

Author's Note: I'm happy that people seem to be enjoying this character as much as I am.

More about this character here!

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

---------------------------------

It felt like I had been hit from all angles.

First, there was the Fisher King.

We were meant to go on a vacation. We were supposed to get time off of the normal flow of cases. My brothers told me that they had tracked down my dad, so I was ready to find them and finally put an end to my dad's obsession.

Then, an unsub latched onto the team.

We were all on edge.

Elle was arrested while on vacation with Morgan. We were given a set of rules and puzzles. It all just felt so... ridiculous. It was something out of some story you read in high school and think is just the coolest thing.

The bastard even shot Elle because we "broke his rules".

I wanted to be with her and the rest of the team.

And then Sam called.

Some demon had possessed a truck driver and hit the impala at full speed. Sam only had a few bruises and scrapes. My dad had a few more serious injuries but was mostly okay. Dean, however, was in a coma. And there wasn't a lot of hope.

Hotch tried to push me to go. I refused. The case wasn't over.

He finally put his foot down. No longer a friend. He was my boss telling me to go see my brothers.

When I got to the hospital, Sam was waiting for me in the lobby.

"Oh, Sammy," I muttered when I saw how bruised up his face was.

"Trust me," he replied. "I look better than the other two."

He led me back to Dean's room.

I walked in slowly. I was acting like my steps could wake him up. Maybe it brought me some comfort to think that he was just napping. I touched his hand.

"Hey Dean," I mumbled. "Don't know if you can hear me. I'm sure my friend at work would know how promising the research had been on those in comas being able to hear those around them."

I chuckled.

"I just want you to know that I'm here," I continued. "Sam and I are right here."

After that, I walked out. Sam walked with me to my dad's room.

"I'm gonna go be with Dean," Sam mumbled to me before leaving.

"Hey Dad," I said as I walked in. I only took a few steps into the room. He wasn't much of a hugger. I knew that.

"Hey kid," he replied.

"How are you feeling," I asked. "Need me to ask the nurse about some more pain meds?"

"No," he shook his head. "How's work?"

"Fine, fine," I nodded. I hadn't seen him since I went off to college. I wasn't shocked at how awkward it was. "We're... We were in the middle of a case actually. Interesting one."

"You're just doing a different kind of hunting," he tried to joke.

I nodded, "I- I guess we are."

There was a long pause between us.

"You should've been there," he spoke up. "With us. The thing killed your mom."

"I was planning on it," I explained. "We got the case on the same day I was going to leave. I... I had a job to do."

"Your job takes priority over your family?"

"I didn't say that-"

"But it's what you mean-"

"That's what you did," I stopped him. "Don't act like we're the same. I wasn't working that case because I chose to. This unsub was threatening my team and everyone around us. I called Sam and told him where the hell I was. More curtesy than you showed us."

There was another long pause between the two of us.

"Nice to know what it takes you to visit," he replied.

"What," I asked, shocked. "If you had bothered to call, I could've helped, Dad. Stop blaming your lack of communication on me."

He rolled his eyes, "You ran from us the first chance you got."

"You told me not to come back."

"You were selfish," he scolded. "You only came to see me now because I nearly died."

"Don't get confused," I snapped as I stepped toward his hospital bed. "I am not here for you. I am here for my brothers. One that's fighting for his damn life and the other that needs someone to do more than treat him like a disappointment."

I turned to leave the room, planning to go check on Dean.

"What would your mother think if she saw you now," he asked quietly.

I froze in the doorway before turning around. I didn't walk closer, I just looked at him.

"Don't you dare bring Mom into this," I replied through gritted teeth. "You are the only reason that I left and didn't come back. Don't blame me for your fuck up. Treat your kids like they're your kids, not your soldiers."

I left the room without another word.

Sam was only a little way down the hall. He was looking down, playing with the zipper of his jacket.

"Have you gotten your cuts checked," I asked as I walked over. He nodded, not looking at me. "Thank you for calling me, Sammy."

"I shouldn't have made you face him," he muttered. "I should've known better."

"No, no, no," I pulled him into a tight hug. "You didn't do anything wrong, Sam. My relationship with Dad wasn't something you could've fixed. That was up to me and him."

He tightened the hug and I heard him take a deep breath, "I heard you talking. Mom would've been proud of everything you've done."

I blinked back a wave of tears, "Thanks, Sammy. She would've been proud of you too."

I stepped back and grinned at him. He grinned back before looking down the hall toward our dad's room.

"Don't, Sam."

"I... I'm just going to see him," Sam explained, not looking back at me.

"Okay," I mumbled. "I'm gonna go see Dean."

He nodded.

We both walked in opposite directions.

As I made it to Dean's room, I pulled out my phone and dialed Garcia's number.

"(Y/n)," I was shocked when there wasn't an interesting greeting. "How are you? Is everyone okay?"

"Umm, yeah, yeah," I nodded, not wanting to go into details. "How's Elle?"

"She's good," Garcia replied. "She's out of surgery and stable."

"Good," I let out a relieved sigh. "And the case?"

"Spencer is running off of pure caffeine," she said. "Surprised he's functioning."

"He does have a tendency to hyper-fixate on finding solutions," I replied with a chuckle. "Let me know if I can help."

"Focus on your family," she instructed. "Hotch has instructed me to not give you anything more than basic updates. No clues."

I chuckled again, "Thank you, Garcia."

"Good luck," she said before hanging up.

I walked back into Dean's room, pulling a chair up to the foot of his bed.

"I'm not going anywhere," I promised. "Not until you're back up."

--time skip--

It wasn't until the next morning that anything happened.

Dean waking up was sudden and terrifying. I threw the chair back and yelled out the door for someone to help.

The doctor removed the tube from his throat and checked his vitals. By that time, Sam had made it back to the room.

"So, you found a reaper after him," I looked at Sam as I sat on the edge of the bed. He nodded. "And Dean just managed to escape?"

"I guess so," Sam shrugged.

"And you can't remember anything," I asked Dean.

He shook his head, "All I've got is this sinking feeling in my stomach. Something's wrong."

There was a knock. We all looked over to see my dad in the doorway. He was in his normal clothes now with a sling on his arm.

"How're you feeling, dude," he asked Dean.

Dean shrugged, "Fine, I guess. I'm alive."

"That's what matters," he replied.

"Where were you last night," Sam asked him. I looked at Sam. Dad had left last night?

I truly hadn't left Dean's room the night before. Any conversation with my dad was going to spark another argument, but Sam tried to keep me updated.

"I had some things to take care of."

"God, do you have a copyright on vague bullshit," I asked. I felt Dean nudge my leg with his hand. I waved him off. "Did you go after the demon?"

"No," my dad replied.

"You know, why don't I believe you right now," Sam joined in.

My dad took a few steps forward, "Can we not fight?"

Again, I rolled my eyes, looking back at Dean. Some things never changed, and my dad was the best example. Dean grabbed my hand. Quiet comfort.

"Half the time we're fighting, I don't know what we're fighting about."

I closed my eyes and looked down. How was he full of such bullshit? I didn't understand it. I felt Dean squeeze my hand. I looked over at him and nodded with a forced grin.

"Look, Sammy, (Y/n)," I looked over at him when he said my name. "I've made some mistakes. But I've always done the best I could. I just don't want to fight anymore, okay?"

"Are you alright," I asked, noticing the tears in his eyes.

"Yeah, just a little tired," he nodded. "How about you and Sammy go grab some coffee?"

I saw something in his eyes. Something different. It made me nod and stand up. I gave Dean's hand one more reassuring squeeze before nodding at Sam to follow me outside.

My dad grabbed my arm before I left. He used his good arm to hug me. I slowly hugged him back.

He muttered in my ear, "I'm sorry for earlier. I was wrong to say those things. Your mom would be so proud of the work you're doing."

I knew then that he had done something stupid.

My father's pride was too important to him to apologize at all, let alone in front of other people.

I just stepped back and grinned at him. No fighting.

Sam and I walked down the hall in silence for a while.

"He did something," I said. "Something stupid."

"Yeah... I know."

On our way back, we found our dad on the floor of his room, dead.

"Dad," we both said at the same time.

Sam ran to get help and I just fell to the ground next to him. I turned him onto his back and tried to find a pulse.

"Shit," I muttered, going to try to start chest compressions. I blinked away my tears, trying to focus. "What the hell did you do?"

I was yanked away by a few nurses. I was pushed outside where I saw Sam walking down the hall with Dean.

I must've started shaking when I saw them both.

They met me at the door, Sam pulling me into his other side.

We watched them try to revive our dad.

The flatline wasn't the scariest sound. The scariest sound was when the doctor told them to stop compressions.

And just like that, with three words, the three of us were alone.

Completely alone.

--time skip--

I made it back to D.C about a week later. I had spent a few days with my brothers at Bobby's before making the drive home.

I came back to find a bunch of flowers on my desk.

"Hotch didn't go into detail," I looked up when Garcia walked over. "He just said things had gone wrong. I thought these would be nice."

I let out a quiet sob and looked down again. Even without knowing why, she was so willing to help me.

She pulled me into a tight hug. I felt another hand on my back. I looked over at J.J. as she gave me a comforting grin. I looked over to see Morgan and Reid walking over too.

I grinned back at them.

Maybe I wasn't as alone in this as I thought.

---------------------------------

Masterlist (Includes links to All Writing Challenges)

What I Write For

Some Original Characters

[naladot]

Dasey fic recs from 2008-2010

 I’ve been procrastinating and somehow this led me down the rabbit hole of digging up old Dasey fics. Here’s a short and very random rec list of some of those. (Definitely not exhaustive; this fandom has a disproportionate number of great fics.) I provided AO3 links where they exist because, wow, fanfiction.net is decaying before our eyes.

How Emily Davis Got Her Groove Back by unoriginal_liz (43k, T); read on AO3 or fanfiction.net: "I'm beyond a Shleppette! I'm the uber-Shleppette! There are no depths to which I will not Shlep!"

This is, like, THE fic. It is even better than I remembered. Rereading it in 2021, I laughed and felt all the feelings and was utterly delighted by the whole thing. This should be required reading. Dasey is a background ship but it’s an amazing Dasey subplot. (There seems to be some issue with some missing text in the AO3 version, but it doesn’t really mess up anything but the flow.)

Tapedeck by sparzelli (6.5k, T): She experiences the most curious emotion then. She can feel something slide into place in her head, and then it’s like they’ve been this way their whole lives. It's not real, but it sort of feels like comfort. CxD

I always remember this fic for being a little angsty and having a strong atmosphere. It’s still quite vivid and a different Casey characterization than I often see/write, and the tension threaded through the fic is so good.

The Perils of Alphabetical Seating by TheBucketWoman (3k, T): "They'd agreed to be “friends” which, everyone but Casey knew, didn't mean that they would ever really be at ease with each other." Dasey and featuring, well, someone who used to be with Casey.

This is a Max POV story and it’s really well done. I love how it encapsulates a particular moment and gives such a strong feeling of high school. Dasey through someone else’s eyes is always good, too.

What We Did On Our Summer Vacation by hayseed42 (74.5k, M mostly for language): Nora said their summer trip to the country was going to be an adventure. She didn't mean it quite so literally, but when have Casey and Derek ever been any good at doing what they're told? A slow-building Dasey.

This is a fantasy adventure fic that I’ve never forgotten, but I had to do some digging to find again. It’s just as fun and fast-paced as I remembered, and with great character and ship development. (Content warning for one instance of offensive language referring to disability in Chp. 7.)

A Study in Desire by WhenLightningStrikes / youcallitwinter (1.5k, T); read on AO3 or fanfiction.net: Someone should really look into naming a pathological condition after her. 

One thing I really miss from fandom in the past was these smaller character study-type pieces. This one really achieves a lot in grounding the plot in Casey’s headspace, and the ending strikes the perfect note.

Two Ways It Could Have Happened, One Way It Did by justfallapart (700 words, K+): Two ways Derek Venturi could have met Casey McDonald, and the way he actually did.

Like I just mentioned, I miss these smaller character studies. This one explores the common agreement in this fandom that Derek Venturi fell in love first, and in just 700 words encapsulates all the angst you feel because of that.

back to the border by avocadomoon (4k, T): Casey makes the Dean's list. Derek takes up smoking.

I mean, everyone’s read this fic, right? But it was so definitive for the fandom that a Ye Olde Dasey Fic Recs post (even a short, random, and non-comprehensive one) would be incomplete without it. I still remember reading this for the first time. Each scene is so well-drawn, both perfectly connected to the show and establishing its own universe and tone. It’s efficient and elegant and amazing.

[cosmiclove-heavenstruck]

Midnight Quidditch Games | Harry Potter

Pairing: Harry Potter x Gryffindor!Reader (written with a female reader in mind, though the gender is not stated)

Wordcount: 3800 words

Warnings: none, just fluff and friends-to-lovers

Summary: Fred and George come up with the idea of hosting illegal Quidditch Games for all four houses every Friday night. Harry convinces Reader to play with him and they end up on the same broom.

a/n: No Voldemort Au, set in Harry's fifth year. English is not my native language, so there might be spelling/grammar mistakes. (Based on a headcanon by @/ murphcooper on tumblr)

Friday was my favourite day of the week, and there were two reasons for that: One, it was the start of the weekend, and two, we played Quidditch.

Up until fifth year, the most I had to do with the popular wizarding sport was cheering at the official school games for the Gryffindor team and attending the Quidditch World Cup in 1994. Then Fred and George came up with a very illegal, yet very exciting and fun idea, which was to host unofficial Quidditch games in the middle of the night that any student could attend. Whether it were First Years who could barely fly, or simple people that never made it onto their house's team, anyone was welcome.

The twins had planned it the first two months of their sixth year together with Quidditch fans from the other houses and had created lists for every common room, which wouldn't be readable by the teachers or Filch.

“It's illegal! What if something happens? What if someone gets hurt, how do you want to explain that to Dumbledore, or worse, to Professor McGonagall,” Hermione argued as soon as Fred and George had prompted their idea to us one Sunday evening.

“I'm disappointed. Do you really think we would work that sloppy?”, Fred asked.

“The house elves are in,” George explained. “Which means free food and free healthcare, all in one!”

“Awesome,” Ron said, and he should be proven right.

The only rules to attend were the duty to remain silent and to come in your pyjamas, just for the sake of it. Gryffindors and Ravenclaws would be playing against Hufflepuffs and Slytherins, Lee Jordan would be commenting as always and because Madam Hooch wasn't available, Hermione would be our judge. This was decided unanimously.

The first two games had occurred at the end of November, and they had been a complete mess. We had to raise the number of players on each team so everyone who wanted to play fit in, which led to three Keepers, six Chasers, four Beaters and two Seekers for each house. Furthermore, there had been a dozen of first years who couldn't fly yet and who had to be taught by voluntaries.

Those first two Friday nights I had spent with Lee, Hermione, Luna and Dobby on the commentary stand, cheering and eating chocolate biscuits. Once in a while, I had thrown a biscuit in the air for Harry to catch.

Because of the bone-chilling cold and pitch-black darkness brought by the Scottish winter, Fred and George had invented glass bulbs which carried bright orange, warm fire and hovered over the Quidditch pitch.

With the first Friday of December approaching, the excitement grew bigger and it was basically the only topic during every meal. Now that the rules and positions had set and the First Years could fly, we were awaiting the first serious game – as serious as playing Quidditch in pyjamas with Hermione as a judge could be.

“You have to play, too,” Harry said to me during lunch on Friday. My friends had tried all week to persuade me to play instead of only keeping Hermione company, while I had constantly declined.

“Yes, come on,” Ron agreed. “We know you can fly, you played with us this summer.”

“No, no way.” I shook my head and pulled the pumpkin juice jug closer.

“Why not?”, Harry asked, covering my glass with his hand. I raised my eyebrows, but he only grinned, which made my stomach tingle. But I glossed over the unwanted feeling and shoved his hand away.

“Because all positions are filled. And besides that, I would be a terrible Chaser,” I answered. “Or a terrible anything, really.”

“You could play as a Seeker,” Hermione suggested and poured herself a drink. “You're good at noticing details.”

“But Harry and that boy from third year are playing as Gryffindor Seeker,” I reminded her, cutting my toast in half.

“You could fly with Harry,” She said plainly. I stared at her with wide eyes. I should had known the moment I had told Hermione about my not-so-tiny crush on Harry that it had been a bad idea. Now she did what I should had expected: Trying to set me up with him.

“No, I – no.”

“But I wouldn’t mind,” Harry said. “And if you don't like it, I can drop you off at the stands again. Come on Y/N, say yes.” He nudged my shoulder, looking at me with sweetest puppy eyes. I couldn't say no to him, he knew that. I sighed.

“Fine.”

A content smile lit up on his face. “Brilliant.”

Around half past nine, we made our way out of the castle and down to the Quidditch pitch. Harry, Ron, Ginny, Fred and George, as well as a dozen other Gryffindor students had their brooms shouldered, following me and Hermione through the dimly lit corridors.

“I solemnly swear that I am up to no good,” I whispered, tapping the Marauders Map, which soon revealed Hogwarts’ grounds, ink lines flowing over the parchment. Filch was strolling around in his office, and so was Snape. McGonagall’s ink dot hovered in the East tower of the Fourth Floor. “Everything’s clear, but keep quiet,” I informed the others.

Hermione linked her arms with me.

“How are you?”, She asked, a knowing smile on her lips.

“Shut up. What was that at lunch?”

“Oh, come on, I just said what you were thinking. Everybody knows you have a thing for each other,” She said, and I quickly turned to make sure Harry was still talking to Dean and Ginny. Hermione chuckled. “I made a bet with Ginny that you will kiss after catching the Snitch together,” She added.

I swirled back around. “You what?”

“But Ginny thinks you'll snog in a broom closet afterwards.”

Before I could reply anything, Harry had caught up with us.

“What are you two whispering about?”, He asked, leaning closer so I could smell his deodorant.

“Nothing,” I said and was glad that the darkness hid my tinted cheeks. Hermione let herself fall back, leaving Harry and me alone at the front of the group.

“You're a terrible liar,” He said.

“Says you. Remember last year when we had detention with Snape –”

Harry wrapped his left arm around my shoulders, pulling me unintentionally closer, and placed his hand over my mouth to stop me from talking any further.

“You promised you'd take that to the grave.”

I grinned and pulled his hand away, though his arm stayed around me.

We made it out of the castle without any inconveniences, thanks to Peeves, who – on orders from the twins – created some chaos in the trophy room and distracted McGonagall.

We were the first to reach the pitch, and Harry unlocked the door under the stands with the key on the necklace around his neck, which led to the changing rooms and the spare brooms. Fred and George had stored the fire bulbs under a loose floorboard and were now freeing them so they could fly over the pitch. Hermione directed her wand towards the sky, sending out a Muffliato Charm, then winked at me and climbed up to the commentary stand with Lee.

In the meantime, the other houses arrived; the Hufflepuffs were followed by a tiny body of house elves carrying fast food on tablets over their heads. They spread over the stands, consorting with the students watching the game and providing them with hot meals and drinks.

“Welcome back everyone!”, Lee's voice echoed over the pitch and the crowd cheered. “And also welcome to everyone new here who wants to play or just likes to break the rules.”

“Hello from me too. We have some new players I want to introduce,” Hermione continued. “Marina Florence playing Keeper for Slytherpuff, Arthur Mitchell deputizing for Gryffinclaw’s Chaser Demelza Robbins, who is currently stationed in the hospital wing, and Y/N playing Seeker for Gryffinclaw together with Harry Potter.”

“That's ridiculous! Since when are we playing in pairs?!”, Draco yelled out of the crowd of Slytherin players.

“Since I'm making the rules, you daft idiot!”, Hermione called back, and laughing echoed over the field. Ron's language was clearly leaving a mark on her. “Now get on your brooms, everyone!”

“Make sure you don't slip off your broom in those silk pyjamas, Malfoy, ” Fred snickered loudly, and Draco held up his middle finger.

Slowly, the huge crowd of players on the pitch flew up into the air, positioning themselves on the right spots. I turned to Harry, who climbed on his broom. That was the part I had avoided to think about all afternoon: How would we fly on that thing together?

My heart drummed so loudly against my ribcage it was a miracle he couldn't hear it. We were friends, I reminded myself. And I would not ruin this friendship for the sake of some stupid feelings.

“Come on, Y/N,” Harry said, stretching out his hand. I grabbed it, and he helped me to climb onto his Firebolt, so that I was sitting in front of him. His fingers gripped around the broom stick, not very far from where I had placed my hands.

“You alright?”, He asked and I nodded.

“Brilliant,” I said, and he chuckled. He then wrapped his left arm around my waist before he kicked us off the ground and the Firebolt shot through the cold night air. My back got pressed against his chest, his knees squeezing my thighs, and out of shock, I held onto his arm around me.

I hadn't flown since last summer, and even then it had only been on Ron's old broomstick a few feet above the earth. This here was the complete opposite: Harry's Firebolt was a hundred times faster, and it barely took us three seconds to be the ones flying the highest over the stadium.

“I got you, everything's fine,” Harry said somewhere close to my ear as he had noticed my hand clenched around his arm, and a warm shiver ran down my spin. I looked down on the Quidditch pitch.

“It never looks that high when I’m down there,” I said.

“Are you afraid of heights?”, He asked, but I shook my head.

“No.” Not with you. I could feel his heart beating against my back and absently stroked over his hand on my waist, until Hermione's voice ripped me out of my thoughts.

“Okay, I want a fair game and no injuries, is that clear? And show some respect to the youngest players! Now ready, steady, GO!” With a wave of her wand, the trunk with the Quidditch balls snapped open and the Quaffle flew high into the air, followed by two Bludgers. For a short moment, I saw the Golden Snitch, then it rushed off into the darkness.

“So, what do we do now? Any secret strategies?”, I asked.

“No,” Harry answered, placing his chin on my shoulder. “We just wait and watch.”

A tingling warmth spread through my body at the subtle touch. Gently, Harry steered the broom around the pitch, while the others beneath us played.

“Katie wins the Quaffle – passes to Montgomery – Rick close to score, come on – YES, Gryffinclaw scores 10 points!”, Lee bellowed and loud applause erupted. “And Slytherpuff in possession – Blaise with the Quaffle – Josephine Gordon from Hufflepuff takes over, excellent Chaser that girl, and rather attractive – OW, I'm just stating facts!”

Hermione had smacked Lee on the back of his head.

“Anyways, Blaise in possession once again – now First Year Conan Ivory – Smith overtakes – and he scores. Ron, look at the Quaffle, not at Hermione – OW! – But Gryffinclaw still leads – Ginny overtakes – fights off some Slytherins – hey, careful Harry, Bludger coming your way –”

Harry quickly leaned over me and the Firebolt dropped a few meters, dodging the Bludger rushing over our heads. George (or Fred?) darted after the ball, calling a quick “Watch it, lovebirds!” at us, and hit the Bludger towards a Slytherin Chaser.

The other twin was close behind, shouting “Less snogging, more seeking!”

“Shut it!”, I yelled. For Merlin's sake, did everyone knew about my crush? Was it really that obvious for everyone except Harry? Not that I wanted him to find out – he would be embarrassed, he didn't think of us as anything other than friends.

Harry's arm slipped from my waist and he cleared his throat, but a broomstick did not provide much space, wherefore his chest was still pressed against my back and I could feel his rather fast heartbeat.

“Do you, uhm... want me to drop you off?”, He asked.

“Oh. Uh, no,” I said, trying to turn so I could face him, “I like it, but if you want to –”

“No! No, I just thought...” Harry’s eyes danced over my face like they had never before and we were quite close.

“ – Applebee has the Quaffle - and that's a score! Sixty to sixty!”, Lee called, and Hermione blew her silver whistle. I ripped my eyes off of Harry and looked down to the commentary stand. “Now, we’re gonna have a short break, because Dobby thinks you're gonna starve otherwise. All the first and second years are asked to go back to their dorms, because it's almost midnight – don't complain to me –”

Harry carefully steered his Firebolt back to the ground where he landed near Ron and Ginny. I climbed off and was glad to be spared an awkward conversation, because Ginny grabbed my arm and pulled me to the side of the pitch. The sudden loss of Harry's warm chest made me shiver.

“Now, have you ever thought about making out in a broom closet?”, She asked, a mischievous grin on her reddened face. I rolled my eyes at her.

“Hermione told me about the bet, so don't even try! No one's gonna make out in a broom closet,” I said.

“Except you and Harry,” Ginny replied. I opened my mouth to talk back, but was interrupted.

“What’s going on with you and Harry?” Cho had caught up to us, snatching a plate with fish and chips from a tablet an house elf carried through the crowd. “I have watched you, it's adorable, honestly.”

“First off, there's nothing to be adorable,” I said and stole a fry from her plate, “and second, you are supposed to watch the Snitch, not us.”

“So is Harry, but he only has eyes for you.” Cho smiled and tapped my nose with her finger. Ginny giggled and ate a piece of fried fish. In the same moment, Hermione breathlessly jogged up to us.

“What – were – you – waiting – for?”, She panted. I furrowed my brows.

“Huh?” Hermione sighed and shook her head.

“You were this close to kiss him, why didn't you do anything?”

“Is my love life this much more interesting the Quidditch game?!”

All three girls answered “Yes” in union.

“But he doesn't feel the same way for me!”, I argued. “We are friends –”

Ginny grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me around. “Do friends look at each other that way? I don’t think so.”

Harry stood a few feet away with Ron, Seamus and Dean, though he seemed not to listen to their conversations and instead stared over at us. At me. When he realised he had been caught, he waved shyly and almost spilled his pumpkin juice. I waved back at him before turning to the girls again, all of whom were looking temporising at me.

“Oh, I – I don't know. Even if you're right, I can't just kiss him out of nowhere on his broom.”

“No, you gotta snog him in a broom closet so I get my Galleon,” Ginny said smugly, and Hermione nudged her with her elbow and looked at her watch, before blowing her whistle again.

“Everyone back on their positions, break's over!” Then Hermione shot me a serious look. “Get the boy, we're all done of you pining over one another. Ron can get the other boys to crash somewhere else, if you need the dorm.”

“Hermione!”, I gasped, but she was already rushing back to the commentary stand.

“Good luck,” Cho said, and Ginny winked. I glared at them before making my way over to where the Gryffindor boys stood. I saw how Ron said something to Harry, patted his shoulder and flew off.

Harry turned to me, smiling. His hair was even messier than usual due to the wind, and he had put on a black hoodie over his pyjamas. He looked cute and hot at the same time, and I couldn't quite believe that he was supposed to like me back.

“Do you want to – or?”, He asked.

“Yeah,” I smiled and he got on his Firebolt, making space in front of him for me.

“Good. I mean –” He cleared his throat as I climbed on his broom. The next second, we were high up in the air, his chest against my back again.

“Okay, guys, game's on again! Go!”, Hermione shouted and waved her wand at the Quaffle, which flew upwards and was caught by Ginny instantly.

“And we're back – Katie passes the Quaffle to Valentina – She flawlessly dodges a Bludger – Back to Peters, almost made it onto the Ravenclaw team – and he scores! SEVENTY TO SIXTY.”

I took a deep breath and leaned back against Harry, watching the game unfold. He propped his chin back onto my right shoulder, like an unspoken routine.

“I think I'm gonna play again next Friday,” I said out of the blue.

“Really?”, He asked, sounding surprised. I smiled. The crowd underneath us cheered.

“Yes. If you save me a place on your broomstick.” I turned to look at him, and he smiled brightly at me. We were as close as earlier, maybe even closer. I held my breath, until I noticed something small and golden buzzing through the air behind Harry, illuminated by one of the fire bulbs.

“There!” I pointed at the Golden Snitch, and Harry's head spun around to assure himself.

“Do you trust me?”, He asked.

“Of course,” I replied. Instantly, his hand was back around my waist and he yanked the Firebolt around.

“ – Seamus throws the Quaffle to Dean – Dean passes Nott – and he scores! NINTHY TO EIGHTY FOR GRYFFINCLAW! And Potter seems to have spotted the Snitch, Draco, Cedric and Cho close behind – Come on, show them what that Firebolt can do!”, Lee's voice roared from somewhere deep down, but my eyes were glued onto the Snitch: It whirred through the ice cold December air and up to the left ring of the Slytherpuff team.

Malfoy had almost caught up to us; even though the Firebolt was the fastest broomstick on the market, it was obviously slower when carrying two people instead of one.

The Snitch twirled around the pole, then dropped down and headed for the floor. Harry followed, and now we where almost vertically flying downwards. Because of the sudden shift of direction, I swore loudly and clenched my hands tighter around the broom.

“I won't let you fall, I promise,” Harry called over air rushing past us.

“I know, but a warning would have been nice!”, I yelled back, and he chuckled.

The weight of two people on one broomstick also meant that we got dragged downwards way faster, which meant we were outdistancing Malfoy. The Golden Snitch took a sharp right turn and now buzzed two meters above the ground to the other side of the pitch.

“You have to catch it!”, Harry yelled.

“WHAT? No, I can't –”

“Yes, you can! I have to steer!” And hold you. But he did not say that. I swore under my breath and carefully loosened one hand from the broomstick, stretching it forward. The Snitch was inches away from my fingertips and I pushed myself up, Harry's grip around my mid tightening. The silver wings touched my fingers, I stretched my arm further and in the same moment my hands clasped around the tiny, golden ball, we fell forward.

“ – And that doesn't look – Oh, Potter and Y/L/N are on the ground. I can't really see, if someone caught the Snitch –”

As one tangled mess, we landed on the frozen lawn, rolling over one another and stopping with Harry half on top of me. My whole body ached and I would definitely get bruises from the fall, but that was something I could worry about later. I caught the Snitch!

“Shit, sorry, fuck. Y/N, are you alright?” Harry's face hovered over me, a bloody scratch on his cheek. I grinned happily and held up the golden ball.

“Yeah, more than alright.”

“Y/N caught the Snitch! TWOHUNDRED AND FORTY TO EIGHTY! Gryffinclaw wins!”, Lee bellowed and the crowd cheered and applauded loudly. Harry held out one hand to help me up, and I took it.

“I'm sorry, I know I promised, but I couldn't hold you any longer and –”

“Shut up.” I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him full on the lips. My hands found their way into his raven hair, and he hugged my waist, pulling me so tightly his fingers almost touched his own rips with the opposite hand. I kissed him, and he was kissing me back; it felt like someone had lit a firework in my heart, and for one marvellous moment, we were the only two people in the whole wide world.

Then the other players landed on the field, and we broke apart, catching our breaths. We were both grinning, and I felt drunk from the cold night and catching the Snitch and kissing Harry.

The raven haired boy bent down to kiss me once more, this time softer, and he intertwined our fingers before leading us over to our friends, where Ginny flicked a Galleon into Hermione's open hand.

“Took you long enough,” Ron said, who had both his and Harry's broomstick shouldered.

“Well, they got around in the end,” Cho added, leaning against Cedric, his chin propped on her head. “Sleepover at the Ravenclaw dorm?”, She added, and we all nodded in agreement.

While Fred, George and Lee collected the fire bulbs and Quidditch balls, and the house elves cleaned up the dirt with a snap of their fingers, we made our way back to the Hogwarts castle:

Ron alongside Hermione, followed by Seamus and Dean arm-in-arm, Cho with Cedric, one arm around her waist, Ginny carrying a tired Luna on her back, and lastly, Harry and me, holding hands.

“You know, I'm glad I agreed to play with you,” I said. Harry smiled.

“Yeah, me too.” He pressed a kiss on my cheek. In spite of the shivering cold, I had never felt more warm and comfortable than in this moment.

[thebloggerbloggerfun]

@jellydeans: so are cas and jimmy novak just up in heaven existing at the same time @katebushstandean: #jimmy moves to heaven timbuku so that dean stops trying to make out with him every time they run into each other at the heaven grocery store

LINK

Thanks for letting me write this, guys!!

AO3  (2.1k)

The thing about Heaven was that it was whatever you wanted it to be, and most of its residents wanted it to be familiar.

Technically, Dean didn’t need to fill his car up on gas anymore, but there was still a gas station just down the street from where his new home was placed. He didn’t need to sleep, but he still had a large king-sized bed he made sure to make use of at least once a day. He didn’t need to eat, but there was a thriving supermarket that catered to whatever he was feeling like eating and always boasted the freshest ingredients for when he wanted to get a little fancy with his cooking.

Like today, for example.

Bobby had said he doubted Dean could make a proper souffle, so obviously Dean had to make the old man eat his words - and a souffle.

Dean stared at all of the different options of eggs, trying to decide if “free-range” vs. “organic” actually meant anything in Heaven, or if it was just meant to give him some sort of familiarity.

He grabbed the “free-range” option and moved on to the dairy.

There was movement out of the corner of his eye in the meat section across the way, and the way his heart stopped in his chest when he turned to look would have killed him if he wasn’t already dead.

It was Cas.

Cas, who Dean had spent every day thinking about since he’d left. Cas, who Dean had been trying to find ever since Bobby told him he was still around. Cas, who Dean still had unfinished business with.

He’d spend hours in bed, staring at the ceiling of his room and rehearsing just what he’d say when he saw him again, but in those scenarios Cas had shown up on his doorstep or in the passenger seat of his car where they could have a moment to just be .

He’d never been buying hamburger meat.

Dean rushed forward, cart forgotten, and skidded to a halt in front of Cas, just as he looked up in surprise.

“I love you -” Dean said in a rush, heart pounding, head reeling, “Of course I love you. You’re - fuck - you’re everything I could ever want and I’m - I’m so damn sorry if I made you feel like you couldn’t have me, too.”

Cas blinked at him, and it was in that moment Dean realized something was wrong.

His expression, his hair, the way he moved, the way he was dressed - all of it was wrong.

None of it was Cas, he’d just been too overwhelmed to see it.

“Oh, uh... hey Dean,” Not-Cas said, and finished putting his selected meat in his basket, “I didn’t didn’t know that you died. Um, if you’re looking for Castiel -“

Dean turned and ran out of the store.

*

What were the fucking chances that in all of Heaven, he and Cas’s old vessel were neighbors?

Dean gunned the gas pedal on his car as he drove endlessly, trying to walk himself through what exactly had happened the day before.

Jimmy Novak was here.

Jimmy Novak who - last Dean checked - hated him.

Dean had just spewed his feelings all over him without even thinking about the possibility that he wasn’t Cas. He’d been wearing a sweater vest for crying out loud - but he was willing to forgive himself for that one because he didn’t really know how Cas would dress if he had the choice.

His hopes had soared so high when he’d seen the familiar figure, only to be dashed the moment Jimmy had opened his mouth. They sounded absolutely nothing alike - and Dean yearned for the deep gravel of Castiel’s greeting.

Dean’s grip on the wheel tightened.

Where was Cas?

Didn’t he know that there was nothing keeping them apart now?

In what could only be an act of fate smiling down on him, Dean zoomed around a corner near the Heavenly library, and instantly had to stomp on the brakes of the Impala as a trenchcoat-clad figure stepped into the previously empty crosswalk.

Old habits die hard - Dean was still going to brake for Heavenly pedestrians, especially ones that looked like Cas.

Cas turned to look at him, eyes wide, and Dean shoved the driver’s side door open in a panic. The trench coat was unmistakable this time.

“Cas! Cas - don’t go okay? I gotta -“

Cas shook his head sharply and let out a breath.

“No - Jesus Christ - it’s still me, you idiot.”

Dean gaped at him as his brain tried to catch up with the conflicting bits of information it was processing.

“...what?” He heard himself saying.

Had he just wanted it to be Cas so bad that he’d ignored all the signs?

Jimmy gestured at himself like it was enough of an explanation.

“Uh. Yeah.”

“But - but you’re wearing his trenchcoat! ” Dean said, waved at it like maybe Jimmy hadn’t realized he was walking around as the mockery of the angel who’d once shared a living space with him.

Jimmy placed an affronted hand on his own chest.

“It was my trenchcoat!”

Frustration boiled inside of him and Dean quickly slid back into the car and slammed the door shut behind him.

He sped off, once again running from what could have been.

*

Dean was sulking under a pile of blankets in his bed when there was a knock at his door.

He ignored it.

After a few moments of silence, the knocking came again, louder and more insistent this time.

Grumbling to himself, Dean threw the blankets off and trudged down the stairs, flinging open the door with a scowl.

A person with nearly combed hair was standing on the doorstep holding a six-pack of beer in one hand and had a sticker on his shirt that said, ‘Hello, my name is Jimmy’.

“Very funny.” Dean said flatly.

“It’s not funny. It’s just in case you try to kiss me or something.” Jimmy held up the six-pack expectantly. “Can I come in?”

Dean didn’t appreciate the ribbing, but he didn’t mind the beer.

And after accosting him twice he might as well let the guy do what he wanted.

“Yeah, whatever.” Dean grumbled and left the door open as he walked back inside and flopped onto his couch. “Why are you here? Don’t you hate me?”

Jimmy hummed as he set the beer down on the coffee table and took a seat opposite Dean.

“I don’t not hate you.” He said with a shrug. “But last time we talked you were trying to convince me to chain myself to a comet again and I can’t say I appreciated it.”

Dean grunted in acknowledgment.

“I’ve been in heaven for a while now. It’s nice here. I take a yoga class with my wife.” Jimmy smiled at him. “I think I’m in a much better mental space now to consider liking you, especially if we’re going to be neighbors.”

Dean winced.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to like Jimmy, it was just… that was Cas’s face. It wasn’t , but it was. Was he really going to have to be constantly taunted with it?

“Look man - I’m sorry about - you know. That.” Dean waved a hand in the air generally. “But you don’t have to do all this. I’ll stop harassing you.”

“That would be nice,” Jimmy said, opening one of the cans and taking a swig, “So, considering the things you’ve said to me, I take it he finally told you he loved you?”

Dean paused, still raw every time he thought about it.

“You knew?”

Jimmy smirked.

“That angel’s love for you permeated both of our beings so potently I’m amazed I don’t love you.” Jimmy said, like it was the kind of fact you could drop casually. “Though even I will admit, as a happily married heterosexual man, that having a man as handsome as you proclaim your love to me in the middle of a grocery store was very exciting.”

Dean dropped his head into his hands and groaned loudly.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it,” Jimmy said, “That first one was pretty good. I’m sure he’s going to love it.”

“He’s never gonna hear it.” Dean muttered.

“Sure he will. You’ve already practiced it twice.”

“I can’t find him!” Dean said, and looked back up, “He’s here somewhere, and I can’t find him. It’s killing me.”

Jimmy held out a beer can.

“Good thing you’re already dead.”

Begrudgingly, Dean accepted the beer and opened it.

“I just. . . I just wanna see him again.” Dean took a long drink. “I want to talk to him. Tell him everything. Share everything. If he wants that.”

Dean let out a long breath, expecting Jimmy to interject with a quip.

He looked over at him when nothing happened, and Jimmy was smiling at him in a way that Dean could only describe as ‘fond’.

“What?” Dean said, indignantly.

“Nothing.” Jimmy said innocently. “You’re just not what I expected.”

Dean looked away.

“Anyway, you asked why I’m here,” Jimmy took another drink, “I’ve seen Castiel.”

“What?” Dean jumped to his feet, beer can dropped to the floor and forgotten about. “Why didn’t you lead with that?”

“I’m an enigma,” Jimmy shrugged a shoulder and leaned back against the plush chair, “Anyway, I wanted to let you know as someone who has literally been in Castiel’s head - I'm pretty sure I know the reason he’s not showing himself to you.”

“Well, fucking spill.”

Jimmy paused.

“Why do you love him?”

Of all the things Dean had been expecting Jimmy to say - this wasn’t it.

Dean sat back down.

“Why?” He asked, a little breathless. “Why does it matter?”

Jimmy shrugged again.

“I guess -” Dean said, trying to unspool his emotions from the knot they’d made in his heart, “He’s - he’s Cas. He cares . . . so much about everyone and - and he’s selfless and kind and he fucking saved me in more ways than just one. He’s always been there for me and Sam and he’s just… he’s just. He’s just good . I’ll never deserve him, but I want to try.”

Dean sucked in a deep breath.

“He pulls me away from the edge, man. I just love him.”

Jimmy nodded once, set down his beer can, and in a bizarre turn of events, began yelling at Dean’s ceiling.

“Did you hear that, Castiel? Not one goddamn thing about how you look! Nothing about me or my vessel!”

Dean stared, dumbfounded.

“Wh-”

“He doesn’t care what you look like! Can you please just come talk to him so I can stop playing marriage counselor for you two?”

Care how he - what?  

What was happening?

Before Dean could fully compile all of the new information, there was a hesitant knock at the front door.

Dean whipped his head towards Jimmy, who was smiling in satisfaction.

Nearly tripping over himself, Dean rushed to the door faster than he’d rushed towards anything in his life, and swung it open.

In front of him was the wavelength of celestial intent that Dean had always known existed inside of the vessel of Jimmy Novak - the glint of angelic creation he’d caught glimpses of in the glow of his eyes and in his healing touch. The being was massive and stretched high into the sky with what was (maybe three? four??) pairs of wings scraping the clouds even further above everything. He was flaming rings and rotating divine faces that Dean could barely comprehend - he was raw power and all-knowing eyes.

On the front of his form was a sticker that read, ‘Hello, my name is Castiel’.  

“. . . Hello Dean.” The voice rumbled through the air like thunder.

“Cas?” Dean said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“I - yes. I’m sorry. I lost my vessel to the Empty - this was the only way -”

“I love you, too.”

The rotating faces on the form towering above him froze in place.

“I do! I love you, Cas. Okay? You didn’t let me say it back before - and if I’ve ever made you feel like I couldn’t love you back, I’m so fucking sorry. You deserve better.”

“. . . you love me?”

Dean nodded, his heart clenching at the disbelief he could hear in Cas’s voice.

“ Even as this?”

“You’ve always been this.” Dean swallowed. “I fell in love with the angel, not the vessel.”

“Dean. . .”

Dean smiled up at him in understanding.

“Just a shame that we’ll have to get a bigger house.”

“Oh I can -”

And as Dean looked on, Castiel began to shrink. The form didn’t change - he was still as striking as he’d been the first time with his wings and halos and faces still firmly in place - but he was now maybe one foot taller than Dean instead of one hundred.

“- make myself more manageable.”

Dean grinned and took a step forward, giddy and thrilled that this was finally, actually happening

He reached up, resting a hand on one of the divine faces.

“Bite-sized.” He murmured fondly.

Jimmy’s voice cut through the moment from somewhere behind them.

“Just so you two know - I. Am. Moving!”

[wormstacheangel]

For The Girl Who Has Everything

Masterpost link for Reelin’ In The Years: Here

AO3 Link: Here

wc: 2.4k Summary:  Claire is too mad to even look at Cas let alone talk to him. Dean knew he had to step up because two people with messed up childhoods and anger issues really need to spend more time together talking about their feelings.

When Chuck was defeated, a lot of people came to the bunker to celebrate. Those times were a big blur to Dean, his focus was on finding a way to save Cas, and it wasn’t until he saw Claire run down those steps that the world focused again. She smiled at him, a rare big grin, before her arms wrapped around his neck to bring him down for a hug with an intoxicating giggle.

‘She didn’t know,’ Dean thought as his arms hung loosely at his sides.

He hid his face in her curls, not knowing how to face another kid Cas left behind because of him. He was holding his breath when she pulled away to look at him. Her eyebrows were raised in a question that Dean didn’t hear. Didn’t want to hear.

She repeated it, “Dude, where’s Cas? Is the old man sleeping or something?”

‘Yes.’ Dean swallowed the hard lump in his throat.

He didn’t look at the audience around them when he finally opened his mouth to say, “Claire, Ca—” He couldn’t say his name. He felt like it would tear the fragile wall that was keeping him on his feet if he did. “I’m sorry.”

Dean watched as her face twisted into confusion, understanding, and then settling into anger.

She was trying to fight the tears, but they fell as she yelled, “No! No, you were—Where were you? Why didn’t you protect him?”

“He protected me. He—he saved me.”

She looked at him with round eyes, shaking her head as if not wanting to believe it.

“Then it should’ve been you! You should’ve died! Not him!” Dean flinched at the words that have been echoing in his head since that night. “It’s not fair!”

Claire’s angry fist collided with his chest. He flinched at every hit but didn’t back away as her punches became sporadic but still filled with grief. Maybe even guilt.

“I’m sorry.” Dean knew those words did nothing to comfort, but he couldn’t help but say them. “I’m so sorry, Claire.”

She screamed in frustration until her punches weakened, and he was holding her. Then, finally, she fell against him, her face hidden in his chest as her grip tightened on his shirt.

She didn’t stay after that.

She walked back up the stairs with Jody and Kaia following behind her. Jack tried to talk to her, but she couldn’t even look at him. Dean couldn’t blame her.

It’s hard to look at the kid when he reminded them of the person they lost.

Of course, Dean never told Cas any of this.

Since coming back, Cas had been dealing with the silent treatment from the killer Barbie. She only replied with the thumbs-up emoji, and when Cas was too much, she responded with the middle finger emoji. A little warning advising Cas to back off.

She only visited him once, but that was when Cas was in the hospital. She freaked out, yelled at him for being stupid, and then passed out by his bed only to leave the next morning like nothing ever happened. Still, it made Cas feel a little better knowing she still cared, but she was dealing with it her way. Or, as Cas liked to say, she was dealing with feelings the Dean Winchester way. Of course, he’ll argue it wasn’t true, but he knows he won’t win that one.

Now he was sitting awkwardly in Jody’s living room watching Kaia and Patience play with Jack on the floor while Claire and Cas had a yelling match in the privacy of the backyard. Well, Claire was yelling while Cas was trying very hard to keep his tone even, which only made Claire angrier.

“I’m done talking to you!” Claire slid the glass door open and stormed through the living room.

“Then try listening to me!” Cas followed behind her, watching as she walked straight past the living room and towards the front door. “Claire. Claire, where are you going?”

She whipped around to glare daggers at Cas, eyes wide filled with tears, but she still looked at him with a pained grimace. “Did you even think of me? When you were out there being a damn hero. Did you-Did you think of me?” Her voice breaking on the last word made Dean flinch.

“Claire, of course-”

“No. No, of course, you didn’t. Cause if you did, then you wouldn’t have-” She bit her cheek as tears started to fall. She stood tall, presenting as strong, as her expression hardened. “You left me, Castiel. And now I-I don’t,” She looked around the room. It was quiet as everyone watched the interaction before her eyes landed on a little Jack in Kaia’s arms. She clicked her tongue before turning back to the door. “I’m leaving.”

“Claire.” Cas tried following her, but Dean quickly rushed up to stop him. “Dean. I may not have my strength, but I will-”

“Calm down, Rocky,” Dean had a hand on Cas’s shoulder to stop him. “I just wanted to stop you from making it worse.”

“I don’t think I can. She hates me.”

“She doesn’t.” He assures his boyfriend with a little smile, but Cas simply rolled his eyes at him. “Okay, you stay here. Talk to your son, and I’ll go talk to the other kid.”

“Oh yeah? What are you going to say to her?”

“I don’t know, but like you said before. Two fuck up’s just understand each other.”

“I didn’t say-”

“Yeah. Yeah. Just let me handle this. You trust me, right?”

Cas made a face at that, not answering quickly enough before he said, “Just bring her home.”

“Gee. Thanks for the confidence, babe.”

Dean ran after Claire, forcing his way to her passenger side as she started to back up on the driveway.

“Thanks for waiting, kid. Where we going?” Dean buckled up just in time for Claire to slam the breaks. Unfortunately, he hit his head on the front dash because the damn seat was scooted forward, his knees were practically pressed against his chest, which made sense knowing a tiny Kaia would usually occupy the seat. “Ow.”

“You aren’t going anywhere. Get out.”

Dean ignored her scary and oddly familiar glare as he pushed the seat back so his legs could fit. “Oh, come on. My treat.”

She didn’t have time to argue because Cas walked out of the front door—his trust in him really was lacking—and Claire decided that dealing with Dean was much easier than having to talk to Cas again. But, of course, he would take that as a compliment.

Claire drove with loud rocker girl music vibrating the windows and didn’t stop until she finally parked outside some ice cream shop.

“I want a shake.” She sniffled, and Dean did his best to ignore her red blotchy eyes for her sake.

“Sure, kid.”

They drank their shakes and shared some fries while sitting on top of Claire’s ugly little red. Well, she sat, and he leaned, but either way, silence remained.

He didn’t want to pressure her to talk—she would probably lie if he did—but still, he wanted to ease the tension between Cas and her, salvage a relationship he knew was important to both of them, but he didn’t know where to start.

Maybe he could start with his own guilt.

“I’m sorry.” He cleared his throat as he felt the smooth ice cream start to turn to gum down his throat. He looked down at his shake, lifting the straw up and down to hear the gloppy sound while trying to figure out what to say to her.

She hummed, “‘bout what?”

“Not telling you. About Cas. What happened to him.” He sighed and looked back at her. “Sorry. I should have called, but I wasn’t—I was a mess. I couldn’t be there for you. I couldn’t even be there for Jack. I should have-”

“It’s okay.” She waved her hand up to stop him. “I-I get it. I mean, it’s not, but whatever.”

“So, are you gonna tell me why you’re mad?”

She rolled her eyes, once again the gesture was familiar, before slamming the shake on the hood and sliding off the car. She crossed her arms over her chest, looking so small as she kicked a pebble on the floor.

“He replaced me.”

Her voice was quiet. Almost like she didn’t want to admit it out loud.

“I know it’s stupid and-and I’m acting like a child, but…” She quickly sniffled again before running her hand through her hair nervously. Looking up to stare into the darkening sky, acting like everything was okay. “He’s not my Dad, but he’s the closest thing I have, and I just thought—I just thought that maybe he felt the same way.”

She shrugged, her lips pinching together as if trying to hold something back, before retaking control of her expression. A glare directed towards Dean replaced the lost child stare into the stars, but the lost child was still there.

“Kid…” Dean sighed, head scrambling for words.

“I’m not a kid.”

“You’ll always be a kid to me.”

Claire teased with a little smirk. She definitely learned this from Dean or Jody. “Whatever you say, old man.”

“Old—Claire.” She let out a breath of a laugh before rolling her eyes away from Dean. “I’m trying to be serious. Cas… he loves you. He-he loves you like you were his own.” She didn’t look at him, but he could see her face scrunch up, ready to argue. “He worries about you constantly, and Jack knows all about you because he won’t shut up about how awesome you are.”

“He says that? He says I’m awesome?”

“Well, awesome is my word, but you get the gist.” He turns to face her even though she doesn’t meet his gaze. “Cas may not be your Dad, but he loves you like a daughter. Sometimes—yeah, a lot of the time actually—he makes stupid decisions, but it’s cause he is trying his best. And he cares. That dumbass cares way too much about the damn world, but he’s also someone who would give up the whole world if it meant keeping you safe.”

“Stop making excuses for him!”

“Claire, you gotta believe me. He didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She finally turned to look at him. “But he did. He hurt me! He left me!”

“He left me too!” Dean raised his voice; it sounded broken to admit such a thing out loud. And to Claire of all people. He slumped down against the car again and looked at the ground to ignore her big blue eyes throwing sympathy glares his way. “He left me—more times than you know. And—and don’t tell anyone I told you this—but I…I was scared. Each goddamn time I’m scared that this may be it! That this time…this time he won’t come back to me.”

“But he did.” Her voice sounded so far away.

“Yeah. Had to work a little bit harder on my end, but I got him.” He reached over and patted her shoulder. “We got him back.”

Something in the way her eyes went cold and far away made his fight drain out. He didn’t know what else he could do or say, but he opened his arms just in time to have her fall against him. His face mushed into her curls while he hugged her tight into his chest.

“Were you mad at Cas?”

Dean thought about it for a second. “No. I mean, I was at first. That asshole got himself killed over and over again. Leaving me alone.”

“But you had Sam. Jack.”

“Yeah,” Dean pulled back and looked down at her. “Well, you had Jody. Kaia. Alex. Patience and even Donna. Made it any easier for you?”

“No.”

“No.” He chuckled while she hid her face from him, asking him to continue. “But I was mad at him. Real fucking pissed, actually. At him. At…at everyone. Sam and Jack didn’t even wanna be near me.” He tries to shake off those dark memories of screaming and feeling nothing but agonizing loneliness. “I just shut down and gave up on…a lot of things because he was gone. Couldn’t really see a point, you know?”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

“I get why you’re mad, Claire. Trust me, I do, but he’s back now.”

“And I’m just supposed to forgive him? Did you just forgive him?”

Dean shrugged, looking back down at her sad baby blues. Hoping she would understand and that she won’t tease him about it later on. “I didn’t want to waste any time being mad at him. I love him too much.”

“Gross.” She pushed him away this time, tucking her hair behind her ear before smiling at him. It reminded him of Jack’s little shy smile. “But I-I think you’re right. Maybe I’m done wasting time.”

They drove back with the music luckily a little lower but Dean just watched Claire drive with a growing smile on his face. He’s gonna have to admit that Cas was right, two messed up people can really relate and help each other out.

When they walked into the house, Dean took Jody from marching over to Claire to lecture her. “Just wait,” he whispered to her, and luckily she listened to him. They both held their breath as Claire walked over to Cas—who looked like he had been sitting in that seat freaking out since they left—and asked if they could try talking outside again. He blinked up at her a few times before nodding, following her to the backyard again.

Everyone let out a sigh of relief when the glass door closed behind them.

“Dean.” He looked up towards his kid, who reached for him from Kaia’s arms on the couch. Dean quickly walked over to pick him up, pressing a kiss to his head while trying not to let guilt eat at him. “Is Dad okay?”

“Don’t worry, bud.” Dean watched Jack’s eyes that showed how much he has experienced, how much he understood. “He’ll be fine.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

On the drive back, Cas had a smile plastered across his face. They hadn’t had a chance to talk about what happened, considering Cas walked in, ready to introduce Jack to Claire. Then Cas spent the rest of the night watching his kids getting along, looking the happiest Dean had seen him in a really long time.

“So, what did you and Claire talk about?”

Cas hummed before looking up at Dean as if just remembering that he was there. “Oh. Um, she just made me promise her something.”

“And what’s that?”

“Same thing I promised you. Don’t get dead anymore.”

“Oh. Good. Keep that promise.”

“I’ll do my best.” Cas looked back at Jack before he leaned over and pressed a kiss on Dean’s cheek. “I have a lot to live for now. A family.”

A family. Yeah.

Dean took a peek at Jack with the mirror and then watched as Cas changed his phone background pic to one of Claire spinning Jack around in the living room.

They were a real family.

[thisisapaige]

insi(de an)d outside

Link to Ao3. Rated M. [Now multi-chaptered and complete!]

A trap created just for Him. How kind of Dean to make it. 

Castiel answered the prayer. How could He not after Dean so sweetly requested His presence? Castiel obliged Dean, standing directly in the circle of holy fire, set up in the centre of the abandoned warehouse. Dean lit his lighter and dropped it to the floor as soon as Castiel landed. 

Castiel smiled. His Dean— His defiant, determined Dean— was ever the hero. Dean never gave in without a fight, without exhausting every plan and trying every angle. It was so human of him. Castiel could not help but love him for it. 

"Surely you know holy fire cannot hold a God?" Castiel asked.

"You know me." The flames flickered across Dean's face, casting shadows over the hollows of his cheeks. "I had to try."

"Of course," Castiel said, moving to the edge of the fire, "you wouldn't be you if you hadn't."

Dean approached the circle, drawn in by Castiel's gaze. He moved as close to the flames as he could, never breaking Castiel's stare. Sweat beaded on Dean's brow from the heat of the holy fire. The air shimmered between them. 

Dean's heart beat rapidly— a bit of fear and a bit of something more— at a faster pace than the two hearts outside the door. Those hearts belonged to Sam and Bobby. Their rhythm had grown familiar to Castiel throughout their time together during the Apocalypse. Back then, His grace had been so weak He could only note the patterns. Now, he knew that Sam had consumed large amounts of caffeine that day and Bobby's blood pressure was extremely elevated. Both of them were rather stressed. 

Neither Sam nor Bobby were as stressed as Dean, whose blood carried alcohol— not a lot, at least for Dean— and substances to keep him awake. Castiel squinted, looking closer, looking inside. Dean had not slept in days. 

"Losing sleep?" Castiel asked. "You should take better care of yourself. You're human. You need to rest."

"I would," Dean said, "but you have to stop what you're doing first."

"Why?" Castiel tilted his head, trying to find the meaning behind Dean's wide eyes. "I'm doing this for you. It's a gift."

A laugh escaped Dean's mouth, high-pitched and humourless. "Yeah. Killing people. Exactly what I want. Thanks." 

Castiel detected sarcasm. "They were sinners."

"They were people."

Castiel raised his hand. Dean flinched. Castiel did not want that. He would never hurt Dean. 

With a flick of His wrist, Castiel doused the flames. The smoke hissed, the arid scent filling the building. Calm and collected, Castiel walked forward. He knew Dean held a blade in his hand. He also knew it would not harm Him. For every step Castiel took forward, Dean stepped back. 

"Then tell me what you want," Castiel said, soft and serene. 

"I want you to stop," Dean said.

"You don't understand." Castiel sighed and clicked his tongue. "You don't understand what it's like to have all this power inside you. I can see things— understand things— you could never comprehend."  

Dean hit the wall behind him. The shock made him gasp and lose his grip on the blade. It clattered against the concrete floors, far out of his grasp. Castiel pinned Dean against the wall, intrigued by the way his eyes darkened when he looked up at Castiel. Dean's heart beat faster, his blood flowed to the organ between his legs, and his breaths became rapid and shallow. Arousal. Always arousal and never love. One day, Castiel would succeed in eliciting both. 

"I can show you," Castiel whispered, running a finger down the slope of Dean's jaw, "what it's like to have all this inside you. The clarity. The relief." Castiel ran his thumb over Dean's bottom lip. "All I need is your permission." 

Dean's tongue darted out, teasing the tip of Castiel's thumb, before Dean clamped his mouth shut and swallowed. Dean shook his head.

"A shame." Castiel ran his hand down Dean's throat, feeling the heat on his skin, and rest his palm on Dean's heart. It beat for Castiel. He could tell. "I won't hurt you. You know this." Castiel flicked his eyes to the door. "Otherwise, you would have cried for help."

Of course, Dean followed Castiel's gaze. One day, Dean would follow more. Dean pursed his lips and returned his attention to Castiel, his eyes shining and his pupils blown wide. He said nothing, but he did not have to. His body spoke for him. 

Want.

"Be not afraid." Castiel pressed closer to Dean, feeling the lines of his body, feeling him hard against Him. "I can give you whatever you want. I want to give it to you." Castiel rocked his hips and Dean groaned, rolling his head back against the wall. So much vulnerable skin exposed by that simple action, ripe for Castiel's taking. However, He will not take it. Not yet. "All you have to do is ask."

"Cas..."

Castiel enjoyed the way Dean said his name, breathless and needy, but it was not an invitation. Castiel required a clear 'yes' from His Dean, a complete and voluntary submission made from Dean's own free will. Castiel wanted all of Dean— inside and outside— and He would accept nothing less.

"You're not ready." Castiel pulled back, just enough to let Dean breathe. "That's okay. It takes time to accept it."

"Cas." Dean licked his lips. "Cas, just—"

"It's okay, Dean." Castiel made a soothing noise. He pushed Dean's hair back from his forehead, His touch soft and gentle. "You're not ready yet."

"Cas." Dean reached out, grabbing the lapels of Castiel's trench coat. "Cas, just come back to me."

Castiel looked down at those human hands. They should do nothing to hold down God, yet Castiel craved their touch. One day, He would have them. He knew that with the full certainty of God.

"Dean," Castiel said, caressing the name with his tongue, "you already have me. You always have."

There were so many things Dean never put into words. Castiel could hear them now, hidden within Dean's slow blink. Dean had not known. Dean had not known of Castiel's devotion. Dean always wanted— Dean always needed— but he had not known that Castiel would have given it.

"You held back." Castiel hummed, assessing the flutter of Dean's eyelids. "You not ready yet. That is fine. When you are, I'm a prayer away." He tangled His fingers in Dean's hair and leaned in close. "I always come when you call."

Castiel placed a kiss upon Dean's forehead, sending a soft thrum of His grace with it. It contained all of Castiel's faith, love, and devotion. He needed His Dean to understand. Castiel needed His Dean to understand what it would be like to have it all— inside and outside.

The doors of the warehouse caved in when Castiel flew away. He watched from above when Sam and Bobby burst into the room, guns in hands. Those humans were always pointing a gun at their problems. It would have never worked on Castiel but he admired their tenacity. Yet another reason to love them.

Sam and Bobby found Dean alone, slumped in the corner of the warehouse with his head bowed as he tried to catch his breath. Sam and Bobby asked after Dean's wellbeing over and over again. Dean answered in the affirmative after the fifth time.

Dean sat on the floor, ignoring the way Sam and Bobby fussed over him. He tipped his head to the Heavens and sent out a prayer. 

All the souls inside Castiel trembled in anticipation of a long-awaited release. Castiel smiled. Yes, His Dean understood. Soon Castiel would have His Dean— inside and outside.     

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 11: Pinky Promise

"Is this real?"

Harry practically jumped out of his skin. He'd been sitting on the sofa in the eighth year common room, staring into the fire and trying to ward off the nightmares. He hadn't even heard anyone else walk into the room. "What?" he asked, looking over to see Draco Malfoy, of all people, standing there in his pajamas, face drawn and ashen.

"Is this real?" he repeated.

"Is what real?" Harry asked, looking around to see what he was talking about, unease creeping up his spine. Well, even more unease than he'd already been feeling from the nightmares.

"This," the other boy whispered, sounding terrified, as he gestured vaguely at everything.

And that Harry could understand, he knew what it was like to wake up and not be sure what was real and what wasn't. "Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, this is real."

"Are you sure?" he whispered, his right hand rubbing his left forearm.

A surge of pity rushed through Harry, he knew this year (the past couple, for that matter) had been hard for Malfoy. And honestly? He just didn't have the energy to hate him any more. "Yeah," he said softly.

Malfoy looked at him, "Do you swear?"

"Yes," Harry assured.

"Would you swear with a wizard's oath?"

Harry nodded at him.

"What's the muggle's version of a wizard's oath?" he asked suddenly. "That's something I wouldn't know," he muttered, more to himself than to Harry.

And in that moment, Harry's (sleep deprived) mind blanked and he blurted the only thing he could think of, "Pinky promise."

(Read more below the cut)

"What?" Malfoy asked blankly.

"A pinky promise," Harry repeated. "You can't break them. Here," he said, holding out a pinky to him. "You just take your pinky," he said, grasping Malfoy's hand and tugging it toward him, "and wrap it with mine."

Malfoy entwined his pinky with Harry's, looking carefully at where their hands were joined.

"I pinky promise that this is real," Harry said dutifully. Then he added, "You're okay," softly.

Malfoy looked up at that, his stormy grey eyes met Harry's and he let go of his finger like he'd been scalded. "I-" Malfoy started.

But Harry just shook his head and turned to look back at the fire, "It's alright. You don't have to apologize or feel embarrassed. Why do you think that I'm sitting here in front of the fire instead of sleeping in bed?" he asked wryly. "It's hard for me too."

Malfoy was silent for a few minutes and Harry let him be, he just stared ahead into the fire and waited. For what he wasn't quite sure.

"Can I sit with you?" Malfoy finally asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied, glancing over at him.

Malfoy sat gingerly on the opposite end, tucking his bare feet under him and wrapping his arms around his thin torso.

"Are you cold?" Harry asked.

"A bit."

Harry scooched toward the middle of the couch and put the throw he'd been using over Malfoy's legs, too.

They were quiet for long moments before Harry asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." There was a brief pause, then Malfoy hesitantly asked, "Do you?"

"Godric, no."

Nodding, Malfoy slipped his hand across the few inches between them and entwined their pinkies once more. Then the two of them just sat there in the quiet, listening to the fire crackle and pop until the sun started to peak through the window. They returned to their beds and Harry tried not to think too much about what had just happened.

------------

It happened again the next night, and the night after that, and the night following that, and so on. Malfoy stopped even asking and Harry just started reaching out his pinky for him the moment the other boy entered the room.

Sometimes one of them would drift off while they were sitting together and wake with a start, and Harry for one, found it very reassuring to wake to Malfoy's pinky grounding him to the here and now. He wondered if Malfoy felt the same.

Nothing changed for a few weeks until one morning when he came down for breakfast and saw Malfoy sitting by himself. This wasn't unusual, but one look at the other boy and he knew something was off. Malfoy's face was even paler than usual, his shoulder length blonde hair covering up half his face as his fingers clenched and unclenched. He knew those signs, he knew what his body language meant, and so instead of heading over to sit with Ron and Hermione, he moved toward Malfoy.

He sat down across from him and Malfoy looked up, eyes wide, "What are you doing?"

"I pinky promise," Harry murmured and slid his hand across the table toward him, pinky extended.

Malfoy's hand shot out toward him like he was reaching for a lifeline and he wrapped his pinky around Harry's. Harry watched as he visibly relaxed, his shoulders lowering, and brow smoothing out. After a beat he looked up at Harry, "You didn't have to-"

"I know," Harry said, leaving his left pinky looped through Malfoy's right. "I don't mind." Malfoy opened his mouth to say something but Harry continued, "Could you pass the sausage?"

Malfoy's jaw clicked shut and he did as Harry asked. They sat in silence, eating their breakfast and drinking their coffee, fingers still linked.

-------------

Sitting together at meals became habitual, too.

Ron and Hermione moved to join them eventually. They'd asked Harry about it but he honestly didn't know what he was meant to say. He had no idea what he and Malfoy were doing, it just felt like the right thing to do and in some weird way it felt like Malfoy was the only one who understood him.

Having Ron and Hermione join them was completely surreal and Harry had no idea what to say.

Fortunately, Ron started talking first.

Harry had thought it would be weird to talk to Malfoy, and it was in the beginning, it was awkward and stilted and Harry had mentally cursed Ron Weasley for his extrovert nature. But after a few weeks the four of them managed to have what resembled normal conversations.

Malfoy's right pinky often remained wrapped in Harry's left and Hermione and Ron said nothing about it.

The next time it happened out of (what was becoming) the ordinary was in Defense Against the Dark Arts. They'd been practicing dueling when Malfoy's wand had clattered to the ground.

Harry's attention had been, admittedly, divided between his duel with Ron and Draco's duel with Dean before Draco let his wand fall from his shaking hand. Without a second thought, Harry disarmed Ron and sent a tidy little 'incarcerous' to bind his feet as he started moving toward Draco.

Draco was staring down at his shaking hands as Harry approached.

"Hey," he said softly, trying to draw Draco's attention, "Hey, look at me."

Draco looked up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Hey," Harry said again. "It's okay. You're okay." He offered his pinky to Draco. "This is real," he whispered.

Draco blinked at him and entwined their pinkies together. After a slow deep breath, he nodded once and released Harry so he could go back to working on his dueling.

-------------

It became a habit basically everywhere after that. Harry and Draco became all but inseparable, they started to learn to talk to one another. Harry enjoyed Draco's sharp, dry whit and Draco seemed to enjoy Harry's sarcastic, slightly dark sense of humor. They worked on projects together, started partnering up in classes, started bickering with each other when they disagreed, and even started teasing each other.

Harry had never set out with the intention to befriend Draco Malfoy, but there was certainly no denying it. They'd become rather good friends.

One night, things changed again. Harry awoke with a start, heart pounding against his rib cage. The curtains around his bed were drawn and for a moment he'd been trapped in his cupboard. For a moment, there'd been no way out and there was no one who cared about him.

He kicked off his blankets and struggled out of bed, escaping the room as quietly as he could so he didn't wake up his roommates. He stumbled down the stairs only to find that Draco was already up.

"Hey," Draco said softly, looking up from the book on his lap and lifting the blanket so Harry could settle in next to him.

Harry all but collapsed, pressing his side against Draco's and only then realizing that he was shaking.

"Hey," Draco said, reaching for Harry's finger, "Are you alright?"

Harry shook his head.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly.

He was quiet for a moment, debating what he should say, before the thought popped out without permission. "Are you ever afraid that no one will ever love you?" Harry asked.

Draco's brow furrowed, "Am I personally? Yes. Should you be?" he asked. "No."

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"Because you're Harry Potter."

"But what if I wasn't?" Harry asked, looking over at him. "What if I wasn't the boy who lived? What if I hadn't killed Voldemort? What if I wasn't magical? What if I was just an eighteen year old kid, with no parents, and no prospects? Should I be worried then?"

"Well, setting aside all of those things that make up the reality that we live in, no. You still shouldn't be worried."

"Are you serious?" Harry asked with a huff.

"Yes," Draco replied, putting his marker in his book and setting it to the side so he could turn to look at Harry. "Of course I'm serious and if this were the old you talking to the old me, I'd think that you were fishing for compliments."

"But..."

Draco sighed, "But it's not the old me and I know now that you really don't see yourself clearly at all. Harry, you shouldn't be worried because you'd still be you. You'd still be funny, you'd still be observant when it suits you, you'd still be attractive, you'd still be kind. And most of all, you'd still be good," Draco said, voice soft and sincere. "You'd still be the person who sees trash on the ground outside and picks it up. You'd still be the person who cheers on his friends. You'd still be the person who saw their enemy hurting and reached out a hand to help."

Harry blinked at him. They'd never really talked about this and Harry wasn't sure he was ready to now.

"You are inherently good," Draco said. "You're petty as fuck sometimes and the amount of sass that can come out of your mouth is nearly lethal," he added, eyes sparkling, "But when it matters, you are good. You choose the right thing. You choose to do good."

"And that makes me loveable?"

"Yes. Easily," Draco replied. "It's very easy to love you."

Harry blinked at the casual way he said that. "It's," he cleared his throat, "It's easy to love you, too," he murmured.

"You don't have to say that. I know it's not true."

"It is true!" Harry exclaimed. "It's easy to love how hard working and clever you are. It's easy to love you for the way you've tried to fix hurts you've caused. To love and admire the way you came back when it would have been easier to leave. It's easy to admire the way you care for your family. You're really brave, Draco Malfoy, and I love that about you."

Draco tilted his head at Harry consideringly, "Do you mean that?"

"Yes, of course I do," Harry replied. "I'll even pinky promise that I am telling you the truth," he said, holding out his pinky.

Draco took it and said, "I love the way that you see me."

"The feeling is mutual," Harry replied and butterflies took off in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't quite sure why but then very suddenly, they were leaning toward each other. And Harry would never really be sure who made the first move, but then it didn't matter because he was kissing Draco, one hand cupping his face, the pinky on his other hand clasping tightly to Draco's.

They pulled back after a soft brush of their lips. "Was that okay?" Draco asked, his cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink.

Harry tucked Draco's hair behind his ear and stroked his thumb over his cheekbone, "better than."

"You're sure?" the other boy asked, searching Harry's face.

"I pinky promise," Harry replied.

Day 10: The Beach | Day 12: Adrenaline

@saumzi Thanks so much for the prompt! I hope you enjoy it!

[hufflepuffsthunderdome]

Needy | N. L

Pairing: Neville Longbottom x Female Reader

Warnings: Smut, filthy filthy smut! Daddy kink, slight degradation, dirty talk, semipublic sex 

Words: 3,800

Request: Anon; I need my daily fix of some dom nev. unpopular opinion alert my Neville with a daddy kink 👌👌👌

Summary: Reader keeps teasing Neville to win a bet. She may have won the bet but Neville makes sure they both get a prize. 

The dorm is silent, save for the occasional sound of paper rustling as I flipped through my textbook. It was a nice day, and the rest of the boys were outside enjoying some free time while I was sat inside, stressfully pouring over my potions essay.

A hesitant knock at the door broke me from my concentration. “Come in,” I mumble quietly, cleaning up my quill and turning around to find Y/N, my gorgeous girlfriend peeking her head in the door.

“Hi Neville,” she says excitedly, as she opens the door more and walks towards me, “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all love,” I open my arms to her, and she excitedly leaps into them, sitting on my lap and nuzzling her head into my neck, “God I’ve missed you, darling.”

“I know,” she breathes softly against my neck, the warmth of her breath sending shivers up my spine, “I’ve missed you too.¨ She moves her head up slightly, leaving a trail of kisses up towards my ear, as she shifts to straddle my lap, ¨let me make it up to you.¨

I groan as she nips at my earlobe, her hips rocking down very slightly to ghost over my growing bulge. I take her chin in my hands and pull her face towards me, my other hand wrapping firmly around her hip to press her down harder into me. She gasps at the feeling of my bulge against her underwear through her skirt, and I bring my thumb up to run along her bottom lip, pulling it away from where she has it sucked in between her teeth.

¨Suck a good girl for me baby,¨ I feel her run her tongue around my thumb as she moans slightly, ¨such a needy little thing.¨

She pulls away from my hand and I can tell by her breathy laugh and the glint in her eyes that she´s planning something. ¨Not as needy as you.¨

¨What was that baby girl?”

She lets out a breathy moan as I once again bring her hips down against my clothed length, “I said you’re needier than I am.”

I chuckle at her bratty defiance, and even with closed eyes and a parted mouth she’s still smirking. “In fact,” she says, “I bet you anything I am less needy than you are.”

I grip her waist tightly again to stop her moving, “you bet me?”

“Yep,” she looks me dead in the eyes as she pops the P, the smirk never leaving her lips, “I can last way longer than you can without sex.”

“We both know how wrong you are there darling.”

“Well wanna bet on it then?”

“You’re so on.”

It’s only been three days and I can already feel my resolve starting to waver. I know Y/N had noticed too, with the lingering touches, the longing stares, and my lack of focus at all hours of the day it’s hard for anyone to not notice somethings been up with me. And it’s clearly Y/N.

It’s not even anything that they’re doing in particular. It seems that every step they take, every time they raise their hand in class or look my way, I can’t help but imagine them underneath me writhing and moaning my name. Christ, it’s only been three days and already barely hanging on.

That next morning I knew I was in trouble when I heard Y/N’s beautiful melodic laugh coming towards the Gryffindor table before I even saw her. When I turned to look through my heart skipped a beat in my chest.

Y/N was walking towards the table, arm linked with Hermione as the two girls giggled about something, and I couldn’t help my eyes from raking up her body. She was wearing her school uniform from last year, no doubt - her skirt boarding on dangerously short, showing off the tops of her thigh-high stockings when she walked a certain way, and her top, clinging tightly to her body in all the right places, the top button under and showing off a teasingly small amount of cleavage. I couldn’t look away as she got closer to the table, and I knew I wasn’t the only one she was catching the eye of. Y/N’s always been beautiful but right now she looked like pure sin.

“Hi Neville,” she giggles slightly, face turning slightly red at the attention she is getting from people and bends down to place a soft kiss just next to my mouth. I mumble a small good morning back to her, still in a gaze as I watch her sit down opposite me, in between Seamus and Hermione. 

Fred pipes up from down the table slightly, “you look different today Y/L/N,” George joining in to add, “new hairstyle or something?”

“You know how it is some days,” she shrugs, turning back towards me, “just wanted to try something new for a change.” She winks at me and I swallow harshly, feeling my pants get tighter.

The conversation moves on, but Seamus, Dean and I, myself especially, are barely there, too focused on Y/N sitting in front of us looking gorgeous.

“I think his hair looks rather good short, don’t you think Y/N?” Ginny says from next to Seamus, hand resting on his shoulder as she turns her head slightly to look over his face.

Y/N turns him slightly so he’s looking at her, and I can tell by the way his face goes red that he’s struggling to keep his eyes on her face as she brings her shoulders forward slightly to push her tits out more. “I think it would look good long,” she brings her hand up and runs it through his hair slightly, pushing it back, “I always tend to favour it long,” she turns and looks at me and I have to look away before I drag her out of here.

“Ugh, I-I need to go,” Seamus says, quickly getting up and grabbing his books, placing them awkwardly in front of his lap. Hermione, who has now moved further down the table to talk to Ron and Lavender about something turns towards Ginny and Y/N when she sees Seamus runoff and sends them a sly wink. I knew they were in on it.

“Are you ok Neville?” Ginny asks from next to Y/N, and I turn my attention back to them away from Hermione and look between the two girls.

“O-oh yeah I-I’m fine.”

“Are you sure love?” Y/N reaches over and places her hand on mine, “if there’s a problem you can tell me, I’m always happy to help.” She’s leaning forward a bit now too, and my eyes drop down to her cleavage without me even realising, and I’m hoping she didn’t notice. When I look back in her eye she’s smirking at me, she definitely noticed. She knows she’s won.

I go to say something back, unable to get the words out before Harry chimes in tells us all we’ll be late to class if we don’t go now. In the blink of an eye Y/N’s hand is off mine and she’s heading towards class, purposefully swaying her hips more. She turns back and looks at me, biting her lip slightly and sending me a wink, and within seconds I’ve caught up with her, hand around her waist as I lead her towards an empty classroom.

As soon as the doors closed I’ve got my hands all over her, roaming her body and relishing in the small gasp she lets out when I push her slightly against the wall. “You think you can tease me like this baby? You think I’m gonna be ok with you acting like a brat?”

“I'm sorry daddy,” she whines quietly, looking up at me with those big doe eyes that make my heart melt, and nearly make me drop my dominance for a second. “I just wanted your attention.”

I groan as she says that, loving the innocent façade she puts on, “well you've got my attention now baby, look what you did to daddy.” I push my hips into her core, rutting my hard bulge against her as I press my mouth against hers in a searing kiss, muffling the moan she lets out.

“You gonna make it up to me baby?” All she can do is nod slightly as she stares up at me with her lips parted and eyes half-closed. I press my lips to hers again before slightly pushing on her shoulders, “on your knees baby, be a good girl for daddy.”

She gets on her knees and licks her lips, pushing my shirt up slightly and pressing a wet kiss to my stomach. “No teasing baby girl,” I grip her hair, pulling her away from me as I unbutton my trousers with one hand and pull them down slightly, “you’ve done enough of that today.”

With my trousers pooling around my feet, Y/N runs her tongue along with my cock through my boxers, kitten licking me through the fabric as I groan slightly above her, bucking my hips forward. “He a good girl now.”

She takes the band of my pants between her teeth and pulls them down my thighs, my hard cock springing out from their confinement, twitching slightly at the mix of the cold air and Y/N’s warm breath. As she kitten licks my tips, I look down at her moaning at the sensation, moving her hair out of her face to remind her, “pinch my thigh if it gets too much baby, I’ll stop straight away.”

She looks back up at me with those innocent eyes, her thighs spread as she sits back on her knees, revealing the tops of her stockings, giving me a clear view down her top as she bends her head back slightly to nod.

I wanna tell her how pretty she looks like this, all dolled up and needy for me, but my breath hitches as she suddenly takes me down her throat. I pull all her hair back, away from her face as she continues to take my cock as far into her mouth as she can, going at a torturously slow speed.

“Fuck baby girl,” I tug slightly on her hair, and she moans softly, “such a good slut for daddy.”

She drags her mouth off of me, tongue playing with my head before she takes me out of her mouth, leaving me there for a second panting. Before I can catch my breath or open my eyes again she’s back on my cock, running her tongue along my balls before taking it in her mouth and sucking lightly. She pulls away, lips red and swollen, panting and looking up at me with glassy eyes, “I want you to fuck my mouth daddy.”

I look back at her in shock; we’ve talked about this occasionally, but have never actually done it before, “are you sure baby, I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I'm sure Neville,” she stands up again and presses her lips against mine, undoing the buttons on her shirt as she does so, “I trust you.”

With that she was on her knees in front of me again, lips wrapped around my cock, guiding my hand towards her hair. I pulled it up into a messy ponytail with my hand, gripping it tightly to be able to move her head, “you ready darling.”

She looked up at me and moaned around my cock, and that was all the assurance I needed before I was thrusting my hips forward, Y/N taking most of my cock before she gagged slightly.

“Fuck, such a good girl,” I picked up the pace, snapping my hips back and forth faster as Y/N got used to the feeling of me stretching her jaw, slowly taking more and more of me till she was able to deepthroat my whole length, “ugh fuck you’re so good at that baby, fucking perfect.”

I kept going, thrusting my hips as I moaned above her, looking down to see tears rolling down her cheeks, and spit dribbling down her chin. I was worried for a second I was going too hard, my hips slowing down as the anxiety crept in, but Y/N looked up at me, pulling me out of her mouth to stroke my length with her hand, “please cum for me daddy.”

Once again I was in her mouth in seconds, moaning as she hollowed her cheeks and run her tongue along my length each time I moved, “fuck baby, such a good girl, gonna make daddy cum.”

She moaned loudly around my cock when I said that, the hand that wasn’t rested on my thigh underneath her skirt. The sight of her like that, on her knees and turned on for me was enough to push me over the edge; with a few final thrusts, I came, reminding Y/N to swallow it all before I pulled out. Giving her a second to catch her breath, I fixed her hair slightly while stroking her head, looking down at her, completely enamoured by the gorgeous girl in front of me.

She gets up without us even saying anything, and presses her lips against mine in a soft kiss, “you’re so hot when you get like this.” I can feel my face heating up at her words and I giggle slightly as I look down at the ground, “aww come on Neville, you can’t be getting bashful on me after that!”

We both laugh now, and my hand runs along her jaw as she looks up at me, “I can’t help it, love, you turn me into a blushing mess even still.” I once again bring our lips together, muttering a soft I love you before I do, “I still can’t believe you’re mine.”

“Maybe I’ll just have to prove it,” she leans in and nips slightly against my jaw, and I gasp at the sensation, unaware that she’s guiding my hand until she presses my fingers against her underwear, “fuck I’m so wet for you daddy.” Her shaky voice, soft gaze, and the feeling of her rutting against my hand is all I need before I’m feeling my dick twitch again. I lean up so I’m pressed against her now, turning us so she’s between me and the desk.

She’s moaning against my neck as I run my fingers along her, her hands moving down to the zip at the side of her skirt to undo it, before my hand grips hers softly to stop her. “Keep it, ok baby, it looks so hot on you.”

Her bra and underwear are gone in a second and she’s sat up on the desk, legs spread and my mouth on her nipple with my hands still playing with her pussy. She’s whining above me, hips rocking forward to meet my hand as it moves away, chasing more pressure on her clit. I sink down onto my knees, nipping at her thigh as I bring them up over my shoulder.

“Please Nev.”

“Well, since you’ve been such a good girl for me today,” I lower my mouth and lick a harsh strip up her, sucking lightly on her clit. Her hand comes down and snakes into my hair, her own head thrown back as she bites her lip to keep herself from moaning. “Come on baby,” I say as I pull away, running my fingers teasingly through her folds before I sink one into her, “I wanna hear you moan.”

She does, my name falling gorgeously from her lips as she shakily moans. I’m enraptured by how beautiful she is, my two fingers that are now in her tight pussy moving at a rapid pace without me even needing to think about it; as I can’t help but sit there and look up at her, basking in how beautiful she is. She’s panting, chanting my name like it’s the only word she knows head throws back as she lets her hips chase my fingers.

“Fuck I'm gonna cum.”

“Cum for me Y/N,” my own hand goes down to stroke my cock and I reconnect my mouth to her clit, moving my fingers in a come hither motion, “you look so gorgeous cumming for me, love.” Her pussy tightens around my fingers as she lets out a breathless moan, and I slow my movements to work her through her orgasm and let her calm down.

She pulls me up to my feet again, pressing her lips to mine in a soft loving kiss that leaves up both giddy and smiling, “you’re incredible.”

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

She laughs at my comment and I shoot her a toothy grin back, loving the feeling of her hands stroking the side of my face, and down my chest. She pulls herself off the table and presses her chest against mine so she can kiss me again. “I think I can manage one more if you’re up for it.” Before I even have a chance to answer, she’s pulling away from me and walking away, as she sways her hips, towards the teacher's desk, bending over it slightly and giving me a full view of her ass and dripping pussy.

“Christ you don’t need to ask me twice.” I’m on her within a second, my fingers running through her dripping folds, “such a needy little cunt you have darling.”

“Don’t start Nev,” she giggles, pulling her skirt up around her waist, “comments like that is how this started in the first place.”

I laugh along with her, replacing my fingers with my cock as I push it into her slowly, “if that’s what it takes to get you to dress like this again then I’ll be saying it every day.”

She goes to say something back, but I sink into her before she can; her sentence turning into a breathy moan as my full length stretches her, both of us panting as I sit still to let her adjust.

“Please daddy, please fuck me.”

My hips pull back roughly and snap forwards again as soon as she says that, repeatedly pushing into her as deep as I can. My hands come to grip Y/N’s waist tightly, as I repeatedly bring her hips back towards mine in time with my thrusts, letting me get deeper.

“Does that feel good baby?” I ask, wrapping my around her chest to grope her breasts, bringing her body up so her back is flushed against my chest. She nods her head, mouth opening to reply, but only moaning as I hit her g-spot. I nip harshly at her neck, loving the fact that it’ll leave a mark for the next week or so, “Use your words, baby, tell me how good I’m making you feel.”

“It feels so good daddy,” she links her fingers through my hand from the back, moving it away from me and down her body to her clit, “I’m so close”

I drill my hips faster and harder into her, my finger rubbing harshly against her clit, helping her reach her release as soon as I can, “come on Y/N. Cum for me. Wanna feel you cum around my cock.”

My words are all it takes to push her over the edge. She’s moaning out my name as she slumps forward, her pussy clenching tightly around me. “That’s it baby,” my movements not wavering in the slightest, “can you do one more for me?”

Y/N’s panting still, slumped against the desk as she mumbles a small, “give me one second.”

I slow down and pull out; rubbing Y/N’s back slightly when she winces as I do. “You ok love?”

She turned over, lifting her body slowly so she is sitting on the desk and giggles as she loops her arms around my neck, “of course. Just took it out of me a bit there.”

I press my lips to hers, opening my mouth and groaning when she runs her tongue along my bottom lip and snakes her hand down my chest to stroke my cock lightly, “come on then, I’ve still got one more to give.”

I press my cock back into her, as our mouths reconnect and once again I start rocking my hips harshly into hers. She throws her head back as she drags her nails down my back, my mouth coming up to connect with her neck.

“I love you,” I moan out, my mouth ghosting over her neck. She lets out a loud moan of my name at that, her pussy clenching around me, whether at my words or at my movements I’m not sure. 

“I love you too,” she moans back softly, pulling away from me slightly to look into my eyes, “I’m gonna cum.” I press my lips to hers again, in a loving kiss that sends shivers down my spine.

“Me too darling, cum with me.”

It only takes me a few more thrusts before I feel Y/N clench around my length, my hips stuttering at my own release that follows. I slow my movements down, riding out both of our orgasms but not pulling out yet, looking down at Y/N lying back against the desk, panting. 

“You’re incredible,” I mumble, softly kissing her collar bone as I pick her up, my dick still buried inside her, and move us over so I can sit down in one of the chairs, Y/N clinging onto my neck and waist as I move. 

We sit still like that for a moment, and I look down at her, curled up in my lap, looking gorgeous as her chest slowly starts to rise and fall again at an even pace. She looks up at me, giggling slightly when she sees me already looking down at her, “I’m sorry I was teasing you all day Nev.”

I laugh with her, forgetting entirely the events that lead up to this, “that’s ok darling, just as long as you don’t go flirting with Seamus again we’ll be all good.”

She sits up straighter in my lap when she says that, looking towards the door, “oh God Seamus. I forgot about him. Jesus do you reckon he’ll be upset with me.” I laugh slightly at Y/N’s worried face, “I wouldn’t worry too much,” I press my lips to her neck again, “any possible anger would play second fiddle to how fucking hot you looked.”

She slaps me on the chest when I say that, giggling slightly at my words, “how can you say things like that while also getting so jealous you fuck me into the teacher's desk.”

“It’s not my fault you’re the most gorgeous witch here. I know everyone wants you, I just take great pride in the fact you chose me.”

“When you pull stuff like that out of your back pocket how can I not,” her lips press slightly against mine, pulling away before she deepens the kiss “I won by the way.”

[bi-bard]

Milkshakes - Team Free Will Imagine (Supernatural)

Title: Milkshakes

Pairing: Team Free Will X Platonic!Fem!Reader (as put in the request)

Requested: @gabrielasilva1510

Word Count: 1,846 words

Warning(s): violence, death

Summary: [Early Season 11 (Before Episode 10)] Sam and Dean think that there's something that can be The Darkness. Castiel warns them but... who knows? Maybe God's ultimate weapon isn't as scary as it seems.

Author's Note: I used dodie for outfit inspiration because the outfit matched the vibe but change it if you want. I only used a female read because it's in the request and it helped with clarity because the whole imagine is in 3rd person (I do usually use they/them pronouns in my work). Finally, I thought the milkshake flavor sounded good, but you can change it in your mind if you want to.

Hey! I did a rewrite of the ending of Supernatural. It took a really long time to complete, so it would mean a lot to me if you check it out. Here’s a link! (it’s on my personal account)

----------------------------------------

--Third Person P.O.V--

Sam was leaning over a lore book in the library. It was too early for him to be so focused on the book but he felt like he needed to. The Darkness being released was his fault, he needed to find a solution.

Dean walked in from the kitchen with a cup of coffee and was clearly still half-asleep. He sat across from his brother.

"What're you reading," Dean grumbled out in between sips of coffee.

"I found this book about the most powerful beings," Sam explained. "Most of them are just rumored to exist but I thought it'd give us a jumping-off point on where to find something to help us defeat Amara."

"Anything interesting," Dean asked.

"A Nephilim; kid of an angel and a human," Sam said. "There's no mention that they could kill someone as powerful as God. Then there's..."

Sam trailed off and went back through the book, hunting for a particular page he had read nearly an hour ago. He pointed to the page once he found it.

"This doesn't even have a name but it describes a creature created by God to be a weapon," Sam explained. "I was doing some snooping on some message boards when I first found out about it. There's a lot of religious nuts and self-proclaimed hunters who think this thing is gonna be the end of the world. They say it's a prophecy that can't be stopped."

"And you think hunting it down is a good idea," Dean asked.

"Listen, I don't think it's fair to think this thing wants to end the world," Sam replied. "I think it's the best choice we have right now."

"Alright, fine, where do we look," Dean asked.

The boys didn't have to look far before Castiel popped into the library. He asked where they had gotten on their path to defeat Amara. His eyes went wide when they explained what they wanted to do.

"Are you two insane," Castiel asked.

"Listen-"

"No, I know more about this than either of you," the angel stopped Dean's argument. "This creature could kill you both with a look and end the world with a flick of the wrist and you want to track it down?!"

"Isn't it worth trying," Sam asked.

"'Trying,'" Castiel was so unbelievable done with the idiotic decisions of the Winchesters at that point.

"If we don't try something, then Amara kills all of us anyways," Dean said. "We need something Cas. This could be the thing."

Castiel sighed, letting his head fall forward for a moment before looking back up at the boys.

"Fine," Castiel threw his hands up. "Do you know how to find this thing?"

"Looks like a spell," Sam turned the book so Castiel could look at the page. "We should have everything. It's strange no one's tried-"

"Succeeded," Castiel corrected. "People have probably tried if the spell is so simple."

"Okay, good, let's get the supplies and give it a shot," Dean clapped his hands and stood up.

In a matter of minutes, the boys and their angel were back around the table and ready to start the spell.

Castiel and Dean jumped when Sam grabbed a knife and nicked his hand.

"One of us needs to be bonded," Sam explained. "Like a human compass. It feels right that it's me."

He didn't wait for the other two to respond before he started reading the spell of the book. Castiel and Dean exchanged a look for a moment.

As he finished the spell, a purple flame shot up from the bowl for a second. Sam felt his arm tingling from the wound up. He shook it out, trying to understand what it was telling him.

States over, a young girl, a college student visiting home, is sitting in a booth at a small diner.

In between page turns, she sits up straight. Her eyes flash the same purple as the flame from the spell before she snaps out of the trance.

She looks around. Everything feels different. It's like the air had shifted around her. She furrowed her eyebrows... what the hell was that?

--time skip--

Dean pulled the impala up to the curb of the street. The three of them look at the nice house. White picket fence, two stories, a garden.

"Are you sure about this," Dean asked Sam. "This seems like a pretty normal house."

Sam nodded, "I can feel it. It's here."

"Alright, let's go," Dean replied.

The three of them got out of the car and made their way up the pathway. None of them knew what fight they were going to get once they opened that door. It could've been a deadly fight. They may not have even had a chance to fight.

Still, with one last silent check with the others, Dean lifted his hand and knocked on the door.

The last thing they expected was for a girl to open the door with a wide smile. She had a white dress on with an orange cardigan over the top.

"Hello," she said happily. "What can I help you with?"

"Sam," Dean looked at his brother. Sam just nodded. He could feel it in his gut. "What's your name?"

"(Y/n)," the girl replied. "And you are?"

"I'm Sam," the taller man answered. "This is Dean and Cas."

"Nice to meet you," she held a hand out.

Sam awkwardly accepted, shaking her hand. They both froze, eyes flashing purple before they both stepped back from each other.

"That was weird," (Y/n) mumbled, frowning at her hand. "What was that?"

The boys looked at each other but before they could speak, there was a crash from inside the house. The girl jumped.

"Who's that," Dean asked.

"I don't know," she replied. "My parents are gone. No one else is supposed to be here."

Sam and Dean grabbed their guns before all of them walked inside.

Before they could get any answers for themselves, an angel rounded the corner and tried to grab (Y/n), who ran behind the others as soon as she saw the angel.

She stumbled backward toward the wall in shock and fear. She covered her mouth as the more angels walked into her living, not that she knew that's who they were.

Sam, Dean, and Cas were getting thrown around.

"Stop," Sam yelled as they walked toward (Y/n).

"We need something to defeat the Darkness," one of the angels said. "This is our option. Thank you for leading us to her."

(Y/n) was shaking more as she listened. The Darkness? Why was she so important to them? To the boys or the others who had broken into her house?

"Come on, (Y/n)," one of the angels had a hand out to her. She shook her head and the angel chuckled. "Fine. Make this harder."

The others came running at her.

"No," she yelled, dropping to the ground, and covering herself with her arms.

A pulse of energy shot out. The angels that had broken in had burned in front of her.

Dean, Sam, and Cas looked at each other.

(Y/n) slowly looked up from where she was.

"Hey," Sam walked over, kneeling next to her. "You alright?"

"What was that," she asked, shaking. "Who are you? Who were they? What did I do?"

"Hey, hey," Sam touched the girl's shoulders. "It's alright. Hey... how about we go somewhere to calm down? How about some food, yeah? Is there a restaurant nearby or something?"

She nodded. Sam helped her stand up fully and led her to the impala. Dean and Cas sat in the front while Sam and (Y/n) took the backseat.

(Y/n) rambled about a small diner nearby, giving Dean quick directions before falling silent again.

The four of them took a booth in the farthest back corner. (Y/n) sat leaning against the wall, Sam next to her and Cas and Dean across from her.

"Umm... do you know what you want," Sam asked quietly, making (Y/n) aware of the waitress there.

She was an old friend, "You alright, (Y/n)?"

"Yeah," (Y/n) nodded. "I'm just a little tired. Umm... can I get a cherry vanilla milkshake?"

"That it for you, dear," the waitress checked. (Y/n) nodded with a grin, playing with the end of her cardigan's sleeves.

The waitress took the other three's orders before walking away.

"Who were those people," (Y/n) asked. "Why did they break into my house?"

"Because God made you a weapon," Cas said bluntly, making (Y/n)'s eyes go wide.

"A weapon?"

"He means," Dean jumped in, "you have powers that you don't know about. That's why you were able to get rid of those angels."

"Those were angels," she tried to keep her voice down. They all nodded. "I thought angels were supposed to be good?"

"They are supposed to follow orders," Cas corrected. "Not all of them are good."

She nodded, "Are you guys angels?"

"No, well, Sam and I aren't," Dean pointed between him and his brother. "Cas is."

"Oh," she muttered. "You're not-"

"I'm not gonna force you to go to heaven to defeat the Darkness," Cas promised.

"The Darkness," she said. "What's that? Why do I need to fight it?"

"The Darkness is... kind of our fault," Sam explained. "She's trying to create a new world in her image, which includes destroying this one."

"So, how'd you find me," she asked.

Before they could answer, the waitress came back, dropping off their food and drinks. (Y/n) leaned forward and took a sip of her milkshake and grinned to herself for a moment.

The boys were so confused. This was God's weapon?

"Well, Dean and I are hunters," Sam continued once (Y/n) back over to him. "We hunt monsters. Our grandpa was part of this group, the Men of Letters. They have a book in their collection that talks about you. There was a spell that led us to you."

She nodded but furrowed her eyebrows. Monsters? God? Hunters? After what had happened today, she struggled to deny all of it but was still hesitant to believe them?

"Well, if the Darkness knows I can defeat... her... won't she be looking for me too," (Y/n) asked.

"We can keep you safe," Dean promised.

"You're sure?"

"As sure as possible," he nodded.

(Y/n) looked down for a moment, "Okay. I'll go with you. I just... I need to get some stuff from my house and tell my parents that I'll be gone."

"You can't tell them where you're going or why," Dean said. "It'll put them in danger."

She bit her lip, "If it saves them in the long run, fine."

(Y/n) asked a lot more questions that day as they ate in the diner. They told her about monsters and the big bads they had faced. Monsters' weaknesses and abilities. Their other hunting buddies. People she could trust.

Sam, Dean, and Cas trusted her immediately. They felt like they needed to. Like she was a person to rely on.

And there- over a cherry vanilla milkshake- (Y/n) watched her entire life change forever.

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[waywardrose13]

Night and Day

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 4263

Warnings: Language, witch!reader, mentions and implicaitons of sex, angst, some fluff, not enough editing to satisfy me

Summary: You hid the fact that you were a witch from the Winchester brothers for years. After a run in with an old mentor of yours causes your secret to be revealed, the brothers find out that not only are you a witch, but one of the most powerful in the world. When Dean is given the task to kill you in exchange for his brother’s life, you must face the fact you lied to the man you loved- the same man who hates witches with a burning passion.

A/N: My tags haven’t been working lately. I’m going to put my tags in a reblog. Comment or shoot me an ask letting me know if you got a notification or not. Oh, and also- surprise!

“Dean, I’m serious. We gotta get up.”

You gently nudged at your boyfriend. A smile played on your lips as you felt his arms tighten around you. He whined and let out a long sigh.

“Five more minutes.”

“You said that twenty mintues ago,” you scoffed, smirking down at him. He groaned and lifted his head to look at you.

“You’re a joy killer,” he said. 

“A joy killer?” You asked. You raised a brow as your smirk grew. “Really?”

“Yeah, that’s right,” Dean said.

“Right. Okay big boy, up and attem, let’s go. We’ve got that case in Ozark.”

Dean groaned again. “We just got back from a case two days ago.”

“Comes with the job description, honey,” you said. You swung your legs out of bed, placing your feet onto the floor. As you stood up, Dean suddenly wrapped his arms around you again, pulling you back down onto the bed. You squealed as he squeezed your sides, his lips latching onto your throat.

“Wanna stay here with you,” Dean said. He raised his head to kiss your lips. You ran your hand through his hair, his fingers running up your side, raising to cup your breast beneath your shirt.

“Dean, we don’t have time for this,” you said. He peppered kisses along your throat and collarbone, settling on the pulse point below your ear. “As much as I love doing this, we really need to get up.”

Dean halted his movements and lifted his head to scowl at you. He pushed himself up and off you, walking over to the dresser.

“Alright, fine,” he huffed. “Joy killer.”

***

“Of course, it has to be fucking witches.”

You winced at his words. You had been in Ozark for nearly a day now. After interviewing two of the victims who survived the attacks, you had also spoken to the detectives on the case before investigating the victims’ homes. The victims claimed to have been attacked by a shadow figure. The other three victims had been slaughtered in their homes, while the two survivors suffered severe lacerations and what seemed to be burns. You and the brothers were stumped for a while, until you found a hex bag hidden in a vase in one of the homes, and another hex bag stuffed in a couch cushion in the other.

You always hated witch cases. Not only were they dangerous, but they were also conflicting. You were a natural born witch, coming from a long line of witches on your mother’s side of the family. You had the gift of sight, also known as psychic abilities, and you had practiced witchcraft since you were thirteen.

When you had met Dean Winchester, it had been on a ghoul hunt. In those three days, you instantly felt an attraction to him that you couldn’t describe. You never thought he would be interested in you. You saw the women he’d frequent, and you weren’t like them. You were in shape, hunting keeping you fit, however you had some stretch marks, love handles, and thicker thighs than you would’ve liked. You also weren’t the prettiest woman in your opinion. You weren’t ugly, but you were always self conscious of the way you looked. You were sarcastic, cursed like a sailor, and reserved. You had always kept a wall around yourself ever since you were younger, sprouting at early ages due to things you had experienced and seen. You were twenty-four, a virgin, and a bit awkward at times.

Not at all Dean Winchester’s type.

But after meeting up with the Winchesters a few more times, you and Dean slowly became closer, until one night after a hunt, Dean had confessed his feelings for you. He was hesitant at first due to the ten year age difference, but your relationship had quickly blossomed. He was your first real relationship, the first person to ever be with you entirely, the first person to ever hold your heart.

Which is why you never told him about yourself.

Dean hated witches. It was a fact everyone knew. If you were to tell him that you were, in fact, a witch, he’d not only break up with you, but you were afraid he’d hunt you. Although you had never used your abilities for anything other than good, you weren’t entirely sure Dean would be able to trust you after you kept it from him for so long.

You were one of the most powerful witches in the world. Numerous covens have tried to recruit you, but you turned them all down. You were nomadic by nature, a free spirit, and you didn’t want to use your abilities to do someone else’s bidding. So you stuck to yourself. You kept off the radar and hoped your protective hex bags shield sigil tattoos worked. When Dean asked about the tattoos, you had simply told him they were more sigils for protection- like the anti possession tattoo. He believed you without a second thought.

“Okay, so now that we know what we’re dealing with,” Sam began. “We need to find out who. After doing some digging, I found that all of the victims attended the same addiction recovery group.”

“So you think the group is somehow linked to the murders?” Dean asked.

“It makes sense,” you said. “They all had this one thing in common. That’s what we always look for, right?”

“Right. There are only three people left in the group who have not been attacked. Since it’s a support group, anonymity is a requirement. But luckily for us, we have fake badges,” Sam said. “Marcus Wainwright, Brienne Tarly, and Astrid Waters are the only people who haven’t been attacked.”

You froze at Astrid’s name. You knew that name. She was the leader of a coven who tried to recruit you years ago. You turned them down because of the craft which they practiced.

“Who’s the leader of the group?” You asked.

“Uh…” Sam looked at the files. “Astrid.”

“I think it’s her,” you said. The brothers looked at you in question. You mentallykicked yourself. You said it before you could think. “She’s the leader, right?” You tried to cover yourself. “What if she used this group as a way to make sacrifices to whatever that shadow is?”

“That actually makes a lot of sense,” Sam said. “Carla, one of the victims I talked to today, said that Astrid would always try to get the group attendants to recruit more people. Apparently Astrid was always trying to bring more people into the group. Almost like she was obsessed with it.”

“She was trying to get more people to sacrifice,” Dean said.

“Exactly,” you said.

“Okay, let’s find this bitch.”

***

Astrid still lived in the same cottage as she did all those years ago when she tried to recruit you. Cobblestone walls covered in climbing ivy. Black shutters hung off the gothic windows. Various leafy plants grew around the sides of the house. The broken path led to a great wood door. The negative energy rolling off the house made you nauseous, and it took everything in you not to pass out.

You were only sixteen when you met Astrid, only just beginning to truly tap into your true potential when other witches began to feel your energy.

“You’re strong,” she had told you. “Stronger than me. You would be a valuable asset to any coven. A threat to witches below your strength. Others will want to harvest that power for themselves. We can keep you safe. I can keep you safe.”

You could feel her energy was dark. Her aura was an ominous black, a stark contrast from your pure white. You knew she was lying immediately. You threatened her. You were stronger than Astrid, and that pissed her off.

“I can fend for myself, thanks,” you had said.

Astrid had simply smirked at you, patting your hand gently. “We’ll see about that, my dear.”

You never thought you’d run across her again. You had hoped that you wouldn���t run into her again. Not only was she incredibly dangerous to you, but there was a high chance she would spill your secret, and you would not only lose Dean forever, but you would lose your life.

Swallowing back your fear, you trudged through the woods alongside the brothers. You knew you needed to do this. Innocent people were dying. If this was your last night on Earth, you wanted to be able to save them at least.

The three of you ducked below one of the windows. Dean peeked inside, trying his best to stay as hidden as possible.

“She’s in there,” he whispered. “She’s… at an altar. She’s chanting something.”

“Guess we found our witch,” Sam muttered. “Nice, Y/N.”

You gave him a weak smile.

Dean got up in front of the door, gun in hand. You and Sam waited for his call.

“Okay, on three,” he said.

“One… two…”

“Three!”

A new voice echoed around you, the door of the cottage violently swinging open, a gust of wind knocking Dean off his feet. Astrid’s cackle filled the air, and suddenly you began to feel woozy. Dean’s eyes fluttered shut, Sam falling down next to you. You knew it was Astrid, and you tried to fight it off, but soon succumbed to her power as well, your world going dark.

***

“How exciting!”

Head pounding, you awoke to the sound of a female’s voice. Trying to move, you soon found yourself unable to. Your eyelids felt heavy, and your limbs felt numb.

Opening your eyes, you found yourself staring up at the ceiling of the cottage. Astrid’s silver head was bent over you, bright emerald eyes staring into yours, a crooked, elated smile on her face.

“My oh my, I never thought the day would come,” she muttered to herself. A long nailed finger stroked your cheek, and you flinched away.

“Don’t touch her, you bitch!” You turned your head at the sound of Dean’s voice. You smiled weakly immediately at the sight of him, finding yourself incredibly tired.

You felt drained.

You tried to move your hands, finding them strapped to the table you were currently laid out on. Your flannel had been removed, as were your jeans, leaving you in only a tank top and panties. You shivered in the cool air. You hated being exposed like this in front of anyone that wasn’t Dean.

“What are you doing?” You asked weakly. “Let me go.”

Astrid laughed. “Please. You fall right into my hands and you think I’m going to let you go?” She asked. “You’re smarter than that, little fox.”

 “Why are you doing this?” Sam asked. “Why did you kill all those people? Why did you sacrifice them?”

Astrid looked surprised. “Oh my, you’re a smart one, aren’t you?” She smiled at Sam, holding a mortar and pestle up over you. She crushed something inside, muttering a few incantations.

“The shadow makes me stronger. The more it's fed, the stronger I become,” Astrid said smoothly. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m a strong witch. Stronger than your average natural born, much stronger. However, there are only two people in the world who are stronger than me.”

Astrid gave you a pointed look. 

“The shadow makes me stronger, as I said, but without the power of the other two witches, I will never be the strongest. If I were to siphon their energies from their souls, I would be the strongest witch there ever was and will ever be.”

“Pretty egotistical, eh there, granny?” Dean said. Astrid sneered at him.

“You’ll be the first one to die once I’m done with her, honey,” Astrid said.

“That is if I don’t kill you first, sweetheart.”

“If you only knew what I would be capable of,” Astrid snapped. “One witch has kept herself hidden. The Scottish bitch never can be found.”

“Rowena,” Sam said. 

“Oh, you know her?” Astrid said. “Yes, Rowena. Now, the other witch. Well, I met her years ago. She was just a wee lass of sixteen at the time, but she was already so strong. I knew she was going to be a problem for me. I tried to recruit her to my coven, but she was smart. Too smart. I’ve been trying to track her down for years, and I’ve never been able to find her.”

Astrid let out a dreamy sigh. “And then, by the grace of God, she fell right into my hands.”

“If you’ve already killed her, why take the souls of innocents?” Dean asked.

Astrid scoffed. “Oh no, dear. I haven’t killed her yet.”

“Well what’s the hold up? One less witch to worry about. You’ll stop killing innocent people.”

Astrid laughed. She looked down at you. “No idea how you’ve been with the man as long as you did. If I heard that, I’d run for the hills. Or stab him in his sleep.”

“Don’t touch him,” you hissed. Astrid grinned.

“There’s that fire,” she said. She smeared the green paste she made over your chest. You let out a small cry as it burned your skin. She painted a pentacle on you, muttering more incantations.

“Unfortunately, to siphon all of a witch's power, the siphoner cannot kill the siphonee,” Astrid said. “Someone else has to do it after I prepare her, then I could siphon it.”

“Well let’s make you a deal,” Dean said. Your lip wobbled. “If I kill the bitch, letting you siphon her power, you will never kill another person.”

Astrid smiled wickedly. “Really?”

“Sure. One less witch and we save some people.”

Astrid laughed. “Oh that’s too good. I’ll make a blood vow. If I break it, I die.”

“Fine.” Dean nodded at her.

“Give me your word, hunter,” Astrid said.

“I give you my word.”

“That no matter what, you follow through,” Astrid continued.

Dean sighed. “Yeah, fine.”

“Dean,” you said softly. A tear leaked from your eye. “Please.”

He looked at you curiously. Astrid cut his bindings, letting him free.

“He’s not the brightest bulb, is he?” She asked you, laughing.

“Where do I find her?” Dean asked.

Astrid handed Dean a knife. It had a curled handle, various sigils carved into it. She stepped back, folding her arms over her chest. 

“Go ahead.”

“You deaf?” Dean asked. “Where do I find the bitch?”

Astrid smirked, running her tongue over her lips.

“Right in front of you.”

The blood drained from Dean’s face. Tears streamed from your eyes now, leaking down your temples onto the wood beneath you. Astrid killing you was one thing. Dean killing you? There was nothing worse you could think of.

“Y/N?” He said. “No fucking way. She’s not a witch.”

“Isn’t she?” Astrid asked. “Go on, Y/N. Show us a little trick.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, wishing this was all a dream. Wishing that you would wake up and you’d be back at the bunker in Dean’s arms.

But when you opened your eyes, Dean still stood there, that curved knife in his hand, Astrid’s evil grin plastered on her face, a shocked Sam watching from his confinement on the wall.

“Fuck you,” you hissed.

“If you don’t show him-” she walked over to Sam, hand on his head- “I blow his brain apart.”

You took in a shaky breath, eyes focusing on the windows. Suddenly, your eyes glowed purple, and the windows shattered. The glass floated up into the air, spinning around and around, wind whipping everyone’s hair. It only lasted a few moments, and when the glass stopped spinning, a heart floated six feet off the ground. It slowly moved towards Dean, and once it reached him, you blinked, eyes going back to their normal E/C, the heart falling to the ground, glass shattering once more, mimicking your own heart.

Dean looked up at you in shock.

“You did that?”

“It’s her best party trick,” Astrid said. “Y/N here is an artist. Unless, of course, she’s blowing a werewolf to pieces with a simple flick of her wrist, or growing a thirty foot tree with the blink of an eye.”

“No,” Dean said lowly. “You lied to me.”

“I was afraid,” you said. “You hate witches. I thought you were going to kill me.”

“You fucking kept this giant ass secret from me!” He yelled. “You lied to me for years! All that time we’ve been together, you’ve been fucking

“Dean, please-”

“How do I know anything you said was true?”

“It all is! You know everything about me, Dean! I just never told you this!” You urged. “Please, Dean. You know me. You know I’m a good person.”

“I don’t know shit,” he hissed. “Have you ever killed anyone?”

“What?” You asked.

“Have you ever killed someone?” He snapped.

“No! I’ve never-”

“Eh, eh, eh,” Astrid said. “Don’t lie to the poor man anymore, Y/N.”

You let out a sob. “It was an accident.”

“An accident?” Astrid exclaimed. “Bursting a man into flames was an accident? Killing a father of four was an accident?”

“Yes!” You said. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t know how to control myself, I-”

A sharp pain suddenly seared inside your head. You gasped, eyes squeezing shut.

“What are you doing?” Dean asked. Astrid grinned.

“Punishing her,” she answered calmly. You screamed as the pain became so intense, white flashed behind your eyes and your whole body went rigid.

“Stop!” Dean yelled.

The pain was gone instantly. You panted, chest heaving as you tried to catch your breath, sweat mixing with your tears.

“Slit her wrists, Dean,” Astrid whispered. “You swore.”

Dean took the few steps he needed to be right next to you. He looked at the knife, then at your wrist, then at your face.

“Won’t she just heal herself?” He asked.

“Those cuffs around her wrists contain sigils that will prevent any self healing or harm to another person,” Astrid said. “It limits her power. It’s why she hasn’t broken out yet.”

Dean swallowed thickly. He looked at you, eyes searing deeply into your own. An anger burned behind the green you loved so much. It scared you. That anger had never been directed towards you before. 

But there was something else as well. Despair. Dean was torn. You were a witch, a powerful one, and you had lied about it for years. On the other hand, Dean was in love with you. He loved you so much, it scared him.

“Do it,” Astrid said. “Do it, or I kill him.”

She was bent down beside Sam now, lips near his ear, eyes burning purple. Dean looked between you and his brother. You knew he’d never choose you over Sam.

“Do it,” you whispered. You nodded at him, giving him a soft smile. “It’s alright.”

“How can you say that?” Dean asked. 

“I’ll find my way back to you someday,” you told him. “If not, I’ll simply wait for you.”

Dean bit his lip. “I wish you had told me.”

“I thought you were going to kill me,” you admitted. He shook his head, leaning against the table. He cupped your cheek, thumb wiping away a stray tear.

“Baby, you’re a good person,” he said. “Sure, I hate witches.”

You winced.

“But I could never hate you.”

You blinked a few times. “Even though I’m-”

He pressed his lips softly to yours. His eyes were misty, brows pulled together. 

“I could never hate you,” he whispered against your lips.

“Do it, Dean!” Astrid urged. “You’ve got ten seconds.”

“Dean, don’t do it,” Sam said. 

“It’s okay,” you whispered. “I’ll wait for you, my love.”

Dean shook his head.

“Five seconds,” Astrid warned.

“I love you, Dean. It’s okay,” you whispered. 

Dean looked down at the knife in his hands. He caressed your wrist, bringing the knife down against your skin.

“Three seconds!”

He gave you one last look, moving the knife back-

“Two-”

He jerked the knife-

“One!”

You expected the sting of the blade, but only felt the release of the cuff. 

“Man, you should have had some sort of spell on that shit,” Dean said. He smiled darkly at you, giving you a wink. Using your other hand, you flashed your eyes purple, burning the other cuff off.

“No!” Astrid yelled. “What have you done?”

With a simple flick of your wrist, Astrid was flung away from Sam. She crashed into the opposite wall. You slipped off the table, bare feet hitting the cold floor. A wind blew through the cottage, blowing your hair back from your face. You stalked towards her, all the while a smirk grew on your lips, your fingers tingling.

“I haven’t let myself go in so long,” you said. You lifted your hands, seeing the purple glow in your palms and beneath your fingertips. You cocked your head. “All this pent up energy…”

“Y/N-”

“It’s almost like snapping a rubber band,” you muttered.

“Y/N,” Dean said slowly. 

Using a blast of power, you forced Astrid’s arms against the wall. Keeping them there, you raised her up until her feet dangled off the floor. You did the same to her ankles, the strain causing her skin to bruise immediately.

“Y/N, wait-”

You forced her head back, a sickening crunch resonating inside the cottage.

“So much power… can be dangerous,” Astrid gasped. Blood dribbled from her mouth and nose, pouring out of her eyes like tears. You forced more pressure upon her, crushing her further. “I was your mentor once… don’t let it consume you… keep your soul pure…”

You crushed her further, your brow raising slightly. You smiled wickedly at Astrid, a dark chuckle leaving your lips. “Rich coming from you,” you said.

“I let it consume me,” Astrid told you. “Don’t… follow in my footsteps.”

You hadn’t used your power like this in years, not since Astrid was your mentor. It sizzled in your veins and made you feel more rushed than ever. It was almost euphoric, the way your body burned with power, power that came from the Earth beneath your feet. 

You missed that feeling.

What you didn’t miss, however, was the creeping feeling of darkness. It would intrude your thoughts and darken your mind. The risk of using that much power was the potential that it could consume you, and you would flip darkside.

Like Astrid did.

“See you in hell.”

Using once last surge of power, Astrid let out a guttural scream as her whole body turned an odd shade of red, eyes nearly popping from their sockets, blood streaming from any open source, before she stopped moving.

Letting your power retract, she slumped to the floor.

Dead.

You blinked, letting your eyes return to their natural colour, turning to face Dean.

“You gonna kill me now?” You asked.

Dean swallowed thickly, giving you a small smile.

“No.”

“Why not?” You said. “I’m a monster, right? You hate witches. I am witch. Pretty self explanatory.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Dean said.

“You can’t pick and choose the monsters you kill and don’t kill,” you said. “You came here to kill a witch. I killed her, now it’s your turn.”

“I’m not going to kill you,” Dean repeated.

You gritted your teeth, sighing deeply. “Fine.”

You walked over to Sam, looking over your shoulder at Dean. With a simple flick of your wrist, Sam was released from his bindings.

“Do it, Sam.”

“Why?” He asked.

“I haven’t let myself go like that in a long time,” you said. “I forgot how tempting it is to give in. I want to do it, Dean. You need to kill me before I do.”

“No,” he said.

“Do it!” You yelled. “Do you really want me to flip? You want me to become like her?” You pointed to the woman you had just killed.

“You won’t,” Dean said. “You’re not like her.”

“Yes,” you whispered. A single tear slipped down your cheek. “I am. I killed that man when I was sixteen because I almost let it win. Who knows what else I could have done if I did.”

“Then we lock you up in the dungeon,” Dean said. “And we bring you back. But you’re good, Y/N. I know you better than anyone.”

Your lip wobbled. 

“You still love me?” You murmured. “Even after finding out?”

Dean smiled warmly at you. He took your hands in his, massaging the backs of yours. “Sure, I was pissed you didn’t tell me. Still am, quite frankly. But you’re my girl,” he said. “I know you. I know the kind of person you are.”

“You hate witches,” you pointed out.

“Eh, maybe they’re not so bad,” Dean said, giving you a lopsided shrug. “I mean, I know this one witch. She’s pretty hot, really good in bed-”

“Dean!” You exclaimed, slapping his chest playfully. He laughed, kissing your forehead, bringing you into his chest.

“What can I say? What you did was pretty badass. Not my fault I’m into that.”

You shook your head. “Okay, big boy. If you’re not gonna kill me, let’s go home.”

Dean took a deep breath, leaning down to pick you up bridal style. You gasped, wrapping your arms around his neck to steady yourself.

“Come on, Sabrina,” he said. You gave him a bitch face, making Sam laugh.

“Really?” You asked.

“Oh, I’ve got more,” he said. “Do you have a pointy hat? Or a broomstick? Were you always this color, or were you born green?”

“Yeah, this is gonna be a long ride home,” Sam muttered.

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