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destieltropecollection · 3 years

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Destiel Trope Collection 2021 | Day 6: Firsts

24 fics under the cut

Sometimes Things Just Work Out | @vampamber

Rating: General Word Count: 1,027 Main Tags/Warnings: arranged marriage, angel Cas, royalty AU, mistaken identities Summary: Castiel is not looking forward to being forced to marry this Prince Dean person. The angel had never met him, never even laid eyes on him. For all he knew, the marriage would be miserable. Now, this human who's trying to hide in Castiel's room? It made Castiel wish that he wasn't going to be part of an arranged marriage, because he was really starting to like this green eyed stranger.

Through the Night | @smokerdean

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,147 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel Out of the Empty, Soft Epilogue, First Times, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Sharing a Bed Summary: The motel is the same as thousands of others Dean has stayed in over the course of his life, but it's different, it's better, because he is here with Cas.

The Report Card | @fpwoper

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,211 Main Tags/Warnings: First Time, Crack Fic, Blow Jobs Summary: The morning after Dean and Cas first fool around, Dean finds a honest to god report card.

Dragon's Den | @fpwoper

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,280 Main Tags/Warnings: First Date, Dragon!Cas Summary: Dean and Cas's first meeting is in a coffee shop they randomly chose. It's just... a little dragon heavy.

Taking one for Team Free Will | @fellshish

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,560 Main Tags/Warnings: First kiss, pov dean winchester Summary: There’s a spell that requires an angel’s kiss to work. Dean takes one for the team.

Cannibal Queen | @one-more-offbeat-anthem

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 1,683 Main Tags/Warnings: creature!Castiel and creature!Dean, first time, porn with plot, virgin Castiel, mild gore Summary: What's a zombie to do when he finds out his (pretty hot) roommate and best friend is a vampire? In the case of Dean Winchester, the plan is to convince said vampire that they should team up and heist slaughterhouses. But when a run goes wrong, there are some unexpected consequences...

A Sign of Affection | @clarrisani

Rating: General Word Count: 2,159 Main Tags/Warnings: First Kiss, Fluff Summary: Castiel learns that different kisses mean different things.

9x06 coda : I'm sorry | @allofmystudentsrunaway

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 2,288 Main Tags/Warnings: Mutual Masturbation, Angst with a Happy Ending, AngstEmotional Hurt/Comfort, fanfic gap Summary: fan fic gap first time.

The blonde-haired witch and the little push | @chaoticdean

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 2,830 Main Tags/Warnings: Case Fic, Witches, Oblivious Castiel/Dean Winchester, Mutual Pining, First Kiss, Friends to Lovers, Sharing a Bed Summary: It’s not the first time Dean’s ever had to listen to someone referring to Castiel as “his boyfriend”, but it sure as hell is the first time he has to sit through a diner listening to a witch referring to Cas as his husband without even batting an eyelash, like it’s the most normal thing in the world. Which would be fine if it didn’t cause actual shivers to run down his spine. (or the one where a friendly witch gives Dean the little push he needs)

Every Part of You | @the-communist-unicorn

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,097 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe, Panty Kink, Married Dean/Cas, Explicit Sex (but non-penetrative so there's no top or bottom), References to Homophobia Summary: Cas discovered his husband's secret completely by accident, but now that he knew, he wasn't just going to let Dean shove it back in that shoe box like it was something to be ashamed of. Every part of Dean was perfect and beautiful, and Cas might have just discovered a kinky side of himself too.

Whiskey and Wifi | @celipuff

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,401 Main Tags/Warnings: Top!Castiel/Bottom!Dean, Dom Sub Undertones, Neighbors, Castiel Has A Panty Kink Summary: Cas may have lost a WiFi connection, but when he makes his way over to his neighbors house, he ends up gaining something much better.

At Last! | @chaoticdean

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 3,617 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Friends to Lovers, Best Friends, Mutual Pining, Idiots in Love, Airports, First Kiss, 5+1 Things Summary: Five times Dean kept his mouth shut, and one time he didn’t.

OUR FIRST TIME | @cooloddball

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 3,920 Main Tags/Warnings: Fluff and Smut Summary: Dean & Cas' first time together

Ghost Town Saints | @nothing-but-dreams

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,010 Main Tags/Warnings: College, House Party, Beer Pong, Marijuana, First Kiss, Love Confessions, Friends to Lovers, Trans!Castiel, Supportive Dean, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: College is out for summer vacation, and that means Cas is back home with his family. Ever since he came out as trans, things have been tense, to say the least. After yet another argument with his parents, Cas needs to clear his head. Luckily, his best friend Dean is just a text away. Dean suggests the two of them escape reality for a bit and hit up a party being held at Ghost Town. As they drink and get high, they realize their feelings for each other run deeper than friendship.

It Started With Arousal | @vampamber

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,260 Main Tags/Warnings: ABO, angel Cas, alpha Cas, omega Dean, soul bonds, virgin Cas, porn with plot Summary: It was when Castiel violently slammed the demon into the wall mid-fight that he felt it. The bond he had with Dean ever since he pulled the omega out of Hell had been getting stronger lately, but this was the first time that Castiel truly experienced an emotion that wasn't his own. He had expected something like this to happen eventually, but there was no way he ever would have expected such a feeling at a time like this. Dean was… aroused? He spared a quick glance at the hunter, meeting green eyes but seeing nothing that might cause said arousal. When three more demons kicked through the door to enter the room and the fight, Castiel promptly forgot the confusing emotion. For the time being, at least.

Kiss Me | @peanutbutterjelly-pie

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,285 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon Compliant, First Kiss, Humor, Friends to Lovers Summary: Dean’s spur-of-the-moment ideas aren’t always the best, as lots of people are able to attest. And his last one really took the cake. Because now he’s unable to forget the taste of Castiel’s lips and he’s got no freaking clue how to deal with this.

Kiss at the Drive-in | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 4,380 Main Tags/Warnings: fluff and smut, getting together, drive-in cinema, semi-public sex, car sex, non-penetrative sex, handjobs, shy!Dean, dirty dancing, implied Bottom!Dean Summary: When Dirty Dancing airs in a Drive-in Cinema near the Bunker, Dean really wants to go with Castiel. Of course only because Castiel’s education about movies is still bad. Not like it’s a date. Sadly.

Swayze Always Gets A Pass | @kingdumbass

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 4,766 Main Tags/Warnings: Bunker Fic, First Kiss, Drunk Dean and Cas Summary: After Dean and Cas get into an argument over a case, Dean tries to apologize by asking Cas to Netflix and chill. Featuring: Cas the movie critic, his drunk friend, Dean, and Dean's tired brother, Sam.

Y Tu Dean Tambien | @a-mandala-rose

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 6,909 Main Tags/Warnings: High School AU, Geek Dean, Closeted Bi Dean, Pan/Possibly Demi Cas, Referenced Homo/Biphobia, Low/No Angst, Implied/Referenced Consensual Underage Non-Penetrative Sex, Nothing Explicit, Happy Ending Summary: Dean Winchester has a crush. A great, big, secret, gay crush. Okay, more like a great, big, secret, bisexual crush, if we’re being technical. Either way though, the relevant word here is secret, because Dean lives in Kansas, which isn’t exactly known for its thriving LGBT community. In fact, he’s pretty sure most of his neighbors don’t actually know what LGBT stands for and he’d be willing to bet that if asked, at least a solid 10% would think it’s a sandwich. So yeah, nobody knows that Dean’s spent the past six months crushing on Cas Novak, the sexy junior in his Spanish II class, and it’s damn well going to stay that way. “Hola, Señor Winchester,” murmurs a gravelly voice in Dean’s ear, straight out his dirtiest fantasies and close enough to raise the hairs on the back of his neck, as Dean suppresses a shiver. The smirk on the mouth housing that goddamn sinful voice tells him that while he may have resisted the full-body shudder, his red cheeks did not go unnoticed by the boy sliding fluidly into the desk directly behind him. “Hey, Cas.” Nobody knows about Dean’s crush except for Cas, that is. Cas definitely knows.

Game of Survival | @sorajinsei

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 8,317 Main Tags/Warnings: Suspense, Alternate UniverseThriller,Alternate Universe - Purge, Demonic Possession, Alternate Universe - Angels & Demons, Bottom Castiel/Top Dean Winchester, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies Summary: Who's in the shadows? Who's ready to play? Are we the hunters? Or are we the prey? There's no surrender and there's no escape.

Talk Therapy | shara (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 9,309 Main Tags/Warnings: Castiel and Dean Winchester Need to Use Their Words, Top Castiel, Bottom Dean Winchester, First Time Bottoming, Rimming, Communication Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, ALL the issues Summary: "Alright fine, you can put a finger in me," Dean says one night while watching Cas go down on him. Cas pops his mouth off Dean’s dick and stares at him. "I never said I wanted to put a finger in you," he says slowly, and then stops and tilts his head. "Do you want me to put a finger in you?" ~~~~ Dean comes to terms with this thing with Cas, and with himself.

Bind Me To You | @imbiowaresbitch

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 18,184 Main Tags/Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content, Public Blow Jobs, Mild Kink, Condoms, Mutual Pining, Switching, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Anal Sex, Rimming, Anal Fingering, Light Bondage, One Night Stands, Strangers to Lovers, Teasing, Happy Ending, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, Masturbation Summary: Dean and Cas meet in a one night stand, but lust, chance and eventually more bind them together.

Tempered Desires | @mattzerella-sticks

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 20,013 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Pandemic, Baker Dean, Dean has ADHD, Recreational Drug Use, Meet Cute, First Date Summary: Dating, sex, and finding love were the farthest things on the minds of both Dean and Castiel. There were more important things to worry about - namely the pandemic that swept across the globe and changed everything. Navigating this new environment was hard enough without adding romance. But fate never intervenes when you expect. From first meetings to first dates, we'll see how Dean and Castiel's relationship blossoms despite the circumstances.

Put That On A T-Shirt | @celipuff

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 21,524 Main Tags/Warnings: Dean’s First Time With A Man, Blowjobs, Top!Dean/Bottom!Cas, Semi Public Sex Summary: Getting blindfolded and blown by a random dude his girlfriend knew didn’t exactly sound like an ideal Sunday for Dean, until it actually happened.

#destiel trope collection 2021 #day 6 #firsts #destiel #supernatural #fanfic #saving blogs; queuing things; the tumblr business

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fics-of-culture · 3 years

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Nightmares and Angels

Requested by anonymous

Summary: The littlest Winchester has been experiencing hallucinations and nightmares of her brothers covered in blood. Can a certain whiskey eyed angel come to the rescue?

Words: 2,123

Warnings: Blood, Hallucinations, Nightmares. Reader has PTSD. Possible misrepresentation of mental illness. (I personally don’t have many experiences with PTSD or hallucinations so take everything here with a grain of salt.)

It was late. And you found yourself milling around the bunker. Again. Trying to find anything to occupy your time with in order to avoid going back to your room. You were positive that if you went to bed you’d have nightmares. You’d been having them a lot recently. Along with some other... issues that you’d yet to address. Today had been especially difficult for you in that regard. Your older brother Dean had been in the kitchen making dinner when you had another one of your ‘attacks’ as you called them.

“You want bacon on your burger?” Dean turned away from the veggies he’d been chopping to face you. You were seated at the kitchen table, nose buried in a book and just enjoying your brother's company when he had asked. Being caught off guard by the question, you let out a little ‘huh?’ “The burger.” Dean repeated. “You want bacon on it or- Ah shit!” He exclaimed suddenly. You stood from your chair to check on your brother when you saw it. A steady trail of red streamed from his thumb onto the cutting board. Apparently Dean had nicked his finger while he was distracted. You froze in place. Images flashed rapidly before you as Dean grabbed a towel to stop the bleeding. You watched in horror as the blood seeped through the towel. Slowly, it continued to spread until it was running as a steady steam down his arm pooling around his shoes. You took an unsteady step back, priming yourself to run out the door when a pair of fingers snapped in front of you. Dean was staring at you with concern. Hand wrapped in a towel completely devoid of blood. “I said can you get me a bandaid?” Dean asked. Watching you curiously as you stood there. Shaking off your latest trance, you gave Dean a sharp nod before turning to locate your first aid kit.

It wasn’t always like this. Some days were just worse than others. You had gotten so accustomed to seeing your brothers steeped in blood that you had started to see it even when it wasn’t there. Your brothers didn’t know about this. No one did. And you intended to keep it that way. They always looked as though they had the weight of the world on their shoulders and you couldn't bear to stress them out more with your personal problems. You sighed as you wandered into the kitchen. It was empty now. Your brothers had gone to bed hours ago, meaning you could roam around freely without your brothers worrying about why you were up so late. Knowing you’d be awake for a while longer, you decided to brew some coffee. You were pouring yourself a steaming cup of coffee when you heard wings flap behind you.

“Is that for me? Oh sweetheart, you shouldn’t have.” Gabriel speaks in your ear as his arms wrap around you to pull the cup out of your hand. You roll your eyes as you turn to face him. You cross your arms as you stare at the angel who has been your best friend since he’d been ‘brought back to life’. A smug smirk graced his lips as he kept your beverage from you.

“Gabe, that drink does not have nearly enough sugar for it to be for you.” You sass him as you reach out to take your cup back, but he continues to withhold it from you.

“I’ll tell you what, you give me a little sugar right now and you’ll get this drink back.” You cross your arms and groan in annoyance as the mischievous angel taps a finger to his cheek. “Come on hon, one little kiss and I’ll stop buggin’ ya. Besides, I’ve been gone for weeks! Don’t you wanna welcome me home?” It is true that he had been gone for quite a while. He and Cas had been working overtime in heaven trying to keep the lights on. Uncrossing your arms, you sigh in mock defeat as you step closer to give your favorite angel a kiss on the cheek. He lets out a dramatic gasp as you give him a quick peck. You turn your face slightly to hide the blush spreading on your cheeks. If Gabriel notices your sudden bashfulness, he doesn’t say anything.

“You only get a kiss because I did miss you.” You mutter quietly. Gabe gives you a soft, genuine smile. “Now can I have my drink back?” You raise your arms and make little grabby motions with your hands as you wait for Gabe to give your drink back.

“Hell no!” He basically shouts, showing no concern for the other sleeping tenants of the bunker. He swiftly raises his right hand and snaps the coffee out of existence. Your arms fall to your sides as you regard your friend with a look of betrayal. You open your mouth to whine at him before being quickly cut off. “You have any idea what time it is, sugar? You don’t need coffee. You need sleep.”

“You promised you’d give it back.” You said, giving Gabriel your best pout. Maybe your patented Winchester puppy dog eyes would distract the angel from the lateness of the hour.

“Honey.” Gabriel’s voice was suddenly lacking that playful tone from before. “I know you and the rest of the mystery gang are used to burning the midnight oil, but you need to take care of yourself. Are you guys even on a case right now?”

“No.” You muttered quietly. “But!”

“But nothin’ sweetheart. You gotta go to bed. Unless there's something you’re not telling me?” Gabriel had suspected that something had been up with you for a while, but damn if you weren’t a tough cookie to crack. You just huffed out a little sigh before saying goodnight to Gabriel and heading to your room. You were certainly not interested in explaining your lack of sleep to Gabe. You figured that you could probably get away with loading up Netflix on your laptop and staying up a bit longer, but Gabe was right. You desperately needed sleep. Chuck knows you’d been lacking it for the past couple weeks. You resign yourself to your fate as you get ready for bed. Maybe with Gabe in the bunker, the dreams won’t be so bad you think to yourself as your eyes slide closed.

Sam was suddenly woken to the sound of your screams. His bedroom being situated directly across from yours gave him the benefit of being the first one to hear your destress. In less than a second, your brother sprung up from his bed, blankets violently tossed to the side as he rushed toward your room. Once he was in the hall, he shouted once for Dean, but didn’t linger to wait for him. Instead, Sam burst into your room, shotgun in hand. Expecting some sort of intruder, Sam was caught off guard when all he found was you screaming and writhing blindly on your mattress.

“Y/N!” Sam shouted your name as he rushed to your side. Jostling your shoulder in order to wake you, your brother watched in horror as your eyes opened suddenly, falling upon his face. Instead of his presence soothing you as he thought it would, you instead jerked away from his touch and let out a scream of what he could only describe as haunting despair. From your perspective, you weren’t seeing your sweet brother Sammy as you normally would. Instead, you watched as your brother’s face was covered in blood and contorted in anguish. Desperate to get away from this haunting image, you pulled away from his grasp and pinned yourself to the headboard of the bed. As far away from your concerned brother as possible. Vaguely you recognized that he was speaking to you, but you couldn’t pull away from your panic long enough to hear him. All you could do was stare at the blood pouring down his face, repeatedly jerking away from him each time he tried to touch you or otherwise get near you. A few moments later, you were curled into a ball on your bed when the door swung open once more. It was Dean. He stood there staring at you with a worried expression similar to Sam’s, apparently having heard the ruckus you’d made. But you couldn’t focus on that. All you could see was the copious amounts of blood dripping from what appeared to be a stab wound right where his heart was. Just like when Sam approached, you jerked away from Dean when he got near you. You were unable to do anything in this moment other than tremble and sob at the horrific images of your bloodied brothers before you. You truly tried to calm yourself, but nothing seemed to soothe you. And the presence of your brothers were just making your stress worse. You couldn’t get the picture of your blood soaked brothers out of your head. Subconsciously, you desperately cried out to the only being you thought might be able to save you. You didn’t even register the new presence in your room until you felt the bed dip. Your head jerked up, frantically searching for the new intruder when you saw Gabe. He wasn’t covered in blood or half dead. He was just your Gabriel. You let out a little cry of relief when you saw him. Instantly moving to crawl into his lap for comfort.

“Hey hon, what’s going on?” You hear him whisper as he wraps his arms around you. From your spot in his lap, you couldn’t see the confusion and worry on his face as he tried to figure out what was happening.

“I can’t- I can’t make them stop!” Your voice sounds pathetic to you as you speak frantically. Gabe runs his hand through his hair, not entirely sure what to do.

“What’re you talking about? What won’t stop?” His hand falls to your head and he lets his fingers card through your hair as you whimper into his chest.

“The hallucinations! I can’t make them go away.” With your head buried in his chest, you don’t see the grim look Gabriel sends your brothers. Your brothers turn to share a look as if to say ‘Did you know about this?’

“What’re you seeing?” He turns his attention back to you. He kept his voice gentle as he spoke to you, not wanting to spook you more than you already are.

“Sam and Dean. Covered in blood. Oh God make it stop.” The trickster was positive he felt his heart break when you said this. He knew you’d been having some sort of problem that you weren’t sharing with him, but he never imagined it was anything this severe. And according to the shocked looks on your brother’s faces, they hadn’t known either. He sucks in a breath and steadies himself, wanting to be confident for you.

“Look again.” He speaks calmly. And you pull away to look him in the eyes for the first time since he arrived. You let out a little ‘what?’ He’s patient as he speaks to you. “Look at your brothers again. It’ll be okay. I promise.” Hesitantly you do as he says. You turn your head to look at Sam and Dean as they stand helplessly in the corner of your room. Clearly unsure how to help you. To your shock, they looked completely normal. A little ruffled from getting out of bed so suddenly, but they didn’t have a speck of blood on them.

“Ho-how?” You can’t wrap your head around the sudden change.

“A little angel magic. As long as I’m here, you won’t have to worry about those pesky images.” You let out a little sob as you hugged him with renewed vigor. Gabe cuddled into bed with you and when you seemed calm enough, your brothers left the two of you alone. Dean was grumbling a bit about leaving his little sister alone with the trickster but Sam just shoved him out of the room. You were sure that they were going to have a long talk with you tomorrow, but for now they seemed content to just let you relax.

“Gabriel?” He let out a distracted ‘hmm?’ as his fingers continued to comb through your hair.

“Stay with me tonight?” You spoke so quietly that if Gabe hadn’t been an angel, he wasn’t sure he would’ve heard you.

“Anything for you, sweets.” The two of you made your way under the covers. You laid your head on Gabriel’s chest and slowly allowed yourself to succumb to sleep. Knowing that for the first time in months, you would be getting a peaceful sleep.

#spn #spn gabriel #gabriel #gabriel x reader #gabriel imagine #spn gabriel x reader #supernatural #supernatural fic #supernatural reader insert #reader insert #fanfic

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tearsofgrace · 4 years

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written for suptober day 27: banquet

wc: 1.1k, tags: angst (sorta), mcd (but it’s happy?), how tf do i describe this, enby!jack though :)

It had become a tradition of sorts. A way to keep the memory alive. They tried to do it every year, but that didn’t always work out. Still, when it did happen, it was always beautiful. Loud, boisterous, tragic, drunken, but beautiful.

It had been Donna’s idea. What better way to remember the Winchesters than this? Jody had gone along with it, and soon their banquet was the largest gathering of hunters America had ever seen.

Jody liked to picture their reaction to it.

Jack, of course, would love it. Their eyes would light up as they looked around, drinking in everything. They’d love the abundant food and drink, love the laughter. They’d love the late night bonfire where things got a little quieter, more somber. They would let it wash over them, experiencing it fully, just like they did with everything in life.

Cas would probably be confused. Wonder why anyone wanted to remember him. He would insist that all the festivities, all the memories, be centered on Sam and Dean, maybe Jack. He’d never liked being the center of attention. But Jody thought he would appreciate it too. Would smile. Because he’d made a difference in this world, and there was no way in hell she was letting him forget that.

Sam would probably laugh, but tear up a little. He’d roll his eyes at the excess of beer and whiskey, frown at the kids who were there, wishing they could escape the life. But overall, he’d probably look into the mass of flannel and just laugh. Because here was their legacy, so many years later. What they’d done, what they’d sacrificed getting rid of Chuck, it had been worth it. And their friends knew it.

Dean was a bit of a wildcard. Jody knew him well, really well, but she’d never been quite able to get a read on him. He kept everything so close to his chest, so close to his heart, that figuring him out took guts. He’d trusted her with a lot, though. Some things that he didn’t even tell Sam. And she liked to think he would appreciate this. Would appreciate the world going on without them. But more would appreciate that people still remembered them, still saw what they’d done.

And that’s what she tried to picture every year as she and Donna dealt with the overwhelming logistics of getting 50+ hunters in the same place. She saw their faces, pictured the world without them, and dealt with all the damn bureaucracy.

This year the banquet was on the 10th anniversary of the Winchesters death. It was poetic in the cruelest way that they all died together. Cas, taken by the Empty just hours before the final showdown because… well she didn’t like to think about that. He and Dean could have been so happy together. And Sam and Dean had refused to let Jack die alone. They knew that them dying was the only way, and as much as they wanted to save their kid, they couldn’t. So they went with them.

Ten years later, and the world was so much better for it. For the sacrifice they’d made.

They were gathered at an old ranch in Minnesota--Donna’s grandfather had owned it--and it was well below freezing outside. None of them moved as they huddled around the fire though, smoke billowing above them.

They’d told hours worth of stories.

Claire had talked about the stuffed animal Cas had gotten her. She’d even passed it around the circle. It was a little faded now and the ears were starting to fall off, but it still made her smile. When it’d come back around to her, Kaia had taken it and softly smoothed it’s fur before tucking it back into the bag and slipping her cold hand into Claire’s. She knew her wife would never admit it, but sharing that with everyone else had taken courage. She never really talked about Cas outside these gatherings.

Garth had talked about hunting the shōjō with the Winchesters. He had stood up and acted out their drunken stumbling, causing laughter to ring out in the silent night. When he’d sat down, he’d gone quiet. But no one else spoke, just waited breathlessly for him to continue. He had looked at Beth, taken a deep breath and a swig of beer, and shook his head before softly muttering that he missed them.

The mood had gotten heavier after that, stories being spoken in whispers to avoid disturbing the stars. Everyone had something, even if they’d never met the boys or Cas and Jack. They’d all heard the legendary tales, some exaggerated and some not even close to the insanity of the reality in which they’d lived.

And then after a while, everyone went quiet. No one knew who was the last to speak, but the silence settled over them like a blanket.

They just sat, staring into the dying embers, shivering as a slight wind picked up, and remembered the family that had defied all odds and saved the world over and over and over.

They remembered Lucifer’s child that had grown to be so much more than that. Had grown into immense power and handled it all with the humility of a saint.

They remembered the angel who’d fallen in every way imaginable. Who’d fallen from grace, fallen to Earth, fallen in love. Who’d chosen free will over the will of God.

They remembered the hunter who just wanted out. Who wanted to become a lawyer. They remembered his undying thirst for knowledge, his righteous anger, his unending compassion for those around him.

They remembered the hunter who’d done everything for family. Who was smarter than he thought he was. Who had devoted his whole life to caring for his younger brother.

And as the fire faded completely, a strange sort of peace settled over the group. They trickled off one by one, murmuring hushed goodnights, and headed back to the warmth of the house in the distance.

When they’d all gone, Jody stayed behind to make sure the fire went out. Donna offered to keep her company of course, but she just shrugged and smiled softly.

The glow of the embers was soft, but in the darkness of the open air, they stood out starkly. She watched them for a while, watched their ebb and flow, and before she knew it, tears were tracking down her frosty cheeks. She wiped them away and looked away from the smoke stinging her eyes to the stars.

She didn’t know where the Winchesters were. Well, Cas was in the Empty… but none of their relationships with death had ever been able to be described as normal. She hoped they’d found some semblance of peace.

The world had been darker without them. Harder to live in. But she’d kept going, she had to. They’d made this worthless rock floating in space mean something when they died for it. So no matter how much she missed them, how much it hurt, she struggled through. If only to keep their memories alive.

Because the Winchesters? They were heroes, all four of them.

tag list below! ask to be added or removed

@fandomstuff67 @menjiiii @witchyanaels @starlightcastiel @chaoticdean @larryforeveralways @samhainsam @flowersforcas @tlakhtwritesdestiel @wanderingcas @hallowena @spooky-things-do-happen-dean @jayus-fandom-writer @cas-you-assbutt-dean-needs-you @gmotheemo @starrynightdeancas @radiantdean @piemaker-from-gallifrey @on-a-bender @eshaninjer @trasherasswood @dreadful-delight @feraladoration @trenchcas @contemplativepancakes @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @thefourthheadofcerberus @seffersonjtarship @randomblabbling @craftywitchywoman @supernaturalisheaven @adsp-destielcockles @tehmanda

#suptober20 #enby!jack #mcd #tfw 2.0 #jody #spn angst #spn fluff #destiel #donna #claire #dadstiel #banquet #my writing

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supernaturallyobsessedchic · 3 years

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Emergency! Part 3

Summary: A woman comes back from her trip from Asia but isn’t feeling the best. And is rushed to the hospital. Her symptoms are that of the flue, but worse than. The virus spreads throughout the hospital, Jack falls ill collapsing in the break room. Dean falls ill on a rescue, Cas having to rescue the original victim and his partner. The reader, having to sit by and wait and pray for her friends pull through. But turns out the original patient with the virus got better, now her body has the antibodies to fight the virus.

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean x Nurse!Reader

Word Count: 4,262

Warnings: Scary Situations, Language, Mild Angst, Fluff.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Mobile Masterlist

a/n: I could use the corona virus or COVID-19 but decided to use the virus used in the Emergency! Episode of the same name. The virus being a strain of the Asian flu during a bad outbreak in the late 60’s. Also the drugs and measure mentioned are probably not accurate, I’m not a pharmacist.

a/n2: D.O.N = Director of Nursing, DOA = Dead on Arrival, BP = Blood Pressure, O2 Sat = Oxygen Saturation

“Dean,” Cas says, walking into the fire stations garage.

Dean was logging supplies in the squad truck when he heard Cas enter and got his attention.

“What’s up Cas?”

“When you started dating Y/N, when did you know she was the one?”

“What do you mean?”

“I really like Meg, and when she was taking care of me after that accident of mine I found that she and I have a lot in common and I want to know her more?”

“Well, Cas, it’s different for other people. Just ask Meg out. Talk to her, find out stuff about her that she likes, hates, and if you can find yourself still able to love her despite her flaws. Keep it going. Keep taking her out.”

“You make it sound so simple.”

“Nothing in life is simple man.”

Cas nods in agreement.

The alarm sounded in the station.

“Squad 51, someone sick. Respond. 226 south Jasper’s Avenue, cross street South Walker boulevard.”

“Back at it again.” Cas says.

“Let’s hit it.”

Dean getting into his usual spot in the squad, revving the engine to life and heading to the location.

When they arrived, another station had arrived originally.

Dean and Cas gathered their tools and headed into the residence.

“Chuck, what do you got?” Cas asked.

“Kelly McMeyers, 22, her dad said she was fine at breakfast.”

They followed Fireman Chuck through the house to the girl’s bedroom to find her on her bed, sweating, pale and in obvious discomfort and pain.

Dean placed a hand on her head.

“She’s burning up, Cas, get the thermometer.”

Cas did as told handing the thermometer to Dean.

Dean placed in the girls mouth, under her tongue. Cas handing him the blood pressure cuff.

Dean began checking her Blood pressure.

“Get the radio, we need to tell the hospital.” Dean orders.

Cas, pulls out the radio of it’s holster on his belt.

“Rampart, this is rescue 51. Rampart this is rescue five one.” Cas radios in.

It was a normal slow day at the hospital, y/n having finished her charting, getting reading for her lunch break.

“Rampart this is rescue 51,” she heard Cas’s voice over the radio. “Rampart this is rescue Five one.”

She picks up the hand piece to the hospital’s radio to respond.

“Go ahead 51.”

“Rampart we have a female, Kelly McMeyers, 22 years of age.” Cas transmits.

“BP is 129 over 80, O2 Saturation is…”

Dean places a hand over her chest, watching it rise and fall. Counting in his head. But scolding with the low number he came up with.

“Did you pack the pulse Oximeter?”

“I did.” Cas says, handing it to him.

“I got to double check before I give you the wrong number.”

Dean turned on the device, and placing it on her finger.

“Still reading low, O2 Sat, 85.” Dean says.

“O2 sat is 85. Temperature is coming up…”

Dean pulls out the thermometer.”

“105.” He reads.

“Temperature is 105.”

y/n was shocked she had a temperature that high.

“51, standby, a doctor will be with you shortly.”

“10-4.”

“I just don’t understand, she was fine at breakfast, it happened so suddenly.” The girl’s father expressed.

“Some of these things do happen rather quickly.”

“Could be the Asian Flu?” Chuck suggests. Playing with the girl’s pet monkey.

“Well, let’s not jump to any conclusions until a doctor can see her.” Cas says.

“Kelly, sweetheart, can you hear me?” Dean asks.

The girl nods groggily.

“She’s really drowsy.” Cas mentions.

“Kelly, are you in any pain at all?” Dean asks.

“My head hurts, my chest hurts too.” She whines.

“She threw up a bit before you got here Winchester.” Chuck mentions.

“51, this is doctor Singer.”

“Rampart, we have new information, patient is experiencing head and chest pain, she’s drowsy and vomited a few times before we arrived.”

“Alright, start IV, lidocaine, two milligrams. And just in case what she has is contagious keep contact with the patient to an absolute minimum.”

“10-4 Rampart.” Cas says.

“I’ll get the IV going, if you want to get the ambulance here Chuck.”

“Already ahead of you, they should be here by now.”

Sirens are heard in the distance, as if on cue.

“How about that timing?” Cas says.

“Alright, she’s set, lets get her to the hospital.” Dean says.

Just as more paramedics came in, Dean grabbed the equipment as Cas walked out with the patient.

Chuck still petting the monkey.

“I love monkeys, bet he’d be a cute pet to have.” He says.

“Yeah, but they’re not meant to be pets Chuck.”

“Yeah, I know. But, cute little guy, isn’t he?”

The monkey sat on his pole that stood in the room. And the monkey started walking over to Dean, walking on his shoulder, messing with his hat.

“Hey, stop,” he told the monkey while trying to shake him off gently.

The monkey got back on his pole as Dean walked out to the squad.

At the hospital, Y/N, Doctor Singer assisted in the patient, Kelly McMeyer, as Doctor Singer preformed a spinal tap.

Just as he pulled out the needle, gathering spinal fluid, Doctor Kline walks in.

“What’d you got Bobby?”

“Possible strain of the flu, her symptoms are consistent with that of the Asian flu, but the incubation period is too fast. Her symptoms came up quick, she was fine at breakfast.”

“Do we know where she’s been lately?”

“All over southeast Asia, Kelly and her friends were part of her church’s mission trip in assisting kids in orphanages, and adoption homes. Fixing them up, helping kids get adopted. And her dad took her camping when she got back. Took her to the Black Hills in South Dakota.” y/n explained.

“That opens us up to a whole array of fevers, and of course flus. China is always riddled with noval viruses we’ve never seen nor dealt with. And of course, there’s ones we’ve dealt with her, rocky mountain spotted fever, lymes disease, or even parasitic infections. Fungal infections that could have originated from her camping trip.” Jack explained.

“Did Kelly have any kind of protection on either trip?” Jack asked.

“Her dad made sure she packed, bug spray, tick spray, and they had nets around their camp to prevent nats and other flying insects from getting in the tents.” Y/N says.

“So, in which case, we’re back to, what did she catch when she was in China. Because chances of her getting anything on the camping trip are slim I’m guessing.”

“Her dad was pretty adamant that they were covered for their trip. He didn’t want anyone getting sick.”

Jack nods.

“Let’s get some blood work, see if we can’t find the answer in there.”

“You got it doctor.” y/n says, getting her hands sanitized, and ready to draw some blood.

“Dean, your shift was done an hour ago, go home!” His father ordered.

“Just finishing up the logs for the day.”

“Cas can finish it up for you, he at least goes home in an hour. Now go.”

“Yes sir, you sure you got this man?” Dean asks.

“Dean, I got it. Go home and rest. See you in two days.”

Dean handed Cas the papers for logging their day, what all happened, their end result. He grabbed the keys to his Impala and drove on home.

He could tell he was exhausted. At a stop light he had to really will himself to stay awake just a few more miles.

But as he got to another stop light, he knew he was too tired to be driving.

Y/N’s apartment wasn’t far. He moved lanes before her street came up and Dean drove to her apartment. Giving her a call to make sure she was either up or home.

“Hey Handsome, how was your day?” she asked.

He could hear the background of the hospital.

“Exhausting. Are you still at work?”

“Yeah, another late one. Why? Are you in the area?” she asked. Sounding concerned.

“I’m really exhausted, and I don’t think I’m gonna make it home. I was thinking on crashing at your place.”

“You can stay there Dean; my key is by my hanging plant. I think your clothes from last time are still there.”

“Thanks baby, where would I be without you?”

“Dead in a ditch because you’ve run yourself ragged, now hurry to my place and get to bed. I’ll home when I can.”

“Love you sweetheart.” He says with a tired smile, pulling into her apartment complex.

“Love you more Winchester, sleep well.” She says.

He parked his car near where she parked. Walking up tiredly up to her apartment he found her key easily.

He headed inside, placing the key back but also locking up behind him as he got himself settled.

She had since gotten a new apartment since the plane crash; sure she was farther away from the hospital, but she was closer to him by several blocks.

He had gotten out of the shower, feeling a little bit better, but he climbed into his side in her bed. Pulling the covers over him, and falling fast asleep once his head hit the pillow.

She had hurried with her charting, her replacement nurse coming in late. But at least she showed up.

She hurried to her car to get on home.

She saw Dean’s car parked next to her spot on the street. She parked her car right behind his.

She quietly entered the apartment. Leaving the lights off she navigated to her room seeing his sleeping form in her bed. Sound asleep.

She made her shower quick and simple, washing off the stress of the day and relaxing enough so she could fall easily asleep.

She climbs into bed beside him. He tossed, turning towards her, wrapping his arms around her.

Poor dude was exhausted. But Dean was no fool, he loved being the little spoon. Maybe too much. But when it was her, he didn’t care too much.

Days followed, and the original patient began to go downhill. Her fever wasn’t breaking.

Y/N had finished getting Kelly’s vitals, updated her chart. She headed back out to the nurses station when she saw an ambulance dropping off a new patient.

“What do we have?” she asked.

“Fireman, Chuck Shirley. Stricken with a fever, 104 temp, slightly elevated BP.” One of the paramedics informed.

“He was fine at lunch time.” His wife said behind the paramedics.

“Are you his wife?” Y/N asked.

“I am, my name’s Becky.”

“Okay, I’ll escort you to the waiting room. I’ll keep you informed of your husbands situation.” y/n told her.

Becky nodded, and she was lead to the waiting room. Y/N walked back into one of the exam rooms.

Hours passed as the doctors looked over Chuck, they learned one thing in common.

He responded to Kelly McMeyers.

“I want everyone who responded to get checked out. Clearly we are up against something contagious.” Jack orders.

“I’ll get right on it.” y/n says.

As the day wore on, Y/N had called all the stations that responded, the ambulance and even called up her boyfriend personally.

“Afternoon beautiful.” Dean answers.

“Hey babe, you responded on the Kelly McMeyers right?”

“I did, me and Cas both, why?”

“Chuck Shirley is sick with the same symptoms as Kelly, and Dr. Kline has ordered you two to come in and get checked out.”

“Is it really that bad?”

“Dean, Chuck looked bad. Come in, please.” She practically whined.

“Okay, I will. Don’t worry sweetheart. I have to come down for supplies anyway, I’ll bring Cas along.”

“Thank you. See you soon.”

Just as Dean and Cas left the hospital after giving their blood samples to be checked for any virus or uprising in white blood cell count. Questions rose to how and where the original patient got sick.

“Whatever this Kelly chick has must be bad.” Dean says as he drove back to the station.

“Must be, if she didn’t get while camping then where?” Cas asks.

For a beat there was a pause.

“The same place where she got her pet monkey.” Cas says.

“You really think that monkey is the carrier?” Dean asks, unsure.

“Think about it Dean. It’s always animals in other countries that carry all these scary viruses. Swine flu came from pigs. Avian flu came from birds. The Asian flu came from, well, Asia but it was ducks. What if, this monkey one of those viruses and was somehow able to transmit it overseas?” Cas explained.

“You should really be a doctor something, damn Cas.” Dean says, impressed with the information Cas was able to share.

“Also think of the movie Outbreak.”

“Dude, that wasn’t even a real virus.”

“No, but it was a real situation that can really happen. It’s the worst case scenario. But it was a monkey carrying a mutated version of the virus.”

“I think you’re onto something Cas.” Dean says, digging around in his pockets.

“Here, call my girlfriend, tell her what you told me.”

“Okay.” Cas says.

“Hello?”

“Y/N, it’s Cas, you got a minute?”

“How’s Dean?” she asked concerned right away.

“Oh, he’s fine, we were just talking about the victims. She brought home a pet monkey from China. And Chuck was playing with it.”

“That is actually something Cas, thanks. Is there anything else we need to know?”

“Not really, but just for the fact that this monkey might carry a virus that could kill Kelly and our friend.”

“And you’re spot on, on that. I’ll tell Jack and Bobby. Thanks Cas.”

At the hospital, the two doctors were at the nurses station when Cas called. Their attention on her when she seemed surprised with the information he given her.

“Cas of squad 51 just told me Kelly brought home a pet monkey from China. And that Chuck played with it.”

“That’s something, Bobby, get someone to go with Kelly’s dad back to his house. Get the monkey and bring the little guy in.”

“You got it Jack.”

Cas had handed Dean his phone back.

“You know, Cas,” he says.

Cas doesn’t say anything but has his attention.

“I kind of played with the monkey too.”

The next following day, Kelly was slowly getting better. But Chuck was taking a turn for the worse. His fever wasn’t breaking.

Jack goes into Kelly’s room to talk to her about her monkey.

A nurse was already in the room taking care of her.

“Abaddon why aren’t you wearing your mask?”

“Oh, sorry Doctor its just—”

“No excuses, you’re taking an unnecessary risk. Not only would you be putting your life at risk, you’re putting everyone else’s lives at risk as well.”

With that she put her mask over her mouth and nose.

“Kelly,” Jack says.

She opened her eyes slowly giving the doctor his attention.

“We got your pet down in the lab. Now, was he ever sick when you had him?”

“Yes, just after I bought him. He had a bad cold, and threw up a bit too.”

“Well in order to help the fireman, and you as well, we may have to put him down so we can perform an autopsy.”

“No, you can’t!” she cried. “I don’t know what I’d do without Oreo!”

“Kelly, it’s the only chance we have at saving lives.”

The tears that built up in the girls eyes fell. Jack took his gloved finger by her cheek, brushing away the tears that fell.

“If you’re right about that,” she swallows thickly. “Then you can take Oreo.”

“Could help you too Kelly.” Abaddon says.

“I know.”

Jack gave a sad smile through his mask.

He doffed off his PPE by the door and left her room to give the go ahead.

“Dean, we have a group of kids from Jefferson Elementary School to come in for a tour, can you help Gabe clean up the garage real quick.”

“Dad, I’m really exhausted, can you get Cas to do it?”

“It’s not like you to complain, come on now. He’s busy with the logs, come on it won’t take long.”

The alarm sounded.

“Never mind.” John says.

“Station 51, medical emergency. At the top of the Wells Fargo bank at 5535 Woodland Boulevard. Cross street Jackson Avenue.”

The men and women at station 51 jumped into action.

At the location they climbed up the stairs after they reached the max floor the elevator would allow to go.

“What happened?” John asked one of the men working on the roof.

“Jimmy was over the edge cleaning the windows and he let out a yell, and I saw him collapse. I tried getting him on this thing but it’s jammed.”

“We’ll get him, we’ll hoist one of my paramedics down to get a line on him and we’ll bring him up.” John assured.

“I’ll go.” Dean says.

“Why don’t we just swing the lift through a window?” Cas asks.

“There wouldn’t be a safe way to do it. Just, get me down to him. Drop a line for him and he’ll be up here before you can say Bobs your uncle.” Dean says.

“Just be careful man.” Cas says.

“I will dude.”

Dean has the ropes around him, his harness, Gabe, Michael and Raphael anchored his rope as they helped lower him down.

“Okay, more slack!” Dean shouts as he got closer to the victim.

He got safely on to the lift and began to work the rope around the victim so they could lift him up.

But Dean’s vision began to spin. His hands came up to hold the support of the lift.

“Dean, you okay!?” Cas shouts from the ledge.

“Yeah!”

Dean hurries to get the rope around the victim and tries to work on tying the knot.

His dizziness got worse, and worse. Just as he was about to ask for help, Dean passes out.

His body falling off of the lift, and hangs by his harness off of the ledge.

“Try lifting him up a bit!” Cas ordered.

The three brothers tried pulling the rope slightly.

Cas could see Dean wasn’t getting any higher.

“No, stop, he’s tangled. I’m gonna have to head down there.” Cas says.

He heads over to Charlie who handed him some rope, getting the lopes around him, and working his harness on.

Cas hurries over the ledge.

Gabe, Michael, and Raphael tied Dean’s rope to hold him steady as they lowered Cas down to the lift.

“More slack!” Cas ordered as he got closer.

Cas removed his work gloves to check the victims pulse.

“He’s in full cardiac arrest!” Cas shouts out, communicating.

Cas finishes what Dean had going. Connecting the loops around the victims arms and legs making a makeshift harness.

“Okay, lift him up!” Cas calls out.

The victim slowly rising as Gab, Michael and Raphael pulled the rope lifting the victim up.

“Dean, can you hear me man?” Cas asked, trying to lift Dean onto the lift.

He didn’t respond. He was out cold.

Cas furrowed his brow as he grew concerned for his friend.

“Okay, lift him up!” Cas ordered.

Cas seen the original victim made it over the ledge safely. And Dean began to slowly rise up to the top.

Once everyone was safely up, they got Cas up as well.

Cas helped with the cardiac victim while Charlie and the others assisted with Dean.

Y/N sat at the nurses station charting her days work about ready to head home when an ambulance and squad approached the door.

She quickly typed up her report, saving it and sending it to her Director, she went to assist the paramedics.

Her heart dropped when she saw one of the patients being wheeled in.

“Dean.”

“Patient one was DOA, heart attack. Dean has a fever of 104.” Cas says.

“Okay, there’s an exam room open, lets get him in there. I’ll page Dr. Singer.”

“Where’s Jack?” Cas asked.

“He’s sick too. He was about to treat Kelly and Chuck when he collapsed. His fever is 103 and climbing.”

“How is Chuck?”

“Not doing well. Let’s focus on Dean please.” Y/N said, keeping the tears of fear at bay.

Dean was all settled in a room later that night.

“Y/N.” Bobby says as he entered Dean’s room.

“Dr. Singer.”

“Your director doesn’t want you treating him. It’s against ethics.”

“I know. I’m off the clock.”

“Then what are you still doing here?”

“Oh, forgive me for staying by my boyfriend’s side.”

“Y/N, you’re D.O.N is on the other side of the this door. Relax.” He whispered.

“Bobby, I can’t think straight right now. I want to stay by his side, if that’s alright.”

“You can’t just stop everything because he’s sick. The CDC got back to us on the virus, you know this. It’s a strain of the Asian flu, a newer mutated strain. We have a drug we can use.”

She sighs, rubbing her face hard, trying to not get frustrated with herself.

“I know. I just want to know he’s going to be okay is all.”

“You love him. I know. But you have to still live life. Because that don’t stop. You got to keep going kid.”

She nods. “I’m guessing I can’t stay with him due to isolation protocol.”

“You got it. but once he’s better, you can.” She nods again.

“Please, keep me in the loop with him.”

“I’m sure Meg will. Cas was already on her case about him.”

She chuckles with a nod.

“Go home and rest. He’ll still be here tomorrow.”

She nods, leaving with a slump in her shoulders. Heading to her car. Driving quietly home.

It wasn’t until she got out of her shower, and laid in her empty bed did she let her walls come crumbling down.

A sob escaped from her, shaking her to her core.

“God, Dean. Please be okay.” She sobbed.

The next day, she heads into work trying to focus on her patients.

She learned from one of the over night nurses that Chuck passed away.

Her anxiety already being high enough with her boyfriend being sick with the same virus, but the same virus that killed a fireman.

She headed up to Dean’s room where Meg walked out. Sweating after being in her PPE for some period of time.

“How is he?” she asks.

“Not good. His fever is not even breaking. He had the first 100 Milligrams of Idoxuridine.”

“Has it been two hours?”

“Close, it’s been about an hour and fifty minutes since last dose.”

“Give him another dose of it. Same for Jack if he’s not getting better.”

“Sure thing, I’m sure Bobby will understand.”

Y/N nodded as Meg went back inside to give Dean another dose of the drug.

Y/N headed back to the nurses station to chart her first half of the shift when her D.O.N approached the desk.

“Y/N, I was told you were by Dean’s room yet again. This time on the clock.”

“Sorry Jody, I just—”

“It’s okay, really. Bobby can be a hard ass sometimes, and I know I can be too. But my husband gets sick really easily. And I’d do the same thing you’re doing.” She says.

“Thank you…” she hesitates.

“I have your replacement coming in so you can see him and be with him. Once Donna gets here, go to him.”

“Thank you, thank you.” She says, as tears rise to the surface.

“It’s not a problem.” Jody smiles.

Days pass as the doctors and nursing staff cared for Dean and Jack for the virus.

Y/N stayed day and night, her D.O.N giving her the week off on FMLA.

She had lost track of the days when she finally allowed herself to sleep.

Kelly was fully recovered and the doctors and nursing staff encouraged her to donate some blood so they can use her antibodies in her blood to donate to Dean and Jack so they have a fighting chance.

His fever finally broke, he was getting better. She could close her eyes and he’d still be there.

She woke that night to a hand on her head, playing with her hair.

She stirred awake to find Dean awake and well.

“Hey.” She says tiredly.

“Hey.”

“How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.” He answers. “Babe, did you stay here all day?”

“Dean, it’s been a week. You’ve been out for a week.”

“Damn…but still, you’ve been here all week?”

“Yes. You scared me.” She says. Taking his hand and placing it on her cheek.

His thumb brushing against her cheekbone. Catching a tear that fell.

“Well I’m sorry for scaring you. But you’re worrying me, did you take care of yourself while you were here?”

“Not really. Haven’t been hungry. I’m not sick or anything.”

“I know, you’ve told me that you’ll get this way. Either in a good way, like an innocent way of binging your favorite show and forgot to eat. Or in a bad way, like this.”

“Let me get Meg and tell her you’re awake.”

Just as she says that, Meg comes walking in.

“Jack’s awake…oh Dean’s awake too.” She says.

“Yeah, he is.” Y/N Says tiredly.

“I’ll get Dr. Singer so we can see when you can go home. And get Y/N to a bed, she hasn’t slept much since she stayed here.”

“Really, not eating or sleeping.”

“She was worked up. who could blame her?” Meg asked.

“True.”

Meg left the room to get Bobby.

Dean not saying a word, pulls Y/N’s arm guiding her in the bed with him.

She happily got in, curling into his side.

He felt a residual tremble shudder through her body.

“Shh, I’m here baby. I’m not going anywhere.” He says.

Not even a tiny virus would tear up this team.

A/N: Did you enjoy? How are you liking it so far? Favorites yet? Feedback is fuel and much appreciated. :3

Dean Girls:

@pandazombie69, @luci-in-trenchcoats, @supernatural-jackles, @becs-bunker, @winchesters-favorite-girl, @jayankles, @jeaniespiehs20, @mlovesstories, @akshi8278, @flamencodiva, @anotherspnfanfic, @megzdoodle, @lyarr24

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 3/23/2021

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jawritter · 4 years

Text

When The Lights Go Out

Part 3

Summary: Life hasn’t been your best friend lately, you lost your job, and are on the verge of losing your apartment. Who knew when you decided to join a Sugar Daddy app that your best friend suggested ina last ditch effort to save your apartment, and not end up on the street, your first and only client would turn your whole world upside down.

Pairing: Mobster!Dean Winchester x Virgin! Reader

Word Count: 2063

Series Warnings: Mob level violence, injured Dean, description of injury, creepy Godfather John Winchester, John is pretty much a double bag, escort services, virgin reader, lose of virginity and all the insecurities and fun stuff that come with it, age gap (23 year old reader; 40 year old Dean), angst, unrequited/requited love?, language, smut, unprotected smut.

Chapter Warnings: embarrassed reader, hint of insecurities, brief description of injury, language I’m sure, because it’s me people. Some angst, I think that’s it, this chapter is actually pretty mild.

A/N: Beta’d by @deanwanddamons! Thanks so much love!! Please don’t copy my work!! Feedback is golden! Hope you all enjoy this one!! It’s gonna be a little bit of a slow burn y’all, but just hang in there!

(This fic is based on this request: Could you do a Dean x reader where she is 23 and lives alone in her apartment, she gets fired and can loose her house, her friend tells her about a sugar daddy app, she makes a profile and Dean 40, contacts her, she is virgin and don’t offers sex, Dean is billionaire business man and needs a girl for his business parties,the reader is really shy, blushes a lot, they fall in love, he takes her to a trip and makes love to her on a private island, could it be a series?)

Want more? Check out my masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***SERIES MASTERLIST***

To say that Dean had paid you very well for your date together last Friday night was an understatement. In fact, he’d paid you so well, that you were able to get caught up on all other bills that were due, and still have plenty of money left over.

It wasn’t about the money for you though, not really. It was about the fact that you had spent every moment, waking and sleeping, completely, and utterly infatuated with the green eye man that had hired you as his permanent escort.

I mean how could you not? He was literally the most attractive man you had ever laid eyes on, and even though this should have been strictly business, you were already developing quite the crush on the man.

Sure, working for this guy could literally get you killed, and you weren’t sure that John wouldn’t do it his damn self if he caught the two of you, and learned that you weren’t really Dean’s girlfriend, but you still couldn’t stop yourself from checking your DM’s, and hoping your phone would ring with that baritone voice on the other end that seemed to make you melt without even trying.

It was just getting dark. The sun was setting just behind the skyscrapers that made up the New York skyline, casting beautiful shades of pink, and gold over them, the light of autumn hanging in the air as the season ready themselves to change. It was your favorite time of day, so you found yourself sitting in your chair next to the window with a cup of hot coffee in your hand, and a throw blanket over your lap, just taking it all in.

Your mind drifted from Dean, to your future, to the upcoming event on Sunday that he’d yet to contact you about. That event you tried to not think about, just thinking about it made your anxiety spike to an all time high.

The last time you were in the same room with John Winchester, he’d ask you to prove your relationship with Dean. When you left the party, he’d made that crude comment about you making sure his son went to bed well satisfied. Only God knows what he might ask you to ‘prove’ in front of him concerning Dean, and that made your chest tighten uncomfortably.

Not that you didn’t want to have sex with Dean, I mean my God most women with a pulse, and some men, would give their left arm to have that opportunity. The problem with you resided with the fact that you had never had sex with anyone before.

Dean didn’t know that little fact about you, and you were terrified of what would happen when he found out.

You hoped your inexperience wouldn’t blow your cover, and you knew you had to tell Dean eventually, even though your contract with him stated that having sex with him wasn’t something you offered as part of the job.You knew that if you continued to play the part of ‘girlfriend’ to him, it was going to come up.

A loud knock on your door nearly made you jump out of your chair, and you made your way slowly to the door of your apartment.

Your only friend was away on business, and you didn’t know who else would possibly come calling. Your little ‘date’ with Dean had made you paranoid as to what might come after you, and you looked through the peephole in the door trembling as if a monster was going to be on the other side of it.

When you saw Dean, your heart leapt in your chest, and you ripped the door to your apartment open like a teenage girl, greeting her crush.

“Hi!” you said breathlessly, opening the door wider and allowing Dean to come in. His tall silhouette slipped past you, and into the apartment on bowed legs that made you weak in the knees.

“Hi, I hope I’m not intruding on your evening, coming over unannounced.”

Dean looked around your apartment as you closed and locked the door behind you, turning to face you as you crossed the floor to him.

“No, not at all, I was beginning to wonder if you had found someone else to escort you Sunday.” you said, looking down and playing with the hem of your sweater nervously.

“Not at all, I was busy with a job, and I’ve only just now got back to New York, or else I would have come to see you sooner.”

Motioning to the small couch in the center of the room, you both sat down, Dean, situating himself very close to you on the couch, closer than you expected.

“I know this might seem forward, and I know that I’ve asked more of you than a normal escort service would have ever offered, and by making you exclusive to me only I’ve kinda brought this to a whole new level that I’m sure you were not anticipating, but in order for Sunday to go off without a hitch, the two of us are going to have to look like an actual couple.”

Fear settled deep in your stomach, as his hand reached for yours.

“You’re trembling sweetheart. Are you afraid of me?” he asked, his thumb rubbing little circles on the back of your hand in an attempt to be calming.

“A..a little bit..” you admitted sheepishly, avoiding his gaze.

Sliding over closer to you, and throwing his arm around your shoulders, he settled the two of you in his hold. The smell of his cologne seemed to pull you in, and cloud your judgment, calming you instantly.

“You have absolutely nothing to be afraid of. I’m not gonna hurt you, and I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. I’m a gentleman, pretty girl, and I’m not going to make you do anything you're not comfortable with if that’s what you're worried about.”

Taking a deep breath to steady your nerves, you look up to meet those green eyes that had been haunting you since the moment you met him. They were softer than you expected, and something radiating through them just said that he was telling you the truth, and it was okay to trust him.

“There’s something you need to know Dean.” you say, shame of your confession making you blush before you could even get it out, his fingers brush your hair off of your shoulder, playing with the loose strands at the base of your neck, bringing goosebumps to the surface of your skin.

“That you’re a virgin.” Dean said, stopping you in your tracks.Your eyes were as big as dinner plates as you try to hide the deepest blush you had ever experienced in your life. You covered your face with your hands.

“It’s nothing to be ashamed of sweetheart. I figured as much the moment I kissed you in my dad’s hotel room, then there was also the no sex policy on your offer. Which I don’t have a problem with in the least, don’t get me wrong, but virgin or not makes no difference to me, or our arrangement. What I do need for you to do is to get comfortable with me touching you, because we need to look more natural Sunday than we did Friday night.”

You looked up to meet his gaze as his fingers lightly brushed the skin of your neck, pulling you closer to him. His warm body pressed against yours.

“Is that why you're here?” you asked him, and Dean nodded his head, his eyes searching yours for any sign of hesitation.

“The more time we casually spend together, the easier it will be for you to be around me, having me touch you, kiss you if need be, and it be believable.”

Relaxing a little into his hold, Dean brought his hand up to the side of your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek before lowering his lips to yours, brushing his lips over yours in a chaste kiss.

Even though it was brief, it still had shivers shooting down your spine.

Dean smiled cockly at your reaction, his fingers dancing little trails down your arm, and back up again.

“So you show up just to makeout with me? That’s not very professional is it Dean?”

Dean threw his head back in a whole body laugh that made you blush yet again, his lips coming back down on yours in a little deeper kiss, before breaking it suddenly.

“You could say that,” he said, still chuckling to himself, “what can I say, I’m a method actor.”

It was said as a joke, but for some reason it stung. Like the only reason he was here was to prepare you to give a worthy performance in front of his family.

Sitting up and away from him in order to clear your head, you grab your remote, and turn on your TV in effort to ignore him. Dean seemed unfazed.

“The dinner is tomorrow, I figured we could both get ready here at your apartment and leave together.” Dean said, kicking his feet up on your coffee table, grimacing as he did so, making your eyes travel him as if you could see whatever it was he was trying to hide.

“So, you're staying here all night?” you asked him. His face hardened a little before he switched off your TV, and looked at you more seriously than before. All joking and flirting disappearing from his features.

“I’m going to level with you, but I don’t want to scare you, so do you trust me?”

Nodding your head against your better judgement, you folded your legs under you, and turned to face him. Your heart pounded in your ears so loud you were sure he could hear it..

“I think my father has some of his goons following us. He doesn’t trust me, and in order to make this look real, I need to spend time with you like I would my actual girlfriend.”

Your eyes bulged almost out of their sockets, and Dean leaned forward with some effort, grabbing your hand in his before he continued to speak.

“I’m sorry, I feel terrible for ever getting you into this with me. I didn’t expect for them to actually like you, or for me to actually like you for that matter, but that’s a conversation for a later date. There are a lot of things you don’t understand, and I know that you don’t trust me, and you have every right to hate my guts, but I swore I’d protect you, and that’s what I intend to do. You didn’t ask for this, I pulled you into it.”

Dean took a deep breath, and his free hand traveled to his side, before he could stop himself. Your eyes drifted to there, and before you could stop yourself, you lifted his shirt looking at a deep purple bruise right over his ribs. The color drained from your face. You were in way over your head. Not only were you bound to the Son of the Godfather of the fucking Russian Mafia in New York City, but he was apparently injured, and sitting here on your couch.

“Dean? Did your dad do this to you because of me?” you ask him, fear evident in your voice.

Shaking his head Dean pulled you closer to him, wrapped his arms around you, and turned back on the TV, signalling this conversation was effectively over.

“No, that was a business deal where someone thought they could get over one me. That had nothing to do with us, or my father, just part of the job.” he said, giving you a peck on your lips before settling both of you into the couch.

You lay there quietly letting him trail his fingers over your arm and back, before long his breath became deep, and even. Looking up his features soften in sleep, and a light snore feel from his perfect lips.

You foolishly wondered if he was here because of your arrangement, or he just didn’t want to be alone. One thing for sure, this just kept getting deeper and deeper, and you wondered just how deep this rabbit hole was really gonna go before the walls started closing in.

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sunflowerstalks · 3 years

Text

Maybe If Remus Had a Plan in the First Place This Fic Would Have Had a Name, Too

Remus is Remus, Roman is tired, and there’s a cat, too. Expected chaos ensues.

This is my gift for Pigeon, @the-pigeon, for @sanderssidesgiftxchange! I hope you enjoy your gift, and i hope your holidays were and continue to go well! Also, happy new year!! :D

word count: 2125

rating: teen and up (for slight language/innuendo)

content warnings: slight innuendo/language typical of remus, hair pulling as a stim, descriptions of bad things happening to animals (as an intrusive thought, it is dealt with accordingly), slight anxiety attack/sensory overload moment

relationships: platonic sides (all of em) with brotherly roman&remus focus, implied/background romantic roman/virgil and romantic patton/remus but it’s pretty subtle

characters: roman, remus, virgil, patton, logan, janus, c!thomas (meaning both character!thomas and cat!thomas asfhjakfh)

additional tags: high school au, punk au, heist fic, like slight conflict and then mostly fluff and comfort. also, side note, cain and abel are the twins’ cats sdhjgdskfh

“Remus.”

“Roman.”

A beat.

“Any chance you could explain… any of this?” Roman gestures wildly to the pile of metal scraps, receipts, the feral cat, and assorted other trinkets strewn across the sidewalk in front of Remus, before crossing his arms and impatiently awaiting an answer without his usual air of, well, put-together-ness.

“Well, I’d actually gotten around to finally cleaning my wallet, when—”

“The cat, Remus! Whose cat is this? Why do you have it? Why is it surrounded by trash?” Roman’s voice increased in both volume and shrillness as he went on, hands reaching unconsciously to tug at his hair.

“Hey, don’t do that shit,” Remus tugged at the cuffed jean at Roman’s ankle for emphasis, “Anyways, like I was saying, I was cleaning my wallet when I remembered that I was like, eighty assignments behind in anatomy, so I figured I could do some cool art or somethin’ with a cat! For… extra credit or something.” Remus faltered for a moment, “In all honesty, I didn’t think I’d get this far.” He had thought getting the cat would be the hard part, so now he was stuck in the swing of success without a direction to turn. Roman, however, was still stuck on the small details (in Remus’ humble opinion).

Roman took a deep breath, muttering something that sounded a lot like a prayer for forgiveness, before looking down at his brother yet again.

“Remus.”

“Yes, brother dearest?”

“Whose cat is this?”

“Do you want the honest answer?”

Roman looked moments away from manslaughter, yet managed to nod anyways. Remus’ face broke into a shit-eating grin;

“I have no fucking clue.”

---

“Let me get this straight—”

A chorus of ‘good luck with that’s and similar sentiments echoed Logan’s statement, much to his chagrin.

“Okay. Redo.”

“You can’t just say ‘redo’ IRL, Lo,” Virgil chuckled, not even bothering to look up from his phone—he had already checked out from the drama, but stayed for the simple pleasure of experiencing the familiar banter—and in fear of being called to the dean’s office for cutting class. Mostly the latter.

“And I would argue that you cannot say ‘IRL’ in a verbal conversation, yet here we are,” Logan paused for emphasis, adjusted his necklaces for the umpteenth time, and smoothed his hands over the table again before continuing, “Regardless. The situation that you—and I mean you two,” he gestured to the twins, “there is hardly a ‘we’ fault-wise here—have gotten into, is one of... feline larceny, without a known victim? Is that correct?” Remus nodded sheepishly—or as sheepish as his wolfish features could get, all teeth and eyes—while Roman just stewed in rage. Remus’ backpack laid halfway zipped on the lab table, and every once in a while a pink nose and whiskers would find its way into the light before being shoved back by a flurry of hands, aware of what yet another detention would mean for the twins. They couldn’t all just skip, though—they learned that the hard way from the last time one of Roman and Remus’ harebrained schemes had made its way from “a slight nuisance” to “an unignorable thorn in everyone’s side that also somehow ends with arson.” So, they had some past experience in handling the, well, experience that the twins brought along with their company—but they normally had at least a lead to work with.

“How,” Janus started, massaging his temples despite only just then contributing to the wreck of a conversation that their art class had devolved into, “do you steal a cat, and not know who from?” Remus just shrugged.

“It wasn’t intentional. I needed a cat, a guy had a cat, I didn’t ask questions. Was I supposed to?” Remus asked, eyebrows drawn together—normally, he’d be a sarcastic shit that would drive the group insane on (some level of) purpose, but now he just seemed genuinely afraid—of the consequences of his own actions, but, still—progress. Logan opened his mouth to offer his advice, but was silenced by the jarring ring of the bell. He sighed. This was going to be a long day of way more stress than he was qualified for—the twins were going to owe him another stick and poke if he had any say in the matter.

---

Remus must have been a wonderful, wonderful man in his past life. He had to have been. Because, somehow, by some good grace, he managed to make it through another two classes on his own, and to lunch in one piece, with a living cat by his side—well, in his backpack, but the merit stands. Logan could honestly say he was impressed—not that he would tell him that, though. Nevertheless, the six friends reconvened at lunch—still without a direction to turn.

“I could just put him back where I found him,” Remus started, attempting to break the icy silence at the table with a jackhammer as always.

“Do you even know where that is?” Roman scoffed, incredulous.

“Well, no, but I could get close.”

“This isn’t helping,” Logan interjected, “How about you bring it to a shelter? One nearby where you found it?” The table nodded in general agreement, but Remus only frowned.

“But that isn’t where I got it from. What if it has an owner? What if the closest shelter isn’t a no-kill shelter, and we go to all the trouble of saving the cat only for the fucks at the shelter to hurt it?” Remus’ pace picked up with his heart rate—despite only having this cat for maybe six hours, if anything happened to it, Remus had a pretty good idea of what he’d end up doing.

“We can check for that, can’t we, Lo?” Patton chimed in, placing a calming, steady hand on Remus’ shoulder, which sunk, relieved, at the touch.

“Possibly. But, regardless, it isn’t Remus’ cat. Our priority is to get it back to its original owner, if it has one,” Logan pointed out, “If that isn’t possible, then we need to reevaluate our plan, come up with another, and settle for a different goal.”

“Have we at any point today even actually had a plan?” Virgil snickered, ever the pessimist—it wasn’t like he was really helping as he was, once again, staring at his phone.

“Well, it’s not like you’ve done much besides stare at your phone today, edgelord,” Remus snarked, though it came out as more of a mumble—his face was pressed into the table, and his eyes were on the cat in the bag.

“You’re gonna have to get better nicknames, Dukey, we’re all edgelords here,” Janus deadpanned, smudging an unhealthy amount of eyeshadow around his eyes while Virgil and Remus argued over their respective contributions.

“Okay, can you, my brother,” Roman pointed to Remus, whose teeth clacked with how fast he shut up, ”and you, my boyfriend,” he pointed to Virgil, who could only look the smallest bit abashed, “calm all the way down? Stop arguing, holy shit—” Roman took another breath, relishing the silence that had fallen over the table before pushing on, “—how about we all go, together, and fix this shit? I mean, what could go wrong?”

---

The answer was a lot. A fucking lot could go wrong when six seventeen-year-olds tried to coordinate anything, let alone an amateur heist.

Remus managed to get through the rest of the school day without much incident, but the rest of them were not so lucky, managing to receive a grand total of three detentions and six failed tests from lunch to the end of seventh period between the five of them. The teens recounted the horror stories of sixth period; Patton gesturing wildly from the driver's seat, Remus sat quietly (for maybe the second time in his life) in the passenger seat, and the remaining accomplices squished together in the back seat (which would fit three people at most for any group that wasn’t them). Also in the back seat was the cat, who had been dubbed “Thomas” for the time being—he was sat in Janus’ lap, curled up around an abandoned ball of yarn that had been left under one of the seats. The car ride across town would have been incredibly tense and unbearably long without the feline, and for that, Remus was grateful—even if he still had a sinking feeling of guilt swirling in his stomach.

---

After a surprisingly uneventful car ride (except for the stop at a drive through for a morale boost (Patton’s words) of coffees and drinks which ended, after a rather nasty pothole, with a massive stain on the roof of the car), the party settled into the waiting room at the—no-kill, Remus triple checked—animal shelter. There weren’t enough chairs, so the group made more of a pile around Thomas, some of them standing, and the others sitting both on chairs and the floor. Juxtaposed with the sterile white of the walls, they stood out like the emo cousins that they basically were. Remus bounced his leg, up, down, up, down, over and over. He kept knocking his knee against Janus’, which jostled Thomas every time he did.

“Sorry,” Remus mumbled, trying to focus on holding still. But it itched in the back of his brain, guilt and stress and fault and all the wonderful, terrible feelings churning, over and over. The clock behind the desk was too loud, and Remus couldn’t do anything about it because they wouldn’t even have to be here if not for him. So he kept his mouth shut and tried not to cry—for all of two minutes, because that was when Janus decided that he had had enough, and shoved a ball of fur into his arms. For a moment, Remus was terrified he was going to fuck it up, hurting Thomas or himself or causing some other inevitable disaster, but Thomas just pushed his warm face into Remus’ palm, and suddenly, somehow the only thing Remus could feel was loved. He choked out a wet laugh, unable to contain the bubbling build-up of emotions that had been brewing since he first saw Thomas that morning. His friends all looked at him, concerned at first, but all they could do was coo at Remus being the softest they had ever seen him. He sniffed, and gave them all a watery smile.

“Thanks, guys.”

“Sincerity? In my brother? It’s more likely than you think!” Roman teased, poking his brother in the arm. Remus stuck his tongue out at him, and the teens devolved into familiarity, playful taunts and sincere joy, waiting to be called back for Thomas’ check up.

---

While the veterinarian had been momentarily taken aback at the request for all six visitors to be in the room during the appointment, she also hadn’t seen a reason to say no at the time. Thus, once again, like the clowns they were, they piled into the room and crowded around the table, Thomas at the heart of it all—confoundingly calm given the situation, at least to the onlookers.

The veterinarian introduced herself to each of them, and began examining the cat for any injuries, microchips, or anything out of place.

“He seems to be healthy, no broken bones or infections…” The doctor said, reaching for a handheld device, “If he’s microchipped, and I’m able to reach the owner, you boys will be off the hook, okay?” Remus cringed, but nodded—he needed to remember that Thomas wasn’t his before he got hurt. She ran the scanner over Thomas’ back, and hummed.

“I’m… actually not finding anything. You said he was lost?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Remus confessed, “I found him on the street, so he could be a stray.”

“It seems he was a very lucky one, for sure. Most cats his age are incredibly susceptible to outside bacteria—finding you guys likely saved his life.” Remus’ eyes widened, and his hand reached for Thomas almost instinctively.

“You said that he doesn’t have an owner?”

“Not that I can determine, no. Did he have a collar, any sort of identification?”

Remus shook his head.

“Well, there are two options in the meantime; we can hold on to him, and put him up for adoption through our services, or you could adopt him. He needs to be immunized and neutered, first, but where he ends up is up to you guys.” Remus thought to himself for a moment.

“Hey, Roman. How mad do you think Mom would be if we brought Cain and Abel home a new friend?”

---

The answer? Not mad enough to outweigh her happiness at Remus’ smile with Thomas in his arms. And even though he didn’t end up getting the extra credit in anatomy, Remus’ circle of best friends grew by one, so he thinks he did alright in the end.

#sanders sides #creativitwins #intruality #prinxiety #ts roman #ts remus #ts virgil #ts patton #ts janus #ts logan #c!thomas #cat!thomas

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be11atrixthestrange · 3 years

Text

The Loft Chapter 4

After a bad break-up, Hermione Granger moves into a messy and dysfunctional loft with four single men. What starts as a temporary home until she gets back on her feet becomes so much more, as she learns there's a lot of life - and love - that happens at rock-bottom.

Inspired by the TV Series ‘New Girl’

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Also on A03 | FFN

More Chapters

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Chapter 4

[Ron]

Ron would best describe the loft as a mess, but a clean one. After hours of scrubbing, the windows are clear and smudge-free, and the concrete floor shimmers with its long-forgotten natural color. What makes him feel most at home, however, is not the fresh pine scent of the couch cushions, but the fact that they're strewn about the floor like plush stepping stones. The boys have arranged them around the trash can in the middle of the room, which is empty save for a dried-up bottle of Febreeze.

Ron's desperate to know Hermione's opinion on the new decor. Despite lifting an eyebrow at the bad doodles of United States presidents and the cardboard cutout of a bald eagle plastered to the wall, she doesn't say anything. She must know better than to think he'll offer an explanation.

After cleaning and decorating the loft, Neville, Seamus, and Harry dispersed into their rooms to make themselves presentable, leaving Ron and Hermione alone in the kitchen to finish up the last of the dishes. He hands her a plate to dry, and she takes it with a smile.

"Thank you for helping, Hermione."

"Of course! But I'm not sure why we're cleaning so much if it's just going to get trashed."

Trashed might be an exaggeration, but she's right in the sense that the new cleanliness of the loft isn't going to last very long. Tonight they're throwing a party, Hermione's first as a loft resident, and she's in for a treat. The boys have been purposely vague regarding loft parties, as any accurate descriptions might turn her off attending. Ron would hate to have her make other plans tonight, whether those be with the girls, or worse, a date.

"Hey, we're not animals. But if it's going to get trashed, it's nice to know it's new-trashed, not old-trashed," he says, earning an eye-roll from Hermione.

"So I'm guessing that this party is America-themed?"

"No. Why would you guess that?"

"No reason," she says, eyeing the miniature blow-up Uncle Sam doll that the boys have been tossing around like a basketball.

"The decorations are just for the drinking game we're going to play," he says, motioning to the multiple cases of PBR lining the wall.

"Right, how do you play?"

"It's not really a game you can explain. You just have to experience it. Nice try, though."

"Then I look forward to experiencing it." She finishes drying the last dish and stacks it away neatly in the cupboard. "What else do we need to set up? Everyone's coming at eight, right?

Ron checks his watch. "Shit, you're right. People should be here soon. I'm going to get ready. Can you start on the beer castle?"

"The beer castle?"

"Yeah. Just stack beer cans in a castle shape around the trash can in the living room."

Ron doesn't wait for Hermione's reaction before he slips back into his room. He rummages around his closet in search of something to wear, something that makes him look both put-together and laid back, ready to party. He lands on a pair of khaki shorts and a pastel blue t-shirt that looks quite nice with his eyes.

He's pretty sure Hermione hasn't seen him in it. Not that it matters, anyway.

He pulls off his shirt and catches a glimpse of himself in the mirror. Surprisingly, he looks pretty damn good. He's a bit skinny but firm and fit. It comes as a pleasant surprise because he's been slacking on his workouts ever since Hermione moved in and he lost his home gym. It's been difficult to exercise in his tiny bedroom, so he doesn't. He hasn't wanted to work out in the living room for fear of Hermione seeing him, but maybe he should give that a try…

With a shrug, Ron pulls off his pants and stands back up. He can't resist the urge to take another look at himself in the mirror. As much as he wishes he was a bit more muscular, there are pros to being lanky. By comparison, his scrawny self really does accentuate his already well-endowed state.

He checks himself out from a few more angles before deciding that physically, he doesn't have much to complain about.

Before he has the chance to put on his pants, the door to his bedroom swings open. Ron startles when it crashes against the wall and Hermione barges in uninvited.

"Hey Ron, I have a question about the beer can castle—"

"Hermione!" Ron, completely naked, scrambles for something to cover himself with but doesn't have time before she's standing right in front of him. "You have to knock!"

She's staring at the two cans in her hands until she pauses and looks up, but her gaze never makes it to his face. Instead, it lands directly on his penis, and she seems to stare at it for an eternity. Thanks to his utter panic, Ron can't move.

It almost feels like time has stopped, and he's frozen there like the statue of David while Hermione ogles him. She appears to be frozen too, eyes wide, mouth agape, staring.

If his dick could blush, it would match the color of his ears, which are bleeding scarlet.

For a split second, he wonders if it's truly as bad as it seems. Maybe Hermione likes what she sees. A tiny seed of hope takes root.

But that hope shatters when she opens her mouth to speak and lets out the worst sound he's ever heard. It's somewhere between a scream and a giggle, and he wouldn't wish such a reaction on his worst enemy.

Without further ado, a red-faced Hermione mutters a quick and useless 'sorry' and rushes out the door and slams it behind her.

Ron stands there for a few seconds, dumbfounded, before the reality of what just happened crashes down.

Hermione just laughed at his dick.

Well, fuck.

Now that he knows how she really feels, he'll never be able to look her in the eye again.

Ron stays in his room until there's a knock on the loft's door, and he has to show his face in order to let in his guests. He's opted for a hoodie over his shirt so he can hide behind the hood whenever Hermione looks at him, because when she does, his neck prickles with heatwaves, and he feels like he's naked again.

It doesn't make sense — Ron's never reacted so strongly to having a woman see him naked, and he's had a decent amount of experience in that arena. He's no Seamus, of course, but he's not a stranger to the occasional hookup.

It's just because she laughed—no other reason.

He opens the door to find his sister Ginny, her roommate Demelza, and two of their mutual friends—Dean and Luna.

"Welcome," says Ron, opening the door.

"Hey, Ron!" says Ginny. "Hermione!"

Ginny crashes into Hermione for a hug, then introduces her to everyone else. "This is Hermione, Ron's new roommate."

"Nice to meet you all!"

Hermione falls into easy conversation with Ron's friends before they get a chance to greet him, but they don't seem bothered by it. He watches her through narrowed eyes and doesn't even realize he's glaring at her until she looks at him and scowls.

"What?"

"Nothing." He turns back toward his friends, hoping they didn't notice their interaction. "Make yourselves at home. Drinks in the fridge, food on the counter, and you know where the beer is," he says, pointing at the beer castle.

Harry turns the music up just as their guests crack open their beers, and everyone starts to relax. Except for Ron, of course. Even though he's hyper-aware of Hermione, he still manages to bump into her and make more frequent eye contact than he'd like.

For some reason, they seem to gravitate toward the kitchen to replenish food and drinks at the same time, and they barely manage a conversation when they run into each other.

"Oh, sorry," she says, trying to slide past him, only for him to walk directly into her in an attempt to get out of her way.

"Erm—"

"I'll go left; you go right."

"Yeah, okay."

Are they always this awkward around each other?

Every time he tries to act normal, all he can hear is her weird little high-pitched scream-laugh, and he just wants to disappear into his hoodie. On occasion, Ron can sense Hermione watching him, but she looks away whenever he tries to catch her gaze. Not that he wants to make awkward eye contact with her, he just wants her to leave him alone.

He continues to keep himself at a safe distance to avoid talking to her, making sure he's always involved in a conversation with someone else. Over the course of the party, he becomes progressively more resentful of how much mental space it requires to avoid her.

Then, like a hawk, she swoops in and catches him alone while he's in the kitchen grabbing another beer.

"Ron!"

"Jesus," he says, nearly crashing into her. "You scared me."

"Why are you being so weird?"

"I'm not."

"Is it because I saw you naked?"

"No."

"It's not a big deal, Ron."

Of course, she has the nerve to act like he's the one who's being childish.

"Oh yeah, Hermione?" he says. "Then why did you laugh? Too immature?"

Hermione opens her mouth to answer, but in the moment before she does, he turns away from her and shouts to the crowd, "Who's ready for True American?"

The loft whoops their approval and begins to gather in the living room.

"Right now?" whispers Hermione behind him. "We're still talking."

But he ignores her.

"The game is True American," shouts Ron at a volume much louder than necessary for the size of the room. "Say 'aye' if you've played before."

There's a chorus of 'ayes' and a room-wide scrambling toward the furniture. When everyone hops onto a cushion, a table, or a chair, Ron notices Hermione looking around frantically, her expression disheartened.

"I'm the only one who's never played?" she asks.

"It's okay, Hermione," says Harry. "All you need to know is that it's about fifty percent drinking, fifty percent life-size Candy Land."

"I'd argue that it's seventy-five percent drinking, twenty percent Candy Land, and the floor is lava," says Ginny. "Which is why we're standing on the furniture. Hermione, you're melting."

"Oh no," she says, hopping up onto the coffee table between the beer castle and Demelza, who extends a hand to help her.

"Honestly, guys, it's ninety-percent drinking and has a very loose Candy Land-like structure to it," says Neville. "There's also a truth or dare component."

"I just need to know how to play—"

"You're smart; you'll catch on," says Ron. His tone comes off a little more terse than he'd intended, so he quickly continues, "I'll start. JFK!"

"FDR!"

Everyone but Hermione shuffles to a new location, avoiding the lava floor, and Hermione is left standing in her same spot between the beer castle and now, Luna.

"What just happened?" she asks, looking confused.

"Hermione, since you're the last to find a new spot, you have to pick someone, and they'll ask you a truth or dare question," explains Ginny. "Just answer and drink."

"Okay, then," she says. "Um, Neville. Truth."

"How do you like loft life?" asks Neville brightly, eliciting a groan from the crowd.

"Neville, you can do better—" starts Seamus.

"It's her first game!" he says. "Let's ease her in. So, Hermione?"

"Well, it's great so far."

"Just so you know, not every question will be that tame," says Ginny from her precarious perch on the armchair.

"Go figure," says Hermione before chugging back a gulp of her PBR.

As soon as she swallows her drink, Neville shouts out, "The only thing we have to fear is…"

"Fear itself!"

When the crowd joins in, Hermione looks around the room, dumbfounded.

"Hermione, you didn't complete the quote," says Harry.

"I didn't know I was supposed to!"

"Well, now you do! Drink, and then pick someone."

"I feel like I'm at a disadvantage since you didn't explain the game," she says, challenging Harry.

"We've all been there," Harry says, shrugging, "It's a rite of passage."

"Fine," Hermione takes a long swig and points at Ginny. "Ginny, truth."

"Sweet!" says Ginny, beaming mischievously. "Hermione, are you attracted to anyone in the loft?"

Ron's ears tingle at Ginny's question, and he tunes in for Hermione's answer.

"Nope," she says, taking a hasty drink.

In his curiosity, Ron has made prolonged eye contact with Hermione for the first time since the penis-incident, but when she catches his gaze, he quickly looks away. Ron's stomach clenches. Not that he wants Hermione to be attracted to him, but after she saw him naked, it's quite the low blow. Trying to look casual, he pulls back a swig of beer.

"Really?" presses Seamus. "None of us?"

"Ginny's turn!" says Hermione, ignoring Seamus' question.

"Alright, here we go," says Ginny, her eyes narrowed in concentration. "Abe Lincoln! George Washington!"

"Cherry Tree!" shouts Ron.

"Correct! Pick a person and an amendment!"

"Hermione, second."

Everyone looks at Hermione, and Ginny tosses her an unopened can of beer.

"I don't understand," she says. "You still haven't given me any information."

"You have to shotgun a beer! And then pick someone to ask truth or dare," says Dean.

"Wait, what? That doesn't make any sense."

"Give it time, Hermione," encourages Neville. "I didn't understand it at first either."

Hermione groans and sets down her half-full PBR, and reaches into her pocket for her key. She stabs the bottom of her can, then tips it into her mouth, chugging it down while the loft's onlookers cheer in the background.

Eyebrows raised, Ron watches her shotgun her beer, trying to ignore the smile tugging at the corner of his lips. He never thought he'd see that, and he isn't complaining.

"Yeah, there's no going back now," says Hermione once she finishes. "Luna, truth."

"Yay!" says Luna. "Did you and Ron get into a fight? You've been avoiding each other all night."

Ron's face grows hot. He bores his gaze toward Luna, who is staring intently at Hermione and doesn't seem to notice Ron's glare.

"Is that really your question?" she asks.

"Yep!"

"Luna, you've never seen us interact," says Ron. "How would you know that?"

Luna shrugs. "I can just tell."

"You know what," says Harry as he looks between Ron and Hermione. "You two have been acting weird tonight."

"Is it that obvious?" asks Hermione.

Ron feels Hermione's eyes on him, and his palms break out in a sweat. Once again, his refusal to make direct eye contact probably serves as a sufficient answer to Hermione's question.

"Well, fine then," she says, turning back toward Luna. "Earlier, I walked in on him changing. But it wasn't a big deal."

"Ron, is this true?" asks Harry.

Everyone turns to look at Ron, who groans. "Yes, but as she said, it wasn't a big deal."

His roommates might as well be shining an interrogation light on him by the way they all continue to stare.

"If it wasn't a big deal, why are you all fidgety?" asks Seamus.

"I'm not," says Ron, but his defensive tone suggests otherwise.

"Yeah, women have seen you naked before, Ron," says Luna. "Why is it different with Hermione?"

"Whose turn is it?" says Ron, much louder than necessary. Anything to divert the attention from Luna's oddly specific question.

"Oh, it's my turn," says Luna. "One, two, three, go!"

Luna holds up the number five to her forehead, and everyone else follows suit with their own number. Ron looks frantically around the room and breathes a sigh of relief when he matches numbers with Harry.

It appears that Hermione, who was the last to catch on, as usual, is the only one without a partner.

"Not again!" she says. "But at least that one made sense. Seamus, truth."

"Are you sure you want to do that?" asks Ginny.

But it's too late. Seamus, who is already slurring his words, looks at Hermione and asks, "So, Hermione, what does Ron's dick look like?"

"Dude, what the fuck?" shouts Ron.

"Seriously, Seamus," adds Harry. "That's not even an interesting question."

"Sure, it is! I'm interested!"

"Old news," pipes in Neville. "We've all seen Ron's dick."

Embarrassed, Ron glances toward Hermione. She looks lost for words. "You don't have to answer, Hermione."

"No, we haven't!" says Seamus.

"Really?" says Dean as he side-eyes Seamus. "I've seen it, and I don't even live here."

Ron looks toward the loft door. Maybe he can make a run for it.

"Am I the only roommate who hasn't seen your dick?" asks Seamus, now appearing uninterested in Hermione's answer. When everyone in the room turns to look at Ron, he feels like he's naked in a crowd again.

Ron shrugs. "I guess so," he says, casually taking a sip of his beer.

"When? Where?"

"I don't know, dude. Locker rooms, penis fights, I'm sure you'll see it someday," says Ron. "Can we stop talking about my dick, now?"

"Yes, let's move on," says Hermione with an apologetic glance in Ron's direction. "Just ask me a different question."

"Fine," says Seamus, his words melding together, "Hermione, what did you think of Ron's dick?"

"Seriously, Seamus?"

"I guess we can't," mutters Ron.

Hermione rolls her eyes. "Whatever. He has a very nice penis."

"I wouldn't know," says Seamus bitterly. Then, just as quickly, "JFK!"

"FDR!"

Everyone scrambles for a new spot, and this time Ron's the only one left out in the shuffle.

"Fuck," he says, looking around for someone who won't ask him a dick-related question. "Uh, Demelza, truth."

Demelza smiles. "How did Hermione react to seeing your dick?"

"I picked you because I thought you wouldn't ask about my dick, Demelza."

"Sorry," shrugs Demelza.

"It wasn't a big deal," says Hermione.

Before he can stop himself, Ron scoffs, and once again, everyone snaps their heads in his direction.

"Sounds like it was a big deal."

"It wasn't!" says Hermione. "I mean—"

"Hermione, don't," says Ron, but Hermione continues without a missed beat.

"I laughed at first, but only because I was nervous."

"You LAUGHED?" asked Demelza. "No wonder you two are being so weird."

"It was an accident!"

"Let's move on," growls Ron. "Demelza, your turn." He shoots a glare in Hermione's direction.

"Niagara!" says Demelza.

Everyone brings their drink to their mouth and begins chugging. As soon as each person finishes, they toss their empty cans to the PBR castle in the middle of the room. Hermione, having caught on a moment too late, is the last one to toss it.

Hermione groans. "Harry, dare."

Harry grins. "Well, to make Ron feel better, I dare you to repeat after me. I love Ron's cock."

Ron's ears grow warm again, but they're also buzzing from the beer, which takes precedence over his embarrassment. Also, it'll be interesting to hear Hermione follow through with this dare.

Hermione narrows her eyes at him. "Fine. I love Ron's penis."

Ron sends her a curious glance. She said it so… formally, like she was taking an oath in court.

There's a tense silence while everyone stares at Hermione. "Try again," says Harry.

"Why?"

"I love Ron's cock," he repeats. "Say it."

"I did."

"You said penis. Not cock."

"Same thing!" she protests.

"Hermione, why can't you say cock?" repeats Harry.

"Penis is the technical term," she says, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Ron chuckles at the argument playing out before him.

"What about dick?" suggests Demelza.

Hermione stares at Demelza, her cheeks flooding with color. "Why?"

"Schlong? Wang? Knob?" offers Seamus.

"Seriously, what's wrong with 'penis'?"

"Nothing, it's just weird that you won't say cock," says Harry. "I think that should require two drinks for refusing a dare."

Ron looks around the room; everyone nods in agreement.

"Fine," says Hermione before taking a second sip.

As soon as she finishes her sip, Harry shouts, "Give me liberty or—"

"Give me death!"

As assumed, Hermione is the only one who doesn't catch on.

"Ugh," she says. "Dean, dare."

"I dare you to make it even!" slurs Dean.

"What does that mean?"

"He showed you his; now you show him yours."

"Executive order," says Ginny. "Vetoed."

"Why?" asks Ron. "I don't think it's a bad idea. Plus, it would make me feel better." He pouts at Hermione with wide, puppy-dog eyes and grins when her cheeks flood with color. He's well aware that she never responded to Dean.

"Too far, that's why," says Ginny.

"Well," says Ron. "You guys are no fun."

There's a moment of silence when no one seems to remember where they are in the game or whose turn it is. Seamus breaks the silence with a question directed at Ron.

"Can I please just see it?"

Ron groans and rolls his eyes. "No. And I'm going to bed."

"Why?" whines Seamus.

"I didn't think my dick would be such a huge topic of conversation, yet here we are."

"More of a slightly above average topic if you ask me," says Harry.

"See what I mean?" says Ron, as he hops off his cushion and turns his back to the crowd. "Goodnight."

After chugging a tall glass of water, Ron retreats to his room for the night, ready to escape his roommates' drunken shenanigans. He changes into sweats, settles underneath the covers, and is about to turn off the lights when there's a knock at his door.

"Erm, come in."

The door creaks open, and Hermione pokes her head into his room. "Hi," she says.

"Hi," he responds, raising his eyebrows at his unexpected guest. "Thank you for knocking."

"So—"

"I'm not naked. Sorry to disappoint you." He cuts her off, aiming for an icy tone, but unfortunately, it comes off whiny.

Maybe he has been acting a bit petty and childish.

She stares at him, expressionless, for a few tense moments and then bursts out into laughter. He can't help but follow suit. Her laughter is quite contagious when he's fully clothed.

"For the record, I'm not laughing at the thought of you naked," she assures him as if reading his mind.

"Sure, Hermione. Sure," he says. His cheeks are heating up, but he's glad it's not from embarrassment this time.

"I meant it, you know," she says, as soon as her laughter dies down.

"You meant what?"

"That you have a very nice—" she clears her throat, "cock."

Ron beams — at both the compliment and her word choice. "You said cock!"

She stands a little taller. "I've been practicing."

"Say it again!" he urges.

"Please don't make me."

"Pretty please—"

"Fine," she says, taking a step, so she's fully in the room. The door closes behind her. "Cock. Dick. Schlong. Willy."

"Okay, now you're embarrassing yourself."

"Give me more words," she says, now grinning. "I want to prove that I can do it."

"Okay, why don't you try Peter Pecker. Big Red. The Orange Cannon."

Hermione's face flashes red, and she slaps a hand to her mouth.

"Too much for you?" asks Ron.

"Did you nickname your penis?"

"No!" Ron protests, although his flushing cheeks likely give him away. "Those are from former lovers."

"Oh, well, I'm not going to say them then."

"Why not?"

"Because I'm not your former lover," she argues.

He catches a slight emphasis on' former' and forces himself to keep his expression neutral. Maybe some good will come from the penis incident. Either that, or he's imagining it.

"While technically true, I still want to hear you say them."

"Too bad."

Thankful that the awkwardness seems to be dissipating, Ron grins at her. "Then you'll have to make it up to me another way."

As soon he speaks, he winces, hearing the implication of his words a moment too late. Did he actually just say that?

Hermione doesn't waste any time with her response. "How? By making it even?"

Ron cannot interpret her expression — it almost looks like she's trying to keep it neutral. In his effort to decipher it, he hesitates for too long, and by leaving her comment hanging, he might as well have agreed.

"That was actually what I came in here to do," she says, biting her lip.

"Really?"

"Yes."

At this point, it feels like his whole face is on fire, and Hermione's smirk isn't helping at all. He can't bring himself to look away from her eyes nor say anything, as the air feels too thick with tension. She could be bluffing, but he has no desire to call her on it if she is.

Is she joking?

His question answers itself when Hermione averts her eyes to the ground and hooks her thumbs at the hem of her shirt.

Holy shit. She's not.

Hermione keeps her eyes on the ground, and Ron can't help but grin at how her cheeks turn bashfully pink. He wishes he could help it because he's definitely beaming like an idiot. With a deep, nervous breath, she pulls her shirt up and over her bra—

She's not wearing a bra.

Fuck.

Ron lets out a breath that he didn't even know he was holding. "Well damn, Hermione."

Still holding up her shirt, she meets his gaze. "Yes, Ron?"

"You have amazing… knockers."

"Ron!" she says, shoving her shirt back down. He immediately misses the view, but he doesn't regret his word choice. "They're called breasts."

"Boobies. Bing Bongs. Spongey love mountains."

"And I'm the immature one?"

"Jesus, woman, just take the compliment! I'm trying to tell you that I love your tatas." He speaks before he can filter himself, hoping she doesn't read too much into his phrasing. There's nothing wrong with showing appreciation, after all.

She lets a small smile at his admission but quickly narrows her eyes and crosses her arms over her now fully-clothed chest. "If I have to say cock, you have to say breasts."

"Sorry, Hermione," says Ron, his tone veering dangerously close to flirtation. Then, feeling a bit bolder, he continues, "what I meant to say is you have wonderful breasts."

Her face tinges red, and she smiles smugly. "Thank you, Ron."

"You're very welcome. Your turn."

"What?"

He motions toward his pants. "I want to hear you say it again."

She groans. "Fine, but this is the last time."

"Sure it is."

She rolls her eyes before continuing. "Ron, you have a lovely cock."

His breath hitches in his throat. Hearing her say that again definitely does something to him, and it's not helped by the sincerity in her tone. She's not lying. As a result, his hair stands on end, heat pools in his stomach, and he's thankful for the positioning of his bed covers.

"Thank you, Hermione," he responds, looking directly into her warm brown eyes. Reflecting her slight smile, they appear softer and darker than usual, as if they're deep in thought.

Ron and Hermione keep eye contact for a few elongated seconds before the awkwardness of the interaction kicks in, and they avert their eyes, looking anywhere but each other. What an odd conversation to have with a roommate.

"I should go to bed," says Hermione, pointing at the door.

"Erm, yeah. Me too."

"So I guess I'll see you in the morning?"

"Good night," he says, but Hermione's already out the door. He sighs.

It shuts behind her, and Ron turns off the light and leans back in his bed. When he closes his eyes, the image of Hermione's perfect breasts is still fresh in his mind, and he makes no effort to let it morph into something else because who knows if he'll ever get to see them again.

Why would he? She's just his roommate.

Yeah. I'm definitely attracted to my roommate.

A smile creeps onto his face. It feels good to admit it, even if it's only to himself.

#muggle AU #Ron and Hermione #ron x hermione #ROMIONE #romione fanfic #romione fanfiction #Romione angst #Ron Weasley #ronweasley #Hermione Granger #hermionegranger #be11a_loft

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talesmaniac89 · 4 years

Text

Choices - You Chose Dean

New to Choices? Start Here

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Choices is an interactive Supernatural choose your own adventure story where your choices determine the outcome and whether it’s a Dean x Reader or Sam x Reader. Go to the intro to start your story now!

Triggers: None really, some mention of Dean putting himself in harm’s way.

Choice: [You chose Dean Winchester]

Y/N = Your Name

—

“Right… So, to make sure we’re ready…” Dean said with a sigh, eyeing the signs as they passed by. The tense tone and hard voice of a soldier enough for you to tell you were quickly closing in on the farmhouse in question.

“There’s supposed to be five demons in there. We’ll have to take ‘em all out fast. Try to catch them off guard,” Dean spoke over the music, echoing the earlier plan and case details. Though you didn’t mind. It was better to be prepared. Know the case inside out. Especially when you were dealing with those slimy black-eyed bastards. They tended to try and wiggle their way free if you left them even the slightest bit of breathing room.

According to the briefing, the five demons had made themselves a cosy little home in the middle of farm town USA. Happily living their best evil little lives and causing havoc wherever they went. But they weren’t big shots. So, the fight shouldn’t be too hard for three experienced hunters. In, out, find a motel for a snooze if necessary and home in time for lunch tomorrow.

“We’ll have to split up. (Y/N), I think…” Dean started, those infuriatingly striking green eyes glancing up at you through the rear-view mirror and nearly leaving you tongue-tied. Damn him and his… Gorgeous fucking bastard. You couldn’t even think straight. Dean Winchester did things to your mind; filthy, explicit, breathless things. Leaving you mentally winded and unable to string two words together with just a flash of green or a blinding smile.

Yet you somehow still managed to get the protest out before he finished his sentence. The stubbornness of a hunter tackling the wanton daydreamer in you to the floor and wrestling the not-so-innocent devil on your shoulder into submission for long enough to let you find your voice again.

“I’m not sitting this one out Winchester,” You snapped back. Allowing your annoyance to mask the way the hunter always left you winded as you shot down Dean’s attempt to keep you out of harm's way. Like he did every hunt. Disguised as you either taking on the research-, backup- or otherwise removed from action roles.

Though he always failed. You were just as unwilling to see him hurt as he was to see anyone hurt. There was no way in hell you’d be able to sit a fight out and risk the man you loved (oh so very secretly and silently mind you) get hurt because of it.

“Alright… But you’re staying behind me,” Dean sighed after a moment. Clearly sensing the fight brewing as he backed off quite easily. Plus, even the infuriatingly protective hunter had to agree that 3 against 5 were still better odds than 2 against 5. No matter how much he wanted to go in, guns blazing, alone to keep his little brother and you out of harm’s way.

“Ok, so… We’ll head in the front, while Sammy goes around back?” You clarified; happy he’d dropped the fight for once. And doubly happy since you’d be right there by his side. Able to protect him and the heart you’d silently slipped him without him noticing.

“Yeah, after, we paint some Devil’s Traps outside. Give ‘em nowhere to run,” Dean’s voice was all business again as he revved the engine, green eyes hard as you sped down the old country roads. Straightening in your own seat, you felt the adrenaline start coursing through you. It was show time, and you were planning on kicking some serious demon ass.

---

“Nice place they’ve got here…” Raising an eyebrow, you kept your eyes on the dilapidated farmhouse through the trees as you stepped out of the car, hidden just out of view from the demon hideout. Unable to stop the disgusted shudder that crawled up your spine as snapshots from some of the goriest movies you knew flashed in front of your eyes.

It looked like something from a classic horror movie. You could nearly hear the Deliverance banjo music in the background as your eyes scanned the rickety porch and rotting wood. It was the kind of place you’d normally scream at the characters on the screen to run away from. Not in fear, but in pure exasperation. After all, nothing good was ever found in old abandoned farmhouses. The demons in the one in front of you just helped prove your point.

Following Dean to the back of the car, you kept your angel blade by your side as you busied yourself stocking up on holy water and enough iron to make Tony Stark jealous. Taking extra care to ensure everything was safely strapped to your body, and that none of the ‘pointier’ weapons would end up turning on you if you took a tumble. Though you knew you’d most likely just end up sticking to good ol’ reliable and angelic in your hand. The silver white blade thumping against your thigh matched your heartbeat. Adrenaline already coursing pleasurably through your veins from the thought of the upcoming fight.

You needed action, and you needed it fast. The nearly uncomfortable buzz in your body seemed to be reacting violently to the evil in the air, culminating in an itch in your bones that nothing but gunpowder and steel could scratch. So, as you finished building your wearable arsenal of guns, knives and all things pain-inducing, you glanced over at Dean, lips parted to get the show on the road. However, Dean wasn’t moving next to you.

The gun he’d picked up first still heavy in his palm as he stood frozen, watching you. Worry making the green summer days in his eyes cloud over like a sudden midday storm. The barely hidden pain in them squeezing at your heart as you readied yourself for words you knew would come.

“You don’t have to…”

“Yes, I do Dean,” You sighed, unwilling to even let him finish his usual attempt at making you sit the hunt out. The same frustrating song and dance as always, yet you couldn’t help the way your heart followed the rhythm of it. The kind, protective streak that made the hunter ask you that same question every time you set out to fight another monster was, after all, part of why you loved him.

Always so willing to carry every burden on his own shoulders, yet hiding that small, fragile part of himself that showed how everyone’s burdens were taking their toll. Keeping his own pain, his own burdens, hidden until he was alone in the bunker. Or at least, until he thought he was alone. You’d caught him more than once. Tired green eyes squeezed shut as he rested his head in his hands, gasping for breath through the onslaught of guilt and hurt. Strong shoulders shaking with unshed tears and the weight of the blame he placed on them.

He wanted to keep you safe. Not just you, but the whole god damned world. Still, he was just one man. One soldier in a war that had been raging since the beginning of time itself and he never put down his weapon. Always ready to jump back into the fray. Even as his armour cracked, and his blade dulled. Even as he collapsed under the weight of it all.

The family business; his life since childhood had forced him to hide away his fears as weaknesses. Shaping himself into a shield instead, as he readily threw himself into harm’s way if he believed it could save someone else. Dean Winchester lived like he had a death wish, even though he feared the unknown darkness that was waiting on the other side. Always a little too ready to sacrifice himself for the greater good.

Never seeing that he was greater than the sum of his sins. That he was good.

Never willing to believe that the world was a better place with him in it. Though to you it was. Hell… Without him in it, the world would just be a black and white imitation of its formerly vibrant self.

Because you knew the truth that he spent every waking moment trying to hide from the greedy world that just kept demanding more of its one-man army. That behind the soldier, there was a man with a big heart and a need to be loved. A young boy who was denied a childhood. A broken big brother that always blamed himself for pulling Sammy back into the life. A friend willing to sacrifice anything just to see you smile. And, a beautiful soul, who hurt and mourned deeper than anyone else whenever you failed to save someone.

Dean Winchester was a complex man.

He wasn’t just a hunter, brother, friend or secret keeper of your heart. Dean was a heartrendingly beautiful story with untold depths, a full unexplored universe. With all the nuances and colours that painted a picture of his painful history in scars, heartbreaks and timid smiles that he felt guilty for letting slip.

A story made up of all the stifled emotions and locked in screams, that easily brought those who knew him to tears. Peppered with small verses of agonisingly fragile hope and the long forgotten innocence of a childhood he never got to have. Hidden and hard to decipher among the many self-deprecating jokes and harsh rejections, yet not lost to you as it was to many others who saw the man as unfeeling and cold. Dean just had to grow up a little faster than most, it didn’t make him a monster, it didn’t make him any less human.

And you didn’t want to add new bruised and battered sentences to that story. You never wanted to be the reason for him to ever get hurt. So, as always, you told him the same thing you’d repeated for an immeasurable number of former hunts. Speaking into the quiet air around you as you grabbed one of the spray cans from the trunk.

“We’re in this together Dean. I’ve got your back, you’ve got mine. Forever,”

---

Straightening back up with a stifled groan you admired your work.

If all else failed and hunting didn’t work out, maybe you could turn to street art. The Devil’s Trap was expertly painted, if you’d say so yourself. Which you did. Albeit silently and in your own head, as to not alert the demons in the farmhouse to the right of you.

The trap you’d been assigned was the closest to the Impala, another attempt from Dean at keeping you safe. Yet, it was also the most likely escape route if the demons turned cowards and tried to run for the hills.

The sliding door just a few steps away to your right was not a planned entry point. So, they’d be most likely to try and use it to scutter away like the scared little black-eyed rats they were if it came down to that. So, your work had to be perfect. Allowing yourself just one more careful look over the symbols, you stepped back. Turning on light feet to carefully, and silently, re-join Dean by the front door.

The worry in green eyes had once more been replaced by steely determination once you made it back to the front of the farmhouse. Squaring his jaw, he watched you quietly jog up to him before just as soundlessly signalling for Sam to start moving towards the back door with a raised hand and to fingers pointed down the path around the house. His own eyes moving to lock onto the front door, weapon at the ready while he relayed the wordless orders. Missing the small nod from Sam as the younger hunter stayed crouched and quiet, moving before Dean’s hand even had time to straighten out and silently relay his next orders.

Lifting his hand to you, you frowned at the straight palm facing you. He was asking you to wait outside for his signal. To let him walk in through the front door first and act like your shield in case something went wrong.

Looking at him you gritted your teeth to keep the angry whisper at bay. Gripping your angel blade a little harder, you chose to instead just silently shake your head at him in protest. Catching his eye as he glanced away from the door to make sure you caught the order you tried to silently plead with him. But this time he wasn’t backing down.

His own wordless reply was just a repeat of the single hand gesture that was supposed to be your command and role in the coming battle. Green eyes leaving yours to cut off every silent argument you had as he kept his shoulders tense and jaw squared.

Your stubborn hunter wasn’t going to let you argue this time as he slowly but surely started moving forward, towards the door. Leaving you standing in the gravel, fuming silently.

—

Make your choice below to move the story along:

What do you do?

[Follow him in] or [Wait outside]

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Confused or New to Choices? Start Here Choices is an interactive Supernatural choose your own adventure story where you pick your Winchester brother and go on a hunt for one of 8 different endings in total. Four for Sam and four for Dean (2 happy and 2 bad endings per brother). Go to the intro to start your story!

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marril96 · 3 years

Text

Hopefully Forever

Characters: Rowena, reader, Sam, Dean, Castiel

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: A misunderstanding between friends leads to conflict and jealousy.

A/N: Based on a prompt by the lovely Loveless00 from AO3. AU, set post 15x03.

Editor: @miss-moon-guardian

*****

The atmosphere in the Bunker was dark, somber, as if the sky had turned gray and poured down a never-ending stream of rain. There was no usual chatter, no inappropriate jokes and the barking of laughter you usually found immensely annoying and now yearned for. Yearned for normalcy because this was not normal, far from it, and you hated it.

Unease roiled in your stomach like a whirlpool, your shoulders tense with discomfort. You didn't want to be here. You wanted to go home, far away from the gloominess, though, at this point, you were certain it would follow you anywhere you went.

Jack was dead. The rupture to Hell had been closed. Runaway ghosts returned to their rightful place. There was a problem with Belphegor absorbing the souls and attempting to make himself god, but that, too, had been dealt with. The fight was intense, brutal. It had taken a lot out of everyone. By the time you, Rowena, Sam, Dean, and Castiel had arrived at the Bunker, you were all collectively exhausted.

The sun was bright in the sky the entire trip, shining in your eyes even as you leaned on Rowena's shoulder and closed your eyes in a feeble attempt to rest them. Clouds were pearly white, sky the brightest, most beautiful blue. There was irony in that, as if God himself were playing an elaborate joke.

Given what you'd found out these past few days, you wouldn't put it past him.

An attempt at celebration was made, whiskey taken out and offered, but no one was in a party mood. Least of all Sam and Dean. It was understandable; they'd only just lost a boy who's been a son to them. Lost him to a man — a being — they trusted, only to end up betrayed. Who would have thought God, of all people, could be evil?

You were never a big fan, but that one time you'd met him years ago he seemed nice enough. Friendly. Nowhere near evil. Amara had been right back then (well, aside from the whole ending the world thing). You'd teamed up with the wrong deity.

"You alright?" you asked for what must have been the hundredth time in the past few hours.

Rowena, exhausted, eyes framed with midnight crescents as if she'd been struck, gave a small nod. "Aye."

You could tell she wasn't, though, given everything that happened, she was as okay as she could be. The fight had taken a toll on her. At one point, when all hope seemed lost at defeating Belphegor, she'd offered a sacrifice of her life, but you were quick to put a stop to it. Before Sam could even consider acting on their fate, you'd made it clear she wasn't dying — and, if she somehow did, Sam would be joining her soon after. Knowing you meant every word, she dropped the subject.

Accidents were one thing. But no matter how much you appreciated Sam for all he'd done for Rowena, how kindly he'd treated her, you would never let him live if he were to take her from you on purpose. Even if she were to give her blessing. You weren't going to lose her; not again, and certainly not for good. Not without consequences.

In the end, through everyone's joint efforts, Belphegor had been taken care of. Without a single life lost.

You squeezed Rowena's hand and pulled her to stand closer. Sitting in a chair, your head perfectly fit against her stomach. She let you nestle, her other hand caressing first your cheek and then your scalp.

"Are you?" she asked in that gentle tone that was so unlike her, that she reserved only for when the two of you were alone. Considering no one paid you any attention, you might as well be.

"Yeah. Just tired."

You would have headed straight home, but Lawrence was closer than the town you were in, so you decided to hitch a ride with the boys.

"We'll go home soon," Rowena said.

"Mmhm," you mumbled, comfortable despite the unpleasant fabric of her dress. You'd told her it was a ridiculous thing to get changed into, amidst a fight no less, but there was no changing her mind.

"We should have a toast," Sam suddenly said, startling you from your thoughts. He raised his glass of whiskey. "For Jack."

Everyone followed almost automatically, glassed up in the air.

"For Jack," Dean said, gulping the entire glass.

"For Jack," Castiel said with a nod, not one for drinks.

Rowena, too, joined in. "For Jack."

As did you. "For Jack."

The drink burned at your throat. You set your glass aside, face scrunched at the unpleasant taste.

Rowena, the experienced Scot, downed hers without issue.

"He was a good kid," Sam said. "We… we couldn't have asked for better."

That he was. You were no fan of kids, but there was something about Jack that made you like him. He was just… sweet. Kind. Good-natured, despite his parentage. Even after he'd lost his soul, he'd tried to do good. He'd done bad things, had made bad choices, but never intentionally. Never maliciously.

"He wasn't perfect, but he was our son," Sam said, eyes red with tears. "We loved him."

"That we did," Dean agreed, refilling his glass and gulping the contents.

Rowena's eyes prickled, almost as crimson as Sam's. You squeezed her hand in comfort. She wasn't the boy's biggest fan initially, but all it took for her to fall in love with him were a few kind words and a smile. He'd won her over in an instant. She would never admit to it, but you could tell she saw a bit of Fergus in him. The son she'd lost, that she'd abandoned. The son she would never forgive herself for not being able to see grow up.

Jack had lost his soul in order to get Michael out of her. In a way, she felt responsible. No matter how many times you assured her it wasn't her fault, she was adamant she bore part of the blame.

"He'll never be forgotten," Castiel said.

"No," Sam said, tears falling down his face. "He will not. We'll never…" He put his glass down. Gulped. Sucked in a breath.

"Sam?" Dean inquired, worried.

Shaking his head, Sam rushed past him. Past Castiel, and you, and Rowena, and up to the bedrooms.

Your heart clenched. Poor man. He'd tried so hard to save Jack, had fought so hard, only to lose him when he least expected it. It wasn't fair.

As you'd come to know in these past few years, life was rarely, if ever, fair. Fate, a cold-hearted bitch, had a tendency to strike the blindside. Sneak up like a criminal and hit where it hurt the most.

"I've got this," Rowena said when Dean started after his brother, holding her hand up to stop him. She lowered her glass next to yours and told you, "I'll be back in a flash, love."

A kiss to your scalp, and she was gone.

It made sense that she, of all people, would talk to Sam. It was him that had noticed she was hurting after her ordeal at Lucifer's hands. It was him that had given her a safe space to talk about it, and had, for the first time ever, opened up about his own trauma. It was him that had first given her a chance, when his brother had thought her nothing but a wicked villain.

The two of you loved each other, truly, deeply, but you could never understand her the way Sam did. It was a blessing, in a way; you'd never suffered the way they had, had never experienced that kind of agony. But you would be lying if you said you didn't wish you could comprehend it.

Now that Sam had lost a son, it was yet another thing the two of them had in common. Yet another thing you couldn't relate to.

Another blessing, as far as you were concerned, and, at the same time, a curse. Because, instead of being here, holding your hand, letting you lean on her, letting you feel her, she was there with him. You'd almost lost her mere hours earlier, and she was with him.

It was a selfish thought, and you instantly chastised yourself for it. She'd gone to comfort a friend, as he had in the past. She didn't have to spend every waking moment with you.

It wasn't healthy to want her to.

But, in some strange way, you were already missing her.

*****

Rowena walked in without waiting for a response for her knock and tenderly closed the door behind her. Sam was sitting on the bed, his back to the door, face hidden in his hands. If he took notice of her presence, he didn't show it. Didn't make a sound, a single gasp or a groan.

"Samuel?" Rowena said softly. The same way he'd said her name back when he'd decided to approach the issue of Lucifer, when he'd noticed she was hurting.

He was the one hurting now, and she wanted to return the favour.

You'd been there for her since day one and she appreciated it immensely. You'd held her hand, held her as she cried and wept and sobbed. You'd woken to her screams countless times in the middle of the night and whispered sweet nothings until she'd felt safe again. You'd stood by her, comforted her, loved her at her very worst, at her ugliest. Had never once given up on her, no matter how hard it was. No matter how bad the memories of her horrifying death had hit her.

You'd been there through it all.

But you didn't understand. You couldn't, having never endured anything remotely like it. Rowena was grateful for that, had hoped you would never even come close to understanding what she'd been going through. What she was still, even years later, going through.

Sam, on the other hand, knew exactly what it was like. He'd experienced Lucifer's cruelty first hand. Even though they were enemies, he didn't hesitate to offer her advice, to extend a helping hand. For a hunter, the man was kind to a fault. He'd had no issue talking to her about his experiences. Had no qualms about answering her calls when she couldn't fall asleep and didn't have the heart to wake you — and why would she? As much as you wanted to help, you didn't get it. You would — Rowena hoped; gods, she hoped — never get it.

Sam did. He had advice. A listening ear. Just hearing that soft "I know" every time she'd describe a new nightmare, a new feeling of dread, made Rowena feel better. Made her feel less alone for there was someone else out there, someone just like her.

Were it not for you and Sam, she doubted she would have managed to keep her sanity.

"Everything's fine," the hunter muttered, wiping at his face with his calloused hands. "I'm fine."

Just like she was fine after Lucifer. He might fool his brother with that nonsense, but Rowena knew better. She knew him better.

"Bottling it up will only make it worse," she said.

She would know; she'd kept her emotions in, had forced herself to not react, to not feel, until she got her power back and decided she couldn't — didn't want to — keep it in anymore. Until she'd exploded, literally, at Death herself.

"When I lost Fergus…" She gulped. Swallowed down a rush of sadness, of guilt that still ate at her like acid. Of all the things she'd done, she would never forgive herself the wrong she'd done her son. "When I heard of his demise, I completely lost my direction. And, well, you know how that went down."

She still wanted him back. Gods, she wanted it. Wanted her second chance. Hated herself, this world, God himself because she would never get it.

"It's okay to feel."

It was something you always told her, drilled into her, despite her conviction against it, until it stuck. She'd spent so much time, so many centuries, not feeling, that feeling was scary. It chilled her bones. It hurt. But it was necessary. It was what made her human.

"Jack was a lovely boy." The loveliest. Rowena wasn't a fan until she'd met him, until he spoke so kindly to her and gave her that smile that melted all the ice in her heart. Unlike what she'd thought, he was nothing like his father. He was a good person. A good boy. Another child she'd allowed herself to care for and lost because that appeared to be her curse. "You raised him well."

Sam raised his head. Allowed himself a sliver of a smile. "He was a good kid."

"He was," Rowena agreed. "You did your best for him."

The hunter shook his head. "It wasn't enough. He's still…"

He's still dead.

"You can't save everyone, Sam," Rowena told him.

"He was my son! I should've…" More tears fell. He wiped at them with his sleeve. "I should've done more."

Carefully, Rowena stepped towards him. Laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "You were there for him." Unlike her with Fergus. "You cherished him. You loved him." The things she didn't allow herself to do until it was too late. Until it didn't matter anymore. "Wherever he is now, I'm sure he appreciates it."

Unlike Fergus, Jack went to his death loved. He wasn't alone; in his few short years of life, he'd never been alone. He'd never been abandoned.

Sam gave a small nod. "Yeah. I just… He should be here. He didn't deserve to die."

"Children never do," Rowena said. Not even when they were centuries old and rulers of Hell. No parent wanted to lose their child.

Sam looked up at her, wounded puppy eyes meeting hers. Devastated. Broken. "Rowena, what am I supposed to do?"

Her heart shattered into a million pieces. She'd asked you the same thing once, a sobbing, shaking mess in your arms, guilt rummaging her from the inside out. "Keep living," you'd told her. "He'd want you to." And she did. No matter how much it hurt, she kept on living. She allowed herself to smile again, to laugh. To feel joy, even as grief was tearing her apart.

She didn't have to forget Fergus to move on.

She just needed to accept that he was gone.

"Keep living," Rowena said. "Jack wouldn't want you to suffer, would he? Keep him here." She brushed her hand against his scalp. "And here." Then his heart. "But don't let these feelings hold you down. You're a survivor, Sam Winchester. So survive."

He gave a bitter chuckle. "Easier said than done."

"Och, aye. But that doesn't mean you shouldn't try."

It was hard, but he could do it. Just like she had done it. She'd fought tooth and nail for it; fought herself, her heart, but in the end she'd managed to get her life back as much as she could.

A fresh batch of tears spilled from Sam's eyes. In a trembling voice, he muttered, "I miss him."

"Och, dear, I know." Rowena squeezed his shoulder in comfort. "I know."

His arms were suddenly around her waist, and, before she could react, he buried his face in her stomach and wept. A giant of a man, and he wept like an inconsolable child. Tears drenched the fabric of her dress, the cold brushing over her skin.

Rowena stood still, startled. Unsure how to respond. It was one thing when it was you, but this was Sam. Big, strong Sam. The fearless hunter. Her best — and only — friend in the world.

"It's okay, Sam," she said, patting his back. Rubbing gentle circles over it.

She let him hold onto her. Let him cry his eyes out and drench her dress. Let him seek comfort the way she'd sought his. He was fragile, a porcelain doll of a man. Easy to crumble. Trying his hardest not to, even as cracks enveloped his body.

Losing a child was the hardest thing a parent could endure. Even centuries earlier, when she'd forbid herself from loving Fergus, when she'd left him without a shred of regret, the news of his — first, human — death had pierced her heart like nothing before ever had. It was one thing to leave him, one thing to know he was among the living, but to find out he was no longer there? That he no longer breathed the same air, walked the same earth, looked at the same moon? It was too much even for the cold, heartless Rowena.

Losing him two years ago had hit twice as hard. This time she'd allowed herself to feel… something. Love, she'd realized, much too late. The thing that used to scare her, that she'd thought made her weak. She loved him now — she really did, more than she thought she was capable of. The way she should have loved him when he was a child. She'd gotten a second chance, and she'd managed to blow it.

It only made her miss him more.

Despite the hardened man he'd grown into, Fergus had been a gentle child. He was soft spoken, shy. Had loved to be held. Preferred to curl up against her rather than sleep on his own cot, no matter how cruel she was. No matter how much she hurt him.

Rowena would never forgive herself for not doing right by him.

Sam, at the very least, had that in his favour. No matter what, he'd never given up on Jack. Had never hurt him. Even when it was hard, when Jack had lost his soul and did horrible things, Sam never stopped loving him.

After a few moments of uncomfortable silence, Sam pulled away and started rubbing his face with the sleeve of his shirt.

"Sorry," he said, avoiding her eyes. Ashamed of falling apart in the arms of a person he never thought he'd get to call his friend. "I didn't mean to, you know…"

"It's fine," Rowena shrugged him off. Put on a friendly smile. "Good thing you didn't off me, isn't it?"

The hunter gave a small smile. "Definitely."

They joked about it now, but, at the time, Rowena was more than willing to put her life on the line. After all, everything fit — a demon mad with hunger for power, Sam, her. The prophecy fate had foretold, of her death at his hands. It was perfect. It was magic. And, if there was anything Rowena believed in, it was magic.

Had you not stepped in, had Dean and Castiel not found another way, things would have played out as intended. As fate said they would.

Rowena was okay with that. The last thing she wanted was to leave you, but if all the cards were right, if she could make the world safe for you to live in even at the cost of her not being in it anymore, she wouldn't regret a thing. No matter how much you hated her. Magic came first.

You came first.

"I'll kill you," you'd said — spat, bitterly, venomously — as Rowena had shoved the knife in Sam's hands. "I swear to god, you lay one hand on her, and you're dead."

"Y/N—" Rowena had tried, only to be cut off.

"No! I'm not losing you. I can't. Either you both live, or you both die. I don't give a damn about fate, or the world. You're the most important thing in my life, and I'm not gonna let some hunter take you from me just because you say it's fine. It's not fine with me."

Rowena knew you would do it. You wouldn't hesitate, not for a moment, to avenge her. Even if she was okay with dying. Even if she'd resigned to her fate.

You loved her too much for your own good. The fact both flattered and frightened her.

Sam got to his feet. Sucked in a large breath. He was a giant of a man, towering over her, but still broken. Still a sad wee thing. Not a single intimidating bone in him.

"I'm sorry," he said. "About that. I didn't wanna kill you."

She didn't exactly want to die, either.

"I don't know what I would've done if it had come to that."

He would probably be dead, sipping martinis down with her in Hell.

Rowena decided to keep that particular comment to herself.

"I still mean what I said back then," he said with such determination Rowena didn't have the heart to squash. "I want to change our fate."

The truth was, it couldn't be changed. They could try, but she doubted there would be results. Fate was a clever thing; it took what it wanted, exactly the way it wanted. Rowena doubted she and Sam would be one of the few lucky enough to trick it.

She strived for it, but she didn't allow herself to hope. She couldn't for hope had done nothing but lie through its pearly white teeth.

"Me, too," Rowena said. And she did, she truly wanted it. She just didn't think it would accomplish much.

It was worth a try, though. Anything that allowed her to be with you, to have you for more than just a few measly years, was worth at least a consideration.

"I don't wanna lose you," Sam said.

Rowena offered him a smile, one of those that reciprocated his words without her having to utter a single one of her own. You were the love of her life, but she needed someone on the outside. Someone who knew what it was like to live in fear and wake up soaked in sweat.

She needed a friend.

"You're getting sappy, Winchester," she teased.

"Sorry," Sam said with a flicker of a smile. A tease of his own. "I just… I really like having you around."

"Likewise," she told him. He was a good person. Gentle. Kind. Witches and hunters weren't meant to be friends, yet here they were, defying odds. Hoping to defy fate, as well.

If they didn't make it, if fate played out as it was supposed to, at the very least you wouldn't be alone. You and the Winchesters weren't the best of friends, but they would be there for you. They would protect you, if any rogue hunters were to come calling.

Rowena would be leaving you in safe hands.

"But don't tell anyone I said that," she joked. "I have a reputation to uphold."

"You got it," Sam said with a chuckle.

He stepped toward her. Laid his hands — his massive, calloused hands — on her shoulders; a surprisingly tender gesture for a giant such as him. His eyes fell on hers, soft and lovely. A warm smile grazed his face, lit it up in spite of the tears still drying on his cheeks.

Rowena stared, frozen. Not daring to move for she feared it would make everything worse. He was going to hug her, wasn't he? He was going to wrap his arms around her and envelop her in a bone-crushing hug like the bloody sap that he was, and there wasn't a thing in the world she could do about it.

Oh, well. As much as it disgusted her, it was just a hug. It was a thing friends did. She would survive. So long as nobody saw.

It had taken her a while to get used to your hugs, and even more so to allow herself to initiate them. Maybe it was time that she stopped averting hugs from friends, as well.

It was a human gesture, she reminded herself. It wasn't a weakness. It didn't hurt. Just the opposite — it was a sign of love. She didn't have to throw her arms around every person that smiled at her or engage in sweet talk with strangers.

She could hug a friend, in private, away from prying eyes.

She mentally prepared herself, readied her arms to lock around Sam's back, but the embrace never came. Instead, the hunter's eyes fell to her lips, and so did his mouth, and before she could process what was going on, he was kissing her, full force, tongue breaking in.

Rowena shoved him off with all the strength she could muster. "Samuel," she said, completely and utterly baffled, "what in hell are you doing?"

"Yeah, Samuel," you said from the doorway, a storm brewing in your eyes. Furious. Deadly. "What in hell are you doing?"

As if things weren't already bad enough.

Bollocks!

*****

There were only so many stories about Jack you could listen to without tearing up. You weren't close to the boy, but, damn, all the little anecdotes Dean and Castiel shared about him made him feel like family.

It wasn't a hard feat to accomplish; he was a good person, a good kid. Easy to love and get along with. The only Winchester (well, technically) you genuinely liked to be around.

"There he was," Dean was saying, lips twitching with humor, "flipping through Busty Asian Beauties with this confused look on his face. When I snatched it back, he asked why they were all naked. Sam was pissed I left my magazine out in the open, but, man, it was worth it." His face turned dark, somber. He finished what had to have been his fifth glass of scotch. "It was worth the memory."

It surely was. It was weird how random things, however meaningless, seemingly insignificant, made for some of the best memories. Like that time Rowena had gotten up on her tiptoes to grab something from a higher shelf and spilled the contents all over herself. Or the time she was teaching you a spell and you'd turned your hair purple on accident — and had kept the color until it faded naturally, much to Rowena's utmost annoyance.

Every moment mattered. However small, it had value once it became a memory. Once the person you shared it with was gone, forever.

You took a sip of your drink and grimaced at the taste, but gulped it down in stride. It was easy once you got the hang of it. Once it started making the reminiscing more bearable, started making your eyes stop welling up with tears you were barely holding back.

These were private moments. Intimate. Meant for family which you would never be part of. It felt wrong to listen in on the grief, to intrude on it.

You didn't want to be here anymore. You wanted to go home.

You wanted Rowena.

She'd been gone an awful while, and you were missing her immensely. What was going on with her and Sam? Had the hunter fallen apart — literally — and she had to reassemble the pieces, one little bit at the time?

You understood he needed comfort, understood Rowena's need to provide it, but it was taking too long. Way longer than it usually took them to talk.

It would be rude to interrupt. But, at the same time, it would be rude to stay here, to invade on someone's grief. To sit around awkwardly while they shared memories that meant everything to them, and not a single thing to you.

You were tired. Overwhelmed. Events from earlier still replaying in your head, an endless rerun of fear and desperation. All you wanted was to curl up with Rowena — in your house, in your bed — and fall asleep to the gentle beats of her heart.

Finishing your drink, you rose up to your feet and headed for Sam's room. If Dean and Castiel noticed your absence, they didn't comment on it, lost in their reminiscing.

The hallway was quiet. Not a single noise within earshot; not a mosquito, not a fly. It was weird, but a welcome sensation nonetheless. Silence beat the quacking of crowds and the sounds of busy traffic. One of the reasons you used to hate staying in hotels Rowena loved. They were lovely, the highest of class, but there were too many people. Too much noise.

It had been a struggle to convince Rowena to settle down in the suburbs. She'd only relented once you'd agreed for it to be a wealthy one. The woman was nothing if not classy.

Sam's room was silent. There was no muttering, no soft, hushed voices. No noise of movement. You knocked shyly, once, twice. Had they gone somewhere else to talk? If they had, where? The bunker was large; there were rooms you'd never been to. Rooms you were pretty sure Sam and Dean themselves had never been to.

They could be anywhere.

You felt your phone in your pocket, prepared to use it if Rowena weren't here, and then slowly pushed the door open.

You expected to find them sitting in silence. Expected to find Rowena whispering words of comfort, and Sam with his face buried in his hands. Hell, expected an empty room.

Expected anything — everything — other than the two of them standing close to each other, so close their bodies brushed together. His hands on her shoulders, holding her steady, in place. His eyes on her mouth, his lips connecting with hers.

Rowena pushed him away and said, "Samuel, what in hell are you doing?"

Your teeth clenched. Hands balled into tight fists. Stomach churned with unease, with anger that bubbled and boiled. Magic burned in your veins, ready to break free at your command. Ready to attack, to obliterate its target.

"Yeah, Samuel." You spat the name like it was filth, the worst of poisons. "What in hell are you doing?"

Startled, Rowena spun toward you. Her face, pale as that of a ghost, was pure shock. Fear for you were certain she knew what was to come. She knew you.

"In fact," you hissed at her, "what in hell have you been doing?"

You didn't want to imagine the possible scenarios, didn't want those images in your head, but they kept coming. Sam and Rowena's hands twined together. Lips locked in a kiss. Mouths wide in smiles. Lost in each other, Dean and Castiel and Jack forgotten.

You forgotten.

You shook the thoughts off. Tears prickled at your eyes; you willed them back, didn't dare let them fall. It's not real, you told yourself. It didn't happen.

But what if it had? What if their bond — their unique, impenetrable bond — drew them to each other more than it already had? What if it made them realize they were it for each other, soulmates forged in pain, in trauma no one but the two of them could comprehend?

They'd both suffered under Lucifer. They'd both lost a child. They understood each other better than anyone could ever understand them; understood each other's grief, struggle to sleep at night.

It would only be natural for them to fall for each other.

You'd loved Rowena for years, but you couldn't measure up to Sam. You couldn't protect her. Couldn't comfort her the way she deserved. Couldn't understand the pain she was going through daily, even now, years after her horrid death at Lucifer's hands.

Sam could. He knew exactly what it was like. He could give her advice on how to deal with it, teach her to cope.

All you ever did was hug her, tell her you loved her, and hope for the best.

It wasn't enough. You weren't enough.

"Nothing," Rowena said. "I've done nothing. This isn't—"

"I-I'm sorry," Sam said. "I don't know what came over me. I didn't… I didn't mean to..."

"What, shove your tongue down her throat?" you snapped.

"No, that's not—"

You cut him off sharply. "I have eyes, Sam!"

"There was no tongue," Rowena said.

"Is that supposed to make it better?"

Tears spilled down your face, defying your containment. A part of you always knew something like this would happen. Rowena was too big of a person, too grand, too powerful to settle for a lowly witch such as yourself. It was only a matter of time before she decided she'd had enough and moved on to someone better.

You were an idiot to think it would last forever.

Rowena sighed, then, sucking in a deep breath, looked you in the eyes. "Nothing happened, Y/N. I promise."

There was sincerity in her tone. Honesty. Maybe she was telling the truth. Maybe nothing had happened.

But…

"I know what I saw," you said.

He'd kissed her. He'd held her, and looked at her, and kissed her, and he'd meant it. She'd pushed him away, but that didn't change the fact that his lips captured hers in a way they shouldn't have. Not while you were dating her. Not while she was your girlfriend.

"She's telling you the truth," Sam said. You whipped a glare at him, and he held his hands up in a placating matter. "I misunderstood the situation and I kissed her, but she — she pushed me away. She didn't do anything. It's on me. I swear."

You scowled. Looked from him to Rowena, back and forth as his words settled in.

"Is that a habit for you, kissing other people's girlfriends?" you spat bitterly. "I've heard rumors about your unconventional dating history, but holy shit!"

Sam ignored the remark. "It was an acc—"

"Oh, don't bullshit me!" you snapped.

"Y/N—" Rowena tried.

You held up a hand. "No! He doesn't get to bullshit his way out of this."

Talking to her, giving her assurance in the middle of the night when she couldn't fall asleep was one thing. You didn't like it, but you knew it was necessary. Rowena needed a friend. Needed someone who knew what she was going through, who could comfort her in ways you couldn't. Needed a good, loyal friend.

She didn't need another lover.

"Darling, please," she said softly, placatingly. "Calm down."

You stared at her, incredulous. "Why are you defending him? Did you want to kiss him?"

"Would I have pushed him away if I did?"

"You tell me."

She sighed, frustrated. "Goodness, lass! Are you hearing yourself?"

"Am I supposed to be okay with my girlfriend making out with her best friend?"

"We were not making out!"

"We weren't," Sam confirmed. "She was there. She was nice to me, a-and I just… I don't know why I did it."

"You did it because you wanted to!" you screamed, and, as your anger flared, so did your magic. Without you even having to shout out an Abi, a force knocked Sam backwards and slammed him into the wall.

If he didn't want to kiss her, he wouldn't have. He wouldn't have laid his hands on her shoulders and looked at her with lust in his eyes. Wouldn't have tried to make excuses.

You should have known it would lead to this. Their bond was strong; it was only a matter of time before one of them caught feelings. Intense friendships like that didn't stay friendships for long.

To think you used to encourage it. Despite your unease at Rowena spending time with the man fated to kill her, you'd encouraged her to talk to him. Encouraged her to open up, to be herself with the one person in the whole wide world who knew what it was like to live with that kind of trauma.

And for what? For him to try to take her from you?

"Y/N!" Rowena exclaimed, startled by your outburst. "Calm down, love. It's okay."

"None of this is okay!" you yelled.

The cupboards and closets shook as your magic pulsated, wild, unstable. Drawers rattled. Lights flickered.

"You have a right to be upset," Rowena said, taking a careful step toward you. Two. Three. Her eyes trailed the trembling furniture before settling back on you. "But you need to calm down, darling. You don't want to do something you'll regret."

You wanted to do plenty of things you would regret, needed to do them, the urge so strong it hurt to resist it, but she was right. You needed to calm down.

For your sake. For Rowena's.

It had been an eventful day. Draining. A rollercoaster of emotions. You had no issue with hurting Sam, no issue with killing him for you'd already wanted to do so earlier, but it didn't take a genius to know harming a hunter in his own home, with his aggressive, overprotective brother and an angelic friend inside.

It would be suicide.

A part of you didn't care, though. A part of you wanted to hurt him. Wanted to make him pay for wanting to take away the one person you'd had left in your life. Sam had lost Jack, but he still had a family. He had Dean, and Castiel, and Eileen, and Jody, and Donna.

You, on the other hand, only had Rowena.

No matter what he was feeling, how caught up in the moment he was, he had no right to try to take her from you.

"What the hell's going on here?" Dean demanded, running toward you with Castiel in tow. His eyes fell on Sam, grimacing on the flood, cheeks streak with tears, then shifted to Rowena, and finally to you. "What happened?"

His tone was more an order than a question. He demanded an answer, and he would get it.

A childish part of you wanted to counter him just to be difficult. Instead, you said, "You raised Sam, right? Should've taught him not to touch things that aren't his."

"What are you talking about?" Another demand, no less firm than the first.

You brushed the tears clouding your eyes. Cursed the new ones that instantly replaced them. "Ask him."

Settling one final flare upon the younger Winchester, you turned on your heel and walked out. You couldn't stay here anymore. Couldn't stay in this room, in this Bunker. Couldn't breathe any more of this stale air.

You felt your magic subside, a raging storm fading into a warm summer breeze. You could have killed him for what he'd done, what he'd tried to do. Should have killed him.

If it were anyone else, you would have.

You hoped you wouldn't come to regret it.

*****

Well, that certainly was, as people today tended to say, a shiteshow.

Rowena breathed in, deep and hard. Her racing heart slowed, muscles sprung free from the tension. This certainly wasn't the maddest thing you'd caught her doing, but it was bloody near the top.

She knew how uneasy you were about Sam. Knew you disapproved of their friendship, of them being anywhere near each other ever since you'd found out he was fated to kill her. You wanted her safe, away from danger, but you didn't complain. You knew she needed someone like Sam in her life, and you didn't want to try to take him away from her.

Only to walk in on him kissing her.

Rowena couldn't blame you for your reaction. It was extreme, yes, but so was the situation. It wasn't every day that you walked in on your girlfriend's best friend kissing her.

She would have been angry, as well. She would have caused an even worse scene.

"Sam are you okay?" Castiel asked.

"I'm fine," Sam said, rising back to his feet.

Dean's eyes whipped around from him to Rowena, confused, angry. He eyed the shifted furniture, the drawers that had fallen open as slivers of your magic roamed the room. "What the hell happened?"

It was a long story, one Rowena wasn't willing to tell. Not now, after everything. She sighed. "I'm afraid we are going to have to cut our visit short."

Castiel tilted his head. "Why?"

Sam's eyes, uncertain, hurt, shifted to Rowena. She instantly looked away, avoiding his stare. She wasn't going to talk about it. Not now. The two of them needed to talk, needed to settle this mess his so-called misunderstanding had gotten them into, but Rowena needed to sort it out with you, first.

The last thing she wanted was for you to think she wanted Sam to kiss her. She cared about him, she did, but you were the one she loved. You were the one who'd taught her it was okay to love, that it wasn't a weakness. That she was still capable of it.

That she still deserved to be loved.

She would be an idiot to throw it all away for a hunter.

She felt for Sam; it wasn't easy to lose a child. It was only natural for him to seek comfort in her. But not like this. The two of them would never be anything more than friends.

"Rowena—" he started, but she put her hand up, cutting whatever it was he wanted to say off. She didn't want to hear it. Not now.

"We'll talk later," she said in a tone that left no room for argument. She shot him a look that said as much, softer than a glare but still intense. Still clear that, as much as she understood his vulnerability, she wasn't happy with what he'd done.

Her heels clicked as she stormed down the hallway, eyes flying wildly and up to the library to pick up her bag. The Bunker was unusually quiet, damp air colder, atmosphere gloomier than earlier. Rowena spotted her glass, undisturbed where she'd left it earlier, refilled it, and gulped the contents down.

Some liquid courage wouldn't hurt.

She found you outside, leaning on the railing, eyes glued to the road.

"There you are!"

You didn't look at her, didn't move a single muscle. Instead, you simply said, "The cab'll be here soon."

The coldness of your tone stung like a slap to the face. She was certain a slap would hurt less. "You called a taxi already?"

You shrugged. "Figured you'll either come, or you won't."

"Well, I'm here."

"Good for you."

Rowena supposed she should have seen that coming. She walked up to the railing and lowered her bag to the ground. "Y/N, we should talk."

"Maybe," you said, feigning nonchalance. Voice breaking at the edges for, no matter how hard you tried, you could never hide your emotions from her. You weren't that good a liar.

"I really didn't want Sam to kiss me," she said. Poured all her honesty, all her emotions, raw and pulsating, into those words. She wanted you to know she meant it. Needed you to believe it, to believe her.

She loved you with all her heart, in ways she'd never loved anyone before.

Losing Fergus' father had turned her heart cold and cruel.

Losing you would kill her.

She would never do anything to risk it. Would never do anything — would never dare — to hurt you to the point you wanted to leave. Not on purpose. She hoped you knew her enough to know that.

You said nothing. Did nothing, made not a single movement. Your eyes remained glued to the road as if you were in a trance.

Rowena's heart sank. It broke her to see you like that. You had every right to be upset, to be angry, but it hurt to be treated to nothing but silence. She would prefer to be yelled at, to be insulted and cursed at out loud, to nothingness.

"We were just talking," she said when the silence got too long, too much to handle. Too suffocating to breathe. "About Jack. About what we've lost. I suppose he took it the wrong way." Wasn't that an understatement of the century? Sam owed her an explanation, and she hoped he had a good one. As hurt as he was, he had no right to do this to her. No right to cause trouble in the first meaningful relationship she'd had in centuries. "I pushed him away. You saw that."

Your lip trembled; finally, a reaction. A tear slid down your cheek. "It wasn't… pleasant to walk in on that." You spat the last word out like filth.

Rowena gave a nod. It certainly was not; far from it. If it had been her, there would have been far more damage than some half-opened drawers. You'd handled it well, for a witch. For a girlfriend as protective as yourself.

"Would you be chill if it was you?"

It was a rhetorical question, but, with a snort, Rowena said, "Hell no."

"Exactly." You breathed in and out, pondering on the situation, on the words to come. Squinted against the blinding sun. When you spoke up, your voice was trembling like a bridge amidst a hurricane, "I just figured it was gonna happen, sooner or later."

"What do you mean?"

"You and Sam." You sniffled as tears drenched your face like a downpour. "I can't give you what you need. Not like he can."

"What are you talking about?" she asked.

"I can't understand you like he can," you said with a whimper. "I can't make you better. But he can. You've been doing so much better ever since you started talking to him."

Rowena stared as if you'd suddenly grown a second head. Baffled. Dumbfounded to her core. You'd been there for her since day one. Even back when she was an evil witch who didn't give a damn about you, you were at her side. Not once had you given up on her. Not once had you turned your back on her. All she knew about love and kindness, you'd helped her rediscover. You'd helped her reawaken those parts of her she'd thought were long gone.

To think she would throw it all away for a hunter…

Sam had been an immense help. He'd been there for her when she was at her worst, at her most vulnerable. She'd come to care about him in ways she never thought she would. Had come to call him a close friend.

But that was all he was — a friend.

You, on the other hand, were the love of her life. Sam Winchester could never measure up to that.

"Sam is my friend," Rowena said, looking you straight in the eyes. Making sure she got her point across, loud and clear. "It's true he's been a tremendous help, but he's nothing more than a friend." She grabbed one of your hands. Squeezed it so hard her knuckles flashed white. "He is not you."

No matter what he did, how good he treated her, he would never be you. Not even close.

"You're my wee lamb," she told you. A small smile bloomed on your mouth, and she grinned, victorious. "My lovely lass. My darling. My—"

"Okay, I get it," you said, chuckling. "You love me."

"I bloody do."

"I love you, too."

Oh, she knew. She'd known since the very start.

"I just… I don't wanna lose you," you admitted.

"You won't," Rowena assured you. "I'm hard to misplace, love."

"I don't know. You are kinda small."

She pouted, feigning offense. "Mean."

You laughed. Then, face growing serious, said, "I don't want you to be alone with Sam anymore. It's not that I don't trust you — I do. But I don't trust him."

"Okay," Rowena said.

She usually would have fought such a demand. She was an independent woman, tough, strong willed. Nobody's little plaything. She did what she wanted, when she wanted, with whoever she wanted, no permission needed. No permission wanted. But, despite every single nerve in her, every cell, every fraction of her being, wanting to rebel, she understood why you were asking that of her.

Sam had crossed the line. You'd trusted him with her, and he'd broken that trust. Had crushed it in a way neither you nor Rowena had expected.

It may have been a moment of weakness, a moment of sheer vulnerability, but that didn't make it right.

"I will sort this out, darling," Rowena promised.

"Okay," you said with a small nod. "You do that. Because if I…" You swallowed, hard. "If he tries anything again…"

You would do more than just throw him into a wall.

The implication was clear. The threat lingering around the words left unsaid.

"He won't." Rowena swore it on her life.

Sam was a smart man; he could be reasoned with. He knew what he'd done was wrong.

He would be a bampot to try anything similar again.

As much as Rowena cared about him, she cared about you more. You came first. That much had to be clear to him.

Your hand captured in hers squeezed back, Fingers twined in an unbreakable knot. You gave her a smile, one of those bright, genuine ones that always made her heart jump. "You're my girl."

"You know it, dear," Rowena said, loud and proud. Ready to shout it to the moon and back.

She leaned against you, lowered her head on your shoulder. You pressed a soft kiss to her scalp and wrapped an arm around her, holding her close. Never wanting to let her leave.

She had no intention of doing anything of the sort.

You were stuck with her, for as long as you wanted to be. For as long as this cruel, cruel universe allowed it.

Hopefully forever.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @shadowgirl-vsb @rowenaswife @wonderifshelikesroses @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @angel7376 @cherrypierowena @evil-regal-vampiress @hellbentredhead @angel-e-v-a @a-queen-and-her-throne @carryon-doctor-lock @fangirlxwritesx67 @mintymarshmellows @midnight-lestrange @osterhagen @impala-1979 @gracib16 @feelsandotps

#rowena #rowena macleod #spn family #spn #supernatural #rowena x reader #rowena macleod x reader #my fics #fanfiction #sam winchester #dean winchester #castiel

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profoundnet · 3 years

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PROFOUND MEMBER MASTERPOST FOR NOVEMBER 2020!

Featuring Destiel/Gen works by jscribbles, Jeanne_de_Valois, tiamatv, LeafZelindor, prosopopeya, DragonSgotenks, sketching-fox, kittimau, castielslostwings, FriendofCarlotta, universalsatan, Idjit_01, Destielshipper4Cas, purple_charlie, Maleyah, noeizumispn, kitmistry, TheSongSmith, one_more_offbeat_anthem, interstitial, JusithAndronicus, ArielAquarial, queer-things-do-happen-dean, goldenraeofsun, andimeantittosting, and starprincecas.

Join us on Discord!

Masterpost below the cut.

jscribbles - jscribbles

I’ll Go With You (G, 4.7k)

A coda to 15x18 "Despair".

He hadn't said anything. He hadn't said anything when he'd been given the chance.

Tags: 15.20, reunion, grief, love confession

We Are Real (M, 2.4k)

Smutty sequel to I'll Go With You.

Dean hadn't kissed him yet.

But they were alone now, and free.

Tags: 15.18, smut

404 Error (G, 500 words)

How hablo espaniol?!!

I DON'T KNOW. Neither does Dean.

Tags: spoilers for 15.18, based on spanish dub, crack fic

The Weight of Silence (E, 26k)

The weight of silence is heavy on Dean's shoulders as he learns to live a new kind of life in Heaven. In classic Winchester-style, despite being in a place that isn't supposed to have pain and suffering, Dean rebels against it by being straight-up fucking miserable.

Tags: depression, mentions of john winchesters garbage parenting, canon compliant, 15.20 fix it coda, happy ending, smut, romance, love confessions

Jeanne_de_Valois - Jeanne_de_Valois

Free Bird (G, 1.7k)

Heaven is an open road and not having to pay for gas.

Heaven is a greasy sandwich and a novelty-sized candy bar.

Heaven is awkward, shuffling, confusing.

Heaven is getting to say what you wished you said, a lifetime ago.

(A Coda to Supernatural 15.20- Carry On)

Tags: Post-Episode: s15e20 Carry On, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Requited Love

tiamatv - tiamatv

Stone and Flesh (E, 6k)

Dean didn’t think, even in his filthiest imaginings, that Cas would sound like this in bed—loud, eager, easy with it. He doesn’t give a fuck who hears him enjoying himself. Though maybe Dean should have known. It’s not like Cas has ever once held back on anything he ever wanted to say or do—

Didn’t he?

(Not quite an episode coda for S15e18 per se, but more a "what comes after.")

Tags: AU - canon divergence; Post-Episode S15e18: Despair; Canonical Character Death; Selectively Mute Dean Winchester; Hopeful Ending

Domestic (T, 5.6k)

A little less than a year after the world doesn’t end, he and Cas get married.

Tags: AU - Canon Divergence; Future Fic; Tooth-Rotting Fluff; Domesticity in the Men of Letters Bunker; Kid Fic

Bight (E, 2.5k)

“Do you want more?” Cas asked, against Dean’s thigh. His thumb strummed gently at the soft, folded-up pocket behind Dean’s bound knee.

It tickled, but… didn’t.

Dean didn’t know what the answer to that was.

Tags: AU - Canon Divergence; Rope Bondage; Gentle Dom Castiel; Sub Dean Winchester; Praise Kink

LeafZealindor - @leafzelindor

Artwork for “break to let the light in” DCBB2020 (SFW)

Artwork draw for the DCBB2020 fic "break to let the light in"

Tags: fluff, touching, intimacy. Accompanied by fic by PeppermiintsPlease.

prosopopeya - prosopopeya

Like Real People Do (G, 4.9k)

Castiel experienced a moment of pure happiness, expecting it to be his last.

It wasn't.

Tags: Post-15x18, canon divergence, first kiss, angst with a happy ending, first kiss

Under the Same Sun (E, 14k)

In which time is infinite, and so is the list of people willing to help Dean figure out what to do about Cas.

A fix-it for a lot of things: Dean's repressed bisexuality, Dean's utterly inexplicable failure to realize what Cas meant, the Charlie & Dean brother/sister content I crave, among others.

Tags: Internalized biphobia, Charlie Bradbury & Dean Winchester, angst with a happy ending, post-series, Heaven fic

DragonSgotenks - DragonSgotenks

Say Cheese (E, 50k)

Dean Winchester is thirty, flirty, and thriving, or at least that's how his best friend Charlie describes him. Either way Dean feels pretty good about his life. He has a decent job, a nice house, and a great group of friends and family. Sure his brother's been living hundreds of miles away to attend law school and an internship, and yeah maybe he wasn't working his dream job, and so, okay, he spent most nights zoning out in front of the tv alone but that was fine. Dean was fine. Until he gets a call about a daughter he didn't know existed and suddenly Dean's quiet (boring) life is turned upside down.

Castiel Novak is a photographer whose passion lies in capturing the beauty of nature. However to pay the bills he works part time at the mall doing portrait photography. Sure it might not be as artistic as he'd like and his odd hours make for a dull social life but he's still doing what he loves. He especially enjoys doing the kids photos and over the last couple of years he's built a bit of a reputation for always getting the shot no matter how unruly or stubborn a child might be. So when a handsome father brings in his grumpy little girl for pictures Castiel thinks it will be just another photo shoot.

He's wrong.

Tags: Destiel, Single parent Dean, kidfic, bottom Dean/top Castiel, mentions of childhood trauma, eventual smut, past Lydia/Dean

sketching-fox - @sketching-fox

Dean Winchester Monster Fucker (NSFW)

Arts done for Dean Cas Big Bang in my partnership with LoversAntiquities.

Tags: alleyway, impala, mature content. Accompanied by fic by LoversAntiquities.

kittimau - @kmauspn - kittimau

Beg Pretty For Me (E, 5k)

“Cas…” His eyes flutter closed, mind slipping into the warm, pleasant haze of that special place, the one that allows him release, relief. Peace. Heart pounding in his chest, he fights the temptation to touch himself through the delicate material because Cas hasn’t told him to yet and he wants to be good.

“I want to hear you say it, Dean.”

“Fuck…” He swallows thickly. “Yeah. I- I feel beautiful.”

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Phone Sex, Light Dom/Sub, Dean Winchester Wears Panties, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Masturbation, Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester

castielslostwings - @castielslostwings - Castielslostwings

Loud (G, 4.3k)

Minutes, hours, days, years might have already passed—time is different here, and Castiel has no way of tracking it, and still the Shadow doesn’t come.

Castiel sits, he stands, he walks and walks and walks and walks. All he ever discovers is more darkness, more nothing.

Tags: 15.19 coda, alternate 15.20, canon fix-it, carry on fix-it, canon-compliant, love confessions, the empty, coda fic, the profound bond

Carry On (E, 8k)

“I think I’ll go for a drive.”

This is what happened between that moment, and Dean meeting Sam on that bridge.

(A 15x20 missing scene/fix-it fic).

Tags: 15x20 fix-it, Carry On coda, love confessions, castiel and dean are in love, first kiss, first time, reunions, Heaven improved, dean gets the funeral he deserves, missing scene

FriendofCarlotta - @friendofcarlotta - FriendofCarlotta

The Novel (E, 4.5k)

Dean, Cas, Sam and Eileen are happily retired and living their best lives. There's just one problem: Sam has decided to commemorate the Winchester brothers' adventures by writing a novel, and it's not very good at all.

AKA the episode coda where 15x20 was nothing more than Dean reading a draft of his brother's first novel and becoming increasingly appalled.

Tags: Coda, Episode Fix-It: s15e20 Carry On, Technically Canon-Compliant, First Kiss, Top Cas/Bottom Dean

universalsatan - @universalsatan - UniversalSatan

Mortal One, With The Sun in His Hands (E, 135k)

Cowhand Dean Winchester is notorious for risky gambles, rightfully proud of his horse Impala (who has the prettiest speckle in the West), and is stubbornly certain that his life is in apple-pie order. His comfortable existence crumbles apart when he's saved from a fire-and-brimstone death by a mysterious wanderer he discovers to be the infamous White Bandit, mythical Angel of the Desert. While his savior is as fearsome as the legends say, Dean can't help but draw closer to the quiet and endearing man the real Bandit turns out to be... even if he doesn't yet realize they're the same person. This time, Dean may have to reach out to the flame instead of recoil.

Tags: Western, Historical Fantasy, Slow Burn, Mutual Pining, Cowboys, Plot-Heavy, Hurt/Comfort, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings Graphic Depictions of Violence, Explicit Sexual Content (Censored Version Available). Accompanied by art by Artmetica.

Idjit_01 - Idjit_01

I’m not gonna say that I’d change it cause you and I know that we can’t (T, 1.3k)

After Lisa's goodbye speech to Dean in 6x14, Dean gets drunk and calls Cas.

Tags: Episode: s06e14 Mannequin 3: The Reckoning, Alcohol abuse/Alcoholism, Canon Divergence, Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt No comfort, yes both

game over (try again, please) (G, 887 words)

After Case and everyone else's departure in 15x18 Sam and Dean sit and talk. (And yes they discuss Cas's confession)

Tags: Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Suicidal Thoughts, Canonical Character Death, Good Sibling Sam Winchester

There’s blood on your face. (Beer and Nightmares) (G, 1.4k)

Dean wakes up pretty badly shaken from a nightmare. He struggles with it. He goes to the kitchen for a beer, but Cas and Sam are there. In the end, thanks to Cas's shenanigans, he doesn't even remember the nightmare.

Tags: Castiel/Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, Teasing, Touch-Starved Dean Winchester, BAMF Castiel (Supernatural), Sam Winchester Is So Done

Help(less) (T, 1.9k)

Everyone Chuck took away is back and are doing normal life again. As there are no monsters and everyone around him has someone else, Dean's on his own and feels awful. So he drives away and makes several questionable choices. Featuring: Dean, a missing angel, a moose, Baby and a frankly abused forest

Tags: Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester, Grief/Mourning, Vomiting, Eating Disorders, Suicidal Attempt, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death

Destielshipper4Cas - @destielshipper4cas - Destielshipper4Cas

The Alpha Next Door (E, 36k)

When Cas is placed in WitSec, he gets a fake secondary gender designation to go along with his new name, ‘Jimmy.’ All he has to do until the boss of the omega trafficking ring he escaped is behind bars is keep a low profile, always apply his alpha scent, and not fall in love with an alpha. Well—two out of three ain’t too bad…

Dean has never had a crush on an alpha before. Along comes his new neighbor, Jimmy, an alpha who is alphasexual. There’s just something about him, and to his utter confusion, he finds himself falling for an alpha for the first time in his life.

Tags: Past Rape/Non-con, Strangers to Lovers, Mutual Pining, Slow Burn, Hurt/Comfort, Omega Verse

purple_charlie - purple_charlie

Walk Through Fire for You (T, 2.3k)

Boyfriend.

The word still feels foreign in Dean’s mouth, still brings back echoes of John Winchester’s thinly-veiled (if even that) homophobia. "Man up, don’t be a sissy, I didn’t raise a fairy". It’s a swollen blister in the back of Dean’s mind, throbbing with pain whenever a stranger’s eyes linger too long on Cas’ hand in his, whenever a waitress double-takes at how close they sit in diner booths.

But here, dirty dancing with Cas in a warehouse full of other queer folks, Dean wants to shout from the rooftops- I’m Dean Winchester, I drive the baddest car in town, I lift heavy things for a living, and this is my boyfriend.

Tags: Homophobic parents, homophobic siblings, bisexual Dean, Gay Cas, Pride, marijuana use

Maleyah - @maleyah-givemetomorrow - Katherine_Kat

Art for In A State of Perpetual Disrepair (SFW)

Art for my fic, In A State of Perpetual Disrepair, a hurt/comfort A/B/O Destiel fic.

Tags: fanart, A/B/O, hurt/comfort, Alpha!Cas, Omega!Dean

Start of Time (G, 754 words)

Except he never expected to be awake for the aftermath.

You see, he can hear Dean's prayers.

Tags: Castiel POV, Despair, Hope, Coda 15x18, post episode 15x18, Fix-It, Fix-It of Sorts

We’re Not Gonna Take It (T, 1.4k)

Amara gestures at Dean calmly. “Have you been praying lately by any chance?”

Dean flusters and stammers, hands at his hips to give himself an attitude, while his eyes flick from her to Sam and Jack insecurely. “N… No.”

Tags: Coda 15x19, Post episode 15x19, Fix It, Dean's dirty prayers, Dean Prays to Castiel, Angel Wings, Wings, First Kiss

Drive (M, 1.5k)

Dean's prayers take a turn for the sensual, which drives The Empty to the brink.

Tags: Coda 15x18; post episode 15x18,, Dean Prays to Castiel, Dean's dirty prayers, Angel Wings, Wings, First Kiss, Fix-It, Slight Crack

Now That We’re Dead (M, 2.5k)

“You got everything you could ever want or need or dream. So I guess the question is… What’re you gonna do now, Dean?”

Looking around, he doesn’t know how to answer that question. The obvious is suggested when she turns out to have made it to Heaven too. Dust dances in the air around Baby, shining in the sunlight, tempting him to go for a ride. The endless stretched out road and horizon.

He blinks a few times, slow and owlish.

And right there, his shadow falling long and dark, almost touching Dean’s feet, is Cas.

OR: the one where Cas gets the love he deserves

Tags: 15x20 coda, Fix It, First Kiss, human!Cas, Heaven, Heaven happy ending, Canon divergent from the moment Bobby says "Cas helped", Fix-It

I Wanna Live, Not Just Survive (M, 3.9k)

“Dean Winchester,” Cas drawls. “I did not go to The Empty, so you could get yourself impaled.”

Or: the other one, where Cas and Dean get to be what they deserve.

Tags: coda 15x20, Fix-It, Human Castiel (Supernatural), Earth happy ending, Because let's not bury our gays, First Kiss, Cuddles, Hurt/Comfort

noeizumispn - @noeizumispn

Colors (SFW)

Art inspired by Misha's words on Cas' wings

Tags: Rainbow, colors, destiel, wings

kitmistry - @kitmistry - Kitmistry

Don’t You Cry No More (T, 4.8k)

There has to be something, he told himself the first night he pulled an all nighter, only to wake up with his cheek smashed against a book, dark circles under his eyes, a throbbing headache, and nowhere closer to the answer than when he started. The light was still on above his head. He didn’t bother turning it off.

Or the one where Dean doesn't die, but he searches for Cas instead.

Tags: Fix-It, Coda, Episode: s15e20 Carry On, Post-Canon, Angst with a Happy Ending

TheSongSmith - TheSongSmith

Four Seasons (G, 754 words)

Cas is the owner of Four Seasons Total Landscaping, and he received a very curious call on a quiet Saturday morning. Dean owns the adult shop next door, and is very confused by what's going on. Good times are had by all, except Donald Trump because fuck that morally-bankrupt tangerine.

Tags: Four Seasons Total Landscaping, Destiel is Canon, 2020 is a dumpster fire so have this fic, twitter made me do it

one_more_offbeat_anthem - one_more_offbeat_anthem

So Comes Snow After Fire (G, 11k)

Cas was old, like old-old, like ancient, like here for the beginning of the goddamn cosmos old, like remembers rain being invented old, and he could be anywhere, but instead he was in Dean’s kitchen (well, the bunker’s, but no one else cooked--Jack and Cas were kind of clueless when it came to that stuff, and all Sam made was health food), reading The Hobbit aloud to Dean while Dean himself made them all spaghetti.

(or, they got their win--the biggest win of all--and now autumn is settling in. a nearly-human Cas plants a garden, and Dean helps him along.)

Tags: Post-Canon/Canon-Divergent, Domesticity, Getting together, Fluff and comfort, Gardening Castiel

interstitial - interstitial

Thirst Was Made For Water (T, 5.9k)

Cas is hit by a truth spell. The results are unexpected.

And maybe just a tiny bit funny. Unless you're Dean.

Tags: Dubiously Consensual Courting Behavior, Mildly NSFW Art Included, Profanity, Crack & Fluff, Truth Spells, Animal Transformations, Canon Divergent After s7e17 The Born-Again Identity, Light-Hearted and (Relatively) Wholesome For These Trying Times

JudithAndronicus - @judithandronicus - judithandronicus

Up We Go (E, 4.9k)

A coda fic series for 15.18.

Tags: Grieving, Canonical MCD (temporary), Alcoholic Dean, Angst with a Happy Ending

The Kindness of Ravens (E, 7.5k)

Crackfic wherein ravens pooping on Dean lead to feelings realization and eventual smut.

Tags: Fluff, Crack, Feelings Realization, Diners

The Ampersand Chronicles (G, 1.3k)

This is unrepentant canon-adjacent Bunker fluff, set in a universe where everything is kind of the same, except fluffier. Cas lives in the Bunker with Sam and Dean; things like Gadreel and Lucifer aren't a problem; and oh yeah, there's a cat.

Tags: Fluff, Bunker Fic, Kittens

ArielAquarial - ArielAquarial

Boyfriend Blues (G, 1k)

“I have a boyfriend!”

It came out of nowhere. One second Dean was shoveling a truly amazing pork roast into his mouth, already planning the meat to mashed potato ratio of his next bite, when Claire opened her mouth and his fork was clattering to the plate. Cas stopped mid-bite to stare at her while Jack, completely oblivious, continued making a Jackson Pollock out of his potatoes and gravy.

Tags: Parenthood, Domestic Fluff, Married Life, Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Kid Claire Novak, Kid Jack Kline

Extra Credit (E, 4.2k)

“Hey, babe. Who has the kids?”

“Mr. Winchester…” Cas rumbled, leaning back in his chair and folding his arms across his chest. “You’re cutting it close. My office hours are almost over.”

Dean frowned at him, confused. That didn’t even remotely answer his question. What did he—

Oh…

Oh!

Or, the moment Dean has been waiting for has finally arrived.

Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Husbands, Professor Castiel (Supernatural), Mechanic Dean Winchester, Sexual Roleplay, Teacher/Student Roleplay, Anniversary

Never in a Million Years (G, 2.5k)

If someone had told Cas six years ago that he was going to be a happily married man with two kids, he would have laughed. Now, with Dean by his side, he couldn't imagine things being different, even if the path to get there had been a little rocky.

Tags: Domestic Fluff, Holiday Traditions, Alternate Universe, Established Relationship, Backstory, Bickering, Married Life

queer-things-do-happen-dean - @queer-things-do-happen-dean - Latter_alice

Tangerine, tangerine (E, 1k)

“So it’s – It’s really nothin’, huh?” Dean swallows and tries to blink away the wetness in his eyes. His gaze don’t weaver from the road. “No, uh, key words ring a bell? Chuck? Angel tablet?” He pauses, flicks his eyes over to Castiel and back. “... Leviathans?"

When Dean pulls Cas out of the Empty, not everything comes back.

Tags: Canon divergent, post series, memory loss

goldenraeofsun - @goldenraeofsun - goldenraeofsun

Symmetria (T, 4k)

When all’s said and done with Chuck, Dean takes his time getting used to his new gig as capital D Death. Billie, of course, did not see fit to leave him a training manual. But with his brother-turned-God on his side, and Jack as the new Darkness, they all muddle through.

Finally, all that's left is to rescue Cas from the Empty.

Tags: 15x18 fix-it, alternate post-series AU, Death!Dean, God!Sam, Darkness!Jack, love confessions, first kiss, minor Sam/Eileen

andimeantittosting - @andimeantittosting - andimeantittosting

We Are (M, 699)

15x18 coda. When they get Cas back, because they do, because somehow, someway, sometimes good things do happen, Dean...

Tags: Reunion, Resurrected Castiel, Requited Love, Happy Ending

Carrying On (G, 794 words)

15x20 coda. Dean dies and goes to heaven. But then he wakes up.

Tags: Fix-it Fic, Djinn, Happy Ending on Earth

Two Inches to the Left (T, 2.5k)

15x20 coda. Something tells Dean to stop by that bridge, so he does. The last thing he's expecting is for a pair of Vespas to pull up and Becky Rosen to tell him that he's still in Chuck's story. Finally, it's time to write his own.

Tags: Fix-it Fic, Temporary Character Death, Happy Ending on Earth, Fangirls Save the Day

starprincecas - @starprincecas - cuddlesandcas

so it goes (T, 1.4k)

The Empty comes to collect.

Tags: Major Character Death, Episode Tag: s15e18 Despair, Angst

no more waiting on tomorrow (T, 739 words)

For all that they’ve finally won once and for all, the victory feels hollow.

Tags: Episode Tag: s15e19 Inherit the Earth, Fix-It Fic

#dean winchester #castiel #destiel #deancas #spn #profound monthly masterpost #profoundnet #november masterpost #member fic #member art

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swiftlymoniquesblog · 4 years

Text

Old Man- Dean Winchester x Younger!Reader Holiday (Requested)

Request by Anon: Hey M! It’s been a while so I’m asking anonymously for some dean fluff. I usually request Sammy boy but I’m feeling dean today. I haven’t been on for a LOOOONG time. Can it be fall or Halloween?

A/N: Here’s some cute Dean for everyone! As we’re now less than two weeks away from Halloween; enjoy! I also picture the reader being at least 10 years younger than Dean, so brace yourselves ;)

Warnings: SMALL SEASON 15 SPOILER IN THE BEGINNING! fluff, pining, longing, minor angst, mention of The Notebook (its intense!)

Word Count: 2,400

Holiday Masterlist| Main Masterlist

-Monique xxx

Holidays with the Winchesters had normally ceased to exist, however, as they’ve grown older and their time felt more as it was coming to an end, they decided that maybe they were important. Dean wasn’t one for all the decorations and any of the usual outings of the seasons but he decided to make more of an effort; it was his idea.

“Sammy, I think we need to start paying attention to stuff around us,” he said one day, walking into the kitchen, in his robe, having just woken up not long before.

“What do you mean, Dean?” Sam asked, eyebrows raising in questioning his older brother.

“I mean since we killed God and Amara, I think it’s time we slow things down a bit. Enjoy the holidays; Halloween is in two weeks you know,” Dean explained.

“Is it? Didn’t notice,” Sam said, not giving his least favorite holiday much attention.

“Yeah it is, and I think we should celebrate,” Dean adds.

“Why? You hate decorations and I hate Halloween period,” Sam sasses back.

“But we have Jack now and y/n just moved in not long ago, we can do it for them,” Dean said, not giving it much thought.

“Because you love her,” Sam picks on his older brother.

“I don’t love her,” Dean snaps. “I just want her to feel comfortable here,”

“Because you love her,” Sam says again, doing what he can to egg Dean on.

“Sammy would you stop saying that? I don’t love her!” Dean yells, eyes widening as you enter the room.

“Who don’t you love?” You say to Dean, who fell silent.

“Taylor Swift,” Sam pipes in on behalf of Dean. “Dean doesn’t love Taylor but does enjoy her music on occasion.”

“Um, wait, no! That’s not true either!” Dean adds, growing angrier than he was prior.

You just laugh at the frustrated eldest Winchester, who was now pouting like a child.

“Whatever you say, old man,” you tease him and leave the room.

“God that girl is going to be the death of me,” says Dean, shaking whatever inappropriate thoughts he was currently having about you.

Not that he would ever admit it, but Dean was helplessly in love with you. He had been since the day you two met. It wasn’t a normal place for Dean to spend his time, a small coffee shop downtown, but he decided to change up his game. He was tired of the same old girls he would pick up in a bar. Well, he wasn’t really tired of them, but he did want to experience a different kind of girl and that’s what you were. You sat with a cup of coffee and a slice of pie on the table in front of you, nose buried in a book with plenty of others around you. He couldn’t help but immediately be drawn to you, as you nibbled on a piece of the pie, cherry he had noted, on the fork from the plate. You seemed to be so enthralled with the book, that you didn’t even see him staring at you at first, but when your eyes lifted from the pages in front of you, and over to the coffee first, then to him, he felt as though you were the only one in that little coffee shop and that he would spend the rest of his life, getting to know what makes you happy. In his lifetime, he’s never been shy or scared of women, seeing them as an “easy” target of sorts, but you were a completely different ball game. He felt his hands get all sweaty, his throat closing up as he fought to breathe, and his heart was beating faster than he ever felt it before.

Is this how Sam feels? He thought of his younger brother, who used to be timid when it came to women but he had quite a few notches on his bedpost too, except he valued them more now. Just as a small glimmer of confidence grew in his heart, he took that opportunity to talk to you. The intensity of the moment building in his chest, his throat suddenly growing dry, it was now or never.

“Hi,” he said and the rest became your history.

“Y/N, hey, so Sam and I were talking, and since this is your second holiday season with us, we thought we’d celebrate this year,” Dean said, joining you at the map table in the War Room. Once again, you were nose deep in a book, trying to find a case for the brothers.

“Wait, really? No holiday hunts?” That had become a running joke in the Bunker with all the hunters; hunting on the holidays had its own name.

“Not this year. We have Jack this time and he’s never experienced any of the holidays and since you love them so much, I thought you’d like to do it up this year,” Dean gave his permission, but you had a hard time believing it.

“Seriously? Dean Winchester, one of the greatest hunters in the world, is going to let his annoying friend decorate the place he lives just because?” You ask, wondering if there was any other reason for his sudden change of heart. Of course, Dean wouldn’t allow his real feelings to surface, for he couldn’t lose you, so he pushed that feeling the furthest from his mind, like he did with most of his feelings, and made up an excuse.

“I’m just trying to be nice is all. Take it or leave it, kid,” he says, adding an extra flare of attitude.

“I’ll take it!” You say, jumping up to hug him, and causing Dean to feel uneasy once more. It took everything in him not to kiss you as you separated from the hug.

“Okay then, get to it,” he says, playfully smacking your ass. You squeal, surprised by his action, but with the goofy grin he gave you, you just smiled. That was the kind of friendship you had with him. You could joke and flirt with each other but it never meant anything. You had hoped it would one day. At first, you didn’t like Dean, soon finding out about his history with women, as you became friends with him. You wouldn’t allow him to joke with you the way you two do now, but he changed your mind. When you first saw the way he was with Jack, you began seeing him differently. He acted more like a father figure than you thought was possible for someone like him, but what really did it, was the first time you were severely injured. Every hour of the day, he’d come in your room to check on you, and sometimes, he wouldn’t leave your side. He was worried, scared that you wouldn’t make it, as he held your body close to him walking in the hospital when it happened. But your injuries weren’t more than several stitches, and a cast couldn’t fix up along with plenty of rest. Dean made it his mission to take your mind off your pain, so movies and binge-worthy television shows distracted you. That and Dean’s constant pestering of how you were feeling. When he’d lay next to you, absentmindedly wrapping an arm around you or playing with your hair, you slowly began to feel more than just friendly feelings for him.

Recruiting the newest member of the Winchester family, you and Jack got to work with your decorating. Even Dean pitched in with some of the decorations, and yet, still complained the whole time.

“You know if you’re going to be such an old man and complain the whole time, you could find something else to do,” you suggest to Dean.

“I’m not old,” he argues back but silently feeling his heartbreak that you considered him old. There were at least ten years between you and him, but he didn’t care; he still loved you.

“That’s what an old man would say,” Jack joined in on your teasing, poking fun at the eldest resident of the Men of Letters Bunker.

“You know what, you kids better just leave me alone, alright?” And with that, he left the room.

“What’s his problem?” Jack asked but you knew Dean too well to know he wasn’t okay.

“I’ll be right back, I think I forgot some lights somewhere,” you lied quickly and rushed after Dean.

“Dean!” You yell, as you see him a few yards in front of you, storming down the street.

“Go away, y/n,” he commanded, keeping his back to you.

“Dean, come on, I’m sorry,” you say, trying to pick up your pace, but he was still faster than you. It was starting to get darker and colder, as storm clouds began to roll in above you. Yellow and orange leaves crunching under your feet as you followed him, wherever he was headed until he grew tired of hearing your footsteps behind him.

He suddenly spun around to look at you and spoke harshly. “Go home, y/n, and leave me alone.”

You knew he was really hurt, more than just the nickname you teased him with. Something more was bothering him; you felt it.

“Okay, something more than just the ‘old man’ thing is bothering you. What’s wrong?” You provoke, only adding to his anger.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he says harshly, turning away from you again.

“Hey, you don’t get to do that! We have a deal, tell the other what’s bothering us; always,” you reminded him of the agreement he came up with. It came from when you grew sad because of your injuries. You hadn’t been able to leave your bed for a month, as your foot and ankle healed. You twisted your ankle and had broken two bones in your foot, enabling you to do much of anything.

“No,” he said, walking away from you again, but you reached him and grabbed his arm, turning him to look at you.

“Yes, Dean. You don’t get to shut me out just because I teased you about your age,” you say, anger rising in you.

“You think that’s what this is all about? Of course, you do because your so naïve to really see what’s going on here,” his words stung, but he wasn’t getting away that easily.

“Then tell me, Dean, what’s really going on here?” You fight back, not losing your stance now. It had begun to rain, no pour, at this point, but neither one of you seemed to really care.

“Oh sure, you think it’s easy for me to tell you that I love you? That I’ve been so desperately in love with you since I met you in that stupid coffee shop a year ago, that for the first time in my life, I was scared to go talk to a woman? You know, my life was just fine until you came into it, and honestly, you are too freaking adorable in your own way, that I can’t stand it! I was fine with just hooking up with random chicks from the bar but you make me want that apple pie, chick-flick moment lifestyle! I want to marry you, to be the father of your children, and these thoughts haunt me every damn time I look at you! So yeah, a lot is going on here y/n, but I know this isn’t your problem, it’s mine and I’ll handle it.”

Dean had yelled everything he just told you, but you weren’t scared. No, he simply surprised you by his confession of his feelings for you. Never, would you peg him for a guy who wanted all those things he mentioned but he did just admit all of it to you.

“Please, say something,” he said, the heaving in his chest slowing down, as his shirt stuck to his body from the rain. His muscles that chiseled out his abs you didn’t notice before just now, were very clear to you, under the white shirt that was covered by a plaid one.

“I love you, for fuck’s sake you idiot, I love you,” You say, right before he took three long strides, and grabbed your face with both his hands. Lips meeting yours in a kiss you both had imagined in such a long time, the pining and the angst finally coming to an end. The kiss was much like the one in the rain in the Notebook; the most famous scene from the movie. You had jumped on him, wrapping your legs around his waist, as his arms fell to your butt, keeping you close to him, as his lips wrestled yours for dominance. Obviously, you were no match to Dean, he was stronger in every way, so you let him take the lead. Now, the rain was the least of your concerns, as he held you tighter and closer to him. When your head began to throb from lack of oxygen, you pulled away from him.

“Took you long enough, old man,” you whispered just for him to hear.

“You know, that’s kind of a turn on when you call me that,” he said, smirking at you, before pecking your lips and letting you down.

“Hmm, good to know,” you winked as your hand trailed over his ass, giving it a small squeeze, as you two walked back to the Bunker.

“Hey, there you guys are. We just finished; what do you think?!” Jack exclaimed happily at the work he had done. You felt bad that he finished the decorating alone but he had done a really good job.

“It looks great, Jack! You’ve captured the Halloween spirit,” you hugged the young Nephilim, cautious of the jealous look Dean was giving you.

“Thank you,” he grinned.

“So, I see you two finally admitted those feelings,” Sam said, coming to stand in the middle of you and Dean.

“Yeah and if you come in between us again, I’ll shave your head,” Dean threatened his brother, as his hands went up in defeat.

“Hey babe, can we watch cute Halloween movies?” You ask, looking up at Dean.

“As long as I get to cuddle with you and interrupt with kisses, we can watch whatever you want,” he winked at you, causing your cheeks to heat up.

“I think that can be arranged,” you say, kissing his lips once more.

Tag List: @tloveswriting @fandom-princess-forevermore @akshi8278 @thinkinghardhardlythinking @deansmyapplepie @spnjediavenger @angeredcrow @to-my-beloved-fandoms-2 @lilulo-12 @thwiso

#dean winchester #dean girls #dean #dean x reader #dean x you #dean x y/n #old man #halloween #halloween mood #halloween movie #pumpkins #fall #fall vibes #dean fluff #dean angst

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herstarburststories · 4 years

Text

Brutal (Dean Winchester x Reader)

✾ A/N: More Dean x reader content, but angst this time! Reposting because I had to edit a few things. Gif's credits on it. Based on the song ‘from the dining table’.

✾ Summary: Unlike her boyfriend, Dean Winchester, the reader wasn’t raised as a hunter. At first, it seems like a hard but worth it job. Unfortunately, you didn't have in mind how brutal all of it could get.

✾ Words: 3k.

"YOU ARE NOT YOURSELF ANYMORE, DEAN!"

The discussion over a delicate subject at the dining table was blossoming into something bigger. (Y/N) was on her feet, shouting at her boyfriend with a shaking voice; a manner that was very uncommon. You were used to Dean being stubborn, and you were not behind him in this aspect which caused a few disagreements here and there. That certain argument, though, was definitive in every meaning of the word.

"I HAVE ALWAYS MADE IT FUCKING CLEAR WHAT THIS LIFE WAS, (Y/N)!" Dean snapped back, anger dripping from his words like venom. He was hurt. How could you say that he was becoming a cold-hearted person? You, of all people. "IF I DON'T KILL IT, IT KILLS ME! THIS ISN'T AN APPLE PIE LIFE, AND YOU KNEW IT WHEN YOU DECIDED TO STAY HERE!"

"I'M NOT TALKING ABOUT VAMPIRES OR POLTERGEISTS OR WENDIGOS, DEAN! FUCK!" Your usual efficiency with words was starting to tangle with desperation. Dean didn't even see the problem, for God's shake. How could you keep this up? "I'M TALKING ABOUT THE PEOPLE! I SAW YOU KILL FIVE POSSESSED PEOPLE TODAY!"

"DEMONS!" He groaned and slapped the table. You jumped in surprise, making him regret getting out of control and coaxing a softer, calmer tone from his mouth. "I killed demons, not people."

"The demons were possessing them, and you killed them off without any regret. You didn't even take a minute to consider other options."

"What other options?" he questioned, obviously upset. What the hell were you doing? Becoming the devil's advocate all of sudden?

"Using the demon-killing knife to stab a non-vital part of their bodies? Maybe an exorcism?"

"None of those options would end the problem permanently. Do you have any idea how many sons of a bitch came back from hell to get Sam and me? It's them or us, (Y/N). And I will always choose us." Dean was aware that you weren't raised in this life like him and Sam, but this conversation was becoming frustrating and confusing. You were training to be like them. You went to hunts with them. You... You supported him. At least, you did last time he checked. "The human is long gone when they get possessed. Dying is the best thing that could happen to them after that."

You were supposed to be an easy case that turned out to be more complicated than previously expected, what meant both of them staying a little longer in the city, you catching feelings for Dean and vice-versa. After all you had seen, you knew that normal life was a long lost memory that you didn't wish to visit, leave alone live in. Hauntings, traveling across the country, having no banal responsibilities-- that seemed like the kind of dangerous fun you had been looking for your whole life. Then, you came with them. Killing things had never bothered you-- they weren't actually alive, for starts. Until you saw how cold Dean looked when he killed off possessed people-- the humans that were still in there somehow. And he kept doing it as if it were the only option. Of course, this job and violence walked side by side, but not unnecessary lethal choices. Dean certainly shared his portion of brutality, which wasn't tiny, but you would never picture your boyfriend as uncaring. Not until you watched five bodies piled up together, burning. What about the chance that those people should have gotten?

"Are you even listening to yourself, Dean? What if Sam had thought like that when you became a demon!?" Apprehensive, you tried to make him understand what was wrong.

Dean clenched his jaw before his answer came out, "Those are two different things, (Y/N). You know that."

"I..." You flinched, taking a deep breath and letting it out. You shut your eyes before opening them with a determinate glare, locking your gaze with his green one. "I can't. I said I would stand by you through anything, but I can't let this slide. Not like this."

"Because I killed a few demons?" The older Winchester grinned wryly. He was furious, scared by the possibility of you leaving him, and injured by your words. What else could a wounded animal do besides attacking? "I survived, (Y/N). I've killed many others, and I'm not fucking sorry for it. They had it coming. You knew that was my life, and you chose it. What are you going to do now? Play the coward? It's a dirty, fucked up job, but someone has to do it, and you knew that."

Offering a sad smile, you walked towards him and lifted your hand to claim his cheek only for him to pull away from you. Your heart ached, but you needed to do that. Stick to your morals and beliefs.

"I love you." And you did, you truly did. Unfortunately, blood was as normal as water in his mouth, and you couldn't help but remain nauseous after what you tasted. "But there is a better way. Maybe not perfect, but another decision. And if you can't see that, if you can't see why I find it wrong to just rush around with the knife in every situation--" Your voice almost broke. "Goodbye, Dean."

You turned around, passing away from the man you loved before another speech stopped you.

"I bet you regret leaving your home to run away with me now."

You didn't take two seconds to reply, and you desired that he could understand how hard it was for you too. "I would never regret you."

No ray of sunshine licked Dean's face to wake him up. Fortunately for the Winchesters' disorganized sleeping routine, the bunker prevented the sun from invading the window-- a perk of living almost under the land in a bunker.

Instead of a normal reason to emerge from his rest, Dean's eyes fluttered open from an annoying migraine. Perhaps he went a little too hard on the alcohol yesterday, but that was the last thing that mattered. Besides, even if it was an abnormal sensation, he wouldn't trade it for sake of 'drinking like a normal human being', as (Y/N) had teased him so many times before.

(Y/N).

It took two seconds after recovering consciousness to think about you.

“Where are you?” he said in a whisper, playing with himself to the silent walls. Dean laughed with his own brand of self-deprecation-- a learned cruelty to dilute the tug of his emotions before the eldest Winchester had to get up. He knew exactly where you resided and why you were there. He decided against feeding his masochism for once, not glancing at your side of the bed.

To face the light fixtures above him only made his current situation more depressing, just like the hints of paint that (Y/N) had once thrown there. Dean Winchester knew pain like no other; hell, purgatory, an emptied childhood, watching his mother seal a deal with a demon, living with the fact his father had gone to hell to save him, being right in front of Sammy when he died, all the bloody deaths he’d lived through again and again-- the list would go on. He could probably drown in an ocean of his deceased loved ones’ blood and swim there for hours until he reached its edge.

Most of the time, the life of a hunter was synonymous with tragedy.

Therefore, Dean was very experienced when it came to suffering. He even shared a last name with a rifle, for God’s sake. Destruction was stained in his bones. This time, it was a different kind of torment.

His heart had been broken before, sure. He wasn’t in his early twenties, neither was he a saint. Dean was aware that a break in relationships could be devastating.

But again, this time, it was different. (Y/N) had not only broke his heart. You ripped it out and threw it in the trash as you walked out the door without looking back. His trust was in your pockets, and the beliefs clinging to the divine sensation of your touch that left with you.

Dean Winchester was hopeless. Deciding not to mourn for a bit, he closed his eyes from the melancholy. It wasn't a hard job to fall asleep once more. People in his job were always heavy-eyed.

Forty minutes passed by the clock until the Winchester roused again. This moment felt missing without you snuggling up to him or kissing his neck between foolish giggles or even pushing him out of bed when you felt like playing the prankster.

There was no valid reason to remain where he was, glaring at a stupid ceiling that held nothing but an old light you installed together and memories. The yellow and blue paints still held firm where you’d spattered them, jumping in the bed together with your hands drenched in the colors from a gouache paint container just because you’d found the tins somewhere in the bunker. You and Dean became a tangled mess of greens, dirty with paint and kissing. How many sexual encounters happened here, he thought, glaring at this ceiling that looked like three-year-old Sammy’s art project.

The green-eyed man never thought he would feel nostalgic about a stupid ceiling. He had to get out of that room.

Finally raising from the mattress, Dean yawned as he padded towards the kitchen. He didn't mind checking what time it was, knowing he needed an alcoholic getaway. The Winchester sat down, sharing a bottle of Whiskey with his shadow. How distracting it was to make his throat burn when an unpleasant thought attempted to take control of his head.

If he had dared to look through the room, Dean would have noticed the clock's arrow pointing at 10:50 am.

By noon he was already drunk, which took a lot of effort since his tolerance to drinks was a bar high set. Dean groaned, displeased. The buzzy feeling of befuddlement hitting him certainly helped, but he could still affirm that he had never felt less cool. His body was starving for something that wasn't there anymore. Dean's feelings were all over the place, and he didn't have the energy to pick them up at this point.

"I can't believe you are drinking already." Sam sighed, making himself known by Dean in the kitchen. In response, all he got was his brother holding the glass up and drinking all of its bronze liquid. "It's barely noon, Dean. You-- Wait. Are you drunk?"

"Don't start, Sam." He groaned, holding his own cheeks with fingers as his hands slid down to his chin. The gesture was a habit of Dean's when he was fed up with something.

The younger one offered him an indignant glare, which was soon replaced by empathy and sorrow as he watched Dean. His brother was broken. (Y/N) running away from them had really taken him down. Part of Sam was hurt as well-- after all, you were his friend and confidant. But, in all ruthless honesty, he couldn't speak out and point fingers at you on that. Not about the whole situation, at all.

Yet, if Sam was feeling abandoned by his friend, he could only imagine what Dean would be experiencing. You had been a hint of happiness in the middle of misery and combat for Dean. It had been so long since Sammy saw his brother like that, so very long. Suddenly, it disappeared like smoke. And the worst part was that he understood your side. Deep down, the long-haired man knew Dean did, too.

Trying to knock sense back into his brother, or at least a bit of normality, Sam spoke, "You can go out and buy some whiskey. Your bottle was the last one."

"Yeah, right." His voice was impassive, almost serious for such casual conversation. He got up, going to the table to grab Baby's keys.

"Hey, Dean..." Dean turned around to face his brother. Sam’s expression was cautious, voice soft when he continued: "If you want to talk about it, I'm here. It could help."

"I'm pretty sure you heard the screaming yesterday, Sam," Dean replied dryly, an unsettlingly wry smile surfacing. His walls were up. It was an old defense mechanism. "There is nothing to talk about. She left. The sooner we can accept it, the sooner we can move on."

"Move on? You want to move on?" he questioned suspiciously, eyebrows arching to match his inquiry.

Dean didn't answer. He only picked up the keys.

"Dean--"

"Yeah, I think we are out of eggs, too," Dean interrupted. He didn't need to talk about it. Not now. "Whiskey and eggs, got it."

Any other remarks from Sam were ignored as he walked through the door, trotting in direction of his beloved Impala. An old song on one of his cassettes was the soundtrack to his five-minute ride to the nearest store.

Dean went searching for eggs and whiskey, adding a lemon pie that smelled better than himself-- not that it was difficult considering he hadn’t showered since yesterday. The store’s cashier swiped his credit card and offered a polite farewell that was replied with a nod. Everything seemed so normal in the most boring ways.

In the parking lot, a familiar face appeared for the first time in a year. It was Thomas-- a hunter that Dean, you, and Sam had come across during a job in New Mexico.

"Winchester!" The blue-eyed man smiled, making the scar near his lips more evident. Being thrown out of a window left marks sometimes. "It's been too long, dude."

"Cavill." His lips curved into a small smile as he greeted his friend. Laying his green eyes on him, Dean couldn't avoid noticing a familiar shirt. Fuck, he must be hallucinating or thinking too hard about foolish subjects. "Where have you been?"

"Burning bones, decapitating vamps. Same old, same old." Thomas waved his hand, banalizing the supernatural routine as if it were nothing but another Sunday. For them, this was true. "I saw (Y/N) yesterday. She seemed fine. Separate hunts to take different cases?"

His blood burned through an emotional fever in realization. It felt like the boil was intense enough to melt his bones if he remained in front of the other men for too long. Thomas had never been subtle about finding you attractive, and neither was his constant flirting when your cases collided. It didn't help that you and Dean weren't together back then, even though the tension was obvious for anyone. The Winchester gripped his grocery plastic bag harder, offering him a sarcastic smirk.

"Something like that." He reached the car door and pulled out his keys. The familiar red flannel, your meeting with him-- it was so obvious it was basically written all over his face, and sadly, Dean could read it well. Fuck, he wanted to drop his purchases and punch that smile off Thomas’ face. That man probably had more of what was once his. “Gotta go. See you around.”

Sliding in the car to leave this conversation before his treacherous mind could reach more detestable conclusions, Cavill answered, "If you need help, give me a call.''

Dean mumbled something but didn't care enough to give him anything beyond a nod while the Impala finally drove away from Thomas.

At that moment, he wished a bit harder that Ellen was still alive or that another bar like hers existed. The hunters’ bar was full of people who understood that death was a part of the job. Somewhere he could swallow barrels of alcohol, play darts and tell bloody stories about his world-- about the quintessential things he did to get despair out of his system to the point that he felt comfortable on his own skin again.

So, that was it? You didn't just leave him and Sam, but you also accused him with all certainty you had of being a cold killer, and then you slept with the first man who showed up? Who was also a fucking hunter? Why the fuck didn't you tell him how you felt sooner? He wasn't an angel-- he would be even more of an arrogant asshole than he already was if that was the case, but you knew it all along. He didn't deserve anything good in his life. He should've seen it coming.

Dean pursed his lips, deciding for another ride to a normal bar. Home and all the beautiful, tragic ghosts inside could haunt him later.

It didn't take him long to park near an establishment. For once, he noticed the strong grip he held on the steering wheel, knuckles strained whiter than usual. He let out a tired sigh, glaring at the entrance of the place before grabbing his phone.

No calls from you. No text messages from you. Just the feeling of being a thirteen-year-old boy again, just like when he was waiting for Mary to send him a sign that she was all right.

Shaking his head in disbelief, Dean put it back in his pocket and made his way to the bar. No 'welcome' board light was shining yet, and he doubts anyone but he and the owner would be there. Once he got in, two guys were sitting in a table far away, and a girl was entering the bathroom. The bartender stood behind the bar, watching some game on the small television the place provided.

"Whiskey. No ice." His words came out harsher than he expected. The guy didn't seem to notice or care, simply nodding his head and turning around go get his client's order. One more time, Dean took his phone and stared at it. There was nothing but a text from Sammy that he quickly replied to, frowning in disappointment. It was rare for you to be the first one to break after a fight, but that was more than a stupid argument. You had left. You had fucking left. And he was the only one to blame.

Such a miserable routine kept its course. Dean would drink, check his phone, and hurt himself with his own thoughts. The night came with lurking shadows, and he couldn't care less. It seemed like the ghosts had replaced the bunker for his company. He didn't want to believe you would come back because hoping and being destroyed again was too much to bear with right now. Dean couldn't even breathe properly at the thought that he would never, ever see touch you, tease you, or be with you again. You had him wrapped around your finger since the very first day until you cut your hand off and left him. You left. How could you have left? But then, how could you had stayed if you had it all in your mind before?

Someone sat beside him. Still, it didn't catch the Winchester's attention until he heard her voice. For a flash of a second, he thought it was you. Dean looked up instantly, only to find himself incredulous.

The woman in front of him looked so much like you. She could easily be mistaken for your sister. Hair, eyes, voice. Everything but the lips were so similar. The unknown girl kept her gaze on Dean despite his strange reaction to her. Repeating her former words, she asked, "What are you drinking? Seems good."

Yeah, she wasn't (Y/N). You could tell what he was drinking from miles away, just because you knew exactly what he enjoyed. In addition, you’d seen his preferences so much that you’d memorized it all without even trying.

She looked like you, though. A lot. The earlier jealousy mixed with a dangerous quantity of alcohol and anguish made his decision. Move on, just like he told Sam. You didn't call him. You weren't coming back. That was your choice. He had to shut up the little hopes in his mind.

Putting up his best sultry smirk, Dean pushed the glass on the table towards her as he answered: "You tell me."

Two hours later, he was tilting his head to the side, watching the woman in his sheets peacefully taking a nap after a long run. Her hand covered most of her face, pillow carpeted with her messy hair.

"Wake up, (Y--)" Dean restrained himself from finishing that sentence. He almost said your name. It was hard enough to keep the woman's name, which he had forgotten by now, on his tongue during sex-- he wasn't going to give in at the end of it. Clearing his throat, the hunter started waking her up again. He needed to go.

In any other point of his life, he would've considered that night a success. A hot girl was sleeping beside him after he had a great amount of old whiskey. Sammy sent a text about a new case, and he had pie waiting for him in the car. At any other moment, that would be enough to put him in a good mood all day. In any other age, that would be considered a good day. No one died, he had sex and food and was about to hunt a thing and blow whatever it was up.

But you hadn't called.

It was probably a good thing in a messed up way. It was tranquil. There was no arguing, no fighting, no hurting from either side. That kind of hurt was quite similar to being comfortable, in a tremendously distorted way that he didn't wish to feel, like not putting medicine on the wound and just allowing it to heal by itself-- yet, occasionally scratching it. The idea of a comfortable silence was so overrated. Dean would rather be screamed at by (Y/N) by now than whatever this option was.

The woman woke up and left a note with her phone as she abandoned the room. Crumbling the paper, he threw it away and touched his face. A deep breath was taken.

He had work to do.

Maybe one day you'll call me

and tell me that you’re sorry too

But you never do

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naitiaclo960writings · 3 years

Text

Day 17 - Autumn Invading

When Sam and Dean officially moved into the bunker, it was in the early fall. Even in Kansas, the wind was cold and biting at that time of year and, although he would never admit it even on his deathbed, Dean had always been of a chilly nature. In the innumerable motels they had traveled throughout their lives, Dean systematically arranged to keep several layers of clothing on him or to ask for extra blankets at the reception. When they had established their base at the bunker and each had inherited a room, it was not long for Dean before finding slippers, a warm bathrobe and the thickest blankets of their fortress.

Sam had noticed his little game a long time ago already, but never said anything. Despite his tough guy looks that Dean wanted to give himself for a reason that escaped him, Sam knew that his brother had a weakness, especially for the rare days when their daily life turned out to be calm and domestic. While he was ruthless with the monsters who gave them a hard time, Dean was also the most inclined to make hot chocolates in front of a wood fire while watching a nice movie. Sam called it his "cocooning period" and Dean, who thought it sounded too much like "a chick word”, just said he liked the simple things of life.

However, although he had so far moderated those moments of lounging to prevent Sam from laughing at him anymore, Dean had always dreamed of being able to spend whole days literally doing nothing. Don’t get him wrong, he was a man of action and he needed his quota of monsters and adventure within a week. Nevertheless, he certainly wouldn’t say no to weekends holed up in the bunker to worry about nothing but eating and sleeping from time to time.

Fortunately for him, the opportunity had almost presented itself when Castiel came to live with them. Definitely, of course.

Currently, Dean was buried under several fluffy blankets in his memory foam bed. He stretched out slowly, feeling each of his muscles deliciously distends before falling back against his pillows in the most satisfied sigh. Despite his blanket fortress and the heating on in his room, Dean was practically naked in his bed, wearing only a large pair of boxers with pizza patterns that he only wore when he wanted to relax. The underwear was so loose that he hardly felt it around his waist. On the other hand, feeling the cotton of the blankets on his freshly washed skin had the talent of putting him in a good mood.

His feet—which had kept cooling on contact with the bunker tiles despite his wool slippers—were now pleasantly warm at the end of the bed, sending delightful waves of tingling in his legs. He felt like he was floating in a cloud of comfort and, for God’s sake, he would like to feel that way for the rest of his life. Dean barely wanted to get up to get food or go to the bathroom. If he had to die here, then so be it. He told himself that he would pass away happily, with a little soft smile. Dean retreated to his comfort nest, his hair pointing in all directions as he tightened his favorite blanket around his shoulders.

The arm that did not hold the blanket, for its part, went on a wander in search of a very different source of heat. When his fingers finally came into contact with warm and familiar skin in front of him, he smiled a little more. Castiel was sitting next to him, leaning on a pile of pillows against the headboard and staring at the computer between them. He was not much more dressed than Dean, but unlike his companion, he did not feel the need to cover up. Angels were not affected by temperature like humans. Also, Castiel was always temperate and, when Dean felt too chilly, he would snuggle to him in search of a human — or almost — radiator. Although, of course, Dean did not always wait to be cold to cuddle with Castiel.

Castiel smiled while feeling Dean’s hand gently caressing his bare and finely muscled belly, his blue eyes leaving the screen to come and rest on Dean’s loving face. He loved to see this expression so open and relaxed on his partner’s face and made it a point to make it appear as often as possible. Since the beginning of fall, he and Dean had multiplied the afternoons in bed to laze undisturbed in the warmth of their room. It was needless to say that Castiel had never experienced such a situation, it seemed to him to be a purely human activity to which he would have lent no use not so long before. But now that he shared his daily life and more with Dean, he had quickly learned to cherish those kinds of shared moments together. It was beyond words. Dean called it "having a good run together" and Castiel loved the sound of that sentence, because he already knew that he wanted to explore every possible and imaginable existence with Dean until the end of his very long life. It would probably be a bit silly if he confessed it aloud to his companion, but he would not hesitate to let Dean know it just to see him blush and mumble two or three swear words under his breath before kissing him gently on the lips.

Castiel cut his thoughts short to get progressively closer to Dean, sinking into the blankets too. He turned on the mattress to face him, placing a warm hand on one of his cheeks and feeling Dean’s zygomatic tends more into a soft smile.

"Are you cold?" Castiel inquired, raising a curious eyebrow while the computer played a series, forgotten between them.

Dean shrugged but nevertheless got closer, planting a wet kiss on Castiel’s nose. They were now so close to each other that they shared the same air.

"That’s alright. Unless you want to give me a little sport to warm me up…" Dean teased while continuing to touch the Angel’s abs, a playful smile on his face.

Castiel hummed gently to the attention before extending an arm towards Dean. He embraced him slowly before drawing Dean to him and share another kiss, deeper this time. Dean let out an amused exclamation in the embrace and then retreated after a while. He smiled.

"Besides, I thought you really wanted to know the end of Breaking Bad before deigning to touch me." He joked before he kissed Castiel again, gently.

Castiel raised an arrogant eyebrow and this time it was his turn to break the contact.

"Maybe my human’s needs come first this time. Well, so I believe." Castiel replied in a teasing tone, easily entering Dean’s game now that he had learned the subtlety of sarcasm and seduction.

Dean shook his head and smiled. He knew that such a dynamic between them would never have been possible before, even in his wildest dreams. Dean had resigned to his unspoken feelings by persuading himself for years that he and Castiel were a relationship doomed to failure and suffering. That they were too different and that their lives would never allow them any semblance of normalcy or comfort. That he shouldn’t be distracted when he was trying to save the world or taking care of his little brother. That it just wouldn’t work, because it wasn’t reciprocal and he’d make a fool of himself, he’d lose his best friend, he’d still hurt someone he cared about.

He had been happy to have decided not to listen to this voice the day he opened himself up to Castiel. Although this was greatly encouraged by alcohol, it was all but unimportant.

"Oh, I see. Well, the human is infinitely grateful to you for honoring him with your luminous presence." Dean answered with exaggeration, rolling his eyes and pretending to be annoyed.

"You don’t complain about it, though." Castiel remarked.

Castiel tried to kiss him again after that, but Dean backed away and gave him a finger. Castiel grumbled and pushed him a little further while Dean laughed softly, not even offended when the blanket slipped from his shoulders. He loved the simplicity that animated their relationship, the fact that he could act freely without worrying about the reaction of the other. Castiel knew him so well now and it had taken more than a few months for Dean to accept the fact that his best friend loved him for what he was and not for what he was supposed to be every day. It was refreshing and oh so restful for Dean. In all these previous serious relationships, although they were not numerous, he had had to keep a part of mystery or even a lie that had systematically left a bitter taste in his mouth. With Castiel, the major difference was that he knew immediately what he was signing up for and accepted it as is.

Still smiling, Dean straightened up to grab the cup of hot chocolate he had left to cool down until then. He took the drink with a comfortable sigh and wrapped his fingers around the still warm ceramic. A marshmallow floated lazily in the center of the chocolate and Dean melted a little more in the mattress when the liquid touched his lips. He knew that in normal times and with anyone else at his side, he would disown hot chocolate for something stronger. Probably coffee, or whiskey. Or both at the same time. But now, he was too deeply immersed in his trance of total relaxation to care about it and this chocolate was the most delicious there was right now. He let the sweet taste come and tease his taste buds before swallowing it with delight, feeling the still burning liquid slipping down his throat.

When Dean opened his eyes that he did not remember closing, he watched his computer continue broadcasting Breaking Bad in front of them. They remained in silence for many minutes, Dean finishing his cup of chocolate while Castiel played distractingly with the fingers of Dean’s unoccupied hand. When his cup was empty and he felt warmed from the inside, Dean rested his mug on his nightstand and stretched out like a cat again. He was pretty sure that Castiel paid as much attention as he did to their series—that is to say, very little—so he was not surprised when his companion straightened up to hug him on his side and bury his nose in his neck. Dean smiles as he feels Castiel’s warm breath in the hollow of his skin.

"If you keep going, we both know perfectly well that we will never finish the episode…" Dean growled gently while leaning into the embrace.

Time seemed suspended between them in this bubble of happiness that constituted their room, slowed down. Dean sighed quietly, softly sliding towards that version of him that only very few people on this Earth had the right to see. The relaxed and gentle, funny Dean. A little needy, but nevertheless light and easy… The Dean is the exact opposite of this emotionless killing machine that he had to interpret too often to survive. Here, the only weapon he needed was the puppy eyes that he sometimes threw at Castiel to order him another head massage among his tangled hair.

The hours elapsed deliciously between them as the episodes followed one another. Dean felt a little more filled with that warm feeling every time Castiel paid attention to him, whether it was when he rolled the blankets up on a piece of his bare skin or when he pressed a tender kiss down his neck just to feel it shivering. In those days, Dean wanted to do everything and do nothing at the same time. He felt powerful, important, alive.

The sun was certainly declining outside to give way to the long night of winter, but both dared hardly look at the hour for fear of breaking this tacit agreement of total tranquility. Of course, Dean got up at one point to quickly go to cook something before coming back to eat it in bed, and Castiel took the opportunity to take out the controllers of the game console located in Dean’s room after they had finished their series. Castiel won the game, as he always did, because he seemed to be just good at everything he did, and Dean mumbled for form in the face of his traditional forfeit of the loser before indulging in a back massage for his companion.

He savored every trembling muscle under his fingers, every scar that he began to know by heart, and paid special attention to these two reddish marks among the scapula reminiscent of deep cuts. But Dean knew these marks well, and he loved them even more since he knew how to exploit them. Sitting softly on Castiel’s buttocks, he pressed his fingers against the spine of his angel before slowly pulling up each vertebra. He massaged, caressed, brushed and massaged again until he felt Castiel trembling beneath him. Dean leaned a little further forward, so that his breath now came to warm the skin of his lover’s back. He smiles, concentrating his movements on the shoulder blades, teasing the hollows and bumps of his companion’s anatomy while detailing his pale, muscular skin.

"Never have I ever… lost in a video game on purpose to massage you." Dean suddenly said before he came to kiss Cas’s upper back.

Castiel sighed and a fine smile appeared on his relaxed face. It was their game, their way of saying "I love you" without really expressing it… They had developed it at the turn of a drink-fueled evening that had undeniably ended with very few clothes, but their trick had remained and everything was a pretext to reuse it now. It was simple and stupid and simply stupid, everything they needed to know and say what they thought about each other. One said a perfectly obvious fact by beginning his sentence with "never have I ever", to which the other had to answer with a kiss if it were true. To date, no one has stated facts that do not require a positive response. Normally, the game was played in turn, but, engaged in the roll, Dean continued.

"Never have I ever loved the touch of your wings more than anything in this world…"

Another kiss, on one of the marks this time, as if to contradict himself. An umpteenth happy sigh. Castiel did not complain about this brief change of rules.

"Never have I ever…" A kiss. "Loved as much…" Then another. " As with you…"

Castiel practically purred under the attention before Dean slowly retreated and lowered his hands. Like a perfectly repeated choreography, Castiel took the opportunity to take a deep inspiration before a loud "whoosh" filled the air and two huge black wings invaded the space of the room. Dean smiled tenderly, a wide smile full of teeth that wrinkled the corner of his eyes as he leaned forward again to kiss the base of the wings. No feather escaped his attention as he stroked and kissed every bit of plumage offered to him, and Castiel seemed to melt on the mattress.

Seeing the wings of an angel was a true honor considering how intimate the gesture was for the angel concerned. Castiel literally laid bare before him, revealing his purest primal form and putting his life in his hands. The wings of an angel were so fragile, so sensitive and yet so powerful and majestic. Even among them, it was not common for this heavenly race to show their wings, let alone in a moment as intimate as the one Castiel and Dean were living. But the months had accumulated between them and from this love a solid trust was born. Dean would never thank his angel enough for offering him such proof of love, but he could nevertheless try to love him so much in return.

"Cas…" Dean whispered against the heat of a large dark feather.

"I’m here." Castiel immediately replied. Always.

As a result, the words were lost, the gestures became feverish to make room only for the language of the bodies. Although Dean was woefully bad at expressing his emotions, he certainly knew how to show them and Castiel undeniably liked to receive. Nevertheless, of all the means they used to warm up on the cold autumn days, this was their favorite.

* * * @winchester-reload

Hiya! First of all, I’m sorry for the delay in publication. I had several personal things to deal with, a writing block and, among other things, the now imminent end of the show that is beginning to weigh on morale. However, I repeat that I intend to finish this collection on the 31 days of the Suptober! I’m not going to pick up the pace of "one work a day", but things will continue to move forward, hoping you’ll stay tuned for it!

You can find the whole series on Ao3

Tag list /!\ PLEASE TELL ME IF YOU WANT TO BE ADD TO (or removed from) THE TAG LIST so you won’t miss any updates.

@misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @styggtroll @thanks-tacos @petrichoravellichor @iamcharliebradburylevelperfect @ladywaywarddsc @hellfire37 @destiel-221b-sabriel @aloha-cowgirl @destielhoneybee @dysfunctional-destiel @ozonecologne @doofcas @castielrisingabove @zoerayne2426 @tibbinswrites @vicmc624 @thegirlofstarlight @berrieseveryday @staycejo1 @certaindeanwinchesterforcastiel @bab-spnfamily @lo-mindpalace

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unpopular-bishop · 4 years

Text

teamwin

“Do you like to bottom?” Team asks once they’re cleaned up and the lights are off. He’s got his head resting on Win’s chest and Win has to think that he probably picks up on it when Win’s heartrate suddenly goes crazy.

“Not really.” he settles on saying, trying not to come off unsure, trying to figure out where the sudden bolt of anxiety came from. Team hums once and then snuggles close and drifts off.

Win does not drift off for a while.

Win thinks he has a pretty healthy relationship with sex. He likes the connection and the physicality of it, the vulnerability. The way sweat mixes and there’s laughter when you’re comfortable with the person, the weird parts and the good parts and even sometimes the bad parts. He’s always willing to try something at least once, unless it makes him too uncomfortable, and he tries to have the same mindset for other people. He isn’t into anything too wild, that he’s discovered yet, at least, but he’s got a pretty normal sex drive. Despite the rumors, though, Win has not actually ‘got around’ all that much. He’s had a few girlfriends and boyfriends, a couple one night stands, and exactly two friends with benefits before he met Team, and there was a dry spell between his last time with someone and falling for a freshman swimmer with cute cheeks and a bad attitude.

All of this is currently pertinent to the conversation because, no, Win doesn’t think someone is assigned a role in sex and must live that role out for the rest of his or her or their life, but Win also is aware that he is experienced only in that he’s technically had more partners than Team has. None of those partners were exceedingly adventurous. Win started out in the world of sex topping and he’s never had a partner that was interested in him doing something else.

Until Team.

Like most things about Team, there’s that until before his name. Win didn’t really care about romance until Team. Win thought he was down with just chilling out, having some fun together, being casual, until Team. Win had never met anyone who was so willing to work hard to show he cared, even if his efforts sometimes didn’t work out, until Team. Win’s never been in love until Team.

Win’s never really been nervous about sex before, until Team, too.

“I’m not afraid that he’s gonna hurt me,” he says into his latte, slowly circling his straw around as he thinks out loud. He and Dean are sitting in Dean’s car, parked in front of an old movie theater. The car is off, windows down in the empty lot, with soft music playing from Win’s phone set on the dash.

This is their spot. Win’s never brought anyone else here, and he knows Dean has never brought anyone else, either. This is the spot they were parked in (on bikes, just starting high school) when Dean told Win about his family, and how alone he was. It’s the spot where Win first came out to Dean, and the spot where he finally broke down and cried because he didn’t actually want to be dating the boy he was dating but didn’t know how to say no. It’s the place where Dean once described his nightmares to Win, and the place where, last year, Dean finally broke and told Win about In and Korn, and he and Pharm. It’s their place, and that’s why he feels comfortable admitting to the weird, personal thoughts that have been floating around his head ever since Team hinted that he wanted to switch things up.

“He wouldn’t.” Dean agrees, sipping at his own coffee.

“And I don’t think it’s weird to bottom?” Win sort of says as a question, because he doesn’t, but if that were true then he wouldn’t be having such a hard time now, would he? Is he secretly an asshole without meaning to be? Has he been looking down on bottoms his entire sex life? That doesn’t feel right, but also the love of his life hinted that he may want to try being on top and suddenly Win’s whole foundation is shaking so obviously something is up!

“Start simple.” Dean suggests, which is always how he starts out his suggestions. Start simple. For Dean, things are always simple; don’t overthink or overcomplicate. Things are, or they are not. To start, figure out what is, and then figure out exactly what is means. Start simple.

“I’m worried about letting Team top me.” Win flops back in his head, huffing. It would be embarrassing to admit to anyone but Dean. But Win has held Dean through more nightmares than either of them would admit and Win is who Dean panic-called the first time someone had kissed him and Dean had burst into tears in the bathroom of the party because he felt like he’d cheated on someone who didn’t exist.

“Is worried the right word?”

Win thinks, carefully.

“I think so.”

“Is it that you feel it’s passive? You letting him?”

Win takes a long drink while he thinks that one through. He’s an active person. He’s aggressive about what he wants, he likes to chase. One of the things he ended up not liking with previous partners was having his hands restrained because it meant he couldn’t do what he wanted and that wasn’t enjoyable to him.

“Maybe.” he admits.

“Okay, so pin that.” Dean changes the song on the dash to something less loud. They’ve been listening to Brit Pop for an hour now and that’s about the extent to which Dean lets Win control the music. “Is it that it’s Team?”

“No.” Win says immediately and then pulls a face when Dean gives him a look that says shut up and actually give it some thought.

Win, reluctantly, shuts up and gives it some thought.

He loves Team. He trusts Team. He has never hesitated to really do anything with Team once he decided that Team was what he wanted. He likes how Team touches him and he likes what they do in bed and what they do out of bed. He likes swimming with Team and eating lunch with him, likes holding hands or just meeting eyes from across the room. He likes being with and around and near Team.

Is it the thought of Team that’s worrying him when it comes to this? The thought of Team topping?

“Maybe.” He says with a grumble.

“Are you worried about being topped in general?”

Win hesitates, thinks about it, then shrugs.

“Not really.”

Dean nods and Win takes a deep drink of his latte just to have something to do. So is it that he’s being passive? Or is it the thought of Team? Is he overcomplicating?

“What about Team is worrying you?” Dean offers after more silence, like he’s prompting, and Win appreciates it. Win is a go-with-the-flow kind of guy. He wishes he could just lay back and have a blast and not worry about this at all, but there’s anxiety in his gut when he thinks about having sex like that now, and he thinks that if Team knew that, it would hurt his feelings a lot. If Win has to talk this out, he wants to go in prepared and no one does prepared like Dean smacking him in the face with everything he’s doing wrong to get him prepared.

So what about Team is worrying him?

“He’s younger.” He decides. “No, that’s wrong. He doesn’t have much experience. I’m his only one.”

“Okay.”

“I’m not worried he’s going to hurt me. I’m worried...that I’ll hurt him?” Win tries to put the thought to words and fails. He stops for a second and then tries again, “I’m worried that I’ll let him down.”

“I wonder if you’re worried because this is gonna be the first time you’re both going in. You don’t have any experience bottoming. Team’s the expert this time.”

“Oh fuck.” Win blinks, sitting up straight, “Dean, what the fuck! Is that it? I’m not worried about Team topping me, I’m worried about me bottoming for Team!”

Dean claps three times, placid as ever, and drinks his coffee.

Win downs his latte like a shot, slumps back in the seat and looks at the sky through his window.

Huh.

“Wanna have a weird and awkward conversation?” Win asks once Team is in bed and they’re both warm and wrapped up in each other for the night. Team’s still wide awake, and will be for at least the next half hour while they both come down from their days and prepare to actually fall asleep, so Win thinks this is good a time as ever.

“Do we have to?” Team wrinkles his nose up at him and Win can’t resist leaning down and kissing him, just once, because it’s either do that or explode with fondness.

“Yeah, a little bit.” He admits and then has to resist the urge to kiss Team again when Team just sighs before settling in. Win has broken up with people so that they don’t have to have awkward conversations. Awkward conversations ended three relationships and a friends with benefits arrangement. Team just sighs and braces himself.

Until Team, once again.

He knows that if he’d said that last year, Team probably would have hit the ground running. Honestly, Win was probably in the same boat for a while there. But he feels safe now, secure in the knowledge that this isn’t gonna tear them apart or hurt them. He thinks Team must feel the same way, because he looks curious and slightly awkward already, but he hasn’t tensed up or tried to escape Win’s arms or bed, either.

“A couple days ago, you asked me about bottoming.”

“I don’t remember that.” Team suddenly ducks his head, cheeks going pink, “The end, goodnight, hia.” Win laughs and ends up needing to forcibly yank the blanket off Team’s face so they can look at each other again, “Team, come on. I promise, it’s gonna be weird but we can figure it out.”

“Ugh, fine,” Team complains, but he settles back down and they lay together in the dark for a few seconds in comfortable silence before Win starts up again.

“Yes, I remember bringing it up.” Team finally huffs, “What about it? You didn’t seem super into the idea.”

“I wasn’t.” Win admits, “But I wasn’t sure why.”

“Maybe you’re not into shoving things up your butt?”

“Okay.” Win pats Team’s face and resists the urge to cover his mouth. “Judging by what we do, like, nearly every day, I don’t think I have a problem with shoving things up butts.”

“Not my butt, maybe,” Team pinches him, “Maybe your butt is different. There are people like that, you know, who only like to put it in or be put in.”

“There are.” Win agrees, “But I never really thought I’d be one of them. I just,” he has to pause, gear himself up, “I’ve never done it before.”

Team stops where he’s been tracing insults into Win’s stomach, then sits up so he can look down at Win with wide eyes. Win can make out how big they are just using the moonlight streaking in through the windows and he tries not to flush under the surprised look.

“You haven’t? But you’ve done, like, everything!”

“I haven’t done everything, Team!” Win tries to decide if he should be amused or annoyed by that, “I have more experience than you, but that doesn’t mean I’m a sexpert, you know.”

“You sure act like it.” Team mutters and then yelps when Win smacks at his hip, “Okay, sorry! I just meant, you’re like...good, or whatever.”

“Thanks, or whatever,” Win sighs and stretches out, still under Team’s watchful, surprised eyes, “But yeah, I guess I just...got nervous. I talked to Dean about it -”

“Hia! Again!?”

“I talked to Dean about it -” Win repeats louder over Team’s whining, “And he helped me figure out that I’m not really worried about you topping, but more about me bottoming. It’s gonna be the first time I’m not able to, I guess, take the lead. You know more about bottoming than I do, experience-wise. I don’t wanna do it wrong.”

“Oh.” Team pauses and Win watches him let that sink in. When he smirks, Win can see that clearly in the moonlight, too. “Don’t worry, hia. I’ll be gentle.” he croons, and then switches back to normal, “But only if you want to.”

“I think I want to.” Win finds himself smiling, even as he reaches up to forcibly make the smirk go away with his fingers at the corners of Team’s mouth.

“Well.” Team smacks his hand away and flops back down, “I think I want to, too.”

“Good.” Win nods once, “See, that wasn’t so bad, right?”

Team hums, and they fall quiet again. Win does not expect it to last, and it doesn’t.

“Well.” Team sits up to look at him again, “Actually, if we’re gonna be awkward, I wanna talk about this, too. Why didn’t you talk to me about it if you were worried?”

Win cuts his eyes away. He was expecting the question but it still makes him feel called out and pulled open in a way he isn’t very fond of.

“Come on, hia.” Team pokes at his chest, “I know I’m not very good at talking and stuff, but I wish I could have helped you. I don’t really care if you talk to P’Dean, I guess, because I talk to Pharm, too, but this seems like something we should have worked out together?”

“You’re probably right.” Win admits and makes himself look back at Team, meet his eyes and hold them, “I was embarrassed, and I didn’t want to hurt your feelings. You don’t ask me about trying new stuff much, and I didn’t want to make you feel like you overstepped or anything. I just wanted to get my thoughts in order and Dean always helps with that.”

Team hums again, not agreeing or disagreeing, but just showing he’s listening. It’s one of Win’s favorite noises; just proof that Team isn’t sure but he’s still present and listening. He makes Win feel listened to. Just another until Team moment.

“I already know you aren’t actually cool, hia.” Team finally says and it would sting except for how it forces Win to laugh, bright and sudden.

“Rude! Rude, Team!”

“It’s true!” Team laughs back, shoving at Win’s hands when they fly up to pinch at his cheeks. He’s at a disadvantage, still using one arm to lean over Win while Win has both arms free but he eventually manages to catch both of them by a couple fingers on each hand and pin them to the bed above Win’s head with a loud huff of effort, “For real! I already know you aren’t some super cool senior, hia. I like you the way you are. If you’re embarrassed about something, you can just tell me, like I can tell you even when I’m embarrassed about something.”

“Yeah. I’m sorry, baby.” Win agrees, nodding slowly. Team adjusts his grip so he has Win by the wrists instead of just the fingers and Win lets him, feeling his neck and cheeks starting to heat at the way Team is leaning over him, holding him down with a playful sort of grip.

“It’s okay. I’m glad you could figure it out with P’Dean. But, you know, if something like this happens again...I want you to talk to me, too. Okay?”

“I promise.” Win says simply and knows that Team knows how much he means it.

“Good.” Team leans down for a peck, and then kisses him a few more times, until Win’s starting to feel a little dizzy with it. “Now, back to the issue at hand. Wanna practice?”

“Practice?” Win repeats dumbly, still blinking. He’s not used to Team taking that sort of initiative, kissing him so confidently, and he’s still recovering.

“Yeah, you know,” Team lets his wrists go and wiggles his fingers in front of his face, “Practice.”

“Oh.” Win says slowly and then nods without thinking about it too deeply, “Yes. Yeah. That sounds - good. Like a good idea. You want to?”

“Duh.” Team smirks, “It was my idea in the first place, remember, hia?”

“I remember.” Win says and then drags Team down for more of those deep, smooth kisses Team is handing out like candy tonight.

“I don’t wanna hear about it.” Dean says as soon as Win sits down, latte in hand and a smug smirk plastered on his face.

“Okay, but I’m gonna tell you anyway because you secretly do want to know.” Win says around his straw and takes immense pleasure in the way Dean’s already stoic face somehow falls even more.

#until we meet again #winteam #mine #tags: winteam week 2020 | day 7: teamwin | dean and the very bad no good deep conversation with his oversharing best friend (twice)#wc: 2.8k #ao3 link on first line

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