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floshav · 1 year

Text

yearning for you pt.1

pairings: regulus black x fem! reader

wordcount: 1.6k ૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

warnings: mean draco, mean blonde girl (smh) im sorry blondies, 2 heartbreaks, mentions of regulus's fingers being attractive(idk why this is a warning) Oh yea we have phones in this fic so kinda modern au?

summary: when draco seemingly leaves her for the pretty new thing of hogwarts, she finds her once bright heart slither into nothing but a dark piece of cold coal trying to wonder what she's ever done wrong to be left for, until someone that once lurked in the shadows comes to light and brings the fire back into her black coal heart once more. That person being the infamous regulus black that everyone seemed to misunderstand.

It had been 2 months. 2 months exactly of Draco and y/n officially being together. Today marked their 2nd anniversary and it was all that occupied y/n's "lovestruck" mind

"So..... What'd you think he's gonna do this time?" Daria sang sweetly as she began flipping through her selection of same coloured robes to choose for the day, like it made a difference at all which one she'd choose.

"I don't know, maybe a bouquet of flowers? a box of chocolates? They all seem a bit cheesy tho-" y/n sapped out whilst playing with her fingers as if they were the most interesting on earth.

"Oh come on y/n.. atleast he's gonna give you something rather than forgetting like Dean did last week." Daria sighed whilst finally picking out her final robe of choice

"Okay but Dean was an absolute git for that." Y/n gave her friend a look of pity before continuing "Look i dont know, lately Draco's been a bit... well.... a bit distant. I rarely see him nowadays."

It'd been true, what once was a 7 day meet-up together had turned into thrice a week, thrice a week into once a week, and once a week later turned into once every few weeks or whenever Draco felt like it. Whenever y/n tried to 'bump' into him in the halls in hopes of getting a kiss or some sort of affection she'd been ever so yearning for, he'd always blow her off saying he was running late for either it be class or quidditch. It was always something.

It was like she was an object for him to show off whenever he felt like it or a toy sitting on a shelf waiting to played with. The whole relationship didn't really seem that... real. It was all just a facade to show people that she managed to pull the playboy Draco of Hogwarts, but deep down.. was it really worth it?

time skip to Breakfast

"There, he's at that damn table again." y/n complained as she played with her screaming soggy wizards cereal waiting to be eaten

"Y/n. Stop yapping around and maybe try approaching him about this??" Daria let out exasperatedly before dropping her spoon down and moving to cup both sides of her face

"i-i don't know he's been an awful lot touchy with the newbie." Y/n moaned out whilst looking over at the horrific scene of Draco and Heather. That damn perfect pretty new blonde girl.

"Y/n! i will not stand for your idioticness! That's it if you won't do it i will." Daria raged before getting up to approach the two

"No! Daria get your white ass back here!" Y/n screamed out looking stupid as ever

"Hi~ Draco and... Holly? Polly? Sorry your names quite basic round' here" Daria whistled out sarcastically whilst crossing her arms

"It's Heather. Though i dont think someone like you would remember such basic info considering you can't even remember the names of the three forbidden curses or anything else for that matter.. seeing your recent test marks." Heather spat out abrubtly as if she had the whole speach memorised whilst gripping onto Dracos arm more as if she couldn't make it anymore painfully tighter.

"Who told you that!" Daria yelled with a flushed face remembering (ironically) that the only person she'd ever told was y/n

"Lil ol' Dracky here" She hummed sweetly with a big fat fake smile plastered on her smug face.

"Sorry Daria, looks like y/n over there cant keep her fat mouth shut." Draco said whilst shaking his overgrown bangs out his eyes

"Y-y/n? W-wait here." Daria said with red cheeks as she stomped back over to the place she was previously sat at

"Where else are we gonna go? Is she dumb or something." Heather and draco conversed as if Daria couldn't hear them from a mile away

"Y/n! What the hell? You told draco about my test marks?" Daria raged whilst causing a scene to erupt around her

"What?"

Oh shit.

"Listen! I didn't mean to- i-it just blurted out when we were discussing academic things! I swear!" Y/n defended with a sunken heart as if everything was shattering down a long with her

"Still! What the actual hell y/n! I Thought you could keep a secret! Let alone a humiliating one!" Daria yelled before storming out the main door that led into the great hall

"Fuck." y/n muttered under her breath as she gathered her stuff to leave too

The whole ordeal seemed a bit surreal and dramatic, but what could you do? They were all hormone raging douchebags anyway.

"Hey y/n." She heard the familiar voice of the boy who was supposed to love her yet pained her instead.

"D-draco? what do you want." Y/n said clearly mad at the ignorance she'd been receiving from him lately

"I just wanted to let you know that i dont think i want to see you anymore." Draco said cold heartedly as y/n's whole world came to a stop.

First Daria, now Draco? What else could possibly happen. Just as she was thinking, the final cherry on top was placed as the new girl was presented clutching onto his side like no tomorrow.

"Hmmm yea. Looks like i'm the new replacement for the rusted old one. Blonde hair and everything! What an upgrade." Heather intoxicatingly served out as she laid her head onto Dracos broad shoulder

"Fuck you. Fuck you and your whole life Draco." Y/n said just below a whisper before doing the exact same thing Daria did just a few minutes ago.

Time skip to after all classes

The air was more cold than usual at y/n's spot. The air crisp and cool as strikes of wind made its way past her hair. She thought back to the events of the day, how everything came crashing down even more quickly than when it was put together. A small stream of tears found its way to dampen her dirty robes just as the air around her dried it.

suddenly, an unfamiliar voice cooed out to her from behind.

"Y/n?" hushed the unknown voice

"Who's there" y/n said unbothered at this point without batting an eye

"Regulus from potions, d'know if you remember me let alone know me." He laughed out, and it was the prettiest sound y/n had ever heard."

"Oh yea, Regulus"

she sighed

"ive seen you around."

"Yea.. so, what has brought the fine majesty of potions to this ruged place today? Such a place is no match for the delicacy of Hydrangeas." Regulus questioned out in an equestrian like royal voice

"Hydrangeas?" Y/n chuckled out whilst smiling at him wide

"I've heard of many nicknames, but Hydrangeas? Thats a first." Y/n smiled to herself as a loose strand of hair fell into her field of view.

Regulus thought it was the most precious thing ever and made sure to capture a photo of it in his mind.

"Well what can i say, their my favourite." Regulus semi smiled out whilst looking into the abyss

"You're turn."

"Hm?"

"Why are you here mysterious man?"

regulus chuckled at the nickname

"Y'didnt answer my question yet dangea, wouldn't be fair for me to trade my secrets for nothing in exchange"

He'd shorten the nickname, and you liked it. You liked it a lot.

"D'know. Just here coz schools a bitch."

There it was, that pretty sound regulus made

"Yea. Yea i totally agree, schools a bitch." Regulus breathed

"Im just here coz it takes my mind of things." Regulus mumbled while tracing his slender pale fingers on the concrete you both sat on, feet dangling on the edge.

His fingers, you thought. Such pretty fingers

"You wanna see something?" Regulus inquired with curiousty blooming, just like Hydrangeas did when water hit them.

"Sure, why not."

He foraged around his robes pocket, to pull out what looked like a box filled with small papers.

He muttered a spell under his breath charming the paper to hold his precious digits on it.

"Wow, i never knew proffesor flitwick would teach us to be this smooth with charms." she chuckled before taking the piece of paper he gently handed to her

It read out his number, with a cute smiley face on the side and that was enough to make her day a lot times better.

"So... call me? Whenever schools being a bitch to you again that is."

"Yea.... i guess schools gonna be acting like a bitch for a lil while then." She smirked to herself, knowing all the times she could ring him up now just to hear that pretty little voice of his.

"Well drangea, I best get going. Got dinner in a while, i expect you to notice me at the tables now." Regulus chuckled before handing her an arm to get herself on her feet too

She hessistantly grabbed onto his lean arm not used to touch, and felt all the right tingles spark in her chest making her feel all flustered and hot. She wondered dangerously... how he could make her feel if all those tingles were just from his mere touch. Enough y/n she breathed.

"W-well! See you around mystery man. Wouldn't wanna bother you too much now that i've snagged your number."

"Ah, dont worrybout it ol' drangy." He said whilst making his way to the exit that sat on the roof.

"Call me!" He yelled before shutting the door on her.

She smiled. She smiled very wide at the events of the day.

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like this up if ya'll want pt 2 pls LMAOOA

#regulus black #regulusblackfanfic #regulus being a little shit #regulus x reader #femreader #regulus x femreader #regulus fanfiction #regulus angst #regulus being regulus #harry potter #draco malfoy angst #draco fanfiction #draco #fanfiction #wizarding world #flosha

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angelfishofthelord · 3 years

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"I know what you did"

Whumptober Day 4: pushed. (also on a03)

From a dark au idea I've had for awhile where Cas goes off to be a vigilante post 15x03. And after seeing @dadstiel liveblogging about the end of s14 I wanted to write a scene about what happened in 14x19.

There’s been half a dozen similar stories in the past few months: a child trafficking ring in a state up north was busted and all the men holding the children were discovered either dead or comatose; an abusive father of two young girls was dropped off at the steps of a police station, reduced to a drooling crippled mess; an anonymous call about a factory with underage workers, and when the authorities arrived they found the teenagers huddled in the corner and the burnt, sightless body of the boss under the desk.

“He saved us,” the teenagers were quoted as saying in the article. Similar words used in the most recent news where a local gang that was using eighth graders to sell their drugs was uncovered in the same mysterious pattern. “It was this man...he just came in like the wind,” said Timothy Grant, one of the 14 year olds who was a runaway that had been promised protection by the gang but was then forbidden to contact his parents. “Everyone who ever hurt us was….gone. And he said we could go home now.”

Sam closes the laptop with a sigh. The descriptions in the reports vary, but there are always a few that are consistent: a man with inhuman speed, and the glowing light that either destroys the evildoer or heals the injured. It could be a rogue angel, or one of Chuck’s little comebacks like Lilith.

He ignores the other option, the faint suspicion niggling in the back of his mind.

No. It can't be.

Whoever it is, he’s finally close to finding them. They’ve been smart; security footage has shown that they change cars frequently. The most recent one was a blue pickup truck left under an overpass in the next town. Sam has been staying in the area, checking headlines and talking with local police to see if they’ve seen anyone with a penchant for dispensing judgement on those who hurt the innocents. Like some kind of vigilante, Sam thinks as he pulls up a few feet away from the dark outline of the barn. He got a call from the lady at the diner across from the motel he’s been staying at, saying her friend saw something outside the abandoned Miller farm. It’s probably nothing, but he's here to check, just to be sure.

The first floor of the barn is empty but Sam knows that someone’s definitely here. There’s a flicker of light in the loft above and the muffled sound of grunting. Sam puts the flashlight in his mouth and ascends the ladder carefully. He keeps one hand free and on the hilt of the angel blade in his jacket. As he gets closer to the top he sees a pair of black shoes and the bare, bloodied feet of another man tied to a chair. The man with shoes has his back to him; he looms over the seated man, one hand pinning his shoulder against the spine of the chair.

Sam reaches the last rung of the ladder in time to clearly see the standing man shove his hand into the other’s chest. Light swirls around the invasion, blazing and white-hot, before he withdraws his hand. The man in the chair slumps back, eyes blank and jaw slack.

He knows who it is even before he turns around. He always knew, in a way. “Cas?”

Cas glances back at him with a twinge of surprise in his eyes before he turns back around. “Sam.”

Sam steps closer to the man in the chair. His fingers are still close to the angel blade in his jacket. “Is-Is he dead?”

“No.” Cas keeps his back to him, folding up a map on the wooden table at his side. He sounds strange. Frigid. “That would be a mercy he doesn’t deserve.”

“W-What are you doing?”

“Recharging.”

“No, I mean--that’s not--” Sam rubs a hand over his face. “You’ve been doing all of this? All those people--you killed--why, Cas, why are you doing this?” He knew Cas must be devastated after Jack’s death, after Chuck’s betrayal, and some kind of subsequent fallout with Dean, but the reality of what he's been doing still feels like being hit by a tank.

“I’m saving people. Children,” he adds.

So it is about Jack. “Cas,” Sam moves closer, trying to sound placating. He puts a hand on Cas’ shoulder. “I know losing Jack wasn’t easy. I miss him too but this isn't--”

Cas whirls around, eyes burning blue, and Sam finds himself being hurled across the room, crashing into the wooden boards of the wall before landing hard on the ground. He gasps, trying to find his breath, and looks up to see Cas hovering above him, palm outstretched, face wreathed in fury. There’s a slight pressure on Sam’s shoulders; he’s not being pinned to the wall, but it’s enough to tells him that he absolutely will be if he tries to move.

“C-Cas?” Sam breathes. Maybe he's possessed, maybe Chuck is controlling him. He has to get through to him before it's too late. "It's just me."

“Don’t talk about Jack that way,” Cas says, voice low and lethal. “I know what you did. He told me everything.”

“What are you talking about?”

The shadows darken around Cas’ face. “You prayed to him. He was locked in that box because he answered your prayer.”

Oh. This isn't someone else manipulating Cas, this is really him. Sam feels the tug of shame sloshing in his gut but he brushes it aside and instead makes a faint attempt to rise, only to feel the firm nudge of being pushed back. “Look, I know it wasn’t the best thing to do, Cas, but there was no other way, Jack was dangerous, and he--”

“Did you even try to find another way?” Cas snaps. “You fought fiercely to keep Dean from his fate in that box. Yet you were ready to condemn Jack to an eternity of that same fate without a second thought.”

Sam swallows hard. He tries to remember all the mental gymnastics he did to convince himself why Jack had to go in there, but Cas is still talking. “Do you know why other angels don’t usually answer prayers? Because it makes us vulnerable. It’s not considered a wise strategic move because it calls an angel, by name, to a specific place. There’s no time to scope out the destination for danger or to evaluate the potential risks.” He moves in closer, towering above him. “Or if it’s going to be an ambush.”

“I’m sorry, Cas.” He really is. “We didn’t handle it right, and I wish to Go-” he catches himself. “I wish Jack was still here so he could know how sorry I am. But Cas…what you’re doing isn’t right either. You must know that.”

The eerie glow of Cas’ eyes pierce through the night. “You know, when the Bunker’s alarms went off, it wasn’t just because Jack was trying to break out of the box. I could hear him. He was screaming. The same way he was screaming when….” the light in his eyes suddenly dims and Cas’ hand drops back to his side.

The pressure on Sam yields abruptly and he immediately leans forward, gulping for air. He knows what Cas didn’t say; the sight of Jack collapsing in that graveyard, crying out as searing light ruptured from him, still frequents Sam’s own nightmares. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, useless as the words are. “It wasn’t--”

“I loved him.” Cas isn’t looking at him now; he’s focused on some distant point above his head, blinking hard. “You have no idea how much Jack meant to me, how much I--” his voice catches and he turns away. In between the shafts of light Sam can see his jaw working, the bob of his throat and clench of his fist as Cas struggles to compose himself. A cold, sickly way of guilt washes over Sam and he feels almost nauseous. Every excuse and reasoning dries up on his tongue.

After a minute Cas glances back at him, his expression once more glacial. “You and Dean have each other. Don’t come looking for me again.”

#my spn fic #whumptober 2021 #userjeb #slipper007 #plantdadcas #seraphcastiel #rambleoncas #thisisapaige #dadstiel #angst fic #spn s15 #castiel #sam winchester

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adhdeancas · 3 years

Note

if you're still taking requests he/they nonbinary sam and he/him trans man dean and 'i could not care less about pronouns' agender cas all being happy in the bunker when jack comes out to them as trans?

Love this

and since you didn’t specify, I’m going to go with Jack comes out as nonbinary? Since that’s the general knowledge of his gender

(now part ten of my transnatural series,)

It starts at breakfast. Sam is tasked with making breakfast, since Dean and Cas spent all night watching every Rocky movie ever made, even the bad ones, and definitely including the Creeds. Thus, Dean is slumped over against Cas who is barely upright themself and they are both forbidden from operating near any hot surfaces. Dean already spilled coffee down his shirt so he is now shirtless and careful when he brings the mug to his mouth.

Jack comes into the kitchen bright eyed and bushy tailed as always, the smell of turkey bacon making him smile wider. “Good morning!”

“Morning, Jack,” Sam grins back at him. Dean grunts.

Cas offers a small smile and, “Hello, Jack.”

“Hello.” he turns to Sam. “What’s wrong with them?”

Dean’s too tired to even complain about being talked about like he’s not right in front of the kid. “Late night. Don’t worry, they’ll perk up later.” Cas raises an eyebrow skeptically. “After breakfast. And a nap. And maybe some adderall.”

Dean snorts at the joke but Jack doesn’t get it. He moves on anyway, unbothered as always. “Well, I was hoping I could call for A Family Meeting,” he announces proudly. The resulting silence is not exactly stunned but definitely confused.

“A what?” Dean picks his head off of Cas’s shoulder, leaving a wet spot on his shirt.

“A family meeting. Maybe tonight, at dinner. I have something I want to discuss with you all.”

Sam and Dean make eye contact over Jack’s shoulder, both their heartbeats picking up at the formal announcement. In their experience, in human experience, a big Talk is never good. Cas notices their tension and pushes himself up so she can go to lay a hand on Jack’s shoulder. “That sounds wonderful, Jack. Although if there’s anything wrong, we can help now.” It’s both for the sanity of the adults of the room and for Jack’s problem, whatever it may be.

Jack shakes his head with a smile. “No, that’s okay. I have to take a shower!” He’s out of the room without another word.

Cas reaches across the counter to steal Sam’s mug (a mug Eileen got him that says “I love you more than Wifir”) and gulp down coffee, his own and Dean’s mug a whole six feet away. Sam waves a hand in exasperation before trying to steal it back, which leads to a staring contest with both of their hands on the mug. Sam wins by licking Cas’s hand and making him let go, a move which earns them a laugh from Dean, who taught him that move.

The rest of the day is spent in relative quiet; Cas and Dean do go off to take a nap but they decide to take one outdoors because as Cas says “humans were meant to spend time in the sun every once in a while” and as Dean says “Cas wants to punish me for getting old by sleeping on the fucking ground after not-sleeping on a fucking couch.” Sam video chats with Eileen for a few minutes while she’s at a truck stop; she’s on her way to them after a hunt in Wyoming (which Dean demanded pictures of, he doesn’t think the state exists. It’s the only one in the contiguous US that they’ve never been to). Then he spends the rest of the day pouring over one ridiculously complicated spell that Rowena has assured him is worth the effort (it’s a surprise) but which has to be watched over for several days before it’s ready. It feels like a magic game of jack-in-the-box (no pun intended) to him. Jack spends his day in town with some of his townie friends, and they all miraculously manage to make it home in one piece this time.

Still, by the time dinner rolls around, Dean’s dragged himself away enough to put aloe on his new sunburn, his lack of shirt making his freckles and top surgery scars the only breaks in light pink from waist up, and start making tacos and fried potatoes.

They’re all seated around the table, Dean and Sam getting nervous despite Jack’s reassurances that the Meeting is nothing bad. “What the hell could he have to tell us? We’re literally around him all the time.”

Sam shrugs and wipes their hands off on their pants again. “I dunno, maybe…” he tries to think of anything it could be, but with Jack’s 22-but-also-three-year-old thing going on, he has no idea what to expect. Cas comes back from fetching Jack, the kid in question smiling like a doofus.

Cas sits down with Jack across from the brothers, one of their arms on his shoulder for support. “Okay, Jack, go right ahead with whatever you want to tell us.”

“And hurry up, because the food’s getting cold.” Dean says, more out of anxiety for this to be over with than concern about the food. Sam elbows him anyway.

Jack pops a potato in his mouth first with a grin. Dean rolls his eyes. “These are very good. Okay, so! Remember how we talked about human conceptions of gender?”

They all nod. The conversation had been a memorable one, confusing both Sam and Dean when they got into the more complicated aspects of what gender actually means. In the end, they’d explained pronouns and dysphoria and told Jack that he could be whatever he wanted to be.

“Well, I don’t think I’m a boy!” he says it like it’s a grand reveal at a party, which, to him, it is. They blink around the table, Sam smiling gently to encourage him to continue, Cas tilting his head and waiting for more information, and Dean squeezing his arm over the food.

“That’s awesome, kid, what are ya?”

“I think I’m like Sam. Nonbinary?” he looks at Sam for clarification, and Sam nods.

“Not a girl, not a boy, somewhere in between or outside?”

“I think I’m in between.” Jack says thoughtfully. He looks to Cas. “It seems strange, to identify with human gender since I’m only half-human, but…” it’s like he’s looking to his angelic dad for reassurance that it’s alright.

Cas grins. “Well, you’re only half-angel as well. I think you decide.”

“Do you wanna talk about it?” Dean asks, trying to seem casual. If it was him coming out right now, he’d be three seconds from heading for the door at any question, but… Jack’s not him. Jack wasn’t raised the same way.

“Hm, I don’t know what there is to talk about really. I mean, I thought about it, and gender doesn’t really make sense to me, like Cas, so I thought I might have no gender for a while. But I also like the feeling of it sometimes? So then I thought about whether I was like Dean and I knew it wasn’t that, but I’m not like Mary either.”

Cas, Sam, and Dean look around at each other quickly, their pride barely contained. “Well, that’s awesome, Jack.”

“Yeah! We’re gender buddies! Matching gender!” Sam laughs and nods, their hair falling into their eyes, which covers up how wet they are.

“Does anything make you uncomfortable? Any term or word or clothing?”

Jack looks at Cas with that head-tilt he’d picked up from them. “I like the word them for pronouns. I like how it sounds. Also I wanted to do something with history since I don’t have like… a lot of history.” they look momentarily sad. “I thought about doing xe and xem for a while but I kept forgetting.” they laugh.

“No problem, kid. Is Jack still okay?”

“Yes.” they say confidently. “My mother gave me that name and we knew each other well. She knew it fits.”

“Cool.” Dean nods, out of questions. Sam jumps in.

“We’re really glad you told us this, Jack.”

Cas nods and pulls him into a hug. “We’re really proud of you.”

“We love you a lot, kid.” Dean’s voice breaks in the middle of the sentence, and Sam reaches over to squeeze his shoulder.

Jack hears the change in tone and looks up, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, m’fine,”

Jack looks over and realizes Sam is sniffling too, and Cas looks like he’s about to burst with the emotions on his face. “Is this about the stuff you told me- that some people don’t like it when you’re not a boy or girl or when you change?”

Sam nods. “We’re just glad you know that’s not us, bud.”

“Well of course not. You’re my parents.” They’re suddenly taken over by a group hug, Sam and Dean come over to pile on top of them and Cas. They let the confusion of outsider ignorance roll off their back and revel in the love they have right here at home. After a few moments, their muffled voice says quietly, “Um, dads? The food is getting cold.”

And the spell is broken. It’s a normal family dinner.

#thedropoutthejunkieandmrcomatose #prompt #transnatural #nonbinary jack #trans dean #ftm dean #agender castiel #nonbinary sam #my writing

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tintentrinkerin · 3 years

Text

adelphopoiesis

Author: tintentrinkerin

Title: adelphopoiesis

Requested by: @schaefchenherde

Header by: @wincestismyheart

Divider by: @firefly-graphics

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Demon!Dean x Sam

Warnings: Blood and Gore, Sam Drinks Dean’s Demon Blood, Anal Sex, Not Canon Compliant

Content: Chasing your baby brother around the bunker with a hammer is fun, right? But what if you tickle his thing for blood?

Read here or on AO3

Dean’s most effective weapon is not the hammer he destroyed the door with. The hammer that’s stuck in the wall now beside Sam’s head. It’s not his physical strength, radiating like utter heat from his body, showing in the tension of his neck, the firm grimace of his mouth, his pretty mouth. It’s not the First Blade. A blade powerful enough to kill anything and anyone, but Dean himself.

Sam’s only weapon is a lousy knife. A demon knife, that will barely leave a scratch on a Knight of Hell.

“It’s all you”, Dean says, leaning in the knife, leaning into Sam’s half hearted attack.

The way Dean looks at his brother, it’s tearing Sam apart in so many ways. Ways he thought he’d buried under guilt and hunts and lore and his shame. Sam gives in and takes the knife away, he will regret it so bitterly, he knows. Of course he knows. He can’t even lay a single finger on Dean. The demon in front of him wears the face of his brother but there is nothing left of his soft side for Sam. His voice, how he calls Sam, how he says Sammy, the hair, the determined look, the tongue against his teeth. Like he’s a predator and Sam’s the prey.

Dean’s eyes turn black.

It’s a whooshing sound and it darts Sam’s ears the moment he thought he’d surrender and then, the First Blade, fast as an arrow lands in Dean’s hand. There is not a blink for Sam to react before Dean looks at him with a triumphant smirk. The knife glides through Dean’s smooth skin of his throat like it’s warm butter. Blood spills.

Blood

Spills

Blood is Dean's most effective weapon.

Its smell is so familiar, so luring. So intimate and so…powerful. Sam turns and runs. He needs to go. He needs to get away.

“Oh Sammy, baby brother, don’t run away!”, Dean mocks.

Shit, he’s right behind Sam and Sam’s judgement clouds already. He isn’t even fast. It feels like running through molasses. The air feels thick and strong, pressing Sam down, and the smell of iron and lust and Dean, oh my God, it’s Dean’s blood! - He needs to get away! Sam manages to worm through the destroyed door to the electrical room, but he catches several splinters. Some even bite his face and he gets stuck with the cast of his elbow. Spraining the right elbow, why, Sam, why did that happen? Everything’s against him.

Memories of Ruby appear in his head. Of the smell, the taste, her body, the sex. The grunting and the mind blowing orgasm, the banging against walls everywhere they went. The power, the trip. His increasing power, a stimulant better than any human known drug. It resonates all within him with the odor of Dean’s musk and his blood. He can smell its potential, its strong taste. Sam even imagines how it would make him feel. Running away never felt so hard like right now. He remembers the withdrawal and the pain behind his eyes blinds him as he trips in the hallway and tumbles against a wall. Stinging pain in his arm, in his head and his legs feel heavy. It’s like he has Dean’s breath in his neck all this time. Even though he can’t hear him come close at all. It sounds like Dean is far away, in another world.

“Come on, Sammy, I know you want a sip of it. Makes you all giddy, doesn't it? I can smell you. All of you.”

Sam yells something, but he can’t even make out what he says.

“Keep runnin’ if you must, but you know I gotta find you sooner or later. It’s my home, too!”

The alarm is blaring again and Sam has no idea how far he can run. There won’t be any walls that might hold Dean back. He’s regaining strength, the human blood wears off. Even that Sam can smell. How much stronger Dean gets with every minute.

“I taste delicious, Sammy. Just fuckin’ delicious.”

Oh, yes, Sam bets he does, that’s exactly why he needs to keep running. The smell gets even more intense now and Sam wonders how much Dean can cut himself up with the First Blade. He should’ve given the damn thing to Crowley when he had the chance to do so.

“Stay away”, he croaks.

There’s another hallway, one leading deep into the intestines of the Forbidden Bunker, how Dean and him called it jokingly, when they discovered it. An area full of locked doors made of the weirdest materials. Only one chance is left for Sam, when he finds that one door he unlocked in these months without Dean. He had learned a lot about witchcraft since Dean left this note on his bed, when he left Sam for Crowley and a life as a demon. When the only way to save himself from Dean was to hide himself in a panic room again, hallucinate again, he would have to do it. He rather sees Lucifer again, Mary, Bobby, all the victims they couldn’t save than to fall for Dean’s lure. Drink his own brother’s blood. This was perverted, disgusting, twisted. Even for them. The monster hunters, the monster fuckers, the monsters themselves.

“The longer you run, the harder I bleed, brother!”

Sam tries every door on the way, but none opens. Sam’s eyes sting from the smell. What the hell is Dean doing? Covering the walls in blood? That would be insane. Even Dean would faint at one point. It must be impossible to drain a body so much before it dies. Dean isn’t possessing a body, he still has his own, whatever that means for him and his physis then. Sam trips again, he falls, on his right arm of course. He tears up from the pain that fills his chest, his arm, his shoulder. He can’t survive that long if doesn’t find a hide-out.

It seems to be near, because Sam still can read the signs on the doors and when he finds room 616, he pushes the door open with a long and agonizing cry and slams it shut. It’s the door he unlocked already, a room, bleak as an empty tomb. Cold and pitchblack, there’s no electrical light, just candles, but Sam won’t be able to find them. He can just hide in here, pressed against a wall, praying to Castiel, to Hannah. He even cries for Crowley inside, someone needs to help him.

Footsteps.

The smell of blood. The First Blade scraping on the tiles, Sam knows it’s that.

“Gotcha! I really thought you’d be a bit cleverer than that. Where’s the fun when you cage yourself like a mouse?”

The door bursts open, way too easily. None of the sigils and runes seem to be an obstacle for Dean. And when light shines in the room and Sam can see not only Dean’s silhouette but also his face, he knows. Dean is covered in his own blood. His face, his slit throat, still pumping blood in long and rhythmic spurts from the wound. His arms are drenched in blood and now, with a biting smile, Dean looks at Sam and the Blade carves an S in Dean’s arm.

“Come here, Sammy. Come to your big bro and lemme get you something real good

The stench is so intense now that Sam first vomits in violent jerks and then faints. The last thing he sees before the world turns completely black is Dean’s triumphant, sweet smile and his eyes. His normal green eyes.

When Sam awakes again, he is tied up. Bound to a chair. They’re in the dungeon again, how did Sam come here? His head aches like it’s been run over by a stampede of bulls and his mouth tastes like vomit and blood. He tenses immediately as he’s present enough to realize his situation. Dean has tied him up here, and now he’s sitting on the desk in one corner, right beside the blood donor box that Sam got from the hospital. His legs swing and he hums a strange melody.

“Oh, look who’s up.”

Dean jumps on his feet. Sam can see the First Blade, the damn Blade, resting on the table. Then Dean takes the syringes of human blood and starts spilling them.

“You won’t need them anymore, Sammy. I think I won our little chase.”

“Dean, don’t do that… please. I can still…”

Dean hisses. His eyes turn black.

“You can still what, brother dearest? I already told you. I am what I am now, I am free. I’m finally free. Of humanity. I’m strong now. Efficient. Deadly.”

Sam winces when he moves in the ties. The ropes cut in his flesh and Dean removed the sling on his arm. His elbow hurts so much, it’s taking his words away.

“You were deadly before already. The Mark made you powerful.”

“But guess what, I’m even better now. Dean Winchester 2.0 - I’m all in for my upgrade. You see it as a bad thing, but what I see is … potential. Chances. Oh Sammy, I can conquer the world. Hell. Heaven. You really want the boring Dean back, huh?”

Sam shakes his head but that makes him feel dizzy, he stops.

“I want my brother back. The brother I loved.”

Dean’s black eyes target Sam like he’s prey again and he hates being looked at like this. It makes him feel less human, less Dean’s brother.

“I am your brother. Nothing ever changed that. But I told you to stay away from me, I told you not to look for me. But you did. You plotted against me, with Crowley, with Cas. You tied me up in this chair, you tortured me with human blood. Against my will. For someone who’s all over the place with autonomy and respecting boundaries you violated mine just perfectly.”

Sam squirms. The problem is that Dean is right. But Sam did it for the greater cause, didn’t he? Dean becoming human again was the best for everyone!

“You make me sound like the bad guy here, that’s not fair”, Sam mutters.

Dean laughs and it’s a deep, rough laugh that makes Sam’s skin crawl. This is so much Dean, even darker than usual. And it shakes Sam to the core.

“Good, bad… Who cares. Human categories, bullshit. Nothing’s fair, Sam.”

“I need something to drink”, Sam says faintly now.

He won’t make Dean untie him, that’s for sure, but maybe Cas will come to the rescue soon, he can maybe delay things. Also he needs to get rid of the taste of old blood in his mouth. Dean doesn’t reek of his blood that bad anymore, Sam is very much aware of the pink line across Dean’s throat. A scar. The blade will cause scars. Or at least the weapon delays even Dean’s healing.

Dean smiles.

“Sure. But why waste water on you when I kill you anyway?”

Sam’s heart sinks.

“Will you?”

Dean shrugs as if he doesn’t give a shit at all.

“Thinking about it. But you’re my brother, as you keep on reminding me. Maybe I should give you a chance to redeem yourself in my eyes and let you live?”

“And how would you do that?”, Sam asks, winding in his ties.

Dean goes away. Doesn’t say another word. Sam is stunned and damn, holy shit, he’s afraid. Dean will kill him. But what is it with the possibility of letting him live?

The smell of iron. Like a perfume, soft and silky. No. No no no.

“Dean? Dean!”, Sam cries and fights the restraints harder.

He did it again. He slit his fucking throat, Sam knows it. And this time, he won’t be able to run, he won’t be able to fight back. He’s tied up, he’s in pain, he’s weak. It’s not like with the other hunters who wanted to force him to drink demon blood. He could fight them off, but now?

Emaciated. Sick. Depressed. A broken arm. Hungry. Tied up. The addiction is pulsating through his veins, giving him the chills. It’s hot and cold at the same time. Like crackling in the air, the heavy scent of blood and Dean, he can only say no.

Dean won’t take a no, why should he? He’s a Knight of Hell. Sam is human. His brother is back, his throat cut deep enough to see the structures of muscles, veins, nerves, his trachea, the pulsing blood. Sam vomits all over his shirt, but there’s not much left except bitter, yellow gall.

“You’re sick, huh?”, Dean coos in a voice like he did when Sam was younger. It’s meant for comfort but now it just feels like mockery and Sam wonders how he deserves to see his brother slit his throat, twice, just to seduce Sam to drink it. It's so fucked up. It’s low, even for lean, mean Dean. Human Dean would’ve never provoked Sam’s demon blood addiction.

Sam nuzzles against the hand that’s stroking his face, his eyes squeezed shut. His lips tremble.

“Let me make you feel better, don’t pull away, Sammy…”

Sam cries out and some ugly big tears fall down his face. Is it so easy to break? He’s gone through so much pain already, through torture, rape, withdrawal. He was betrayed by everyone he loved, especially Dean. Dean’s hand is warm, but his skin feels like marble when Sam leans in, rubs his face in the palm of Dean’s hand. Is this still his brother? Is there any humanity left?

But what would that change? They’re here now. In a bunker soaked with demon blood, Sam is tied up, Dean reigns.

“Hush, hush”, Dean purrs, both of his hands holding Sam’s bobbing head. “It’s gonna be alright… Sammy, just give in. There will be no more pain, just us. You and me, against the world. Like it used to be.”

Sam opens his eyes but all he sees is blurry and red, it stinks of iron and vomit and Dean’s black eyes…

“I wanna see your normal eyes”, is all Sam can say right now.

A smirk.

“Anything for you, Sammy.”

And Dean’s eyes flash back to green and Sam can have the illusion of his brother just for a moment longer. Thick dark blood is pulsing out of Dean’s cut on his throat.

“It looks disgusting, Dee.”

Dean only laughs.

“It’s not supposed to be beautiful.”

Dean cups his hand before the dripping wound, collects a tiny lake of blood in his hand and then, gently presses his blood covered hand against Sam’s lips.

The world turns upside down. Sam feels the spinning, the spinning, the spinning!

The taste makes him want to barf, violently, but the old creature, the blood sucking monster was waiting patiently beneath the surface. Patient but greedy. Now it’s unleashed it bursts out and the first drops, he swallows. His lips limp and curled in utter disgust, but now, oh now, there’s a jolt running through his body, he sits straight up, first ties grinding, the ropes won’t last. The shackles won’t last.

“Come on, sweet baby boy, you want more…” Dean sings, eyes black as the night.

And slowly, very slowly and enjoying, Sam’s lips brush Dean’s hand, collect the blood, a tongue, pink, hot sneaks out, licks the offered hand.

The ropes break. The pain in Sam’s arm fades. It’s a movement even Dean didn’t see coming when Sam bursts out of all restraints he put on him and grips Dean’s hand tight, as tight as possible and sucks three of Dean’s fingers dry.

The Knight of Hell rejoices, pulls Sam close, closer than they’ve been for a very long time.

“That’s it, Sammy, yes, that’s it, let me take care of you… such a greedy boy…”

Dean’s voice is distant to Sam, distorted and hollow, he remembers their youth, the motel rooms, the flickering lights, the old tv, how Dean smelled of whiskey and beer. John’s passed out in an armchair, stained in blood, piss and vomit.

He remembers Dean’s care. The kisses at night, the stealthy handjobs in the shower, how Dean ‘taught’ him how people do it.

Make love.

Sam was twelve. Dean was sixteen. And he was a grower.

A slut.

All of this drenched in velvety red tint.

The ritual.

“Let me take care of you, Sammy…”

“I love you, Dee.”

“Never tell anyone.”

And Sam never had told anyone (but Lucifer knew - he knew everything) and deep down, buried in his mind, these feelings were in peaceful slumber, violently dragged across the floor now, kicking and crying,

A W A K E

Sam is awake.

He remembers the awkward, painful, dry fuck in the back of the Impala after they killed the Wendigo, so long ago, and how they never ever said a word.

Spit is shitty lube.

So is blood.

It roars. The monster roars in Sam’s chest. It’s in agony, it’s in joy, it’s free!

And Sam is just a puppet, always been nothing more than a puppet. He watches himself suck Dean’s fingers, then sticking his own fingers in the wound, stir it, stir Dean’s insides. The gurgling, the retching. Dean’s satisfied moans, his hands all over Sam’s now healed body.

“Yes, Sammy, let it all out, come on… Let it all out.”

Sam only hisses. This blood, Dean’s blood, the blood of a demon, of a Knight. It’s so much more potent than Ruby’s or any other demon’s he’s ever drank and tasted. Dean is delicious. Demon tend to taste like rotting meat, titan arum aroma.

But Dean tastes of all the good things. Dahlia, petrichor, amber. His musk makes Sam’s blood boil and his pants bulge.

“Sammy.”

“Dean”, is the first thing New Sam says.

What Monster Sam says. His voice sounds low, rough, barely in control. His body is shaking, too much force is withhold now.

“Brother.”

The wound on Dean’s throat is closing up again already, the healing ability is really incredible. Sam will bite it open very, very soon, but first…

Dean doesn’t protest, he doesn’t fight back at all when Sam slams him down to the ground like he weighs nothing. There’s the crunchy sound of maybe, bones breaking, or just getting sprained, but even that, Dean will heal in no time. Dean lies on his stomach, attempts to get up.

“Sammy-”

“Sammy is not here right now.”

There’s no surprise, no scare in Dean’s voice. Sam stomps his bare foot in Dean’s back and Dean stays, doesn’t even breathe. The adrenaline rush in Sam’s ears makes him deaf for most other things and seeing demon Dean down on his stomach, defeated so easily, it’s almost an insult. Sam crouches down, one foot still on Dean’s back, pressing him down.

“You surrender?”, Sam asks, eyebrows raise.

“I didn’t mean to fight you at all.”

Dean chuckles, his voice raspy

Sam drags Dean on all fours, rips apart his shirt (the pretty red shirt, ruined with blood anyway) and Jeans and when he holds Dean’s hips, bends over and bites Dean’s neck, Dean hisses “Come on, Sammy, that’s it.”

That’s it.

Sam tears apart skin, Dean’s blood gushes in Sam’s mouth, warm and silky, smooth and delicious.

“Is that what you wanted?”, Sam says in a breathless moment, before he starts sucking the wound dry, the bleeding will stop soon, way too soon for Sam to be satisfied.

Dean growls deeply, pushes against Sam. Pleading. Sam pushes two fingers inside Dean, but feels very quickly, Dean doesn’t need it. He doesn’t want it. He needs Sam. He rips off his jeans, down to his knees and when that’s not giving him enough space, he just tears it to shreds completely. Dean’s ass is perfect. Round, juicy, firm. When he gives it a slap - a hard one - he enjoys the noise Dean makes. And then he thrusts completely inside, without hesitation. No foreplay. No gentle feeling ahead and preparing Dean’s wonderfully tight and delicious ass. He feels amazing, hot, tight, smooth. Dean hands grip Sam’s wrists tight while he fucks into him, raw, without anything to soothe the pain, make it easier, make Dean nice, slick and wet. But he doesn’t complain at all.

“That’s it”, Dean chants, in his low, low “Let’s finish this game” voice. That’s it, over and over.

This is no sex Sam would ever have if he was in his right mind. Covered in his own vomit, Dean’s blood, on the cold floor. Not that he has fucked any guy after he fled off to Stanford anyway. Dean is all he knows. He only knows what Dean taught him about fucking ass.

Dean starts getting slippery with his own blood, Sam’s blood infused spit and finally, cum. Sam loses the feeling of time and space, all he can do is fuck Dean until one of them passes out, and if Dean passed out, Sam would continue anyway.

The adrenaline rush plummets too early for Sam’s taste, the haze clears up and he’s getting aware of his ripped off clothes, the shreds of Dean’s. The fluids, the smell, the feeling. Crust everywhere. Dean is still on his knees, head sunken on the floor, his arms stretched out, breathing heavily. There’s no sign that he’s in pain. But Dean’s a demon, right? He will be fine.

Sam drags him up, and the cocky smile, the perfect hair, it’s all gone. Dean looks like he’s had the same otherworldly experience. It’s a sight that makes Sam chuckle.

“What are you laughing at?”, Dean asks, coming on his feet, gently swaying, but finally his wounds are closing up.

“You threatened to rip my throat out. With your teeth.”

“Not there yet, Sammy. Not yet.”

The situation is unreal, Sam feels unreal. He knows he will never be the same. Something’s broken inside him, crumbled - yet ready to expand again, into unknown territory.

He doesn’t remember the coercion, Dean’s betrayal - or was it Dean’s way of deliberating Sam?

Sam, leaning on the table, watches Dean come close and he leans in, a hand in Sam’s hair, gently pulling. Their kiss isn’t gentle, nothing will be gentle for a while. Teeth clash, the table scrapes along the floor and the throbbing of Dean’s pulse makes Sam rise up again. Dean bites Sam’s neck, sharp pain - and Dean drinks. The feeling is satisfying and roughening Sam up at the same time. He pulls his Knight close, closer, grabs him and bends him over the table, both still bleeding, Dean high from Sam’s blood.

“For a Knight of Hell, you’re very pliant”, Sam growls in Dean’s ear.

Dean chuckles.

“I just bend the knee to my King.”

Sam frowns.

“What do you mean?”

Dean hikes up and drags Sam to the mirror in the Dungeon.

“Take a look”, Dean hums, rich and satisfied in tone, “acknowledge who you are.”

Breathe in. Breathe out. First, Sam’s mossy eyes just look glassy, clear, beaming with desire for Dean.

Then he draws in his breath with a sharp hiss.

“You got your daddy’s eyes, Sammy.”

Sam’s eyes turned yellow.

#wincest #dean x sam #samdean #deansam #demon!dean #sin is sinning #tw:blood #tw:gore #tw:addiction #kink:blood #bottom!dean #powerful!sam #demon blood!sam #yellow eyes!sam #boyking!sam #tw:smut #tw:violence #tw:knives

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verobatto · 4 years

Text

Destiel Chronicles

Vol. LXVIII

It was a love story from the very beginning.

The Complex Destiel Mirrors from Bloodlines

9x20

Hello my friends! Here I am with another meta from this series, this time I will focus in Dabb's episode Bloodlines, who attempted to be a failed spin-off but ended up like just another episode from Supernatural, in which I recognized a complexity of mirrors and switching mirrors, as I called it.

I hope you enjoy the following meta, I had a lot of fun discovering each mirror and dialogue.

Ennis was the switching mirror of Sam and Dean

If you recall this character, was the one who at the beginning of the episode lost her girlfriend, killed by a monster.

He was about to get married with her, so it recalls me to Sam Winchester and Jesse.

Invaded by a strong revenge desire, Ennis had his first encounter with the Winchesters, and Sam had this exchange of words with him...

ENNIS [has apparently told most of the story]

And when I got to her... She...She --

SAM: There is nothing you could've done.

ENNIS: That supposed to make me feel better? Look, this thing wasn't human. So what are you gonna do about it?

This was so meaningful, because is Sam who's saying this words as if it was a contention and a hand on his own shoulder, for what just happened with this girl, dragging him back to the remembrance of Jesse.

It was certainty like talking with himself, and he will do it again in one more scene.

But before that, look at this...

[ENNIS enters a run down house, looks in closet, opens a trunk labeled N. ROSS. There is a photo of his dad in cop dress uniform inside. along with revolver and, hidden in box, silver bullets with something carved in them.]

Ennis was son of a Righteous Man, guided but his own disgrace, the boy will follow his father's steps. He will become his father. Just like Sam, he reacted very similar to him when Jesse died.

And now... The second scene in which I pointed Sam will talk with himself again...

ENNIS: Or what? Huh? You gonna hurt me? Kill the girl I love? Ruin my damn life?! Yeah, you're too late.

SAM: Ennis, listen. I get it. Believe me, I've been there. But what we do? It's messed up. So do yourself a favor and stay out. You can get hurt, too.

Sam wants a better life for this young kid, he knows hunting has not return.

Okay, now that we talked about Ennis like a Sam mirror, let's see when he switches to Dean mirror...

SAM: Wait, so this girl, she a shifter, too?

DAVID: Werewolf.

DEAN and ENNIS, together: Awesome. Awesome.

Dean is celebrating a couple of two different species, like shapeshifters and werewolves, or angels and humans *winks at the audience*.

Here, is so blatant. Ennis is now Dean, and why? As a tool for the narrative because they need them fighting like an old married couple with David (Cas mirror). Two characters that started as enemies, will end by working together.

Even Dean said this quote here...

ENNIS: No! Oh, hell no! Dude, he's a freakin' transformer.

DEAN: And sometimes you got to work with the bad guys to get to the worse guys.

(like him with Crowley, to get Abaddon or Cain killed)

DAVID: Dude, I'm right here.

DEAN: Yeah, I see you.

This bickery, in which Dean is involved, is developed to show us just that, mocking and bickery. Because is mostly Destiel Dynamics when they're mad at each other, or how they were at the beginning. And then, to make it more suggestive, Dean ends with this scene...

DAVID: I lost someone, too, okay?! But I'm trying here.

ENNIS: I'm sorry about your brother. He spoke about you at the end. He said, "David, I'm sorry. I didn't have a choice."

DEAN: All right, you guys can kiss and make up later. We got work to do. Come on.

That's the strawberry over the cake my friends... Yes... Two different species with some tension? Cas and Dean mirrors? And Dean asking him to kiss??? That's what we had been asking since Cas entered to that barn!

David, Castiel mirror and angels representations

David's house was representing Castiel and Heaven. His sister was the whole angels and heaven at once. She was mirroring duty, obedience to his father lines.

She was scolding David for being weak and for not taking responsibility as leader of the family.

But also she was talking about this...

DAVID: I'm not saying don't fight. I'm saying be smart. Find out what happened. And if Julian did this --

MARGO: Yeah, you'll what? David, come on. You don't want this. You ran away to be a human. You always had a soft spot for 'em. Look, you're out. Stay out.

David is a blatant Castiel mirror for his love for humanity and his love for Violet, another different species.

At the end of the episode he will come back to his family as a leader...

Margo, his sister again representing the Garrison as a foreshadow of Cas in the following episodes in which he will take risponsability of the angel to avoid a war.

Violet and Julian, two sides of Dean Winchester

It caught my attention that Julian, the head of the werewolves, was dressed just like Demon!Dean and it was like listening Toxic!Dean talking.

Then I saw Violet, and she was sweet and innocent and she believed in love. So I had this idea in my head, both of them were two different sides of the same coin: Dean Winchester.

We even had this scene:

VIOLET: Wait, Julian, stop --

JULIAN [handling her roughly] What do you think you're doing?! You're the bitch in this pack, princess. Your job is to be pretty and silent. So war, no war -- you don't get a vote.

In which toxic!Dean yells at Healing!Dean making him to shut up. Toxic Masculinity my friends...

And switching mirror again:

The classic Destiel mirror with the whole lines of the script from episode 6x20 was this scene...

(Gif credit @hefellfordean 👇)

Is a classic, blatant Destiel mirror that recalls us the first Destiel break up in s6. But hey... Wasn't David Cas and Violet Dean? Yes. But they switched. Just like this scene...

DAVID: Don't hurt her!

IRV: Why?! Hmm?! 'Cause she's your girlfriend? Hmm? Yeah, I heard you talking. Real sweet. Hell, it was almost human. Almost.

[IRV cuts DAVID with claw while VIOLET transforms into her wolf.]

First here... David is still Cas, and this reminded me to the torture he suffered in 9x09, but also it looks like the future torture he will suffer in 11x01, always Angels reproving his relationship with humans, but mostly, his feelings for Dean Winchester like something unholy.

Aaaand he switches to Dean now...

IRV: Here's the thing -- you can look human and act human... But deep down? You're just a monster.

This is talking about Dean, the monster, the Demon in which he will become. So is a foreshadow for that, and is too, how Dean feels inside of him.

To Conclude:

Episode 9x20 was constructed as a complex reflection of Dean, Sam and Cas.

Dabb swims through Sam's traumatic past, their daddy issues, and the forbidden romantic relationship between Cas and Dean.

He plays too with quotes and situations that reminds us to the first Destiel break up and the foreshadow of Demon!Dean.

I hope you like this, see you in the next Chronicles.

Tagging @metafest

@magnificent-winged-beast @emblue-sparks

@weirddorkylittlediana @michyribeiro

@whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan

@misha-moose-dean-burger-lover

@lykanyouko @evvvissticante

@savannadarkbaby @dea-stiel @poorreputation @bre95611 @thewolfathedoor @charlottemanchmal @neii3n @deathswaywardson @followyourenergy @dean-is-bi-till-i-die @hekatelilith-blog @avidbkwrm @anarchiana @dickpuncher365 @vampyrosa @foxyroxe-art @authorsararayne @anonymoustitans @mybonsai1976 @love-neve-dies @wildligia @dustythewind @wayward-winchester67 @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @deeutdutdutdoh @destiel-is--endgame @destiel-shipper-11 @larrem88 @charmedbycastiel @ran-savant @little-crazy-misha-minion @samoosetheshipper @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @nerditoutwithbooks @mikennacac73 @justmeand-myinsight @idontwantpeopletoknowmyname @teddybeardoctor @pepevons @helevetica @isthisdestiel @dizzypinwheel @jawnlockwinchester @horsez2 @qanelyytha @imjustkipping

If you want to be added or removed from this list, just let me know.

If you want to read the previous metas From this season, here you have the links...

XL, XLI, XLII, XLIII, XLIV, XLV,

XLVI, XLVII.

Buenos Aires, January 29th 2020 5:17 PM

#destiel #destiel chronicles #destiel meta #supernatural meta #season 9 meta #vol. XLVIII

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wwwafflewrites · 4 years

Text

The Dealbreaker

Chapter 8

Sam and Dean were grabbing jackets. The ones they already had were fine, but a few new options were nice. And of course Sam grabbed some flannels for his wardrobe.

Dean was the first to walk up to the register, and when he found the cashier his eyes went wild. “Sammy?!” he shouted.

Sam dropped what he was buying and ran back to the front of the store. “Dean?

“They’re dead.” Dean looked at the dead cashier and then down the hall, where the bodies of employees and customers were spread about the store. All with their eyes burnt out. “They’re all dead.”

Sam looked to Dean in panic. “What about..?”

Dean shook his head. “He took her. She’s gone.”

///

Your cell was very cramped. There wasn’t even a bed. Just a cold floor with a hole you presumed was supposed to be a toilet. Which was unfair, because you definitely could not aim like a guy could.

You were thankful you were still wearing your coat though. It was freezing and you didn’t know if you could handle the chill without it.

“Enjoying your stay? It is one of our finer rooms.” Lucifer’s voice echoed down the hall. “I love how most people think Hell is scorching hot. But I burn cold, baby.”

His red eyes flashed and he frowned. “Okay, you know what? Now is not the time for torture, I guess. See you later.” And he was gone.

You peered out of the bars, noticing the rows upon rows of cells. You reached out with your little to-go compact mirror you’d bought from the thrift store. You’d never imagine it would come in handy. You aimed it so you could read the labelling on the cells next to you. The cell to the right was labelled Y0000000377482’ and the next one down from it, Y0000000377481’. Well, that was stupid of them, you thought.

You also had a little pocket knife in your left pocket. One thing Lucifer did not do was check you for weapons. He didn’t really need to. Your cell could only be opened with a key, and you were immortal so you couldn’t kill yourself. You didn’t have a chance of escaping on your own.

But you did have a knife and a plan.

///

Lucifer finds Sam and Dean at a crossroad.

“Turns out I don’t even need to torture the girl to get to you both where I want you. I just need to take her.”

“We want you to open up Hell,” Dean told him flatly.

“No pun intended, but why the hell would I do that?”

“We’re making a deal here. Isn’t that what crossroads are for?” Dean said rather casually.

“Too bad I can’t have you dead in ten years. That would kind of kill the point of you being my vessel,” Lucifer told them.

Dean shrugs. “Then take something else. What do you really want, Lucifer?”

“You two in the cage where I rotted for years. You’d trade that just to find her?”

“Yeah. Deal.”

Just as Lucifer snapped to open the portal to Hell and to seal the deal, Sam dropped a lighter. Flames of holy oil made a circle around the angel. The devil laughed bitterly, “Oh, very funny, boys. But I can’t fulfill your deal like this. Now let me out before I skin you both alive.”

“You can’t, though, can you?” Sam asked. “Thanks for the portal though.”

Lucifer’s red eyes were murderous.

“You know, hiding out as a crossroad demon isn’t nearly as sneaky when you tell everyone what you’re doing. You like to take credit, and when you do, it exploits everything you’ve worked hard for,” Dean told him as the devil seethed. “Light him up, Sammy.”

Sam doused Lucifer in holy oil and threw him a match.

Sam and Dean had to admit, hearing Lucifer’s shouts of agony were just a bit satisfying.

When the flames died out, Lucifer was left panting on the gravel road.

Dean raised some cuffs in the air. “Found these in the bunker’s storage. Just sitting in a box, hogging space. With a little research I figured out what it was. Archangel cuffs. How convenient, yeah?”

Dean locked them tight onto the devil’s wrists.

///

You nervously placed the blade to your skin. It was all or nothing, right? You knew you couldn’t die, but it just felt so wrong and forbidden that you hesitated.

You cut carefully, making sure the lines were clean. They still hurt, but you bit back the pain and continued the work until you were satisfied.

Yeah, that would do it.

The blood you’d spilt you spent making an angel sigil, just in case Lucifer came back.

///

“Tell us where she is,” Dean demanded.

Lucifer loved to taunt him. “Why would I tell you?”

Dean had him grabbed by the collar, all sorts of intimidating, but the devil just smiled smugly.

The Winchesters hissed as little cuts appeared on their arms. Dean let Lucifer fall.

Sam’s eyes widened. “Dean, they’re words! She’s tell us something!”

It read: CELLHELL Y0000000377483’

“Oh, she is a genius,” Dean said, smiling widely.

They dragged Lucifer into the portal with them, not to fast to let him out of their sight.

///

Crowley was rather amused when Sam and Dean Winchester dragged Lucifer in by the collar. He couldn’t help it. Those two always managed to entertain him.

“So he’s completely contained?” He asked.

“Yes,” Dean said gruffly.

“Huh,” Crowley said. “Here’s the key to the cage. Lock ‘em up, boys.”

Sam piped up, “Hey, also, do you have any idea where, um, ‘CELLHELL Y0000000377483’ might be?”

Crowley smiled then. “I do.”

///

After they locked Lucifer in the cage once again, they walked along the endless hallways of ‘Y’.

Sam wondered aloud. “Y?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“I meant the letter, Y. What’s it for?”

“So we can find the cell a bit easier. You think we have the patience to look through that many cells?” Crowley rolled his eyes. “How many zeroes was it?”

“Seven,” replied Sam.

“Oh,” Crowley said, a bit surprised. “Oh, wow. That's… a very old cell. It must have been prepared a while ago.”

Dean gave him a look. “What does that mean?”

“What do you think it means? There’s only five zeroes now. Hell’s much more full than it used to be. Seven zeroes? That’s a pretty old cell.”

“You mean Lucifer’s prepared this for her for that long ago?” Sam repeated.

“Yes, Moose-boy. Keep up.” Crowley stopped, “Okay, we’re in the 0000000377000 range. Just keep going until your bloodshot eyes see 483. Oh, and just call 666 if you need anything. But not if you need a ride. I already have an Uber waiting for you two knuckleheads. And here’s a cell key; don’t lose it.”

“Thanks,” Sam said sincerely.

“You two got me my throne back, that’s all that I really care about.” While Crowley was a demon, there was something so human in his eyes. “And good luck.”

And good luck they had.

///

They found you sitting crisscrossed in your cell, bloody hand hovering over an angel sigil.

“Hey, he’s gone. You’re okay.”

Your arm had a trail of red dripping down to your elbow, forming a small puddle. “Sorry about the cuts—”

“Nothing Cas can’t fix. C'mon, let’s get home.” Dean smiled to himself.“I seriously cannot wait to hide that stupid moose.”

You smiled back.

The End

@vicmc624 @satans-0-spawn @rosaren2498 @unicornblood4ever

#supernatural fanfiction #supernatural #supernatural series #dean winchester #sam winchester #castiel #lucifer #reader #reader insert #crowley

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swiftlymoniquesblog · 4 years

Text

Perfectly Confused Angel- Part 12

Warnings: Depression, angst, heartache, pining, fluff

Word Count: 1599

A/N: This one was hard to write because of the pain Cas feels when it comes to the reader not knowing who he is but its only for a short time!

Also, this is how I imagine Castiel looks at his Honeybee ;)

Requests are open, tag list requests are open!

Masterlist| Prompt list| Previous Chapter

-Monique

Castiel’s POV

I can’t believe she doesn’t remember me! After all this time and everything we’ve been through individually and together, she’s forgotten who I am. She means the absolute world to me and I am a stranger. There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do to have her back; my honeybee. The way she looks at me now is vastly different than the way she used to look at me before all this stuff happened. I’ve never hated anyone in all my years but Chuck, he crossed a line. I know he’s trying to watch out for the angels and protect us or whatever, but, this just took it way too far. He can’t control who I love and who I want to spend the rest of my life with; it’s not up to him! But according to our ancient prophecy or whatnot, humans and angels are forbidden to be in romantic relationships. Why? It is beyond me but I have to do something to change the rules and be with whomever I love.

Things have been so awkward between her and me. She is extremely timid being around me and it’s sad for all of us seeing her like that. Somehow, her memory of Sam and Dean is still intact but me? That’s what Chuck took from me and he won’t get away with it.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Dean said, seeing y/n walking into the sitting room of the Bunker. She didn’t say a word, just looked over to him, nodding, and then made her way into the kitchen.

Dean must’ve noticed that I was watching y/n with longing eyes, my heartbreaking during this, so he nudged me to get my attention.

“Dude, just go talk to her.” He says and I sigh in response.

“She’s scared of me, Dean. Why would I keep pushing her if she doesn’t want me around?”

“Because she doesn’t know who you are, Cas, but you have to remind her. Remind her of who you are to her, make her remember you because we both know that you can’t keep going without her.”

Dean was right, I couldn’t continue my days on earth without her by my side. That’s why I wanted to marry her; she is the reason I am here now and I have to do anything and everything I can to make sure she knows that. So, I did what my heart was telling me to do; to see her.

I got up from the couch and went into the kitchen, seeing y/n making a cup of coffee for herself. I stayed back, giving her her space before I let her know my presence. She reached up above her head to grab a mug from the cabinet but she couldn’t reach. I watched her struggle to get the mug, standing on her tiptoes and stretching as far as her limbs would allow her. Her shirt lifted in the process, exposing her back and all I wanted to do was hold her because that was what I always did when I saw part of her exposed to me because I couldn’t believe just how lucky I was to have her.

“Here, let me help you,” I say, walking up behind her, startling her, but she moved to the side and watched as I easily grabbed the mug she wanted and handed it to her.

“Thank you.” She spoke softly and smiled the smallest smile I’ve ever seen, but it was progressing.

“You’re welcome,” I say and she went over to the coffee pot, pouring a few scoops of coffee grinds into the top. She stopped suddenly and froze, nothing seemed to be happening with her.

“You okay?” I ask her, still keeping my distance until she turned around.

“I…don't seem to remember how to do this. Can, can you help me?” She asked and I felt my heart rate speed up.

“Yes, of course.” I walked back over to her side and carefully finished her coffee for her, turning it on and stepping away from the counter to the table in the dining room.

“Hey, Cas?” I hear her voice ask, and she sat at the table across from me.

“Hmm?” I respond, looking up at her.

“So that girl you told me about.….” She trailed off, ashamed to finish her thought.

I smile at her wanting to remember who I was, without me having to say a single thing.

“What about her?” I trail off myself, smiling fondly of our memories together, those she didn’t even know of.

“Tell me about her.”

“We were deeply in love,” I state, a red tint forming on her cheeks at my words.

“My love for her was, is, something I never expected. I’m an angel and that’s part of what happened. I came down from heaven to earth to look after Sam and Dean. They became my mission. I was supposed to look after them, I saved Dean from perdition, and I was to guide them and help them fight the battles they fight regularly. My father thought it would be a good idea if I were to aid them and it was great but the best part was, I met her; the best thing that ever happened to me. She and I are like what you read about in books or see in movies. People think it’s typical or cheesy but it was what we enjoyed and that is what mattered. However, when heaven found out about our relationship, they wanted to stop it. So, my father came down here himself, which hasn’t happened in centuries, and he wiped her memory clear of me and everything we had.” I finish my speech and she begins to cry, realizing it was her I was referring to.

“Oh my God, it’s me. I….I’m your girl.” At this point, tears are falling fast from not only her eyes but also my own. And she did something I didn’t expect either; she hugged me. She stood up and rushed over to me, wrapping her arms around me and her tears soaked through to my shirt but I held her close to me the entire time. Her body was wracked with sobs as she slowly began to remember who I was. I wished more than anything to take the sadness and confusion away from her but I couldn’t so I did the next best thing. I just held her, rubbed circles into her back, and kissed her head, making sure she knew I was never going to leave her side.

“Castiel?” She asked, my full name sounding foreign.

I pull away from her and look down at her and she looks at me with teary eyes and she leaned up to kiss me. I was surprised by her sudden forwardness, a few days before she had been afraid of me, but now? She’s kissing me and I feel all the love I’ve had for her throughout our time together and I kissed her with all the strength I had in me because I love her. I hold her face in my hands, making certain she wouldn’t move from me, and I kissed her and kissed her until I couldn’t anymore.

“Marry me, y/n,” I spoke, looking at her and hoping she would answer.

“What?” She asked.

“Marry me. I was going to do something extremely romantic to propose but last time I was going to do that, I almost lost you forever. So I can’t waste any more time. Please, make me the happiest angel in the entirety of the universe, in heaven and earth, and become my wife, so I can spend the rest of my days reminding you of how much I love you, how important you are to me, and how much I need you in my life. What do you say?” My heart was racing in anticipation and nervousness until she spoke.

“Yes, Cas. Yes, please. Please. I lost you before, I don’t ever want to do that again. I love you so much. I want to be your wife, I want to love you as much as you love me and even though I can’t remember too much, I know I loved you and I know I want to work to remember everything about us but if you will, I want to remember. Please Castiel, please.” She finished her speech and she was crying once again. I never realized how much she wanted to marry me, how this whole thing terrified her. I couldn’t imagine what it was like for her to go through losing her memory, not knowing who she was or who anyone around her was, but she wanted to be with me regardless of not having all her confidence in me.

“I love you so much, Honeybee, and I promise I always will,” I say, opening the small velvet box that was hiding in my dresser drawer for weeks. The ring I chose was one I knew y/n would love. A large diamond sat in the middle, surrounded by smaller diamonds that trailed around the ring. It was exactly what she had wanted because her face lit up as I slid it on her finger.

“I love you too, Cas.” She says and brings our lips together once more.

“Lay with me?” She asks, and I nod, walking back to her room where we crawled into bed and snuggled in close to one another. I held her as close to me as humanly, or otherwise, possible making sure I would never lose her again.

*Second author’s note: I apologize for the late update! Being a manager in retail around the holidays is INSANE! But, I love this chapter! I will be trying to write more around the holidays as we get closer!

Third author's note: Yes I know I used this GIF before but its soooooo appropriate for this chapter!

Forever tags: @simpleboox @fandom-princess-forevermore @juju-la-tortue @forever-trapped-in-my-dreams @markofdean79

#castiel angel of the lord #castiel x reader #castiel x you #castiel fluff #castiel x y/n #castiel #cas fanfic

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the-fangirl-way · 5 years

Text

The Lasagna Pan

A/N: Hey guys so I wrote another Dean Winchester One Shot because I was feeling very inspired the other day while watching Supernatural and making a lasagna. I hope you guys like it!

WARNINGS: Smut, Fluff, Angst, sad stuff

Summary: The reader x Dean (I wrote it in first person) are hanging out while the reader makes a lasagna and things besides the lasagna, start heating up in the kitchen.

I leaned back on the hood of the impala, tipping the beer bottle back taking another swig, Led Zeppelin’s When the Levee Breaks playing out of the speakers in the background.

I didn’t even look up when I heard the door of the garage open and boots come shuffling across the floor towards me.

“What are you doing out here?” Sam’s voice echoed through the space.

“Thinking about Beth, and my parents.” I said turning to look at him.

“Beer?” I asked handing him a beer from the cooler beside me on the table.

“Sure.” He said taking it from me and twisting off the cap, climbing on the hood beside me.

“It’s been six months Sam.” I said taking another drink and he nodded.

“I know. But there’s still hope, she could still be out there.” He said taking a sip of his own beer.

“I just keep getting my hopes up and the leads all go cold. I keep thinking what if we never find her.” I said honestly and he shook his head.

“Don’t say that, she’s coming back, we’re gonna find her.”

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I promise you, we will find her, we’ve got Cas talking to angels to see what we can dig up, Bobby is digging, something will eventually come up.” He said reassuringly.

“I love your encouragement Sam, really.” I said and he smiled.

I had been with the Winchester brothers for six months now, ever since my sister Bethany had gone missing during a demon hunt in Colorado. They had stumbled upon the same case and were more than willing to help me find her, and in the meantime we continued to work any case that came our way. They had offered for me to stay in the bunker with them for the time being, Beth and I had never really had a permanent home anyway, and it was lonely staying in cheap motel rooms alone so I obliged. They had made it seem like home, or what I imagined home was anyway. I cooked them meals, we watched movies, it was almost as if I had a family again, all but Beth. Beth and I had been alone for the last eight years, ever since our Dad died on a demon hunt gone bad, our Mother died years before that to an evil even worse than demons, an evil by the name of cancer. Beth and I had known about demons and all the other evil things out there lurking in the dark by the time we were seven years old, our Daddy was a hunter, and Mama had been too until the sickness engulfed her. My grandpa had been a hunter, and his father before him, it went back centuries.

Beth and I were trained to be good with a gun and fast with a knife, we were taught how to read books and more importantly how to read people. Beth wasn’t stupid, or naive, so the day that she disappeared I knew had to be because something took her, and I had spent every day since then trying to find her and spending countless hours exorcising demons for information but no demon wanted to tell the truth, Castiel had spent days trying to find out information from the angels but no one wanted to talk. Bobby Singer, or rather Uncle Bobby as Beth and I frequently called him because he was more of an uncle to the two of us than a family friend, had spent all his time researching and reading to try and find her. We had all ran out and were getting tired, the trail was getting cold, and the boys could tell I was wearing thin.

“Hey, listen we will do whatever we have to for as long as we have to until we get some answers, okay?” Sam said and I nodded.

“Thank you for being so good to me.” I said leaning into him resting my head on his shoulder.

“You smell like cologne.” I observed, getting a whiff of his scent.

“Are you going somewhere?” I asked turning to look at him, taking notice then to his clean shaven face and combed hair.

“I uh, I was going to go out.” He said averting his eyes.

“Out?” I asked cocking an eyebrow.

“Yeah, to get a drink.” He said and I shoved his shoulder.

“Sam Winchester do you have a date?” I asked incredulously and red pooled into his cheeks.

“You do have a date! Who is she?” I asked shaking his shoulder playfully.

He cleared his throat and ran a hand through his hair.

“It’s Eileen.”

“Eileen!!” I shouted and his finger came up to his lips.

“Shh, Dean will hear you and you know he’ll never stop giving me crap for it.” He said and just then the garage door opened and Dean’s head popped out.

“Everything okay out here? I thought I heard shouting.”

“Yeah, everything’s totally cool.” I said and he eyed us, laying on the hood of his car drinking a beer.

“Why are you laying on the hood of my car? Is that my beer?” He asked and Sam slid off the hood polishing his beer off.

“Yeah so, I’m going out for a drink, I’ll be back later.” He said shooting me a look that said ‘please don’t say anything’.

“Okay, I’ll come with you.” Dean said stepping out the door pulling it closed behind him.

“You know actually Dean, I was going to make a lasagna, and thought maybe you’d want to lend a hand?” I asked and he eyed me.

“And pie.” I said and he nodded.

“Yeah, I’m staying, Sammy have fun.” He said fishing the impala’s keys out of his pocket and tossing them at Sam who caught them, smirking at me.

He got in and started it up, before putting it in to drive, I punched the garage door button and watched as he pulled out, closing it behind him and turning to Dean.

“Now, how about that pie.” Dean said and I laughed following him into the kitchen.

Sam and Dean Winchester had been some of the best things to ever happen to my life. Not long after I settled in with them, Sam, easily became my best friend. We enjoyed all the same movies, all the same books, we agreed on most, if not all things, and he was the easiest person in the world to talk to. I had spent more nights than I could count hanging out with Sam talking about our lives, about college because we had both attended, old friends, all the hard stuff that I could never tell anyone else. I knew Sam like the back of my hand and he knew me like the back of his, there was nothing we wouldn’t do for each other, and to find a friend like that was very special doing the kind of work we did. But Sam just understood me, and he listened to me, and he always knew exactly what to say.

Dean, on the other hand, Dean was my rock. Dean and I shared the same interests in music, beer, old cars, guns, and bad humor. There had been more nights than I could count that Dean and I would spend drinking whiskey and telling drunken secrets. We were alike in so many ways it was almost scary if not laughable, he was the older brother, I was the older sister, we both had obligations that we were made to uphold, and neither of us liked to be wrong, and because of that we argued almost daily; about everything. Dean challenged me in ways that Sam didn’t, Sam challenged me in ways that were intellectual and punctual, Dean challenged me in physical ways. We butted heads constantly about the way things should be handled. Dean was a shoot first, ask questions later kind of person. There were so many times Dean was the only voice of reason in a situation beyond my control, he would give it to me straight and have me deal with the issue at hand. He kept me level headed, he could and had talked me down from the jumping off point many times. Truth be told, I think even above Sam, Dean could see and understand things about me that Sam couldn’t, because he faced the same things himself. I loved Sam, but Sam and I shared a very different connection than Dean and I. We battled the same demons and because of that we had this undeniable connection that scared us both to the point of pushing each other away constantly.

Dean was dangerous, but as dangerous as he was the man was damn charming, and sinfully handsome. He was charismatic and funny, and he had a pair of green eyes that could make any woman squirm in her seat. Dean Winchester was a tall glass of water on a hot day, and my God had I wanted to take a drink so many times, but just like the apple in the garden of Eden he was forbidden fruit and I had not dared.

It would be easy to fall into that hole, to fall into bed with him and wake up feeling fulfilled but the moment would pass and just like the calm before the storm I knew it would end up ugly. So I kept my feelings to myself, pushed them away even and convinced myself that the feelings were purely sexual and nothing else and so far it had worked.

I entered the kitchen behind Dean who took a seat at the table.

“So, about this pie.” He said smirking at me and I laughed.

“Cherry, or apple?” I asked pulling the filling out of the cabinet.

“Apple. Definitely apple.” He said and I nodded, getting out all the ingredients for the pie.

I walked over to the refrigerator, I could feel Dean’s eyes on my back as I opened the freezer and pulled out a lasagna.

“Stouffers? Really?” Dean asked cocking an eyebrow as I opened the package and pulled out the frozen lasagna cutting slits into the film and preheating the oven.

“Yeah, what did you think I was going to make it too? Give me a break Winchester.” I said winking, tossing the box into the garbage.

He laughed and shrugged his shoulders, standing up to grab two whiskey glasses out of the cabinet.

“Want a drink?” He asked and I shrugged, he grabbed the bottle of Scotch off the counter and poured us both a glass, handing me mine and leaning against the counter to take a swig of his.

I took a drink, the liquor sliding down my throat reminded me of all the nights I spent up in Dean’s bedroom confessing all my demons to him. The air was still and quiet between us, as it was often, but it was a comfortable silence, I think we both enjoyed each other’s company without any obligations to have a conversation.

“So, where did Sammy really take off to?” Dean asked, cutting through the silence.

“He uh, went to see Eileen.” I said giggling, starting on the pie, mixing the ingredients for the crust.

“Huh, well, about time he got some.” Dean said swirling the liquor around in his glass.

The timer on the stove beeped and I placed the lasagna in the oven, setting a timer.

“I know it’s stupid.” I started, kneading the pie crust into the pan.

“What?” Dean asked looking over at me.

“The lasagna, truth be told I could have made it from scratch but,” I started, pouring the pie filling into the crust and covering it with the top layer of crust.

“My Mother used to make lasagna all the time when we were little girls, Beth and I. My Daddy used to rave every single time we had it about how she made the ‘best lasagna this side of the Mississippi’ I said quoting him,

“and he would eat half the pan by himself. It always made her feel good and smile real big, and I always loved to see them like that.” I said taking a drink of the scotch.

“I always begged her to give me the recipe and she would always tell me ‘one day when you’re older,’ I said smiling,

“and then one day I caught her taking the lasagna out of the package and transferring it to her own pan, it was Stouffer’s.” I laughed, remembering the memory of my Mama holding a finger up to her lips saying “shh, don’t tell your Daddy.”

I popped the pie in the oven and leaned against the counter with Dean.

“A couple of weeks before she passed, it was her birthday, and so I told everyone I was going to make lasagna just like Mama made, and I snuck into her room that evening and showed her the Stouffer’s box, and for the first time in months, a small smile came across her face.” I said finishing off my scotch, pouring another glass.

“That night at dinner, my Daddy raved about the lasagna, and told me I had done almost as good as a job on it as Mama had, and I’ll never forget the look me and Mama shared across the table, her half eaten tiny piece of lasagna, and she actually laughed, for the first time in months, maybe a year even. And I’ve never seen my Daddy’s eyes light up the way they did, they way they used to before she got sick and would make the lasagna herself.” I said and I felt a tear involuntarily slip down my face, I quickly wiped it away.

“I learned how to make lasagna years later by scratch, but I swear it never tasted as good as Stouffer’s.” I said laughing at my own expense and I looked up at Dean who was looking right back at me, eyes blazing.

“I think about her everyday, little things remind me of her, and how she was before.” I said remembering her, she was so beautiful, raven colored hair, big blue eyes, she always wore candy apple red lipstick and heels to match. She was funny, she had a laugh that was contagious and a smile that could light up an entire room.

“She would be proud of you, you know.” Dean said and I shook my head.

“She would be disappointed in me for letting Beth go missing.”

“What happened to Beth was not your fault, you need to quit blaming yourself. She’s out there, we’re going to find her.” Dean said defensively and I nodded.

“But I know, I know how it feels to feel like you’re responsible for someone else.” He said looking down at his empty glass, he did know how it felt. He was responsible for Sam the same way I was responsible for Beth. It seemed like Dean was the only person who understood that.

“I know Dean, you’re the only one who understands, and sometimes-” I said cutting myself off, I was not about to let myself go there, not with Dean.

“Sometimes what?” He asked and I took another gulp of my scotch, looking at him, his eyes full of concern, full pink pouty lips turned down into a frown of confusion, he was so damn delectable and he was within my reach, but I knew going there was a very, very bad idea.

“You can talk to me, you know that right? I mean, I know I’m not always the easiest person to get along with at times, and I don’t always say the right things but I know what you’re going through. I’ve been there.” He said and I felt the tears coming before I could stop them, I was usually pretty good at keeping myself together, but between the liquor and the memories of my parents it was all too much. Dean pulled me into him, wrapping his arms around me.

“Dean it’s just, everything is all so messed up, Beth is gone, my parents are dead, Beth might be dead too.” I rambled between broken sobs and he ran a hand against my back to soothe me.

“I know, it’s going to be okay, we’re going to figure all this out. I promise you.” He said and I sighed, lifting my head to look at him, his face inches from mine. I was too close for comfort but I couldn’t force myself to step away. His eyes burned into mine, his breath fanned across my face it smelled of whiskey and mint, it was dangerous territory.

“Dean I-”

He cut me off mid sentence by crashing his lips to mine, kissing Dean was nothing like I had ever imagined it would be, his lips were soft and molded into mine in a feverish way as he nipped carnevously at my mouth.

I pulled away and looked up into his eyes.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-” He started but I silenced him by kissing him again.

I felt his hands go to my waist where he lifted me up, wrapping my legs around his waist his hands went to my ass where he carried me out of the kitchen, down the hallway, to his room where he kicked open the door with this foot, all the while I peppered kisses along his jaw and neck, the stubble scratching my face.

He laid me on the bed and his body came down on top of me where he reconnected our lips, slipping his tongue into my mouth my hands found his hair, tugging at the roots gaining a throaty moan from Dean.

He pulled back, slipping his button up off his shoulders and yanking his shirt over his head.

I had seen Dean’s body many times, hell, I had stitched him up quite a few times myself after he got hurt during a hunt. But this was different, I studied his body like it was the first time I had seen it, covered in scars and etched like fine marble. Castiel’s handprint scathed across his shoulder, begging to be touched. I allowed him to pulled my shirt over my head to expose my chest to him, his hands jerked the cups of my bra down, spilling my breasts out to him where his hot mouth came down on one of my nipples where he sucked, a pang of pleasure shot between my legs.

I grabbed a fist full of his hair and yanked his head up to look at me, sucking on his neck his hand traveled down the front of my stomach to undo the button on my jeans, slipping down into my panties.

“Shit sweetheart, you’re soaking.” He panted, his voice gruff and sexual.

He began teasing my clit with his fingers, my head falling back, his lips connecting to my neck.

He pumped two fingers inside of me slow and torturous.

“Dean.” I cried out and he pulled his hand out of my panties, dragging my pants down my legs taking my panties with them.

He wasted no time undoing his pants, pulling them, with this boxers down his legs freeing himself from confinement. His cock stood proud and thick, and my core ached to have him inside of me.

He came back down on top of me and positioned himself at my entrance.

“If you don’t want to do this, tell me now.” He said his eyes pouring into mine.

I reached up and hooked my arm around his neck, pulling his lips to mine, giving him a long searing kiss.

He slowly pushed inside of me, filling me to the brim and I winced at the contact, it was raw, surreal, and I was lost in the passion.

He withdrew and filled me again, this time feeling better than the last, and it surprised me how slow and gentle he was being despite the kind of man I took him for in the bedroom.

He picked up the pace a little, my legs wrapped around his torso, bringing him closer to me.

He hooked his arms around my back and lifted me up, pulling out of me he pushed me to get on all fours, placing his hands on my hips before he pushed back into me, filling me once again, regaining the same pace as before; I could hear our skin smacking together.

Dean’s throaty moans combined with the feeling of him brushing up against my g-spot, made my legs begin to shake and a warm feeling build up in the pit of my stomach.

“Dean I’m, I’m-” I tried to say as a burst of white hot ripped through my body, searing every nerve ending.

My walls clenching around him made him get closer to his peak and I felt his thrusts getting sloppier before he let out a deep sexual moan and I felt him reach his climax inside of me, before he pulled out, gaining composure before getting up from the bed and heading to the bathroom, I heard the door close behind him.

I sat up, pulling the now messily strewed blanket to me, curling up in it and laying back on the pillow, my mind whirling with what had just happened.

I closed my eyes, seeing Dean’s body on top of mine once more, when I heard the bathroom door open and I felt the bed give as Dean climbed in behind me, pulling my body into his.

I held my breath, expecting to have to talk about what had just happened, but a few minutes passed and Dean’s breathing shifted and I knew he was asleep.

I slowly untangled myself from him, the room was dark now, and I was barely able to find my underwear and a shirt off the floor before heading to the door.

Once I was in the hallway I slipped on my underwear and looked down to see the shirt I had grabbed was Dean’s button up.

I laughed at the irony and slipped it around my body, buttoning it up as I headed towards the kitchen, I could smell the combining scents of lasagna and pie as it wafted through the air.

I pulled them both out of the oven, the cheese was bubbling and hot and the pie crust was golden brown. My stomach growled involuntarily at the smell of the food.

“Smells good.” Dean’s voice startled me from the doorway, he had taken the liberty of pulling on a pair of jeans and a t-shirt his hair was messy from our previous rendezvous.

“Nice shirt.” He commented and I looked down at his oversized button up hanging off of me hitting at the middle of my thighs.

“Sorry, it was the first thing I grabbed and-”

“It looks better on you than it does me anyway.” He said and I felt warmth in my cheeks.

I got out two plates and cut a piece of lasagna from the pan and offered it to Dean who took it.

“So are we gonna talk about it or..” Dean said leaning against the counter again.

“Talk about what, Dean.” I said cutting another slice for myself.

“I don’t know, the weather. What do you think?” He asked sitting the plate of lasagna on the table.

“I was upset Dean, I’d rather not talk about it-”

“Listen save the ‘I wasn’t thinking clearly’ crap okay, I’m not up to hearing it.” He said and I sighed.

“Well what do you want me to say Dean? That I wanted it to happen? That I’ve wanted it to happen since the day I met you? That I have to spend everyday I’m here feeling guilty about the fact that I should be focusing every thought I have on finding Beth and instead I’m spending it trying not to act on the feelings I have towards you?”

He opened his mouth to say something but I wasn’t finished.

“You and I connect so much Dean, more than Sam and I ever have, and it scares the shit out of me okay? Because I can’t get tangled up in you. I can’t be part of a little fling that after a few romps in the sheets becomes nonexistent. I refuse to be one of those women you take home and never call again.” I said and he shook his head.

“Do you honestly think that’s what that was? That you’re just some cheap fuck that I’m just going to toss you to the side when I’m done?” He asked incredulously.

“It’s what you do Dean, you use women to get what you want and then you dump them like they didn’t mean anything to you.”

“Because they don’t.” He answered simply, and although I knew it was the truth, it still hurt to hear.

“But do you think that you’re just one of those women? You, you’re so much more than that. And yeah, maybe I went about it the wrong way but I’m scared as hell here. I’ve never been in love before.” He said and those words all but knocked the wind out of me.

“Love?” I asked and he ran a hand over his face, something he had a habit of doing when he was deep in thought or nervous, or in this case; both.

“We have this thing here, I don’t fully understand it and it does, it scares the hell out of me, because every time I get close to anyone something bad always happens. You are the only woman I’ve met who hasn’t immediately wanted more, and so I thought if maybe I got you just once then it would be over and the feelings would go away. But they didn’t, and they won’t.” He said crossing the room to me.

“I keep telling myself that if I knew you didn’t feel the same way it would be easier to walk away from.” He said, his eyes burning into mine, holding me in place.

“I love you.” He breathed his hand cupping my face.

“I love you, Dean.” I said, letting out a breath I didn’t know I was holding.

He lifted me up and placed me on the countertop, planting a long kiss on my lips before pulling away, his forehead resting against mine.

“I can’t promise it’s going to be great, I don’t know what I’m doing or where this is going to go.” He said honestly and I wrapped my legs around him bringing him closer to me.

“I think you’ll do just fine, Winchester.” I said kissing him again, this time deepening the kiss, his hands wrapping around my waist bringing me into him.

A throat cleared across the room and there stood Sam, eyes wide, lips slightly parted.

“I can explain.” I said quickly, Dean’s face holding a smirk.

“Honestly,” Sam started, “I don’t want to know.” He said smiling a cheeky grin.

“Hey Sammy, how’s Eileen?” Dean asked and Sam’s eyes widened at me like he couldn’t believe I told him.

“He figured it out.” I said and he laughed shaking his head.

“We prepare food there.” He said gesturing to the countertop where I realized I was still sitting, in only Dean’s shirt. Embarrassment pooled in my cheeks as I hopped down tugging the shirt down my legs.

“I’m going to uh, change.” I said heading down the hallway to my bedroom door.

I heard Dean’s voice before I closed the door.

“Hey Sammy, try some lasagna, it’s the best this side of the Mississippi.”

I smiled to myself, I wasn’t any closer in finding Beth but I had new hope, for finding my sister and for what the future held.

#dean winchester #Jensen Ackles #dean winchester smut #dean winchester one shot #dean winchester pie #sexy dean winchester #jensen ackles smut #sam winchester #sam winchester one shot #sam and dean #dean and sam #dean winchester fan fic #winchester brothers

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jay-and-dean · 5 years

Text

Je ne te mérite pas (I don’t deserve you) Chapter 4.

DeanxReader

Serie MASTERLIST

Warnings : Smut, swearing, Fluff, mention of violence.

Future warnings : Smut, Fluff, Angst, Violence.

Words : 5069 (I got carried away sorry...)

Chapter summary : The more Dean knows her, the more he needs her close. The more he spends time with her, the less he can keep his hands to himself...

Serie Summary : Dean and her can’t be together.If you ask Dean, he would list so many reasons : Her age, first. Not like she was a kid anymore, but he remerbers picking her from highschool not so long ago. Then Jody, damn, the girl is like a daughter to her, what kind of friend would he be ? He’d talk about her boyfriend and how he’s the opposite of himself. Of course he would expose how poisonous he is, how dangerous it is to be around him. He’d say he want to keep her away from nightmares… And he would conclude with certainly that she just won’t ever love him, why would she ?

If you ask her, she just might whisper with a heartbreack in her voice : “I don’t deserve Dean Winchester”.What if they where wrong ?

Note : It is my first time writting in english, so, forgive the errors.

Dean Pov

She eats like she haven’t in three days, to be honest she barely did.

It took more than 14 hours in the car to go from the bunker to New Orleans, where that witch was using dark magic to kill people. We only stopped once on our way, sharing a motel room with Sam and Jack. She slept with Sammy on the biggest bed, I slept on the sofa, not getting much rest, looking at her all night, her body turned toward me, asking myself what she must be thinking of, how she could be so unfazed about what happened between us. She’s just all natural and chilled ever since the morning after, like nothing happened. I can barely think of anything else...

She eats in silence, Sam is talking about the case, about how she did great figuring out everything by herself, how impressive her knowledge on magic is. And I try not to stare while I stuff my mouth with that huge bacon burger I ordered. I agree with Sam, she’s impressive, she’s smart and cultured and brave. She guessed what magic was used in a heartbeat and found a way to counter the same day, avoiding four deaths. I agree with my brother but there is something else on my mind... I thought having sex with her would ease my desire but it didn’t. That was a huge mistake because now I know how she feels, I'm an addict.

I tried to be reasonable : maybe it is just how forbidden this is, maybe it is just how secret and chill she acts, maybe I'm just an old creep. But the fact is, I just can't get her out of my mind. I'm obsessed by her. And what scares me is that's not only on a sexual way.

The waitress interrupt us and asks with a strong French a accent if we want anything else.

"Oh, vous êtes française ?" Y/n asks.

And they start talking, leaving us completely oblivious to what they are talking about. I heard her speaking French before, when she curses mostly, and sometimes in her sleep, but never during a conversation. It makes her even more secret and mysterious. When the waitress leaves, I look at her :

"Hey Y/n, tell me a secret in French."

She laughs and drinks in my coke.

"Why ? Why a secret ?" she asks taking a fry from my plate.

"I won't understand, but it will motivate me to try learning."

She looks at Sammy and Jack, then at her plate, and starts to touch her lips with the tip of her fingers. She sights and says :

"Le problème c'est que je ne dirai jamais mon secret à voix haute, même pas dans une langue que tu ne comprends pas." she said it so quickly I didn't memorized it like I had planned to.

Your Pov

You're in the front seat of the Impala, looking for a specific tape on Dean's box. He's driving, hands on the wheel, eyes on the road, the headlights emphasizing the road markings that reflect in his pupils.

Sam fell asleep and Jack is listening to your Ipod, smiling. You loaned him your books and music so that he can discover other styles. Nothing wrong with classic rock, but he never got the chance to hear anything else.

Each time you turn your head toward Dean, a smile appears on your lips so you try to look at the box, but you found the tape, and it's been almost twenty minutes, you have to say something, or pretend to fall asleep.

"Nice choice" says Dean hearing the tape you choose playing.

He smiles at you, landing his beautifully wrinkled eyes on your face. A vivid daydream conquers you : you see yourself leaning on him to kiss his jaw, him wrapping his arm around you shoulders, gently rubbing his stubble on your forehead. Without realizing it you sight.

"You okay sweetheart ?" he asks, putting his hand on your knee for a second.

This is torture, you want to kiss him so bad it hurts. Your lungs refusing to breathe deeply enough as long as your breath won't be used to tell him how much you love him. You can still feel him inside you when you concentrate on your memories, but the feeling of belonging to him is fading away. Your stomach aches, it is worse now, everything is worse ;every time you thing you couldn't love him more, you're wrong.

"Hey, Y/n, you want me to stop ?" he looks so concerned suddenly.

"No, no Dean, why ?" but the answer to that question hits you when you hear your own voice : it's hoarse and sad.

You lift your hand to your cheek and feel it's wet. Fuck. You're crying.

"Tell me" he says.

"It's nothing, I'm just tired." You dry your eyes and smile.

"I don't believe you. Please don't withdraw into yourself like you always do. Talk to me. Please” his voice is so serious and deep, you look down, trying not to cry again.

“I don’t do that…”

“You always do.” He declares. “I know you’ve been through hell but don’t be so harsh. Each time we try to reach you, you shut us out. Y/n you’re family…”

“No I’m not” you cut him. “I’m your friend, family is a big deal, Dean, don’t use that word excessively…” you say low, trying not to sob.

“You see…” he looks at you with sad eyes. Sincerely sad, and it is all it take to make a tear shed on your face.

“I’m just saying…”

“Don’t you trust me ?” he asks.

“I do.”

“Doesn’t sound like it” he states sorry.

“I do. I really do. I just don’t… trust myself.”

That’s it, you’re sobbing, he gently pulls over and stops the car. You stay still, even when he leans to you. He takes you in his arms and squeezes a little, putting one of his hand on the back of your head, keeping it between his shoulder and his neck. You can’t be silent anymore, you burst into tears.

“It’s okay sweetheart, it’s okay…” he says, wrapping you completely.

You grab his coat with both hands, ignoring Sam and Jack worried looks. You cry louder and louder, it’s like the dam broke. You cry because of your pain and for the family you lost, for the family you found and for the nightmares. You cry because your scars are ugly, because you don’t know how to deal with Sasha’s love without hurting him, because you are so damn angry all the time. You cry because you love him so much it kills you and because it is the best thing in your life.

“It’s okay” he says very low. “She’s just tired.” And you notice Sam’s hand on your shoulder.

“I’m… so… I’m so fucking… angry Dean…” you sob.

“I know” he says rubbing your back.

“He took everything… He… my body… I…” You can’t talk clearly but still try to. You want to open up to him, you need him to save you from drowning in yourself.

He kisses your forehead and you feel his chest tense, like he tried not to cry, his breathing short. You know Sam and Jack are staring, but right now there is only Dean.

“All those… thoughts and all those fee… feeling Dean. I can’t… I don’t know… How am I supposed to deal…”

“That’s the thing b… Babygirl, you’re not supposed to deal with this alone.” He says squeezing a little more.

You feel something new, like a tension in your belly is fading away, though you didn’t even know it was there all this time. The anger finally shuts up and you notice you lived in his din for so long. All there is left is sadness, it’s heavy, but it’s silent, relaxing.

“Je ne te mérite pas…” you whisper, your lips agaist his neck.

Dean Pov

Back to the motel, I took a bedroom for the three of us, Sam, Jack and I, so she could relax, but she asked me to stay with her a little...

We spent the night talking, really talking.

She told me about France, about the few memories she has of her mother, told me how strange it is to her that she remembers perfectly the customs and French and the taste of food there, but how she forgot most of her personal memories. The name of her mother sounds strange to her, like it was remote, she doesn’t remember anything about her father. She told me how she never fitted in, even then, because of her abilities, how lonely she was.

Then she told me about Father Joey. About that resignation, that strong instinct of survival and how it scares her that she never rebelled, because she was seeing the others die. She told me about the torture… She cried again, showing me one of her scars, a cross on her upper thigh, just below her ass cheek. This was the worst, she couldn’t sit for weeks and it became infected, she got fever and thought she would die. She talked about this one for a long time. It was painful to hear, and I had to bite my cheek not to cry, mostly because I hate thinking of her pain, but also because I can relate to this kind of pain.

What I hadn’t see coming was me opening up to her, talking about hell in details for the first time, about my mom when she died, when she came back… I hadn’t anticipated that I would have so much to say about physical pain, how desperate I feel when I get new wounds before the last one are healed… I hadn’t anticipated how easy it would be to talk to her.

She took me in her arms and told me how brave she thinks I am…

She said she was sorry. Sorry to be wary and sorry she hurt Jody. Sorry I thought she didn’t trust me. There is nothing to be sorry about, she’s perfect. I couldn’t tell her but I kissed her forehead and gave her my best smile.

I told her I’m sorry for that night, sorry I couldn’t stay away. She took my hand and locked her damp eyes in mine

“Dean, I’m not a child. Stop acting like you did this alone. I wanted this to happen”, she said.

So I talked about Sasha, and she became nervous. At first I thought it was because she cheated on him, but she started explaining their relationship to me. It was a shock and I felt so bad for him. What it must be to be in love with her, hearing her constantly saying that she doesn’t love you, that she has sex with other dudes ! I’d be such a mess.

She asked for advice… for the first time I heard her ask for help. But I couldn’t help her, who am I to tell her to break up with him ? Am I even sure I would give her that advice for the good reasons ? Shit, I’m so lost.

I wanted to know her and now she finally tells me everything, it’s like she let me in, opening her heart completely. I should be thrilled, instead of that I’m terrified.

She’s hunched, arms around her knees, back against my chest. We gave up sleeping and started watching TV half an hour ago to doze before Sammy knock on the door. She’s laughing quietly at the cartoon she’s watching, and I’m breathing her hair discreetly, asking myself why Jody thought she was so in love with Sasha.

“I should get up and take a shower” she says clouded.

“It’s five. Sammy won’t knock until six or seven. Don’t you want to sleep a little ?”

“I’ll sleep in the car, and I’ll sleep in my bedroom. Right now I just don’t want to sleep” saying that she turns her head toward me, her nose an inch away from my mouth.

She looks at me and my heart start beating faster. I want her. Really bad. I could rip her closes off and take her here and now. None of those open discussions and friendship display have changed anything. Her mouth looks delicious and I want to feel it everywhere on me, I crave her hand on my crotch, my mouth watering at the idea of going down on her, sinking my nails in her thigh to keep her still while she falls apart…

I can feel it, the control go numb, and I lift my hand toward her.

Your Pov

His hand comes up and brushes your throat, his thumb coming to your cheek. You're captivated by his face, looking at you so closely. You keep your head turned toward him, your back against his firm chest, his hand lingering on your jaw and neck.

What if he wanted you again ? Why ? Your eyes must still be red from crying all the tears, your hair messy, shadows under your eyes...

He sighs deeply and his hand travels along your collar bones, he leans on you and plant an open mouth kiss on your jaw. Without realizing it at the time, you squeeze your thighs together, feeling heat invade your all body.

"Fuck" he says. "You're blazing..."

He kisses your jaw again, his hand traveling down your shirt and slipping under it, immediately coming to cup your breasts, surprised to find no bra -you took this uncomfortable shit off the last time you went to the bathroom-. You moan and shift a little, to let one of your leg fall onto the mattress. His second hand comes on your thigh, preventing you from squeezing your legs again. He breathes fast you feel his heart beat like crazy. Your brain doesn't know what to do with all that : Dean is turned on, why ? Why you ? Is it because of something you did ? Did you tease him again ?... You can't think straight and you don't want to. You just need him.

You stretch your neck to reach his lips and he turns his head to kiss you. Kissing Dean again... Having his perfect plump lips on yours again. You want to turn around to face him, and kiss him all you want but his hands keep you still. You whine but he just smiles.

"What are you trying to do, Y/n ?" he asks.

You try to shift toward him but you can't move.

"What do you want ? " He says caressing your nipple with his thumb, and letting his other hand go up your inner thigh.

"You..." is all you can say in a plaintive moan.

He groans and wraps his arms around your chest to lift you just enough to push his left leg on your side, sitting you between his thighs. He takes one of your breast firmly in his huge palm, pressing your body against his. His erection leans on your lower back, and he thrusts it with restrain. You don't want him to refrain, you want him to take all he wants, to give him all he needs, so you roll your hips, pressing your ass against his crotch.

"Y/n..." he moans. "Fuck..."

And suddenly the hand on you thigh slips pass the waistband of your pants and in your panties. You jump and put a hand on his wrist like you wanted to stop him, but you can't, and you don't even try hard.

His middle finger teases you, his teeth come to you neck, nibbling. You start to pant, feeling you pussy soaking his hand. He gently caresses your clit then puts his finger inside you, making you moan and shake and pant.

"Dean... why..."

You want to ask him why he doesn't seek satisfaction for himself instead but you can't talk. He adds his forefinger inside you and goes as deep as he can, thrusting slowly but with force and determination.

"Ah !" you groan, letting your head fall back on his shoulder.

His mouth is on your jaw, kissing, biting ; and the palm on your chest comes up, wrapping again you throat without squeezing. His waist moves by itself, seeking release.

"Dean... Dean take me..." you moan but it only makes him bend his finger inside you and touch your clit with his thumb.

You can't speak anymore, you just breath heavily, mouth agape, head on his shoulder, eyes closed. Your body is trembling and your pussy is throbbing around his fingers harder and harder.

"Please..." you just beg in a wail.

"Yeah Baby ?" he asks panting.

"Please..." you whisper, not even able to think anymore.

"Fuck, Y/n. Open your eyes".

You try to obey but you can't control you body anymore."

"I ca... I can't !" you whine.

"Look at me" he insists. "Look at me when you come".

You open your unfocused eyes and just see his sweaty face before all goes blank.

Maybe this is heaven.

Maybe you're dying.

You couldn't care less.

Your body is feeling everything and nothing anymore.

It's perfect.

Then you come back slowly. His fingers still inside you, his mouth on yours, kissing your parted lips, still stroking his crotch to your back. He withdraw his fingers and it's like nothing's keeping you upright anymore, you slide a little.

Then he gets up in a flash and locks himself in the bathroom, slamming the door loudly. You look at the door in shock and try to get up, soaking your own thigh, your legs numb. When you reach the bathroom door, you hear him moan and groan, you even hear the noise his hand makes against himself brutally. You knock on the door.

"Dean... open the door."

He doesn't answer.

"Dean, please let me help..."

But he never comes out or answer and you sit against the door, completely lost, now hearing the shower run.

When Sammy knocks on the door, Dean gets out all clean and ready almost making you fall, he opens the door to Sammy telling him you need to shower because he called dibs in the bathroom, and follows his brother outside.

Dean Pov

Everything hurts. My body is covered in bruises and my brain tortures me.

She went to Sasha's and stayed a few days in the bunker alone because she had exams almost each days during two weeks. She's not here and it makes me sad, like all of the world was empty. I can't fully control my body anymore, everything makes me think of her falling apart in my arms, pleading me, and I get boners every twenty minutes. Yesterday, a bag I was holding squeezed my fingers, the one I used to make her beg, and I had to touch myself before breakfast...

So I hunt. I hunt and fight violently, ripping flesh and breaking jaws. It need it.

I see how Sammy looks at me, worried, like when I had the Mark of Cain, only I don't have it anymore. I'm only fucking obsessed with the most forbidden girl in my entourage.

"Okay, what is it ?" he finally asks on the way to our next hunt.

"What ?" I ask innocently, keeping my eyes on the road.

"This ! You !" he makes fun of me. "Can't we just take a break ? This nest sounds huge, couldn't we send more numerous hunters ?"

"Call backup if you think you have to but I'm going" I say making him sigh.

He looks at me, turn the music down and asks :

"Does it have to do something with Y/n?"

"What about her ?" I ask trying not to sound panicked.

"I don't know, you two seem very close and..." he tries but I cut him.

"She's our friend, yes, and ? I'm not the one constantly texting her..."

I like that they text so much, because it's a way to have news of her several times a day without asking myself, and it allows me to use that argument.

I turn the volume up.

__________________

Okay maybe I went too hard on myself. Taking this hunt was a bad idea, I was tired, I was reckless. I'm hurt. Sam is making stitches on my back, where the glass cut my skin, I see what he is doing on the mirror, and I see the huge bruises covering my entire back. I wince when he pulls a shard out of my flesh.

"You are in pieces" he says. "You should clean up your face, it's cut everywhere. That was a bad idea. We're going home now, maybe Y/n can convince you to rest".

If you knew Sammy...

The journey is long and painful, my back hurts like a bitch, my left shoulder can't move, my lower lip is so cut I bleed when I try to speak, my knee aches and I limp. I feel like I'm ground inside, and I think of her...

When I open the bunker door, I hope she's awake. I just need to see her, talk to her maybe, know how her exams went, let her ease my pain with her smile. But it's late and there's no light on...

Sam takes a big glass of water in the kitchen and says he's heading for bed. I look around, and sit at the kitchen table, she must be sleeping, good for her. I should go to bed too but knowing she's just there frustrate me too much, I haven't seen her in almost three weeks. I get up to take a beer when my phone rings.

"Let me see how bad it is" her text says. She's not asleep !

"What ?"

"Sammy told me you were wounded..."

I put my beer down and head for her room, feeling my willpower fade.

I knock and she opens the door, wearing a flannel of mines, her legs naked. Did she do it on purpose ? I mean, she knows what she does to me, doesn't she... The warm light of her bedside lamp pacify me. Seeing my face, she looks hurt and open the door widely so I can come in. I wanted to tell her many things but I stay silent, looking at her examining my face with frown brows.

"Does it hurt ?" she asks quietly.

"Yeah..." I admit, like I don't have to be brave, like I just won't lie to her.

And I turn around. She understand and raise my shirt, revealing my badly bruised and cut back.

"God, Dean" she says, gently brushing her fingers on my arm.

She skirts me and stand in front of me with a really pained look.

"Why ?" she asks.

"It's the job Y/n..."

"No, you should have called me. Dean..." she nestles her face on my chest. "And you're so cold... Dean this is unfair" she whispers.

I put my hand on her head and try not to think about kissing her. I feel like I could cry, being here is the only thing I want, but I have to go.

Before I can move she takes a step back and starts unbuttoning her flannel looking me in the eye. I try to speak but she lets it fall at her feet, leaving her in only her black panties, her body on full display for the first time. Her breasts I love so much, so soft and round, her belly, her belly button, her waist, soft and calling me. This body I dream of all the time, this body I know by heart by studying it through her clothes, this body I get to see for the first time... She 's got scars everywhere, like freckles, some tiny some larger, representing symbols, I don't care about them, hell I love them, because they are part of her, because it is who she is. I take the time to look at her, biting my lips to prevent myself from kissing her.

She takes a step toward me and takes my shirt off. I wince because dressing and undressing is really painful these days, but she makes it easier.

"Y/n... This is..."

"Shhh, let me take care of you for once" she whispers, and then she kisses my shoulder, right below stitches I have there.

She puts a hand on my chest and kisses my jaw where it is purple, then she kisses my lips, where it's not cut. I take a deep breath and kiss her back eagerly, hurting myself.

"Hey..." she whispers, brushing her thumb on my bleeding lip. "Why are you so cold ?".

I don't know, exhaustion maybe... I shrug but that hurts to. She slowly wraps her arms around my neck and play with my hair, pressing her almost naked body on mine, her breasts crushing against my skin. She's so warm, so soft, everything my life is not...

She makes me take a few steps back until I have no choice but to sit on her bed, and she stays standing before me. She comes between my legs and her beautiful chest is to the height of my eyes, I lean my forehead on her skin, and wrap her by the waist, taking her softness and her warm as close as possible. I could cry. She strokes my hair and my neck gently, letting me kiss her chest and her stomach, and exploring her back with my two hands.

We've never been so intimate. I'm not in a rush, I could cuddle all night, forget I can't have her, forget about Jody and everyone else, forget this is wrong.

She slowly falls on her knees and her face is just below mine, I kiss her again. And again. She smiles on my lips and puts her hands on my thighs, rubbing them gently, massaging my sore muscles. Then she starts unbuttoning my pants and I sigh at the idea of her touching me there.

"Y/n..."

She slips her hand on my jeans, touching me through my boxers. Fuck she's killing me. I'm so hard it hurts ; I wince and close my eyes. She stops and take my pants down, and then my underwear and let them hang on my calves, stuck by my shoes, making me lift my ass for a second. She kisses my stomach and gets back on her feet, watching me.

Am I to old for her, not brawny enough ? Maybe she though I looked like Sam underneath, I don't, I'm pale and a little chubby here and there... Oh, she's looking down...

"I..." I try to find something to say but she puts a finger on my lips, and kisses me.

She takes her panties off and I can feel my mouth watering. Fuck, I can see how wet she is from where I am, a discreet drop rolling on her inner thigh. How can she be so turned on by me ? How can it be so simple ?

She straddles me and I can't take my eyes off of her pussy, but she wraps her hand around my cock and I close my eyes. For a second I hear only my own breath, and feel only the bolts of electricity her fingers send through my entire body. I imagined that so often : that it was her hand stroking me, not mine.

I open my eyes and meet hers, they're wet and she's biting her lips, why do I see so much emotions on her face ?

"Y/n, I... you don't have to..." I moan but she cuts me by kissing my lips carefully, to avoid hurting me.

"I want you so much Dean..." she whispers getting closer, and this sentence almost makes me come in her hand.

"Then have me" I say touching her ass and kissing her.

"It's about you Dean... what do you want ?" she asks in my ear, still stroking me gently.

I can't lie to her, I don't want to, so I kiss her lips, her jaw, her collarbone, and I moan :

"I want to be inside of you."

Where it's safe and warm and perfect...

She whimpers and kisses me three times before lining herself with me. She sinks slowly and her breathing fasten instantly, I focused on her body swallowing me. Once her pelvis touches mine, she stops and closes her eyes for a moment, then she starts rolling her hips, sending me to heaven.

I look at her, at her beautiful, sweaty, flushed face, and take her in my arms kissing her lips again, wrapping her with one arm, touching her breasts with the other.

Despite myself I start meeting her thrusts and she clings to my neck, panting.

"Y/n... Oh God, Y/n..." I say low, unable to form a sentence.

The pain is gone, it's all gone. I take her ass in my hand and thrust a little deeper, making her groan. I feel it, how close she is, how lost her eyes are, I love this. I want to see it, I have to hold on a little longer. I want to stay inside her forever but I also want to fall of that cliff so bad...

"You..." she moans out of breath, taking my head in her hands, trying to kiss me but failing when I thrust deeper, her mouth open against mine. "Ah ! You..."

Suddenly her body shakes and burns, her pussy throbbing hard around me, making me fall of the cliff. I still deep inside her and feel I'm filling her up, my head falls back and I open my mouth, unable to make a sound.

We stay like this for a moment, breathless and nested. I should go but I just can't, so I kiss her lips again, and take her with me on the bed. I can't press on my back, so I lie on my stomach and she grazes my wounds with her fingers, kissing my skin now and then.

"It can't become a habit" I murmur, hating my own voice.

"Yes" she says and lay her naked body besides me, looking into my eyes.

I hope I don't fall in love with you, Y/n.

#supernatural #dean winchester #smut #dean x reader #spn #dean winchester fic #fluff #dean reader

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homesoutofhuman · 6 years

Text

Blue Jeans: John Wick/reader Chapter 1/?

GUYS! I couldn’t resist, had to write a little something for my bikerboy!John Wick headcanon dream. Mainly because Keanu on a motorbike just does shit to me.

Warnings: This might seem a bit out of character for John Wick but is an AU so bear that in mind. Swearing, small mentions of blood and reader is a sweetie pie so if that dynamic is not your cup of tea be aware.

-----

You balance your bag of groceries on your hip, trying not to spill your takeout coffee. A tall figure catches your eye, menacing in a bike helmet which means you cannot see his face.

He parks a motorcycle in front of your car, all sleek metal, with a large headlamp at the front giving it a vintage feel. In his leather jacket, white t-shirt and blue jeans he looks like James Dean come back to life. You run up to him to tell him you are just about to leave and need room to get out.

“Excuse me...could you please move your bike…?”

You are about to go on to explain that you’re afraid you might scratch it, your parking skills have never been good, but the man, for he is one, wrenches off his helmet and looks down at you with very pissed off dark eyes.

“Oh excuse me! Of course Princess, let me move my tiny bike that’s somehow in the way of your massive petrol guzzling car!”

Your cheeks go hot and you fumble with your door, trying to get inside and out of there as fast as possible.

The man holds his helmet under his arm and walks his bike away so it is no longer right next to your wheels.

You wave a thanks to him, burning with embarrassment and pull out..

...straight into the back of another car.

There's a screech of brakes and the next thing you know you’re sitting on the pavement, your nose streaming blood and the biker leaning over you.

Various swear words that would make your grandma blush are flowing freely from his mouth as he crams more pieces of tissue up your nostrils.

“Pinch it…” he orders you and you try to comply. “like this…”

His fingers pinch the bridge of your nose, precise and nimble and so confident in touching you.

“Ouch!” You say, looking at him with accusing round eyes “What happened?”

“You slammed your brakes so hard you hit your head on the steering wheel.”

“What about the other car?” you ask him, looking around in panic.

He waves off your concern “Absolutely fine. Asshole barely stopped. Got his insurance details.” he says, before you can ask. “You seemed like the type to want to them.”

You try to decipher his meaning but your head is too sore. He is very close, and you can smell him, a combination of sweat, leather and what must be his cologne. It’s not helping your dizziness.

“Listen..” he says, looking down then back up through his fringe “I can’t help thinking this is partly my fault, seeing as I yelled at you and all…”

You shake your head earnestly, but somehow that causes your nose to set off bleeding again and he swears.

“I think we need ice. I only live up there…” he gestures towards the nearby high-rise “why don’t you come and get cleaned up?”

Your instinct is to decline, but your car is in a state and there is blood all over your new wool sweater, you figure you look a fright, so nod, and he helps you up, his arms flexing in his leather jacket as he easily takes your whole weight.

“Can I know your name?” you say, a little curtly to the stranger, who turns and flashes you a toothy smile, letting you into his apartment block.

“It’s John…original huh?”

You supply your own and he nods “pretty…” before turning away and securing you both inside a very unsafe looking metal elevator.

You glance around and it is starting to dawn on you that you’re about to go into a strange man’s apartment in the middle of the city, probably to be raped and murdered and never seen again.

John is watching you, dark eyes scanning your face as if he can read your mind.

“Would it make you feel better if I told you I used to be a boy scout?”

“No!” You say, and laugh, but the tension is broken and you follow him into his studio. It is sparsely decorated, and you wonder if he’s just moved in. Ever polite, you toe off your shoes at the door as you’ve always been taught.

John watches you, snorting a bit “Nice shoes…” and you blink in confusion, looking back at your shoes, pastel pink with a little marabou trim. You thought they were perfectly acceptable for getting groceries and coffee.

“Sit...I’ll get..ice” he commands and races off into the kitchen. He doesn’t seem to move anywhere at a usual pace.

You look around for a chair but don’t see one so perch on the end of his bed.

John comes back from the small kitchen holding a towel, sitting next to you without any care in the world and making the bed bounce with his exuberance.

“Tip your head back”

You look into his almond eyes, and something in them makes you trust him so you do so, letting your head fall against his shoulder as he leans down and presses the ice cool pack against your face.

You hiss a bit, clasping his wrist “It hurts…”

His voice is soft then “I know…” and for a moment he holds you through the pain, his presence beside you making it easier to ride it out until your nose goes numb.

But then just like that he has pulled away, moving to the small balcony and lighting up a cigarette. Your nose has stopped bleeding so you follow him, curious despite yourself.

He starts when you join him, as if not expecting you to have followed. Cigarette smoke curls around his face, his hair is messy and it bothers you. He needs a haircut, a sandwich and a shave.

“You can use my phone to call a cab if you want...can’t guarantee I’ve paid the bill but still…” John shrugs.

He really has that whole bad boy dangerous vibe going on, and you can’t help but find it intriguing.

It’s okay...I have a phone…” you say gently, caught up with watching him and knowing you should leave. You move to press your bare feet against the balcony railings, looking down at the street below.

A sudden image of John, taking you from behind and fucking you against the balustrade comes into your head and you stumble a little, dizzy with unexpected desire.

John yelps a bit and moves nearer “You probably will be lightheaded a while...you sure I shouldn’t get a doctor?”

He touches your arm with one hand, the other still grasping his cigarette and you shake your head.

“I’m fine….I’ll get going now..thank you...for your help”

“You got it. “ he nods

You move to slip your shoes back on, reluctant to go back into the hallway and strangely, John seems just as loathe to let you go.

“Hey wait..”

You freeze and look at him expectantly.

“Your car...looks messed up. I sometimes do some work at Aurelio’s garage? If you want someone to fix your motor without ripping you off...he’s the guy.”

He presses a card into your hand and you clutch it tightly, seeing the address is not too far from your house.

“So...I guess this is it…” leaning on the door-frame to watch you go, he lifts a hand to ruffle his hair up even more and you bite your lip not to comment on it.

“Right…” you nod and try to give him a bright smile, not sure why are so hesitant to leave him when he’s been so rude.

“Bye then…” you give him a little wave and he chuckles, unceremoniously shutting the door in your face.

Going back out into the real world is a bit of a jolt, and you spend the rest of the daydreaming about the mysterious dark haired man with forbidden worlds inside his eyes. You inspect your sweater and as you feared it is ruined, the bloodstains won’t come out no matter how hard you scrub them with soap. You sigh and lean down to deposit it in the trash, and as you do so the card John gave you falls from your pocket.

You pick it up and frown at the stark printed words. You do need someone to look at your car after all, and why not take a recommendation, if not from a friend, from a well-meaning stranger.

Across town, John chain smokes the last of his packet of cigarettes, watching the light die around the city skyline. When he moves back into his studio he shivers a bit with the chill, shrugging off his leather jacket he wishes sometimes he had something softer to wear.

He checks under the bed as is his ritual to see his lock box is still there safe and sound, before flopping back onto the covers.

The towel stained with blood from your nose still lies on the pillow and he picks it up, looking at it quizzically a moment before shaking his head and launching it across the room in the vague direction of his laundry basket. What a girl, he thinks, who knew such innocence still existed in this faded world? Of course, she would be eaten up by it soon enough, but something in him was melancholy for that. A shame. He thought. But not my problem.

Still, that night he slept less fitfully than usual, and his dreams were not the haunted nightmares he was used to, but a little soft, and pastel at the edges.

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

I kinda wanna write more on this...we’ll see how it goes...

#john wick x reader #john wick x you #john wick imagine #john wick x sweetheart #absolute trash writing of the extreme kind #but we're having fun or at least i hope so #to conclude i am the worst #also disclaimer: John is not a licensed health care professional I wouldn't follow his advice on how to stop nosebleeds #but if you don't do what he says he might kill ya #blue jeans

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scarheaded-ferret · 6 years

Text

Praeterita Vita

Summary: Slughorn gives the 8th years a potion that shows them their past life, if they’ve had one. Harry realizes his past life is far different from anything he could have ever imagined.

I’ve had this idea in my head for ages, so here you guys go :^), keep in mind that nothing is historically true, like the location, the people, nothing.

ao3 link

***

“The Praeterita Vita potion, if successful, should tell you several things,” Slughorn announced to his group of 8th years, “whether or not you have had a past life, if anyone in the vicinity was involved in your past life, and to give you an insight of your person’s life. Directions are on page 576, you have two hours,”

Harry groaned, he hated double potions and from looking at his directions, the potion was extremely complicated. At least he had Dean as his partner, who was fairly good at potions and could keep Harry from blowing up his cauldron.

Their desk was in the back corner of the classroom, and by force of habit, Harry glanced at Malfoy as he set his ingredients down. When Malfoy, Parkinson, and Nott had come back for their 8th year, Harry had suspected that they would try to reclaim the popularity they had held before the war. He was wrong in this however, because all of them seemed to keep their heads down, only talking to each other. Especially Malfoy, who seemed to only speak when he was called on in class.

Harry would never admit it aloud but he had begun to miss the small banter they shared, Malfoy’s absence of snide remarks reminding him how much everything had changed after the war. Dean nudged him and Harry snapped out of his gaze, Dean laughed and shook his head.

“What?”

“You, looking at Malfoy. Mate, I hate to break it to you but I used to catch Seamus looking at me like that all the time,” Harry flushed at his words. Dean and Seamus had gotten married right after the war. They were in love so it was normal for Seamus to look at his husband like that, but Harry didn’t love Malfoy, did he? He had been constantly stopping himself from thinking about a sharp jaw and piercing grey eyes, telling himself that he shouldn’t be thinking of Malfoy in that way.

Harry shook his head, “I- I don’t-” he sputtered.

“Don’t worry mate, it’s ok to like him, he’s a git yeah but… he always gave us extra food in the cellar and would cast heating charms, you know?” Harry sighed, realizing that he would not be able to convince Dean that there was no way he could ever like Malfoy.

They completed the potion after a grueling two hours. Slughorn gathered each potion from the table, checked to see if they were made properly, then gave the successful potions back to their groups to see if they worked. Harry took a dose and waited to see if the orb that indicated a past life formed. Apparently your past self carried your soul, so if even if you were in a different body and had a different life, your soul would remain the same, lots of people used the potion to try to find their soulmate, but only few succeeded.

“Why look at that! Harry has had a past life!” Slughorn shouted, jovial. Harry looked above his head to see a violet, glowing orb. Only Smith, Padma, and Malfoy had a past life besides himself. Shockingly though, Malfoy’s orb was the same color of violet as his.

“Well boys, it seems as though your souls knew each other! Touch the orb and you’ll get a vision of your past-life, a series of the most significant events for your person, off you go!” Harry reached up and gently tapped his orb. His fingers slid right through the misty substance and he thought it didn’t work until he looked around.

He was in a ridiculously extravagant room, that looked like it predated electricity. Harry looked at the person lying in a large four-poster bed that was placed along the back wall of the room. It was a man, with curled ebony locks that fell to his shoulder, and bright green eyes, similar to his own.

“Potter,” someone whispered and Harry flinched. He turned to his right to see Malfoy next to him, watching the vision as well. But, if Malfoy was here, where was his person? Then, another man with hair styled similarly to the man in the bed, but blonde, walked in. He had grey eyes, that looked a lot like Malfoy’s.

“That- that must be me, and that’s you,” Harry said, pointing at the two individuals. Draco nodded his head, but didn’t comment. The two men began to speak and Harry was eager to see how their souls were connected. He couldn’t understand what they were saying until Malfoy raised his wand and cast a translation charm.

“My dear Damian, you have made me wait so long. I was beginning to think you had abandoned me,” The brunette said, smirking. Harry frowned. He sounded flirtatious, but judging by their clothes and the time period, they couldn’t be- together. Could they?

“Pierre, my love, you know how my father can be in his speeches, he wishes to remind me of my duty to my brother and of course, the throne,” the one called Damian said.

Harry stood, gape-mouthed, as the two kissed, Pierre stroking Damian’s hair. If these were their past souls, it meant that Harry and Malfoy had been in love. Harry blushed as he watched the two deepen the kiss, but they stopped when Pierre pulled back slightly.

“My love, I have something to tell you,” he said, grinning. Damian quirked a brow and began to kiss Pierre’s jaw.

“What - is the - matter?” Damian asked in between kisses. Pierre pulled a box from behind him and held it out to Damian.

“Open it, my love,” Pierre said, leaning against the large pile of pillows that sat behind him.

“A ring, Pierre, what is the meaning of this?”

“We can never truly be together, my prince, but this ring promises that no matter what happens, you will always be the one in my heart,” Harry was extremely confused, how could his soul be tied to Malfoys in this way? They loathed each other!

Damian put on the ring and smiled, leaning in to kiss Pierre again. The world around them blurred, but rather than going back to the potions room, they were in a large hall with a grand table in the center that had several documents and maps laid out upon it.

Harry realized that Draco was no longer next to him, Damian must not have been in this event.

“General Herriot,” called an older man in even more expensive clothing than those around him. Pierre stepped forward, and Harry realized that that must have been his last name. “You are to be stationed at the border of Paris, under General Fortis’ division,” Pierre nodded his head and stepped back.

The vision faded to Pierre sitting in a small room, writing on a parchment by candle light. Harry looked at what he was writing, and found it to be a love letter to Damian, explaining how much Pierre loved and missed “his prince”. Harry was in shock, there was no denying that he and Malfoy’s souls had been enamoured with each other, and if what his textbook said was true, they were soulmates in real life as well.

The scene blurred again and Harry found himself next to Draco once again. Harry opened his mouth to say something but Malfoy held up a hand to stop him. This time, Pierre was in clothes far shabbier than what he had worn before, and his hair was matted and dirty. They were in some sort of prison cell, and Damian was clutching Pierre.

“I won’t let him do this, you don’t deserve it,” he told his lover. Pierre lifted a weak hand to Damian’s cheek and stroked the skin there softly.

“If I die, my love, know that I have always loved you, in this world, and the ones that follow,” Before Harry could react the scene blurred and he and Draco were standing in the same large hall from before, but without the table in the center.

Pierre was kneeling on the ground, the older man from before was holding a sword to his throat. Across the room, Damian was being held back by one of the guards, tears streaming down his face.

“Father! Please!” Damian shouted, voice breaking.

“No, Damian, you must see, this kind of behavior is forbidden, I must teach you a lesson,” The old man, who was Damian’s father, drew back the blade, and stabbed Pierre in the chest.

Pierre made a guttural sound and cried Damian’s name before he crumpled to the ground. Barely anything could be heard over his lover’s screams. Harry made a noise of shock and turned to see Malfoy’s reaction, his lips were thinned and his expression was blank, but his eyes were wet

As the visions began to fade for the last time, Harry caught sight of Damian grabbing a gun from the nearest officer and shooting himself in the head. A moment later, Harry was back in the potions classroom, tears welling in his eyes. He turned to see Malfoy staring at him from his desk.

“Mate? What did you see?” Ron asked from his place next to Hermione, confused as to why Harry was looking at Malfoy in such a way. Harry left his desk and walked right up to Malfoy, cupping his cheek. Harry swiped his thumb at a tear that had fallen, stroking Malfoy’s face in a strangely familiar way. A moment later he and Draco were locked in an embrace. Harry sobbed into Draco’s shoulder as the taller one clutched his back.

The whole classroom fell silent as they shockingly watched the former rivals hold each other.

“Draco, what were your names?” Pansy asked quietly.

Draco sniffed and raised his head, “Pierre Herriot and Damian Leroy,” he answered. Hermione gasped.

“You were- oh my god, oh my god,” she said faintly. The whole class looked at her expectantly.

“Pierre Herriot and Damian Leroy were lovers in the 18th century in a palace near Versailles, Damian’s father was a second cousin of the king, and Pierre was an officer. It’s a famous story in the muggle world, because when their relationship was revealed, Pierre was killed by Damian’s father and Damian shot himself in the mouth immediately after. They loved each other at a time where it was forbidden.

“They have the letters pinned up on a wall in Versailles. I saw them in the summer of 5th year during the holidays. But… when past lives are tied in this way, it means that the two individuals, are soulmates,”

Everyone stood in sundry states of shock. Harry ignored them and looked towards Draco.

“My- my love,” Harry croaked. Draco’s eyes widened.

“How, how can you love me? After all that I’ve done?” he whispered.

“I promised to love you, in that world, and the next,” Harry murmured, before leaning in to kiss Draco. Harry knew that Draco Malfoy was his soulmate, and he found that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

#drarry #my writing #drarry squad #soulmate au #past lives #8th year #Draco Malfoy #Harry Potter #slight deamus #angst

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a-winchester-fairytale · 6 years

Text

Summer Love

Summary: Every summer has a story...

Word Count: 3,489

A/N: This is written for @anotherwaywardsister Summer Lovin' Challenge and my prompt is in bold. I did something a little different than I normally do and wrote this from the reader's point of view. Although it limited me on some aspects of the story, like the case that Dean and Sam were on, I really enjoyed getting to dive deeper into the thoughts of one individual character.

I hope you enjoy this one! Please keep in mind that feedback is always welcome.

It was the car that caught my attention at first. Black and chrome shinning in the summer sun, the loud rumble of her engine shaking the air around her as she pulled into the open spot just outside of the office. I couldn’t help but admire her, but I guess that was my dad’s influence. He had a shop full of old cars the entire time I was growing up and every time I saw one, it reminded me of him. I slid my phone out of my back pocket and snuck a picture through the window just as the two boys crawled out of the car. The first was short, probably around 12 or so, and he looked around with wonderment written all over his face, as though he had never seen a summer camp in his life. The older one couldn’t have been more disinterested. I watched him mumble something to his little brother and then lean against the front fender of the car. I had to admit he was cute, in a dangerous sort of way. The sound of their father walking into the office made me jump and I quickly went back to gathering the forms I had come for.

He introduced himself to the camp owner, Mr. Walton, as John Winchester and the two of them walked outside. I didn’t give them much thought until I was ready to leave about a half an hour later. I loaded the box I needed into the back seat of my own car and I overheard them talking near the impala.

“You can’t be serious, Dad. It’s one thing to keep an eye on Sammy, but now you want me to spend the summer chasing after a couple dozen snot nose brats?”

“Yes, Dean. We have a job to do and you have to play your part. Sam is too young to do this alone.” His father insisted, before lowering his voice to a level that only allowed me to understand his tone of impatience.

“Fine.” Dean agreed, obviously reluctant.

“Y/N!” Mr. Walton called to me, drawing attention to my presence. “Tell Agnus if she needs more of those registration forms, we have another two boxes in the store room.” He added.

“I will. Thank you.” I called back to him.

“Who’s that?” I heard Dean ask just as I got behind the driver’s seat.

“That’s Y/N. She is one of the counselors at our girl’s camp across the lake.” Mr. Walton answered. I could feel their eyes on me as I pulled away, one last glance in the rear view mirror at Dean showed a smile on his face.

I had been spending my summers here since I was a little girl and it seemed like a child had disappeared every year from camp since my fourth year. There were rumors around town that the camp was haunted, that the spirits of some of the kids that had died years ago remained there.

Counselors said that they could hear laughter late at night, but all of the kids were safe asleep in their bunks. Eventually, parents stopped signing their kids up for camp there, and began sending them farther away. It was a growing concern for Mr. Walton that he would have to shut the camp down if the numbers didn’t improve in the next few years.

Although the girl’s camp was across the lake from the boys, a lot of the activities were done together, allowing me several opportunities to notice Dean Winchester.

The first time we talked, though was a couple of days after camp began. I was gathering the beach towels from the laundry by the main office when I heard a familiar voice stop up beside me.

“Y/N, right?” He asked. I turned to come face to face with the object of my curiosity and simply nodded. His close proximity had caught me off guard. “I’m Dean.” He added.

“Is this your first time as a camp counselor?” I asked, trying to make casual conversation.

“It’s my first time at camp period.” He answered. He leaned back against the edge of the counter and it took everything I had not to stare. I’d dated guys before, but there was something about him that made him different from anyone else I had ever met. There was such certainty, such confidence, in every move he made.

The group of six 12-year olds that Dean was in charge of, along with his little brother, walked by and most of them “oooohhhh”-ed and “aaahhhh”-ed, making kissing noises like typical 12 year olds. Dean pushed away from the edge of the counter and took two steps toward the door before they raced away, laughing all the way to the dining hall.

“Those snot nosed brats seem to like you.” I teased and he ducked his head.

“You heard that huh?” He asked, rubbing the back of his neck with the palm of his hand.

“Yeah.” I admitted. “It seemed contrary to your character.”

“My character? What do you mean?” He asked, a little defensive and I laughed.

“It’s just that you said it and I thought you were a typical teenager that didn’t have time for little kids, but…” I froze, the words stuck when he turned and looked directly at me. I think my heart stopped for a moment and all I could think about was that his eyes were more intense than a teenager’s should be.

“But what?” He pressed, interrupting my thoughts. I cleared my throat and looked away, back to the towels I had been folding.

“But then I saw the way you act towards your brother. You dote on him, like there isn’t anything you wouldn’t do for him.”

“There’s not.” He said simply.

“Hey, Dean! Can you come help me with this archery equipment?” Mr. Walton called from the back of his jeep a few yards away.

“Sure.” Dean called back. He started walking away and then stopped and turned back. “I’ve been watching you too, by the way.” He added.

“I wasn’t…I just….” I stammered, feeling my cheeks flush, but he just grinned and winked before rushing off to the jeep.

That’s how it started.

Dating between the counselors was forbidden at the camp. It was a distraction, and could put the younger children at risk of getting hurt, so we flirted as inconspicuously as possible. Looks across the crowd at each other, the slightest touch of my hair when he walked behind me, and when he thought no one was looking he would step beside me and take my hand in his. It was fun, feeling like what we had was something private between us.

A few days later, I woke up to a strange sound and when I looked out of the window I saw a couple of flashlights coming from the woods near the edge of the lake. I glanced around at the other girls in the bunkhouse, but no one else had woken. Slipping my boots on and grabbing a flashlight of my own, I slipped outside as quietly as possible.

I made my way toward the lights, and didn’t realize until they spotted me and stopped that it was Dean and his younger brother. As I got close enough to see their faces, the seriousness in Dean’s surprised me. It was the first time since the first day he showed up at camp that he didn’t smile whenever he saw me. Now, he just looked worried.

“What are you guys doing out here?” I asked, once I had caught up to them.

“Sam claimed he heard something out here so I told him I would come check it out.” Dean answered, a little too quickly.

Before I could press him, there was a scream from somewhere in the woods.

“Sam, stay here with Y/N.” Dean ordered his brother and he ran off into the trees before I could stop him.

“Dean!” I called out after him, but he didn’t respond. “We have to get help.” I said, but Sam grabbed my arm to stop me.

“Just wait. Dean said to stay here.” Sam said. “He knows what he’s doing.” He added when I tried to protest.

I kept hearing a voice in my mind that said it was wrong to wait, but I couldn’t leave Sam and he refused to leave his brother. He just stayed focused on the tree line where we had last seen Dean entering the woods.

It took only a short amount of time before he came back, although it felt like an eternity. When he did, he carried a small girl in his arms. I recognized her right away, although she looked pale and clung to him so tightly her knuckles were white.

“MayBelle! Are you alright?” I asked, running to meet them. She didn’t say anything at first. “I didn’t even realize she was gone.” I whispered to Dean. Everyone in her cabin had been counted before lights out.

“Let’s take her to the office. Sam, go down and wake up the nurse and Mr. Walton.” Dean instructed. Sam took off to the quarters as I followed along with Dean to the office, unlocking the front doors so he could lay her down on the couch.

I stayed with her until the nurse came and asked us to let her examine MayBelle, who had finally stopped shaking. When I stepped back outside, I saw Dean talking with Sam near the parking lot, the seriousness I saw in their faces gave me knots in my stomach.

“So it’s over then?” I heard Sam ask as I stepped closer.

“It’s all done. Go get some sleep. We can call dad tomorrow.” Dean told him and Sam headed back to the bunk houses. I knew I should head to the other side of the lake and do the same. The sun was starting to rise and the campers and counselors would be getting up soon.

“How is she?” Dean asked when he noticed my approach.

“Pretty shaken. She keeps saying that the camp monster lured her out there. I’m sure it’s just shock. Her parents are coming to get her. They should be here around noon.” I explained. He took a deep breath, almost like he was relieved.

“That’s good. Maybe if she gets back home she’ll feel better.” He said, his eyes looking everywhere except at me.

“What were you and Sam really doing out there?” I braved the question. He immediately jerked his head to face me.

“You don’t seriously think either of us did anything to scare her?”

“Of course not.” My words jumping quickly from my mouth. It had never crossed my mind that Dean or his little brother was responsible for whatever had terrified MayBelle. “I just think there is more to what you told me.” I added.

“I told you last night. Sammy swore he heard someone outside and he wouldn’t let me sleep until we went to go check it out. I was sure he was just hearing things or I never would have gone out there alone.” He answered, but I still had the feeling like he was hiding something.

My thoughts were interrupted by Mr. Walton stepping out of the office to thank Dean for his help in recovering MayBelle. Dean agreed to show him where MayBelle had been found so they could canvas the area for evidence of who was the cause of all of the trouble. As Mr. Walton headed for his jeep, Dean slid his hand around my waist and leaned close to me.

“Meet me at the dock tonight?” He whispered in my ear.

“What if we get caught?” I asked, knowing that with everything that had happened the whole camp would be on high alert.

“That’s half the fun, right?” He asked with a mischievous wink. “11:00.” He added before heading to Mr. Walton’s jeep.

+++

I luckily managed to get a little sleep, not joining my group until after breakfast. I was on edge the rest of the day, jumping back and forth between excited and terrified. The whole camp was buzzing about what had happened to MayBelle and I tried to deflect as many questions as I could. I didn’t want the other kids running off into the woods out of curiousity.

That night, it took a while before I was certain that my roommate was asleep so I was a little late getting to the dock. I didn’t see Dean anywhere and I was afraid that he had given up. I walked out to the edge and looked at the water below. I never heard him come up behind me and screamed a little when I felt his arms around my waist as he threw the both of us into the water.

“You scared me.” I accused, shoving water at him as he laughed.

We swam in the water for a while, chasing and splashing each other until we were close enough for me to put my hands on his shoulders and push him under for a moment. As he came back up, he wrapped his arms around me to keep me from swimming away. He held me close to him, our legs wrestling under the water. With our faces only inches apart, my eyes locked with his. The water had changed them, made them lighter, almost a clear green now.

I don’t know what made me push back; fear maybe. I wanted to kiss him, but something inside of me wouldn’t let me, at least not yet. I think I was afraid of what would happen if I did.

Instead, he let go and we laughed about it. I swam back to the dock, climbing out and he did the same. He lifted a towel and draped it protectively around my shoulders, his hands resting there for a moment.

“Thank you.” I said, unable to manage anything more than a whisper. He smiled before grabbing another towel for himself and sitting down on the edge, his feet dangling above the water. I slid down next to him, grateful that he didn’t want to rush away.

The lake was so still, the moon barely reflecting on the water. With everyone in camp asleep, it was easy to forget that we weren’t the only two people for miles.

“What are you thinking about?” I asked, resting my fingers on top of his between us.

“We’ll have to leave soon, me and Sam.” He replied, looking across the lake to the bunkhouses. “I know Sammy likes being here, and so do I.” He added, turning his head to watch my face for a reaction.

“Why wouldn’t your dad let you stay?”

Dean laid back on the dock, looking up at the stars and I noticed a very serious, but sad look on his face. I don’t know why exactly, but I felt a pang in my chest at the thought of his sadness. I had barely known him a week, exchanged a few flirtations, but I couldn’t deny that I felt drawn to him in a way that I wasn’t used to.

“We travel around a lot, my dad’s job and all that.” Dean said, looking up at me.

“That must be so lonely.” I couldn’t help but say. The way he was watching me almost made me wish I hadn’t and I suddenly felt the need to explain. “I just can’t imagine always having to make new friends and never really feeling like you belong.”

“You get used to it.” Dean answered, trying to laugh it off but I could tell something was on his mind.

“What is it?” I pressed. Dean sat up then, propping himself up on his hands, his face now so close to mine that I could have easily counted the freckles dusting his nose and cheekbones.

“I’ve never really minded having to make new friends and losing touch with the old ones until now. I can’t imagine not being able to sit on this dock with you every night.” He answered and I blushed.

“I bet you say that to all of the girls.” I tried to joke off how embarrassed and hopeful I felt. Dean laughed a little, but he shook his head.

“No, just you.” He answered and leaned forward to kiss me. His lips were so soft, carefully caressing mine.

I’d never been kissed like that, so gentle and so sweet; not awkward at all. I could feel my heart racing in my chest and I worried that Dean would hear it too, but he didn’t seem to. Without knowing it, I had wrapped my hands around his neck. The feeling of my fingers tangled in the dampness of his hair is what made me realize it.

“You are so beautiful.” He said as he pulled back and studied my face with his eyes.

Instead of blushing this time, I leaned into another kiss. Only moments before, I had turned away in the water, afraid of what would happen between us if we kissed and now I never wanted to stop.

But stop we did. We heard an engine and jumped apart, landing flat on the dock to try and hide ourselves from the headlights driving away. Once they were gone, we both started laughing with relief.

“Maybe we should take that as a sign.” He teased and I reluctantly nodded in agreement. He helped me to my feet and gave me one last tender kiss. “Thank you.” He whispered against my lips.

“What for?” I asked, still feeling my head reeling from his affections. He didn’t answer right away and I opened my eyes to see a smirk on his lips.

“Just because.” He answered. I wasn’t sure exactly what he meant by that, but I didn’t get the chance to ask before he rushed back to the boys cabins on the other side of the lake.

I watched him go as long as I could before he disappeared into the darkness. As I walked back to my own cabin and crawled into bed, I couldn’t stop smiling. The giddy feeling inside kept me awake for at least another hour before pure exhaustion won out and I feel asleep, dreaming that I heard his father’s impala driving by.

He didn’t come back to the lake again after that. A few days later, at the camp bonfire, Dean’s roommate told me that their father had come to get him and his brother because they were moving again. That’s how it ended.

One year later…

Summer camp was about to start again. Maybe that’s what made me think of him, but that would mean I had ever forgotten about him. I hadn’t. I went to the carnival with some friends to celebrate the start of summer vacation, our last before we headed off to different colleges. We played some games, rode a couple of rides, ate cotton candy and huge lollipops.

“Are you still thinking about Dean?” My best friend asked when she realized I hadn’t heard a word she was saying.

“I’m sorry.” I told her. “I had thought those memories would have faded away by now. We had only spent a week together before he was gone.”

“You liked him.” She simply replied, knowing me better than anyone; sometimes even better than I knew myself. I nodded.

“I should have known that feeling would have lasted longer than that week did.” I muttered and she rested her hand on my arm as a show of silent support.

The truth was that he was all I had talked about last summer, and now that it was almost time for camp to begin, I couldn’t help but wonder about him. Where was he? Was he happy? What about Sam, were they still close?

I guess that’s why I thought I had imagined it - A familiar figure between the booths. Suddenly I felt the butterflies in my stomach, my lungs fighting for air, and my heart racing at the thought of who I wanted that figure to be.

“I’ll be right back.” I told her and I could feel her eyes on me as I walked to the end of the row of games. There he was, as real as the first time I saw him. He never said a word, but neither did I. He just stood there, smiling that perfect smile.

“Oh my…” I heard the whispers of my friends who had followed and stood a few feet behind me.

It took a moment to realize I wasn’t imagining it. Once I did, I felt the smile on my face and I just shook my head at him. He laughed and opened his arms wide. Without a second thought, I ran toward him, leaping into his embrace. He set me back down on my feet and then his lips were on mine.