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f0rg3t-me-n0t · 1 year

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A Simple Salt and Burn

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: A simple salt and burn turns out to be not so easy after all.

Words: 11,2k

Warnings: angst, language, fluff, reader gets/is hurt, painkillers, friends to lovers

A/N: English isn’t my mother tongue so please excuse any mistakes! :)

Masterlist

~~~

A soft knock on the door made you look up from the book you were currently reading. Sam had bought it for you on their last hunt to help you pass some time while you were taking a little break. You had to heal from a pretty bad wound you had gotten from a werewolf a few weeks ago.

„Yeah?“, you called out and Dean slowly entered your room.

„I‘m not interrupting you, am I?“, he asked, pointing at your book.

„Oh no.“, you shook your head and smiled at the older Winchester. „I just finished the chapter.“

With a relieved sigh, he sat down on the edge of your bed.

„That’s good.“, he said before he went silent and scratched his neck. „So…uhm…“

Closing your book you looked at him.

„What is it?“

„Well…“, Dean cleared his throat and turned a little more to you. „Sam wanted me to ask you if you wanted to join us on a new case...“

You being surprised was an understatement. Never had you even thought to hear that question right now.

It was no wonder that suspicion started to rise right away, so you asked: „But?“

Dean huffed while shrugging.

„I‘m just a little worried that it might be a little too soon for you.“, he confessed.

„Uhhh…“, you frowned. „I don’t know. I’m feeling pretty good right now, to be honest. What kind of case is it?“

„A simple salt and burn.“, the dirty blonde answered.

He still didn’t look very convinced.

„I think that should be alright.“, nevertheless you nodded and pulled your blanket to the side. „Might just be perfect for me. It’s something easy to get back into business again.“

You chuckled and hoped it would loosen the tension.

„You sure?“, Dean stood up after you had made your way to the duffle bag that was laying in the corner of your room.

„Yeah.“, you started to throw various items of clothing in it and turned to him after you had heard him sigh. „I promise. I‘ll be careful, okay?“

And finally, you had persuaded him.

„Alright, I guess.“, Dean smiled a little and nodded outside while he was walking to the door. „Meet us at the Impala in 15 minutes?“

„Sounds good to me.“, you agreed and he left.

Relief spread through your body and you couldn’t help but grin. Finally, the boredom was over. Still, you had to admit that it was right for Dean to worry. Your wound wasn’t completely healed yet, but in a much better condition than before.

You pulled up your tank top a little to reveal the bandage on your belly. Carefully you removed it and looked at the fresh scar. It had been a pretty large and deep cut, but right now it was only a little red and irritated. Not too bad.

„Okay, let’s put on some ointment and get the rest of my stuff.“, you murmured to yourself.

Said and done. After you had taken care of your wound, you remembered the painkillers on your nightstand and threw them in the bag, too. Just in case. Then you collected your toiletries in the bathroom and there was only one thing left to do: throw on some real clothes.

Finally, you made your way over to the garage.

„Hey boys.“, you greeted the Winchesters.

„Hey.“, Sam smiled at you and put the duffle bag that you were handing him in the trunk of the Impala. „How are you feeling?“

„Well rested and excited.“, you answered him with a smirk and he patted your shoulder.

„Glad to hear that.“, the Brunette opened the door to the backseat for you. „I‘m happy you’re back on track again.“

„Yeah, me too.“

You got in the car and looked at Dean who was already in the driver's seat. His glance shifted from his smartphone to you.

„Wait.“, he furrowed his eyebrows. „Is that my flannel? I‘ve been looking for it everywhere!“

Grinning you eyed the brown material on your body.

„After the last load of laundry, it kinda showed up in my drawer, so I thought I’d borrow it.“

Now he chuckled.

„At least I know now that it’s in good hands.“, he said.

This statement made you blush a little. You‘ve had some feelings for the older Winchester for a while now but just couldn’t muster the courage to tell him. Losing your best friend was your worst fear so you decided to stay quiet.

„Okay, let’s go.“, Sam got in the car and you cleared your throat.

„Yup. Let’s kick some ghost ass.“

~~~

After three hours of driving Dean decided to take a stop at a gas station. He turned the Led Zeppelin song that was blasting from the stereo lower and got out of the Impala. Just two seconds later his head appeared again and he looked at you.

„Want something from the shop?“, he asked.

„Uhm…maybe some chocolate?“, you shrugged.

„Alright.“, Dean turned to go but he was stopped by his brother.

„Hey, what’s with me?“, Sam pouted.

„You and me both know, that you’re more into rabbit food than snacks and there’s no green stuff at a gas station.“, this was the only answer the dirty blonde gave him, then he was gone.

Sam huffed while you were laughing.

„Oh wow, that was mean.“, you chuckled.

„Yeah…“, he said sourly.

„Don’t worry, I‘ll share some chocolate with you.“, you leaned forward and nudged his arm.

He snorted while rolling his eyes.

„Thanks, N/N.“

„You’re welcome.“, grinning you sat back and stared out of the window. „Anyways…what’s the case about? I can’t believe I haven’t asked already.“

Sam nodded and grabbed his notebook.

„Yeah, we had a lot to catch up on. You barely left your room in the last three weeks.“, he spoke.

„Right…“, you sighed. „Wasn’t feeling that well…“

„I know. It’s alright. I’m glad you’re doing better.“, Sam waved it off. „So…where is it?“ He flicked through his notes. „Oh yeah. A group of teenagers went missing in a haunted house in Purcell, Oklahoma. Your typical dare. Fact is that only one kid came back and he’s absolutely traumatized. He told the police that a disfigured man let his friends vanish or might have even killed them. They thought he was nuts so they put him in a mental facility.“

„Jesus. Poor kid.“, you murmured. „But it really sounds like a salt and burn.“

Just as you finished your sentence Dean opened the driver's door.

„Look what I found! Beef Jerky with Pizza flavoring!“, grinning from ear to ear he shook the little bag in front of Sam.

Sam only rolled his eyes.

„Oh, here’s your chocolate.“, Dean threw a Hersheys bar at you that you barely caught. „Were you two talking about the case?“

„Yeah.“, you nodded and opened the chocolate bar before taking a bite.

„I see.“, Dean started the car and got back on the road. „So…what’s the plan?“

„First of all we should get a motel.“, Sam suggested. „Afterwards we can talk with the police and Lucas Paulson. He’s the only one from the group who’s not missing.“

„Sounds good.“, you agreed. „Maybe we should also look into the backstory of the haunted house. I mean…surely the police and Lucas can tell us a few things about it, but just to be safe. Then we can visit the house.“

„Alright.“, Dean said. „But let’s do all of the case stuff tomorrow. It’ll be late when we arrive in Purcell. Maybe we could go out for a few drinks? What do you guys think?“

His eyes met yours in the rearview mirror. Sam already shook his head.

„Nah. I think I’m going to do some research.“

Dean didn’t react. His eyes were still on you. Immediately you could feel yourself turning a little red.

„Uh, sure. Why not?“, you gave in.

The older brother smiled.

„That’s my girl.“

Your eyes widened a little but at the same time, you knew or rather told yourself that he didn’t mean anything by it. He was your best friend and you were his. That’s all.

~~~

Finally, you arrived at the Three Oaks Motel. It wasn’t too shabby and they even had a free room for three. A double bed and a single bed. Sam took the single one because the double bed would be too cramped for the other person sleeping there, so you and Dean had no other choice than to take the double. It wasn’t really weird, you’ve had spent a few times sleeping in one bed with Dean when no rooms for three persons were available, but right now with your feelings, it wasn’t the best option.

Sighing you put down your duffle bag on your side of the bed.

„Is sleeping next to me that bad?“, Dean chuckled and threw his stuff next to his nightstand.

„Oh!“, you felt caught. „Not at all…uh…the drive was just long.“

The blonde looked at you with worry.

„Your wound isn’t hurting, is it?“

„No. But my back. I’m getting old.“, quickly you tried to distract him and laughed.

Snorting he shook his head but you didn’t miss that there was still worry in his eyes.

„Okay. Let’s grab some food. I’m starving.“, nevertheless you had a plan to escape the situation. „I saw a diner on our way to the motel. It should be a few minutes away by foot.“

Both Winchesters agreed so you set out. While you were waiting for your burgers and Sam‘s salad you discussed the little information you had about the case and the last werewolf hunt that had left you with that nasty cut on your stomach. The topic was still a little sensitive for you so you tried to talk your way around it. To be honest, the wound really did hurt a bit after the long drive, so after a while, you excused yourself to the restroom to take an Advil.

Sighing you looked at yourself in the mirror. You really hoped you had made the right decision to tag along.

After dinner, Sam made his way back to the motel, and Dean and you went looking for a bar. For a while, you just walked silently next to each other.

„So…“, Dean broke the silence after some time. „You took something for the pain in the bathroom, didn’t you?“

Your steps slowed down and you looked at him.

„Don’t lie. I saw you taking the pills out of your bag back in the motel. And I also noticed you huffing quite a bit before you went to the restroom.“

You both stood still now and you gulped.

„Well…“, you let out a shaky breath. „The cut hurt a little. But it’s okay. Really.“

Dean eyed you with a stern look on his face and blew some air through his nose.

„So you didn’t tell me the truth in the motel.“

He was pissed. At least a bit.

„Why?“, he asked.

You looked to your feet and shrugged.

„I just didn’t want you to worry.“

„But I do. All the time, since that werewolf got you.“

„I know.“, you murmured, then you got louder. „I just couldn’t stand being bored to death in my room anymore. The wound was fine before the ride. I promise. And I…I know I fucked up that werewolf hunt but you need to trust me. I’m fine. Please…“

Dean took a step forward and put his hand on your shoulder.

„I trust you, sweetheart. I just can’t see you hurt.“, he said. „And you didn’t fuck up that hu-“

„I did.“, you didn’t let him finish his sentence. „I ran after that werewolf and that’s why he got me. You even got mad at me for it.“

Now the green-eyed hunter sighed.

„Yeah, I know Y/N. But you just tried to save that girl. And you did, which makes me so proud of you. I was just mad at you because I was scared for you…“, his hand left your shoulder and he turned away from you.

Now you didn’t know what to say. Your mouth opened but nothing came out, so Dean went on.

„So…yeah. It’s not your fault.“, he cleared his throat. „But you need to be honest with me about your wound, okay? I won’t stop you now but I want you to let me know if it’s getting worse.“

For some time you stayed silent, then you nodded.

„Okay.“

„Good.“, the older Winchester set in motion again and you caught up to him. „Now let’s forget about that, deal? I really need some drinks.“

He smiled at you and held his hand out for you.

„Deal.“, you reciprocated the smile and took it.

~~~

The next morning started early. You were really happy that you didn’t drink so much last evening because you didn’t want to mix too much alcohol with the painkiller. Dean on the other hand wasn’t that lucky. He grumpily sat on his bed and slurped on the coffee that Sam had brought from his morning jog.

„So…wanna drive to the police station in 15 minutes?“, the younger Winchester asked.

You nodded, but Dean only glared at Sam.

„Jesus, could you slow down a bit? Some of us are not fully awake yet.“

„Well, sorry. It’s not my fault that you’re hungover.“, Sam snorted, then he went out to grab the suits from the Impala.

Dean grumbled a little and you chuckled.

„Come on, big boy. You’ll be fine.“, you said and patted his shoulder. „Need some Advil?“

„Nah…“, he waved it off. „I‘m good.“

„Alright.“, you shrugged. „Then drink up and get ready.“

The dirty blonde sighed but finally got up and disappeared into the bathroom. Just then, Sam came back and handed you your suit.

„He seems to listen to you more than to me.“, he shook his head.

Grinning you answered: „At least he listens to someone.“

„Yeah. You’re right.“, Sam chuckled, then he started to change into his suit.

After you turned around you did the same. It wasn’t untypical for you to do this. After all the brothers had already seen you enough in your underwear while tending to your wound or that time you all went swimming in a lake near the bunker.

Eventually, Dean returned from the bathroom. His hair wasn’t disheveled anymore and he smelled like deodorant.

„You look better.“, you told him.

„Gee, thanks. Still feel like shit.“, he yawned, then he pulled his shirt over his head and started to throw on his suit.

You couldn’t help but glance at his torso, the anti-possession tattoo, and his soft abs. Gulping you looked away, when you realized, that Deans's gaze had met yours and you could see him smirking from the corner of your eye.

„You good, sweetheart?“, he asked cockily.

„Perfectly fine.“

Exhaling, you walked past him and outside to the car. Your belly was feeling all fuzzy and you could really beat yourself for staring so much. While pinching the bridge of your nose you walked up and down for some time and only stopped, when you heard the two brothers leaving your room.

„Let’s get going.“, Sam hopped into the passenger seat and you got into the backseat without saying a word.

When Dean had finally taken his place in front of the steering wheel, his eyes set on you for some seconds through the rearview mirror, then he started the motor. Shakily you quietly breathed out and decided to look out of the window.

Only a few minutes later you arrived at the police station. After you went in, Dean introduced you to the sheriff, who was talking to one of his colleagues in the lobby.

„Hello. I'm Agent Plant, these are Agent Page and Agent Jones.“, he nodded to you and Sam. „We‘re from the FBI and we’re here for the investigation of the missing teenagers.“

The sheriff looked surprised. You on the other hand tried to hold in a grin because you knew perfectly well that Dean had chosen the last names of Led Zeppelins members.

„The FBI? Why would they deal with this case?“, Sheriff Milner who was a tall man with light brown hair and stubble as a beard asked.

„Uhm.“, Sam cleared his throat. „We’re newbies, so our boss decided it would be best for us to start with something easy.“

Now the Sheriff laughed.

„Easy.“, he snorted. „Well, not so easy if you ask me, gentlemen and dear lady. Come with me.“

He escorted you to his office and handed Sam a file. While Sam was flicking through it he began to tell you about the case.

„So…as you can see we have five missing teenagers, two girls, and three boys. Only Lucas Paulson got away, but he went a little crazy.“, he sighed. „They visited the old Griffin House which is just a little outside of town.“

„We were told that it’s haunted. That right?“, Dean asked.

Sheriff Milner shrugged.

„If you ask me it’s just a story, but I have to admit that the case is…well, weird.“

Now you frowned.

„Weird? Can you tell us a little more about the backstory of the house? To be honest, we didn’t get a lot of information on it.“, you wanted to know.

„Yeah of course.“, the brunette nodded. „60 years ago the Griffin family lived there. A couple with a daughter and a son. They were quite highly regarded, but the son…uhm…he caught interest in satanic rituals.“

„Oh.“, Dean said.

„Yeah. Oh.“, the Sheriff chuckled. „Well, one day everything escalated when he conjured a ritual and the house burned down with the entire family. Since then it has been said that the ghost of the son still haunts the ruins. Many young people go there as a test of courage. Just like in our case.“

„Wow. That’s…“, you didn’t really know what to say.

„Eerie.“, Sam completed the sentence for you and you nodded.

„Yup, you can say that.“, Sheriff Milner agreed. „But they never found satanic shrines, symbols, or weird objects. It is said that he performed the ritual in the basement of the house, but it was completely empty except for a few supplies and tools when the police investigated it. That’s why many say that it’s just a story and that there was something wrong with the furnace in the basement. It makes sense, I guess. That’s where the fire started.“

„Alright.“, Dean spoke now. „But…back to our case. What’s so „weird“ about it?“

Instead of the sheriff, Sam answered: „Maybe the fact that they only found some blood from the teenagers. Not even what could have caused it. Blood only. As if it had appeared out of nowhere. There wasn't even a trace of a fight.“

He must have read about it in the file.

„Completely right.“, the Sheriff nodded. „We have no idea how this could have happened. I mean, yeah. The whole thing looked like a crime scene, there was a lot of blood. But the thing is…everything looked so clean…not one drop of blood was smudged. There were no bloody footsteps or handprints, although, according to Lucas, there certainly should have been some.“

„Huh…“, Dean furrowed his eyebrows. „Well, then we should really ask him about his side of the story.“

„You can do that.“, Sheriff Milner shrugged. „But I wouldn't put too much faith in him. He said it was the ghost of the Griffins' son.“

With those words, he walked to the door and opened it for you.

„If you excuse me now. I have an important phone call in five.“, he smiled apologetically.

„Yeah. No problem. We‘ll call if there are any questions.“, Sam said, then you all walked out of his office and to the Impala.

„Really didn’t expect this.“, you huffed. „No simple salt and burn after all. The son must have been fried enough in the fire, so there must be something else that binds his spirit to the house.“

"You can say that out loud.", Dean ran his fingers through his hair. "Well, let's talk to Lucas and then check the archives to see if we can find out more about the Griffins."

~~~

About 30 Minutes later you entered the mental hospital, which was a few towns away. At the reception, you talked with a nurse who then brought you to the ward where they treated Lucas. Another nurse then took over and guided you to his room.

„Lucas?“, she knocked on his door and entered.

Slowly Dean, Sam, and you followed her and your eyes met a barely 16-year-old boy who stared at you like a deer in headlights. He was in horrible condition and looked absolutely miserable.

„Lucas, those are some FBI Agents. They want to ask you some questions about your friends.“, the nurse introduced you. „Is that okay with you?“

„Uh…y-yeah.“, Lucas gulped and his gaze wandered to the floor.

You knew that this was really uncomfortable for him, but there was no other way. You needed to hear about the night of the disaster.

„Alright.“, the nurse nodded, then she turned to Sam and smiled at him. „I‘ll be outside. Call me if you need me.“

„Yeah, thank you.“, he answered, then you were alone with Lucas.

Right away you could feel the brothers looking at you. They knew you were more sensitive than them so it was best if you did the talking. You took a deep breath.

„Hey Lucas.“, you stepped closer to the blonde boy. „I“m Y/N Page, but you can call me N/N. Those are Agent Plant and Agent Jones. Can I sit next to you?“

You gave him a warm smile when he looked up. He just nodded but you could see him relax a little.

„So…“, you took a seat. „We would like you to tell us what happened if that’s possible. You can take as much time as you need, but it would surely help us with our investigation. We really want to find your friends.“

Immediately Lucas got nervous and he began to tug at his sleeves.

„You would think I‘m nuts…just like the other cops. That’s why I’m here…“, he murmured.

„I won’t, I promise.“, you said and put your hand on his shoulder to make him look up at you. „Try me.“

For a while he didn’t say anything and only chewed on his lip, then he sighed.

„Okay. So…two nights ago my friends and I were hanging out. We drank a little and decided to play truth or dare.“, he told you and took a shaky breath. „After a while, Jake dared Kim to steal something from the basement in the old Griffin House, and yeah, off we went. We were all pretty drunk so we just decided to come inside instead of waiting outside. We were just too curious about everything in there and at first, everything was awesome.“ Now he smiled sadly. „With all of us six shitfaced it wasn’t even spooky anymore… at least until we all had reached the basement. Suddenly it got really cold...like below freezing which was extremely weird. I mean it’s summer.“

Lucas frowned and Dean looked knowingly at Sam.

„And then?“, you asked.

„And…and then.“, the blonde boy seemed to struggle. „Then a man appeared. I don’t know who it was, he was really disfigured, but he started chasing us. A-And then he got Kim. He had this kind of knife and when it touched her there was so much blood…“

His lip trembled and he teared up.

„And that’s the weird part. It touched her, blood spurted out and suddenly she was gone. Not dead gone but gone gone. There was no trace of her besides her blood.“, Lucas exhaled. „After that, the man went after the next person and when he stepped through the blood there was nothing, no footprints, nada. I know that you’re going to call me crazy, but I’m 100 percent sure that he‘s a ghost. I just know it.“

Lucas looked at you desperately.

„Okay.“, you nodded. „I believe you.“

That, he hadn’t expected.

„Wait.“, he gulped. „You do?“

You just nodded again.

„Yes. I believe you, Lucas.“

„But-“, he didn’t know how to go on so you decided to let him into your mostly well-kept secret.

„Well, to be honest, me and those two gentlemen are no FBI agents.“, you told him. „We are hunters and we…well, we hunt monsters.“

Now Lucas was the one who looked at you like you were crazy. At least a little.

„You want to tell me that monsters are real?“, his eyes went wide.

„Yup.“, Dean chimed in. „Vampires, werewolves, you name it.“

„And ghosts.“, you added. „That’s why we are here. We strongly believe that a ghost kidnapped your friends. So no. You aren’t nuts Lucas. Not in the slightest.“

It went silent for a while, but finally, he nodded.

„Alright, good to know.“, he said. „What’s your plan?“

„Well, we wanted to do some more research on the house in the archives and then check on the situation there. We really hope that we find something…or someone.“, Sam explained now.

„I see.“, Lucas hummed. „But…aren’t you scared that the ghost will get you, too?“

Dean chuckled.

„Not really. We‘ve dealt with stuff that was far worse.“

„Okay.“, a little smile formed on the boy's lips. „Uhm…do you need some more information?“

You pondered.

„What did the ghost look like besides being disfigured? Are there any significant details you remember?“, you wanted to know.

„Uhhh…yeah.“, Lucas nodded. „He had a really big mole on his right hand. I saw it when he grabbed Kim.“

„Good. We can work with that.“

A relieved sigh came from the boy.

„Glad to be of help.“, he said, then he gulped. „Good luck then…and…please find my friends.“

„We will. I promise.“, you squeezed his shoulder and stood up. „Thank you for talking to us. We really appreciate it.“

Afterward, you, Sam, and Dean left the room. When you took a look at your watch you noticed that it was nearly 2 pm.

„Wanna grab something to eat first?“, Dean must have noticed it.

„Gladly. It feels like my stomach is about to digest itself.“, you answered and rubbed your belly.

„Then we should really hurry.“, Sam chuckled and you made your way outside.

~~~

„Ugh, I‘m so full.“, Dean leaned back with a pained look on his face and eyed his empty plate.

„No wonder. You ate two burgers.“, Sam snorted while he put the last fork of salad in his mouth.

„I‘m still growing.“, Dean shrugged and you laughed.

„Only in the width.“, you teased him.

The older Winchester narrowed his eyes, but then he couldn’t help but chuckle.

„Fair enough.“

You grinned and grabbed another fry from your plate. Now both brothers started a conversation while you finished your food and when you were done you did a big stretch.

Suddenly there was a painful sting coming from the wound on your stomach. You furrowed your brows and crossed both your arms in front of your chest.

„Dammit.“, you thought. „Hopefully it didn’t tear.“

You stood up.

„I‘m going to the restroom.“, you said and Dean looked at you.

„You alright?“, he asked.

„Shouldn’t have eaten those last fries.“, you made up an excuse even though you felt perfectly fine.

„Oh. If you’re going to puke, just scream and we’re coming.“, he offered cockily and you rolled your eyes.

„Ha, fucking, ha.“

You left and when you were in the bathroom you pulled up your shirt to look at the cut. It was still red, but there was no blood so everything seemed to be fine. Sighing you rummaged through your pants pocket and pulled out a painkiller. Taking medication right away wasn’t something you normally did, but on one hand, your wound really hurt now and on the other hand you couldn't afford to be weak from pain later.

Still, you looked at the pill for a while and pondered.

„It‘ll help.“, you thought and then you took it.

~~~

„Okay, boys. Let’s look for some pictures of the family.“, you said while sitting down at a table in the archives.

Dean grabbed a file from the box that the archivist had given you and started with his search. You did the same and soon the older Winchester found a family portrait. Both of you examined the hand of the son in order to identify him as the ghost.

„Huh…weird. No big mole.“, Dean furrowed his eyebrows.

Next, you looked at the father's hand. He didn’t have it either.

„Maybe the picture doesn’t show it?“, you murmured while squinting your eyes and taking a closer look at the picture.

„I don’t think so…hey, there’s another photograph.“, the dirty blonde snatched another document out of the box.

„William Griffin (18) and Jonathan Griffin (54)“ was written at the bottom

It showed father and son. Just perfect. At least that’s what you thought.

„No mole.“, you sighed.

„That makes no sense.“, Dean huffed.

„Hey! Look at this.“, Sam suddenly exclaimed and you both looked up from the picture.

„What is it?“, you got up and around the table to stand next to the younger Winchester.

„I found a file with some details on the family’s death.“, he explained and pointed to a passage in the text. „Here. It wasn’t just the family, it was also the daughter's boyfriend. Apparently her brother didn’t like him and decided to lure him into the basement in order to kill him during a ritual.“

„What?“, Dean had joined you and his eyes flew over the words. „The hell?“

„Yup. He drugged him, then he put him on fire, and yeah…you know the rest.“

„Damn, that’s really fucked up.“, you ran your fingers through your hair and sighed.

„But that wasn’t all.“, Sam went on.

„Not?“, his brother looked at him confused.

Sam shook his head, while he was grinning a little.

„Look at that.“

He revealed a picture behind the document. It showed a couple. They seemed to be really happy.

„That‘s Eleanor Griffin and her boyfriend Tate Mayham.“, the brunette explained. „And if you look at his right hand…“

„The mole…“, you were astonished.

What a twist of events.

„100 points to you, N/N.“, Sam nodded. „We have our ghost.“

~~~

After doing another hour of research you decided to drive back to the motel. All of you needed a little rest and most importantly you had to prepare before visiting the Griffin House.

With a huff, you sprawled out on your bed and heard Dean chuckling.

„Was it that exhausting?“, he asked while he was sitting down on his side of the bed.

You turned your head to him.

„Not really, I guess.“, you said. „I‘m just a little out of shape.“

„Well.“, he shrugged. „I think you're doing pretty good.“

The green-eyed hunter smiled at you.

„Thanks, Dean.“, you reciprocated the smile and sat up with a yawn. „I‘m going to freshen up a bit.“

With those words, you grabbed some more comfortable clothes and went to the bathroom. Only when the door closed you allowed yourself to quit acting.

„Ow.“, you murmured and pulled up your shirt.

Your wound had started to hurt again some while ago and right now it felt like it was on fire. That was also the reason why you had huffed when you had let yourself fall on the bed. It had been an attempt to mask a painful hiss.

When you saw the cut your eyes went wide. Now there was some blood.

„Shit.“, you exhaled.

You cleaned it with some water and grabbed the ointment that was sitting on the sink. Afterward, you took some bandages from the first aid kit and put them on. It hurt a lot so you couldn’t help but wince. Next, you went on and changed into the clothes you had brought. During that, some of the Advil you had sneaked in your suit's pants fell out of it and you crouched to pick it up.

„Fucking hell.“, you cursed under your breath.

This position made the pain only worse. Nevertheless, you went on to collect the pills and when you got up again you looked at them skeptically. You knew it really wasn't good to take too many painkillers, but you could really use them right now.

Chewing on your lip you thought about what Dean had said to you yesterday. He had wanted you to let him know when you were in pain, but you just didn’t want to worry him. Right before now, it hadn’t even been that bad.

„Okay.“, you took a deep breath. „One last pill. If it doesn’t get better, I‘ll tell him.“

Down your throat it went and you got out of the bathroom.

„As much as I like you in suits, this outfit looks way better on you.“, your heard Dean say and turned to him.

You tried to prevent yourself from blushing by saying: „But only because I’m wearing your flannel.“

The older Winchester grinned.

„Maybe. It really s-“

„Come on, Dean. Stop flirting, we need to make some more rock salt bullets.“, Sam suddenly interrupted him, and to be honest you were kind of disappointed.

You really wanted to know what he had tried to say.

„You’re no fun, Sammy.“, Dean rolled his eyes.

He continued with his work and you were left clueless.

„So…“, you cleared your throat. „Anything I could do?“

„Mhm…“, the blonde hunter thought. „Maybe you could clean my gun. I think there’s still some vampire brain on it from the last hunt.“

„Ew.“, you wrinkled your nose.

„Here you go, princess.“, he smirked and gave you the gun with the white handle.

Sighing you took it from him.

„Thanks…“, you pressed your lips together and started with your task.

~~~

Around 6 pm you all were finally ready and got in the car. During the ride, you thought about the pills again. You really hated that you just couldn’t tell the Winchester brothers about your pain, but what you hated more was Dean being worried about you. He wouldn’t have let you go with them if he knew about your condition. That, you knew for a fact. All you wanted to do was to finally make it up to the two men.

Yes, Dean had already told you that it wasn’t your fault that the werewolf hunt had gone wrong. You only had wanted the best for the girl you had been trying to save. Sometimes shit just happens, but you couldn’t accept it. You still felt horrible for causing so much trouble and nearly getting Sam and Dean hurt, too. To be honest you didn’t really care that you got hurt, but you couldn’t deal with the fact, that your friends could’ve died because of you.

Now you wanted to show them, that you could do better. You wanted to show them, that they shouldn’t worry about you, that you could handle yourself, and that you could get out of this hunt unharmed. That’s what this all was about. You just wanted everything to be normal again. Only you three on the road, hunting whatever monster you could find, and no worried looks from Sam and Dean.

You huffed quietly and looked at your two friends. That’s when you realized that you were close to reaching your destination. Not even a minute later Dean turned off the Impala.

„Okay, let’s do this.“, he said, then he opened the car door and got out.

Sam and you did the same and right away your gaze met the Griffin House. You had seen pictures in the archives of the once beautiful home, but now it was just a ruin, with charred stone walls, some of which were already crumbling and slowly being taken over by plants. The roof was completely gone.

Dean whistled in astonishment before going to the trunk and opening it.

„Here.“, he handed you the shotguns with the rock salt bullets and also grabbed a crowbar. „Just in case.“

He smiled at you, but you had some problems to also do so. You just couldn’t forget about the things that had gone through your head earlier.

„You good, sweetheart?“, the green-eyed hunter asked now while frowning.

„Uh, yeah.“, you nodded. „A little nervous, I guess.“

His face softened and he laid his hand on your shoulder.

„I won’t let anything happen to you.“, he said. „I promise. You’re safe with me.“

You knew, that he meant good with this. It was just the total opposite of what you wanted to happen. Dean shouldn’t have to protect you. Not like last time. Now you wanted to prove, that you could still do it on your own.

„Thanks, Dean.“, you answered nevertheless.

It wouldn’t be good to make him more suspicious of you.

„Alright.“, he let go of you and looked to Sam. „Y/N and I will check the basement. Do you mind going through the rest of the house?“

The younger Winchester shook his head.

„I can manage that.“, he said. „I‘ll join you when I’m done.“

With that, he went into the house.

„Welp.“, Dean sighed. „Let’s go inside, too.“

You nodded so he went ahead and you followed him. The first thing you noticed was the remains of the burned furniture. Trying to imagine what the shelf in the living room had looked like you inspected it a little closer.

„I don’t think that Casper’s hiding in there.“, Dean chuckled.

Glaring at him you showed him your middle finger.

„Oh, you don’t say.“

Now he was mockingly pouting.

„I was just trying to be funny.“, he said.

You snorted.

„Why, yes of course.“, you nodded and smirked. „Your dad jokes are absolutely hilarious. Ha-ha-ha.“

Shortly after you had set in motion again Dean caught up to you.

„Hey! My jokes are no dad jokes!“, now he was really offended.

„Yes, they are.“, you grinned.

„No, they‘re no-“

A loud pang interrupted him. It came from the basement to which the staircase you were standing in front of led to.

„Well, shit.“, you sighed. „I love when this happens.“

„Me either.“, Dean straightened and raised his shotgun. „But we have no other choice.“

Slowly he made his way down. After you had unlocked your gun you did the same and felt your heart rate increase. It wasn’t too dark so you could see pretty well, but you had a really bad feeling about this.

„Dean!“, you hissed.

The green-eyed hunter was almost in the middle of the room now, looking around while pulling out the EMF.

„Huh, maybe it was a rat.“, it showed nothing.

Although this should have calmed your nerves a little the weird feeling didn’t go away.

„Dean. This doesn’t feel ri-“, suddenly the staircase cracked right beneath you and you took a hard fall to the ground.

„Y/N!“, Dean shouted and was with you immediately. „You alright?“

He helped you up as you grimaced in pain.

„Y-yeah. I think so - Ow!“, he had brushed your irritated wound and you jolted back from his touch.

„Dammit!“, he cursed when he noticed. „Did your cut tear?“

The blonde man pulled up your tank top a little only to reveal the bloody bandage.

„What…?“, his eyes met yours, and instantly your heart dropped.

You opened your mouth: „I-“

„You promised.“, he huffed and shook his head in disappointment.

Sighing you looked to the side.

„I know…but-“

„But what?“, Dean snapped. „Why would you do something so stupid? Why would you go on a hunt knowing fully well that you’re hurt?“

After those words had left his mouth it was silent for a while. You knew that he was right and you hated it.

„Why would you do something like that, Y/N?“, he asked again when you didn’t answer.

Chewing on your lip you shrugged. Another huff escaped his lips.

„I want you to tell me. Tell my, Y/N, why would you put yourself in such danger?“

When he said your name you looked up and it felt like his green eyes pierced right through your own. You gulped, knowing that you couldn’t escape the truth now. There was no way out. Sure, you could just be stubborn, but you hated when Dean was mad at you. More than anything. Him being disappointed in you wasn’t something you could handle.

„Alright…“, you murmured quietly. „I… I just want everything to be normal again.“

Dean frowned.

„What do you mean?“

„I mean…“, you took a deep breath. „I just wanted to prove that I could handle it…I wanted to show you that I could finish this hunt without fucking up.“

Dean was still looking at you, but now his gaze got softer.

„Sweetheart…“, he sighed. „I already told you, that you didn’t fuck up.“

„Still.“, you turned away from him and crossed your arms in front of your chest. „I wanted to show you that you don’t need to worry about me…and that I won’t get you and Sam hurt again.“

You only mumbled the last words, but Dean had perfectly understood you.

„This is what this all is about?“, he asked. „Come on. Look at me, Y/N.“

He softly grabbed your shoulder and turned you towards him. Nevertheless, you avoided his eyes.

„Sweetheart.“, Dean put his fingers under your chin and gently lifted your face.

Slowly you obeyed.

„There we go.“, he whispered once your eyes met his own.

Your throat got dry and you could feel yourself starting to tremble from all the nervousness.

„Now I want you to hear me out.“, he continued. „I don’t care if I get h-“

You noticed a shadow from the corner of your eye and your breath started to freeze. Dean went silent and just then a man appeared behind him, a kitchen knife lifted to sink into him.

„Move!“, you pushed the green-eyed hunter to the side and just barely dodged the blade.

Tate Mayham‘s ghost screamed angrily and already swung to the next blow. Now, however, Dean was prepared and aimed his shotgun at him to pull the trigger immediately. The spirit dissolved into a cloud of dust and Dean looked at you, breathing heavily.

„Are you hurt?“

You shook your head. In the next second Tate appeared again and Dean tried to shoot him again but failed. The gun flew out of his hand and he himself bumped into a wall.

„Dean!“, you shouted as you aimed your own weapon toward the spirit.

Tate‘s head turned and with a flick of his hand your gun was taken from you and your back hit the wall behind you.

„Son of a bitch!“, Dean cursed while he was trying to get out of the invisible grasp.

The man smirked and got closer to him. In a panic, you looked around for a solution and your eyes fell on the crowbar that Dean had dropped during the fight. You just needed to get to it.

The distance between him and Tate was getting smaller and you struggled to get away from the wall. The more Tate focused on Dean, the easier it became for you, and eventually, you succeeded. You immediately grabbed the crowbar and sprinted to Dean's rescue.

"Don't!" you heard him call while you were already swinging your arm.

By then it was already too late.

Tate turned to you, pointed the knife at your stomach, and stabbed you. Unbearable pain shot through you and at the same time a feeling you had never felt before, then everything went black.

~~~

„Y/N!“, Dean screamed while your blood splattered all over him.

You were gone, but the ghost was still there. Grinning he looked at the green-eyed hunter whose panic turned into anger.

„You motherfucker! What did you do to her?!“

„She’s mine now.“, Tate answered in an eerie voice. „And you’ll be, too.“

Just as he lifted his knife again a gunshot rang through the room and the spirit disappeared. Sam stood at the end of the staircase, breathing heavily. His eyes widened when he noticed all your blood.

„Where’s Y/N?“, he asked Dean who could finally move again.

„He took her, Sammy.“, his brother said, his voice shaking. „I-I couldn’t stop him.“

His eyes were locked on the red liquid that was all over him and the floor. The sheriff and Lucas were right. It looked like it had appeared out of nowhere and he couldn’t explain why there was so much of it. It made no sense. Yes, he had stabbed you in the stomach, but normally blood doesn’t just splutter out like this.

„Shit.“, Sam breathed out.

„We have to find her. He must have taken her somewhere in the house.“, Dean grabbed his shotgun from the floor and went to the next room of the basement.

It was just a storage room for food and there was no trace of you.

„Dammit!“

He rushed past his brother and back upstairs to the first floor. Sam followed him.

„Dean, I don’t think she’ll be in the rest of the house.“, the younger Winchester spoke. „I already looked through every room and there was nobody.“

„Nobody?“, his brother's steps got slower until he stopped.

„Yes.“, Sam huffed. „Everything seemed normal if you can say that.“

They both went silent for a while and pondered.

„We should go to the car.“, Sam eventually suggested. „I stole some floor plans from the archives. Maybe Y/N‘s trapped in a hidden room.“

„Alright.“, Dean nodded. „If it helps us find her. I won’t leave without her.“

He sternly looked at the brunette.

„I know.“, Sam said just like he knew something, then he set into motion again.

Just when they reached the entrance Tate appeared in front of it. Sam‘s gun flew out of his hands and he crashed into the cabinet next to him, but Dean had been fast enough and already shot the ghost.

„Not now you son of a bitch!“, he hissed. „You good, Sam?“

„Yeah.“, the taller Winchester got up from the floor and followed Dean outside.

Thankfully nothing was left of the door that lead inside the house, so the spirit couldn’t trap them.

„Okay. Where is it?“, Dean asked impatiently as Sam searched through the glove compartment.

„Here.“, he brought the plans to the engine hood and spread them out.

They both looked over them until Sam frowned.

„Wait.“, he snatched the map of the second floor. „I didn’t see that room when I went through the house.“

He pointed to a little room that was located between the parent’s room and Eleanor’s room.

„There were only two doors, not three.“, Sam murmured as he inspected the plan a little closer.

„That must be it.“, Dean nodded. „Let’s go back inside.“

„Yeah, just let me take the sledgehammer out of the trunk. We might need to tear down a wall.“, Sam said and already made his way to the back of the Impala.

Afterward, both men entered the house again. Dean already held his gun ready while Sam went ahead. Soon they were standing in the hallway that led to the parent's bedroom and Eleanor’s room. Sam had been right. There were only two doors.

„They must have bricked up the door that led to the small room.“, Dean spoke.

„Yeah. We should try to destroy it.“

And so Sam took the first swing.

~~~

„Fuck.“, trembling you were holding your stomach.

The blood had already soaked through your tank top and now spread down your jeans. For the first time since the incident had happened, you looked up to check where you were and your gaze fell on five teenagers. They were huddled up in the corner of the small room and looked at you in horror.

„You’re the missing teenagers!“, you realized.

You tried to get up from the floor but your wounds hurt so bad that your legs gave in and you fell down again.

„A-Ah.“, you grimaced and one of the boys slowly approached you.

He was holding his shoulder and blood was all over his clothes, but he didn’t seem to bleed anymore.

„You should sit still. Maybe you’ll stop bleeding then.“, he said. „It worked for most of us. I‘m Jake by the way.

„Y/N.“, you introduced yourself and looked him up and down. „How are you all holding up?“

Now your gaze wandered to the other teenagers again. One of the girls was looking really sick.

„Kim has lost a lot of blood…I- I don’t know if she’ll make it for another day. But the rest of us seems to be alright. We all have pretty bad wounds, though.“

„Okay.“, you nodded and looked back to your stomach.

Blood was still oozing out of you but it seemed to be less than before which was a good sign.

„What are you even doing here?“, another boy asked now.

You turned to him while wincing in pain.

„Well, me and my friends are trying to save you.“, you sighed. „But the ghost got me.“

„But how?“, Jake wanted to know. „I mean…we’re all trapped inside this room. I don’t even know what it’s supposed to be. It’s all full of cobwebs. We found some candles which we lit so we wouldn't sit in the dark but...it's really spooky.“

Now you took a good look around. Your eyes widened and you swallowed. Even through the cobwebs, you could see the skulls and satanic objects laid out. This probably was William‘s altar room.

„Well.“, you sighed. „Sam and Dean will find a solution. I’m sure of it.“

You tried to smile at the teenagers, but it was really hard while being in that much pain.

„But what if he comes back again?“, the sickly-looking girl now asked.

„He came back for you?“, you frowned.

„Yes.“, the other girl nodded. „He…he grabbed Kim and Michael and…I don’t know how to describe it…it was like he tried to suck some parts of their soul out of them. Both of them were totally out of it afterward.“

„Yeah, it…it kinda felt like that.“, a boy said now, probably Michael.

„Well, that must be why he’s so powerful.“, you thought to yourself.

„Alright.“, you cleared your throat. „Did you see anything that’s made out of iron around here?“

„Uh…“, Jake scratched his neck. „We didn’t really want to touch that stuff. To be honest we’re a little scared that it’s cursed.“

Slowly you nodded.

„I feel you. But normally it should be alright. Most people who catch interest in satanic stuff don’t know the real deal.“, you tried to stand up again and huffed in pain.

You were still wobbly on your legs, but it didn’t feel like they would give in again.

„Easy there.“, Jake was right next to you and tried to steady you.

„Why do you know all that stuff?“, the sick girl who should be Kim asked now.

„Well, I think all of you will agree with me when I say that ghosts are real.“, you began to tell. „And me and my friends, we get rid of them…and uh…other monsters. We’re hunters.“

All of them looked at you like you were crazy.

„You hunt those things? Voluntarily?“, Michael furrowed his eyebrows. „That’s completely nuts!“

You shrugged and winced because this movement really hurt.

„Someone‘s gotta do it.“, you sighed. „Sooo…iron. Let’s look.“

Jake went with you and you both checked the altar. The other teenagers slowly approached you.

„What about that?“, Kim pointed to a heavy-looking candle holder.

You reached for it and removed all the cobwebs from it. An amulet with a cross hung around it which you found a little weird. Nevertheless, you could confirm that it was in fact made out of iron.

„Yup. That’s good.“, you said and removed the candle and the necklace and put them on the altar. „The other one should be made out of iron, too.“

You had spotted another candle holder under a whole lot of cobwebs. Jake took it and looked at you in question.

„So, what’s the thing with iron?“, he wanted to know.

„It repels spirits. If the ghost comes back again you can fight him off with it.“, you explained.

Just like your words were a signal the candles suddenly started to flicker.

„Oh no, he’s coming!“, Michael exclaimed and he and the other kids hid behind you and Jake.

With one hand on your wound and the other around the candle holder, you looked around carefully. In the next moment, all hell broke loose. Tate appeared and when he saw the candle holders, all the furnishings flew across the room.

„Where is it?!“, he roared while all the teenagers were screaming in horror.

When his eyes met yours he lifted you into the air and you lost your grip on the candle holder. It fell down as you cried out in pain.

„Where is it?! Where’s my necklace?“, he screamed and that’s when the realization kicked in.

The amulet was the object that still bound him to this house. You had put it on the altar, but now that the whole room was in chaos, you had lost sight of it.

„Where is it?!“, Tate asked again and you could feel the air slowly being cut off from you.

„I-I don’t know.“, you croaked and tried to pull away the invisible force from your neck.

Struggling you kicked around with your feet, feeling your wounds tear open again and blood running down your body.

„You do.“, Tate came closer. „Tell me!“

It was like you could feel his breath on your skin and it horrified you. Something like this shouldn’t happen with a ghost. He should be dead, not breathing.

„TELL ME!“, he shouted, then he opened his mouth and your whole body started to tingle.

Michael was right. It felt like he was sucking your soul out of you.

„D-Do something!“, you begged with your last bit of energy and looked to Jake who just stood there frozen.

His gaze met yours and thankfully it was like you had flipped a switch. The black-haired boy ran to Tate and swung his candle holder through him.

Suddenly the force was gone and you hit the ground hard while an agonizing scream ripped from your throat.

~~~

A loud scream echoed through the house and Deans's eyes widened.

„Y/N.“, he whispered.

The green-eyed hunter knew your scream way too well for his own good and it shook him through his core.

„Shit!“, Sam cursed and let the sledgehammer sink.

He took a quick look at the map to see where the door had been located. Luckily he stood right in front of it and so he swung the hammer forcefully against the bricks. Stone crumbled and the screaming from the inside of the room got louder.

All of a sudden Dean ran to his side, gun ready, and pulled the trigger. Sam turned his head and realized, that Tate was standing in the hallway. He looked furious.

„Go on, Sam! I’ll handle this!“, Dean shouted, so the taller brother went to work again.

Next, the blonde hunter got closer to the ghost.

„You fucking bastard.“, he growled. „What’s wrong with you? Those people did nothing to you! Why are you hurting them?“

He had the shotgun still aimed at Tate and wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if needed.

„He did nothing to help me. Will’s father watched him drench me in gasoline before he put me on fire!“, the spirit shouted.

Dean furrowed his eyebrows.

„Why would he do that? Wasn’t William the one who was into those rituals?“, he asked.

Tate snorted.

„Well, that didn’t stop Jonathan from hating me. He hated, that his little girl loved me more than him, so they got together to kill me.“, he clenched his fists. „What they didn’t expect was that they would pay with their own death. When I died, I immediately came back as a spirit and I just freaked out and the fire got out of control. My Eleanor lost her life too and I just can’t forgive them for it.“

Dean sighed, then he shook his head.

„Still those people aren’t William or Jonathan!“, he said.

„But they mocked my death.“, Tate got closer to him. „They visited this place for fun, not to mourn over me. To them, this place was just a joke, a place for a dare, because someone died in a ritual and they thought that William was still haunting the house. Well…actually I am, so with their first step into it, they made their own grave…and granted me even more power. Maybe I‘ll be able to even defeat death itself…maybe I can bring back my Eleanor and be happy again.“

And after those words, Dean pulled the trigger. All alarm bells were ringing now. This ghost wasn’t just a simple salt and burn, no, he was really dangerous.

The rock salt bullet hit Tate, but nothing happened. Deans's eyes widened.

„It’s working.“, the man in front of him grinned. „ I think what little energy your little girlfriend had left finally made me strong enough.“

With a flick of his hand, Dean crashed into Sam, who had managed to punch a big hole into the wall.

~~~

Your ears were ringing and everything just felt like it was far away.

„Y/N!“, you heard Jake yell dully.

He shook you and you blinked weakly.

„D-Dean…where’s…?“, you managed to mumble.

„The tall one punched a hole in the wall, but the ghost just got them! It’s looking really bad“, he said and you looked at him horrified.

You needed to get to them. Jake tried to help you up, but you screamed in pain. It just felt like your body was on fire.

„Sorry.“, the boy looked around in panic. „What should we do?“

„The necklace.“, you croaked.

It was the only solution you had now.

„Necklace? The one that was hung around the candle holder?“, the black-haired boy stood up.

Nodding you tried to sit up, but it literally felt like you were fighting for your life. Wincing you managed to crawl to the wall that was next to you and leaned against it. During that Jake had told the other teenagers to help search for the amulet.

Breathing weakly, you watched them and a single tear ran down your cheek. You felt useless and were worried sick about Sam and Dean. Especially Dean. On the verge of death, you just wished, that you had told him how you felt about him. Now he might never know.

Almost as if to add more salt to the wound, you could hear Sam and Dean yelling as they fought with the ghost. You knew there was real urgency now for the necklace to be found.

And just then Michael shouted: „I got the necklace!“

Relief spread through your body, but in the next second you were incredibly scared. Tate suddenly appeared and went for Michael who looked at him in horror.

„Fuck!“, you cursed.

A new wave of energy waved through you and you knew that it might be your last, but you didn’t care for now. Now you just wanted everyone to be safe. Even if it might not include you.

Your eyes scanned the room for the candle holder and when you found it, you supported yourself on the wall and stood up. Even though your legs felt like they were made out of jelly you managed to grab the iron object and then you just ran to Tate and stabbed the candle holder into his back. Shockingly, he just didn’t disappear. He screamed in pain and turned to you.

„You bitch!“

Now he lifted you into the air again, strangling you.

Just then Sam and Dean stormed into the room.

„Y/N!“, you heard the green hunter yell. „Let her go!“

The last part already sounded dull, as the oxygen was cut off from you and you were slowly losing consciousness. You only noticed that Tate pushed Sam and Dean into the wall behind them.

„The necklace!“, Michael suddenly shouted. „She told us to look for it!“

From the corner of your eye, you could see him holding up the amulet. Sam immediately knew what had to be done.

„Burn it!“ he yelled and you could just barely hear it.

Your time ran out and you didn’t know anymore if you would make it out alive. Everything slowly started to fade away and just when you thought, that this would be the end for you, you felt your body fall down and heard Tate screaming.

Even though your body hurt like hell all over you didn’t make a sound. You just felt too weak and numb for it.

Dean was right with you as Tate burned to his final death and called your name again and again.

„Come on, sweetheart.“, he said. „You need to keep your eyes open.“

As you looked at him you only saw a blurred version of the man you loved. Still, you smiled.

„You‘re here.“, you whispered.

A tear escaped you and you weakly stretched out your hand for him.

„Don’t do this, Y/N.“, now Deans's voice sounded frightened, you could even feel him tremble. „Don’t die on me. Not today.“

Breathing slowly you laid your hand on his cheek.

„It’s okay.“, you croaked. „You’re safe…you’ll be alright.“

„No.“, Dean shook his head as his voice cracked and he started to cry. „I won’t. Stay with me.“

Your hand slowly sank.

„I need you.“

The darkness gently encased you.

„You can’t go. Not when I haven’t told you how much y-“

~~~

A monotonous beeping echoed through your ears and you grimaced. Everything hurt, but it wasn't as bad as before, didn't feel like hell anymore. You blinked dazedly and finally, you could see that you were lying in a hospital bed. Slowly you sat up as your gaze wandered through the room and eventually, you noticed Dean.

He was sleeping in a chair right next to you. Even though sleep was meant to be something gentle and relaxing, his eyebrows were furrowed and his whole body was tense.

You gulped as all the memories from the last hunt came back to you and you wondered how you were still alive. So much blood had streamed out of your wounds and you could remember how you had felt weaker and weaker, how your vision had gotten darker and how, in the end, you had only felt numb.

Sighing you ran your fingers through your hair, then you gently laid your hand on Deans's shoulder and softly said his name. When he didn’t wake up, you repeated yourself a little louder and finally, you heard him groan as he stirred.

His eyes fluttered open and when he saw that you were awake he opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Shyly you smiled and the next second he was hugging you.

„I thought, I lost you.“, he whispered and leaned a little back to look at you. „Don’t you ever do that again.“

„Wasn’t like I volunteered to nearly get killed.“, you chuckled, but he still looked at you sternly.

„I mean it, Y/N.“, Dean said. „You really need to promise me that you’ll tell me when you’re hurt. And that you won’t ever let me think that you just died in my arms again. The ambulance told me, that they had to reanimate you three times!“

In shock, you just sat in your bed and gulped.

„Alright.“, you finally nodded. „I promise.“

Dean cocked an eyebrow to make sure you meant it.

„I‘m serious.“, you said and with that, he pulled you into his arms again.

„I just can’t lose you.“, you nearly couldn’t understand his words because his voice was barely a whisper.

„You won’t.“, you answered quietly and his face slowly met yours.

While his hand gently touched your cheek he swallowed.

„I…“, he struggled to say the words. „I need you, Y/N. You…you mean so much to me. And I don’t ever want to go through that another time.“

You stayed silent for a few seconds and let those words sink in, then you smiled.

„You mean a lot to me too, Dean.“, you told him. „It’s just…I didn’t want to worry you. I wanted to get the job done and make you believe in me again.“

Now the green-eyed hunter backed away a little and looked at you in confusion.

„Why would you think, that I didn’t believe in you?“, he asked.

You shrugged.

„Both you and Sam just treated me like…like I was weak, like I was a snowflake, in the last few weeks. I get that you care for me, but…I only wanted everything to be normal again.“, you sighed. „No more asking if I’m okay all the time, no more telling me, that you‘ll protect me.“

Dean looked at you for a while.

„I see.“, he nodded. „But…you know…I don’t worry about you because you’re hurt. Well, I mean, part of me does, of course, but…you’re constantly on my mind…because…“ He gulped. „Because I’m in love with you.“

He had laid his hand on your face again and watched your reaction nervously.

„Oh…“, you didn’t ever imagine hearing those words.

„It’s okay if you don’t feel the same way. I know that I’m-“, he started to ramble.

„No!“, you panicked now. „I…I feel the same.“

Deans's eyes widened a little.

„You do?“

„Yes.“, you smiled sheepishly. „I‘ve had these feelings for a while now.“

He started to smile as well, then he gave you that indefinable look and his face moved closer to your own. His eyes kept glancing at your mouth and when you were only a few inches apart, he stopped.

„This okay?“, he whispered.

Instead of answering, you just closed the gap and placed your lips on his. Cautiously at first, then bolder as he reciprocated the kiss. You buried your fingers in his hair as he leaned closer to you and your whole body started to tingle.

Finally, breathing heavily, you broke apart and leaned forehead against forehead.

„I wish I had told you sooner.“, the green-eyed hunter murmured and suddenly the door opened.

Sam stepped in and you both looked at him a little shocked. Clearing his throat, Dean backed off.

„Uhm…did I interrupt something?“, the younger Winchester asked.

„Kind of.“, you chuckled.

„Well, fucking finally.“, he said and closed the door behind him.

„What do you mean?“, Dean frowned.

„The mutual pining was really obvious, you know.“, Sam smirked.

Both Dean and you looked at him flabbergasted.

„Why didn’t you tell us?“, you asked.

„I don’t know.“, he shrugged. „I thought, that you would figure it out sooner or later. And it seems like you did.“

You chuckled.

„Yeah. Yeah, we did.“, you looked at Dean and you just knew that everything was alright now.

#dean winchester x reader #supernatural #dean winchester #dean x you #salt and burn #dean winchester fic #dean winchester oneshot #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fluff #dean winchester angst

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tangpmsnoonan · 2 years

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You may possess listened to a podcast or a couple of or perhaps simply noticed about podcasting, nevertheless how do an individual start podcasting your self? Especially if you are a Dean jerrod or interested in starting an Orlando Podcast? Podcasting basically the most difficult thing to carry out, but it can be challenging to come to be a successful podcaster. Many people, after they start a podcast, desire to be so standard that anyone can want to listen closely. But that will not really charm to anyone!

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#podcast

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taeyohonic · 4 years

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Zero Percent

Summary: There is a zero percent chance the Park Jimin likes you, right?

Pairing: Jimin x fem!Reader

Genre: College AU, Golden Boy!Jimin, Actor!Jimin, Group Project Hell

Warnings: swearwords, one scene where the reader gets groped without consent (obviously not by Jimin)

Words: 5k

Monday – 9:47 am – PoliSci lecture

Everybody likes Park Jimin. Not only is he the star of the drama department – making the Dean cry with his performance as Hamlet during freshmen year. No, he is also the head of the Environmental Club and part of the most elusive fraternities on campus.

Park Jimin is kind, smart and handsome. The guy is constantly surrounded by fellow frat brothers, drooling girls and you even heard a story about a stray kitten following Jimin around, resulting in him adopting the little cat.

So, you aren’t really surprised when he doesn’t remember you – you only share two classes and one lecture with him. It does sting a bit, though.

“And you are?”, the golden star asks, looking at you with friendly distance in his eyes.

“_______”, you answer.

It follows an awkward silence – all four of you staring at each other with unease. There is no greater hell than group projects. You’ve got no friends, or even acquaintances, in this course. It isn’t like you are a recluse. You just have a very small circle of friends. And you don’t have any desire to change that.

“Well”, Jimin begins and unlocks his iPhone, “let’s start with a shared google docs.” Now he hands his device over to the girl with thick rimmed glasses. She looks like murder and you are woman enough to admit you’re a bit afraid of her. She does start your 8 am lecture with an energy drink and cold pizza. every. single. week.

“We could meet up before class next week to divide the parts among us?”, the guy to your right offers and you haven’t ever heard him speak before. He usually just sits in class and doodles in his sketchbooks. The red one he is resting on right now is the third book you’ve seen him use in the last month.

Your eyes widen as his words reach your tired brain. Meeting up before class? Before 8 am?

The girl gives you Jimin’s phone and you add your contacts half-minded. There is not even a single crack on his screen. Is this guy even real?

“How about after class?”, Jimin suggests instead and winks at you. You nearly drop his phone when you see his left eye closing in mischief. Did Jimin really just wink at you?

“Nah, I’m packed till practice”, the guy answers and takes the iPhone out of your hands.

“What about this weekend?”, the girl asks and opens her calendar.

“I could manage Sunday afternoon”, Jimin says and stores his phone back in his jeans. His way too tight jeans. The jeans you’ve been staring at all through lunch today. He was wrestling for … uhm… fun with one of his brothers – Jungkook you think – and his ass was just… very present pressed against the denim.

“Sounds good”, the sketch guy says and the girl nods in agreement. Now all of them look at you; the person that did in fact have plans for Sunday. But you doubt they’d be very understanding of your self-care day off from the week.

“Yeah, sure”, you agree reluctantly and fish out your own smartphone, an old grandfather of Jimin’s model with many cracks littering the screen. Without looking up, you delete the do not disturb block in your calendar and create a new appointment: group project politics.

“We can meet up at the PoliSci library; I’ll get us a study room”, Jimin says and stands up – his tights directly in your eyesight. There is a hint of blush on your cheeks as you pack your things together yourself.

“Great”, the other guy cheers – way too enthusiastic – and departs from your group. His sketchbook is raised as he waves at you. You turn around to the others and they are both gone too. Well, what did you expect from a group assignment worth 15% of your grade with random people? Did you see Jimin’s back as he exited the lecture room? Maybe. And did your eyes lay a bit longer on his butt? It’d be a crime if they didn’t.

Wednesday – 10:03 pm – dorm room

“No way!”, your roommate shouts, her voice a shrill pain in your head. “Not the Park” You just nod, your late-night ramen hot on your tongue.

“How did you manage that?”, she asks and nibs on some seaweed crackers.

“Random assignment”, you mutter as you swallow down your food.

“You lucky, lucky bitch!” She throws one half-eaten cracker in your face.

“It’s a group project, not a blind date, Jisoo.”

There is a zero percent chance that the Park Jimin is even slightly interested in you. But then you remember his wink and you up your chances to three percent.

“Let’s get some beer to celebrate!”, your roommate suggests and totally ignores your unenthusiastic posture. The day was long – after working a shift at the kiosk on campus.

“I’m tired”, you whine, but your body moves as you get dragged to your feet by Jisoo. “My noodles”, you cry. She just rolls her eyes and pushes the warm cup into your hands. “Eat them on the way.”

You grumble the whole walk to the kiosk you worked just a few hours ago. There are so much more options to get two cans of beer at 10 pm on a Wednesday, but you do get a 5% employee discount – plus the 20% for being a student.

“Do you think he’ll invite you to the fancy parties?”, Jisoo wonders and swings your entwined hands between you. Your other hand holds your food – you want to save the rest up for drinking.

“Before or after I bear his heir?” Jimin’s fraternity is legendary for its exclusive parties. In contrast to most frats, theirs is known for the tight circle of invites. These events had a hand-picked guestlist, no cheap alcohol in sight. There were even rumors that Jimin makes all partygoers use reusable cups to reduce plastic trash. You do remember reading about this in one of the columns of your university paper.

“You’ll be fat after birth, so preferably before”, she reasons. You nod – true.

“I ain’t see any fat”, a male voice slurs and then you feel hands on your butt. You turn around, recognizing a squeeze before the hand leaves your body. As you see the guy who touched you, you feel fear setting in your bones. There are three of them and they do look very drunk. The darkened ally is not the most favorable spot to meet jerks. You can see the light from your store coming up ahead, but it’s late and deserted and they touched you.

“HEY”, Jisoo shouts and moves in front of your body. “NO TOUCHING WITHOUT CONCENT!”

His two friends are shocked by her loud outbreak and take a step back, but the toucher is still standing his ground. “Yo, be chill, bitch”, he says. Oh, he did not. Before you can even think about it, your arm moves on its own account. The lukewarm soup and the noodles splash in his face, coating his shirt and dripping on the cement. The guy’s eyes widen in surprise, but then they light up with anger. Shit. “Shit”, Jisoo whispers out loud.

And then Park Jimin is there, pushing in front of you. He creates a human wall between you and the three guys. His body heaves as he breathes in fast intervals. He must have run after he heard Jisoo’s shouting.

“Back off”, the golden boy says with a calm voice. His blond hair is so close, you are sure you can smell his eucalyptus shampoo.

“Hey man, this is between me and these two bitches”, the other guy answers, insulting you again.

“You’ve got a minute till my brothers catch up”, Jimin states. “Go. Now.”

Maybe the guy was too far gone, alcohol clouding his judgment, but he needs his two buddies nearly dragging him away from you. They whisper in his ears, half bowing to Jimin. “So sorry, man”, one of them says, clearly having recognized the star student even in the dark.

Jimin doesn’t react. Instead, he turns around to you and you get to look at his angered face. “Why are you two out here? Alone? In the middle of the night? Where is your rape whistle? Hm?”, he asks. You just watch him with surprised eyes.

“Hmm?”, he questions again, stepping closer to you. Jisoo stares silently at Jimin. She has never spoken to him but has always been a strong advocate for watching his ass during lunch.

“Uhm”, you try to answer and swallow the fear from moments ago down. “We… we-were getting to the part?”

Jimin just scoffs in your face, clearly not impressed with your fumbled words. “What are you even doing out here at this time?”

You are slightly intimidated by his presence, so your finger shakes a bit as you point to the kiosk behind you. “We wanted beer.”

You have no idea how this happened. One second you were assaulted, then saved by Jimin. Now you’re sitting in front of the store, waiting for the guy to come back out. Jisoo is sitting next to you on the steps, her elbows on her knees. Then you hear the bell at the door and turn around to see Jimin juggling three beers under his right arm and a steaming cup of noodles in his left hand. He comes to a still before you and pushes the ramen in your hands. After that he places two bottles in front of your feet and crouches down facing you. Jimin’s face has cleared and he looks friendly enough.

“Thanks”, you whisper into your cup. Jisoo hums in agreement.

“I called one of my brothers. He’ll get the footage from one of the security cameras tomorrow”, he explains and twists his own beer open, taking a big swing.

“Why?”, you ask confused and blow at your noodles. Jimin’s eyebrows furrow.

“What do you mean why? So, we can write these bastards up”, he says, and you gasp in surprise, the noodles falling back into the cup.

“You’d… do that for us? Even though you haven’t even seen him… uhm… grabbing me?”, you question in wonder. Why would he go out on a limb for you?

Jimin just rolls his eyes at you. “Of course, I’d do that.”

He is halfway through his beer when Jisoo decides to participate in this semi silent semi one-sided conversation.

“What … were you – you know – doing out this late?”, she wants to know in the softest tone you’ve ever heard her speak in.

Jimin’s hand combs through his hair, the thick strands parted by his fingertips. “I was on a date”, he answers casually.

“On a Wednesday?” Maybe not your smartest contribution because both let out a chuckle.

“Some people date during the week”, Jisoo snorts.

“Some people do meth, Jisoo. Doesn’t mean these are good life choices. Wait – Jimin… did you leave your date to…”

“To rescue two girls from danger? Yeah.”, he finishes for you and dusts invisible dirt from his shoulders. You roll your eyes at his puffed chest and eat another bite of your food.

“Nah, I’m just messing with you”, he laughs, “I was just on my way back from dropping her off at thes dorms.”

After that, there is an awkward silence. The three of you aren’t friends – there is no connection, common interest or shared anecdotes between you. Well, apart from your group project and his unborn son. Before you can start to ramble about the specifics of the – still empty – google docs he linked you in two days ago, his cell starts vibrating.

“Yeah?”, Jimin answers absently and collects your empty bottles to dispose them into the recycling bin. His conversation is muffled at best and you look at your roommate. Again, you hear the bell ring as your coworker Jaehyung closes the door and locks the store.

He smiles down at you. “Why didn’t you come inside, ______?”, he asks in greetings and gives you a quick hug. You hold your ramen in a vice grip – you’ll not lose your second midnight snack again.

“Jimin insisted he didn’t need the 5% extra discount”, you shrug and Jaehyung looks at you funny.

“Jimin?”, he wonders and steals a bite of your noodles. Is there even a god?

“That’ll be me”, the man in question responds and locks his iPhone as he joins the extended group.

“Ah, man… I loved how you absolutely killed it last week on stage”, Jaehyung praises and pats the lead actor on the back. You couldn’t agree more. You’d been there with all the student employees from the kiosk. Jaehyung made it his mission to justify the outing as a bonding experience and teamwork task to your boss.

“This one even had tears in her eyes”, he whispers in mock secrecy and points in your face. Jimin looks at you with an unspoken question on his lips. The actor stops studying you and moves his eyes to look at your coworker, who stands very closed to your sitting figure.

“Glad you enjoyed it”, Jimin mumbles and spares a small smile. “I… really have to get to the frat soon”, he starts, “so, … I’ll better get you two to your room now.”

Jisoo stands up in a heartbeat, dragging you up as well. He’s going to walk you home?

“Nah, don’t worry, man. I’ve got this!”, Jaehyung answers. Jimin’s face is blank as he musters the scene in front of him.

“I’d really like to know that you got back okay”, he reasons and looks pointedly at your coworker.

“Their dorm is waaay out of your way, man. Just let me handle this… It’s the same direction for me anyway”, Jaehyung tries to reason and you see Jimin’s eyes flash in frustration.

Jisoo is just looking between both men, not really sure how to react. Has Jimin an ulterior motive to walk you back? Does he even want to walk you back? Is it more than just soothing his conscious?

Maybe your chances of the Park Jimin being interested in you just upped from three to fifteen percent.

“Sure”, Jimin reluctantly agrees to Jaehyung’s plan and faces you, his stare zeroing in on you.

“Write me when you get home?”, he demands more than asks and you can only nod dumbfounded.

“Just,… let me give you my number so you’ll be able to text me”, Jimin reasons and stretches his hand out to get your phone. You look at him in confusion – you exchanged numbers two days ago during class. He was the one messaging all of you.

“I… uhm… have your number”, you tell him. His eyes widen in surprise.

“Since when?”, the campus star asks and musters you in suspicion. Your face colors instantly, a deep red tone on your cheeks, as you realize that Jimin doesn’t remember you’re in his group assignment. He… doesn’t even recognize you. You feel so embarrassed, more so when Jisoo, too, sucks in her breathe.

“Uhm”, this is… very humiliating, “we’re i- in the same.. group for our PoliSci class.”

There is a beat of silence as you see even Jimin’s cheeks dusted with a hint of red.

“Ah, right, sorry”, he says and massages his neck uncomfortably. “I didn’t recognize you without your glasses.” Kill me now.

You just laugh and swallow down the bitter taste in your mouth while moving closer to your friend. Now, he thinks you’re the murderer? There is no mercy for your pride here.

“Let’s get going, ______”, Jisoo says, way too chipper and links your arms as she pulls you away from this disaster. “Thanks again, Jimin-ssi.”

“Yeah”, you agree and bow in front of him to cover the humiliation painted across your face.

Jimin bites on his bottom lip, all too tempted to reply, but settles for a swift nod.

Then the three of you walk away and ss soon as he is out earshot, Jaehyung looks at you.

“I have never seen you wearing glasses, ______”

Well, maybe your predictions were a bit off, maybe your chances with Jimin were no more than two percent.

Sunday – 4:32 pm – PoliSci library

“Should we… just start?”, you ask as Jimin fiddles with his tablet. You’re both seated in one of the small study rooms of your library. There is a half-empty box of chocolates between you. Jimin presented them with a shrug – they were a present he got after his last performance, the sweets a gift from one of his fanclubs… yeah… plural.

Other than that, there is your old laptop in the desk, some of the books from your professor’s reading list spread around the table, and an empty water bottle. What is not here, is the rest of the group.

You don’t have their numbers, Jimin being the organizer out of the four of you. His is the only number that is saved in your phone and was used last Wednesday. There was a small part of you – hell, who are you kidding? – a big part of you, that didn’t want to text Jimin. After the embarrassment died down that night, you were really angry. How could he? He winked at you one day and then forgot he even knows you the next day?

You wanted him to be ashamed; having him franticly messaging the wrong girl in his group would have served him right. And judging by the sheer joy this girl is, he’d have gotten an earful calling her at midnight.

But then you didn’t want to imagine him realizing he had the wrong girl. No, you wanted to be present. So, you texted him briefly and rescheduled the reveal for this Sunday, when he’d see both of you. And now you two are alone. Perfect planning, ______.

“You texted them, right?”, you ask for the tenth time and Jimin nods, picking one more praline from the box.

“Yeah, and I also called while you were peeing”, Jimin answers and pops the dark chocolate in his mouth.

“Don’t say that word”, you say.

“What? Pee?”, he laughs, “Be happy I didn’t say piss.”

“Now you said it too”, you whine.

“What else am I supposed to say, _______?” Oh, the right name; nice.

“Going to the toilette? Stepping out for a second? Leaving the room?”, you list and grab a sweet. The air between you both isn’t exactly uncomfortable. You’ve licked your wounds over the rest of the week and can see your partner for what he is, an overachiever.

He has much on his plate, so many appointments and engagements, it’s no wonder he doesn’t remember one of the hundred of faces on campus. So, you decided to forgive him… to a certain degree. The degree being, that a.) he doesn’t even know there is an issue and b.) your big revenge fell down the drain with your female partner being a non-show.

For the last half hour, the two of you talked, mainly about organisatory stuff like due-dates and presentation formats. But then you pointed to the box of chocolates and you both strayed into more private matters. You complimented him – again – for his performance and Jimin expressed his relief that he received all-around glowing reviews. He even shared that there was a casting coach at one of the stage nights. The golden boy’s eyes lit up, as he talked about the offer to sign a contract with this coach, who was one of the most in-demands in his profession.

“We could just divide the parts evenly among us and pick the ones most to our liking”, your partner offers and shares his tablet with you.

“I doodled with a few topics last night… what do you think, _____?”, he asks, and you look at his notes. Of course, his doodles look like your versions of an exposé.

Why does he have so much resources to prep for this meeting when he can’t even filter your face?

“Yeah, the second theme looks… uhm quite promising”, you say and move to enlarge his mind map. You’re sure the first proposal is just as good, but there were a few words that you don’t even know how to pronounce.

The two of you work productively for the next half hour, separating some key elements of the theory and choosing your own parts. Jimin – being the one coming up with the whole topic – let’s you pick first. You try to decline but he is very adamant.

After you added all your points into the shared document, the both of you pack away your things and Jimin throws away the empty box of chocolates. So much for a healthy afternoon snack.

Jimin is just happily telling you he’ll sleep in tomorrow because your professor canceled your shared lecture. You can’t agree more – having moved your self-care day to tomorrow instead. You’ll skip your tutoring session in the evening, so the whole day is yours. A smile stretches across your face and you hear Jimin stumble on his words as he looks at you.

“There is a party at my frat today, if you wanne come?”, he offers and slings his backpack over his shoulders. Wait… what?

“A Bangtan Party?”, you whisper-shout and look at him – the smile frozen on your lips.

Jimin looks a bit embarrassed as he sees your excitement.

“Yeah… I could set you on the guestlist?”, he say, a bit unsure. Your brain is working overtime. The Park Jimin wants you at his party? The girl he couldn’t even remember a few days ago? A mere group project fail?

“Really?”, you ask as you feel anticipation cursing through your veins.

“Really.” Jimin’s eyes are nearly closed, a bright smile pushing his cheeks up.

Maybe… Maybe your chances of the Park Jimin being interested in you are higher than you thought, now that he knows who you are. You’ll give yourself solid 20 percent. This party is one of the most exclusive affairs on campus, why else invite you if there isn’t some interest at his end?

“Cool”, you say, “can I bring my roommate?”

Jimin nods and holds open the door, closing and locking it behind him.

“I’ll see you tonight then?”, he asks instead of saying goodbye and moves away from you. You see Jungkook… and is that Namjoon?... waiting two aisles behind you, talking to each other in hushed voices. You wave at Jimin in affirmation and turn around.

“Don’t you think this is way too short?”, you ask – your insecurity slipping right out as you brush over the fabric of your dark red metallic skirt. Jisoo and you have been getting ready for the last few hours, which entailed not only some very hairspray-intense styling but also a tree diagram being constructed on the back of your pre-game nachos. Your roommate collected and rated every clue you gave her regarding the Park Jimin mystery – of course only after she squealed for a good minute.

“No touching my stuff”, Jisoo scolds and knocks away your fidgeting hands. She added ten percent to your prediction because she upvoted him rescuing you – and staring at Jaehyung in frustration – way higher than his misjudgment of forgetting your name and face. Even thought you pointed out that Jimin was on a date clearly indicating he maybe isn’t even emotional available.

“Your stuff is on my body, though”, you argue as both of you walk to the frat house. Their house isn’t that far off campus but it still is a 20 minute walk. You’ve got your pepper spray with you this time even if you left your rape whistle at home. There are few students out this evening, tomorrow being Monday making most of them stay in tonight. Before you can take the last turn do that their house comes into view, there is a person calling your name from behind.

You look and see the sketchbook guy from your group project jogging towards you. Jisoo looks at you questionably, not recognizing him. There is suppressed anger on your face and you try really hard not to be too mean to the person who left you and Jimin waiting today.

“Yeah?”, you ask and look at the slightly out of breath guy now in front of you. He’s got a gym bag over his shoulders, his running shoes still on his feet.

“Good workout today?”, you add with slight sarcasm in your voice. There seems to be a slight issue in translation because he just smiles wider at you as he gives you a small bow.

“Thanks to you, of course”, he answers, and you are this close to hitting a person today.

“What?”, you hiss and try to control your anger. This useless excuse of a PoliSci major will not lower your standards. Now the guy looks at you with a puzzled expression on his face – clearly not expecting you to me so hostile.

“You know? Yo- you and Jimin offering to do the selecting and dividing by yourselves really helped me out today.” Come again?

“What?”, you repeat this time without venom in your voice. His face moves to the side as he musters you carefully.

“Uhm… Jimin called on Thursday… telling us not to bother coming on Sunday”, he explains slowly as if you’re the dumb one. Jimin did what?

“What?”, you ask for a third time and now he and Jisoo look at you with worry.

“He.. he.. I mean Jimin – he mentioned that you two were totally fine with doing it alone… Mina and I offered to finalize and proofread the presentation in return”, he continues and you are just confused. So, so confused.

Why would Jimin lie to them – and to you?

“Ehm.. I’m sorry…”, you look at him sheepishly. He seems to understand and adds “Wobin”.

“Yeah, right… Wobin… this is a huge misunderstanding … let me – uhm talk to Jimin”, you say, the confusion slowing down your word flow.

Wobin looks at Jisoo in question and she just shrugs. “You’re staying with her?”, he asks her and she nods. “We haven’t had that much to drink… I think she just needs a minute. Thanks tough, Wobin”, Jisoo calmly states and your partner leaves with an uncertain wave.

“_______?”, another voice joins – because why not make it a whole convention here on the sidewalk literarily five minutes away from your destination. You turn to the male voice and see non other than Jungkook walking towards you with hurried steps.

“Hmm?”, you answer, still reeling from the confession mere minutes ago.

“What are you doing out here alone by yourselves?”, he questions as he catches up. Jisoo is frozen next to you – even tough Jimin is without question the hottest guy at your university, Jungkook is by far the most dangerous. Combined, they are lethal.

“We were just on our way to your house”, you offer and point in the direction of the frat.

“Yeah, I get that”, he says, “but why are you out here alone?”

“You can see Jisoo, right?”, you ask, not sure of anything tonight and look at your roommate.

Jungkook scoffs and shakes his head – clearly not impressed.

“After last Wednesday you’re still walking around alone at night?”, he wants to know. Last Wednesday? Wait how does he know about that?

“Who told you?”

Now Jungkook looks as worried as Wobin before. “Jiminie told me? Hadn’t I stayed longer at practice I would have been with him when he found you.”

“Practice?”, you ask.

“Yeah,… we’re preparing a inprov show to celebrate the anniversary of the drama department, you know?”, he explains and adds after he sees your expression: “Hasn’t Jimin mentioned anything?”

No, Jimin did in fact not mention he wasn’t actually leaving from a date but a late-night practice that day.

“He has been wreaking havoc since that night”, Jungkook shares. “Every brother had to sign up to cover a shift patrolling common paths during school nights.”

Now, he points at himself. “Today is my night so I’ll escort you to our mansion.”

Jisoo just looks at him like he grew a second head.

“You’re pepping for an improvisation show?”, she asks slowly as the three of you begin to walk.

This is the thing Jisoo has a problem with? Really? You feel your head spin while you try to make sense of the last two encounters.

Jimin didn’t go on a date last Wednesday. Jimin himself uninvited your partners from todays meeting. You shared chocolates with a liar.

“Wait… Jungkook?”, you ask not even looking at him. “Do you guys get a lot of gifts after your performances?” The student just laughs and shakes his head.

“Nah, we’re not allowed to anymore. The presents were getting out of hands. I mean… Seokjin-hyung even got a gold bar once, a fucking gold bar.”

You speed up your steps as you see the frat house in front of you, few people mingling around the entrance. There is a guy standing at the door and you’re trying to get your student ID out of the bag – your thoughts making your hands shake.

Jungkook comes up behind you and just shoves you inside, saluting the other guy with a cheeky grin. You don’t have much time taking in the décor, but you do notice how small the group of students are mingling around the living room. There is soft R&B playing from a stereo and you see the infamous reusable cups full of alcoholic mixtures.

And then you see Jimin, how ridged he is standing in front of the fireplace, bottled water in hand. His eyes zero in on you and the blooming smile quickly freezes when he notices your disheveled state. You step around some guys on the couch, making your way towards him. He places his water on the mantlepiece.

“______”, he greets you and you hear the tension in his voice. He knows, you know – maybe not how much, but Jungkook trailing behind you with a guilty look tells him that you know enough.

“Jimin”, you start, completely unsure which lie you should focus on, your brain jumping around in circles.

“______”, he whispers and takes a step closer to you.

“Jimin”, you try again to form a coherent sentence.

Before his lips meet yours in a shy confession, you think to yourself:

Maybe there is a 99 percent chance of Park Jimin being interested in you.

________

there is... no logical explanation for this story, other than me having war flashbacks while thinking about group projects at university. did you enjoy this oneshot? Please tell me if you find this Jimin as "perfect" as I did (apart from manipulating the OC). did/do you have similar experiences with group work? I always hated it. with a passion. thanks for reading and feel yourself hugged (if you want to) from, dana

#jimin x reader #jimin x you #jimin fanfic #park jimin #bts x reader #bts fanfic #college jimin #jimin oneshot #jimin fluff #park jimin x reader #bts fluff #jimin imagines #bts college au

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free-boundsoul · 2 years

Note

Well, I don’t know. It’s just, they have so much other stuff to talk about. Important stuff. I mean, my mom serves on the Empowered Council as a representative to advocate for more inclusive educational and recreational policies among elementary-level school districts. My dad is retired now, but in his day, he was just about the most famous telepathic veterinarian in Dahlia. He’d consult on cases nationwide because it’s can be so hard to interpret an animal’s mind like that and he was just the best. What’s so special about me right now? I go to school, study, hang out with my friends. Whatever. I sometimes look at their lives and then mine and I feel so mundane. Ordinary. Like I’m not living up to the expectations they have for me. I know I will one day, but I can’t help but want that day to come quicker. Oh, please, no need for nerves, Freelancer. They thought you were absolutely wonderful. My mom had such a fun time baking with you and my dad adored the chance to help you develop that bit of telepathy. They thought you were great. And not just your magical skills, though they were impressed. They liked you because of who you are as a person. I mean, who wouldn’t? You’re kind and funny and it’s easy to talk to you.

You and Gavin can go right ahead and test that theory. I think I’ll stay out of that little science experiment. Wait wait wait. Those are two different things, Freelancer. Gavin has a license or he just claims to know how to drive? No way is he going to do any errands that require driving for us if he doesn’t have a license. And how are you so sure he knows how to drive anyway? Gavin can’t even figure out how to microwave a bag of popcorn. You’re telling me you trust him behind the wheel? No fucking way. Thanks, Freelancer. I’d really appreciate being able to use your printer. I can pay for the ink. I know it costs way too much money. And I should get a new printer by the time the semester starts. Do you print out those awesome photos you take?

Only if you ask nicely, Freelancer. I’m a stickler for courtesy and politeness, as you know.

That’s be great, thanks! My mom would love those photos. Please send them to her, too. Don’t bother with my dad. He can barely work the smartphone, let alone download a picture. Really, she said that? She really said that?! Well, I’m sure you heard how my dad was bragging about you to my aunts and uncles.

Oh, that’s funny. I go to the store super early so it’s not busy! No wonder we’ve never run into each other there.

Yes, these would be perfect for game night! Are they hard to make? I wouldn’t want to make you go through any trouble.

Oh, that’s cool you are going to shoot for full certification. It’s a lot of work, but you show the aptitude already. I think you’d make a great teacher. Patient, willing to listen. You’d really care about your students. Well, you already know I’m aiming to be fully certified, too. I’m trying to figure out how I might best make an impact on D.A.M.N.. I’d like the chance to design curricula, implement policy changes, train the staff… I think to do that, I’d have to hold an administrative position like Dean or Provost. As much as I know teachers in the classroom make a direct difference in their students’ lives, I think I’d have a greater potential behind the scenes, so to speak. What do you think?

-Damien

What's so special about you? I guess I'm going to be condensing this into the cliff notes version otherwise, you'll just be listening to me ramble on about you for the rest of the drive and then some. You work so hard, Damien. I know it's mostly because you're trying to live up to your expectations, but it's still amazing. You're such a sweet and caring person once you decide that a person is worth it. You're so freaking smart, and talented, I know you can achieve anything you set your mind to. And I can't wait to see you shatter the glass ceilings that hang over us. Yes, your parents are amazing. But they didn't do that stuff while in college. They had to learn all those skills first. I know you're a little impatient but, don't go beating yourself up. You work so hard Damien, you put so much on your shoulders, you can drop the weight every now and then and just...relax. I'm here if you ever want to talk, too. If it would help? Just, tell me what I need to do?

I mean...he drove before and we didn't get into any accidents. He was pretty good, he stayed around the speed limit and didn't run any lights. I don't know if he has a license...how does that work for demons anyway? It's not like he can go to the DMV, I doubt he has a birth certificate. He's getting better at using the microwave. He's actually better at using the oven and stove than the microwave for some reason. He only burned the jiffy pop a little bit. Oh, you don't have to worry about the cost, I get the ink refilled at this little place in town so it's not as expensive as getting brand new cartridges. I do, at least my favorite ones. I have some photo albums.

Then...can I please call you Damie? Haha, sorry, sorry, I have a bad habit of...fucking with the people I like. Quite frankly, if you burn me at this point, I wouldn't blame you. I probably deserve it, haha.

I'll send them over now then, really, your dad is that bad with his phone? Huh, maybe that's why your mom only gave me the one number.... Of course she said that! I wouldn't say it if it wasn't true. Wait, what? I didn't hear your dad say anything about me. He was really bragging?

Ew...getting up early to go to the store. I try to avoid the morning shoppers, some of them are downright crazy. It's super easy, I just get two bags of puffcorn and the big bag of white chocolate chips, dump the puffcorn into a big tupperware, or those aluminum baking dishes with the cover you can get at the store, melt the chocolate and dump it over the puffcorn and put the lid on and shake it until everythings coated. Then just let it cool. Hardest part is melting the chocolate without burning it...I don't like thinking about the first time I made it...I was so made about the wasted chocolate.

I can so see you being the dean. You've already shown me how detailed your planning skills are. You're tough but you're fair. You don't make assumptions based on what a person is. I think that's what D.A.M.N. needs, someone who can help unite the students, regardless of what magical race they are. We're stronger when we work together rather than separating ourselves, right?

#damien anon!!🔥

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cluz1babe · 3 years

Text

*** Episode 2 Chapter 4 (STSF) ***

Dean leaned back in the booth. “Since I have you here, can I ask you something?”

“I get the feeling you’re gonna ask me more than something.”

He smirked and continued, “Do you trust me?”

“That’s kind of...” She paused, “Yeah.”

“Why don’t you trust my brother?”

“Sam didn’t tell you?” She shifted and Dean could see the discomfort in her face. “We tried to— I tried to connect with him.”

“It didn’t turn out well.”

“What happened?”

“I saw things I probably shouldn’t have. Instead of those thoughts and feelings flowing back and forth between us, it was all coming from him and going into me. Couldn’t control it.”

“What’d you see?”

She closed her eyes and focused her breathing, bringing it all back to her memory. “There was this person—a man. No, not a man. He had these yellow eyes."

“You saw Azazel. Did you see what he did?”

“No, but I tasted it.”

“And the other times.”

"And everything else."

“There was so much. There was Hell."

"Then almost like he felt…nothing"

“…and he did things… I can’t really judge him based on those actions. And there were a few beautiful things."

“Did you see Lucifer?” Dean asked.

“Yes. He was beautiful.”

“Beautiful?”

Y/N thought of his radiant grace. “His true form was beautiful, but I could also feel the terror. The fact that he was beautiful is no comparison to that feeling.” She thought for a moment. “There were two others in the cage. One was an angel, but don’t know who the other was.”

“Yeah… His name was Adam.”

“Who was he?”

“Our brother. We were related through dad. Michael used him as a vessel and they ended up in the cage with Sam and Lucifer.”

“Oh...” Y/N tried to find anything else to look at. Why hadn’t they told her about any of this?

“I don’t feel like talkin’ about it right now.”

I guess that’s fair, considering I’ve only known them two and a half weeks, she thought.

“What about Cas? Why have you been avoiding him?” Dean questioned.

“I don’t know. I just don’t feel right around him.”

Dean thinks about it for a moment. “Let’s start with something small about you.”

“As in?”

“What’s your last name?

Y/N rolled her eyes. “How many times do I need to have this conversation before you believe me? I don’t know. Or I don’t have one... It’s difficult to find that information without an official document. I wasn’t born in a hospital.”

“You sayin’ you don’t know who your parents are?”

She sighed, “Actually, I don’t care.”

“How can you not care?”

“They decided to check out early and tried to take me with them. That’s how.”

This revelation was unexpected and Dean didn’t know what to say.

“Look, I don’t know anything relevant to my life before 1995.” She continued. "Can we have fun now?”

“Alright, fine. You tell me what you want to tell me.”

“I was raised in a group home."

"Sort of. Someone saved me from my parents' death trap.”

When his senses returned, he prodded her for more. “How old are you?” “I don’t know exactly how old I am, but I was somewhere between 3 and 5 in 1995. Stopped aging in 2016, I think. At least, enough to be noticeable.”

“So you’re in your 30s?”

Y/N shrugged, “Best guess. Only it’s not that simple. There are feelings, thoughts, languages...like memories, in my head. Stuff there's no way I would know if I’m only in my thirties. I often question if what I remember is real or if the other stuff is.”

“What are some of those memories?”

“Actually sounds like you might have a lot in common with Cas.”

"Do you remember what I showed you?” Y/N asked.

“Nothing specific. It all runs together like—“

“Indecipherable thoughts strung together.”

"Within an acid trip.”

"Yeah", she agreed.

Dean swallowed, "Just thinkin' about it makes me want another drink."

“Tell me something about you that know one knows.”

“Sam is the only person who knows almost everything about me and the things he doesn’t know are way too private to be telling anyone else.”

“So tell me something almost no one knows about you.” Y/N pressed after too many drinks.

“I had a daughter.”

Y/N stopped completely, and stared at Dean. “Had? What happened?”

“She was killed.”

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s not the worst part.”

Dumbfounded, Y/N had to ask, “What could make that worse?”

“Sam’s the one who killed her.”

Y/N’s eyes were fixed to Dean’s trying to figure out if he was telling some morbid joke that she didn’t understand. “H-how—?”

“She was trying to kill me.”

Y/N was trying to imagine it in her head. Was she a toddler? 8? 13? Why was she trying to kill him? Maybe it was a possession? That doesn’t seem right. These guys can handle a possession, easily. Plus, they have an angel on their side. “I-I’m sorry.” She didn’t know what else to say.

“I only knew her for a day. I slept with her completely non-pregnant mom. Three days later, she looked like she was 15 years old. Trying to kill me to be accepted into her tribe.”

The more he talked, the more confused Y/N felt, until he told her the full story.

There was a long silence before she finally spoke again.

“Shots!” She blurted out and left her third beer at the table. This conversation was making her uncomfortable. She wasn’t expecting someone like Dean to drop a bomb like that. She slid out of her side in the booth, as quickly as possible.

The band on stage started playing a cover of Led Zeppelin’s Dancing Days and an older gentleman at the bar grabbed Y/N’s hand. At first, Dean thought he was going to have to step in, but She went with him. He was leading her out to the floor in front the stage and started dancing. At first, she laughed, but the man insisted by continuing his dancing. She finally relented and began dancing with him.

There was a crooked smile on Dean’s face. He hadn’t seen her like this before. It was cute. He took a moment watching before he started to feel a pang of envy. He wanted to dance with her. Closer than this man was, though.

However, when Y/N turned to look at him, there was something about her that reminded him of Lisa. There was a different pang in his chest, and his smile was gone. What am I doing here with Y/N? She’s at least 10 years younger. Maybe 12.

When the song was over, She and Dean were laughing again. Maybe the liquor was helping him forget Lisa again. His phone buzzed and he checked it. He made a slight grin upon seeing the message.

“Your brother wondering what we’re up to?”

“No.”

“Castiel?”

It buzzed again. Same reaction. “Definitely not”, he said.

“Ah, you’re talking to a woman.”

“It’s a dating app. Sometimes I get random messages.” Another buzz. “This one’s a picture.”

“Ooh! Let me see.”

“No. When someone shares a picture, you keep it safe and secret. Hidden to the rest of the world. It’s the respectful thing to do.”

“Ask her if I can see it.”

“Why would I do that?” Dean asked, perplexed and also intrigued by the idea.

“You interrupted fun drinking and sharing time by bringing another woman. Even if it is via smartphone. I’d like to know who else it sitting at this table and what they have goin’ on. — Be sure to let her know I’m also into women.”

"Lookin' for a threesome?”

"Why not?”

After giving her a devilish smile, he sends an ask the other woman he's messaging. Dean then leaned in close to Y/N, placed his hand on her thigh, making sure his lips were close to her ear so she could hear him. "Are you trying hard to be naughty or are you just trouble?”

"I'm trouble all the time. Naughty on the side, and nasty late at night." She caught her dumb line and chalked it up to the alcohol. They both giggled. "I'm sorry. I've never been good with my words, especially when I'm tryin' to flirt.”

"It's okay. Maybe I can teach you." Dean caught her lips with his and the kiss quickly became heated, with his hand traveling up her leg and to her breast. Her hand was grazing his crotch, feeling him getting hard. Even right here in front of everyone, he might screw her. He couldn't understand this desire to be inside of her so badly. When his phone buzzed in a reply, he handed Y/N his phone.

She looked at him, impressed. “Wow. Not bad.”

“Yeah, yeah. I don’t get it, though.”

“What?”

“The lack of hair. One, I thought that was over by 2010. Two, I just don’t feel that comfortable with it.”

Y/N shrugged, “So don‘t fuck her.”

“Easier said than done.”

She scoffed, “Why does a woman’s personal choice about her body hair bother you at all?”

“Makes me feel like a sex offender.”

“Sounds like your personal problem.”

“Well, also her age.”

“What’s wrong with her age?” Y/N inquired.

“Too young.”

“Too young?”

“Too young. I need to find someone my own age and stop runnin’ around, you know?” Dean looked off into the distance.

“Settle down? You?”

“Yeah.”

Y/N laughed at him and replied with a smile, “Sure.”

*** EPISODE 1 ***

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

CHAPTER 6

Part One - Episode Two

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

PLAYLIST Ep 2 Ch 1-4

EXTRAS:

AO3

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

*** Strong Tongue and Slender Fingers *** (Here and AO3)

*** Alt Strong Tongue and Slender Fingers Smut Scenes *** (Here and AO3)

KLEE (Original Version) (Currently only on AO3)

Alt KLEE Smut (Currently only on AO3)

#fanfiction #spn fanfiction #spn fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #dean winchester #Sam Winchester #castiel #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #strong tongue and slender fingers #playlist

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shirtlesssammy · 3 years

Text

1x06: Skin

Then:

Grief-fest 2005 continues

Now:

St. Louis, MO

Ah, good old torture porn to start it all off tonight! The cops are onto the bad guy though and are slowly making their way to save the girl. They find her and continue to track her kidnapper. They find him just as he’s about the jump out the window.

TWIST! It’s Dean!

One Week Earlier

The brothers pull into a Gas-n-Sip SureGas for much needed supplies. Dean goes over their driving plans and then pulls a classic projection by stating, “Sam wears women’s underwear.” Sam doesn’t care because LawBoy and his little stylus are emailing with friends about the brother of one of his friends. He’s been charged with murder. Dean wants to know if Sam’s friend is hot. I want to know why I continue to love you Dean, despite your gross early days. Sam convinces his brother to head to St. Louis.

They arrive at Sam’s friend’s Becky’s place. She tells them about her brother Zach finding his girlfriend, calling 911, and then the cops arrested him. He would have had to have been in two places at the same time. He was with Becky until after the murder took place but the cops have a security camera showing contrary information.

Sam asks to see the crime scene and tells Becky that Dean’s a cop.

They head to the crime scene. And I have to pause and ask what the timeline is here? He’s already been charged. There’s a trial set? Yet, the crime scene is still active? Anyway, there’s blood everywhere and a neighbor dog that used to be nice is now a barking menace. Dean asks to see the security footage.

Meanwhile, someone who looks a lot like Zach sits outside a building and watches a couple come out of it chatting. He watches the woman and then laser beams come out his eyes!

Sam and Dean watch the video and Sam notices the glowing eyes.

Meanwhile, the man comes home to find his partner tied and bloody. She pleads with him to not hurt her anymore. He hears a crash in another room. He finds himself(!) and promptly gets bashed with a baseball bat.

Sam and Dean head to Zach’s building to track where the killer went after the murder. Grumpy morning Dean is in full effect. Hearts. Sam finds blood at the scene and I have to question the level of investigation the cops put into this case. The brothers then notice that the cops are blocking off another building.

Sam continues to search the surrounding area. Dean gets the lowdown on the latest case --another doppelganger!

Shapeshifter!

Sam wonders if shapeshifter can fly because the trail just ends. Dean suggests the sewer.

They find the shed skin of the shifter. YUM.

They head back to the car to get silver bullets --the only thing that’ll kill all shifters.

Becky calls Sam to reveal that she knows Dean isn’t a detective. Sam tells her they were trying to help. She doesn’t want his help anymore and hangs up on him.

They head back underground, and find the shifter’s lair. And the shifter! There’s a chase and they emerge from the sewers - but the shapeshifter is long gone.

Regrouping after failing to find the monster, the Winchesters decide to call it a night. As a passing car illuminates Dean’s eyes, they shine yellow. Dun dun DUN. Monster!Dean asks for the keys and Sam does a sneaky memory check on him, asking him about a past hunt. He apparently passes Sam’s test, but Sam pulls a gun on him. Monster!Dean caught the keys with his injured arm, showing Sam that he wasn’t really Dean. Unfortunately for Sam, Monster!Dean knocks out soft-headed Sam.

Sam wakes up tied to pipes in the sewer system. We learn that shapeshifters share a psychic connection with the person they’re impersonating. Monster!Dean drops some truth bombs that still inform our interpretations of Dean to this day. Dean’s jealous of Sam leaving and making his own life. “Sooner or later everyone’s gonna leave me,” Monster!Dean says, and our hearts break for the next fourteen seasons.

Monster!Dean shows up at Becky’s house and talks his way inside. He tells her all about shapeshifters and his tale is highly sympathetic of shifters. Meanwhile, Dean wakes up and frees Sam and himself, and they both head to Becky’s house.

The shapeshifter is already at the tying-up-and-threatening stage of his attack cycle when the cops arrive. He flees the house while these fool cops machine-gun-fire indiscriminately after him into the suburban thicket of trees in the backyard. Cops, PLZ.

Back in the safety of the sewer, the shapeshifter transforms and it’s PRETTY GROSS. Teeth fall out, ribs crack, the skin peels off. Generally, it looks pretty painful! Remember this scene every time there’s a shapeshifter in an episode, kiddos.

The real Dean and Sam watch footage about the attack. There’s now a police sketch of Dean circulating the airwaves on an ACTUAL bank of televisions in a storefront window. LOL pre-smartphone storytelling is WILD.

They find the Impala by Becky’s house, but it’s a STING and cops corner them. Dean escapes over a fence while Sam gets cornered. Dean heads down into the sewers to investigate, and tracks bits of flesh to a truly nasty hideout decorated with skin and lit candles. It’s…sure an aesthetic. Dean finds a trussed up Becky who frets about an imposter who looks like her.

Sam apparently escaped the cops scot-free, only to get knocked out AGAIN as he visits Becky. Monster!Becky ties up Sam, transforms AGAIN into Dean, and then struts around the kitchen taunting Sam. He’s going to kill Sam and then the real Dean will end up hunted FOREVER for fratricide. Muahahahaha, I suppose? (Chuck, is that you?)

Sam gets free and a fight ensues. Dean bursts in just in time and fires a couple silver bullets into Monster!Dean, killing him.

Facing his own dead body, Dean enjoys a moment of existential crisis. He seizes his necklace back from the dead shapeshifter.

Later, Becky bids Sam farewell and the Winchesters get ready to hit the road. Sam’s friend Zach goes free, courtesy of the shapeshifter stealing Dean’s face. The cops have pinned the attacks on Dean. (Uh, hopefully BOTH the framed dudes were freed and not just Sam’s friend???)

Driving away, Dean jokes, “How many chances am I gonna have to see my own funeral?” I look DIRECTLY INTO THE CAMERA as the episode ends.

Please Clean Up Your Shedded Quotes, They’re Disgusting:

Look, it sucks but in a job like this you can’t get close to people. Period

He’s sure got issues with you. You got to go to college. He had to stay home. I mean, I had to stay home. With Dad

I kind of understand him. He’s all alone—close to no one. All he wants is for someone to love him

Want to read more? Check out our Recap Archive!

#spn recap #dean winchester #sam winchester #spn 1x06 #skin #supernatural season 1

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tintentrinkerin · 3 years

Text

Harness & Spears Chapter 6/10

Warning: oral sex

Read below the cut or on AO3

It was a drive of around 6 hours and Sam and Jack needed to take two short breaks to refuel the car and Jack needed some fresh air one hour before they reached their destination. He got travel sick for the first time ever. But they took another car, neither the Impala nor the car Jack drove when he sneaked to Gilead. Jack still felt weird when they arrived at the motel.

Checking in was quick. Jack was surprised which motel Sam chose and Sam just gave him a smirk.

“This is luxurious!”, Jack calls out when they enter their room on the fourth floor.

“Yes, it is luxurious compared to what Dean and I are used to, we lived in really shabby stinky rooms more than once.”

Sam is wise enough to not just start telling tales of the ‘good old times’ with Dean, because that is not what Jack wants to hear right now. Dean is a topic they will avoid for as long as they’re here.

“I would say, I unpack our stuff, prepare some tea and you get better with your sickness, hm?”

Jack turns around. He isn’t that sick anymore, but Sam just offered him some pampering, how could Jack say no to that?

“Are you sure? I can help you with unpacking.”

Sam already opened his suitcase and now starts packing folded shirts and shorts in the cupboard. He turns around to Jack with a grin.

“It’s no bother, just unwind a little, take a nap while I unpack. Won’t take long.”

Jack fills the electric cattle with water and chooses a tea from the tea table. He hasn’t seen any of these so far, it seems very european, at least that’s what Sam told him, when he once was in Ireland. But he is also super curious what Sam packed. While the kettle starts working and Jack chooses fennel tea he looks over to Sam. It looks like he packed a lot for a week trip. Sam is the neater of the two brothers and carries extra underwear, even a hair dryer, three pairs of shoes. They haven’t decided on which disguise yet, but since it was a ghost hunt that had zero body count yet, they would maybe go with the ‘paranormal activity journalist’ thing, even though Jack loved also being FBI. After Cas told him after the teddy bear case he probably wasn’t the best actor in the field, he would let Sam talk anyway. Sam was big and earnest and super convincing.

Jack hears a rustling and how Sam hurries to hide what he was about to unpack back in his rucksack.

“What was that?”, Jack asks with a raised eyebrow.

On their drive here Sam chose to do the whole ride and while riding shotgun Jack played on his smartphone and he did what he always does since he and Sam are together. He educates himself about sex. He knows Sam will show him everything one day and also answer a lot of questions, but some things he just doesn’t spill. Jack is dying for answers, all the time, every waking minute with Sam. And that looked like a foil package of condoms.

Sam blushes and zips his bag, avoiding eye contact.

“Nothing, nothing that’s important.”

The kettle is done and Jack fills a mug with hot water and adds to bags of tea. He likes his tea strong and intense.

“Sam, that looked like condoms.”

Sam looks like caught in the act. And then he lets his shoulders hang.

“Yes, but it’s an old bag, I- I didn’t unpack it completely. They might have expired anyway.”

Jack is a little disappointed. Of course he had his hopes high for a second.

“Hey, baby, please don’t be disappointed.”

Sam shuffles the bag aside and invites Jack on the big king size bed. Damn it would be the perfect occasion. They’re alone and what did Sam just say yesterday? That he wants to be with Jack. And yes, yes, they are together almost all the time and they do the most exciting and thrilling things, Jack is regularly blown away and unable to form coherent statements when Sam is done with him, but… deep inside Jack he is aching for what people call ‘the first time’ and make a big fuss about. Jack reads a lot. He doesn’t like adult movies or porn, though, it’s tacky and he feels like this kind of intercourse in porn doesn’t resemble in the slightest what Sam and him would have. But how could he know if Sam didn’t show him?

Jack follows the invitation after a little hesitation, gets out of his shoes and opens his jeans, his belly hurts and Sam told him reducing pressure would, thus unbuttoning his pants or take them off completely. Sam also is barefoot now, out of his pants and Jack dives in his arms.

“I’m sorry, Jack, I know you want it. And I didn’t want to raise your hopes.”

“Is this all because I’m a virgin and you would be my first? And you have to stay pure and a virgin for as long as possible”, Jack asks quietly.

“Did you browse weird purity websites, Jack? Virginity is just a concept. The human body is made for having sex at one point in their life. That’s why you go through puberty, start having sexual feelings, breasts and penis grow, wet dreams, periods… all of this. Shaming someone for having sex is like shaming monkeys to climb trees. It’s bullshit. It’s sexist. I love being your first, but not because I think you’d be ‘unclean’ if someone else before me had sex with you, I just like the intimacy, being able to get to know you well enough to know what’s the best pleasurable way for you. And I’m very damn glad Hunter didn’t lay a finger on you.”

“But why don’t we have sex then?”, Jack asks with a trembling ache in his chest.

“You might be a virgin, but why I’m going slow is because I like going slow per se. I had sexual encounters that happened on the day the person and I met, and it was passionate and great and all, but… you remember the tacky jokes from Cas and Dean, that my cock is deadly?”

Jack chuckles, then nods. “Yeah.”

“That really happened a lot. I thought I liked someone, and then they were possessed by a demon, were a werewolf, I even had a sexual relationship with someone from whom I knew was a demon and that was even the whole point. I did it when I was mourning Dean. Later Dean stabbed her after-”

Sam swallows deeply.

“She, Ruby, was responsible for Lucifer to be freed from the Cage the first time. She tricked us into opening all the portals.”

“Oh. I don’t know what to say, Sam. I’m sorry.”

“None of this is your fault.” Sam says with a bitter undertone. “Back to the actual topic. I’ve been through a lot of experiences that seemed pleasant maybe, sexually, but in the end they got hurt, or I got hurt. I had a lot of people violate my body.”

Jack stiffens and attempts to get up, protesting.

“I would never-”, he calls out.

“Yes, you wouldn’t . I know that.”

But your maker did , Sam thinks bitterly. But when he looks at Jack, he sees Cas. Never Lucifer. And still he has issues to fully give in.

“But, Sam… I wished we could go further. I know you think I’m just a horny teenager but I feel-”, Jack clears his throat and winds out of the embrace to take a sip of his tea. It’s hot and he burns his tongue.

“I really like you, Sam, I want to be as close to you as possible. It’s a consuming feeling, it’s eating me up. I would say it’s wildly romantic to be so horny for each other, but I’m aching inside for you. Sam… I-”

Jack can’t make himself say it. “I want you so bad. ”

Sam takes the cup out of Jack’s hand and puts it on the nightstand. Slowly pulling Jack in his hug again, this time in his lap. Jack melts everytime when Sam does that and Jack can see in Sam’s face that he knows.

“Jack, believe me, I want you too. I want you a lot. It’s hard to resist you, oh, sometimes I feel like it’s impossible.”

It’s wonderful to hear that, it’s healing the aching, but only for a little and Jack knows it will come back at him even worse. He sighs and enjoys the shivers down his spine when Sam’s hand circles on his back, between his shoulder blades; a familiar motion. Never failing to make Jack either even hotter or calm him down. Sometimes it’s hard for him to differ which feeling is which. With Sam everything is right and upside down at the same time. Secretly Jack envies all of Sam’s lovers. And to hell with it, he is jealous that Dean had to have Sam so close for all these years, see him in puberty, see him maybe feeling lust for the first time-

It takes Jack a second to realize he’s just thinking about brothers, just that with the Winchesters nothing really surprises him anymore. Not even his own fantasy of teenage Sam, in full hormonal rage, humping pillows, like Jack once did when he didn’t know what the feeling he experienced really meant and how to prolong or end it.

“You’re still very victorious of resisting my qualities.”

“You sound like a dandy”, Sam chuckles, “Believe me it’s a daily struggle to not just…”

Jack’s stomach sinks and his groin is painfully hard and hot in a matter of milliseconds.

“Not just what, Sam?”, he whispers.

Sam turns both of them around and Jack lands on his back, squealing a little. It’s such an innocent, young sound that Jack has to recognise himself he sounds young and inexperienced. Sam shoves Jack’s shirt up to his armpits.

“Sam?”

Jack’s voice is shaky.

“I will show you how much I want you, okay?”

“I’m certainly not stopping you, please show me.”

He pushes up on his arms, looking down at Sam, who pulls down Jack’s shorts.

“How’s your stomach?”, he asks, kissing Jack’s abs.

Oh, fuck. Jack has to let his head fall back and he stares on the ceiling, thin blue waves dancing in his eyesight.

“My stomach? Miracle cure” he says with a raw groan.

As soon as Sam touches him in a certain way, Jack just elevates, his senses focus on what they’re doing and probably the motel could just go down in a blast of flames and Jack wouldn’t even notice he’s burning alive.

Sam’s long hair tickles Jack’s skin and he chuckles and winds a little, Sam holds him steady, there will always be one strong arm along Jack’s spine, supporting him, showing him that Sam won’t let go. And that he’s Sam’s. Jack would never ever let anyone else touch him like that. One hand digs deep in Sam’s hair, strong brown streaks, slightly curling. Unsure if to push him further down or pull him back up Jack just holds on, feels for Sam’s lips, his slick and talented tongue, waiting for the next sensation, waiting for his own wishes to form words, then sentences.

“Sam, I want you, I don’t wanna wait any longer…”

The kisses upwards stop and Sam looks up, lips wet and glistening, tongue flicking over his lower lip. It’s obscene as it is beautiful.

“I will make it worth the wait, Jack. Believe me, there are so many unbelievably good things we can do…”

“I want you… really, I want you… inside me.” Jack’s words splatter out of his mouth and he’s aroused yet a little ashamed.

Sam hikes up completely and lays Jack down. Kisses the ‘but’s and ‘when’s and ‘want’s away. Jack struggles, frustrated and horny, mood shifting between whiny and angry.

“You will, Jack. You will get everything you want and more. Please give it a little more time. It won’t be long, I promise. I know how you feel.”

A single mad tear rolls down Jack’s face.

“Sam, I want to be so much closer, I need to feel part of you in me…”

Sam kisses away the tear, tastes the salt. Jack is a shaking, needy mess, legs spread, shirt shoved up under his chin. Nipples hard, goosebumps all over and a raging hard cock between them.

“Are my fingers okay, too?”

Jack nods frantically. He remembers the orgasm that was so mind blowing and got ruined by Dean and Cas running into them.

“Yes, again, please.”

And Sam is a keeper of his promises.

Jack is shaken to the core before Sam even penetrates him. It’s a delight to see, only the sight of Jack’s golden eyes, the slight quakes, he’s so responsive in a unique way and it’s only for Sam. If Jack only knew how hard it really is for him to not just take the boy here and now, thrust in this perfect pale mannequin body, Sam has never seen anything so breathtaking. Of course he wants to feel Jack’s insides, he wants to drain the last drop of cum out of him while Jack rides him, GOD , Sam would do a lot to experience that in a complete guilt free and perfect way, like Jack deserves. Part of him wants to mark the naphil as his, show everyone that Sam is the luckiest man alive, because Jack chose him. Damn, fucking him until he’s loose and barely able to utter anything else than faint moans or sobs, yes, Sam wants to make Jack never forget the sex they’ll have. But he can’t. Not yet.

If Jack only knew that corrupting something so beautiful, so rare, so graceful strikes Sam with such terror -- to do it wrong. To disappoint.

If Jack only knew that Sam isn’t the strong indestructible man he might appear like. That things inside him are just broken and cannot be fixed. And it could destroy what they have. And Sam can’t have Jack shatter on the truth. He wants Jack to shatter on his body, shaking and in extacy. And in perfect bliss.

“Sam, please”, Jack coos.

Sam will not just give Jack his fingers, he’ll give him his tongue and mouth. Jack’s cock is full, red, tip glossy with precum Sam spread across already. He doesn’t hesitate to press the tip of his tongue on the bundle of nerves right underneath the glans while wrapping his lips around the tip. Jack sounds broken, his hips jerk and he simultaneously tries to pull away, his hands in Sam’s hair.

“Sam, so much! It’s so much!”

“Is it good much or bad much, baby?”

“Good”, Jack admits, “it was in a movie and when I saw it…”

Jack covers his mouth with his shivering hand, biting his finger.

“It was good?”

Jack nods.

“I won’t go on if you think it’s too much.”

“Oh, I… I don’t know Sam, it’s really hot, but what if I spill…”

Sam chuckles.

“Don’t worry about it.”

While talking he gently keeps jerking and Jack relaxes a little.

“I don’t want you to stop Sam, I want all of it.”

“Sure?”

“Yes, please keep going. Can I watch you?”

Jack looks down and Sam sees nothing but longing in his eyes. Good.

Sam laughs. “Of course, feel free.”

Jack already tastes a little salty from precum and Sam goes slow, it’s a new sensation and it’s just a matter of time until Jack won’t be able to hold his orgasm anymore. Sam risked it to take two fingers for Jack this time, circling his sweet spot steadily and sucking him in the same slow torturing rhythm. Jack’s hand in his hair clenches and relaxes before also his other hand grasps for some loose strands. His noises are so sweet, Sam’s cock jumps and aches with every new little ‘oh’ or whispered name it’s harder to stay patient and noble. Sam’s primitive part wants to go on without any mercy, suck Jack off, fuck this tight sweet ass with until he’s sore and force orgasm after orgasm out of this beautiful boy.

Jack’s breath hitches and his hips thrust up in Sam’s mouth, not enough to make him gag but enough to make his mouth water even more, make the blowjob sloppy and full of wet noises. Immediate reactions. Moaning. Fingernails scratching his scalp.

“Sam! I’m….”

Jack doesn’t need to finish that sentence, Sam can feel it coming. Jack’s cock grows even harder, a little bigger - or is that wishful thinking? - and Sam can’t resist to swallow as deep as possible, his fingers ramming into that tight hole -- fuck, Sam is about to cum himself untouched just by how Jack feels, tastes and these sounds. Fuck, these sounds should be forbidden.

“Close”, Jack cries, “Sam, so close!”

Sam would love to answer, give Jack some encouraging answers but he can’t stop now. He wants to feel Jack filling his mouth, he wants everything Jack can give right now. It should be painful, how Jack clings onto his hair, pulling and ripping. It isn’t.

With some firm and frantic rubs of Jack’s prostate and Sam moaning with his mouth full of cock the boy arches his back and cries so sweetly, his legs crossed behind Sam’s back start pressing them even closer together, his hands push and pull.

“I’m coming”, Jack’s voice is clear as a bell, no trembling.

And then he shoots his cum, thick hot spurts in Sam’s mouth and while Jack gasps and moans so loud the neighbors might hear, Sam swallows and keeps stroking, keeps sucking.

If Sam only looked up, he could see the molten glowing honey shade of Jack’s angel eyes, wide open, his shaking body and a faint blue light illuminating the face perfectly shaped like marble, Grace surrounding him like a halo.

Light bulbs pop and TV starts crackling -- just seconds later everything turns quiet.

Sam looks up, catching the rest of cum with his thumb from his lips and licks it up. Jack looks down at him, his eyes teary and still shining a little.

“Sam…”, he croaks.

Sam crawls up and Jack immediately snuggles up into an embrace.

“Did you just cause a blackout?”, Sam asks with a grin.

Jack sobs. “I think so... It was…”

“Yes, I felt it. Overwhelming?”

“I still feel like I’m shaking…”

Sam hugs him tighter. “You are still shaking a little. I will hold you.”

It takes a little for them to calm down. Actually, Sam can’t calm down, he is tenting his boxer briefs. There’s no way to hide it. Jack shifts, a hand runs under the fabric. Sam forgets to breathe for a moment.

“You don’t have to”, he whispers.

Jack doesn’t stop.

“But I want to.”

#harness&spears #chapter 6/10 #sin is sinning #winkline #samjack #jack kline #sam winchester

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infinitelytheheartexpands · 3 years

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so since I’ve been talking about The Music Man a lot recently, it is time for the story of The Time It Traumatized Me In Eighth Grade And As A Result Caused A Middle School-Wide Disciplinary Incident [but I do still love this musical because it was not the musical’s fault]

so. the time and place is my school (pre-K through 12th grade) in the first half of 2016, when the middle schoolers were presenting The Music Man, Jr. As an eighth-grade performing arts nerd, I of course signed up (my school was small enough that anyone who signed up automatically was part of the cast) and after auditions, I managed to get Marian Paroo. hooray!!!

other relevant backstory: in the fall of 2014, my now-IRL best friend transferred to my school. we were pals at first but when we realized that we were each other’s biggest intellectual competition, we became frenemies, but shortly before second semester of eighth grade we’d finally gotten over ourselves and become friends.

so, there was this one girl in our class who was super-popular, and she happened to hard ship me and my now IRL-best friend, but neither of us was interested in dating anyone, much less each other. the problem: she’d also gotten most of our class to ship us.

so fast-forward to the Valentine’s Day dance. it’s the last song of the night, and some kid not from our grade asks the two of us to dance with each other. not assuming anything (which was a huge mistake), the two of us decided to dance with each other as friends. unfortunately, the super-popular girl filmed us dancing together and used that as more ammo to ship us.

the main point of that story is that I probably should have seen what was coming next, but I didn’t because I tend to think the best of people.

so fast-forward again, this time to mid-April. by now, dress rehearsals are starting, and that means no slouching on the acting, which meant that my Harold Hill (a seventh-grade boy, and by the way, I should mention that I skipped a grade and my birthday is in late April [if you’re reading this right after I posted it, my birthday is today, actually], so we are the same age) and I had to act every last cringey lovey-dovey bit of “Till There Was You”.

now, this super-popular girl was apparently hellbent on shipping me with every remotely realistic boy, and without my knowledge, she stood in the wings and took several awkward photos of the scene. and then she edited them, drew a lot of hearts, tried to insinuate that we either were dating or should date, and then spread them all over Snapchat.

now here’s the thing: I didn’t find out about this for several days. for one thing, I didn’t have Snapchat (and I still don’t) and for another, even if I had Snapchat, my parents had literally confiscated my smartphone (which they had given me) in the sixth grade and only allowed me to even use it on very special occasions. I wasn’t even allowed to take it to school. and no, I couldn’t use it at home either, particularly because they’d hidden it and I didn’t know where it was and couldn’t very well snoop. but I digress.

anyway, the reason I found out about this was because six days before opening night, there was a birthday party for one of the girls in the class. everyone was invited to lunch at the girl’s parents’ restaurant and then afterwards, the girls got to go to her house for a sleepover. (yes I was allowed to go, although that was almost revoked due to an unrelated incident that happened right before about which I will not go into detail; no I was not allowed to take my phone.)

during the party, my now IRL best friend pulled me aside, whipped out his phone, and said, “Hey, I really think you should see this. (super-popular girl) took these and sent them to the entire grade on Snapchat.” And then he showed me every single one. And I about died of mortification right there.

Three days later, there was another dress rehearsal, and it was all going fine and well. We started “Till There Was You”, and as luck would have it, my path of vision went directly into one of the wings, and I saw not one, not two, but three cellphone lights pointed directly at me.

and I froze. it was either freeze or break down because I didn’t want what had already happened to happen again, so I froze and couldn’t bring myself to do anything for the rest of the rehearsal.

after rehearsal, three seventh-grade girls approached me and asked me what was wrong. I spilled everything to them, and it turns out that they were the three whose lights had been on, but not for malicious purposes: they had been trying to prank the boy playing Harold with the “flashlights a la at a concert during a slow song” thing, but had thought that he and I were on opposite sides from where we actually were and as a result had shone them at the wrong person. they also had no idea about the Snapchat incident from the previous weekend and they genuinely apologized.

then the director asked what had happened and I told her everything. and effective the next day, she banned cellphones from the entire auditorium area for the remainder of the production.

also the next day, she apparently told the Middle and High School Dean because I was called in and questioned for several minutes about everything and then let go. it turned out that the dean eventually questioned the entire eighth grade about the incident.

well, the rest of the production went off without a hitch, but come Monday, the dean and the PRINCIPAL came into eighth grade study hall and spent the ENTIRE PERIOD lecturing everyone about respecting privacy and not taking and spreading photos without consent. and everyone knew exactly what was going on, and I was already embarrassed enough, and to top it off it was my birthday, so I was red as a tomato the entire time.

I’m not sure what punishment, if any, super-popular girl got, but she left after that year...but only because her chances of getting basketball scholarships were better if she went to public school (yeah even then she was over six feet tall). And even through senior year, peers and even family members (who still engage in this even though I’m in college and an Adult) continued to ship me with both my IRL best friend and the boy who played Harold Hill. so things didn’t really get a whole lot better on that front.

anyway, that’s that. glad it’s out there and not just in my mind and in the faded memories of everyone involved. don’t ship IRL people without their consent.

#memories #shipping #The Music Man #middle school #notyouraveragejulie acts #theater #theatre #acting #spreading photos without consent #no irl shipping without consent please #to be clear the photos weren't like. nude or anything.#but they were still embarrassing and Not Asked For Or Wanted

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prayedtoyou · 4 years

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overrated - read it on ao3

<< when you get home, will you help me with a project?

>> sure thing. i have to stop by the gas station on my way back, want anything?

<< yeah, grab me some of those chocolate covered raisins that i like

>> you got it. see you in 15

Dean had plans to go home after his three classes of the day to watch Netflix with his hand in his pants and eat pepper jack Cheez-Its until his stomach hurt, but he supposes it wouldn’t hurt to cancel those plans to help out his roommate for a few hours. Dean doesn’t often interrupt plans with himself, especially on a day where he doesn’t have any homework and he doesn’t have to show up for a shift at the salvage yard, but Cas is someone Dean doesn’t mind giving up a few luxuries for.

Dean met Cas in their Design 101 class during freshman year. It was nothing more than a foundation class, one that Dean and Cas had to take in pursuit of their BFA degrees in film and television, and photography, respectively. Dean expected to jack off to the course by flirting with the fellow classmates while still paying just enough attention to pass the class and turn in projects and assignments on time, but when Cas started sitting next to him in the third week of the semester and heckled him about listening to the professor and taking better notes, Dean really started to buckle down and take it a little more seriously.

They’ve been friends ever since. They had late night study sessions during their first year when they were only an elevator ride away from each other’s dorm rooms. Their first college summer was mostly spent at the Biggerson’s just off SCAD’s campus where Cas served tables; Dean would come in to bother him, drink coffee, and take advantage of the free WiFi. They found an apartment they could barely afford just south of the metro area and moved in a week before the new school year started. They still have that same apartment.

This was to Charlie’s disappointment, at first. She had suggested moving in together before Cas had and Dean had been on the fence about it. He loved Charlie, they got along, she understood his nerdy references, they had similar taste in women--but he had been holding out for another photography major to make his move. She quickly forgave him when she met and later moved in with her girlfriend, Dorothy.

There was just something about Cas that set him apart from Dean’s other friends. It might have to do with how passionate Cas was about his classes and major; since sixth grade, he’s known that he would grow up to be a photographer for National Geographic so he could travel the world and take pictures of all his favorite creatures. Or it might have to do with his sense of humor--a little dark and always just flirtatious enough to make Dean wonder just how serious he is and whether or not he should laugh or take him up on his offers.

More than likely, though, it has to do with how attractive he is, how his smile is so bright it puts the sun to shame, how his laugh makes Dean’s heart swell up like a helium balloon, how he’s intelligent and eloquent, but also absolutely clueless about a lot of stuff Dean considers to be required life knowledge. Does most of that knowledge revolve around Star Wars, Back to the Future, and Indiana Jones movie references? Yes, but that’s beside the point.

And that’s what led Dean to living with the guy for going on three years, to spending entire days dedicated to showing Cas his favorite movies and shows, to picking up dark chocolate Raisinets on his way home from school, to walking into their apartment and calling out Cas’s name just like Ricky Ricardo.

Cas shouts back from the opposite side of the apartment where their bedrooms are. Dean finds Cas in his room, furniture pushed away from one wall and replaced with Cas’s favorite reading chair from the living room (that old, forest-green armchair that Cas found at an antique store on the Savannah River that Dean verbally hated, but secretly used when Cas wasn’t around because it’s about the most comfortable thing in the world), and a camera set up on a tripod facing the chair. Cas is wearing that white button down that looks especially good against the tan he got over the summer, the one that matches Dean’s after they spent several long days on Tybee Island right before their senior year started.

“So, what’s the project?” Dean asks, handing over the box of Raisinets. He curses at himself for forgetting to get a snack of his own while he was out.

Cas takes the box with a smile. “Thanks, Dean. This one is based on touch and what emotions it brings out in us, but we can’t have more than one subject in the shot. So, I need you to put this on.” Cas reaches out and drops a small black object into Dean’s palm.

It’s… a tube of lipstick.

“Uh, Cas? I thought we’ve established that I’m not really much of a model.”

Cas rolls his eyes, no doubt remembering the arguments they had on the river walk during their second year when Cas tried to shoot Dean for an assignment that ended up with them deciding that Dean would stick with filming and Cas would recruit performing arts majors to be his models. “I know, I'm not taking pictures of you, you’re taking pictures of me. I already have the camera focused and everything, you just need to put that on, give me a few kisses, and snap some pictures.”

Dean’s brain short-circuits. “K-kisses?”

“Yeah. I’m using lipstick kisses to represent my past relationships and how I feel about them touching me. Just cheek and forehead kisses. We’re not going to be Frenching or anything.”

“Oh.” Dean looks down at the lipstick, caught somewhere between disappointment and relief, wondering if it would be better or worse if these kisses were meant for Cas’s lips instead of the rest of his face. Would it even be right of him to take Cas up on this offer when he already fantasizes about putting kisses all over Cas’s skin? Would it be wrong for their first kisses to be over some project? “I don’t know how I feel about this, Cas.”

“About what, kissing me? They’re not even real kisses, you just have to pucker up like you're kissing your mom.”

Dean chews on his lip. Would it be so bad to take advantage of the situation and indulge in something he’s wanted since their second semester together? Shouldn’t he be a good friend and roommate and help Cas with his project, no matter the requirements?

Cas must see the uncertainty in Dean’s expression because he continues with, “Come on, Dean, we’re graduating next semester, we’re practically professionals. Are you really going to be embarrassed about a little lipstick when you could be filming HBO sex scenes a year from now?”

Dean looks back up at Cas. If he’s going to insist, who is Dean to tell him no? “Alright, asshole, I’ll do it. But you owe me.”

Cas smiles wide and, damn, Dean would wear lipstick every day if it meant Cas would look at him like that. “Okay, there’s a mirror behind you. It doesn’t have to be perfect, just put some on and lay it on me.”

Dean turns to find Cas’s mirror hung up with his portfolio. Photos are hung, tacked, and taped up from vacations, day trips, school projects, and family holidays. Dean is up there a few times: laughing on the opposite side of the table from Cas at Biggerson’s, a selfie of the two of them under the unflattering flash of a smartphone in a dark movie theater, the only good shot Cas got of Dean that day on the river walk, Dean asleep on the couch with a book folded up in his arms like a teddy bear.

Dean didn’t even know Cas took that last one.

He puts on the lipstick, ignoring the photos of himself. It’s definitely not as easy as he thought it would be--staying inside the lines was something he’s improved upon since childhood, but crayons are a lot different from makeup. He manages to swipe the color onto his face, grimacing at the taste of it.

When he looks back at Cas, all he gets is a blank stare and a slight nod. Feeling less than confident with deep red lips, Dean steps up to the plate.

“Where do you want it?”

Dean can hear the click of Cas’s throat as he swallows. He raises a hand, pointing to the knob of his left cheekbone.

“Here.”

Dean steps just a little closer. Cas is about his height, maybe an inch shorter, but it’s not even noticeable when Dean tilts Cas’s face up with a finger and thumb gently pinching his chin. He leans in and--smells Cas’s shampoo, notices the pores on his nose, finds trimmed whiskers along his cheeks--presses his lips right where Cas wanted them.

With the lipstick, Dean can’t taste Cas’s skin, but he can smell the face wash where his nose is sticking into Cas’s temple. Like pomegranates.

When he pulls away, he knows he’s blushing, but he has no way of hiding it, so he just smiles and says, “That’s a good color for you.”

Cas, a little pink himself, scoffs. “Just take the picture, Taylor Swift.”

Cas takes his seat, Dean steps behind the camera. He clicks the shutter button a few times, watching Cas’s face on the screen. He’s leaning his face up and slightly away, lips parted, eyes cast toward the door instead of the lense. It’s a great angle to show off that jawline of his.

Dean was never destined to be a model, but Cas looks just as good in photos as he does in real life. He knows exactly how to position himself, which light to use, how his face should look. He could model, if he ever wanted. Dean asked him if he would star in a short film Dean had to film, but Cas just laughed and said if he wanted to act he would have gone into performing arts.

“That should be enough,” Cas notes, and Dean realizes that he had taken way too many photos while thinking about Cas’s face. He backs away from the camera. “I’ll need a fresh layer for each kiss, so apply some more lipstick.”

Dean does as he’s told and goes back to Cas to kiss him again. This time it’s just above Cas’s right eyebrow. They go on like this a handful more times, until Cas has lipstick stains across his entire face. Each time feels like the first, and Dean has a harder and harder time removing his lips from Cas’s skin as they progress through the photos. Cas doesn’t seem to be as phased--he sits right down and assumes his pose. In each and every picture, Cas mostly just looks sad.

“Why do you look like that?” Dean finally asks after the sixth kiss, snapping pictures.

Cas unfurrows his brow and looks up from the floor. “Like what?”

“Like your dog just died.”

Cas cracks a small smile. “These kisses represent each of my exes and how I felt about my relationships with them.”

“They were all that bad?”

“They certainly weren’t good. After being cheated on, left for someone else, and dumped over text, I don’t exactly have fond memories of most of these people.”

“I remember when that dickhead Balth slept with that web designer. You didn’t leave the house for a week.”

“You took me to the Atlanta Aquarium and pointed at all the ugliest fish and said they looked like him.”

“And I was right. ”

When Cas smiles broadly, Dean sneaks in another picture. The shutter of the lense gives him away, but Cas doesn’t mention it.

“Remember when I watched 500 Days of Summer eight times in two days?” Cas asks. “That’s because Hannah kept telling me she didn’t want a relationship and ended up leaving me for someone who she got engaged to after five months.”

Dean chuckles low under his breath. “Yeah, I remember. I had to force you into the shower and then we went out for burgers.”

“And when Gadreel drunk texted me all the things he hated about me--”

“We toilet papered his frat house and went to a baseball game the next day. We got so sunburnt.”

Cas laughs at the memory and Dean captures it with the camera. He looks so much better like this, happy and covered in kisses from someone who actually cares about him. He deserves to be this happy for the rest of his life.

Cas sobers up and looks at Dean. His expression is soft, something closer to adoration than anything else. Dean wonders if he’s just amused by the makeup.

“You were always there for me, Dean.”

Since Dean can’t take a compliment to save his life, he shrugs it off. “I was just trying to be a good friend. You did the same for me when Lisa and I broke up.”

They go quiet for a moment. Dean reflects back on the two weeks after their break up. Dean was drinking daily, taking whiskey in a travel mug to his classes, going to bars at night, falling asleep on the couch with a bottle in his hands. It took Cas several tries to get him out of his rut, first by asking Dean what was wrong, then by requesting that he eat something solid, and finally by whacking him with his rolled up yoga mat until Dean cleaned himself up and changed into some fresh clothes.

Dean had grumbled about it for a few days, but it was just what he needed. He couldn’t mope around forever and fall into a pit of alcoholism just because his year-long girlfriend finally got fed up with his shit. Cas spent extra time with him that month, changing his schedule and cancelling plans to hang out or do homework in the same room as him, occasionally reaching out to lay a hand on Dean’s shoulder or knocking their feet together to remind him that he wasn’t alone. It helped tremendously.

The worst part wasn’t losing Lisa, it was coming to terms with everything he had been trying to deny since he was seventeen. His attraction to men was something he first noticed when a new kid came to his high school and he fell for the linebacker build and honey-sweet Cajun accent. But after dating women exclusively his whole life, the last thing he wanted was for Cas to feel like some sort of experiment.

“What happened? With Lisa. You never told me.”

Cas catches his eye, but Dean directs his gaze away quickly, suddenly finding the curves of the camera very interesting.

“I, um… I wasn’t very good to her. I was kind of using her to get past a crush I had on someone, but it didn’t go away and she said she couldn’t keep living like that. Like she was competing to be my girlfriend. I don’t blame her one bit, she was right to leave me. I just thought, if it was just a crush, it wouldn’t be a problem once I was with someone else, but when I couldn’t stop liking them…”

Dean chances a look at Cas, who looks just as sad as he had in those pictures. His eyes are wide and it almost looks comical with all the lipstick kisses on his face.

“I realized it was more than just some crush,” Dean finishes lamely.

Every part of him wants to tell Cas. But what would be the point? The two of them will graduate and Cas will become the next most famous National Geographic photographer and Dean will be looking for work as a camera holder on low budget movies and shows that may or may not be cancelled halfway through filming. He could always turn to porn as a last resort, but he'll never make it as far as Cas and he’ll never make it with Cas.

In the beginning, he didn’t want to ruin their relationship. They worked well together, whether it was study sessions or getting back at exes or picking out mismatching furniture at second-hand stores. He worried about losing his friend. Now he doesn’t want to say anything because he knows he’s going to lose Cas one way or another, and it will hurt less if they don’t get involved with each other any more than they already are.

Cas takes a deep breath, processing the information. He searches the room. His eyes land back on the camera.

“I have one more shot to get.”

Dean blinks. It’s what he expected. It wouldn’t matter if Dean subtly tried to imply how in love he is with Cas or if he bluntly told him, he would always get the cold shoulder. It’s for the best, he tries to convince himself. Any other way would just end in a bigger heartbreak than necessary.

He turns back to the mirror. He finds the photo of him and Cas in the movie theater again. He can’t remember what movie they saw, but their faces are nearly touching and Dean’s arm is around Cas and he wishes more than anything that he’d taken the chance to kiss him back then. Because, what’s the quote? ‘Tis better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Does it count when Dean is, technically, in love, but just hasn’t voiced it yet?

With a new coat of lipstick, he faces Cas again. He’s standing in the middle of the room, right next to the camera, ready for his last kiss. Dean musters up all his fake confidence and closes the distance between them, standing just a little closer than he had before.

“And this time?” Dean asks.

Cas looks hesitant. Maybe he’s finally realizing that he should have chosen someone else to kiss him over and over again. Someone who he wouldn’t have to awkwardly live with afterwards. Someone who wouldn’t have made a straightforward project into something uncomfortable.

His hand comes up to his face. He points a single finger to his bottom lip.

“Here.”

Dean’s breath catches in his throat. He hunts for any sort of lie in Cas’s eyes, any indication that he didn’t want it, that he wanted to take it back. But Cas just looks right back at him, waiting, patient.

Dean fits the corner of Cas’s jaw into the center of his palm, runs his thumb across Cas’s cheek. A lipstick kiss smears under the pad of his finger, wiping into nothing but a blur, just like the memory of whichever lover that one was meant to be.

When their lips meet, Dean forgets about every single reason he didn’t let himself have this before. Everything in his head melts away until there’s just Cas and mouth and hands and Cas and Cas and Cas.

Cas doesn’t hold back. He grips Dean’s waist like a life raft in the middle of the ocean, opens his mouth and moans when Dean slips his tongue in. He takes everything Dean gives him. He moves his head aside when Dean trails his mouth along his jaw and down his neck, kissing and sucking and nipping at the skin. Dean pulls him closer, desperate to feel as much of Cas as he possibly can.

Dean feels like he’s shaking, or maybe vibrating, with need. Everything is tilting, moving, wavering around him. The lights could blow and he wouldn't even notice, he’s too wrapped up, too confused about which way is left or right.

Their mouths come together again and the world straightens out on its axis. They slow down, brushing their lips together the way pages of a book slide against one another. They take their time. They learn the way they move with each other.

Eventually, they part. Not to gasp for breath, but to rest their foreheads together; to align their hearts. Between them, Dean can smell Cas’s toothpaste and taste the lipstick.

“We should do projects together more often,” Dean concludes humorlessly.

“I think we should skip the projects and just make out,” Cas counters.

Dean pulls back to laugh quietly at Cas, but then sees his face. Cas is covered in lipstick, all around his mouth, his chin, across his jaw, down his neck. The makeup follows the patterns of Dean’s kisses, right down to where he had sucked Cas’s earlobe into his mouth.

He lets loose, practically wheezing at the state of Cas’s face. Dean’s must look similar, because Cas erupts into laughter too and they both sink into each other, bodies convulsing in their arms.

“Come on, come on. One more picture,” Cas begs, pulling out of Dean’s grasp and positioning himself on the chair. He couldn't wipe that smile off his face if he tried, and it looks like he isn’t putting in any effort at all to push it away.

Dean presses the shutter button three times, hoping at least one of them is a good shot, before diving around the camera to pull Cas into his embrace again.

The lipstick ends up on chests, wrist, bed sheets, and hips, but they don’t mind. They might even keep the tube for another time.

tags below the cut!

#destiel #fanfic #my work #destiel college au

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astyle-alex · 3 years

Photo

[FANFIC - Destiel & JayTim]

Multiverse Mishap | DCU Bat Family x Supernatural

Fandom: DCU Bat Family x Supernatrual Pairings: Destiel, Jay x Tim Rating: Teen Warnings: Swearing, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Heavy Angst (with a happy ending), Implied Underage Prostitution Total Word Count: ~156k | SPN vers = 76k / Bat vers = 80k

Summary:

One slip up in the lab has Tim Drake careening into a new world where things are rather dramatically different from the world he’s used to. Fortunately, this is not his first rodeo. He knows how to handle this nonsense, more or less at least. Unfortunately, the people of the world he’s wound up in see things a little differently. And when Dick Grayson and Jason Todd mount an ill-conceived rescue mission, things get complicated very quickly.

When Team Free Will is at their lowest (well, their lowest as of YET, at least) with Castiel missing (and probably human), they get thrown a lifeline. Charlie calls with a lead on a strange young-man who bears a stunning resemblance to their MIA angel. Even with the world on a precipice around them, Sam and Dean won’t leave their angel out to dry—Dean especially has a few missteps he’d like to make up for… If only he could find some way to get through to one hella conked out Angel of the Lord.

This project started as a distraction and got WAY out of hand, but I’m actually really excited about it. I’ll be posting it as two separate stories on Ao3 (one form the Bat Family PoV and one from the SPN family PoV, both of which will be updating HERE...) with new chapters going up weekly, but only one chapter from each version.

As excited as I am about it, my schedule is currently in shambles because I got an opportunity to get the COVID Vaccine and it’s thrown my whole schedule into utter chaos. I’m hopeful that I’ll get back on track soon, but I can’t guarantee when I’ll be able to post here or on Ao3.

Since I can schedule posts on Patreon, that updating schedule will be much more definitively regular. The second chapters of each version are already available to Patrons and should open up to all viewers by Monday!

- Multiverse Mishap | SPN Vers - Chapter 2

- Multiverse Mishap | SPN Vers - Chapter 3

- Multiverse Mishap | Bat Vers - Chapter 2

Read the first chapter of the SPN version below (with Charlie playing a super spy and getting Sam & Dean a lead on a maybe-Castiel / maybe-alien-infiltrator) and I hope you all have a fabulous Easter Weekend (whether or not you celebrate religiously, you gotta admit the season-exclusive candy is pretty dang great!)! ^_~

A bit of fiddling, that’s all it was.

Well, that’s all it was supposed to be.

A device that plays with space-time and the very weave of whatever it was that spanned the gap between dimensions?

How could anyone just let something like that gather dust in an archive?

It functioned how it was meant to, it was only that what it was meant to do was cause harm… If they just tweaked it a bit, just a little, gave it an anchor point and limited the scale of possibilities… If they yanked down the juice that kept it powered to a more moderated level…

It could save lives.

So… fiddling.

Just a bit, here and there and on weekends when there wasn’t anything big going on.

The stupid thing wasn’t even turned on most of the time.

It was inert and dead as fricken paperweight (which honestly is what the fiddler in question had mostly been using it for)…

And then… it wasn’t.

One button, a loose screw, the slip of a paperclip…

A big flash of blinding light.

Silence, like the absolute nothing right before the tidal wave hits.

And in that silence, a tiny, over-caffeinated little voice:

“… Oops…”

_ _ _

Chapter 1 – MIA Angel or Alien Infiltrator?

Charlie Bradbury knows she’s awesome.

But there’s the standard awesome that any Queen of Moondoor is simply by nature of being epic enough to have achieved the throne to start with...

And then there’s the awesome that is having created a automated dark web trawling program to track the world’s Big Weirds (and only the very BIGGEST of the Big Weirds) and having that super secret extra level deep vault program actually work.

Well, of course it worked, but it like worked.

It found an Angel.

Sorta.

It found a something.

And an MIA angel, who was not exactly an angel anymore, but also couldn’t really pass as truly human, and who was still on like every watchlist ever (magical, criminal, meme-spirational, etc), but is somehow still entirely off the fricken radar?

Yeah. BIG Weird.

Said angel-not-angel popping up at a Biggerson’s in Ohio with no shoes, more money than god, an insane caffeine tolerance and absolutely no idea how to function inside a Walmart?

HELLA Big Weird.

So Charlie, being the awesome Queen that she is (and being acutely aware of what false hope here could do to the people in particular question with this) went to check it out herself.

Personally.

And, personally, she can say that this kid is the weirdest thing she’s ever seen, and after having day-tripped out to the literal Land of Oz a few times over… well, that’s sayin’ something.

Charlie’s met Castiel.

Not exactly her type, but she could see how that divine slice of puppy in a trench coat could be seen as something of a serious snack.

Though… If he weren’t an angel, she’d swear he was an alien.

But, like, a cool alien.

Much less spy-trained infiltrator than innocent human-admirer who wants to experience the local flavor on his little vacation out to the Milky Way’s most interesting backwater, Sol-3.

And the kid she finds in Ohio… is not that guy.

Not really.

For starters, she’s not entirely sure he’s old enough to drink alcohol.

And he’s… not looking for Sam and Dean ( which is seriously a BIG red flag for deciding whether this particular angel-not-angel is the right angel-not-angel).

He is looking for something, though.

Something he seems to think is in Kansas, near-ish enough to the Bunker’s coordinates to make her question the ‘not looking for Sam and Dean thing’ (but the absolute dinosaur of a smartphone he’s working on to pull up maps could totally just call the bunker, if he wanted to… or any of the plethora of emergency numbers the Boys have set up…).

Charlie’s looking on from a Very Inconspicuous post in the booth two tables away from the kid in the red hoodie and she can feel his frustration with the device radiating off him like physical Force pulses. Fortunately, proto-Sith this kid is not, and all the tables remain table-y.

She’s watching him fight with the internet to find something and his device’s crappy security means she didn’t even have to work hard to get her own screen to show what’s happening on his. He’s definitely looking at Kansas, at going to Kansas— Lebanon in particular.

Messy black hair, big blue eyes, grumpy face to rival any Netscape feline…

Looking for Lebanon and totally out of sync with humanity…

And… his oversized red hoodie just happens to have the 2-D rendering of a big black pair of wings stitched into its backside— stemming right from where they should on the kid’s shoulder blades if the wings were real.

Charlie’s not really gullible enough to believe in signs from God anymore…

But if she were… well, that would be pretty convincingly Divine Sign-like.

So, she makes the call.

Sam picks up on the third ring.

“So, you know how like the main character always has dramatically weird colored hair and sits in the second to last desk by the window?”

With a heavy sigh filled with enough affection to make Charlie’s insides feel all squiggly and warm, Sam says, “No, Charlie, I have absolutely no idea.”

“Well, they do.”

“Okay. And?”

“They are Narrative Significant, they stick out from the background in like a big way, but not just in like a ‘doing main character things’ kinda way,” Charlie rambles, trying to find her point buried under the spiraling metaphor.

“Charlie, do you know what time it is?”

“Uh, 2, maybe, 3am. I think. But that may have been like three coffees ago,” Charlie prattles off automatically before veering back on track, “Anyway. The point is that I think I found a main character. He’s not the character I thought he should be, though. He doesn’t look right. He’s too young. And no trench coat. But he is hella out of sync… and the blue eyes and black hair and everything else…”

There’s a pause as Sam’s non-caffeinated brain tries to keep up with Charlie’s infodump.

“Trench coat?”

“I think I found him, Sam,” Charlie whispers. “I think I found Castiel. Well, I found someone weird enough to maybe be Castiel, in the Castiel kind of way, and he’s looking for a way to get to Lebanon, so…”

Much more alert, Sam asks, “Where are you?”

“Ohio. Quaint little place called Granville,” Charlie reports. “It’s a pretty straight shot to the Bunker, but it’s like 14 hours on the road and I’m not sure the gods of caffeine consumption will really be cool with me pushing their bounty that hard…”

“Don’t try too hard to get him to go anywhere with you, see if you can just offer to pay for a motel room for the night,” Sam instructs, the sounds of a pack being prepped with one hand clanging about in the background. “We’ll be in Granville before noon.”

“What if he really wants to head out?”

“Take it slow and text us when you get gas, we’ll meet you in Indianapolis.”

He’s using ‘Serious Sam’ voice.

It’s the voice that makes panicking bunny rabbits being chased by wendigos settle down for half a second so Dean can frickin torch those ghost-y cannibal creepers.

Only, in this case, the wendigos aren’t cannibal forest ghosts chomping down on campers. This time, the Big Bad that Dean is unequivocally about to destroy is approximately 909 miles of US Highway 36.

It makes Charlie feel a little bit better about nearly everything that’s wrong.

She hangs up with Sam after promising to keep the updates coming, and looks back at the kid who could be Castiel.

Only to find him looking back.

For a minute, she’s worried that he heard her talking to Sam about him.

But he seems kinda zonked.

And he doesn’t look upset or embarrassed or angry, so…

She is the only other person on this side of the Biggerson’s, (and really she’s the only non-staff member in this Biggerson’s all told besides the kid himself), so it’s really not that strange for her to be the dust mote in motion that’s wound up drawing the kid’s eye.

He’s not really expressing anything.

He’s just looking.

It’s weird.

Whelp, he’s got that creepy unblinking stare down pat, bird-like head-tip and all.

The kind of stare that’s not angry or judgmental but feels more clinical than anything else, like he’s seeing through the bones and skin and sinew to the soul that’s underneath.

Dissecting it and diagnosing it…

It makes her shiver.

But she plasters on a smile and says, “Hey. You wanna refill?”

The kid looks down at his empty coffee cup.

He blinks, real slow like.

Then he nods.

Relief floods Charlie.

Step One, making with the contact with the Target. Check.

In her experience that’s usually been the hardest part of these things.

Not that she really has much experience in ‘these things’…

But still, Score 1 for the Queen, yeah?

She signals to a waitress for two more cups of coffee, shots of espresso boosting both of them. It’s like a weird AU of a sleezy bar beat, a remixed mark meets con-woman kinda thing.

“So, kid, what’s your name?”

“Shouldn’t you tell me yours first?”

Charlie shrugs. “Well, generally yeah, that is the convention. But I like being unconventional, I guess.”

Really, it’s that she hasn’t quite decided what name to give him.

He blinks expectantly, head tipping over again.

Realizing that she’s already giving up ground in this pseudo-battle of wills and whatnot, Charlie sighs heavily and says, “I’m Charlie, Charlie Bradbury. Geek extraordinaire.”

The kid nods, visibly internalizing the information.

Trying really hard not to be perturbed by that, Charlie barrels on to say, “I see that tablet of yours is gone a bit wonky. You looking for something in Kansas? I might be able to fix your tech or find what you’re looking for with mine.”

“My tablet…” With big owl eyes, the kid glances down at the piece of crap barely smart enough to call a screen and gives a plaintive little huff. “It is… insufficient.”

Charlie gives a laugh that only sounds two-thirds forced and says, “Understatement, buddy. You’re grand at it.”

The kid simply frowns.

“So,” she says, drum-rolling her fingers on the plastic tabletop as she leans into the leading questions. “Tell me what’s your name and what you’re looking for in Kansas and we’ll see if I can work my magic, huh?”

The kid’s eyes narrow suspiciously on the word ‘magic’, but he gives no other reaction.

For a solid minute, easy, they just kinda sit there.

And then the kid downs a full cup of espresso-boosted coffee like it’s a bottle of watered down Gatorade and flashes Charlie the stiffest stretch of smile she’s ever seen on any face that still looks mostly-human.

“My name’s Alvin,” he tells her with all the bland panache of a used car salesman. “Alvin Draper. And honestly? I’m looking for a hole in the universe.”

Charlie almost bursts out laughing.

The kid— Alvin— spots the reaction. He glowers, quite impressively, to be honest.

“Well, Alvin, that’s the fakest fake-name I’ve ever heard, but I think I can help with the ‘hole in the universe’ thing,” she tells him.

Alvin’s frowning again, it’s adorable and endearing in ways it really shouldn’t be.

“One problem, though,” she lays out. “You’re gonna have to be a little more specific about which hole in the universe or tear in the fabric of reality your talking about.”

Taken entirely aback, Alvin huffs, “Is it a commonplace occurrence to have your universe ripped open, then?”

“Well, not exactly. It’s more like our universe is the knit-scarf version of a life-raft,” Charlie explains, wheezing a bit as the metaphor sinks perfectly into a crack she didn’t quite realize she still needed to find a way to fill. “Things here aren’t… Well, uh, how many apocalypses have you fended off this week?”

“You’re really just gonna roll with the implicit declaration that I’m from another universe and you’re not going to question my sanity?”

Alvin looks like he’s suddenly questioning her sanity.

For a beat, Charlie feels insulted.

But really, his reaction is the more logical one.

Maybe Charlie should start trying to talk to more normies here soon, she’s totally lost touch with what constitutes a ‘reasonable reaction to weird shit’.

“Whelp, I’m not a Time Lord or anything,” she confesses, “but I’ve had enough contact with the Supernatural to know how to spot someone who’s brushed up against something ugly in the dark and is kinda freaking out about it. You fit the bill, Alvin.”

The kid rolls his eyes.

It could be an angel-learned-it-from-Dean thing, it really could be.

The weight of the sarcasm is just that strong.

“Fine, yes. ‘Alvin’ is not my real name,” he admits.

Then he casts a wicked smile her way that almost makes her rethink the ‘learned it from Dean’ idea, because this is… creepy in an almost Demon kinda way… in an almost Leviathan way. The grin is so unnerving that Charlie almost misses his next words:

“But you know, I’m pretty damn sure that ‘Charlie’ isn’t yours.”

“Yeah? Well, darn. Ya got me,” she breathes, trying to make herself remember that the Leviathan are gone, that she didn’t even see Cas when he was one of them.

In any other circumstance, Charlie would be reaching for the Borax.

But this angel-not-angel (and maybe-but-probably-not-demon-or-leviathan) kid whose name is definitely not Alvin, notices her sudden stiffness.

Immediately, he softens.

“Hey, what happened? You okay?”

Charlie shrugs. “You wouldn’t happen to be allergic to a certain 19th century boron-containing sodium compound, would ya?”

“Sodium borate? Like Borax? Can’t say I am,” the kid assures. “Any particular reason?”

“Uh, the word ‘Leviathan’ mean anything to you? Like specific, human-livestock-eating, double-tongued with lots of teeth lizard-men people-imitators specific? ‘Cause you just really reminded me of one there. And like I had a friend go Darkside… well, a lotta my friends have actually gone Darkside, but there was one and he… he’s missing still and well, bad things happen to my friends when they go missing.”

“Like apocalypses?”

“Yeah, kinda.”

“Really? Literal apocalypses? How exactly literal?”

“Um, pick a holy book at random? We’ve probably hit most of them by now,” Charlie admits, with a discomfited shrug as she vaguely wonders how she ended up on this side of the metaphorical interrogation table. “I think the first one was the Judeo-Christian one, they took things pretty literal. Michael-Lucifer prize fight and all…”

“Okay…” the kid says, finally sounding a little thrown, “but you stopped that one?”

“Yeah,” she tells him.

“So where are you now?”

“Somewhere between God’s little sister throwing a world-ending temper tantrum and you know a Luci-spawn antichrist accidentally poof-ing up new laws of physics?”

“Sounds plausible,” the kid tells her, his tone both entirely accepting of it as the gospel truth and sounding like he thinks she’s totally bonkers.

“No, it really doesn’t,” Charlie sighs. “Doesn’t change the fact it’s true. But enough about me and my world-ending escapades. How about your hole in the universe?”

“That’s the thing… See, I don’t remember.”

“What?”

“I don’t remember how I got here, I just remember that I don’t belong,” the kid confesses, sounding a lot more like he’s being honest than before. “I’m not supposed to be here, but I can’t explain what might be able to bring me back.”

“So, Lebanon, Kansas?”

“Has a safehouse I remember, or I think I do,” he lays out. “And it has a power source I think I need. And…”

“And..?”

Charlie’s hoping for something about the people waiting for him there, something about the ‘profound bond’ doing something to clue him in.

She can’t tell if this is just a spell or something, or if it’s a consequence of having Fallen, regained Angel status, and then seemingly kicked it again in the fastest repeat of the cycle yet.

“I dunno,” he sighs. “I just have to be there.”

Well, it’s not what she was hoping for.

But it’s still closer than she thought she’d get…

So, she’s still not 100% certain this kid is a whammied Castiel.

But she’s definitely like 85% certain, maybe 87%.

And in Winchester World? That there’s some pretty damn good lookin’ odds. So, Charlie will take what she can get and will roll with the rest.

Sam and Dean will be here in a few more hours. All she has to do ‘till then is keep this kid in arm’s reach and keep them both from being buckled up for the looney bin.

Sounds totally doable, right?

In retrospect, Charlie may have to adjust her definition of ‘doable’…

_ _ _

Keep up with everything I’m getting up to HERE!

Have a great week!

#fanfiction #fanfic #batman #batman & robin #BatFam #DCU #dcu fanfic #SPN #spn fanfic #supernatural #destiel #jay x tim #jason todd x tim drake #dean x castiel #multiverse #crossover #charlie bradbury

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theliberaltony · 4 years

Link

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Graphics by Anna Wiederkehr

Americans have changed their behavior in ways that would have been unthinkable even a few months ago. Masks are an essential accessory. Social distancing is the norm. And even as states moved to reopen their economies in May and June, many Americans continued to think it was better for people to stay home.

But underneath that apparent consensus is a large — and growing — partisan divide. Even as cases and hospitalizations spike in red states that mostly escaped the early effects of the virus, Republicans and Democrats remain stubbornly split on the threat it poses. For instance, it was only in July that President Trump wore a mask in public for the first time. And perhaps thanks to Trump’s repeated downplaying of the threat that COVID-19 poses, Republicans are much less concerned than Democrats are about the virus.

On the one hand, according to surveys conducted by the Pew Research Center, Republicans have consistently been less likely than Democrats to say that they fear being hospitalized because of COVID-19 or that they might unknowingly spread the virus to others. But on the other hand, that partisan gap has widened significantly between April and June.

It’s hard to find a more extreme test of our tribal political attachments than the current pandemic, where Trump continues to downplay the risks of the virus in the face of near-universal opposition from medical experts. It also raises a thorny issue: In the midst of a pandemic, partisanship appears to be shaping people’s perceptions of their risk and personal behaviors — to the point that our divided politics actually affects our health. For Americans, that might mean that questions of whether to stay home, wear a mask or to see friends and family without social distancing are filtered through a partisan lens.

In other words, do our politics risk making us sick?

It’s pretty clear that at this point, Republicans’ and Democrats’ experiences of the pandemic have been steadily diverging for months. It’s much harder to say, though, what that means for transmission of the virus. Some surveys offer a glimmer of hope, suggesting that the partisan gaps in how people are actually behaving — whether they wear a mask, for example — are much narrower than the divides on questions about what they think the government should do in response to the virus or whether the worst is behind us. It’s possible, too, that some of the partisan divides we’re seeing now could start to narrow as outbreaks spiral out of control in states like Arizona, Florida and Texas.

These trends are cause for alarm among the small army of social scientists who have tried to figure out how Americans are responding to the virus since the beginning of the pandemic — from the conflicting signals they’ve received from Trump and other political leaders, to changing guidelines from public health experts.

“Some Republicans are much less freaked out by the virus than they were a few months ago,” said Marc Hetherington, a political scientist at the University of North Carolina who is tracking Americans’ perspectives of the coronavirus through a panel survey. “But things are changing so quickly — these new outbreaks could scare them and maybe some of that polarization disappears.”

That doesn’t mean the politicization of the virus isn’t having an impact, though. Take the political fighting around whether people should be required to wear masks or the timeline around when businesses should reopen. The virus is spiking in Georgia, with thousands of new cases each day, but the state’s Republican governor is suing the Democratic mayor of Atlanta over the city’s decision to revert to its most restrictive opening phase and mandate the wearing of masks. “The national conversation about how we behave during this pandemic has been so colored by the partisan divide that it’s becoming impossible to talk rationally about the risks we are and are not willing to tolerate,” said Dr. Sandro Galea, an epidemiologist and the dean of the Boston University School of Public Health who studies the politics of public health. “If both sides were pushed out of their corners, they would both have to concede quite a bit, and we’d frankly all be safer.”

Understanding how Americans are responding to the pandemic isn’t an easy task; there are essentially two methods at researchers’ disposal. The first is to use a survey. The second is to look at mobility trends, such as geolocation or credit card data, to see if people are actually behaving the way they say they are. And over the past few months, political scientists and economists have leaned on both methods to figure out how Americans are thinking about the COVID-19 pandemic and how that relates to their behavior. With the exception of a few studies conducted in late March and early April, when fear of the pandemic ground the economy to a complete halt, all of this research has uncovered an accelerating partisan divide, too.

For example, as early as March, a group of researchers found that Democrats in a large panel survey exhibited more worries than Republicans about the pandemic and were also likelier to embrace health behaviors like more frequent hand-washing or avoiding mass gatherings. The first round of Hetherington’s survey suggests a partisan divide in Americans’ support for some public health interventions, like widespread testing.

The problem with these surveys, of course, is that there’s no way to figure out, for example, whether someone who says they’re quarantining is actually doing so. So a number of other studies have tried to figure out what people were actually doing by using geolocation data to follow people’s movements. This research has found basically the same thing as the surveys: People in Republican-leaning counties, or counties that voted for Trump in 2016, didn’t reduce their activity as much as people in Democratic counties.

Another study that looked at individual-level smartphone data found a similar pattern. And one team of researchers examined both survey data and geolocation data and determined that the trend held up for both — people in more Republican areas were less likely to feel at risk because of COVID-19, and they were also less likely to stay at home.

But this mobility data has its own limitations, according to Rebecca Katz, a professor at Georgetown University Medical Center. It can only tell you whether people are leaving their homes, not where they’re going or whether they’re taking precautions. “We’re all using this data because it’s the data we have, but it’s imperfect,” she said. “Sometimes, I pack my kids in a car and we just drive for a little while so we can get out of the house — by my cell phone, we’re moving. But that doesn’t tell someone looking at that data if we are interacting with other people, or if we’re wearing masks.”

Geography is another confounding factor; people in rural areas are more likely to drive places, even if they’re otherwise following public health guidelines, and less densely populated parts of the country were also less hard hit by the virus in the beginning. The problem is that Republicans are more likely to live in those parts of the country — and the effects of political segregation and the virus’s trajectory are very difficult to untangle, especially for studies that were conducted a month or two into the pandemic.

The partisan split was hard to deny, though, so early on, a couple of research teams tried to figure out why Republicans and Democrats were responding to the pandemic differently. Two usual culprits — politicians and the media — emerged as possible factors in the divide.

One study conducted from late February through the end of March found that the partisan divide on risk perception and health behavior only narrowed after the White House issued federal social distancing guidelines, suggesting that Trump’s role as a national Republican leader could be quite significant. Several other studies dug into the impact of cable TV, with one survey finding that an MSNBC viewer’s response to the pandemic was quite different than that of a Fox News watcher. Another study focused only on the impact of Fox News and concluded that an increase in viewership did appear to result in less social distancing. The evidence for the effects of politicians and differing media sources is less robust because there aren’t as many studies, but it does suggest that even when there are serious health risks at stake, how both talk about the virus and the public health response may affect the way people behave.

Shana Gadarian, a professor of political science at Syracuse University who is helping to conduct one of the panel surveys, said she was surprised to see such enormous divides emerge as the pandemic wore on. According to other research she’s conducted, moments of extreme anxiety and uncertainty can actually make people more open to new sources of information — including public health experts and leaders from the opposing party. So at the beginning of the pandemic, she and her team expected that Americans would coalesce around public health experts’ recommendations, or that other demographic factors — like age — would turn into key dividing lines.

Scientists and doctors do still enjoy a high level of trust from most Americans, as Maggie Koerth wrote for FiveThirtyEight in May. But that doesn’t mean they are entirely immune to the winds of partisanship — for example, Democrats are likelier than Republicans to trust the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Crucially, though, big divides haven’t emerged everywhere. According to the latest wave of the Democracy Fund’s Voter Study Group, conducted between July 2 to 8, the vast majority (88 percent) of Republicans said they wore a mask when going out in public, even though Republicans in greater numbers have said in other surveys that the government shouldn’t require people to wear masks. And according to Robert Griffin, research director of the Voter Study Group, that’s significantly higher than in any wave of the weekly data going back to May 28. There was more of a partisan gap in responses to other questions about coronavirus-related behavior, although it was still fairly modest.

So are these partisan splits actually driving the spread of the virus?

As it turns out, it’s hard to prove that Republicans’ resistance to mask mandates or social distancing is actually worsening the pandemic. One reason is that political scientists and economists don’t feel equipped to take on the epidemiological modeling that would be necessary to measure what, say, a partisan divide on hand-washing actually means for the spread of the disease. Yael Hochberg, an economist at Rice University, said that the lack of uniformity in testing data made her reluctant to wade into the public health data. “There are places where testing still isn’t widely available,” Hochberg said. “And if testing isn’t uniform, it’s hard to compare what you’re seeing in one county versus another.”

One study tried to pin down the effect of differing levels of compliance with social distancing policies among Republicans and Democrats using individual geolocation data. It concluded that a Trump voter who contracts COVID-19 infects 16 percent more people than a comparable Clinton voter. That’s a striking finding — but it’s also only one study, and several infectious disease experts who reviewed the paper at my request were a little skeptical of its conclusions.

Samuel Scarpino, a professor at Northeastern University who studies infectious diseases, said that it can be very difficult, even in a sophisticated model, to separate all of the confounding factors that could be at play, like geography. And Katz said that without information about whether people are wearing masks or engaging in social distancing, it’s hard to draw very solid conclusions about transmission from mobility data.

Scarpino was quick to add, though, that polarization can still be a serious problem, even if it’s hard to quantify its precise impact. “If politicians’ messaging is making people feel like they’re safe from COVID, those are people who are unnecessarily being put at risk,” he said. He’s also concerned that public health experts’ credibility will erode as certain health behaviors, like mask-wearing or social distancing, become associated with one party or another. “We’re kind of building the airplane as we fly it and we need to be able to change course when we get new evidence,” he said. “But it becomes harder to have those conversations and get buy-in from the public as the whole process becomes more politicized.”

There’s danger in exaggerating the extent of the partisan divide, though. Galea told me that he’s been struck by the fact that so many Americans — including nearly all Republicans — report they are going along with health experts’ recommendations, like wearing masks, at least to some degree. And it would be a mistake, Galea said, to gloss over this unusual level of partisan unity, because it’s a sign that health behaviors aren’t as divisive as they could be, given the strength of partisan loyalties.

“Nobody should ignore the fact that people on the political extremes are embracing polarizing positions on health behavior that should not be polarized,” Galea said. “But I think the evidence we have indicates that most people have tried to be responsible and adopt the recommended behaviors, even at a time of immense polarization and confusion and discomfort.”

That said, he still thinks some politicians — and in particular, Trump — need to do more to get on the same page as public health experts. “It’s not that politics is making it impossible to implement these health behaviors, because we see that many ordinary people are getting on board regardless of what political leadership is saying,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean we should give politicians a pass for turning these serious, serious health conversations into a political football, because that is very much to our detriment.”

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