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reigningqueenofwords · 8 hours

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Paintings

Pairing: Castiel x Winchester!Reader Word count: 1,953

Read on AO3

Sitting in the room that your brothers had set up for you, you tilted your head as you looked over the canvas in front of you. You were surrounded by some finished pieces, pieces you’d started and were waiting for new inspiration for, and then some pieces you hated and just never threw away. You were wearing a pair of old jeans and a tank top, not caring about the amount of paint that currently covered you.

There was a knock on the door before it opened. When you looked over your shoulder, you were met with Dean’s face. “Sis, we kill things for a living, so please tell me why you paint like this?” He motioned around as he stepped it.

“Like what?” You raised an eyebrow at him, looking innocent.

He played Vanna White at your current piece. “Like you just ripped a guy’s heart out and decided to paint with it?!” He said simply. “It’s weird.” He shuddered. “It’s like the murder room in here.” He explained.

You blinked. “Huh.” You shrugged. “I never thought of it that way.” You admitted. “Maybe it’s my way of working through things we see? You drink and jack off to Busty Asian Beauties. Sam nerds out. I paint.” That was your best theory. “And spend time with Cas when he can.” You pouted. He’d been somewhat busy lately, leaving you little time with your boyfriend.

“Hopefully he can take you out soon. Get you away from this.” He motioned to your work again. “Can’t you paint something with life?” He asked.

“I could try, but it probably wouldn’t be any good.” You told him.

He rolled his eyes. “You’ve got talent, so stop trying to pretend you don’t. Anyways, dinner is done.” He moved towards the door. “Can you take a break from blood and guts to eat with your older brothers?” He teased you.

“Give me five minutes to put the covers on my pallets and clean my brushes.” You smiled. “And get me a beer?” You asked him, going to work on cleaning up. “And not one of those alcohol free ones you’re hell bent on me drinking.”

“You’re my baby sister, so sue me.”

Stopping what you were doing, you stared at him. “Dean. I turned thirty two months ago .” You laughed. “I’m not a baby!”

“Shuddup.” He muttered before leaving you alone.

“Wash your hands.” Sam told you as he set things out on the table. “I know your hands are covered in paint.”

You chuckled. “Jokes on you. My hands are clean, Sammy.” You showed him when he looked up at you. “Had to clean my brushes.” You explained. “Need any help?” You offered.

He smiled. “Nope. We’re good.” He sat down as Dean brought over three beers. “I actually cooked dinner. No takeout tonight.” He said proudly.

“Oh, impressive. And I was so getting used to the bad Chinese and Taco Bell.” You teased, getting yourself comfortable. “And thank you for the real beer.” You told Dean, lifting it to your lips.

Cas appeared a moment later. “Oh, you’ve already begun dinner.” He sighed. “I was hoping to take Y/N for a date.” He explained. “Perhaps another night.” He noted, sitting down.

Dean nudged you. “Go on.” He told you. “Or he’s going to pout like a puppy who lost his bone.” He teased his best friend. It had been weird as hell when you first started dating him, but over time...he was okay with it. “Besides, that ‘another night’ might not happen for weeks for all we know.” He pointed out.

“You sure?” You looked between the boys. “You cooked.” You reminded Sam.

He smiled, nodding. “I can easily put the leftovers in the freezer.” He assured you. “Go.”

You got up, moving to hug each of your brothers. “You’re the best. Love you. I promise I’ll work on that ‘life’ painting tomorrow, Dean!” You kissed his cheek, making him chuckle and shake his head. You got to Cas and held out your hand. “All yours!”

Cas’s face lit up as he stood. “I am looking forward to our date. I’ve missed you.” He said sweetly before he kissed you.

Dean made a face. “Dude.” He said jokingly.

“Going!” You laughed, tugging Cas out of the room. “Let me change and then we can go. Did you have someplace in mind?” You asked as you neared your room. “So I know how to dress.”

“You are fine in what you are wearing.” He chuckled. “Although, I would suggest shoes.” He pointed out. “I find I enjoy when you are covered in paint. Means you had a good day in your ‘studio’, which I know makes you happy.” His blue eyes traveled over your body as he spoke.

You blushed and looked at him. “Can I show you my latest work?” You asked shyly, wanting to see if he thought the same thing as Dean.

He beamed. “Of course.” He nodded, letting you tug him in the direction of your little studio. “I always enjoy seeing it.” He had simply watched you work for hours on end before, observing you. It was beautiful.

Opening the door, you let him in and shut it behind him. “Dean doesn’t get my work.” You told him. “Says it looks like I took a guy’s heart and painted with it or something.” You traced your fingers gently over the outside of your new canvas. “Asked me to paint something with ‘life’.” You sighed.

“What is more full of life than blood?” Cas asked. When you looked at him, eyebrow raised, he smiled at you. “Blood truly is life.” He pointed out. “Without it, humans would die, animals would parish.”

You nodded at that. “That is a very good point.” You agreed. “Dean calls it the murder room.” You shrugged. “I dunno, just wanted your opinion. I never noticed it until he said that. I like my work. It speaks to me. Except for those.” You pointed to the corner. “Those are my disowned works.”

He chuckled lightly. “Why do you keep them?” He asked, curious.

“Inspiration to do better?” You guessed, chewing on your lip as you looked around. Slowly, you smiled at him. “I have an idea…” You moved to him, wrapping your arms around his neck. “And I need the help of a certain angel.” You flirted.

His arms wrapped around you, pulling you close. “And how may I help you?” He asked, voice low.

Pecking his lips, you grinned. “Strip.” You patted his chest.

“Strip? As in, remove my clothing?” He asked, wanting to clarify things.You nodded as you slowly pulled away, taking off your tank top.

Both of you stripped, eyes never leaving each other as you did so. “Now, pick some paint.” You pointed to where there was a bunch of new bottles. “No more than say six. Don’t want it to get muddy.” You moved things out of the way as he looked over his options, wanting them to be perfect. Once there was enough room, you set up as many canvases as you could fit in the area.

“Are these okay?” He asked, turning with two bottles in each hand- teal, dark blue, emerald green, and a color that reminded you of his eyes.

“Perfect.” You nodded, excited. “Give me two.” You reached out, getting dark blue and emerald green. “Now shoot streaks all over the place. On these canvases.” You told him.

“And this will create ‘life art’?” He asked as he opened his two bottles.

You did the same. “It’s the start.” You explained. “Move around to get some all over.” You told him, not staying put. Once you felt there was enough, you stopped. “That’s good. Can you put these over there?” You handed him your bottles and motioned to the ones that were opened.

Castiel nodded, taking them. “Of course.” He agreed. “Now...what?” He was curious as you walked across the canvases towards him.

“Now, you’re going to lay me down on these and we’re going to enjoy each other.” You ran your hand over his chest. “We’re going to make a painting with our bodies.” Kissing him softly, you smiled.

His hands gripped your hips. “I will not object to that.” He told you, kissing you lovingly as the pair of you moved to lay down.

Dean was walking by your room when he heard you laughing and paused. He furrowed his brows, moving towards it. “Sis?” He called out before opening the door. “Oh, come on .” He instantly left.

Walking into the kitchen, your hair was wet and you were wearing your bathrobe. Cas wasn’t that far behind, a smile on his face. He was dressed in his own clothes, but his hair was also wet. “Please erase that image from my mind.” Dean down the last of his beer.

“Hey, you asked me to create a life painting.” You smirked.

“I didn’t say ‘make babies in paint’!” He countered, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “I want to forget that sight.” He groaned.

Cas furrowed his brows. “We were not ‘making babies’.” He told Dean. “I have no wish to lose her to childbirth.”

You giggled as Dean put his head on the table. “I think you’re breaking him.” You told your boyfriend. “Let’s just get my ice cream and go watch a movie.” You said as you got a bowl. “I’m sure it’ll pass, Dean.” You told your older brother. “You’ll be okay.”

He shook his head, not moving it from the table. “I regret telling you to make ‘life paintings’. Please, stick to your murder work.” He turned his head to look at you.

“I might. Depends on if these sell.” You shrugged.

That made him sit up. “Sell?” He asked, curiosity piqued. “What are you talking about? You’ve never mentioned selling your work before.”

You nodded, finishing getting your ice cream and putting it away. “It was Cas’s idea. Said that my talent should be shared, and it might be a good way for us to make some spare cash.” You turned to lean against the counter, bowl in hand. “So, I’m going to ask Sam to help me figure out how to sell some stuff online.” You explained.

Dean smiled at that. “See, told you that you have talent.” He said proudly. “You got a ton of work in there you can sell.”

“Except I requested she keep one of our pieces.” Cas noted.

“Please never mention your ‘pieces’ again.” Dean said over his shoulder. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to find something to take my mind off...that.” He moved to the fridge to grab another beer before leaving the two of them alone.

Running through the bunker when you heard Dean get home from a supply run. “Dean!” You were nearly jumping with excitement. “Guess what?!” You squealed.

“What?” He laughed, loving seeing you like this.

“Everything. Sold.” You told him. “In just the time that you were gone.” You gushed. “Cas and Sam and helping me get everything wrapped up. The buyer is in the city.” You explained. “All. One. Buyer.”

His eyebrows went up. “One?!” He grinned. “That’s amazing. You sure it’s legit?” He didn’t want you getting screwed over.

You nodded. “He’s sent half the money already.” You told him. “We meet him about dinner time. And, then after, I’d like to take my big brothers out to celebrate.”

“What about Cas?” He asked.

“We’re going away for a few days, leaving Friday.” You told him happily. “Going to Greece. Saving on airfare, thankfully.”

Dean hugged you, happy for you. “You’ll be in a museum one day.” He beamed.

#castiel x reader #cas x reader #castiel oneshot

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reigningqueenofwords · 10 hours

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Requests!

Just a reminder that my requests are open.

I've written for:

DCEU

Doctor Who

MCU

Sons of Anarchy (I've only watched a season and a half, mind you)

Star Trek

Stark Wars

Supernatural

The Walking Dead

I will also accept ones I haven't written for/haven't seen before (youtube does wonders!).

Send a request

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reigningqueenofwords · 10 hours

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──────

The perfect responses to people who insist creators "must" write all stories, even those aimed at adults, like a 1980s cartoon PSA and spoon-feed their audiences everything — or else they'll be accused of being "irresponsible" *eye roll* if they let their bad guys win a la Alex in A Clockwork Orange (1971).

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reigningqueenofwords · 11 hours

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Bruce

Word count: 1,536

Read on AO3

Part 3 of Hello There

After your ‘meeting’ with the Winchesters, you had gotten to the play just in time. It had been a lovely evening, but how things at went at the bar still had on feeling weird. “Crowley?” You said softly as the two of you walked down the street.

He glanced at you. “Yes, love?” His tone was so very different than when he was around the Winchesters.

“Could I stay in hell tonight? I just have a funny feeling, ya know?” You tried to find the words to explain, but you just couldn’t. “It’s like they were checking on me not to see if I was okay, but to see if I’d changed. I don’t know.” You wrapped your arms around yourself.

He smiled at you. “You’re always welcome in Hell. Alive. No dying on me.” Crowley teased. “No need to explain. They must assume since you’ve been spending time with me that you must be evil or something.” He rolled his eyes. “I don’t know how their minds work.” Neither did you.

You smiled back. “Thanks. Movie night tonight?” You asked, hopeful. Many of the nights you spent in hell turned into movie nights.

Smirking, he snapped his fingers. You were both in your room in hell, you in your pajamas, and him, well, in his suit. “Do you own anything other than that?” You teased, sitting on the end of the bed. “Pajamas? Lounge pants? Jeans?” You’d love to see him in jeans.

“Are you trying to tell me something?” He asked with a grin.

“Maybe.” You shrugged. “You end up falling asleep in here anyway, might as well be comfortable.” Although when you woke up, he was always gone. You never knew if he simply went to his own room or what.

Sighing dramatically, he snapped his fingers once more. He was now in black lounge pants and a grey t-shirt. You couldn’t help but show your surprise. “Wow. Who knew the King of Hell could pull off anything other than a well tailored suit?” You teased. It was nice knowing that he liked you enough to let you talk to him like that. “So, what would you like to watch tonight?” You asked, moving to sit against the headboard.

Crowley shrugged. “What are you in the mood for?” He sat next to you. As always, he crossed his ankles gracefully, folding his hands in his lap. You always wondered why he was so damn formal around you. Not like you cared about all that.

“Didn’t I just ask you what you wanted to watch. No turning this around on me, Crowley.” You stuck your tongue out at him.

“You’re lucky I like you.” He chuckled. “Not many get away with talking to me like you do.” That you already knew.

You laughed. “I’m just special. I know.” You were joking, honestly not knowing why he kept you around. He suddenly got up, making you look at him funny. “I just remembered I need to go check on the hellhounds.” Crowley lied, snapping back into his normal clothes. “I’ll pop you back on the surface in the morning if you’d like.”

“Yeah, sure…” You tried to hide your disappointment. “I think I should just get some rest, anyway.” Without waiting for a reply, you rolled on your side and pulled up your blankets. Your back was to him, so you didn’t see the look in his eyes.

Crowley walked out, leaving you to wonder what you’d done. You weren’t acting any different than usual. Was he tiring of you? Sighing, you forced yourself to get some sleep.

The next morning, you were woken up by a long lick to the face. Covering your head with a pillow, you heard a low whine. That was new. Moving the pillow and sitting up, you were confused. You didn’t see anything. That’s it, you were going insane. You were sure of it. Stretching, you moved to get out of bed, hearing a small ‘thud’, like something falling off the bed. “Crowley?!?!” You yelled, slightly panicked.

He came rushing in, worry on his face. “What’s wrong?” He asked.

“I’m going crazy.” He looked at you funny. “I’m hearing things, and feeling things. I swear I felt a dog lick me this morning, and I heard one whine.” You’d never been near the hellhounds, so you didn’t even think about them.

“Oh. That’s Bruce.” He said with a shrug.

“….Bruce?” You repeated.

Crowley snapped his fingers, making you see the hellhound that was sitting by your feet. “I won’t be around as much, so I’m giving you Bruce.” He nodded his chin towards the hellhound, who was currently laying on his back. You couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

Then it hit you. He wouldn’t be around? “Wait. Why won’t you be around?” You asked.

“Work. That’s all.” You knew he was lying, but decided to not push it. Your heart clenched.

“Okay. Well. Let me change and you can pop me to the bunker.” If he was ditching you, you wanted to at least let the Winchesters know you were alive. Then you could move along, apparently with a hellhound in tow. He nodded, snapping his fingers. You were currently in a jeans and t-shirts. Did he want you gone that fast? “I guess I’ll see you around, huh?” You said, not even believing yourself.

“Yeah. I’ll come see you soon, love.” He said, a small smile on his face. Snapping his fingers, all three of you were outside the bunker.

Looking at him, you raised an eyebrow. “Plan on dropping me off like a kid who’s parents are divorced?” You asked.

“I have news for the wonder twins.” He said simply. You just made an 'oh’ face.

When Dean opened the door, he was surprised to see you. “Y/N?” He asked.

You gave him a small wave. “I just wanted to let you know I’m alive. I’m gonna be on my own for a bit, so just let me know if you need any help.” He could tell something was off between the two of you.

“Oh, you won’t be alone, you have Bruce.” Crowley snapped.

That took you by surprise. “Yeah. Sorry. I’ll have Bruce.” Seeing Dean’s look, you sighed. “He gave me a hellhound since apparently he won’t be around much.” You shrugged.

“Uh-huh. Well, you can come in. Sam’s in the library. Is…Bruce….with you?” He asked. You nodded and he sighed. “I guess Bruce can come, too.” Dean stepped aside and let you in. Once you were past, he blocked the door again. “What do you want?”

Crowley gave him a bored face. “I have some information for you.” He informed him. “There’s rumors spreading about a large gathering of witches in the north east part of New York. Planning something big. Witches are flying in from all over. From what I’ve gathered, they aren’t being too quiet about it, either.” Dean nodded. “And?”

“That means that you and Moose need to get up there and find out what exactly they’re planning, and stop them.” He sighed.

“Why do you need us to do this? Why can’t you?”

“Apparently, they’ve warded their base. You’re human.” Crowley pointed out. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I must…go elsewhere.”

“You aren’t going to say goodbye to Y/N?” Dean asked, suspicious. Crowley simply snapped his fingers and vanished. Dean slammed the door and stalked off. “Y/N!” He yelled, finding you in the library with Sam, looking upset. “What’s with the King of Douches?”

You glared at him. “I don’t know. I must have said something last night, because he’s been acting weird since.” You shrugged.

Sam looked confused. “What could you have possibly said to make him act differently towards you? I mean, hours before he was jumping to your defense. Now he’s dropping you off–”

“With a hellhound.” Dean cut in, causing Sam to stare at him.

“…With a hellhound, apparently, and saying he’s not going to be around much…”

“He mentioned last night that I’m lucky he likes me, that not many talk to him like I do. I laughed and jokingly said I’m special. Suddenly, he got up, said he had to check on the hellhounds, and left.” You told them, looking between the two of them. “So, I guess he doesn’t want me feeling that way. I don’t know. I’ll be out of your hair soon, guys.” You didn’t want to them to think you were back because Crowley got bored with you.

Dean shook his head. “Nah. We have a hunt. Could use your help. I don’t think Bruce can go, though.” Dean shrugged.

“Bruce?”

“Her pet hound, I guess. Wait, can you actually see him?” Dean asked, looking at you.

You nodded. “Yeah. He woke me up this morning and I thought I was going insane. Crowley made it so I can see him after. He’s actually kinda cute. In a weird way.” Your eyes shot to where the dog was currently rolling around on the ground near Sam. “….I’m thinking he’s a puppy.” A big puppy, but a puppy. They just looked at you, surprised to hear a hunter had a hellhound for a pet.

#crowley series #crowley x reader #supernatural

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reigningqueenofwords · 12 hours

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People seem to have forgotten that "proship" was the Fandom norm for the longest time.

Only, it wasn't called proship. It was called ship and let ship. Or minding your own buisness.

If someone had a ship you didn't like or thought was gross, you would avoid them. If they drew art or wrote stories you didn't agree with or like, you would ignore them.

There were tags like smut, whump, and angst to tell people about things they might not want to read. And then dead dove: do not eat for taboo subjects and especially gritty fic.

Then people started to ignore that. Younger fans started to bully people because they disagreed with shipping certain characters. Whether it be because it "wasn't canon", they thought it was gross, or they just didn't like it.

These people began calling themselves "anti-ship"

Pro-ship became a label to show that someone was against anti-ship.

Eventually, the anti-ship movement began to die down. So do you know what they did? They started accusing people. Of being pedophiles, groomers, rape supporters, and more. All because they wrote or drew things that these people didn't like.

They began claiming that THEY were the Fandom norm, and that these "proshippers" were the bad people. They started claiming that proship stood for "problematic shipping"

Due to this, the term "pro-ship" is often misconstrued as to what it means. Many people don't even KNOW what it means.

It means "anti-censorship".

It means that we support someone's right to produce art, no matter how gross, no matter how taboo, no matter how "problematic"

Because it's not hurting anyone.

If it's something you don't want to see? Block the person. Block the tag. Say in your bio that you don't like it. That's what they're FOR!

This was discussed in earlier days of fandom.

"I wonder why people would read a story in a genre they don't care for, then take the time to let the writer know that sure enough, they didn't care for it. That would be like me going to a restaurant, ordering a slice of cherry pie, then asking that the chef be brought out so I can say "I don't like cherry pie, and I didn't like yours either." To continue this analogy into its usual fannish outcome, the chef would say "Well gee, lady, why did you order it?" And I'd say, "Are you questioning my right to order cherry pie?"

-Unknown 2002

Except now, it would be like the person who didn't like the cherry pie and ordered it anyways then demanded that no restaurant serve cherry pie because it was poison. Not only is it a ridiculous request, it's blatantly untrue.

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reigningqueenofwords · 13 hours

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Hey so i was wondering if you have a piece on how fanfics about real people. Been in fandoms since 2012 and well growing up in such places you learn ( just like you wrote in your fanfic’s are a restaurant, don’t order it if you don’t like it)

(All within reason)

You can enjoy what to read. Your business no need to push it down someone’s throat neither is someone pushing anything for you to like. Don’t like it, it isn’t for you, move on.

I wrote something recently saying how surprised i am I didn’t find fanfic’s on a certain actor, seen as there is always something for everyone. Then someone jumps my throat and says how unacceptable it is to write about actual people.

I remember vividly this conversation has been had in the sherlock fandom when Benedict found some fic’s about him and it started the conversation “ actor fanfic’s; okay or not”

I told this person to move on and mind their business. If it isn’t for you, move on. There is plenty of fanfics for henry cavill / jensen ackels and other known actors so what is the problem with me asking about a new person who is on the come up. It isn’t a niche choice i know that actor ( alan ritchson) is going to have quite the fanbase after the ministry of ungentlemanly warfare.

So please tell me, am i crazy? I remember the debate years ago on fanfic morality being settled with the verdict of “ as long as you are not a creep who is walking up to actors or bothering them with fic’s about THEM not characters and keeping to yourself as ang other fic… you do you”

RPF is a touchy spot for a lot of people, but in short, writing RPF is perfectly fine provided you follow the typical safeguarding measures such as using sites like AO3, using proper tags to enable blacklisting, ect.

RPF is not and frankly has never been the problem. The problem is specific individuals with no regard or respect for real life boundaries and proper conduct.

Celebrities know RPF happens. Trust me; they know. They know people are on specific websites writing the nastiest rawdogging you can imagine.

Celebrities are also aware of the means by which they can avoid it. They are not clueless little creatures bumbling around and accidentally finding the likes of AO3. They know.

Just like with fan-to-fan content, its our job as their fans to respect their boundaries and choices by giving them the appropriate measures by which to control what parts of our world they see.

(Its part of why you'll never see me on the likes of Twitter sharing fanfic, fanart, ect. The filtering tools on Twitter are frankly appalling and the knowledge that my monsterfucking eggpreg ABO dystopian smutverse could end up on Henry Cavill's homefeed would leave me actually killing myself with a hammer.)

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reigningqueenofwords · 14 hours

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daydreaming about writing: 🥰😍🥹❤️😊🌺✨😘

the act of actually writing: 😭😰😵‍💫😭😰😭☹️😖

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reigningqueenofwords · 15 hours

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The Hotter Sister

Word count: 300

Read on AO3

Just like with most things that involved the Winchester boys, it all started with something stupid. Dean was arguing with Sam over who’d be the hotter chick. He was convinced it would be him. There was no way that Sam would ever be a hot chick. Sam, on the other hand, told Dean he’d be a hideous woman.

Squabbles like this between the 17 year old boy, and his younger, 13 year old brother weren’t all that uncommon. Usually, John would come break it up, telling them they needed to look out for each other, or a new topic would be brought up.

Not this time. John was out, leaving the two teenagers to themselves. Then came the two words that would always get each of them going.

Prove it.

Now, they both knew that actually becoming a woman, especially for the sake of an argument, wasn’t possible. Dean had some balloons left over from Sam’s birthday. “Boobs.” He smirked, tossing two to Sam.

“Are you sure you’re the older brother?” Sam asked.

Dean laughed. “You just don’t want to admit that I’d be the hotter sister.” Sam’s face turned sour, glaring at his brother. It was a stare down as they worked on blowing up their balloons, trying to make the second match the first as close as possible. Sam put his in first, turning his shirt into a belly shirt. He took them out, complaining about the way they felt.

Rolling his eyes, Dean put the balloons in his shirt, striking a pose. Sam lost it. Dean had a grin on his face, hearing his little brother laugh. Just as he posed again, John opened the door and looked between his sons. “Ya know what…I don’t want to know…” He muttered to himself, walking right back out.

#young sam winchester #young dean winchester #the only acceptable boys will be boys #supernatural drabble

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reigningqueenofwords · 16 hours

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They’re Just Kids

Pairing: Steve x Winchester!Reader Word count: 1,229

Read on AO3

“So, uh, funny story…” You chuckled awkwardly into the phone, glancing into the backseat of your SUV.

Dean groaned. “Do I want to know…?” Your older brother asked, worried about what you had to tell him.

Sighing, you made the turn you needed before speaking. Thankfully, even though you were using the handsfree bluetooth, the other occupants of the car were sleeping. “Well, in good news, you finally get to meet my boyfriend!” You said, your overly cheerful voice giving you away- letting him know something was up.

“Okay?” He asked, silently urging you to go on.

“Let’s just say, him and his best friends wanted to try a hunt.” You said hurriedly.

Dean blinked, staring down at a young Tony Stark, Bruce Banner, and Steve Rogers. His eyes went to you. “I thought you said I’d be meeting your boyfriend. Not a midget boy band.”

“Watch it.” Tony snapped, glaring the best he could, making Dean raise an eyebrow at him. “I’m short, but I can still take you.” He crossed his arms over his chest.

“Please tell me that’s not Steve.” His eyes were almost pleading with you.

You giggled and shook your head as you pointed to the blonde in the middle. “That’s Steve. The one you’ve already managed to annoy is Tony, the quiet one is Bruce.”

Shoving his hands in his pockets, he sighed. “Well, what are we supposed to do with them? Isn’t Tony some big shot?” “Yeah, as an adult. What’s he supposed to do now? He’s maybe 8 years old.”

“Oh no. Nope. Not happening.” Dean shook his head.

Sam laughed, shaking his head as Dean sat in the library, sulking. “You could never tell her ‘no’.”

“Like you’re one to talk!” Dean shot back before he saw Bruce walking by with a book. “Isn’t that a little advanced for you?”

Bruce shook his head. “I may look 8, and have the maturity of an 8 year old- however, I am not actually 8.” He pointed out, the words sounding odd coming from someone so young. “I figured I’d do some reading while trapped here.”

“Great. I’m surrounded by bookworms.”

“I’m not listening!” Tony came in, fingers in his ears, yelling loudly.

Steve was right behind him, an annoyed look on your face. “You’re acting like a child!”

Tony whipped around. “I am a child!”

“Yes, we know you’ve always had the mentality of one, but you can’t think of something to get us back to normal?” The tiny super soldier all but pouted.

“How would I know how to reverse magic?!” Tony glared.

“Hey! Short stacks!” Dean snapped, making them both give him a dirty look. “Where’s my sister?”

Steve blushed a dark red. “Showering.”

Tony laughed. “You’re just mad she kicked you out!” His laughter was cut short when Steve tackled him. “Get off me!” He yelled as Steve’s small fists tried to connect with Tony’s face.

“HEY! Lemme go!” Steve squirmed as Sam lifted him easily, his arms around the small boy’s waist. “Lemme at ‘em!” He yelled.

Bruce ignored them, sitting at the table, kicking his feet. “They’ll get over it. They always do.” He said calmly, turning a page.

Dean was holding Tony back from Steve while Sam was holding back Steve. “Alright! Time out!” Dean declared. “Both of you in your rooms for the next ten minutes.” His voice was stern, and deep.

“I don’t have to listen to you!” Tony snapped.

“Wanna make it twenty?” He dared the young man, giving him a look. Tony snapped his mouth shut, crossing his arms over his chest. They were each carried to different rooms, and as Sam and Dean shut the doors, they sighed and shook their heads. “I’m never having kids.” Dean muttered.

“Good.” Sam smirked. It quickly fell when he heard music blaring from Tony’s room, making him wince. Dean grinned proudly at Tony’s music choice, making Sam shake his head and walk away.

Walking out of the bathroom, you jumped when you walked into Dean. “They’ve been here one day, and I’m going insane.” He hissed. “Seriously. We just had to pry your boyfriend and the annoying one apart! The blonde one–”

“Steve.” You said calmly.

“Steve. Whatever. The blonde one was wailing on the mouthy one-”

“Tony.” You reminded him.

He shot you a look. “Tony.” He said through clenched teeth. “I’m contemplating taking a fake hunt to avoid dealing with them!”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “They can’t be that bad.”

As if on cue, Steve went running by, followed by Tony. “Get back here, you goodie two shoes!” He called after him.

Turning, you both chased after them, curious about what they were fighting about this time. “Steve!” You called out. “Tony!”

Instantly, they stopped and turned, both trying to act completely innocent. “Yes?”

“Why are you chasing Steve?” You asked.

Tony shrugged. “Because he wouldn’t let me have fun with Bruce.”

“You were trying to see if he would still Hulk out. That’s just ‘having fun’. That’s being stupid.”

“I’m not stupid!” Tony turned, yelling at Steve.

Steve turned, glaring. “You’re acting like an idiot!”

“Okay, boys!” You stepped in the middle. “Dean, how about you show Tony Baby?” Dean went to protest and you shot him a look. “Steve, how about we go figure out what to make for dinner? I mean, if there’s anything that’s safe to eat in the kitchen.” You muttered.

Dean grumbled as he led the small Stark to the garage. “Stupid sister.” He sighed. “Making me play with the mean one.”

Tony raised an eyebrow at Dean. “Are you sure I’m the child here?”

“Oh, bite me.” Dean shot back.

Sitting at breakfast, Dean rubbed his temples and stared at his cup of coffee that sat in front of him. “I hate that little shit.” He yawned, reaching down to lift his mug.

“Which one?” Sam asked, looking over at his brother.

“The evil one.” He told him. “Hopefully they sleep in. I’d like some peace and quiet.”

Three sets of small feet could be heard running towards the kitchen, followed by yelling. “I hate you so much right now.” Sam glared at his brother. “You had to say that, didn’t you?”

Thankfully, you walked in the other door just as the three boys ran in. “I’m hungry.” Tony whined.

“How are you so damn awake?” Dean asked, looking at Tony like he was insane. “You were up all night playing video games and blaring your music.”

Tony shrugged. “I’m young.”

“They’ve been this age forever. How much longer do we have to deal with them?” Dean asked, looking to you with pleading eyes.

You shrugged. “They’ve been like this for just about a week. So, any time now?” You told them. “Could be– oh God.” You slapped your hands over your mouth as the three of them were back to their usual sizes. Their clothes didn’t fare so well, as you’d gotten them each a few things at the local thrift store. “Um….” Snapping your eyes shut, you heard Dean choke on his coffee. “CLOTHES!”

Sam groaned. “Oh, good Lord.” He shuddered. “I’m going back to bed to pretend this never happened.” He sighed as he got up and passed you. “It was nice seeing you, but please never let them hunt again.” Sam said under his breath.

“Noted.” You nodded.

#supernatural x marvel

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reigningqueenofwords · 16 hours

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reigningqueenofwords · 17 hours

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Dean Winchester- Hunter, Brother...Grandfather?

Word count: 861

Read on AO3

Part 4 of Just a Glimpse

Mary watched you, your hands gripping the arms of the chair. “She’s not moving from this chair, Dean.”

“She’s going to have to!”

“Why?” As if on cue, Sammy’s fussing came through the monitor. “…There’s a baby in the bunker?”

You clenched your jaw. “I told you! My son.” Moving to get up, she moved forward with the gun. “I’m going to my son.”

“Mom! Let her get to him! We’re heading to the car now.” Dean told her, rushing.

Dean had the phone between his shoulder and ear as he started the car. Hearing a gunshot, he froze.

His heart was racing. Did he get his daughter killed by not sending his mother a text? Would he go back to a dead teenager on his floor? Sam had never seen that look on Dean’s face. He knew that he was scared, he was, too. This was something beyond fear, that not even he could place. He sped the whole way home, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel.

Baby was barely in park and he was running towards the bunker door. “Mom?!” He called out, rushing around. “Y/N?” His voice was dripping with panic and worry.

“In here, Dean.” Mary called out from the library.

Both Dean and Sam ran through the bunker, skidding to a stop in the doorway. You were laying on the ground, holding your side. Dean’s breathing picked up, and for the first time he felt like he might have a panic attack. “CAS!” He called out, his voice cracking. “Come on, Cas!” Dean moved forward, feeling like his knees would give out at any moment. Sam was frozen in place, staring. “Where the hell is he?!” Dean breathed as he dropped to his knees next to you. He pulled your head into his lap.

“Mom! What did you do?” Sam finally asked, Sammy’s crying breaking him from his trance. His voice was firm, and angry. Walking through, he rushed to get to Sammy.

Mary looked scared as she watched Dean cry over you, brushing your hair back from your face. “Come on, sweetheart.” He begged.

You gave him a weak smile. “Tis but a flesh wound.”

He let out a chuckle mid sob. “Quoting Monty Python? Now?”

“Someone needs to be calm.” You breathed.

Dean looked to where your hand was and pulled off his jacket, tossing it to the side. Pulling off his flannel, he pushed it down on your hands. “CASTIEL!” He hollered, looking up.

There was a fluttering of wings behind him. “Dean?” He asked, moving forward, his brows furrowed.

“Heal her.” He said, looking up, his green eyes full of tears. “Please.” Of course he didn’t need to say that, but he’d beg if it meant saving her.

“Of course.” Cas nodded, kneeling down just as your eyes were starting to grow heavy. He touched your forehead gently, healing you. Your eyes remained closed, but your breathing improved. “She will need to rest. What happened?”

Dean moved to lift you off the floor. “I’ll explain in a minute. And we’re going to have a talk.” He glared at Mary, who was silently crying on the floor.

After Dean had put you in your room, he stormed back towards the library. Sam was sitting in a chair feeding Sammy, Cas was standing around, and Mary was pacing. They all looked over and it was clear that the fear and panic turned into pure rage. Mary moved forward. “I’m so–”

His clenching jaw cut her off. “I TOLD YOU!” He yelled, making her jump. “I told you that we knew she was here. I told you to LET HER GO.” Dean’s chest was heaving. “And you shot her. You shot MY DAUGHTER.” Sammy started crying at that. He took a breath, calming himself. “If Cas hadn’t shown up, my grandson would be an orphan. Now, I know you didn’t know wh–”

“She told me.” Mary whispered.

“She…told you?” He asked. She nodded. “And then I tell you I know she’s here. To let her go. You didn’t add it up?”

Mary shook her head, Sam could tell she felt guilty, but Dean had to get there. “You’d never mentioned her. Or him.” She looked to Sam.

Dean ran a hand through his hair. “Look at our life, mom. Our life is harsh. I should have called you or texted you when she showed up. But you? You shot her.” His voice was quiet, and it broke. His eyes locked on hers. “I nearly lost a daughter I barely know.”

“She’s from the future, mom.” Sam spoke up. “She was in danger, so Dean had Cas bring the two most important people in his life here. For who knows how long.” He explained.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to.” She told them. “I got jumpy, worried about you two.” Mary explained. Her eyes went back to Dean. “So, you’re a grandfather?” She smiled softly.

He nodded. “Yeah. I am. Or…will be.” The whole time line thing screwed with him.

She moved over to where Sam was. “He’s gorgeous.” She ran her thumb over his head. “You can tell he’s a Winchester.”

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