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aoitrinity · 3 years

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Why Do I Have to Feel Like a Fucking Conspiracy Theorist -- OR -- How I Find a Semblance of Peace on Sunday Night

I’m also going to start this out with a GIANT DISCLAIMER.

I am about to theorize about what may have happened to the SPN finale. I have absolutely no insider knowledge. I am merely speculating here based on the panels and a bunch of Twitter and Tumblr posts that I have been reading over the last few days. If you are not in a good place to read such things, TURN BACK PLEASE. Go take care of yourself and your mental health. You and your feelings are valid and deserve to be handled gently right now.

Additionally, if you are here to give me shit for being unhappy with the ending, please walk away as well. I am here to reach out and share my feelings with people who might be struggling to make sense of something that upset some of us in very deep-seated ways. I am not here to bother you or critique you or tell you that you’re lesser because you liked the ending. If you felt it was good, then go enjoy it.

Long-ass post beneath the cut, everyone.

Alrighty folks...I debated whether or not to do this because I have been spiraling down the hell that is the SPN finale since Thursday. The travesty of what happened to our show--to this beloved show that seemed to have been so perfectly and precisely written for at least four years that it had basically already paved its own tarmac on which to land its plane and we all thought we knew exactly what we were going to get. And then we didn’t. We had a nigh Cas-less and entirely Eileen-less ending. We had no goodbye between Cas and Jack. We had Dean dying young after finally finding his freedom, only to ascend to heaven with no one but Bobby. We had the weird, weird, weird incest-y death scene. We had the bridge crane shot thing because...sure. You do you, Robert Singer.

It was so terrible, so truly awful, and I couldn’t seem to square any of it with anything we had known going in. I tossed and turned and cried and didn’t eat or sleep all weekend. I spent hours just reloading tumblr and twitter, going to the Misha panel, reading and reading and listening and trying to figure out what the fucking hell is going on because I needed to know exactly where to direct my anger. And after a fuckton of talking with @winchester-reload, I think we have at least a very plausible theory about what happened here--I’m laying it out below as much for my own peace of mind as anything else, because otherwise all of these thoughts are going to continue to spin around in my head for weeks and I won’t be able to do jack shit.

Now to start off, unfortunately I do think Dean was slated to die from the beginning of this season. I don’t know WHY they thought that was the best way to go, and I wish they had listened to Jensen on this one. Part of me wonders if it was an order from on high based on the discussion between Becky and Chuck earlier this season--the writers knew it wasn’t a great choice, but they were trying to signal to us that we should feel free to write our own endings to the story because they’d be better (I can wax poetic on the signs of why many of the writers probably wanted Dean to live, but that’s another post). I’m not defending that choice by any means, just laying it out there that I think they didn’t necessarily all want to kill Dean like they did.

However, what I THINK I can explain now is what happened with Misha and why we got so jerked around with Cas’s story. Consider what we know (I can’t immediately source all of it, but I did my best):

At the end of episode 15x19, Lucifer has been returned to the Empty after being killed AGAIN. He talks with Cas. Maybe harasses him a bit about Dean, idk. But then...Jack shows up. New God Jack. And he picks up Cas and pulls him out of the Empty, leaving Lucifer behind, because seriously. Fuck that guy (also leaving behind his abusive father is character growth for Jack, so yay for that).

-Misha was contracted to film 15 episodes this season. He was only in 14.

-Misha told Michael Sheen he had to go back to film 1.5 episodes after the shutdown in March. (Starts at 6:13)

-Misha was in Vancouver during filming of the finale.

-Mark P said at Darklight Con that the last scene he filmed was with Alex and Misha (and Mark P was only in episode 19).

-Misha implied that he was present for various filming moments, including Dean’s death (start at 35:15), and said that it felt like a “mini-reunion.”

-Various sources have mentioned that Jimmy Novak was supposed to be in the finale.

-After episode 18, Stands tweeted a fan who was angered and hurt by Cas's death that they could talk about the “bury the gays” issue after the finale aired.

-In episode 19 we know there were takes of the parking lot scene where the only thing fans observing could hear was Dean yelling “CAS” at Chuck (fuck I can’t find this one right now, but it’s definitely out there)

-Also in episode 19, we had a very strange, awkward montage at the end of the episode.

-In episode 20, we know there were a FUCKTON of missing scenes

-We also had no opening montage, but three other separate montages.

-Carry on My Wayward Son was played TWICE, back-to-back at the end of the episode.

-Episode 20 was shorter than normal and had surprisingly little dialogue. The pacing was VERY strange.

-The cast and crew has been almost completely silent about the finale since it came out. When they have spoken, it has been with an awkward excuse of “Uh...COVID?”

-Samantha Ferris has specifically noted that, despite the Harvelle’s being back in play and a big heaven reunion having been planned pre-COVID, neither she nor Chad Lindberg received any such invitation to return.

-Cas and Dean POP Funko figures were pictured together in a replica of Harvelle’s in 15x04.

NOW with all of this in mind (and I’m probably missing some stuff too because there is so much--feel free to add on to that list), please bear with me because here is what I think we were SUPPOSED to get POST-COVID (after it was determined that the reunion couldn’t happen because of the virus):

In episode 20, we start with our NORMAL OPENING MONTAGE, like always. It traces everything that happened during the season. We are reminded of Cas. The confession. Rowena. Eileen. Jack. Billie, God, the Empty, all of it.

Things then follow along in the episode where they did up until Dean dies and wakes up in heaven. After his conversation with Bobby, he drives off to find Cas (who, in the script, was listed as “Jimmy Novak” in order to protect against script leaks--who wouldn’t want to do their best to avoid spoilers about the finale with the wrapping of a fifteen-year show?). He does indeed find Cas. We get Dean’s end of the confession. Hell, maybe we even get a kiss. And then Dean sets up his new heaven home in the recreated Harvelle’s. Maybe Cas even fucking moves in.

Years pass. We get Sam having his life on Earth (still can’t explain why they cut Eileen and couldn’t even have Sam signing vaguely to the blurry brunette in the background; if anyone wants to take that on, go for it). Eventually, Cas tells Dean that it’s almost Sam’s time. Dean takes Baby and goes to meet Sam at the bridge. The cover of Carry on My Wayward Son plays during this much shorter sequence. End of episode.

But that’s not what we got. Instead, much of what I just wrote about was excised from the episode. The remnants were stitched together after shooting had been wrapped. Filler was added in the form of montages and long, unnecessary extra shots to get the episode to something approaching a reasonable length.

But why? Why would they spend all that time and money and quarantining on Misha, only to almost completely cut him out of the finale? I struggled with why the fuck the CW would want this mammoth show to go down as the greatest queerbait in TV history when they had the chance to do something truly beautiful and monumental with it? It couldn’t just be sheer homophobia, right? Well, I think that factored into it, my friends, but here is where my head is at right now.

It was about cold, hard cash.

Now I could be wrong, but this is what I’m thinking at the moment: Supernatural is going off of the air. Supernatural, the CW’s cash cow for fifteen years. Sure there is still money to be made on blu-rays and merchandise and cons...but they need people watching their shows. They need that sweet advertising revenue. And you know what show they have about to premiere? A show that could, potentially, bring with it a chunk of that SPN revenue?

Walker.

And if any of you know anything about the original Walker Texas Ranger, you know that the show was predominantly a show about a very heterosexual white man being very excessively heterosexual. And for SOME REASON over the years, many of the execs at the CW still seem to think that this show, Supernatural, is really attractive to a lot of middle-American white men...whom they desperately want to watch this new show with this guy from Supernatural that they already know.

Now here’s where COVID fucked us. I think Destiel was greenlit by TPTB, at least in SOME form, before COVID. But then the pandemic happened, and they panicked. They got the cut of the last two episodes and watched them in their original, probably queer form. And then, the execs at CW looked at the economy. They looked at their cash cow, about to make its journey to the great beyond. And they looked at this new little calf Walker that they were so desperately worried about. And they made a choice.

They decided that it would be too risky to take the step with Destiel. They were worried about frightening off their ever-so-valuable hetero male demographic with the possibility that a traditionally masculine man in his 40s could be in love with another man in an overt way. It was homophobia mixed with greed, spun up by fear for their revenues because of COVID.

So they called in Singer, possibly Dabb, although I wouldn’t be surprised if they went straight to Singer. They told them that Destiel had to go: executive orders. And the only way to make it go in a way that removed any trace of what had been there was to rewrite what happened to Cas and cut him out from the last two episodes entirely. It was too late to reshoot anything. They had to just cut and stitch and fill with bullshit montages.

They removed the scene at the end of 19, probably because Cas and Lucifer discussed Dean. All that was left of Misha there was his voice on that fake phone call. They may have cut other things too, but I would bet my life that they cut a scene from the end of the episode and replaced it with that very strange montage. Then they moved onto 20. They cut out every scene with Cas. And left in only two platonic mentions of him, neither made by Dean. They tried to imply that Cas might show up in Dean’s heaven at some point, but that was as far as the editors could go in the time they had. They filled in with montages, awkwardly long shots, anything they could do to fill all of those missing scenes.

And they even had to take the opening montage, because literally everything in it pointed to Cas being there at the end of it all. They wouldn’t be able to leave out his scenes, they were too critical to the season. They couldn’t cut his confession without raising eyebrows. So they cut the whole thing and moved “Carry On My Wayward Son” to one of the newly-added driving montages at the end. Which is why we awkwardly had both songs play back-to-back--again, such a strange choice unless they were out of options and couldn’t exactly buy rights to a new track or compose anything else.

And so we were left with the shadow of the finale that we deserved, that Cas and Dean deserved. We were left without resolution or happiness or words. Bobo told us the most important thing about happiness is just “saying it” and our characters were silenced without anyone ever knowing the truth.

I think the writers might have known and been given the new party line that “Misha never filmed, he couldn’t, sorry, it was COVID, no one’s fault!” But I don’t think most of the cast even knew it had happened until they watched the finale on Thursday with us (though they might have been confused why the bit from 15x19 was sliced, they could reasonably have assumed it was a time thing and also BL episodes don’t make sense anyway). Why do I say that?

Well, first of all, Misha started sending out a bunch of excited texts to fans with some old BTS pictures about an hour before the show started airing on EST. He also wanted his children to see the episode, his YOUNG children. Why would he show them such a traumatic episode if their Dad wasn’t in it? What if it was because he wanted them to witness what was going to be a monumental moment in queer television history that their DAD got to be a part of? And then that was all dashed.

Which is why I think the cast and crew went almost completely radio silent the next day. I don’t think they knew. And based on how they have been acting on social media since then, I think many of them are absolutely furious, but they have been silenced because of NDAs, because they want to find work again in a cutthroat industry, because they don’t want to bring down the hellfire of Warner Brothers Entertainment upon themselves. So the most we have gotten is a little acknowledgement from the MERCHANDISING COMPANY trying to validate our pain (god bless Shirts, she is a LIFESAVER) and a response to my salty tweet about keeping good stuff in the closet from Adam Williams (the VFX coordinator) that seemed to acknowledge the validity of my complaint.

Then there was a scramble behind the scenes, I would bet my life. Talking points were fed to the boys who had panels today, to CE, to all the cast and crew:

Toe the party line. Misha never filmed. This was always about COVID. Do not mention Destiel. Do not mention Dean’s feelings for Cas. Do not promote the Castiel Project or anything that validates the idea that this was anything less than a superb ending.

And that is why we have heard so little from the cast on this front, and what we have heard has been muddled and contradictory. That is why the writers are saying nothing. That is why we have been left adrift.

Now before I close this out, I do want to say that I really, genuinely do not think this was on the writers at all. I feel like they tried to give us the best ending that they could, in a writers room that we know is notorious for splitting along party lines about the overall story (BL and Singer, who have always been about the brothers and their man-pain vs. Dabb and the rest who always seemed to want more for them and for Cas). I think they did everything in their power to at least end with Dean and Cas happy together. If they could give us nothing else, they wanted to give us that. And then the network took it from them. From us. From everyone.

For the sake of fucking money.

And the WORST PART OF IT ALL, for me, is that in the wake of this disaster, the fans have been left to try and figure out what happened. We have had to wade through a mire of conflicting information in the midst of all of our collective anger and grief over this garbage ending of a show many of us have loved and even relied on for YEARS, all the while wondering if we’re just fucking crazy, if we have all fallen collectively into the hole of conspiracy theories. That hurts ESPECIALLY badly because we have taken so many hits over the years from other groups on social media saying we were crazy for seeing things that weren’t there (especially Destiel), for writing meta and analyzing tropes and believing the evidence of our eyes and ears. The network has made us relive that entire nightmare WHILE processing our grief for a show we wanted so badly to celebrate and which instead we now have to mourn.

So again guys, I cannot prove that this is exactly what happened at all; this is simply my idea of what may have happened. But right now, it’s the most sense I can make from this mess, and to be honest, the act of typing it out has helped me enormously in my processing of it all. I feel like I can see more clearly, like I know where to target my outrage and where to direct empathy. I feel like just fucking maybe, I might be able to do my job tomorrow without bursting into tears at random moments.

I really hope that this post has helped some of you to, in some small way, process this too. We get through this the way that Misha told us at his panel this morning, the way the writers have told us to do all season long...we throw out the story God gave us and we make it better. We write our characters the happy endings they deserve.

We save them.

One last thing--if you have not already, please consider channeling your rage into a donation to one of the five causes our fandom has put together to pay tribute to our beloved show and to mourn the ending it should have had:

-The Castiel Project

-Dean Winchester is Love

-Sam Winchester Project

-The National Association of the Deaf

-The Jack Kline Project

#supernatural season 15 #spn finale #speculation #destiel #destielgate #the ending was not the ending #fuck the cw #trust the story #we were robbed

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anathewierdo · 3 years

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Bump on the Road

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader

Word count: 1594

Summary: Y/N discovers she's pregnant.

Warnings: None, I believe. Fear of Sam leaving the reader.

A/N: to the anon that requested this pic, I hope you like it, darling. This pic is a lot shorter than my usual, so I apologize for that, but I think it's good ^-^'.

My masterlist

The life of a hunter has no guarantees. With every case, comes the risk of not living to see the next hunt, to be caught in the impersonation of a federal agent and winding up in jail, to mess with the wrong partner once and wind up dead.

Y/N has always found it ironic how in all of the odds that hunting can have, to live a somewhat normal or balanced life is practically a nonexisting one.

Like the world is telling you that your only choice is to fight monsters. That you can’t have that decent apartment you saw once or that you can’t actually date the cute civilian because they don’t know what’s bumping in the night and they wouldn’t believe you if you told them.

In a life like this one, stability is a luxury, a rarity.

Y/N can barely think of a few hunters who have that luxury and most of them are dead.

Deadly odds and rare luxuries aside, you wouldn’t change a thing. You found your own stability with Sam friggin’ Winchester by your side. Well, as stable as the life of a hunter can be.

The huntress knows how lucky she is to have Sam as her boyfriend. Partner? Boyfriend.

Sam is nothing short of amazing. He’s considerate, empathetic, handsome and loving. He’s everything Y/N has ever wished for in a partner. He’s home.

The thought of ever losing him makes her shudder in fear on a good day.

Today, that thought has her sobbing quietly on the bunker’s bathroom floor.

There are two pink lines, clear as day, on the pregnancy test and it feels as if they’re mocking her. She keeps trying to figure out when it could’ve happened– how it could’ve happened. They’d been careful, they’d used protection every single time they slept together. This shouldn’t have happened.

Yet, those two pink lines are still there.

The test in her hands is the last of four. Y/N had grown more desperate and scared with every ‘positive’ result she received. One of the tests even said she was about two weeks along. Said test now lies in pieces around her.

“What am I gonna do?” she laments to the bathroom walls.

Sam and her had talked about the future, of course. They were bound to do so after years together. They’d talked about the possibility of getting ‘married’, of having children, of what their lives could look like years from now.

The baby part wasn’t supposed to come this soon.

Y/N takes a shaky breath, collecting the pregnancy tests and wiping away her tears. She can’t lose Sam. She’s not ready. She doesn’t know what to do, but she has time. She has time to figure out how, when and what to tell him. She has time to decide if she’ll keep it. She has time. She can do this. Her life can still be okay.

She’ll figure this out.

After getting rid of the tests, Y/N proceeds to act like nothing happened. She can’t deal with the news at the moment, much less deal with Sam, Dean or even Cas interrogating her if they notice something off.

That night, when her and Sam go to bed, she hugs him a little more tightly than usual, murmuring she loves him into his skin and basking in the warmth in her chest when Sam says it back.

A day turns into two, then into three, and by the times she notices, she has reached her seventh week pregnant.

That’s when the famous pregnancy sickness began. She’d wake up, whether it was the middle of the night or early in the morning and rush as quietly as possible to the toilet. By some sort of miracle, none of the guys had asked or commented anything in all this time.

And she is in the middle of a very nice and quiet sleep when Sam enters their room.

“Hey, honey,” he calls to her softly. “Wake up. We found a case in St. Louis.”

Y/N groans. “What is it?”

“Simple salt’n burn, we’ll be back in no time.”

Knowing their luck, she doesn’t believe him, but Y/N simply groans in feigned frustration and gets up. They’re out of the bunker in the next thirty minutes.

The case is indeed a salt’n burn, but with her sickness seemingly getting worse by the day, she barely is of any help. By the time they’ve identified whose ghost was tormenting those teenagers, Sam is glued to her side, worried sick over what might have caused her to be in this state.

“Do you think you can explain it to me?” he pleads. “Maybe it was something you ate. Or maybe it was something else. Maybe we should go see a doctor–”

“No!” Y/N croaks hastily. Her throat is still wrecked from the amount of vomit she just threw in the motel room’s toilet. “No doctor. I’m okay. It’ll pass.”

“Y/N, you’ve been vomiting for days now. You get up in the middle of the night and I can hear you gagging on your way out,” Sam argues. “Or how about the way you flat out refused to eat Dean’s pancakes the other day? You acted as if they were disgusting and they’re your favorite!”

“Sam, I promise you, I’m okay.”

“But you’re not! Please. What is it? You need medicine. Let me help you.”

It’s the look in his eyes as he speaks that breaks her. In all of their time together, Y/N can recall several arguments, fights, sad and happy moments between them. There had been a few close calls, even, but Sam has never looked at her this scared, like he’s losing her and he’s trying to hold on.

It’s only hit her now. He’s as scared of losing her as she is of losing him.

It’s frustrating how much she has been crying ever since she had learned she was pregnant. And it seems like she’s going to cry even more, judging by the knot forming around her throat.

Her hands shake slightly, but she manages to get a firm grip of Sam’s hands.

With a deep breath, Y/N looks him in the eye. “What I have can’t be cured by a visit to the doctor, Sam. Not now, at least.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It means that I– I discovered something. I should’ve told you sooner. I shouldn’t have waited this long but,” she clears her throat. “ah, fuck. I’m pregnant, Sam.”

For the first time since she’s met him, Y/N can’t tell what Sam is thinking. He squishes her hands tightly, looking at her like she’s dropped a something on him, but he doesn’t know quite yet what it is. A silence between them stretches. The longer it becomes, the more scared she gets.

“I’m sorry,” she tries to get closer to him. He lets her, seemingly frozen, still staring at Y/N. “I’ve known for weeks now, I’m sorry. I love you. I just– I don’t know if I’m ready. I don’t know if we are ready and I wanted to make up my mind before telling you.”

“Stop,” he mumbles, leaning away and looking at her like she might not be real. “You– fuck, you shouldn’t have been doing this alone. I– Y/N, you– I should’ve– damn it.”

Sam closes the space between them, kissing her with all his might. Y/N’s knees grow weak at just how much love he pours into the kiss. His arms snake around her waist, then he’s cupping her face and Y/N’s own hands hold on tightly to his clothes, needing him close, not wanting to let him go.

When the kiss breaks, they’re both left panting, but the only one with tears in his eyes is Sam.

“Do you want it?” he asks.

Y/N opens her mouth right away to say yes, but she stops. She can’t say it.

“I don’t know,” is what she ends up answering. “I don’t know if you’d want it. If we can even do it. If we're ready. We said ‘maybe one day’, we didn’t say ‘now’.”

Sam nods along, considering every word, before leaning down to press his forehead against her own.

“I want to be with you,” is his answer. “With kids, without kids, in a year, in ten, in fifty. And if– I’m on your side. I’m right here. I love you so fucking much.”

“But do you want to be a dad now, Sam?”

“As long as you are their mom and as long as you’re with me, yes,” he says immediately. “Whatever you decide, I’m all in. We’ll figure it out, just like we always have.”

Y/N can’t take it anymore. She pulls him into another kiss, smiling softly into Sam’s lips and her heart is beating a mile a minute, it feels like it might burst out of her heart. Sam will be here. Sam loves her. And now she feels silly for ever thinking she would lose him.

The feeling grows so big, she giggles against his lips. Sam breaks the kiss to look at her with questioning, yet loving eyes.

“Sam,” she smiles, her eyes shine with fear and love and it’s the strangest mix Sam has ever seen butit mesmerizes him. “We’re going to be parents.”

“Yeah,” he laughs. “I think we are.”

The rest of their day is spent in each other’s arms, with loving words and excited plans for the little Winchester who’s yet to come. And when Dean comes back from torching the remains of the ghost, he almost passes out with excitement at the news.

For the first time since she found out she was pregnant, Y/N is genuinely excited at the possibilities of their new normal. She's excited to meet her kid. She's excited to do so with Sam by her side. As long as she can hold his hand, they will be alright; her, Sam and their little peanut.

To the lovely anon who sent this request, I hope you liked it. Thank you for your request <3

I'm not gonna tag anybody for this fic because I don't have a Forevers or Sam Winchester tag list. If you're interested in being tagged tho, please let me know.

As always, my requests are open :D

#sam winchester #sam x y/n #sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester x you #sam winchester x y/n #Sam Winchester fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural fanfic #supernatural fanfiction #Sam Winchester fluff

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thebloggerbloggerfun · 4 years

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Based on something @wanderingcas and I briefly chatted about in the only tumblr group chat I lasted longer than a day in

In Castiel’s defense, he’d been in the middle of telling Dean that he probably shouldn’t touch the glowing metal object that had fallen out of a crammed closet in a less-explored room in the bunker when he’d gone ahead and done it anyway.

“Ha, it’s one of those old ear-trumpet things.” Dean said, picking it up and holding it to his ear.

“- and glowing is rarely a good sign.” Castiel finished, but not before the trumpet flashed even brighter, and then stopped glowing altogether.

Dean pulled it away from his ear and frowned at it.

“Are you... alright?” Castiel asked, but there didn’t seem to be any outward signs of any harm done to him.

Dean said nothing, but his frown deepened as he glanced around, squinting enough that Castiel could tell something wasn’t quite right.

“Dean?”

“Uh, I think -” Dean stopped abruptly and blinked. “Hello? Hello?”

Castiel stepped forward in concern, snatching the object out of Dean’s hands before it could do any more harm and he could almost feel the curse oozing off of it.

“I’m still here, Dean. What’s wrong?”

“I can’t -” Dean started tapping at his own ears, then patting them, “I can’t hear anything!”

Dean looked up at Castiel, a panicked tone in his voice and written on every line of his face and Castiel bit back the retort about how if he’d only waited just a few seconds -

“It’s alright,” Castiel said, slowly, methodically, so that Dean would be able to read his lips. “Don’t panic. The curse doesn’t feel strong.”

“Oh, fuck me - I really can’t hear!” Dean said again, and definitely panicking.

Castiel waved his hands in front of Dean’s face until he received his full and undivided attention, and mimed deep breaths until Dean followed suit, eyes still wide, but no longer frantic.

“You’re okay,” Castiel said, holding up his hand in the universal ‘OK’ symbol, “We can fix this. I don’t think it’s permanent.”

Dean swallowed and nodded, running a hand through his hair with a shaky sigh.

“Dammit, I shouldn’t have touched that stupid thing.”

“That’s what I said.” Castiel muttered.

“What?” Dean said.

Castiel waved a hand dismissively.

“Nothing. We’ll talk to Sam when he gets home and see if we can do any research on it. It was cursed, but it didn’t feel like it was a dangerous one.”

Dean stared at him and blinked once.

“What?”

Castiel gave him a thumbs-up.

Sam tapped on the page of the book and flipped it around for Castiel to clearly see a picture of a sketched ear-trumpet.

“Yep - it’s in their inventory. Apparently it was designed as a last resort for battling against oceanic sirens, but it looks like they never needed it.” Sam shrugged his shoulders and glanced over at Dean, who was snapping his fingers in front of his ears and looking increasingly more frustrated with the results. “It’s just for seventy-two hours. He’ll be fine on Friday.”

“What?” Dean said from across the table.

Castiel pushed the book towards him and tapped on the sentence that included “seventy-two hours” in it.

“Goddammit.” Dean said, shoving the book back angrily in Castiel’s direction. “What the hell am I supposed to do until then, huh? Lock myself in my room and live like a hermit?”

“Plenty of people live without their hearing, Dean.” Castiel said, folding his arms against his chest. “And it’s just for three days. You’ll do just fine if you don’t make this into a bigger deal than it is.”

Dean frowned.

“What?”

By Wednesday, Castiel had heard Dean list all of the things that he couldn’t do without his hearing at least fifteen times.

“And I can’t even listen to Led Zepplin! Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve gone this long without listening to Zep? Since the womb, Cas. The womb.” Dean rambled as he leaned over the engine of the Impala.

Castiel flipped a page in the mystery novel he was skimming in the corner of the garage and nodded.

“A true tragedy.” Castiel said.

“What?”

Castiel let out a long breath, stood up and walked over to Dean, and pointed at his lips.

Dean jumped as he turned to reach for an oily rag.

“Jesus - I can’t go through this again, Cas. You don’t even have your wings and it’s happening again you sneaky motherfu -”

“Can. You. Read. My. Lips.” Castiel said, slowly and methodically.

Dean’s eyes flicked down to Castiel’s lips, then immediately flicked away as Dean quickly turned around to face the car’s engine again.

“Nope. That’s not gonna work.”

Castiel frowned, but he supposed it would be a lot of work to have to stare so intently at his lips as he tried to decipher what shapes his mouth was forming.

“Have it your way, then.” Castiel said, knowing he might as well be saying it to the Impala, and went back to his mystery novel.

Castiel sat himself down at the table in the kitchen as Dean stirred at something in a large skillet, whistling to himself off-key as he did so.

He had on Claire's birthday gift - an apron with “Culinary Badass” written in bold lettering on the front - and was swinging his hips from side to side as his whistling turned into humming.

Castiel smiled fondly as he watched, falling into the pit of endearment that he often found himself at the bottom of. He wiped the smile from his face before letting it tug at the corners of his lips again - the smile was safe as long as Dean wasn’t looking.

There were a lot of things that could be safe right now.

Dean was adorable.

And not listening.

“You’re adorable.” Castiel whispered, staring at the back of Dean’s head.

The humming continued with no reaction from Dean.

“You’re adorable.” Castiel repeated, louder this time - it felt good to say out loud. “Even when you’re being dramatic.”

Dean tapped on the oven with the spoon he’d been using to stir to add rhythm to his humming, not saying a word in response.

Castiel’s smile grew a little wider.

“Every day I hope I get to see you smile.” Castiel said after Dean handed him a beer and turned away.

“Your soul shines brighter than you can imagine.” Castiel said, his face hidden behind a load of laundry he was handing to Dean.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you in my life.” Castiel said as he climbed into the passenger’s side of the Impala to go on a grocery run with Dean.

“I love you.” Castiel said as the two of them watched a subtitled television show that Castiel had long since stopped paying attention to in Dean’s TV room. “I really do.”

Dean’s head slowly turned away from the television, and towards Castiel.

“What?”

Castiel just waved a hand.

Nothing. He mouthed, and shrugged his shoulders, hoping Dean would just let it go. He usually did now that explaining became a big situation.

“You... love me?”

A chill shot down Castiel’s spine as he tensed, and mentally counted the hours in his head - yes it was about seventy-two hours now. Had he not been paying close enough attention?

No, of course he hadn’t.

He’d been happily confessing things to Dean while there would be no consequences like a fool.

Castiel shouldn’t have let himself get comfortable in that.

“Y-you’re hearing -”

“...just came back, yeah.” Dean said slowly, hesitantly, like he was regretting the admission.

He was probably wishing he was still under the effects of the curse and Castiel didn’t blame him one iota.

“I’m - Dean I’m so sorry. I thought you were still - I didn’t - “

“Do you mean it?”

Castiel’s stuttering died in his throat as he stared back at Dean, eyes wide.

“I- I’m sorry if that makes you uncomfortable.” He whispered.

There was a long silence between them as they simply stared at each other, and the sound of the television still played in the background.

“This is The Good Place finale,” Dean said, pointing at the TV, “So, we have to finish watching it - but after that we’re gonna make-out, okay? Like a lot. And then probably talk about shit.”

Castiel blinked.

“What?”

Dean smiled in the special way that made Castiel’s heart stop.

“You heard me.”

#spn #destiel #destiel fanfic #destiel fanfiction #destiel ficlet #i should not have written this at 3AM #I will look at this tomorrow and cringe #but OH WELL #sometimes I write

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anika-ann · 3 years

Text

The 5 Times Steve Felt Betrayed - bonus

and the 1 Time He Felt Like He Was Betraying You

Type: mini-series to a series (part 1 & part 2 & part 3), Avenger!reader AU.

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader Word count: 3400

Summary: Steve might have abandoned you and his friends in Germany, but Steve Rogers does not give up on people. Do you?

Set shortly after the rescue from the Raft.

Warnings: mentions of violence and fights, mentions of the Raft, language...fluff

A/N: This part of Melting Hearts’ verse follows the events of CA: Civil War, sometimes only referencing them and kinda expecting the readers to know what’s up ;)

Posted in double chapters (1st & 2nd time, 3th & 4th, 5th+1... and the bonus, because my brain clearly doesn’t understand the concept of 5+1)

Previous part

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Seeking Shelter, Finding Home

Clint had been kind enough to replace Steve in the pilot seat – with a significant look sent your direction. You were sitting away from the others, watching your hands as if you couldn’t quite believe they belonged to you. Steve’s lips automatically press a thin line at the sight – you still looked so small as you had when he had found you in the cell.

Just the memory of The Raft made his stomach turn over. The prison was just inhumane – the way a power-restricting collar had been pinned around your neck, your hands trapped in a straitjacket just in case you would somehow manage to remove the collar. And then there had been the tiny thing in the straightjacket, ready to deliver an electric discharge if you would have left your cell despite all the barriers.

Sure, Wanda had been in the same… outfit, and it was sickening, but seeing you crumbled in the corner of the cell, tied and broken like that – it had made him unable to breathe in or out, his chest just too constricted. And knowing you had gone through all this because of him made it even worse.

Now, you were at least free of your cuffs, in a comfortable hoodie that was two sizes big for you, and yet you seemed absolutely lost.

He approached you hesitantly, his heart jumping to his throat and making it almost impossible for him to speak.

“Uhm… hey,” he greeted you softly and you immediately raised your head to him, a faint unsure smile appearing on your lips. Your absent eyes found his, missing its usual spark. He beckoned to the seat next to you. “May I?”

“Of course,” you whispered, apparently a bit baffled. Steve sure as hell didn’t like the resignation in your voice. “This is your jet.”

He shrugged, seating himself by your side. Your shoulder almost brushed his and it was as pleasant for him as unnerving. So close and yet too far.

“You helped me steal it.”

You eyed him timidly, fumbling with your fingers nervously. Heavy silence fell and for several moments; he just stared into your eyes, drinking in the feeling of being able to do that again. To look into your soul and see all the emotions playing in your head; until you lowered your gaze again, hiding from him.

He sighed, not knowing how to even start, not knowing how to talk to you; you had barely exchanged few words about Bucky’s whereabouts since the rescue from the prison and it had been… awkward, to put it mildly.

God, where should he start? He wanted to apologize. He wanted to ask million questions and most of all he just wanted to wrap his arms around you and hold you close, not saying a single word, because words only made things messy.

That was if someone bothered with forming them – or receiving them.

He gulped and pulled out the folded envelope. He would swear he could hear your heart skip a beat as you drew in a sharp breath.

“Uhm… I didn’t read it. I’m sorry. I… I was angry with you, disappointed. I thought… I thought you left me in a lurch and then you were just… trying to make it better with few words. And after, I didn’t want to… to waste any time. I wanted to find you, all of you, because I left you behind and I knew you suffered for it. And…” he took a deep breath, setting the letter aside, taking your restless fingers in his hands. You looked up at his face, your eyes wide and glassy. It made his throat even tighter. “And I was hoping you could just tell me what you wrote. That you could tell me everything.”

You pressed your lips together, blinking your tears away as you avoided his gaze once more. It was driving him insane, but he couldn’t say he blamed you.

“There’s not much to tell, Steve. I… I agreed with the Accords. With someone watching over us, maybe to be held responsible for--- but all I wanted was someone watching over me. Because I can do so much damage-“

He grimaced, a cold hand squeezing his guts as you stumbled over your words. Forever and always guilty. He underestimated sometimes how deeply your guilt ran.

“That’s not-“

“-and… I hated we couldn’t agree on that. But I never got myself to sign it. Didn’t really have the time and after what they did to Wanda – I couldn’t, it was just wrong. So wrong to hold her prisoner, throwing her under the bus. She made a mistake, yes, but we all did-- and… it wasn’t right. It was when I decided I couldn’t do it.”

“Why didn’t you come with Clint then?” he asked, confused. He was recognizing you now, the motivations you had had suddenly feeling much more like you than he would expect.

You smiled wryly.

“I couldn’t. It was… I figured that maybe at least I could make myself useful. I knew where that was heading. I had to stay with Tony to know their plan.”

Steve closed his eyes, exhaling shakily, your hands in his weighting a ton all of sudden. You had really been playing double agent. That had been such a stupid and reckless move. And kinda brilliant, but that was implied.

“God, Snowflake…”

You freed one of your hands to wipe the tears from your cheeks; Steve gripped your other hand tighter, so you wouldn’t get the idea of stopping touching him for a goddamn second.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry about the arrest too, but I saw what kind of a task force they sent after you, Steve. You would stand no chance, there was no way you could escape. The heavy guns, Rhodey, snipers, helicopters. It was-“

Steve’s eyes snapped open at the realization.

“You were trying to protect us,” he whispered incredulously.

Oh god. Had you gone completely insane? Had you lost your mind? Had you lost the last pieces of self-preservation somewhere along the way?

“I’m sorry. I know it wasn’t my call and I swear I was waiting until the last moment, I waited until I was sure that they would get you anyway. And I am— I’m so, so sorry for--- for-”

You hand was shaking in his, your voice cracked and you were now wiping the tears uselessly, because new ones were coming constantly. You weren’t able to finish the sentence, but Steve knew exactly what you were trying to say.

And it made him snap.

He threw away stupid ideas like approaching you carefully and wrapped his arms around your trembling form, cradling your face to his chest to hush you. He was taken aback when your weak fingers grabbed the edges of his leather jacket and you melted into him. He tightened his embrace.

“Hey, I know. It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m sorry you had to use your powers against me. I’m sorry,” he mumbled into your hair and you stiffened, you breath hitching.

“What?”

He caressed your back, his previous certainty wavering. “You hated it, didn’t you? You hated it so much, but you did it anyway, because you thought it was the only way to keep us from getting shot.”

You didn’t speak up, unable to find your voice, but Steve could feel your furious nods. He inhaled deeply through his nose, wishing he could just take the feeling tearing you apart away.

“You did the right thing.”

“Right things suck.”

Steve huffed out a surprised laugh and pressed a shameless kiss into your hair. “Yeah. Sometimes they do. But you did it anyway, which makes you the bravest person I’ve ever met.”

You stopped shaking by then, and you fumbled with his jacket this time. Your face was hidden in the crook of his neck, but Steve would swear your face felt hotter even when he couldn’t see your cheeks. It was a little piece of happiness for him in this huge mess and he couldn’t be more grateful for you being here with him – finally in his arms.

“Can I ask you something?”

He wanted to slap himself the moment you tensed in his arms again. You nodded stiffly anyway.

“After… after Nigeria. Why— why did you start going to Matt? What happened? Were you… were you disappointed in me?”

You retreated, escaping his embrace, and Steve scolded himself for being so stupid. Why had he poked you again? Words always made things messy…

It was only a little comfort that you were still holding onto his jacket. Your baffled face confused the hell out of him – but at least you didn’t seem angry.

“Why would I be disappointed? What… what?”

“Uhm… well… because I froze. I didn’t handle the situation-“

“Jesus, Steve,” you choked out, shaking your head, your eyes finally finding his willingly. The look in them warmed Steve’s heart even when he wasn’t sure what exactly it was supposed to mean. “Is that what you think? That I was… disappointed that you didn’t perfectly keep your cool when Rumlow mentioned Bucky? Did you think I was… thinking any less of you? Judging you? Oh god, Steve. How could I?”

The sincerity of your voice struck him straight in his gut and he was honestly feeling like an idiot in an instant. Of course you hadn’t judged him. You weren’t one to judge people – you hadn’t said a word against Wanda after she had messed up. The only person you ever had been hard on was yourself. How could he have believed anything else even for a second?

Jealously, whispered the intrusive voice in the back of his mind and he shushed it angrily – mostly because it spoke the truth.

“But… why did you go to— uhm, to Matt then?”

You arched an eyebrow inconspicuously and Steve felt a blush creeping up his neck. Yeah, he had been jealous and wounded at the time and it was stupid, okay?

“Because I needed a lawyer,” you explained hesitantly and it was Steve’s turn to be perfectly shocked. Again. What? “A good one. A smart one. An outsider too, at least to certain extent. I wanted to ask him about the possible consequences of the Avengers messing up. I wanted to know his opinion and I didn’t want to ask him over a phone. He predicted the Accords with scary precision, by the way. And he said hi on several occasions, but I never got the nerve to actually deliver the greetings, because I was afraid you would pry why I was going out.”

Steve’s jaw went slack, his eyes widening in awe. That— that was pretty much the only thing he hadn’t seen coming. Shit. You-- you were incredible. You had been thinking ahead. So much. You had been afraid of the consequences so you had gone to a lawyer to be prepared.

Yes, you had sought out the one friend, who had happened to find too much liking in you, but… while he and Wanda had been figuring out their guilt – and Steve was still sure you had taken some of the blame too in your head – you had sprung into action. And his ego had been too wounded to see it.

He tilted his head back, pleading heavens to give him strength.

“Oh god, I am such an idiot…”

“No, you’re not,” you protested immediately, finding his hand to cover it with yours. Oh, how quickly your roles reversed, you soothing him now.

He looked at you, still not quite believing you had done all that. His eyes scanned your form, your face still damp from the tears you had shed, your eyes red-rimmed from crying, dark bruising under. But regaining at least a little of your confidence, you had grown right in front of his eyes. You were incredible. How had he ever doubted that? How had he ever deserved you?

“Really? Because I was being jealous instead of asking what was the visit about, my ego was hurting and I was hurting, and I was too blinded by my petty feeling of betrayal to see what you were doing. And then I honestly thought you just left me – that all we had meant nothing to you all of sudden. I thought the worst of you and I was too damn proud to comply with the single wish you had. I didn’t even read your letter. Which part of that does not make me a complete idiot?”

You bit your lip, lowering your gaze to your joined your hands, caressing it softly. It made Steve’s heart grow in size – but it still didn’t make him less of a jackass, it actually made him feel worse at the same time, because it wasn’t your place to offer comfort to him, it was supposed to be the other way around.

“The part in which feelings aren’t petty and make us human,” you whispered hoarsely, a tiny spark appearing in your eyes, disappearing all too fast. “I wanted to drop it all – the moment you looked at me when I-- when I froze you and the… the look in your eyes at the airport. It was the worst part of it all. You thinking… thinking that I’m a scum.”

Steve had never shaken his head so abruptly as the moment you called yourself a scum. His hand slipped from under yours, only to frame your face with his palms, making you look into his eyes. He was the one feeling like a scum at the moment, because… you hadn’t been that far from the truth and he didn’t think he had ever felt so ashamed for his previous thoughts like at this very moment.

“No. Hey, look at me. You— I was-- I wasn’t thinking straight. I was hurt and felt betrayed and I was disappointed, yes, but never ever-” he emphasized, staring into your eyes as if there was nothing more important in this world. And it wasn’t. “-have I thought you were--- that. And I’m sorry that I doubted you for even a moment.”

Your eyes turned glassy again under his intense stare, so many emotions written in it. You couldn’t bear it, you wanted to look away, but he wouldn’t let you, holding your gaze.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated firmly and you finally managed to close your eyes to escape.

It was when he did one of the boldest moves ever. Without a single hint of permission, after your relationship had suffered an enormous hit and with him not having a clue how you felt about him now, he pressed his lips firmly to yours, stealing your breath away.

He didn’t know what he had expected, but the hesitant response turning into an eager one within few seconds was not it. Your hands flew to his hair, interlacing in them and pulling him closer, your mouth opening for him almost immediately. He sighed at the unexpected sensation, a shiver of excitement running through his body. Your mouth was hot and wanting against his, one of your hands trailing down his chest; when it stopped above his navel, he found himself silently groaning in disappointment.

It was also when he realized where the hell you were and how much audience you had. His fingers twisted in your hair – god, he missed that – and he withdrew just slightly, setting a slower pace and putting some distance between you two. You seemed to get the memo, because you gently caressed his abdomen over the fabric of his t-shirt, separated from his lips and rested your forehead against his. You were both out of breath, panting.

Steve opened his eyes first, only to see your lips kiss-swollen and parted as you fought for a little air, your eyes still closed as if you were trying to regain some composure. His lizard brain whispered more and he listened, kissing you one more time; but at least wary of keeping the kiss socially acceptable this time. It was next to impossible to part again.

“I’m sorry,” you breathed out and Steve looked at you, once again confused.

“For?”

You licked your lips, the movement utterly and unfairly distracting. He retreated and your eyes snapped opened as you cleared your throat.

“I honestly don’t know where we go from here – and now I mean… like… the two of us, but… I’m sorry. They took all of our personal belongings,” you whispered, embarrassed and pissed off a bit.

Steve tilted his head to side, not following. Yeah, he knew that. Why were you pointing it out?

“…okay?”

“All of it. Including… including jewellery.”

“Oh,” he let out intelligently, his heart expanding in his chest with hope.

Really? Was it possible that-… really? Sure, the kiss you just shared was nothing sort of loving, you had cleared things out and maybe it should hint him, but…

“I mean... I know you're probably angry with me-“

“Would you still want it?” he breathed out, astonished. He was trying to fight the euphoria creeping into his voice, no doubt showing on his face, but he couldn’t help it. “After what happened? After I... thought you turned your back to me, after I left you behind even when knowing you actually didn't? After I became a criminal?”

“I am a criminal too, Steve. And… I told you to go. You didn’t want to, because you're not leaving people behind. And you came back. I… I love you. Of course I’d still want it.”

He felt his lips curl up in a smile that mirrored only a fraction of the surge of joy in his veins. You didn’t seem to follow why. The declaration alone would be enough to make him feel like this, but… well. At least the little delay in the rescue had been worth it.

“Why are you smiling like that?” you asked him warily, hesitant raise of the corners of your lips lighting up your face as well.

Steve reached into his pocket, drawing a thin chain with a ring out, holding it out between the two of you. You gasped in awe, watching the chain you had bought to protect your ring while fighting wide-eyed.

“How-?”

“When I asked the guard about it, he looked at me as if I was crazy. Maybe I am,” he explained with a shrug and you chuckled incredulously, biting your lip.

“May I... may I wear it?”

Steve had honestly no clue how you could be asking such a stupid question. He observed your features that seemed to come alive, finally back to your usual self – the sunshine in even the darkest place.

And that thought gave him a stop; he was in a pretty dark place at the moment and he didn’t think it would get any better any time soon.

“I… I’m in a terrible mess, Snowflake. I’m probably the most wanted criminal in the world now. Are you sure?”

You cleared your throat significantly. “Steve, allow me to remind you that I am a fugitive too. That’s the first thing. The second thing… you’ve done nothing wrong – the whole criminal thing is just a word, a label someone gave you. And the third thing… I know what I’m signing up for. I knew you were trouble – for a good cause – when I said yes the first time. I knew you were trouble long before I fell in love with you. So yeah, I’m pretty sure.”

“God, I love you so much,” Steve murmured before he could even think of anything else.

As he freed the ring so he could slip it back on your ring finger, you held out your trembling left hand for him. It wasn’t fear – it was excitement all over again. Too many emotions to contain. Steve felt the same. He was stunned, moved, and felt so incredibly loved and strong with you by his side that there weren’t any better words to say anyway.

He enclosed your hand in his when the ring was on place, bringing them to his lips only to plant a kiss over the thin metal. It made you smile like a madwoman.

From the corner of your eyes, you saw Sam Wilson fist-bump with Scott Lang. You hid your face in Steve’s chest with silent laugh.

You had no idea what the future held for you now – you could only guess that it wouldn’t be exactly pretty. But as long you were not about to face it alone, you were ready and determined to fight all the battles coming your way.

────── ·❆· ──────

S.R. masterlist

Hell Froze Over (next in the series)

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Thank you for reading!

Someone once told me that fluff is my default setting. They weren’t wrong. I know mini-series was a bit different and with shorter chapters, but hopeflly, you enjoyed nevertheless.

Sequel ahead, this one a longer one! Title’s Hell Froze Over... I can promise you a new enhanced on the scene, some fluff, some angst... the usual :-*

#fanfiction #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #captain america x reader #captain america x you #steve rogers imagine #captain america x imagine #steve rogers #captain america #mcu #marvel #avenger reader #melting hearts #5 times steve felt betrayed #anika ann

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lov3nerdstuff · 3 years

Text

Voluptas Noctis Aeternae {Part 7.14}

*Severus Snape x OC*

Summary: It is the year 1983 when the ordinary life of Robin Mitchell takes a drastic turn: she is accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Despite the struggles of being a muggle-born in Slytherin, she soon discovers her passion for Potions, and even manages the impossible: gaining the favor of Severus Snape. Throughout the years, Robin finds that the not quite so ordinary Potions Professor goes from being a brooding stranger to being more than she had ever deemed possible. An ally, a mentor, a friend... and eventually, the person she loves the most. Through adventure, prophecies and the little struggles of daily life in a castle full of mysteries, Robin chooses a path for herself, an unlikely friendship blossoms into something more, and two people abandoned by the world can finally find a home.

General warnings: professor x student, blood, violence, trauma, neglectful families, bullying, cursing

Words: 5.7k

Read Part 1.1 here! All Parts can be found on the Masterlist!

______________________________

The first few weeks of classes went by in a breeze. With potions and herbology out of the picture now, Robin had a lot of time to study for those four classes that she still had left to take, and she also got around to doing plenty of work on her own research on the side. The evenings however remained reserved for working in the lab or the office, for chatting and overall for spending time with Snape. Their work was either of a more experimental nature these days, or consisted of basic tasks imposed on them by the school. At the same time they tried to slowly work their way through the almost countless ingredients they had gathered over summer, experimenting with different modes of preservation and use.

During the day however, Robin soon found herself with an underwhelming amount of work to do, while Snape was obviously busy, as were her roommates, and she often found herself already bored by noon. Four classes… it wasn't a lot, even if she read ahead and did her assignments more thoroughly than anyone could expect of her. So she picked up an old habit and read up on random things in her freetime, whenever she had seen enough plants and dead animals on dusty book pages for a day. Whether it was books and articles on the dark arts, ministry decrees and political dealings, or something as pathetic as Cas' collection of glossy magazines… Robin read anything she could get her hands on.

Surprisingly enough, there had been no further issues with Morgan after the welcoming feast as of yet, and he merely gave Robin poor grades one day and the highest scores the next, as if he himself couldn't even make up his mind about what the situation between them was supposed to be like now. He did throw Robin the most bone chilling glances at times though, full of yearning and hatred and craze that even the other students commented on occasionally, but that was it. Honestly, Robin was glad about it and she knew that Snape was too. As long as Morgan stayed subtle in his insanity, they wouldn't bother with him either.

In the third week of term, Dumbledore had invited Robin to tea indeed, like he had announced before the holidays, and Robin had accepted for the sole purpose of finding out more about what the man was playing at. Of course it hadn't been that easy though, it never was, and she had left his office no wiser in the end, and with more questions than she'd started out with. The headmaster truly was ineffable by default, a mystery she just wasn't able to solve and that grew more complicated the longer she pried. But it had been painfully obvious to her at least that he knew something he was keeping from her on purpose, something that wasn't as simple as a reason for ignoring the assault on a student. However she had quickly come to realise that if she called out Dumbledore for protecting Morgan, she would cut into her own flesh, seeing as he was protecting her 'ties' with Snape just the same. In a way, Robin had admired Dumbledore for getting her caught up far enough in his system of liabilities that she wasn't in a position any longer to call him out for his wrongs. She had become a threat to him somehow, or an unpredictable factor in his game at least, and he had easily put her on a leash to keep her under control. It was a brilliant move, to her disadvantage admittedly, but brilliant no less.

One good outcome of having tea with the headmaster was that Robin had been asked to occasionally assist the professors in a few of the more practical classes for the lower years, such as herbology and care of magical creatures, but not potions however, which Robin had taken immediate notice of and was honestly glad about. She couldn't imagine working with Snape as anything but equals at this point, and it probably wouldn't be the best idea to showcase just how close they were in their friendship in front of a class full of his students. But assisting the other professors from time to time when they needed a hand would certainly take some access time off her hands and perhaps prevent her from going through Cas' collection of YA novels next, and that definitely was a gain more than a loss. Maybe she could mention it in her CV at the end of the year, when she would be done with school and left to find a job to pay for a living. Gods, she had no idea what she would do then… she didn't even know what kind of job she could do at this point. But she still had a few months to figure that out after all, and for the moment, she preferred to remain in blissful ignorance of the more distant future.

… … …

Before long it was the middle of October, or more precisely, the nineteenth thereof. A day prior to Robin's birthday, and in remembrance of the last one, she actually found herself excited for it this year. Not because of presents she might or might not receive, she honestly still didn't care about that all too much, but mostly because she'd actually had such a lovely day last year, and she hoped that she would have an even better one this time around. Actually she was quite sure that she would, because for the first time in all her years at this school she wouldn't have Morgan's class on her birthday, which in itself was already a huge improvement to any other year before.

For days on end, however, Jorien and Cas had pleaded Robin to celebrate into her birthday together, if celebrating even was the appropriate word for spending the evening in their room together doing whatever it was the two girls were thinking of, and after days of hearing their begging, Robin had finally agreed on a compromise. That's why in the evening of the nineteenth, Robin found herself in a sudden hurry upon catching a glimpse at her watch at half past ten at night, and she finished her coffee in one big gulp in return.

"Are you alright?" Snape quirked an eyebrow at her in question, obviously startled by her sudden jump into action after hours of calmly sitting across from him with her legs crossed on the chair.

"No, I'm late!" She sighed in return and gave him an almost sad half smile. "I told you I promised the girls to spend the latter half of the evening with them for once, didn't I?"

"Right… I merely hadn't realised that it was quite so late already."

"I feel like I should be more excited for this evening than I am. After letting them pierce my ears last year, I'm honestly not sure what they will try to do to me this time, and I'm not all too eager to find out. Especially since they insist on staying up until after midnight."

"Most likely they simply want to spend the evening with you because they care. But you obviously believe that whatever they have planned won't be all too enjoyable for you."

"Would you like to spend an evening with two overly excited fourteen year olds who have been planning this evening for weeks?!" She asked with humour in her voice. She liked the girls, very much so… and she was happy that they cared about her enough to want to spend this evening together. But she also knew how overbearing they could be in situations like this, and how they had a very much different idea of 'fun' than she did herself.

"Actually, I would rather drink poison." Snape replied in absolute neutrality, and only when Robin let out a snort he allowed himself to smirk as well. "Good luck. You have my utmost sympathy."

"Thanks…" She groaned under her breath in exaggeration, then smiled and finally made for the door. "See you tomorrow morning?"

"Obviously. Have a good night despite their efforts, yes?"

"I'll try. However if I don't show up for breakfast tomorrow, you should start being concerned." She turned around to him once more, and a part of her wished she didn't have to go. "Have a good night yourself. Perhaps you could use the opportunity to actually go to bed before 3 in the morning, it might do you good to get some rest after that almost-explosion in class you mentioned."

Snape rolled his eyes exaggeratedly, making Robin smirk as she forced herself to leave the office at last. While she made her way down the hallway towards the dorms, she tried to recall when she'd last parted from him this early. She couldn't actually remember; usually it was way after midnight when they decided to call it a night. Returning to her room this early now just felt oddly wrong. But on the other side, the closer she got to her inevitable fate of whatever sleepover scenario the girls had planned, the more she actually felt happy at the prospect of spending some time with them. Whatever immature things they were going to force her into, she promised herself to try enjoying it at least. Who knew… perhaps they would surprise her.

The very moment she entered her room, she was already welcomed by the smell of tea and chocolate cake, mingling with the always lovely fragrance of a burning fire in the oven in the middle of the room. So far so good! While both girls immediately started complaining that Robin was two minutes late, she moved to drop her bag by her bed, then undid her robes and finally flopped down on her bed and caught a pause in their rambling to bring out her own apology. Her sincerely apologetic expression along with it obviously appeased the girls quickly enough, and they moved on without dwelling on her miniscule delay. Both of them were in their pajamas already, but they didn't give Robin an opportunity to change into hers as they ushered her onto the only empty bed and already pressed a plate of cake and a teacup into her hands, then sat down with her to enjoy their own. Admittedly, tea and cake in the middle of the night was as normal to Robin as reading before bedtime was to others, and thus she enjoyed the start to their little celebration more than she had anticipated. They chatted about nothing particularly important, mostly about the remarkable mishap of a student in their potions class that day, which Robin had already heard about from the other perspective. Getting a full picture now however proved to be highly amusing to her, and together with the cake and tea, she actually felt quite comfortable in the situation. Happy, even. Perhaps she had underestimated the girls' taste in having fun… they weren't kids anymore, after all.

She stayed in that mindset until right after tea, when she realized that they weren't kids anymore indeed, but something far worse. Teenagers. Because as soon as her plate and cup were out of her hands, Cas supplied them all with some odd kind of facial mask, which she plastered thickly onto Robin's face before the latter could even put her hair up. It really was a messy endeavour; sticky, weird smelling, dripping onto her clothes and getting stuck in her hair, which perhaps was more due to Cas' less than expertly way of applying it to Robin's face than because of the substance itself. Meanwhile Jorien decided that it was absolutely necessary to paint Robin's nails, luckily deciding that Robin would probably prefer black over the glittery blue she herself wore, and thus got started on that while Cas was still busy smearing the mask onto every path of Robin's skin she could find. It was a living hell on earth in a way, but Robin just let the girls do and actually found herself so very amused by it that she actually had to try not to laugh out loud. It was such a cliche thing to do, such a stereotypical situation… but she would let them dress her up as much as they wanted tonight, for it was humouring either of them after all. Robin just happened to be amused by it in a different way than the girls.

For quite some time they continued their work on Robin, and finally also on each other in such a practiced manner that it left Robin guessing if they did this regularly. She never was around in the evenings after all, she had no clue what their nights looked like. Before long it was almost midnight, and Robin was sitting on the shared bed again after she had been allowed to wash off the mask as good as possible once the girls had been sure that her nails were dry enough for that by now.

"Say, do you ever miss your best friend these days?" Jorien asked Robin out of the blue, after previously discussing something entirely different. "You said you spent all summer together, so… you must be pretty close."

"Of course I do, I always miss him when he's not around." Robin replied with a small frown, probably sounding as surprised by the inquiry as she felt. "Why the odd question?"

"Oh, you know…" Cas shrugged in feigned indifference. "We were just wondering if we should keep trying to find you a date, or if perhaps you aren't interested in a relationship because you already ARE in a relationship."

Robin's jaw dropped for a second, then her brows furrowed to act over her rising embarrassment. "I can assure you that I'm not in any relationship other than entirely platonic ones, but I'm still not interested in you finding me a date."

"Well, you aren't getting any younger!"

Now Robin just straight out laughed at them. "Guys, I will be eighteen in five minutes, not eighty! You don't have to push me into any kind of relationship just for the sake of it, I'm not interested in that kind of thing."

"But you are interested in something else?" Jorien quirked an eyebrow at her, a smug expression on her face as if this entire conversation had been one big trap for Robin to fall into. And she most definitely just had, going by the grins on both girls' faces.

"Look, this really isn't-..." She tried, but was cut off immediately.

"Oh come on! You can't tell us that in eighteen years of being alive you've never had a crush on someone. Not even YOU despise people that much!" Cas argued, and Jorien nodded her approval to the statement. "This is a girls' night, which obviously is something you haven't done much before, alright, but let me assure you that we are supposed to talk about boys now!"

"I don't know any boys other than my classmates." Robin shrugged. "And they're all idiots not worth talking about."

"But what about your mysterious best friend, then? Tell us more about him. About your summer together."

"I already told you many of the stories of what we experienced in summer. I even told you about some of it twice!"

"Yeah, but you never spoke of what happened between you and him, only about the things that happened to the two of you."

"Nothing happened between us! Why do you even want to know about that? I'm sure you have plenty of stories about Simon to tell… And hasn't one of his friends been oddly nice to you lately, Jorien?" Robin tried to change the topic, feeling more discomfort in the current situation than she had while they had 'beautified' her. Not only was it already difficult as it is to keep her existing friendship with Snape a secret, but the girls' prodding about what exactly she felt for him just made it almost impossible to keep her feelings locked up. Perhaps they didn't understand that… couldn't know that having a crush was entirely different from truly and desperately loving someone. Hell, even that had to be different for everyone, love surely didn't work the same for all people. Either way, Robin didn't want to talk about it. Not with them, and not with anyone else.

"You always say you speak the truth no matter what… and you insist that you never break your promises. So tell us straight out that you're not crushing on anyone, and we'll leave you be." Cas argued back, entirely ignoring Robin's attempt at a change of conversational direction.

"I swear that I do not have a crush on anyone." Robin insisted seriously, locking gazes with both girls respectively. "And I would very much appreciate it if we could use the one minute left before my birthday to talk about something else now."

"Fine." Cas sighed sadly. "I believe you. Too bad though, crushes are fun. I honestly don't understand why nobody ever asks you out, you're amazing."

"Change of topic, idiot!" Jorien hissed at her friend and nudged her in the side. "It won't do to make her feel unloved!"

"Oh, I feel very loved. You painted my nails and smeared goo on my face, what more could I want?" Robin gave them a teasing half smile, and the girls couldn't help giggling in return. "And I really appreciate the efforts you made to make this evening a small celebration. Thank you."

"Oh, but it's not even over yet!" Cas grinned, and scrambled off the bed, almost tripping over the way too long tracksuit bottoms she had probably borrowed (or stolen) from Simon. Poor boy… Cas really was a handful, but as far as Robin could tell, he really did like her a lot, and he was absolutely lovely to her. The thought made her smile, just when Cas jumped back onto the bed with a surprisingly large box.

Just in time, the clock hit midnight and both Cas and Jorien started singing a desperately off-key but very much heartfelt happy birthday, which made Robin smile even more. Yeah, she did feel loved indeed.

"Happy birthday, you old person!" Cas practically squealed at her, then dropped the box on the bed and wrapped Robin into a tight hug to which Jorien followed, and both girls together squeezed all air out of Robin's lungs, which she happily let happen.

"Happy birthday Robin." Jorien added in barely audible words that were muffled by Robin's blouse.

"Thank you guys. You really got me to start liking birthdays." She smiled, then frowned a little as the two still wouldn't let go of her. "You're not trying to suffocate me, are you? I'd like to make it to nineteen as well."

"Oh, sorry." Cas said, and both finally let go of Robin to sit back down in front of her. "It's just… this is your last birthday we're celebrating together like this. And we want you to remember it in the future."

"I most definitely will, don't worry."

"Good! But to help you with that nonetheless, we got you a different gift this year. Not jewelry for once." Jorien explained, while she handed Robin the large box in an almost festive gesture. "So you will remember us."

Robin already felt sad before she opened the box. It was true, this was her last birthday they would celebrate together. Or was it? "Just because it's my last year doesn't mean we won't see each other again afterwards, you know that, right?" She asked even before she opened the box. This was supposed to be a cheerful occasion, not one filled with sadness about a future that wasn't as depressing as they likely made it out to be in their heads. "Perhaps we can't celebrate my birthday for a while, but you won't be in school forever either. And there's no rule saying that I can't come and visit you guys on Hogsmeade weekends."

"That's true…" Cas sighed, and her smile quickly lost the sadness to it. "But right now you're still here in the first place, and you're the birthday girl. So open the present already!"

Rolling her eyes for show, Robin still obliged and took a peek first before opening the lid entirely at last. Inside, underneath a layer of colourful paper, lay a beautiful wooden picture frame that held a moving photograph of her little group of people. Jorien, Cas, Simon, his two friends who Robin had actually almost grown somewhat fond of at this point, and also Robin herself right in the middle. They were all seated in the great hall on both sides of the table, smiling into the camera.

"I remember this…" Robin heard herself saying in astonishment. "A classmate of theirs… what was her name again…"

"Patricia." Cas was quick to reply, and Robin's smile widened.

"Right… She asked if she could take a picture of us because we looked so happy. That was just recently, in the second week of term, wasn't it?"

"Yep. It actually was Simon's idea to give this to you as a gift." Cas went on to explain. "He got Patricia to make a copy of it for him, and Jorien and I got the frame."

"Thank you, honestly, this is… wow."

"We actually managed to leave you short for words for once, hell yeah!" Cas laughed, giving Jorien a high-five. "It's probably not the most extraordinary present, but-..."

"It's perfect." Robin was quick to interrupt. "There hardly are any pictures of me as an adult, other than those in the paper, and none at all of my friends. Nobody ever bothered taking a picture with me, least of all frame one with me in it, and I honestly love it more than anything else you could've given to me."

"You're most welcome." Jorien replied with a smile. "But a third of the effort was Simon's, don't forget that."

"I'll thank him too, first thing tomorrow morning. But now we should probably call it a night, it's gonna be a long Friday for you guys and I don't want you to lose any more sleep over me."

"Yes, mom." Jorien rolled her eyes with a snort. "Morning's gonna come no matter when we go to bed, you know. But Morgan's announced a test for tomorrow, so we probably should go to bed indeed."

"Great!" Cas clapped her hands, grinning. "Now that we're talking about tomorrow morning, or rather… today's morning anyway, I have something fun to tell you guys!"

"There's something fun you haven't told me about yet?!" Jorien fake-protested with a glare at Cas, while Robin moved off the shared bed and back towards her own, where she placed the picture frame on her nightstand.

"Chill, I was gonna wait for you to see it yourself, but it's just too funny not to tell you." Cas giggled to herself, and Robin frowned when she sat back down with the girls. When Cas found something funny it was usually at the expense of others, and that always should make one weary at least.

"Out with it now!" Jorien nudged her friend in the side to stop her from giggling, while Cas almost rolled off the bed just laughing to herself. "C'mon, don't do this to us!"

"Yes, fine…" Cas sighed, as she tried to regain some composure. "So you know how Parker is friends with Dave, and Dave is Martin's friend, and Martin is friends with Gideon."

"Get to the bloody point already!" Jorien groaned, and the only thing Robin had understood was Gideon's name, who was one of Simon's friends. The one who didn't fancy Jorien; that one was Michael.

"I was about to!" Cas rolled her eyes. "Anyway, Simon told me that Parker and his friends are setting up this practical joke for tomorrow morning, and it's going to be absolutely hilarious!"

"What's it about?"

"They will put salt into the tea and coffee for the head table, and charm it so that people will only taste it two seconds after drinking it!" Cas was back to giggling to herself. "Just imagine, all the professors spitting out their drinks!"

"That's horrible!" Robin replied instinctively.

"That's hilarious!" Jorien laughed at the same time, and all three girls looked at each other for a moment of hesitation.

"I think it's going to be bloody hilarious indeed." Cas finally sighed, and made her way over to her own bed at last. "Our entire class could need the laugh before Morgan's stupid test, and I think he's set one for the sixth year NEWT class for the afternoon, too. But Simon isn't taking defense classes anymore, so I don't particularly care."

"Yeah… it's gonna be great." Jorien smiled and made for her bed as well. "Especially since nobody can hold us accountable for it."

Robin stayed sitting on the empty bed for a moment longer and didn't say anything at all. Practical jokes weren't her thing in general, but this one just seemed absolutely childish and unnecessary. Sure, it wouldn't do any harm either, but still… knowing about it now left her in a position she didn't want to be in. She could tell Snape about it and prevent him from getting pranked, but on the flipside that meant she would betray the girls, in a way. And it would be painfully obvious that she had been the one talking, at least to Jorien and Cas and Simon. For a moment, Robin felt angry with Cas for putting her into this situation in the first place. Then again, the girl hadn't meant any harm, and probably only wanted to share something she thought would humour her friends. But geez, couldn't they have done this any other day?! This kind of predicament wasn't such a great start to her birthday…

"Robin? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, just… thinking." She replied evasively and finally snapped out of her head, only to see the girls already all settled into their beds. "I think I'll take a shower before going to sleep, some of that goo is still stuck in my hair. I'll be quiet when I come back, as always. Don't wait up for me."

"Alright." Cas sighed softly, and even as Robin got up and made her way to her own bed, she could see the girl smiling. "You're gonna have an awesome birthday, Robin. Don't worry."

Robin returned a quiet hum, not wanting to lie nor to spoil their enjoyment of this complot, and then she quickly gathered her things to make for the showers. Once alone in the dark bathrooms, she first tried to scrub the goo out of her blouse so that she could wear it again tomorrow without any pinkish stains, and once that was accomplished half manually and half magically, she finally went to scrub the goo off herself under the steady stream of hot water in the shower. Really, as soothing as the water was, as soothing as the night was, she still felt torn about the situation with the practical joke. Why, just WHY did that one piece of information have to put an otherwise very entertaining night on the line like that?! If she was honest with herself, Robin knew what she was going to do. But she still felt bad about it nonetheless. Then again, she shouldn't! It was her birthday and besides that she was very much in the right to spare her best friend from whatever kind of agony he was facing unknowingly. Telling him was the right thing to do.

Once she was cleaned up and dry again, she put on her pajamas and twisted her still wet hair up into a bun to fix it with her wand like she did so often by now. Then she grabbed her things and was on her way back to her room, still in full determination that she would find Snape before breakfast tomorrow and warn him of the impending doom at the head table. But after she had silently stored away all her items and taken a seat on her bed, that plan of action was shaken with a start.

"Robin?" Jorien's whisper carried over to her so very quietly that she barely even heard it in the first place.

"Huh?"

"Can… can we talk? While Cas is sleeping."

"Yeah, of course." Robin was quick to reply, frowning to herself however as she motioned to the door before stepping out into the hallway herself, with Jorien following two seconds later. Only once the door was closed entirely, the girl came straight to the point.

"I don't want that prank to be played, Robin…" She said in a quiet voice for they still could be overheard, especially out in the dorm hallway at one o'clock at night. "And I know you don't either."

"You seemed to be quite fond of the idea just an hour ago…"

"I certainly don't need to tell you out of all people what an act is." Jorien rolled her eyes, but the almost pleading expression still remained predominant on her face. "Sometimes getting along with people just requires adaption, and if it's not gonna be sincere, then an act will still do."

"Consider me impressed in that case." Robin raised her eyebrows at the girl in surprise for a moment, then came back to the problem at hand. "But why do you tell me this?"

"I know there is some weird understanding between you and Professor Snape… and I'm fairly sure you will want to warn him in advance, probably tomorrow morning. You see, I would like to spare Professor McGonagall the unpleasant experience, too, if I can… I really like her."

"Right… I remember that." Robin sighed under her breath, and then was back to frowning to herself. "And yes, I'm going to tell Snape about it tomorrow morning. Would you like me to tell McGonagall as well? I'm sure I can find her before breakfast."

"See, there exactly is the issue. You can't tell anyone before breakfast tomorrow."

"You can't talk me out of it, I-..."

"I'm not trying to talk you out of it, Robin! I'm trying to tell you that you literally will not be able to talk to Snape before breakfast tomorrow, because there's this plan that Cas and Simon and I have made, because of your birthday, and we will be around you at all times before the meal. You understand what I mean?"

"You mean I won't have an opportunity to tell him without Cas and Simon knowing what I did."

"Precisely." Jorien nodded, then sighed. "I know you can do things like this… And you've done things like this before…"

"Out with it."

"You have to stop that prank. Please… I know you can do impossible things, and I know you have way more to say in this place than anyone else I know."

"I don't have anything to say around here, Jorien. I wish I did, and I wish I could just call that Parker kid out without any evidence, but if I'll be caught up in you guys' scheme from my waking point tomorrow, I don't see how I could prevent it from happening without putting a serious strain on my relationship with Cas, and on hers with Simon."

"I know it's complicated… But that's why I need you to take care of it!" Jorien almost looked like she might start crying any moment now, and honestly Robin found herself surprised by how much the girl seemed to care about her favourite professor. It wasn't something she had seen in anyone but herself before now. "Please, Robin… I know it's silly to be so upset about it, but I know that letting it happen would make you as unhappy as it makes me. That's why I told you that we have these plans for the time before breakfast. Maybe play surprised at least when we tell you about it again tomorrow morning."

"Of course…" Robin nodded, then sighed, and her mind was already working on a solution. "I'll do what I can to stop the prank, okay?"

"Yes! Thank you!" Jorien let out a long breath in obvious relief, then tired a half smile. "I mean, at least you can be sure that Snape is still up at this time of night, huh? You usually return from your work with him way later than this."

"Yeah…" Robin replied absentmindedly, tracing the scar on her neck with her fingers as she frowned ahead at the hallway. Perhaps it really wasn't the worst idea to find Snape now and save him from the joke at least, if she already couldn't stop the entire thing; Jorien was right when she said that one o'clock at night was still early for them. He certainly wouldn't mind another brief visit from her even at this time, especially if it was to his own advantage. And if Robin bargained correctly, she could get him to warn McGonagall in the morning indeed, which would keep her ends with Jorien sealed. It wasn't even such a big deal now that she thought about it, and a decent solution to the problem. Why hadn't she thought about that right from the start?

"Earth to Robin!" Jorien said in that moment, drawing Robin out of her freeze even at the quiet sound. "You're daydreaming again."

"Yeah, sorry. I was just thinking about why I was once again being weird and trying to make things more complicated than they are."

"It's just who you are. But it always ends in something great, so don't worry about it. I should probably go back to bed now though, if I don't want to give myself away entirely tomorrow. You won't tell Cas that I actually hate this stupid joke, will you?"

"Of course not. I promise."

"Thanks…" Jorien sighed, then opened the door and waited for Robin to go in first, which however she didn't.

"You go to bed, I'll deal with the prank." Robin whispered to her, giving her an encouraging smile. "Goodnight."

"Night… And Robin? I love that you're weird, and so does Cas. Don't ever change that."

______________________________

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waywardnerd67 · 4 years

Text

Fan Mail

Summary: Jensen has been penpals with a fan for his entire career. Now he wants to meet her to tell her his true feelings for her. He is in for a great surprise to find out who she truly is. Characters: Jensen Ackles, Reader Pairing: Jensen x Reader Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 1706 Prompt: “A fanatic is one who can't change his mind and won't change the subject.” -- Winston Churchill A/N: @spnfanficpond Unfic Challenge

(Y/N), I’m sitting in my trailer after wrapping for the last time on Supernatural and I really wish you were here with me. You’ve been my constant companion, my friend throughout all my career and it’s hard to believe we have never met. I want to fix that. I would like to invite you to the Supernatural wrap party in Vancouver. You don’t have to worry about any of the expenses because I will cover them for you. All you have to worry about is bringing you amazing, beautiful self here. I know it’s not a lot of notice which is why I am overnighting this letter to you. Below is my number, just send me a text with your answer. I really want to meet you, (Y/N). It would mean the world to me. Talk to you soon. -J

She reread the letter a few times leaning against the counter. (Y/N) quickly folded the letter and slipped it into her back pocket when the trailer door swung open. The deep, infectious laugh of Jared Padalecki filled the air bringing an instant smile to her face.

“(Y/N)! My favorite person in the whole world!” Jared wrapped his long arms around her and hugged her tight.

She started laughing as he let go of her and flopped down into a chair, “Jared I don’t know if anyone has told you but we wrapped a week ago. You’re supposed to be packing your apartment up to move back home. What are you doing in my chair?”

“My apartment is done and Jensen is sulking around his. I need some sunshine in my life and figured you might need some help packing up the trailer.” His hazel eyes looked around the trailer fondly staring at the wall of photos featuring different looks throughout the years.

(Y/N) smiled softly, “Well I could definitely use your height to get some of the boxes down from our overhead storage.,” she pointed up as he smiled back at her.

After a few hours, (Y/N) and Jared had the whole make-up trailer packed up. An overwhelming sadness tightened around her chest knowing this would be the last time she would ever be inside the trailer of her favorite show. As she turned to look to Jared, she watched in horror as his eyes were skimming a familiar piece of paper. She quickly slid her hand into her back pocket confirming he was indeed reading Jensen’s letter to her.

“Jared…” she said as he looked up at her with his mouth gaping open.

“You’re her! I knew it! I told Jensen it was you. What are the chances that two girls in his life would have the same name. I can’t believe it.” His excitement only made her panic more.

She stepped towards him with her shaking hand reaching for the letter, “Please Jared… just give me the letter.”

He held the letter above his head where she could not reach it, “You’re gonna tell him, right? (Y/N), tell me you’re going to tell him.”

She shook her head, “I-I can’t…”

“(Y/N), you have to tell him. He is moping around his apartment because the wrap party is tomorrow night and hasn’t heard from you. I’ve never seen him like this.” The concern in Jared’s voice made her heart flutter slightly.

He handed her the note and pulled her into a hug, “Between you and me, I think you’re exactly what he needs in his life right now.”

Jared kissed her temple and walked out the trailer door. (Y/N) let out a breath burning within her chest before slumping into one of the chairs and allowing the tears she held to flow freely. After a few minutes, she gathered her things and made her way out to her car. Looking back at the trailer one last time, (Y/N) drove to her apartment downtown. As soon as she was home, she went into her closet pulling out the small chest that held hundreds of letters from Jensen.

She never thought writing a fan letter would put her life on the course it was currently traveling. It started when she tore her ACL at eighteen and ended up watching Days of our Lives as she healed. Instantly, she fell for the blond hair Eric Brady and found that all the actors had a PO Box they received fan letters from. Taking a chance, she wrote Jensen a letter and from there they struck up a friendship. She followed his entire career and he followed her throughout college then theatrical make-up school. When she landed a job on Supernatural, she came face to face with the man who held her heart. Though, he never knew she was the (Y/N) he would write too. Her mail was forwarded from her home in L.A. to Vancouver making Jensen none the wiser that she was his penpal.

(Y/N), Wouldn’t it be amazing if you got a job on Supernatural. I know it would be a long shot, but then we could see each other all the time. It would be nice to have someone other than Jared to hang out with up here. 9 months out of the year with him gets old. I could even take you for a ride in Baby just don’t judge her on how she sounds because it’s not as cool as it is on tv. How did apartment hunting in LA go? Looking forward to your next letter. -J

(Y/N) sat on her bed with the chest open and added Jensen’s latest letter to it. She grabbed her phone pulling up her text thread with Jensen and sent him a message before losing her nerve.

“Hey Jensen, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out and have dinner at my place? Something I need to talk to you about.”

His reply was immediate, “Be there in 30.”

(Y/N) ordered from their favorite Mexican place that would cater on set and anxiously paced around until there was a knock on her door. As she opened it, Jensen was standing next to a delivery man chuckling. He quickly pulled out his wallet and paid for the meal before she could say anything.

Stepping aside, he walked inside looking around her living room. (Y/N) grabbed the bag with their food and made her way towards the kitchen, “Make yourself at home. Would you like a beer?”

“Sure. Thanks for inviting me over. I was looking for an excuse not to pack up my apartment.” Jensen’s deep voice sent goosebumps all over her body.

She took a deep breath before grabbing two beers, a couple of plates and their food. They sat in her living room eating and reminiscing about their time on Supernatural. Conversation between them was natural and easy flowing like water. Once they were done eating and both of them were onto their second beer a comfortable silence fell between them.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” Jensen leaned back into her couch and placed his feet up on her coffee table.

(Y/N) swallowed the large lump in her throat before pulling out the chest that contained the truth she had been withholding from him. Sitting at the other end of the couch she placed it between them, “This.”

Jensen sat up looking curiously at her before he opened the lid. He pulled out a letter and once he found what it contained his olive eyes snapped up at her, “You?”

She nodded silently. Watching him ruffle through every letter he had ever sent her was terrifying and liberating. He put out the most recent letter and began chuckling, “I guess you’re already going to the wrap party.”

“Jensen, I know you’re probably mad that I never said anything. I just didn’t know how to approach the subject. I love receiving your letters and didn’t want that to change. With the show ending and knowing you all these years, it wouldn’t be right for you not to know. I’m sorry.” She was rambling until he reached out and grabbed her hand squeezing it.

He set the chest with the letters on the table and moved closer to her, “I told Jared today that if I didn’t hear from my penpal that I was finally going to have the balls to ask you out.”

“And now…” she asked looking up just in time to see Jensen leaning in and pressing his lips against hers.

“Now, we hang out and do some more of this,” he kissed once again, “and we take it day by day.”

“I like the sounds of that.” (Y/N) snuggled into his side as she turned on the tv trying to find something for them to watch.

After a little while Jensen asked, “If you were going to write me another letter, what quote would you have put at the end?”

(Y/N) laughed getting up and grabbing her 1001 Random Quotes book. She had taken to ending her letters with random quotes that she picked by simply randomly opening to a page and blindly pointing at a quote. She did exactly that then started laughing as she read it.

“A fanatic is one who can't change his mind and won't change the subject. -- Winston Churchill” She looked up to see Jensen smiling, “I guess that explains me in a nutshell.”

Jensen slipped his arm around her shoulders pulling out his phone bringing up his camera, “As my biggest fan I think we need to document this important moment,” he snapped a few pictures of them together.

Suddenly, his phone began chiming rapidly with texts while Jensen started laughing, “Well I now owe Jared twenty bucks since he was right all along that you were my fan penpal.”

“I know he found out earlier today. Honestly, who would believe a story that a fan would be penpals with her favorite actor.” She chuckled as he lifted her chin to have their eyes meet.

“You’ve always been more than just a fan to me, (Y/N).” He leaned in kissing before they snuggled with one another on her couch to continue watching a movie.

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

My Nerd Herd: @waywardbaby @ladywinchester1967 @akshi8278 @ericaprice2008 @deans-baby-momma @spnbaby-67 @dean-winchesters-bacon @carryonmywaywardcaptain @-lovepeacenhope- @destiel745 @carribear31 @srsllydunnodoncare @whimsicalrobots @thisismysecrethappyplace @starstruckzonkoperatorbat @adoptdontshoppets @mrswhozeewhatsis @bella-ca @drakelover78 @imascio08 @pisces-cutie @dwgrl1903-blog @mannls @the-salty-asian @winchesterprincessbride @xostephanie @superromijn @witch-of-letters @time-travel-bouqet @screechingartisancashbailiff @myinconnelly1 @sister-winchesters99 @thekatherinewinchester @maddiepants @tumbler-tidbits @sandlee44 @destielhoneybee @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @thefaithfulwriter @stoneyggirl @supernaturalginger @emoryhemsworth @wednesdayismyfunday @team-free-will-you-idjiot @atc74 @cosicas-cuquis @casseythebee

#unfic challenge #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles x reader #jensen ackles rpf #jensen ackles fluff

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herstarburststories · 4 years

Text

Treacherous

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Reader

Summary: You finally fall for Demon!Dean's charm and give yourself to him.

Warnings: oral sex (male receiving), language, smasgt.

You grimaced when your feet touched the cold ground of your bedroom, although it was still strange to think about that place as such. After all, it had been years sleeping and not sleeping in a room shared with Dean. To glare at the walls and not to find any rock bands posters or accidentally trip on one of his adult magazines was at the bare minimum. But then, there was nothing you could do about that. Accepting a demon version of your boyfriend’s invitation to stay in your and Dean’s old room was completely out of limits.

Dean, or his demon self, as you needed to remind yourself more than you’d like to admit, was living in the bunker again after an unsuccessful attempt of curing him. Castiel had said that maybe the cure didn’t work out as all of you intended, but it could’ve somehow reminded him of humanly emotions in a deeper sense.

Cas had been resting in the bunker more than usual just to make sure that you and Sam were safe. When he wasn’t there, the angel would be busy looking for another way to cure the eldest Winchester. You and Sam had been searching as much as possible, outside of Dean’s protests against it.

‘’Personally, I like the disease. Come on, guys. I’m still me, just better,” he had said right before he started looking for a new case.

Shaking your head, you rose up from the bed. The clock appointed two in the AM, reporting your obvious insomnia. A sigh escaped from your lips as you walked out the door, silently pacing towards the kitchen. Perhaps a cup of water would help. If you were lucky, the chocolate bar you had left in the fridge would be there still.

The frosty breeze from the refrigerator on your face was near to a midnight relief, which caused you to smile softly. Its light was your only company while you looked for the forgotten chocolate bar, until a deep voice spoke: ‘’You have been avoiding me, sweetheart.’’

You turned around with a swift move, mildly surprised by his sudden presence. Dean smirked at you, half of his face concealed by the darkness that the refrigerator light couldn’t reach.

You huffed. ‘’It’s two in the morning, and I just came to get some water, Dean. Let’s not start it.’’

‘’But I wanna start it, (Y/N). Come on, it’s been days.’’ Out of nowhere, he grabbed your waist and pulled you closer, the blackish shadows enveloping both of you. You gasped, placing your hands on his chest to separate you two.

‘’Let me go!’’ You groaned at Dean, pushing him away, but it didn’t have any effect. If anything, he only pulled you closer. You couldn't see anything in the dark. Yet, it wasn’t quite necessary. His breath hitting your cheek was warning enough of how close he was.

‘’I get it, (Y/N). You miss the good ol’ Dean, but he is gone for good, sweetheart. I’m all that’s left. Don’t you miss me enough to want me like this?’’

Before your answer, he held you. Pressing his body to yours, you felt his semi erect cock against you. You pursed your lips together in an attempt to keep the clear pleasure of feeling his body to yourself. You didn’t need to give him such satisfaction. Besides, he wasn’t your Dean.

He wasn’t your Dean, you had to remind yourself. What was pretty complicated considering how close you were, and how many wonderful memories were attached to similar situations.

‘’What? Cat got your tongue?’’ Dean smirked, moving his hips against yours. A weak moan left your lips. He grinned, leaning him to lick your neck with no scruples. ‘’Or demon did?’’ Although his voice remained harsh and deadly sexy, even his tune had changed. The way he laughed was treacherous, like everything about a demon was supposed to be. You should be scared. You should be mad. You should be anything but attracted to what once was your loving Dean. People didn’t see a demon and fantasize about getting in bed with them. They ran away and started searching for a religious solution to protect them. Right now, it seemed like you were praying to stay with the devil.

Deep down, it was him. There was a fragile, tiny voice in your mind that insisted for you to believe that. He was still your Dean, damaged as fuck, but the man you had loved for years. All your rationality told you to run away, to push him, scream at him until Sam woke up, just so you wouldn’t have a way near Dean again. You had been doing it with ease for three days, but it was only getting harder.

And this Dean made sure that your self control wasn’t the only thing getting harder. His clothed boner was still pressed against you. It grew more excited as he bit your neck, right on the sweet spot where most of his marks were left behind before.

You sniffled softly, which could be easily misunderstood by a low moan. He felt like your Dean. He looked like your Dean. He had your Dean’s memories. But he didn’t laugh like your Dean. He didn’t touch you like him, either. He was more assertive, certainly rougher. Even his mouth on your neck right now showed that. Still, he was too close. After months. He was here. Not quite the Dean you cried endless tears for, but it was enough for tonight.

You needed it. You needed Dean Winchester in whatever shape he would come. No one could point fingers at you for that; they didn’t know what it was like. He could not be your Dean, but he could love you like he did. And if that wasn't possible, he could fuck you like Dean used to.

Unseen tears rolled on your cheeks as you pushed him to the wall. You didn’t dare to make any further noise. It took Dean a second to understand what was going on, but an ill-natured smirk conquered his features when he did. He surely as hell had a good amount of memories on how you enjoyed sucking him off back then, as much as he loved eating you out for records. Your knees met your ground like a prayer’s would, but you weren’t looking for forgiveness. Pretty the opposite, you jumped right in the sin. There was no one, not even a higher power that could stop or help you now. You had crossed the line as you unzipped his pants and got rid of his jeans as fast as possible.

‘’You have no idea how much I missed your mouth, sweetheart.’’

When your lips touched the tip of his hardness, you didn’t feel any relief. It wasn’t a matter of just wanting to have sex with him. It was a necessity. Much like an addict getting another dose of the drug, there was no heavenly, rose-colored feeling. It was just a fulfilment of a need. You needed him, and who could blame you for that? After all you had been through, after fighting every instinct in your body to keep a safe distance, after seeing him die and come back only to lose him again. Maybe the Winchester was your perdition, like many people had told you before in a futile attempt to give friendly advice. Maybe you had achieved the limit or love had ultimately made you crazy.

Your body was shaking in abstinence as you finally put his trembling cock inside your mouth, not taking time to lick the drop of precum like you usually did to tease Dean before doing what he wished. His eyes were closed, head resting against the wall as he bit his lower lip. His precum was being cleaned up by your experienced tongue moving around his length. Your hand grabbed what wasn’t in your mouth yet, moving it up and down to make him more excited.

‘’Fuck, (Y/N). Do it, get all of me in that pretty little mouth of yours. You always loved it, didn’t you?’’ Dean’s groans were an evident desire for you to give him more, but, on your knees, it seemed like you were the one begging. Begging him to stay, to love you, to give you anything to hold on to. And if sex in the kitchen while Sam was sleeping and Castiel was doing an angelic version of rest was it, then so fucking be it.

You coughed a bit as you got more of his dick in your mouth, until your hand was completely replaced. You moaned against his cock when it hit the back of your throat. It only incentivized him even more. Dean’s hand finally found your hair, his fingers running through the (Y/H/C) sea as he asserted the rhythm. As you expected, he was fast, rough. Just what you needed.

After everything that happened to him, since the mark of Cain to his resurrection into a demon, you had been broken. And all your tiny, little pieces together were looking for him. Now, your mind was long gone, and all you knew was Dean Winchester. He was there. He was alive. He was with you again.

You sucked his cock, trying to follow his lead as much as you could without choking. Your tongue swirling around, up, and down his length. The grip on your hair tighter as he increased the pace, searching for his climax. Your pussy was a wet mess since you got on the ground for him, but you allowed your hand to slip into your panties and rub your clit as your mouth was fucked by Dean.

‘’Fuck, (Y/N). I’m coming. Will you be my good girl and swallow all of it?’’ Dean continued moving your head and his hips violently, your fingers caressing yourself as his cock bumped your throat carelessly. He was almost there, and so were you.

Your name left his lips in the form of a loud howl. It almost didn’t sound human. Well, it could always be the demon in him. His semen invaded your mouth as soon as your hands got dirty with your own climax, and all in your head was him, his name, the feeling that always accompanished his touches. You couldn't help but want him to keep close to you, a vivid reminder that he was there. He pulled away from you, and you almost whined, wanting to crawl closer to him. Fortunately, Dean didn’t plan on being apart from you for more than a few seconds, soon leaning forward to grab your jaw. The perfect angle for the refrigerator light to brighten his face. He looked at you through his lashes, indigo eyes dark with desire.

‘’Swallow all of it, (Y/N),” he commanded, as if you weren’t gonna do it anyway. You simply nodded, swallowing every single drop of his cum. That orgasm, though, didn’t feel as much like liberation as it should’ve. It felt like falling from grace. A sweet, tasty fall, but still. ‘’Open your mouth, let me see if you did as I told you. You always loved being my spicy, stubborn girl.’’ Dean pressed your jaw with his fingers. You opened your mouth for him, sticking your tongue out, only to gain a satisfied smile from the currently green-eyed man. ‘’What do we have here?’’ He grabbed your hand and pulled it closer to his lips, vivid eyes glaring at you as if he had caught a little kid doing something wrong. ‘’You were touching yourself, sweetheart? And came just from it and sucking me? How dirty.’’ Dangerously soft laughter echoed from his body but was soon ended when he licked your fingers, enjoying your taste. How he had missed you. ‘’Delicious, as always. You know what’s better? All of it just for me.’’

The refrigerator noises made the anthem for the moment you had sure you had lost your mind. What was done was done. Whatever it took, you couldn't lose him. Not again. You needed him.

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spnsmile · 4 years

Text

Happy?

Monday prompt: BET #SpnsStayatHome

@pray4jensen @bend-me-shape-me @helianthus21 @verobatto-angelxhunter

Castiel leaving Dean to babysit Jack for a few hours comes back to find Dean declaring something utterly ridiculous as—

“I’m going to make you happy!”

This after Jack casually praises Dean not only for being a very good hunter but also an expert hustler, baby driver, fisher, the best chef in the Bunker and just about everything Jack also wants to become (though not really a making of a very good role model), still made Dean feel so good about himself which was rare because in the Bunker— between him and his brother— these are all essential stuff they needed under their sleeves and he thinks Cas barely cares about trivial stuff so Dean appreciates the kid’s honesty because kids never lie.

Until the catch when the boy mentions something in lines of, “Except, you can’t make Cas happy,” making Dean’s eyebrows twitch.

“Excuse me? I can’t make Cas…happy? Did Cas tell you this? That I don’t make him happy?”

“No, but he doesn’t need to say anything. He is not happy, that’s—"

“Wait, you’re telling me I can’t make Cas happy?”

“I think you can’t do that.”

“Even if I’m hilarious?” it has gone very serious.

Actually, Jack means the deal with the Empty but Dean still ignorant of context naturally heard it differently. He heard it like a taunt a challenge on his ability. No one ever challenges Dean without the consequences for even doubting le Dean Winchester! Excuse his French, but he can do anything he put his mind into—and just like that when the angel finally returns from his errand as if summoned, Dean studies him very carefully wondering when the last time Cas’ smile muscles were ever used.

“Cas, you ever been happy?”

Castiel freezes like Dean just told him there’s no such thing as profound bond and continues to look like Dean just gutted him when Dean looks him square in the eyes.

“Happy. I am asking if you’ve ever been happy?”

Eyes widening with a frantic look that seems so out of place from a very simple question, Castiel dwindles. He glances at Jack’s direction searchingly before running the tip of his tongue on his chapped lips.

“Um… why?”

“Ah, shit.” Scraping sound of the chair on the floor as it gets pushed back, Dean stands up tall before the angel, dead flicker on his eyes.

“What—why?” Cas looks taken aback when Dean turns his heels and walks away. Exchanging a confused looked with Jack, the angel runs after him. “D-Dean, what?”

“You should have said something.”

“About what?” voice quivers a little but no one pauses to check as they drag the conversation to the corridor, possibly aiming for a door to shut on the angel’s face, but Cas doesn’t wait for that so he pulls Dean’s arm back.

“Dean—”

“You not being happy, alright?” annoyance not equal to the hunter’s troubled handsome face. Castiel quickly steps on Dean’s space in concern.

“I don’t understand. What’s my happiness got to do with you?” again with the quiver on the voice.

Dean rolls his eyes heavenward. “ I’m not supposed to ask if my best friend if he is happy?”

Castiel shakes his head, lost for words, nothing to describe his shock at the turn of events. Dean returns it with guilt realizing how the ocean blues eyes always there when he is in dire need, those blues he considers so precious to behold have never expressed real joy since it’s fall. Just always stormy anger and determination to fulfill tasks after tasks season per season beneath the blues of the sky.

But never joy. Well, one time with that burger… Dammit. But then…

An idea suddenly occurs to Dean.

“Cas, I’ve never been a good friend to you—”

“That’s not—“

“No, hear me out. I really suck, I know—”

“Dean—” reprimanding, not right to say.

“I always make you angry—”

“Um… okay…” a slow take.

“I always get on your bad side—”

“That is true.” Approving this time.

“I annoy you most of the time—”

Castiel just nods not even trying to stop him now.

Dean glares. “Of course, you realize what this means, do you?”

“Um…” Castiel squints, remembering the Bugs Bunny line Dean always repeats when they watch the loony tunes together, “…war?”

“I’m gonna make you happy,” Dean says with relished determination.

Then true apprehension sets in. The angel saw it in his eyes.

Castiel gulps. “Please, don’t.”

Can’t make Cas happy? You wanna bet?

Three days passed since then. The Bunker remained at peace, oblivious to the upcoming storm. Dean was busy in his room while Castiel can only wait in vain. He becomes apprehensive every time Dean walks into the kitchen or the library or in his general vicinity. Except Dean only smiles at him and do absolutely nothing.

It begins with a text.

Dean smiles to himself in the kitchen with Sam drinking his coffee, Jack opposite him when Castiel’s familiar light steps come bounding from the corridor.

“Dean…”

Sam turns to the angel from his laptop, “Hey, Cas—get this—”

“Dean, you sent me a good morning text.” Cas says urgently, following Dean to the stainless kitchen worktable like he’s afraid Dean would vanish from thin air. Dean who’s wearing a gray calico apron on top of his dark green shirt, sleeves pulled up to his elbows and a very charming look on his face when they stand opposite each other with the angel holding his phone like it’s the bible.

Dean leans both hands on the table, smirking. “So?”

“There’s an emoji text… with a heart.” Cas insists like it’s very important that they understand and make it clear. Sam stares up quietly from one to another. Dean only smirks and shrugs like he’s teasing the overly reacting angel from a trivial text.

“There’s more where that came from, you just wait this afternoon, Cas.” Winks the hunter like it’s allowed to look even prettier in the morning with his beautifully shaped lopsided smirk playfully turning up as the angel helplessly stares in his direction.

Castiel’s eyes widen.

Oh, but that’s just the beginning.

“Dean, why are you thinking about me?”

Cas’ says from the other line of the phone with voice deep and sounding uncomfortable to Dean who’s currently driving the impala after a successful hunt for the day. Cas was left to babysit Jack in the Bunker while Dean took care of the ghouls in Minnesota that took about half a day to hunt and another half a day to kill.

Out of the Bunker the entire day, he messages Cas and promptly receives a call from a very stricken angel.

“You said in your message ‘I’m thinking about you’…Do you have any specific reason why you are thinking about me?”

“Nothing really,” Dean hums in satisfaction, “I’m just thinking about you, that’s all.”

Castiel gasps. “T-that’s very nice of you, Dean… umm…I cannot think of why a person would think about another—”

“Why? Aren’t you thinking about me all the time too?”

There’s a sound of something crashing on the floor so it’s either Cas was reading a book or holding a laptop and Dean’s betting it’s the latter so he hopes its Sam’s laptop not his.

Dean smirks again and perhaps just forgot Sam is sitting beside him until his brother clears his throat again with a funny look on his face.

Dean ignores him.

That same week when Castiel and Jack return from grocery shopping, Dean is there waiting for them in the war room table with a beer can in one hand and book on the other. He looks up and warmly greets them ‘Welcome home,’ especially giving Castiel a very long, meaningful look, green eyes speaking volumes of sincerity so Castiel stammers a response. Dean meets him on the bottom of the stairs and without a word, twirls Cas by the shoulder and begins removing his coat—

“D-Dean!?”

“Yeah, it’s summer, what are you doing still wearing this? You’ll get hot. Well, you’re hot—” and no one asks if it’s the current body temperature but Castiel adamantly fights him.

“My vessel does not respond to the weather as with you humans—”

Dean takes it off anyway, grinning at another success. Before Castiel can say anything, Jack stands Dean’s side, shoulders hunching and waiting for his own jacket to be peeled. Dean takes it too with a smirk, then sees Sam watching from the table giving him the same funny expression he had from the kitchen.

“You wanna get your flannel taken off too?” Dean shoots over Sam as he puts the coats on his arms. Sam rolls his eyes but it all didn’t matter because even when Cas seems annoyed when they reached the kitchen, he was smiling at Dean the entire evening with less coat off his shoulder.

And it just goes on and on be it in the Bunker, the Impala, in the middle of the case while they are working as FBI agents, Dean will just light up like fire in the middle of nowhere.

“Hey, Cas.”

“What?”

“Who do you think is my speed dial number 1?”

“Um… I’m guessing it’s no longer Sam?”

Dean laughs out loud before knocking on their prospect’s door with an agent’s grim expression returning on his face in a flick of a finger.

One night when Dean strolls past Sam in the kitchen comes the awaited talk because Sam has been watching them and knows it’s no longer ordinary ‘thing’ he can ignore even when he wished he could because just the other night, Sam caught the two dancing on top of the war room table with dopey smiles on their faces, arms around each other with Dean saying something about having a dream of tap dancing and symbolic lamps—

“Dean, you realize you’re giving Cas the ‘boyfriend treatment’...”

Dean who’s jut taken a can of beer from his stash doesn’t break a sweat shrugging, “You’re still speed dial 1 on my second phone, alright?”

“I—I don’t care! What’s up with you and Cas? Are you guys…?”

Dean leans his hips on the table and shrugs.

“Does it matter if we label it?”

“What?”

“Uh… I don’t know what you wanna hear, Sam, but… did you see how Cas’s been smiling a lot these days? And I just thought… it’s not bad. These simple things I’m doing… not bad at all.”

“Yes, I know, Dean. And it’s good.” Sam puts on the ‘I’m-trying-to-not-butt-in-but-i-think-you-need–to-hear’ look when he clasps both hands. “But don’t you think you’ll be confusing Cas? He told me about this whole thing, about how you were only trying to prove Jack a point. But this is more than a bet, Dean… This is Cas’ happiness… what’ll happen if you suddenly stop?”

Dean suddenly stops just enough to give Sam a serious look like he’s thinking and overthinking stuff once again before his thoughts come into a halt and he lifts his green eyes at his brother bearing something like a revelation lights his face.

He smiles.

“You got it all wrong, Sammy.” Then he was just gone.

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

“Are you happy?”

“Asking me this when you just shoved me on your door…” Castiel says, voice deep and husky inside Dean’s room, behind Dean’s closed door, with Dean upon him inches from his face, both hands

Castiel puts careful hands-on Dean’s chest, pushing him a little. Locking eyes with those beautiful orbs is enough for Castiel to forget why they were there in the first place.

“I think I maybe being selfish here, Cas but… I ….”

Castiel tilts his head.

“Why are you so fixated on making me happy, Dean?”

“Will this make you happy?”

“I prefer if you do not take this position.”

“What position?” Dean says, breathless, their hips dancing at the friction. Castiel takes Dean’s neck with rough hands and jerks him closer, foreheads bumping. In reality, Castiel is worried. Castiel knows Dean has been trying to make him happy for weeks now. With that kind of determination, it’s only natural Dean finally realizes what Castiel really wants.

“You don’t have to do all of this, Dean. Making me happy… this is too much…”

“You really want me to stop?” Dean says in a husky voice, his mouth already nipping on the angel’s chin sending shivers all over his body.

“I’m just saying you don’t have to do this to prove anything… Just stay by my side.”

“And if I really wanna do it?” the green eyes flash in arousal. Castiel eyes him searchingly, to see if Dean means it, if Dean is ready because Castiel has been waiting for a very long time. But he still fears it, fears the Empty that may just pull him out of nowhere.

“Are you scared, Cas?” Dean suddenly asks, pressing his lips on the angel’s cheeks, “Don’t look so scared… I’m gonna eat you, not leave you, ‘kay? I got you, Cas…”

Their lips crushed and it’s one thing for Dean to groan, another for Castiel to crush his lips on the man. When Dean lands flat on his back on the bed, Castiel as his top, he looks at the human—the man with the very soul he built from hell now ready to be taken apart again and all for him to take—

Dean who trusts him. Dean who loves him.

And Castiel realizes one thing that night when he wreaks havoc on Dean’s bed, while he breaks Dean apart and put him back again, it’s all too clear, realized why he was still in Dean’s arms the entire night, Dean resting on his chest.

Happiness is impossible to attain.

So, when Jack sits by his side munching on his sandwich months later with Castiel and Dean’s relationship out for the world to question yet bearing no real significance to their truth— comes the most important question.

“Cas, are you happy?”

“No, Jack,” Castiel says with eyes twinkling, watching Dean wrestle the Thanksgiving turkey in the oven. Dean whose wearing his apron again, against the blue shirt with solid determination to have the overlarge turkey inside his oven. Sam who’s there telling him how to do it. Dean growling, not listening just because.

“I’m not happy… I want to see more.”

Castiel just looks at Dean with pure hunger and longing and maybe yes, also lust. Such a human ‘thing’ he has acquired since living in this world for many years, first unable to grasp it until finally, it’s here, with him, a feeling also afflicting the angel. Of the real truth about happiness. That in a way, you cannot just say ‘enough’.

Not with what they have. Castiel smiles.

Oh, he is happy, but not too happy.

He will never get enough of Dean.

The end. Ao3 #stayathomechallenge

#SPNStayAtHome #destiel ficlet #cas x dean fluff #tooth rotting fluff #Destiel #DEANCAS #dean winchester #destiel domestics #domestics

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hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog · 4 years

Text

He’s my past, you’re my present and future.

Hey everyone! I hope everyone is doing well, considering the world right now, and that your being safe. @clarinette07 brought this challenge to my attention, and I just had to jump on it. This challenge was started by @princessmisery666 as here Triple Celebration Challenge! Having two creators work together, meshing there writing styles together, a very cool concept.

@clarinette07 and I decide on that our prompts were: the Song You Make Me Wanna by Usher and the dialogue “We’re not meant to be together, I see that now. But we are supposed to be family.”

Synopsis: reader has a thing for Dean and one night they act on their feelings, but the next day things take a turn and the reader’s world is all turn around. A year later and a whole new life, the reader is back in that same town and same motel room she was with Dean, but now she has another Winchester after her heart. What is a girl to do, follow her heart from the past or her present?

Reader X Dean, Reader X Sam. Mentions of lost, heartbreak, flirting, mentions of sex but nothing graphic. Also it is a long story, 5,000+ words but its worth it.

I do hope you like what @clarinette07 and I came up with. If you do, please like and reblog the story, and give @clarinette07 and myself a follow if your incline. But Please do not post as your own work!

Thanks!

Love~

It has been a year since Dean left, no he didn’t move; he was sent to purgatory. Left or sent to purgatory, it doesn’t matter the fact is that he is gone and never coming back. He walked out that motel door, and that was it. If you had known that was the last you would have seen him, you would have asked him to stay, to never walk out the door...for what was it...breakfast? He had kissed the top of your head and said he was going to get him and his girl, his girl, God how you love that he called you that. How many times you wish for him to call you his, and finally, he did. Y/N stop! Stop dwelling, he left to get you both food, coffee to wake up and get going for the day, to help you both sober up from the night before. Probably to clear his head and figure out how to tell you that you both are better off friends than something more. At least that is what you thought when two hours had passed and a dozen unanswered phone calls and text later.

You tried not to worry, you kept telling yourself that something must have come up, that a break in the case or a lead that he had to follow pulled him away and he just couldn’t let you know. Pacing back and forth in the motel room, your mind keeps wondering if maybe, just maybe he wised up and left, couldn’t face you, or tell you the truth. That what happened last night was a mistake, and so, instead of breaking your heart, he just ran. Dean would never do that, he is a standup guy, besides the things he said, the things you both said were the truth. No, something else must have happened.

The sound of your phone ringing pulls you out of your running mind and back to the room, a wave of relief washes over you, see it’s him, he’s calling to apologize and tell you he will be back in a few. Picking up the phone, your stomach drops, and worry starts to set back in. Dean’s name is not on the screen, it’s Sam, his brother. Taking a ragged breath, you click accept, “Hey Sam,” your voice barely above a whisper, the air lost out of your body that you hardly get any words out.

That conversation with Sam, you would like to say, keeps playing in your head over and over, but honestly, you stop listening to his words after, “it all went wrong... Dean’s gone...” what you remember is your legs giving out from you. The feel of the cheap carpet under your bare legs. Losing the strength to keep the phone by your ear.

The words that Dean was gone, although you knew someday you would hear them, in the life of a hunter, it would be stupid for you not to think about it. Thinking about it and actually hearing it, well, it’s two different things.

You can still feel the pain today, when you think about that moment. The feeling of pain radiating out through your chest, you wish like hell it would stop, but it doesn’t. All the air in your body is gone again, and tears stream down your face.

You’re not sure how Sam found you, or how long it was until he did. You remember him picking you up off the floor and carrying you out of the motel room. You buried your face in his shoulder, not wanting to look at him or the world. Instead, just wanting to keep your eyes close and shut everything out, if you didn’t open them, then the truth wouldn’t be real. Then Dean wouldn’t be gone.

Later you found out that a guest was walking by and heard you screaming and crying. Thinking that you were hurt, came running in to find you on the floor, sobbing and in shock. Your phone next to you with Sam on the other end, screaming your name.

Sam brought you back to the bunker, setting you up in a room that was in between his and Dean’s bedrooms. Sam let you sleep, never pushing you to talk, to talk about what you and Dean were working on, and never forcing you to hear what happened to Dean. He gives you your space, dropping off meals outside your door, he keeps his distance.

Hearing your cry and scream in the middle of the night the first month was hard, you suspect, for him. Sam would come running in and see you tangled up in the sheet, sweat dripping down, he would stand at the end of the bed and ask, “What can I do Y/N? Please, I want to help.” His voice pleading with you to let him in, the look of concern because haven’t. Always, you would give him the same answer, “it’s nothing, I am sorry” monotone and pissed off that you woke him again, that you disrupted his life or a stupid dream. You would untangle yourself, get up, and walk past him towards the showers. Every time he would stop you, lightly touching your arm to prevent you from leaving. “I miss him too.” That’s all that you would let him get out, his voice deep like Dean’s but different, a softness and sadness tone that you rarely heard from Dean.

You wanted to let Sam in, you really did. Sam was your best friend, he was the one before all this that you confided in. The one that you could tell all your secrets to, well almost all of them. He didn’t know about you and Dean, about your love for his brother, that was the one thing you just couldn’t tell him. You never wanted to be that girl that fell for your best friend’s brother.

After a few months of silence and wallowing in your own pity and depression, you’re not sure what changed. Maybe the idea that no one is ever really gone, or that all the stories you have heard about both Sam and Dean cheating Death so many times. This couldn’t be the end that there had to be a way to get him back.

Throwing yourself and Sam back into the game, you took anything that looked like a case. Anything that would put you in contact with the supernatural to ask, what happened to Dean? Most, if not all, the hunts wound up dead-end leads on that question, or demon’s playing with you just to see you squirm. After months of coming up with nothing, spending every second pouring over the vast library that the bunker had to offer, you were about to throw in the towel again. Maybe he was gone, that Dean was never coming back, and this, a reality without him, is your new normal.

You didn’t know how it started. Only now whenever you were around a certain loveable, long-haired Winchester, your heart began to beat faster, and your stomach would flutter with butterflies. There was always a sense of peace when you were around the brothers, especially Sam, but lately, things started to change, and you’re not sure how to handle that. After all, you are still in love with the eldest green-eyed Winchester, aren’t you?

It had been a long year of mourning the loss of your green-eyed lover, but thankfully you weren’t alone. Ever-present Sam was by your side the whole time. After your time of mourning, you realized you had to keep fighting. Dean would have wanted you to keep fighting, with Sam alongside you. Not to say things got any easier, but after losing Cas and Dean, then Kevin all in one day, it took some time to get back to any form of routine. Eventually, you & Sam were able to get your friendship back to how it was before that fateful night with Dean.

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

It was another night off drinking and relaxing with the boys when Sam tried to take both brothers to their room, but Dean was just too wound up and asked to stay a little longer. Of course, you loved them both, but Dean rarely ever asked to stay to hang out with you without Sam or leaving with a girl for the night. This was a surprise you would not turn away. Sam looked back, ever so reluctantly, but left nonetheless. As the night unfolded, you both played a drinking game that was a mix of 20 questions and Truth or Dare, and you opened up more to Dean than you ever had in the past. He laughed at your aversion to clowns and said he really does have two sisters!

“One’s a giant nerd, while the other is much easier on the eyes.”

You had never really been on the receiving end of his earnest flirting before, and this just made your heart skip a beat, and all the color rushed to your cheeks. More truths were shared and more secrets told, which lead to you saying that you have never been French kissed before (and enjoyed it). This apparently was unforgivable in Dean’s eyes because he asked if you wanted to try again with HIM!!!

Now, you may have had a little too much to drink, but you damn well know if Dean Freaking Winchester asks to kiss you, you DO NOT turn that down! (Mama didn’t raise no fool!)

That kiss was the start of everything changing. You and Dean grew closer while Sam and you seemed to have a bit of tension all of a sudden, and you could never figure out why. Eventually, you found your rhythm hunting together again, and one night everything came to a head with the looming battle against Dick Roman and his Leviathan puppet army. Things were moving relatively slow between you and the eldest Winchester, but with the fear of the unknown with this fight and (again) too much liquor involved (you’d think a girl would learn) you and Dean made passionate love for the first and, unbeknownst to you, last time.

********* “Hey, earth to Y/N, are you listening to me?” Sam’s voice pulls you back to the present, back in the bunker, back to reality without Dean. You shake the thoughts from your mind, focus Y/N, you have a goal, a mission to follow, get Dean back.

You look up from the library table to Sam, you can see he is concerned about you not paying attention and is going to ask you again for the millionth time are you okay. Giving him a small smile, you beat him to the punch, “sorry, what were you saying?”

Sam sits down across from you and pushes his laptop in front of you. “I think we have another case if you want to check it out?” He says, pushing away his thoughts of pursuing the subject further, knowing that pestering you leads to you shutting him out.

While your eyes scan the article, Sam gives you the rundown. A string of murders over the past few weeks have been going on in this small town. What makes it a case for you and Sam is that each one of the victims’ hearts is missing. “Werewolves,” you cut Sam off, looking up from the computer, “I will be ready in twenty.” You say, getting up from your chair. You don’t wait for confirmation that you’re leaving right now or anything from Sam.

Twenty minutes later, you’re on the road, Sam behind the wheel, and your nose is buried in the recent lore book that you have been reading cover to cover to find anything about purgatory and how someone could escape. You’re pulled from your reading when you hear Sam mutter, “Shit!” under his breath. You’re about to ask what is wrong, when you look up from the book and towards him, your eyes fall on the passing city limit sign. Fucking Boring, Oregon, you have got to be kidding me. In reading the article, you must have just glanced over the town name, this is the same town that you and Dean worked your last case together, the same town where everything changed, the same town where Dean left, left you. “Y/N, I am so sorry. We don’t have to stay, I can turn around right now, call up Jody and see if she can…” Sam quickly stammers out, but you stop him before he can finish.

“Sam, I am fine; it’s fine. It’s a case, and we need to solve it, and we are already here,” you say, your confidence, however lacking, was trying to build for posterity’s sake. Giving him a reassuring smile, you can see that you’re not convincing him at all. “Seriously, Sam, I am fine. Let’s just not stay at that crappy motel again, and we will be all set.” Fake confidence laced in your voice, you give Sam a pat on the arm and try to focus back on your book.

Unfortunately, this town is so small that the only other motel is closed for renovations, so the motel from your past is the only option. Pulling into a parking spot, Sam stops before getting out to get a room, “Seriously, we can drive to the next town over and stay there,” asking you again, if you would want to do that.

“No, Sam, the next town is over 100 miles away, it would be stupid to do that.” You say, giving your best reassuring smile, you push down your anxiety that is bubbling at the surface. Just being here in this town, this parking lot again, you look away from Sam, focusing on the detail in the orange/blue plaid that he put on this morning, one of your favorites. Come on, Y/N, you can do this.

Looking back up to Sam, you can tell he wants to say something, bring up Dean again, or ask if you’re alright. The concern is written as clear as day on his face, his hazel eyes lock with yours. “Come on, Winchester, go get us a room. I am tired, and you could use a shower.” you joke, giving him another playful shove while holding your nose and waving at him as if he smells.

This causes Sam to laugh, his look of worry and concern falling off his face and replacing it with a smile that causes his dimples to pop. “Okay, okay, I am going.” He concedes, getting out of the car and walking into the small office.

Watching Sam walk away, you start to think, Thank goodness Sam is with you because you don’t know if you would be able to handle being here alone again. The last time almost broke you beyond repair, but Sam was there to help hold you and put the pieces back together.

Honestly, you don’t know where you would be today if it wasn’t for Sam, your puppy-eyed Moose Man. Even though you still miss Dean so much, you still feel complete when you’re with Sam. (Does that make you a horrible person?) You don’t believe these feelings are new. Deep down, they were always simmering there, just never given a chance to bubble to the surface. But now that Dean is gone, you have grown even closer than before Dean and you started whatever it was you had. For goodness sake, you never even got the chance to explore that, let alone define it, but with Sam, everything just comes so naturally. You think now is the time to try and move on, not to forget Dean, but to not wallow in sadness either. You don’t have doubts that it’s just the alcohol talking when you’re with Sam or worry about him leaving you at a bar for a random girl for the night. Sam has always treated you like the only girl in the room and, until recently, you always thought he was just a good friend. However, lately, you have noticed this look in his eyes when you’re together. It’s a little like Dean used to get when he’d walk into a diner and see a pie display: Complete adoration and love.

Guilt has held you back from seeing anyone, especially Sam, in a romantic light, but you can’t fight these feelings anymore. Now it was time to make a decision to do something about these feelings or just keep our friendship?

You see, Sam walks out of the office, and towards the car, before you can even think about answering that question, he opens up the door and sets back down. “I got a room around back,” he says, turning the car back on and pulling around the parking lot to park near the room.

“Great!” you say, looking out the side window as he makes the short drive around the building. Y/N, you have to keep your head in the game. Focus on the job, right now, the most important things on our plates were tracking down Crowley to find Kevin and solving this case and killing the monster of the week.

Sam’s POV:

I had waited too long, fought my feelings too long, claiming I loved her as a sister and my best friend, but seeing her and my brother kiss broke my heart. Of course, I was happy for them. I love them both! I just wish I would have been brave enough to lay it all on the line before I missed my shot.

Then, the unthinkable happened, and we lost 3 people who were so very important in our lives, and we were both mournings in our own way. I had to try my best to be strong for both of us. For a while, but I would do anything for her.

Now, it is a year later, and I finally feel like I have my Y/N back. Maybe now that we’ve both had time to heal from the wounds of losing our loved ones, I can try and see where this relationship can go. I wanted to start small. Coffee shop trips together, movie marathons together in our pj’s, making her favorite greasy guilty pleasure just to see her smile. I knew I was no Dean in the kitchen, but I would try anything for her. We both enjoyed doing research and talking about a new monster or new piece of lore we would discover in the MOL library files.

Then, the sleepovers started. It began shortly after Y/N came home to the bunker after everything went down at SucroCorp. The nightmares that would not leave her alone, so she would come and ask to just lay with me at first until she could fall asleep. Later, we would stay up late, and she would talk about what plagued her dreams. After a while, the nightmares stopped, but the sleepovers didn’t. We just enjoyed being in each other’s company. It’s during these times I realize I’ve fallen for my best friend and I don’t think I could live without her by my side.

I knew I was pushing my luck when I found that case that was in the same town that Dean and Y/N had spent time in before everything went to shit at SucroCorp. I knew that she would jump at the chance to work on another case though, I just thought she would have seen the town name and thought twice about it, I guess I was wrong.

I didn’t plan to stay in the same hotel, and after much persuasion, and fifty dollars, I made sure we didn’t get the same room that I found her in that day. I want to get this case wrapped up quick, and I wasn’t going to make her live through sleeping in that same room again.

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

Same day later in the evening-

Getting back to the room around 6pm, you were ready to take off this skirt and heels, and just fall into bed and sleep the rest of the night away. Talking to family members of the victims and the medical examiners has never been your strong point, research and coming up with a plan, that is where your talents lie.

Making your way through the door ahead of Sam, you kick off your heels and faceplant in the stiff and uncomfortable bed.

You can hear Sam behind you try and hold back a laugh as he shuts the door, seeing you sprayed on the bed, “done for the day are we?” he asks, with a smile you’re sure is spreading across his face.

“Yes,” your voice muffles from your face, still facing the mattress, “just leave me here to sleep.” The victims’ families weren’t much help, and of course, the medical examiner already confirmed what you suspect you were hunting. Now came the fun part trying to figure out who the werewolf was and where the den was.

The sound of Sam sitting on the bed next to yours, and him shrugging off his jacket, was the next thing to fill the space. “So pizza or Chinese?” He asks, knowing full well you did not want to leave this room and go out for dinner.

“Chinese,” you muffle again. “Extra egg rolls and sweet and sour sauce.”

Sam laughs at this, “yes dear,” he says, getting up from the bed, he goes to get his phone and place the order.

********* The food was just what you needed to get your second wind, well that and the twenty-minute nap you had waiting for the food to get here. Sitting across from Sam at the small table in the room, food covering the table, you look at the leftovers in front of you, “Why is it, we always get so much food when we order Chinese?” you ask. Twirling your chopstick around your fingers before placing it in the leftover Low Main.

“I think they just always give you more since you will be hungry again in like an hour.” He jokes, tossing over a fortune cookie, “Always have room for this though.” he says, then breaking into the wrapper and cracking open the cookie.

“That is true,” you say, opening your cookie as well, reading your fortune. The room is silent, with only the sound of the tv in the background filling the space.

“So what does your fortune say? Going to be rich and famous soon?” Sam asks, joking, tossing his fortune into the trash pile as he eats part of the cookie.

You stare down at the fortune, you’re not sure if you want to read it out loud or not. It’s not like you ever really took stock in them before, but for some reason, this one seems to hit home. “Umm…” you clear your throat, taking a second to think if you should play this off seriously or not. “Let go of your past, for your present to become your future.” You read off, in a serious tone. Tossing the fortune onto the table, you pick up your beer to finish off, and try and read Sam. Sam, of course, was looking at you, trying to read you as well; by his serious stare down at you, you wonder if a lecture is about to start. About how if this is not a sign that you are running yourself ragged trying to find a way to save Dean, what more did you need. “I mean, these things are never…” you start to brush it off, but are cut off.

“I am in love with you,” Sam blurts out. You're stunned by his outburst, the hardness leaves his face and is replaced by embarrassment. “I am sorry I just had to say it. Had to say something before you brush this off, and we go back to our friendly banter and work the case.”

You’re not sure what to say. You love Sam as well, he has been your rock through it all, your person; but there's still a part of you, that part of you in that motel room from a year ago. A part of your heart always with Dean. As much as you want to tell Sam that you’re over it, over Dean and ready to move on, are you?

Sam seeing the wheels turning in your head, “I am sorry Y/N, but I just had to tell you. I have loved you since we first met. Before, it was just friendship, but it has grown into something more. This last year, us living with each other, relying on each other. It just got me thinking.” Sam pauses, turning his eyes from you and looking down, embarrassed to even tell you more.

“What? Tell me?” you ask him to keep going, even though part of you wanted to tell him to stop, that the more he talks, the more things would be complicated. You know that you can’t give your heart entirely to him and that lying won't work either.

“You make me wanna … more. I can see us having an actual life; maybe it’s not all white picket fences and all, but it’s a life that’s not consumed by hunting and monsters.” Sam’s voice is low, but it’s sincere. He’s focused on tapping a finger on the table, a nervous habit of his that you find cute.

“A ring and all the things that come along with it?” You say, knowing exactly what he’s talking about, you have had those same thoughts about him and you as well; it’s just when you have those thoughts, your brain instantly reminds you about Dean, and you forget about them.

Sam nods his head in agreement. Looking up at you, relieved that maybe, just maybe you’re going to tell him that you feel the same way, that you want to be with him as well. That you can let the past be the past, move on with him. He’s about to ask when a knock at the door stops him. Giving you a questioning look, silently asking if you were expecting anyone, you shrug your shoulders and shake your head no.

You get up and start to head for the door, Sam follows behind you, making sure to grab his gun and getting ready to shoot if needed. Waiting for a second for Sam to get on your side and ready, he gives you a short nod to open the door.

You open the door, and you’re stunned to see Dean standing there. Dressed in the same clothes he left in that morning, his jeans and shirt a bit dirty and torn, his leather jacket has also seen better days. It’s like a bucket of ice water has been thrown at you, you’re not sure you can formulate words into a sentence.

“Hey, sweetheart, can I come in?” He says, a smile forming on his face, taking a second to look over to the right of you; he sees Sam, “Sammy, can you lower that gun?” Dean’s voice, a bit deeper and harder then what your brain has been replaying over the last year, but still that is your Dean.

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

Sam’s POV :

This was not happening! Was this a sick joke? Was this another demon scheme? Of course, right when I get the guts to tell her how I feel, something happens to come between us. But, if this is really my brother, I have no choice but to step down and let them be happy together. It’s the right thing to do, isn’t it? But why does it hurt so much? I just want to be happy, too.

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

This was a dream, you’re going to wake up any second, and you will be in Sam’s arms, and this will be one big dream. But, after all the tests were done, you were still in shock. Your Dean was back, and your Sam had just confessed his love for you. You are so screwed!!! You decided to finish the case, then deal with it all when you got back to the bunker, but that left you with a very awkward, quiet ride home. You sat in the back, thinking about what you were going to do, but could not decide. You loved them both, but realized that you loved them so differently than you thought. You found you could live without Dean, but the thought of living without Sam hurt more than you could ever have thought. As the night went on, and the days went by, Dean was more secluded than usual, but little did you know he was watching and waiting for the right time to talk about what happened between you and him and what he saw happening with his brother and you.

“I see it, you know? How you guys just fit.”

“What do you mean?”

“C’mon, Y/N, I’m not blind! I see the way Sam looks at you and how you look at him, and I get it. It’s okay. We’re not meant to be together, I see that now. But we are supposed to be family. What we had was special, and I will always treasure that, but what you can have with Sammy is even greater than what we thought we had.”

Tears were forming in your eyes, and you couldn’t stop the runaway tear if you tried.

“I never meant for this to happen, or to hurt you, I swear!”

“I know you didn’t, Sweetheart, I know, but I can’t pretend that I am who makes you happy when I can see you’re drawn to my brother, and I can see how much he loves you. How much he’s always loved you.” Dean says sweetly, bringing his hand to wipe the tears from your face.

The act is comforting to you, reassuring you, and that he means what he says. Encouraging you that yes, he loves you, but not in the way that you and Sam love each other. Giving Dean a small nod, you take a deep breath calming yourself and getting the confidence to walk down the hall to Sam’s room. “Thank you, Dean, you’re a good man.” Your voice is less shaky in the end, and you pat Dean’s chest. “I think I should go talk with Sam.”

********** The short walk to Sam’s room from the library was enough time to build yourself back up. You knew exactly what you wanted to say to Sam, and you hope like hell, he still meant what he said before.

Giving the door a quick knock, you hear Sam say, “it’s open.” Shortly, like he didn’t want visitors. You could leave, wait for a better time, but you were here now. You open the door to find Sam at the small desk with his back to you. “Hey, Sam,” you say, to get his attention.

Sam turns with a look of surprise, “Y/N…sorry I didn’t know it was you.” Mad at himself for being curt, you see his face softens, “what’s up?” He asks, getting up and walking towards you.

You take another breath, closing the gap, you hold yourself back from reaching out to lock your hands with his. To feel his skin on yours. “I wanted to finish our conversation...from the hotel that night.”

“Y/N, we don’t have too. Dean is back... let’s just go back..”

“I don’t want to go back!” You yell, cutting Sam off, his silent expression letting you go on. “I want the same things that you talked about that night, I want them with you.”

“What about Dean?” Sam asks, his voice laced with caution.

Needing the connection, you lace your fingers with his. Looking deep into his hazel eyes, you’re confident that this is the man for you. “He’s my past, you’re my present and my future. If you still want me?”

“Yes!” Sam says, a smile forming on his face, pulling you close, he leans down, his lips finding yours.

Kissing Sam for the first time, feels like coming home; passionate, sweet, tender, and perfect; everything you ever wanted or needed.

~ You were finally home ~

Tag List:

@wotinspntarnation @prettybubblesintheair @arses21434 @deangirl7695 @sammysgirl-spnlove @clarinette07 @ezilyamuzed @waywardwboys @bitchy-ginger-1 @unicornblood4ever @onceuponagleepottermindlock @francezka10 @fatacacia

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surlybobbies · 4 years

Text

Lucky Enough [deancas, 2.5k, T, au]

Author: surlybobbies

Summary/excerpt:

Dean opened his mouth, ready to argue, but then closed it just as suddenly, deflating. He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Cas, I don’t mean to be a dick.”

“Then stop being one,” Cas said simply, adjusting the blankets around Dean a little more securely.

There was a pause. Dean blinked. “You’re supposed to say that I wasn’t being a dick in the first place.”

“I dislike lying to you.”

Dean scowled. “Why am I your friend?”

“Because I spend my holidays looking after you when you’re sick,” Cas said matter-of-factly, reaching out to touch Dean’s forehead.

[Dean's sick over the New Year's Eve holiday, but it's fine because Cas has got a bed to share.]

Tags: holiday, new year’s eve, cuddling, hurt/comfort, friends to lovers

Author’s notes: this is for @anupalya, who prompted me ages ago but I never delivered. This isn’t what you asked for but I hope you still like it!

ao3 link or

Dean’s glare could have cut through glass, but Cas parried it away with a roll of his eyes. Into the phone, he said, “He’s not happy that I’m discussing this with you.”

Sam gave a long-suffering sigh. “Can you put me on speaker?”

“Of course.” Cas pulled his phone away from his ear and did what Sam asked, holding the phone between him and Dean.

“Dean,” Sam said, a reprimand. “Were you just never going to pick up the phone?”

Dean glared at Cas over the phone between them. He was sitting up in Cas’s bed, leaning against the headboard, even though Cas had repeatedly asked Dean to lie down and try to get some sleep. Eventually Cas had abandoned his attempts at getting Dean to comply and got Sam on the phone.

So there they both sat on Cas’s bed - Dean with his legs under the covers and Cas sitting at his hip, with Sam the mediator on the phone between them. “I was going to eventually,” Dean said to the phone sullenly.

“Were you going to tell me you were running a fever?”

Dean lifted a hand in frustration. “Dude, it’s a fever, not fucking pneumonia.”

“You fainted in Cas’s kitchen.”

“I was lightheaded! I sat down!”

“Yeah, on the floor. Cas had to carry you to the bed.”

“What the hell - did he say that? He helped me into bed; there was no carrying involved.”

“Dean.”

“What? I’m fine!”

“Cas says you’ve been a difficult patient.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “I just wanna get out of his hair, alright? It’s bad enough I’m sick; I shouldn’t have to make anyone my nurse, especially on a fucking holiday.”

“I like taking care of you,” Cas said firmly. “That’s not the first time I’ve said it.”

“Nobody likes taking care of sick people, Cas.”

“There are literally careers built around taking care of sick people.”

“Yeah, and careers built around shoveling horse shit. No one likes it.”

Cas shook his head, weary. “Sam, I’ll call you later. I think we’re only stressing him out.”

Dean craned his head to say smugly into the phone’s receiver, “Yeah, you hear that, Sammy? You’re causing me stress.”

“Grow up, Dean,” Sam said, though without any venom. “Stop giving Cas a hard time.”

Dean’s jaw dropped. “I’m not giving anyone a hard time - “

“Bye, Sam,” interrupted Cas. He ended the call, then gave Dean the firmest look he could manage, though he knew it was softened by affection. “Dean, you need to sleep.”

Dean opened his mouth, ready to argue, but then closed it just as suddenly, deflating. He sighed and ran a hand over his face. “Cas, I don’t mean to be a dick.”

“Then stop being one,” Cas said simply, adjusting the blankets around Dean a little more snugly.

There was a pause. Dean blinked. “You’re supposed to say that I wasn’t being a dick in the first place.”

“I dislike lying to you.”

Dean scowled. “Why am I your friend?”

“Because I spend my holidays looking after you when you’re sick,” Cas said matter-of-factly, reaching out to touch Dean’s forehead.

Dean batted the hand away, his lip curling. “You’re going to hold this against me for years, aren’t you?”

Cas couldn’t resist a smile. “Decades, if I’m lucky enough. Now please go to sleep.”

***

As Dean slept, Cas kept watch. He pulled a chair from the kitchen and set it next to the bed. Eventually he picked up a book, but rather than read, he found himself more often than not simply watching the rise and fall of Dean’s chest under the blanket, relieved that Dean had come over for the new year because otherwise Dean would be suffering alone in his apartment half an hour away.

Cas hadn’t been lying when he said he liked taking care of Dean - it was always a privilege when Dean allowed himself to receive rather than give, and though the circumstances were unfortunate, Cas was enjoying being Dean’s caretaker -

“Stop watching me sleep, you creep.”

Despite the abuse.

“You’re hallucinating,” Cas said mildly, “You should go back to sleep.”

“My head’s killing me,” Dean groaned, pulling the blankets over his head. “Make sure Sam chooses a good picture of me for my funeral.”

“If I don’t?”

“I’ll haunt you forever.”

“If only I could be so lucky.”

Dean poked his head out to shoot an incredulous look at Cas. “You’re a sap today.”

Cas put out a hand and placed it on Dean’s forehead, gratified when Dean’s eyes fluttered closed. “Again, you’re hallucinating. Go to sleep.”

***

The fever waned, but then strengthened again in the morning, a fact Cas was only aware of when he wandered back into the bedroom from a nap on the couch and Dean grabbed his wrist with a heated palm.

“You’re burning up again,” Cas said, feeling pity tug his lips into a frown. Before he could reach out a hand to feel Dean’s forehead, Dean made a disgruntled noise and pulled on Cas’s wrist. Cas stopped, confused. Dean was squinting at him, fresh from a fevered sleep, probably only half aware of his actions. Astounded, Cas stuttered, “Do you want me to - “ He motioned to the empty space in the bed next to Dean. All Dean did was pull again on Cas’s wrist.

Cas could think of nothing else that gesture could mean, so he slowly pulled back the covers and climbed into the bed, the sheets warm with fever. “I’m going to catch this bug from you, and you’re going to pay for it,” he murmured, but his bravado fell flat when Dean sidled closer.

Dean’s eyes were already closed, but there was a quirk of contentment in his lips when he flung an arm over Cas’s stomach and let his head fall onto Cas’s shoulder.

Cas blinked at the ceiling, helpless and immobile. His chin brushed against Dean’s hair. He could smell Dean’s shampoo and the faint scent of sweat underneath. He clenched and unclenched his hands from where they were held captive at his sides.

Dean sighed, and his warm breath skated across Cas’s collar.

Swallowing hard, Cas murmured, “Try to sleep, Dean.”

***

A few hours later, Cas woke from a poor nap to see Dean sitting up and rubbing his eyes. His T-shirt was creased, but Cas could see it was a T-shirt he’d bought Dean for one of his birthdays - one with the name of a band and a scandalously clad woman adorning its front. He’d bought it as a joke but Dean had cackled in triumph and put it on almost immediately, grinning at Cas so widely and sincerely that Cas had never found the heart to say it was a joke.

Since then the shirt had become stretched and worn, but every time Cas saw it he was reminded that despite Dean’s occasional prickliness, he cared for Cas. Cas wished he could remember which one of Dean’s favorite bands it was but in the darkness of the room, the quiet contentment that still warmed Cas’s bones, he couldn’t remember.

Without thinking, he placed a hand on Dean’s back. Dean froze.

Cas snatched his hand back. Suddenly wide awake, he cleared his throat. “Are you feeling any better?”

Dean ran a hand over his face without turning toward Cas. “Yeah. Throat’s dry as all hell, though.”

“I’ll grab some water,” Cas said, eager to escape the room. He flung the covers away from him and left the room, unable to shake the feeling that Dean was watching as he went.

***

A few hours later, Dean found his car keys and donned his coat - thick, dark blue, a gift from Sam and Eileen that Cas always silently thanked them for because Dean looked so good in blue and Dean always seemed more confident in it.

The Impala was parked by the curb outside, covered in the lightest layer of fine snow. Dean cooed at the car as they approached, reaching out to her roof and apologizing for leaving her out in the cold.

Cas lingered nearby in a sweater and a hastily procured scarf, shoving his hands in his pants pocket as the cold sunk in. He had the distinct impression that Dean was stalling somehow.

Eventually Dean turned to him, putting his hands in his coat pocket and looking over Cas’s shoulder at the door to the house - anywhere but at Cas’s face. “Guess we didn’t get to do the whole New Year thing, did we?”

Cas looked at his shoes. “Yes, well, when your best friend nearly faints in your kitchen, celebrations kind of take the back burner.”

Dean blew out a frustrated breath, looking around at the neighbor’s driveway. “Sorry. Again.”

Cas looked up to stare incredulously at Dean’s profile. “Not to say that I wish you were ill more often, but allow me to repeat: I like taking care of you.”

Dean’s lips quirked upward in a show of amusement, but Cas sensed the doubt behind it. He sighed but could find no words to convince Dean.

They stood by Dean’s car in an awkward silence for a few moments. The snow around them was light, but it fell steadily, pushed sideways by a light breeze and leaving icy flakes resting on Dean’s coat. Cas could see some of it slowly melting in Dean’s hair. The reminder of its transience made him think about Dean, about their friendship, about how the Dean currently standing in front of him would not be the same Dean standing in front of him in two minutes.

In the pockets of his pants, Cas curled his fingers into his palms. How many more versions of Dean, ignorant of Cas’s feelings, would exist? Cas’s mouth opened - to say what, even he didn’t know - but then Dean broke the silence with a cought and a stomp of his legs against the cold.

“Y’know, I should have stayed home.”

Cas was cold and confused, and growing colder and more confused by the second. Brow furrowed, he said, stiltedly, “I’m glad you didn’t.”

Dean batted away his response with a hand that went quickly back into the pocket of his coat. “Listen. I knew I was sick. I should have stayed home. But I didn’t.” He looked Cas straight in the eye for the first time since they’d left the warmth of Cas’s house. “Because I had a plan.” His throat bobbed.

“A plan,” Cas repeated numbly. He tried to understand what Dean was getting at, tried to think of some other ‘plan’ that Dean might have thought of that wasn’t what Cas was hoping for, but he drew a blank.

“A plan,” Dean confirmed. “For - for the new year.” His eyes were fierce, though his lips were pressed together tightly. He waited for a response.

“Well,” Cas started, very slowly, “There’s still time.”

The breath Dean released rose up as steam in the freezing air. “It’s kind of a plan that should have happened at midnight.”

There was no misunderstanding what Dean meant. Despite the numbing cold, Cas’s cheeks tingled. His stomach flipped. He reached for words - any words - because now Dean was waiting on a response, and Cas was not going to let this opportunity slip away. “I - if it’s still possible, I say you should continue with the plan anyway.”

Dean stared at him for another long moment, then he nodded, looking away, resolute. “Yeah,” he muttered to himself. “Yeah, okay.” Then he looked at Cas again, determination in the set of his mouth. “Cas, can I kiss you?”

Cas had known it was coming, but still the words said out loud took his breath away. He forgot every word in the language, pinned under Dean’s heavy, expectant gaze - a gaze that was becoming more and more anxious the longer Cas didn’t respond. So Cas did what he could: he reached out a hand and hauled himself closer to Dean by the lapel of that damned coat. Under his fingers the fabric was thick, scratchy, and wet with snow, but still Cas held on.

Dean’s eyes were wide, almost startled, despite receiving exactly what he asked for. Cas leaned even farther in, encouraging, waiting. It took Dean a second, but then he too was leaning in, his nose suddenly cold against Cas’s cheek, but his lips, when he finally pressed them to Cas’s, blissfully warm.

The kiss was tentative - a test. Cas understood that three years of friendship were being trod upon for this moment, so he trod carefully. It didn’t stop elation from flooding his veins when, as he broke away, he saw Dean chase after the kiss for the barest second.

They stayed in each other’s space for a few moments. Dean’s hands had found their way out of his pockets to Cas’s waist, and as Cas became aware of them, he felt Dean’s grip loosen, then fall away. Dean stepped away, looking down at the footsteps that marked where he’d been standing in the snow kissing Cas. His cheeks were flushed a beautiful pink, and it was obvious he was biting down on a bashful grin.

“Anyway,” Dean said, after clearing his throat. He looked around quasi-casually. “I should probably go.”

Cas caught Dean looking back at the Impala and found he couldn’t bear the thought of Dean leaving, of being apart from all the future versions of Dean there would be, even for a day. He reached out and touched Dean’s face. “You’re flushed,” he said.

Dean sent him an unimpressed look. “You gonna start bragging about your kissing skills now?” Cas admired the way Dean seemed to so easily accept the change between them, especially because Cas himself was having trouble tamping down on the temptation to get down on one knee and produce a ring.

Cas tried to reassemble his expression into one of concern. “I don’t think you’re fully recovered yet, Dean.”

“Is that so?” Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

Cas curled a hand around Dean’s wrist. “I suggest more bedrest.”

Dean’s mask slipped a little. His throat bobbed. “You know,” he said quietly, “I’m so happy I think I might actually be hallucinating.”

Cas couldn’t quite wrap his head around the fact that he’d kissed Dean and it had made Dean happy. The concept that Dean returned his feelings was so immense it didn’t seem real. “Then I think I’m hallucinating as well,” is all he had to say, very unhelpfully.

Dean pressed his cold nose to Cas’s cheek again. “You should probably join me for bedrest,” he said, his voice a rich murmur.

Cas smiled. “Will you not hog the covers this time?”

A pause. “Are you calling me a blanket hog?” Dean asked incredulously, drawing back to look at Cas’s face. “I’m not.”

A few hours later, Cas was lucky enough to find out that Dean was indeed a blanket hog.

END*** TAG LIST:

@super-powerful-queen-slayyna @lifeisingrey @crisp-tiger-riot @fangirlingtodeath513 @levicastho @dontlosethemoon @dmsilvisart @hello-vague-stuff @bold-sartorial-statement @snarkysnartes @massivefaceperson @dontlosethemoon @lymeandcoconut @livebloggingmydescentintomadness @yourspecialeyes

@profoundnet Let me know if you want to be included by sending me an ask! Also if you’re not on my tag list and you’ve requested to be on it, it may be because tumblr is not allowing me to tag you...

#deancas #destiel #deancas fic #destiel fic #yourspecialeyes #kc fic #friends to lovers #cas pov #au #holiday fic #i'm going to start tagging my fic properly now aha

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caranfindel · 4 years

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Recap/review 15.13: “Destiny’s Child”

THEN: The pizza man! Megstiel! Oh, lord, I love these two. Ruby 2.0. Lots of pizza for some reason. Jack is soulless. Chuck is destroying his worlds.

NOW: Bunker. The guys are doing research in the library when they hear a weird loud noise. They rush into a room I don’t recognize and find a cute little seafoam green Fiat. With Kansas plates. {Sidebar: I’m thrilled to see Kansas plates. I wish Baby would get replated before the end.} As Savage Garden sings about ch-ch-cherry cola feelings at the base of your spine, two feet (but only one sock) emerge from the Fiat, and those feet are connected to… Sam and Dean! Well, AU versions of them, anyway. As real Sam and Dean watch in horrified confusion, we get glimpses of AU Sam and Dean – an expensive watch, non-flannel clothes, AU Sam’s hair half up. An open rift glows behind them. “Well,” says AU Sam, “we did it.” The AU brothers fistbump (which is smart; you don’t want to shake hands with coronavirus and all) and we see AU Sam is wearing an Apple watch. Which I think the OG Winchesters should wear, considering how often they seem to miss important texts.

All four make eye contact.

Dean? Sam? Sam? Dean? What the hell? What the heck?

The rift flares brighter, AU Dean says “Aw, nuts,” and the AU brothers and their cute little car are sucked back out of our world.

Title card!

Time jump. OG Sam and Dean are telling Cas about their doppelgangers. Dean is particularly disturbed by their car (as am I, because there’s no way those two big guys would be running around in a tiny little Fiat, no matter how fucking cute it is). And all three are just completely confused. Which is odd, considering that they know 1) there are AU versions of themselves in AU worlds, and B) people can move between those worlds. I don’t know why they can’t wrap their heads around AU Winchesters showing up in the bunker.

“How did they get here?” Dean asks. The answer comes from Billie. “They were running. Because God was destroying their reality. He’s almost done wrapping up those other worlds.” And when he finishes his other worlds, he’s coming after the Winchesters. It’s time move on to the next step in Billie’s plan for Jack. Our boy enters on cue, eating a sandwich and announcing he’s ready. Billie explains that the first step (eating angel hearts, ew) was to prepare his body, and the next step is “more spiritual in nature.” He has to find something called the Occultum.

The Occultum? That’s Latin for “hidden.” Where do we find it? I don’t KNOW. It’s HIDDEN.

Hee!

Smart Sam, slightly embarrassed chastised Sam. Love ‘em both.

They don’t really even know what it is, let alone where it is. Or maybe Billie knows what it is, and just isn’t talking. She stresses that since everything will go tits up if God finds out what they’re doing, they need to be ready, and vigilant. “And not stupid.”

Oh, Billie. It’s too late for that.

Research time. Sam’s frustrated, Dean’s distracted. Because he remembered Amara, and he thinks maybe Jack is supposed to kill Amara too. Sam scoffs at that, but Dean reminds us him that the world will be out of balance if Chuck is gone but Amara remains. Sam asks “But then who takes over? Jack?” Jack wanders in, blowing a bubblegum bubble, and proudly announces that he just learned how to do it. “Probably not,” Dean says. Heh. The guys question Jack about how, exactly, he’s going to strike God down, and either he doesn’t know or, again, he’s not talking.

{Sidebar: Neither of them thought anyone needed to take over as God if Chuck was gone. They were, in fact, looking forward to a Godless world. Why, now, does Sam suddenly think someone needs to take over if both Chuck and Amara are gone? Yeah, I know the answer. Bad writing. Thanks, Buckleming!}

They must have brought the Amara situation up for a reason. It’s the kind of monkey wrench that the writers usually ignore if they don’t have a way to address it. What’s going to happen? Here are the possibilities I came up with:

Both Chuck and Amara are killed.

Jack replaces Chuck as God, which means Amara can go on playing keno.

Either Sam or Dean replaces Chuck as God, and Jack or Cas becomes the Darkness. (Neither Sam nor Dean can receive the Mark of Cain again, right? Isn’t that canon? Or is it fanon? And did Sam’s very brief experience with the Mark actually count?)

Jack replaces Chuck as God, and Cas becomes the Darkness. Or vice versa.

Billie pulls a deus ex machina and the whole Chuck/Amara balance thing becomes moot.

The whole Amara situation will never be mentioned again.

Cas wanders in, gathering information from Sergei. Sergei? Again? Will we never be shed of him? Dean agrees with me. “Him? Are we that desperate?” Apparently so. Sergei says the Occultum was housed in a temple until it wasn’t and Dean starts throwing out movie plots to hypothesize what might have happened to it. I’m sure that was amusing to some of you. Anyway, it ended up in the hands of a faith healer with glowy hands. Oh, who could that be? Well, if you didn’t cover the guest star credits, you didn’t see Danneel Ackles. And even if you did, I’m sure you’ve guessed that the faith healer is Sister Jo, who everyone calls Jo rather than using her angel name. Even Cas. I think we should start calling him Jimmy.

Sister Jo’s. She’s wearing some weird combo of satin slipdress/turtleneck/pink blazer. Any one of these items is fine. Together they’re awful. Sam and Dean show up, asking where the Occultum is, and threatening her with angel blades when she refuses to spill the beans. Which doesn’t seem very threatening to me. As an angel, she’s still so much more powerful than they are. (Whatever.)

She says “I gave it to an old friend of yours – Ruby.” And Sam’s first response is “why would you give it to her” instead of “wait, we killed her years before you fell to earth and became a faith healer.” {waves to Buckleming} We get some ridiculous backstory (and again I don’t understand why an angel cares so much about couture brands) about how she was working with Ruby and oh, look, it’s Ruby 2.0! {Sidebar: I covered the credits, as I said, so I didn’t notice that Genevieve Padalecki was not in them. I love the way Show tries to set up a surprise and then their PR department completely spoils it. Because yes, of course I knew Genevieve was coming back. Even the Unsullied couldn’t avoid that spoiler, especially because some people on Tumblr do not use spoiler tags!!! However, I was under the impression she’d be in the final episode, so it was a huge relief to see her in this one. Let’s waste all the nonsense on a Buckleming episode!}

Anyway. According to Jo, Ruby claimed she had a buyer for the Occultum. Jo gave it to her, and then the boys killed her so the deal did not go down. {Sidebar: Once again, Show, flashbacks to older, better episodes are not doing you any favors.} The Occultum is still where Ruby stashed it – in Hell. Dean rolls his eyes, because that’s all Hell is now. It doesn’t inspire terror, just an eyeroll. Hell is basically Walmart. And Dean’s eyeroll is tantamount to me saying “Shit, the only place I can get toilet paper is Walmart? Ugh.” And I hate that, friends. I really, really hate the way Hell has become no more than an unpleasant inconvenience.

Here. Have a palate cleanser.

Bunker. Jack is eating… everything. He and Cas talk about how he’s really into food now, but he doesn’t feel things like he did before he lost his soul. He makes another guilt-free reference about “what happened to Mary,” like he did right before they put him in the box, and wonders if Dean will ever forgive him. {Sidebar: He doesn’t care if Sam forgives him, or he knows Sam has/will? Discuss.} Cas says “You know, Dean, he feels things more acutely than any human I’ve ever known.” Because yes, Dean has to be the absolute bestest at everything, doesn’t he? {Sidebar: How long has it been since someone told Dean he was pretty? What if he forgets???} Anyway, Cas thinks maybe someday Dean will explode and release his Most Acutest Ever feelings and then Jack will be forgiven. (Foreshadowing!)

The guys enter the bunker, discussing Rowena’s spell to get into Hell, and Dean calls Sam “Samwitch.” \o/ Because, as we know, someone over there reads my LJ and/or Tumblr. Um. Does this mean it’s the Buckleming? If so, I’m going to need some time. Cas shows up and looks constipated and says “come with me” and it’s an odd transition because it seemed like they interrupted his talk with Jack, but actually it must be some time later.

Cas takes them back to the mystery room, which I guess was identified as the armory but it looks more like another library to me, and shows them a ghostly AU Sam and Dean. They’re trapped between worlds, apparently. Dean doesn’t care. When Cas assures him they don’t seem to be in pain, he’s ready to move on. I wonder how acutely he feels that.

Sam tells Cas that Ruby stashed the Occultum in Hell and Cas says “Ruby. The demon you were sexually intimate with.” Sam’s all, really, Cas, you’re going there? and it’s another episode of ha ha, funny Cas doesn’t understand human interactions, and then Dean goes all squinty eyed and says ”sexually intimate?” as if this is NEWS TO HIM and WHAT THE FUCKING WHAT, SHOW. This is not news to Dean. Sam told him ALL ABOUT IT in “I Know What You Did Last Summer.” Dean even told him it was “too much information.” Sam told him EVERYTHING. And now we’re supposed to think he didn’t know Sam was banging a demon?

FUCKLEMING!!!!

Anyway. Cas thinks they should get some confirmation from Ruby before going to Hell, but she is inconveniently dead. And also, why would she tell them the truth, considering they’re the reason she’s inconveniently dead. The guys don’t want to wait. They tell Cas to stay in the car right outside the door to Walmart and keep the engine running keep the spell to open Hell going.

Hell. Ugh So cheesy; so much hate. The guys come across a minion who says Rowena is hosting a reception, and he’ll take them to her. But Ruth wasn’t in the credits (for those of you who saw the credits) so obviously this is a trap. Fighty fighty, blah blah blah. Turns out they were set up by Jo. We do get a bit of a post-exertion huff from Sam, so it’s not a total waste.

While this is happening, Cas decides to go to the Empty to question Ruby, because he’s pretty sure Jo isn’t telling the truth. He needs Jack to kill him to the point that he’s only mostly dead. And we’re reminded about his deal with the Empty, so I guess that’s still a thing. Cas gives Jack a flask to hold his life force, and tells him that if this goes badly, Cas will be lost forever. And if Jack doesn’t keep the spell burning, the Winchesters will be stuck in Hell and will be lost forever. Wow, a lot of things could go wrong here. Jack puts a hand on Cas’s forehead and we see Cas’s grace drain into the flask.

Sister Jo’s place. She’s packing up and fleeing.

The Empty. Cas calls for Ruby. “Hello, Clarence,” says a familiar voice. It’s Meg! \o/ Oh, no. It’s just the Empty Guy in Meg form. Dammit. Meg’s got to be in here somewhere, and I’d love to see some Megstiel action one more time before I die. But it is very nice to see Rachel Miner. Empty!Meg calls Ruby out from the darkness. Ruby fondly remembers Sam as “the big lug” and tells Cas a completely different story about her relationship with Jo. {Sidebar: I hate to say this, but Gen doesn’t look so good in this episode, and I also remember her as a better actor.} Ruby tells Cas the Occultum is “a place, a thing, whatever you want to call it.” She’ll tell him where it is if he gets her out of the Empty. He promises to try, and she whispers in his ear.

Back at the bunker, the guys have returned and are horrified to find that Cas is hopefully in the Empty, hopefully finding Ruby, hopefully finding the location of the Occultum, and Sam says “that’s way too many hopefullys!” Hee. They demand that Jack bring him back. In the Empty, Empty!Meg tortures Cas and says Billie promised she could go back to sleep as soon as this is all over, while in the bunker, Jack feeds him his life force.

Resurrected from the nearly-dead, Cas gets called an idiot, because neither of these guys have ever risked their lives to get information (ha ha, sure Dean). He tells the guys he knows where the Occultum is, and they’re ready to go. However, Jack points out that if Chuck notices they’re gone and figures out what they’re doing, it’s game over. True. But that was also true when they went to Hell, and it didn’t seem to be a problem. Anyway, Dean has an idea. He thinks they need a visible presence in the bunker, because this is where Chuck will look.

We don’t know that. We don’t NOT know that.

Hee! Down in the armory, the AU Winchesters are still stuck between worlds. Dean thinks they can open the rift and yank the guys back into this world. Conveniently, since they’re stuck adjacent to this world, Cas’s grace should be plenty. The AU brothers are playing rock-paper-scissors and maybe I’m missing something, but it sure looks like Dean throws scissors and Sam throws rock, which means Sam wins, but Dean acts like he won. Maybe it’s different in AU World. Maybe AU World rocks are very soft.

Sam does the spell, because the one good thing I still get to have is that Sam is in charge of the spellwork. The next thing we see is the OG brothers and the AU brothers at the map table, drinking beer. I’m pretty sure Jared is going to take AU Sam’s purple suit home after they shoot the last episode. The AU brothers are awfully prissy and don’t drink much beer – “Dad won’t keep it in the house. He only likes his private label Scotch. He spoils us.” Damn. They really are prissy. And John is alive, and went through the rift with them, but they don’t know where he is now. Nor do they seem concerned at all, even though they toast him as the “best guy ever.” The AU Winchesters hunt worldwide, and get paid, and have their own plane. The originals explain to the AUs why they need them to act as decoys. OG Sam tells AU Sam that he’ll have to “lose the manbun” and AU Sam recoils in horror and this is NOT WORKING FOR ME. (Also, it’s not technically a manbun, it’s just half up.) I guess some of you loved them, and I’m sure J2 had fun playing them, but I’m just. Bleh. Rich hunters wouldn’t be fussy little twits. Maybe if they were MoL; I can see that. But hunters with money would, IMHO, be like those Duck Dynasty idiots. They’d still be wearing flannel, they’d just drive huge expensive SUVs.

Sam, who are these douches and why are they in our house?

{Sidebar: Why are all the AU Winchesters the same age as our Winchesters? If the other worlds were copies of ours, shouldn’t the AU brothers be younger? Shouldn’t we have Dylan Everett or Colin Ford here?}

Carrying on. The Impala pulls up to a church, and even Jack thinks this is too easy. But then it’s not, because we hear the distinctive growl of hellhounds. Dean gets the door unlocked just in time, and they all rush inside. Sam holds the doors closed as the other three casually wander around the church trying to find the Occultum. Sam is clearly having trouble, but no one comes to his aid. The sky conveniently clears, revealing a moonlit cross on the floor that marks the spot. Dean pulls up a floorboard and reveals a small blue velvet bag {Sidebar: Anyone else have a very similar Crown Royal bag full of cassette tapes in their car back in the 70s/80s? Or was that just me and my lowlife friends?} Inside the bag is an orb inscribed in Enochian: In order to be in the Occultum, the Occultum must be in you. Sam continues struggling with the door, and the others are all, you held the doors open against Lucifer himself, I’m sure you can handle a couple of silly hellhounds, which is true but still.

Bunker. AU Sam and Dean are cosplaying as our Sam and Dean, but not well. “They said lose the manbun, Samuel,” says AU Dean. “Look, hillbilly clothes are bad enough. I had to draw the line somewhere, and my hair is sacred.” Sam drinks beer with his pinkie extended, and hates it, and I’m sorry. I can’t stand this.

Scenes from the Writers’ Room

You know, last year, Jared got to play a couple of fun AU versions of Sam. I missed out on that.

Okay, but we’ve got you singing this year. And dancing.

Yeah, I know, but I really want to play a different version of Dean, too. I’m gonna be looking for jobs. I need to showcase all my talents.

All right, we can do that.

Also, make sure someone tells Dean he’s pretty.

Anyway. AU Dean is growing to enjoy beer, and he finds porn on Dean’s laptop (leave it to the Buckleming to bring back Busty Asian Beauties, ugh), and he thinks the OG life – nothing but beer, monsters, and porn – might not be so bad after all. AU Sam decides he agrees.

Back at the church, Sam is still the only thing between the rest of TFW 2.0 and grim death. As Cas and Dean squabble over what to do next, Jack figures out the obvious and swallows the Occultum. He collapses and glows and is transported to… Eden! Which has astroturf! And a weird girl who says Eden will change him “if you’re the one meant to find it.” She disappears and a snake appears in the tree. (Hello, Crawly!) “Who are you really?” it hisses. “Who are you meant to be?” Jack has some flashbacks to his best times and worst times and falls to the ground, crying. Then he appears back in the church as a glowing orb which immediately heads straight toward Sam, if you didn’t notice. But I did. Then it floats back to Cas and Dean. Sam collapses and the door opens, but the ball of light disperses the hellhounds and leaves Jack on the floor.

Aftermath! Bunker. Dean is dismissing the AU Winchesters. AU Dean suggests they all live there together, and OG Dean turns them down. He thinks they need to go to Brazil, and refuses their request to keep the flannel shirts. AU Dean tells him they saw the car – and drove it. I wonder when they did that, since the OG Winchesters drove it to the church. Huh. But that’s not what bugs me most about this. What bugs me most is that there’s NO WAY IN HELL (not even new, wimpy Walmart Hell) that Sam and Dean would have let those guys go. Would have turned them loose without any support. No fucking way.

Dean joins Sam, who is standing sadly in the hallway outside Jack’s door. Cas comes out of his room and says Jack is okay, but something is different. They go inside and oh, it’s not Jack’s room, it’s the kitchen. Jack is sitting at the table, crying. He apologizes for not understanding that killing Mary was his fault and begs for forgiveness. Looks like someone has been resouled. And – scene!

So. I didn’t really care for this one. In fact, it kind of made me lose hope for the rest of the season. And maybe the will to live. But I’m not going to dwell on that. I’m going to dwell on this: We don’t need any more side characters, even if they’re Sam and Dean.

Scenes From the Writers’ Room

Okay, who else can we bring back?

What about Ruby? I know a lot of fans would like to see some closure for her story.

I thought she had closure? When they killed her?

{laughter}

Good one. Yeah, let’s bring her back and wrap her story up. And we’ll give Cas and Jack some time too.

But we’ve gotta use the guys at some point. People are gonna complain.

I’ve got an idea – what if we have Jared and Jensen play two different people, rather than Sam and Dean?

You, my friend, are a fucking genius!

But if we had to get two AU Winchesters, couldn’t it have been the ones from Sam’s nightmares? Wouldn’t Boy!King Sam or MoC Dean have been awesome? And what if, after the AU Winchesters tumbled into the bunker, AU Sam quietly pulled OG Sam aside.

I need to talk to you. Alone. What is it? Do you have a secure room? Someplace we can ward? Why? Um… I’m not sure how to explain… Do you have Cain and Abel in your world? {Sam visibly blanches} We’ve got a dungeon. Come help me set it up. Now.

Wouldn’t that have been better than this crap? Or what about Samifer? Wouldn’t Sam and Dean’s reactions to Samifer have been magnificent? (Yeah, I know. We didn’t need a whole Plot. We just needed a small Device.)

And it turns out they’re not airing any more new episodes until… who knows when. Which means we’re stuck with this one. If I die and the last new episode of Supernatural I ever get to see is a fucking Buckleming episode, I’m going to be so pissed. I will come back and I will be haunting some asses. Enough whining. What did you think? And please help me stay unspoiled; thanks!

#spn #15.13 #recap #tv recaps #spoilers #fuckleming

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engagedtobefree · 4 years

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Scott’s Departure

Friday was a bad dream I still have not been able to wake up from.

I haven’t written about Scott much on here anymore, and I have been less active on tumblr anyway. but now I need this site right now to process some very heavy feelings.

The last time I had previously seen Scott was mid-March. I was standing in his office at the end of the day as he packed up his laptop and anything else he needed. I hadn’t been approved to work from home yet. I was down about him having to work from home, but he told me to message him any time. I said I would. I messaged him a day or two later, telling him I’d also be working from home for the time being. My work gave me a laptop to take home. My first day working from home he messaged me to ask how I liked working from home. I told him I hated it and he said hopefully he’d get to see me in a week or two. It was the only time during these past 7 months the he reached out and messaged me. At one point during this time, I got annoyed that I was always the one reaching out. I felt like we had gotten to a point in our relationship, whatever it was, that I wouldn’t always be doing all the work anymore. So I didn’t talk to him for two months. Then I missed him too much and started messaging him again. He actually became more receptive to me reaching out and was always quicker to answer me. It was nice.

I missed him a lot these past months. Eventually I got approved to come in for 2 half days every week, which eventually turned into 3 full days. Scott had come to the office twice for stuff; the first time I was in the office but had left before he came (I didn’t know he was coming) and the second time was a day I was going to go in but decided not to. The office has been strange without anyone really there. Even weirder without Scott there. I have had to go out to the boxes in the warehouse a few times, and I turn around and Scott’s office is dark. I have to go and grab a water jug, and I look into his office but he isn’t standing there smiling and waving at me. My heart ached so much that I began to feel like we’d never go back to normal again. I hate that I was right.

About 2 weeks ago, Scott put his away message on for about 2 hours in the middle of the day. My first thought was, “He’s interviewing.” I shook off those thoughts because I absolutely did not want to entertain the thought of losing him. I had this worry pop up before, that Scott might leave, and I was wondering if I manifested it, or if it was something deep inside of my soul that was trying to prepare me for what was coming. I don’t know for sure, and I don’t know if Scott was interviewing that day or what, but he has a new job now and he won’t ever be back.

Friday, I see Scott go offline about 45-50 minutes before the work day ends. I don’t think too much into it; it is a Friday so maybe he just logged off early. Still, something was bothering me, but I had no idea what. I stayed 10 minutes late to make up the rest of the time I had missed due to an emergency vet visit with Weasley (he’s totally okay). My longing to see Scott was stronger than ever. I literally thought to myself as I walked out that day, “If I don’t see Scott soon I feel like my chest might burst.” I had been parking on the main entrance side of the building instead of the back, since we had to come in through the front and leave through the back per my work’s covid policy (plus it was weird getting in my car without Scott there coming out behind me). I come around the building and it takes me a moment to take in what I’m seeing. There is a car parked in front of the entrance that looks like Scott’s car, and there is a man standing there talking to Linda that looks like he could be Scott. I put my things in my car and just stare. I’m too far away to hear his voice, and he is mostly blocked by the large stone railing, and his hat isn’t black like usual, but I know it’s him. I wonder if I should just leave and wave. Then reality hits me: Scott is here, in living flesh right in front of me and I’m just going to casually drive off and wave after not seeing him for 7 months and after missing two other opportunities to see him?? Am I insane?? Then reality hits me again: there is only one reason Scott would be here today. I start to walk over but realize I forgot my mask, so I go back and grab it. Neither Scott nor Linda noticed my presence until I was maybe 12 feet from them. Linda sees me and she says her goodbyes to Scott, tells him good luck, and they exchange a quick little hug. I barely notice Linda though; I only have eyes for the man I have adored for so long.

Scott and I greet each other and I ask him what he’s doing here. He tells me he was dropping off his laptop and desktop. Me: “You got another job?” Scott says he did. I knew this was coming. Me: “Why didn’t you say anything?” Scott: “It just happened suddenly. I just found out today actually.” Me: “You didn’t tell me you were leaving.” Scott: “I gave my two week notice and next week was supposed to be my last week, but HR told me today to just make today my last day.” Me: “This makes me so sad.” Scott: “Yeah, I’m not happy about it. I’ve been here 9 years.” Me: “Really? That long?” Back when Scott and I first started talking to each other it was 6 years. I can’t believe 3 years had gone by. Scott: “Yeah, I mean I wasn’t looking for a job, but this just fell into my lap, ya know?” Me: “Where is your new job?” Scott: “Ca*********r in Ha*******. A guy that used to work here went there and I asked him to keep me in mind if any job came up and it did and they offered me more money. I couldn’t say no. They weren’t bringing us back here. They were going to keep us remote permanently.” Me: “They were?” Scott: “Yeah.” Me: “Yeah, you know I was walking by the empty cubicles earlier and I was thinking how depressing it will be if they don’t bring anyone back.” Scott: “It is. It’s dreary.” Me: “This makes me so sad.” Scott: “Yeah, I’m sad to be leaving.” Me: “So will you be doing the job you were doing before they started changing it?” Scott says he will. Me: “Yeah, you know I’ve been thinking about leaving too lately. It’s not the same and my raise last year was terrible.” Scott: “Oh yeah, the raises here suck. That 2% or whatever it is, it’s bullshit.” Me: “This makes me sad.” Scott: “Yeah, I didn’t want to have to leave.” Me: “Can we keep in touch?” At this, Scott turns to look at me. He has his sunglasses on and I can just barely see his one eye lock onto mine. I can’t read his face since he also has his mask on, but I know I wouldn’t be able to read this look of his anyway. It’s the blank look I’ve seen 100 times, the one that can mean 100 different things. And as he stands there, not answering me right away, there are several things I notice: how sad I had sounded when I asked him the question; how he is obviously taken aback that I asked him this, so it probably didn’t cross his mind to keep in touch with me; he is thinking over how to respond to this, and possibly get out of having to ever speak to me again once he leaves here. Scott: “Yeah, we can keep in touch; just hit me up on instagram you know I’m on there.” (More on this in a future post). To me, it’s not the most hopeful answer, but it isn’t flat-out rejection at least. Me: “I’ll miss you.” Scott says something about how he hates having to leave everyone, or something along those lines. I wasn’t fully listening because I was shocked by what I just allowed to come out of my mouth. Then several things happen all at once: Scott says, “I’ll miss you too” and he starts to turn his head toward me, but before he can even finish what he’s saying I begin to move toward him, and he opens his arms to receive me. Scott, the closed-off man, the man who has his arms folded so much of the time, immediately opens his arms to me the very exact moment he sees me move toward him. I slam into him and wrap my arms around his neck, and his upper body sways back slightly from the force, but he’s strong and steady and stays rooted to the ground. He wraps his one arm around my mid back, and the other arm beneath it, just above my lower back. I have waited for this moment and also feared it. I expected any hug from him toward me to be loose and uncommitted, or quick and half-hearted. But Scott’s embrace is firm yet gentle, and he just stands there holding me while my arms are wrapped around his neck, my chin resting on his shoulder. We just stand there like that, not moving for many moments. I could’ve stood there with him like that the rest of the day, but eventually I say, “You smell so nice.” Scott: “What?” Me, louder: “You smell so nice.” I hold him for another few seconds and then begin to let go. My lips flare, wishing to kiss him, but we have masks on and I wouldn’t make that move anyway. Scott had let me be the first one to break away from our hug. We say a few more things to each other and then begin walking. I poke him in the arm and playfully say, “Don’t ignore me either.” Scott says he won’t and as I bring my hand back, my fingers lightly graze his forearm. I start to walk toward my car and look back over my shoulder. Scott has his head down. I turn back forward and then look back again, but his head is still down. My heart sinks. I get back into my car and he does too. I pull out and watch Scott in his side mirror. He took his mask off but I can’t see his face. His hands are moving and I recognize that he is using hand sanitizer, but my brain doesn’t send that signal to my hands because as I pass I wave to him and he is watching me in his mirror and he waves back. I wanted that moment to feel like something, to feel like a permanent goodbye, or to feel like a talk to ya later. But it didn’t feel like anything. I just felt empty and sad.

I make it a little bit up the road before I have to pull over and cry. Several cars pass, and one looked like it could’ve been Scott, but I’m not sure if it was him or not. I don’t think it was. I send video snaps to Stacy and Amanda, in tears, crying about how Scott is leaving and I’m heartbroken. They don’t know. Both of my best friends, and they don’t know that I am in love with a married man. I decide to send the rest of my snaps to only Amanda, and I apologize for never telling her the truth, for never telling her the extent of my feelings for him. Then I head home and try to calm myself down enough so that my mom can’t tell I’d been crying.

I lay awake and cry in bed for hours that night. I think about Scott not telling me that he was leaving, that he saw my car in the parking lot and still did not seek me out. I think about our last conversation, from Wednesday, when he was giving me back a one to three word responses, and how he said he’d hit me up when he wasn’t busy, to which he never did. I think about how I didn’t even get to see his face one last time, and how I could only barely see his one eye through his sunglasses at that one moment and how I had to keep looking at the mole on his forehead because it was literally the only defining feature I had of him to take in and focus on since the rest of his face was completely covered pretty much. I think about if he meant what he said about us being able to keep in touch or if he was lying. Then I think about the other times when he told me we couldn’t talk anymore, so I’d hope he would be telling me the truth now. But I sounded so sad that it could’ve influenced his answer, and he won’t have to see me again so he could lie and not worry about it because there’d be no consequences. But then I think about him saying he’ll miss me too, and I know he definitely meant that. He didn’t have to say it back, but he did, and Scott has never ever said anything like that to me before.

I think about our hug, and how I got to stand there, up on my tippy toes, with my arms around his neck and his arms around me. I can still feel the light pressure of his arms around my body and I don’t want that feeling to ever go away. A man I have dreamt about kissing, and laying next to, and having sex with, and the thing that matters to me most is that I at least got to hug him. I know that I will cherish that moment forever. If I never see Scott again, if I never talk to him again, I will remember that hug still 50 years from now.

Saturday I spend a large portion of the day with Amanda. She lets me cry when I need to and she takes yoga photos for me later. When we go back to her apartment later, I go through photos I took of conversations between Scott and I, and I notice how in so many of them I had gotten a portion of the conversation in the photo where he is talking about how he wants to go back into the office. I knew we talked about it sometimes, but I never realized just how often it was, and how much he really, really wanted things to be better in some way. At one point, he is told they should be able to go back in once or twice a week, but then that changes to never. Scott says at one point he might consider leaving, but when I send a crying emoji he tells me to stop and that it won’t be anytime soon. But it was soon. And I’m angry. Not at Scott, but my company. I’m angry because he was all but forced to leave. He complained about them breaking up his department for no reason, and they didn’t care. He complained about not being able to go back into the office, and they didn’t care. He complained about them adding to his position and changing it, and they didn’t care. He complained about the daily zoom meetings which later became daily trainings for a role he didn’t want, and they didn’t care. Scott wanted to stay, he wanted to go back, but he was being forced into this corner and I honestly cannot blame him for leaving. Scott is very tolerant, but he’s also rational and level-headed. He wasn’t going to keep giving his time to a company where they didn’t truly care about him or listen to what he had to say. And I’ll be leaving too. I knew it Friday, that I cannot stay here. The main reason I stayed for the shitty pay and the bullshit was because of Scott. I couldn’t leave him, but now he’s gone and there’s nothing left for me there. I love Pete and Joyce, and I’ll miss everyone else, but it’s never going to go back to normal there, and even if they did bring everyone back it wouldn’t matter, because Scott would no longer be there. There would always and forever be a huge chunk of my work life missing, and it would be the most important part to me. I’ve spent these past 7 months wondering when we could have some normalcy back, when I could once again see Scott walking about the building, interacting with him like I used to. But it was never coming back. Everything we had there is permanently gone, and unless some miracle happens, I will probably never see or hear from Scott again.

I sent him a message on Instagram Saturday afternoon, since I felt inspired to do so: “Hi, Scott. I’m sorry yesterday, I don’t think I told you good luck at your new job. I was upset by the news of you leaving, but I’m happy for you that you found something better and I hope it works out well. I’m also sorry for when I said don’t ignore me. I was just scared that you would, so that’s why I said that, but I also don’t want you to feel obligated to keep in touch with me if you don’t want to. I just wanted you to know that I appreciated our time at work together and how I will miss our talks and your company. I don’t expect anything beyond a friendship, so I wanted to clear that up. I wanted to keep in touch cuz I truly value your friendship and I admire you for who you are as a person. Work won’t be the same without you, and I have felt lately it’s my time to pursue something else too. I hope we can keep in touch though, but I’m leaving that decision up to you. Anyway, I hope you have a nice day and enjoy the rest of your weekend. :)” He hasn’t responded and it isn’t marked as read, but I know the message will probably come through as a request, which he can then accept, deny, or leave sitting there in limbo, and I’d never know which he chose. I also requested to be his friend even though his page is private and he has no photos up, but he hasn’t responded to that either. He told me before he’s never really on there, but I know if he has the app that he got the notifications. I’m not dumb. But what I don’t know is what is going through his mind. Maybe he plans to just ignore me, or maybe he is taking time to think things over, or maybe he truly has not been on there. In any case, I was going to send him one final message when I felt like it was the right time to. I’m not expecting him to respond to my first message, so I know I’ll probably be sending the second one, to which I’d be very surprised if he responded to that either. I have it ready to go, as I typed it out in a moment of clarity, but I don’t want to send it yet in case Scott does happen to respond to me.

I pulled oracle and tarot cards Friday night too. Amanda got me a tarot deck for my birthday, so I did a past-present-future spread and here’s what I got: Past - a woman sitting in a cell, feeling sorry for herself, not realizing that she holds the key to her own freedom (this was most definitely past me before Scott.) Present: heartbreak (obviously true - and this card flew out of the deck and onto my lap so I didn’t even have to pick it). Future: A man coming to offer stability and loyalty (is this Scott? or some other unknown man?) I decided to do a past-present-future with my traditional Ryder-Waite tarot, which paralleled my first reading a bit: Past - I pulled the High Priestess, which stands for secrets and an unknown future, though she could also represent intuition and the subconscious (this makes sense too because I always felt like the future with my situation with Scott was unknown and that I was left in the dark about things; the intuition and subconscious also makes sense because after I began interacting with Scott and slowly learned to free myself from the chains I placed upon myself, our connection grew and I could connect to my intuition more as well). Present - 8 of cups, which could signify feeling dejected and giving up because of having to deal with abandonment (Scott leaving could def be interpreted as abandonment). Future - Ace of swords, meaning triumph (Honestly, I could interpret this in so many different ways, but I have no idea how a triumph would play out for me, but it is a positive at least, so that’s all I need to know). I also pulled 3 oracle cards from my Inner Compass deck (not a past-present-future thing but I was just feeling the 3s) and they each revolved around manifesting my dream life, following my inner guide, and taking control of where I go from here. Oddly, though it was 3 different things, they all somehow tied into each other. I pulled 3 cards from my rebel deck and got “You are talented and fucking amazing”, “You are loved”, and “Love”, all of which seemed to somehow tie into each other as well. There’s also words on the back of those but I wasn’t feeling drawn to that in this moment. In any case, my future might be looking good, but it still doesn’t change the present of me hurting right now.

I want to post more about this, and on my feelings about today and going forward from here, but I will do that some other time this week. I’m tired and I’ve cried so hard writing parts of this. I was able to schedule an emergency therapy session tomorrow with my therapist, so that’s much-needed right now. Then tomorrow I have to brave facing my computer screen, looking at my contact list, and seeing that Scott is no longer with the company, and seeing the chat bubble I left open where he said he’d hit me up, and seeing that he never got the chance to. I’m going into the office tomorrow too so I can do my Duo therapy session and cry freely without my mom knowing. So I also have to face the office at the same time, his forever dark and empty office, the hallways he once walked and won’t walk again. The ghosts of past memories of him were already there on a normal day, so I have a feeling tomorrow I am going to spend more time crying than working.

I never wanted to lose you, Scott. I love you.

#scott #personal

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anika-ann · 4 years

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Traditions Kept Pt.4

Kiss With a Fist

Pairing: Steve x reader

Warnings: swearing, violence

Summary: In which you’re annoyed at the early present from Hydra agents, hence giving the song title a whole new meaning.

Story Masterlist

More than once you had heard that Christmas time was about being closer to people, about love, about giving.

That said and underlined three times, you were sure that the remains of Hydra fucking loved you all, because you received an early present on 22nd – in a form of a newfound active base. Which meant a mission. You hated the no-name Hydra goons from the bottom of your heart.

It didn’t help their case that your powers were still not working at all.

“You should sit this one out,” Steve advised you gently at the start of the debriefing and you just stared at him over the conference table, stunned.

It was only the soft tone he had spoken with that stopped you from snapping at him ‘I beg your fucking pardon’ style. Because if there was an idea you hated more than going on a mission on 22nd December evening, it was the idea of the rest of the team going while you would be sitting on your ass at the Tower, scared to death for them.

“I fail to see why,” you said instead, taking a calming breath, Steve instantly doing the same, closing his eyes.

“You know why. You’re not— as far as I know, your powers are still not restored.”

“I am more than my powers!” you protested, wounded despite the fact you had known it was coming and that he wasn’t exactly wrong. But you had tried! Natasha took her time with you and all the things you had learned were coming back to you – you had just needed to brush it up.

You leaned forward, forcing yourself not to jump to your feet in exasperation. No one dared to enter the dispute.

Steve raised his hand, attempting to calm you down. “I know that. I know you’re a good fighter too, but you haven’t been to a mission without the advantage of your powers before.”

You drew in a breath to make a case – without a leg to stand on, needless to say, because this time he was hundred percent right –, but he continued before you could speak, his intense eyes meeting yours. It made you gulp.

“It’s very simple, Nightingale. I just don’t want y— I just don’t want anyone on the team injured or worse-… dead. Not if I can help it.”

He held your gaze adamantly, his words going straight to your heart.

You weren’t stupid, you noticed the falter in his speech. Both of them – when he wanted to say ‘you’, which was something that made your heart clench, not uncomfortably; and when he couldn’t bring himself to say the word ‘dead’. You could only wonder what thoughts, what memories, ran through his head. Was he thinking about Bucky? He had told you about it, losing his friend for the first time.

Any exasperation you had felt disappeared as if someone snapped their fingers. You felt your own features soften, mollified by his care which bordered with overprotectiveness.

“Okay. I do see your point,” you offered gently, but his frown didn’t resolve. He knew you. He knew there was a ‘but’ coming. “Let me hold the fort at least then. That way you won’t be person down. Let me come with you and handle the quinjet. Be your eyes and ears.”

It hadn’t been before the words left your lips that you realized it sounded as if you were making suggestion for him only. As if you were offering to be his eyes and ears. You mentally scolded yourself, hoping you only imagined the blush creeping up your neck.

Steve must have noticed, because the tips of his ears definitely did turn red. Sam coughed, clearly trying to cover his amusement, but the rest of the team remained politely silent, probably amused only in their heads.

Steve took a deep breath and leaning his hands onto the table, he finally relaxed for a bit.

“Alright. That does sound reasonable.” You almost beamed, lighting up like the freaking Christmas tree. Steve definitely acknowledged that as well and he didn’t seem very happy about it. “As for the rest of us…”

You sat back into your chair comfortably, listening as intently as if you were going to the field with them.

---

Having one simple task – to be the eyes and ears –, you were taking it very seriously, hoping to contribute to the mission.

The team was either humouring you or they did appreciate your occasional remarks about each member having an incoming. To your great amusement, you got to shout the one sentence you had wished to say for a long time, ever since Steve had told you how he had met Sam Wilson.

“Sam, incoming. On your left,” you hummed to the comms and heard Natasha snicker before her punching resumed.

“You’ll pay for that one, Blackbird.”

“Sure thing, Birdboy. Now fight or I’ll have to go help you.”

The cock of the gun behind you told you otherwise.

‘Or not,’ you almost announced to Sam.

You swallowed dryly as you heard the scary sound right at your head and your gaze flickered up from the screen, hoping to get a glimpse of reflexion in the window. You had no such luck.

“Turn it off,” the assailant whispered in your ear and you slowly did as he asked since the barrel of his gun was offering you a pretty solid argument.

Of course, you only turned it of partly, cutting off the voices of the team, the communication now working one-way; from you to them. And since you had no clue how many agents were with you on the jet, you would leave the line open in case you needed back-up. Your ego could take a hit as long as it meant you would stay alive.

“Good girl. Now get off that seat. Slowly, keep your hands away from your body,” the raspy voice of the man ordered and once again, you obliged.

After all, you would fight better if you could stand up first.

“I thought you were supposed to be the smart ones, you Avengers. Leaving such a little defenceless girl, all alone to protect the jet, that’s just stupid, don’t you think, pretty girl? Now show me where you stocked the weapons.”

You grinded you teeth at the insults and sexist comment, but led him through the jet. Being close to a gun – which would not be at your head – sounded like a good idea. Your eyes were roaming the whole space, looking for an escape route, your mind racing.

You approached the panel guarding the weaponry, stopping in your tracks. If this guy wanted to see defenceless and stupid, he could have it.

“There’s a fingerprint scanner. I don’t have the authorisation. I’m just the pilot,” you lied easily, rewarded by his irritated huff.

“And a combination?”

Yeah, that was the other option, clearly. You could see the keyboard as well, only a blind person would miss it. You mentally crossed your fingers.

“Yeah, I know it-“

“Then fucking enter it or I’ll blow your brains out!” he growled beside you, the barrel of the gun meaningfully nudging the nape of your neck.

“I ca-can’t, I can’t let you-“

“Listen, doll face, I’ve been nice so far, but I will kill you. Enter. The. Combination!”

“Okay, okay-“ you sobbed, surprised by your acting skills.

Of course, you tapped the wrong buttons. Twice. It was a pure accident.

“Yeah, I’m blowing it to hell,” he noted, pushing you away, firing the gun twice. The screen flickered and died.

It was all the distraction you needed. You kicked the gun from the goon’s hand, sending it flying through the air. It went off for the third time with that action and you swiftly jumped after it, only to be caught by the man.

“Little bitch-“

You jerked from his grip, kicking the gun farer, out of your reach – but also his. You spun to him, your fists raised, ready to strike. You were taken aback by the knife in his hand. But hey, you handled much worse than a knife.

It almost made you cocky.

"Look, there's no need to fight, right? It's Christmas time, love and peace and all that?" you suggested, opening your fists just a slit, hinting a surrender’s gesture.

“Trust me, slitting your throat will feel like Christmas to me.”

Your gaze flickered around, searching for any possible weapon. It was not what you found though as you noticed something above the man’s head.

You couldn’t believe what you were seeing.

"Not very nice of you, kinda killing the Christmas spirit. I mean… there's even a mistletoe above your head, so…"

The disbelief must have been written all over your face, because for a second, he actually looked up. You immediately took an advantage of that, springing his direction, twisting the knife from his hand. He hissed, trying to punch you, but you were faster. You dodged and with the king of all punches, you hit him straight to his face. Disoriented, he had no chance to see the next blow coming and when you jumped, placing a round kick to his baffled expression, he was done.

He fell to the ground with a loud thud, unconscious.

"Well, that's what I call kiss with a fist...” you muttered under your breath and went to cuff him.

Taking the abandoned gun, you checked if there were any of his friends coming. There was no one. Stupid, leaving him all alone… I thought they were supposed to be the smart ones, Hydra…

You went back to the screens, turning the communicators back on, only to have your ears assaulted by several voices.

“Jesus shit, Nightingale! Report! I swear to God-“ Sam’s voice was the loudest at the moment and you couldn’t help but blink in surprise.

Who would think Sam was concerned? Sam, of all people? Then again, he had lost a friend before…

“Sorry guys, I'm ba-"

"Are you okay?!" Steve cried out, making you wince at the volume. Yet, you couldn’t miss the fear dripping from his voice, the way he sounded out of breath. You noticed that his dot on the screen was heading back to quinjet. Oh.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine-“

“We heard gunshots. Are you hurt?” Clint asked.

Capital ‘OH’. That makes sense.

“Uhm… yeah, about that-“ You heard several breaths being drown in sharply, Steve’s dot speeding up if possible, and honestly you were a bit insulted at the lack of faith. Did they really think you had got yourself shot? “We need new locks for weaponry-“

“But you are okay?”

“I’m okay, Steve. Stop worrying, all of you. I’m a bit wounded, to be honest. Have a little faith in me.”

They went radio silent at that remark and you could see that Steve stopped in his tracks. You sighed, still deciding whether you should be touched or hurt. You went with both.

“Anyway. Whose idea it was to put mistletoe in the quinjet? It kinda helped."

"You're welcome," Tony’s voice hummed over the comms and you were actually surprised it wasn’t Sam’s doing for once. "You'll thank me later, Mariah."

You rolled your eyes. Of course. Tony’s favourite nickname for you featuring the famous singer, hinting the power of your voice. You didn’t call him out on it for once. He might have just saved your life after all.

You eyed the screens.

“Alright, looks like you got them all, now secure the intel, blow the base to hell and let’s go home and have some Christmas.”

“Whatever you say, Blackbird.”

“Shut up, Samuel.”

-.-

Part 5

A/N: (That’s it. That’s how it started. The idea of the mistletoe in the quinjet and a kiss with a fist. The rest just… came later.)

#christmas fic #steve rogers #steve rogers fanfic #steve rogers x reader #steve rogers x you #reader insert #traditions kept #anika ann

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