#yes i know where cas was actually sent i watched the show this is a joke

[davinaclaire16]

Wings of Dusk pt.2

Azriel x reader

Thanks for all the love and encouragement everyone! If you want to be tag in any future parts please comment on this part. I hope you guys enjoy!

Warning: angst

Azriel… once you said his name you couldn’t stop the smile that spread across your face and watched as Azriels eyes widened and just by you saying his name his shadows were frantic and whispering into his ear. It was all so unlike him and it took everything in you to pull your hand away and head back next to Helion. On your way back you cleared your throat and spoke “sorry spymaster but I’m afraid it’s hard not to know the name of the Illyrian who can wield the shadows themselves”

You had always had a special connection with the shadowsinger in fact you were what some would call best friends. That shadows that always surrounded him had never scared you like it did others, you actually had always found them stunning. It actually wasn’t Rhys and Cassian that met Azriel first…but it had been you. From the moment you met him you had always felt understood with him and you were the first person he had opened up to. You almost immediately dragged him to your younger brother to meet. Rhys and Cas immediately took to him and the trio had begun. Thinking back on it warmed your heart you all were merely children and yet had found each other. “ Y/N” “Y/N” said Helion.

“Hm yes”

“Y/N it would seem they are too flustered about your presence to speak. Would you like to fill me in on why they can’t seem to find their tongues”

“I um yes sorry my lord I am originally from the Night Court”

Helion paused before he answered and brought his eyes to mine almost in a silent question of why I’d never said anything.

“Ah so you know them…. And they know you…”

Before you could even answer Rhysand had finally found words and stepped forward with what you could faintly recognize as anger graced his features and he loudly roared

“Not just know Helion that would be my Sister who was presumed to be dead. And I would very much like to know why she’s here in this court with you.” Not a single one of Rhys words wavered and it reminded you that he was no longer new to being high lord like he had been when you were sent under the mountain.

“I would watch your tone and accusations while in my court Rhysand. Y/N is here of free will and seeing as I was not aware of that bit of information and your court members seem to be in a daze I find it necessary to reschedule this meeting for tomorrow. Rhysand you and you inner circle are welcome to stay in the palace, someone will show you to your rooms” with that Helion stood from his throne and you could feel the anger radiating off of him. Your shoulders tightened and you silently cursed yourself for being the reason Helion could of easily been made a fool of. You had to make a choice go talk to Helion or stay back and face your family and only one of those options were you ready for.

Helion was angry and it wasn’t because it became apparent to the other high lord that he had no idea who resided within his court no it was because you hadn’t told him. It wasn’t because it could be a conflict of interest or even that you were supposed to be his most trusted member of his court. It was because above all of that he thought of you as a close friend. You had helped him heal and rebuild his court after Amarantha, held him after nightmares where he had been glowing so blindly it would travel to your room and awaken you. You gave insight and troop suggestions like it was a no brainer. Stayed up until early morning with him discussing life and traumas. You were the only female he’d met who would sass him back or quip back with things not proper for a lady to even know about. You had quickly wormed your way into his home and heart without even trying. So to find that the person he had shared countless stories and secrets to kept something as simple as where who your family was pierced him deeply.

When you had followed after Helion you spared one last look at your family and you could still hear Rhysand yelling for you “Y/N! ….. Y/N DONT YOU DARE WALK AWAY! Y/N” his words rang through your ears. He tried to chase after you and Cassian had desperately got in his way repeating that this wasn’t the time nor the place. Could still feel the clawing at the walls within your mind, sure to give you a pounding headache later. Oh and poor Az when you had met his eyes before you walked out the door he seem so sad so hurt. You were sure there were a million self deprecating thoughts and self blame going through his mind. But you shook it off and push your way through those enormous gold doors and chased after Helion. Now you stood in Helions private lounge room outside of his bedroom. It was a place you two had spent many nights laughing and crying and now he’s pacing around angry at you an emotion you weren’t familiar with coming from him he was almost always calm and charismatic.

“Helion I’m sorry please just let me explain”

“Explain what? What Y/N! You never thought it relevant to tell me you Weren’t just from the night court you ARE the princess of the night court!!”

“Heli-“ you tried but were cut of and you realized that if this conversation kept escalating you very well might go blind as helion kept becoming increasing brighter by the second.

“I mean Y/N! You’ve told me stories of your family and things that have happened in your childhood! Was that all a lie?!

“NO! Everything I’ve told you has been true I only left out names that’s it. My life was on the line and after everything was over I don’t know! I was worried that if I told you who I was exactly you’d make me leave.. and I wasn’t ready, I love my family but that place…them it’s all a reminder and Rhys he. He forced me to go with Amarantha had commanded it and I didn’t want to forced to go somewhere else Hel” you used the nickname you had coined one night while he had a particularly harsh nightmare and you couldn’t even find the doorknob to his room it was so bright. So once you had finally found it and opened the door you found him slumped against it and you held him that night and reminded him that Amarantha was gone couldn’t terrorize his people or him anymore.

You could see Helion relax a little from your confession and the nickname and he just pulled you into a hug and his blinding glow slowly dimmed.

“If you still aren’t ready I’ll throw them out send them back and you won’t have to even breath in their direction.”

You laughed and knew that he would do just that if you asked but you were ready to see them maybe not ready to hear Rhys bitch at you but ready to talk to them again.

“I’m ok Hel it’s about time I face them I just needed you to know that I didn’t mean to deceive you. You’re my High Lord, my friend.”

Helion felt a tug of hurt pull at his heart at the term you had used to describe him but he pushed that feeling far down and within himself. A feeling he wouldn’t let see the light of day and only question on nights he watched you dance with some men of his court and had far to much faerie wine.

With that you gave Helion a light kiss on the cheek and exited on your way to your bedroom. A gesture that wasn’t rare between the two of you it was something you did to bring comfort and let him know he wasn’t just a high lord he was a friend and cared for deeply with his court. Once in your bedroom you took a second to breath and look around. You had opted for a less extravagant bedroom within the palace and had to listen to helions objections about it all the time. But you reassured him that what he considered not extravagant was by definition extravagant and it was true. Looking around your room it was large with its own walk in closet that Helion insisted on filling, a bathroom with a tub you were sure three people could fit in. The walls were white with gold crown molding adorning them. A gorgeous large canopy bed. But your favorite part and the reason you choose this room in particular was the gorgeous balcony that looked over the sea and pointed toward home. While you were taking a second and had opened the curtains there was a harsh knock at the door. You took a breath and readied yourself for whoever stood behind the door.

When you opened the door you were met with the face of your dear brother and before you could invite him it he had already pushed you aside and entered the room.

“Well please come in” you said sassily

“Y/N” Rhys struggled to get out.

Tags: @powerfulpantera

#azriel fic #azrielxreader #azriel shadowsinger #azriel #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #acotar x reader #acotar fluff #acotar smut #acotar fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of war and ruin #reader insert #rhysand #helion #helion acotar #sjm books #sjm ships #sarah j mass

[anthonycrowley]

good omens season two crowley confesses his love for aziraphale and is immediately sent to super mega turbohell which is just like, the office under his normal office

#yes i know where cas was actually sent i watched the show this is a joke #i am in despair over this let me LIVE #text #my post #gomens

[oviids]

pls share some of your spn fic recs 🥺🥺

ok, a few things first:

followers and mutuals who do not have supernatural brainworms, kindly avert your eyes

i don’t normally rec or even read much fanfic any more but this is a CRISIS ok (cont.)

there is so. much. content for deancas out there and i have incredibly high standards, several ancient ao3 bookmarks, can speedread, and want to spare you guys the experience of wading through it all.

i also have a section for spn femslash since I was pretty into that back in the day (sadly a lot less fan content for this :/)

I don’t really like au’s or pure smut (I honestly usually just skim or skip those scenes) so if you’re mainly looking for that kind of thing this probably won’t be very helpful to you. jsyk.

i’m not great at describing stuff but i’ll do my best, i’ll also try and add tw’s when neccesary.

i wil try and keep updating this with any other decent fics i find, feel free to rec stuff too since i’m like 7 years behind.(edit 1/25/21) this is getting looooong so i’m going to start making another list on my spn blog rather than update this one

(edit 1/3/21) since this has gotten pretty long i’ve added rating/approximate word counts and marked my particular favorites with an asterisk.

Dean/Cas fic:

So Says The Sword*** - explicit/85k. FUCK its good...au/time travel where dean is not pulled out of hell by cas and says yes to becoming the michael sword. honestly could serve as an alternative to actually watching the show, if you want to get into dean/cas without actually doing that to yourself.

Fata morgana.*  - teen/6k, pst s9 finale. very bela centric and i love it, she finds cas looking for dean in hell.

Redemption Road -misc/600+k. an incredibly long fic from a collaborative writing group back in the day. canon divergent from the end of s6 on, has a cool take on godstiel and the leviathans, as well as the lovecratian mythos connection. ngl when i reread it i only made it about 28% in but imo the casual reader can actually stop around there, the rest concerns a lovecraftian apocalypse that is still good (i think i don’t remember it very well) but not required to enjoy the first half. if you prefer i have an ebook version i can send you on gdrive.

Someone Who's Feeling For Me* - mature/45k, s12. they run into lisa braeden and dean thinks cas is into her while cas thinks dean still likes her. treats lisa way better than the show ever did and the miscommunication is pretty funny rather than annoying.

a turn of the earth - mature/95k. time travel fic where cas from s10 keeps showing up in deans life from a few years before s1 to right before the hellhounds take his soul.  slow burn, good character study, and at one point cas punches the dad in the face and it rules.

On the Wings of War - teen/85k, canon divergent s5. dean accidentally becomes the Horseman of War. plays fun, fast and loose with biblical lore, michael has some rights.

Named - mature/95k, alternate s5. EXTREMELY blasphemous in a fun sexy way. manages to predict metatron almost to a T. there’s one major character death and its literally jesus christ, everyone is very sad about it and it sets the rest of the story rolling. an alternate interpretation of cas’ mission to raise dean from hell which had me on the floor. ngl its kind of misogynistic at points, but its from 2010 and tracks with late oughts-2010 spn (sorry anna the author did you dirty here:/).

The Girlfriend Experience - explicit/15k. uhhh i don’t normally rec or even read smutty stuff unless someone i know is specifically asking for it but this has stuff like sam trying to be a good ally and dean thinking holding hands with cas is ‘kinda gay :/’ minutes after having gay sex with him.

i crippled your heart a hundred times - explicit/19k, s8. cas confesses his feelings and dean spends a long time getting his head out of his ass about it. truly hits different after the actual confession, despite being written six years early it feels like its actually what could have gone down more or less if the writers weren’t talentless demons who hate us.

My Roots Take Flight** - mature/125k. reverse au where cas is a hunter and dean’s an angel...OR IS IT???? an alternate retelling of s4. tw for briefly being set in a psychiatric hospital/the hospital being mentioned somewhat frequently throughout the fic, plus more references to torture in hell and heaven than usual.

The One Thing You Can't Lose* - teen/4k.you know those posts about how cas is a super-strong super-tough ancient warrior but he just lets dean tug him around because he likes it? thats it thats the fic.

Hands, From Which All Things Are Built - teen/14k, post s8′s ‘goodbye stranger.’ cas is on the run with the angel tablet but keeps in touch with sam and dean by text, he and dean still manage to be terrible at Actual communication.

Autrement, Danger - or, The Account of an Exceedingly Long Day - mature/30k, post s11. a monster that takes the appearance of your soulmate leads to some wild miscommunications and dealing with years of repression, also dean gets to see cas’ true form which is always cool. tw for non-graphic mentions of underage sexual assault/sex work.

Down to Agincourt - mature/explicit/900++++k, endverse continuation. endverse!cas survives his encounter with lucifer and discovers another time-displaced dean from s7. i’ve only read the two of four parts but its really good, veeeeery slow burn, has a lot of fun oc’s and takes a rather surprising but (imo) entertaining and intriguing turn into Hellenic history and mythology. usual tw’s for endverse/endverse!cas but nothing graphic, it’s actually pretty light-hearted (relatively speaking of course).

Nothing Equals the Splendor** - explicit/8k, THEE finale fix it fic you’ve been waiting for! posits that the entire final episode was just a (very bad and lame) djinn’s vision.

like moses and batman and james dean - explicit/31k, post s8. explores dean’s trauma and internalized homophoba from his technically canon experience with sex work and its impact on his relationship with cas. the sex work itself isn’t really shown in any detail but it’s still a relatively heavy fic.

Crazy Diamonds - explicit/25k, s4/alternate s14. fresh-out-of-hell dean and dean from 10 years in the future are displaced from time and sent to each other’s present.

where the weeds take root - explicit/30k. au where the men of letters kick them out of the bunker and they accidentally move out into the country, get over their codependence and semi retire. featuring chicken coop building, sam volunteering at a dog shelter, gardening, and blissfully mundane domesticity.

No Resting Place - teen/6k. djinn dream fic, switches back and forth between cas’ dream of being married to dean and retired from hunting to the aftermath when he wakes up. tw for brief mention of suicide since, y’know, djinn dream.

any port in a storm - mature/52k. post s8 finale. cas and dean have to pose as a couple going through a rough patch for a case and actually deal with their emotional baggage, cas struggles with being human and metatron is up to stuff.

all this and heaven too* - explicit/7k. in the author’s own words ‘...a love letter to every trans person who ever projected onto Dean Winchester.’ absolutely unzipped me emotionally and theologically, its just. so good. tw for very brief mentions of internalized transphobia/dysphoria.

Because it is* - mature/6k, finale fix it. killing chuck does not bring back anyone back and the winchesters spend a very long time dealing with what they’ve lost, cas and dean SOMEHOW still manage to have signifigant communication issues even after the confession. tw for suicidal thoughts/brief attempt.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit* - teen/4k, s6. when cas fell for dean it automatically soulbonded/angel married them, shenanigans ensue when dean finds out during the angel’s civil war. funny and actually written back when s6 was airing so cas is still (or at least pretending to be) kind of an OP asshole which is fun.

Rinse, Repeat - teen/3k, s8. angsty character study of cas as he’s reprogrammed and trained to kill dean. not really dean/cas since its just cas’ pov of canon events but its beautifully written and ends with him snapping out of it through the power of love (also now a canon event!).

Emergence - explicit/59k, canon divergent after s11. dean meets a hunter he only recognizes as their friend claire novak’s missing father, but soon realizes he might be the answer behind the mysterious void in his memories and feelings (aka everyone’s memories of cas are completely wiped away for three years).

Cuckoo And Nest - explicit/10k, early established relationship/character study, cas tries to figure out how he fits into dean’s life and space in the bunker.

Build a Home* - teen/20k, canon divergent s12. sam and eileen are cute and turn the bunker into men of letters/hunters hq and everyone but cas moves in, mutual miscommunication issues and pining ensues.

Down in the River - teen/5k, early s8, cas prays to dean in purgatory while sam and dean try to figure out a way to get him out.

Teaching Poetry to Fish* - mature/52k, ?? BC through the entire series/canon divergent s14 and 15. retelling of crucial scenes throughout the shows timeline from cas’ pov, feat. actual fish and poetry.

the minor fall, the major lift - gen/4k, post confession/finale fixit. dean goes into the empty to save cas and runs into several old friends (and enemies).

With the Kisses of His Mouth* - teen/3k, gen later seasons. dean and cas keep kissing by accident.

Remaining Grace - explicit/109k, alternate s6. au where cas asks dean for help with raphael and dean, of course, does. tw for temporary major character death/semi-graphic depictions of alcohol withdrawal.

The face of heaven.* - teen/10k, au, dean is a regular guy and cas is a fallen star (think ‘stardust’, kinda).

Stories Are Made of Mistakes*  - teen/5k. newly human cas has trouble getting used to a human body and humanity in general, but still figures out that he and dean are A Thing before dean does.

Hurry Up And Wait - mature/21k, canon divergent s12. a fairyland and quite possibly LOTR related case comes up and dean goes full fanboy, mary is introduced to the wonders of the peter jackson adaptions, many references and comparisons (including between cas and dean’s ‘friendship’ and arwen/aragon). also charle is still alive and has just been doing fairy stuff this whole time.

There Are Many Things - explicit/28k, s9. cas is extremely lonely/touch-starved and trying to figure out this whole human thing, as well as where he and dean stand after being kicked out of the bunker.

It's A Long Life to Always Be Longing - teen/40k, post s11 finale. amara helps dean by putting him in a magical coma so he can finally get some much needed rest and show him possible futures for him, sam and cas. meanwhile sam and cas go on a roadtrip (or several) to find componets for a spell to wake dean up. really good sam and cas friendship, they actually talk about their shared lucifer trauma and stuff.

Non-Photo Blue - gen/2k, s4/5/alternate s5. fifty moments from cas’ memories of dean.

Tall Grass - explicit/57k, canon divergent post series. cas becomes the ultimate plant dad. feat the wayward sisters gang, cathartic character growth, fun oc’s, domesticity, and lots of actual botanical info-dumping.

on vessels - no rating/gen/2k. established dean/cas, cas tells dean about how he used to imagine what it would be like to have him as his vessel.

search for tomorrow on every shore* - teen/11k, post-finale (extremely derogatory). some angels in jack’s new heaven act out and dean gets temporarily resurrected in 2003 and runs into his younger self.

Architecture of the Minotaur’s Heart - explicit/45k, very canon divergent post s1. dean’s new house seems to have a life and mind of its own, while in his dreams he sees glimpses of a world and apocalypse that never came to be and an angel that looks strangely like his mysterious neighbor, cas. loosely inspired by the book house of leaves (which i highly recommend for fans of weird horror).

The Distance Of The Setting Sun - explicit/17k, post s5. established dean/cas relationship, team free will finally takes advantage of cas’ abilities to go on vacation around the world.

diamond star halo - teen/5k, s11. dean lets cas use him as a temporary vessel while he recovers from rowena’s spell, sam is a long-suffering third-wheel.

Make Known** - teen/16k, s6/7. dean struggles to understand how cas could have become his enemy and whether he ever truly knew him in the first place.

blunt little instrument* - mature/1.4k, post finale. dean finally confronts his father in heaven, very cathartic.

my heart a compass*** - teen/10k, post confession. the empty forces cas to re-experience his most regretted moments while dean tries to snap him out of it and bring him home.

A Crash Course in Someone Else's History - teen/11k, s6. cas from the very start of s4 is brought forward in time by s6!cas to distract the brothers from his and crowley’s plans.

The Cuckoo Father - mature/8k, s7 au. the woman who found cas in the river post-leviathans does not marry him bc he was sent to her by god or whatever, but actually identifies him as jimmy novak and sends him back to claire and amelia.

The Dead Dean Clause* - teen/5k, post alt s5 ending. team free will celebrates surviving taking down lucifer by getting blitzed, cas lies to a cop and gets an impromptu driving lesson. title/description sound dark i know but it’s actually very funny and light.

Suck It, Judy Garland - mature/20k, s12 (after the ‘i love you...i love all of you’ episode). cas and sam have to pretend to be a couple for a case and dean is NOT happy about it.

By Daylight and In Dream - teen/16k, s5. pre-dean/cas, dean invites cas to use his dreams to hide from the other angels. tw for very brief mention of a memory/dream of alastair sexually assaulting dean.

The Five People You Meet in Heaven - mature/22k, post-canon. an actually happy (if sometimes bittersweet) heaven endgame written several years ago, though some details are rather eerily similar to the show’s ending.

heaven is a place on earth* - teen/2k. dean’s pov of some of the times cas left him behind throughout the show, and one alternate ending where he finally gets to stay.

I Cleanse The Mirror - teen/20k, alternate s6. dean’s body is stolen by an ancient elemental and his soul has to hitch a ride in cas’ vessel.

an exploration of gender; angelic*** - mature/4k. *oscar isaac voice* lets get into angel gender politics!! aka cas is trans.

Zenith - explicit/33k, s9. after 9x06 an angry witch curses cas with the ability to see supernatural beings and human souls.

La cucina. - gen/3k, alt s9. dean goes wild helping a newly-human cas find out what kinds of food he likes, or the early s9 domesticity we deserved!

Dean Winchester, Cocksucker at Rest***** - teen/7k, post-finale. john and mary finally come over for dinner and john reacts to dean/cas in a rather predictable fashion. SOOOOOOOOO good omg, its so funny and a little sad and very very cathartic. part of a series that has a few other really good short fics.

The Way You Didn't Go - teen/5k, s15. coda to 15.09, dean has nightmares about the moc!cas timeline.

On Drowning - teen/28k. dean saves cas after he nearly drowns, they both try and deal with the physical/mental fallout (aka the fic where thee iconic “you only touch me when you think I’m dead or dying” originates). tw for realistic depictions of drowning/triage/misc medical information.

The Thirty-Six Questions That Lead to Love* - mature/13k. claire has dean and cas pretend to be her gay dads for a case and they play the titular 36 question game, get mistaken for swingers, and birdwatch, among other things.

Assorted F/F stuff:

Deep Breaths* - mary/ellen, au where mary said no to azazel’s deal and let john stay dead, still becomes a milf.

Like Rebel Diamonds - krissy/claire, they become hunter gf’s on the hunt for cas to kick his ass for taking jimmy. not-so-stealth dean/cas as well.

To Ash and Bone - anna/ruby, same author as the previous fic (p much all of her stuff is good from what i recall). au where ruby is a witch and helps anna when she’s cursed.

Holy Clockwork Angels - jo/ruby, STEAMPUNK au with very cool worldbuiilding.

At Day's End - jo/anna (my fucking KINGDOM for more jo/anna content, the dean/cas parallels are allllll there), au where they are both at the camp in the endverse and gfs.

these posts - ok so not actually a fic but i’m now obsessed with this hannah/meg dynamic.

Tagelied - mary/ellen, the true story of how ellen got into hunting before angels interfered.

Hell's Bells** - meg/abaddon, alternate s8/9 where meg survives crowley’s attack with sam’s help and teams up with abaddon (who she has a sk year old crush on) to take back hell.

The Ecstasy of the Rose - anna/ruby, anna travels back in time to escape heaven and becomes a signifigant part of ruby’s old human life.

Angel Underground - anna/jo, kind of an urban fantasy au with a very intriguing premise (sadly its very short, i’d love to see more if this ‘verse).

Clover, Flame - billie/mary, billie was always the reaper that showed up to take mary after her death(s) over the years.

Drag Me To Heaven - anna/ruby, a variant on the ‘last night on earth’ thing with dean.

Come Home* - jo/anna, canon-divergent au where anna is the new waitress at the roadhouse and helps jo set up a (probably not really) haunted house for halloween.

#if you told me i'd be doing this in 2020 three weeks ago i'd have laughed in your face :/ #deancas #supernatural #fic recs #spn femslash #destiel #fic #the alie tag #spn posting

[orionsangel86]

Lets talk about the Bare Minimum

Okay guys, obviously there is a huge divide here among those of us that are super positive and excited and those of you that are really doubtful the finale will give us anything remotely worthwhile. So lets break this down okay? Perhaps it can get us all on a fairly level playing field?

What is the absolute bare minimum the Supernatural Finale can give us to satisfy us?

Everyone will have different ideas of course, but if we dismiss all our wildest dreams and high expectations and consider the fact that yes, this is still Supernatural and they do tend to run on a mix of batshit crazy, profound and poetic beauty, and things seemingly falling into place so perfectly it was clearly 100% accidental (eg: The Monster at the End of this Book) then we should probably try to find a centre point. A point that we can use to gauge how the episode will fair overall.

So what is the bare minimum?

Castiel returns

This is it. This should be the bare minimum we should expect in order to make this finale meaningful.

If we are given nothing else, Cas returning should be enough for us to nod and say “okay Supernatural. You tried. You got him back. He was there for the finale. That’s the main thing.”

If Castiel isn’t back and the finale is just Sam and Dean driving around looking for generic MOTW hunts like in Season 1 in some sort of bronly wet dream, that would be a massive anticlimax and miserable way to end the series. It will be the worst ending of a show since GoT.

BUT we know Misha filmed 20. I will hear no more to the alternative. Misha filming 20 is and always has been a fundamental FACT.

So Castiel returns. Bare minimum met? Right? Of course there are caveats to that key point.

Castiel returning in flashback form only, or as a memory or dream, whilst the actual Castiel still remains in the Empty is NOT an acceptable option. If the show takes this route, this is still below the bare minimum. This would be deemed a failure in my opinion just as if the finale is just Sam and Dean being bros on the road.

What really needs to happen for the bare minimum to be met, is for Castiel to be rescued from the Empty. Whether that is by Jack, by Dean, or by himself or some other means, Castiel must return from the Empty to fix the only actual loose end not tied up in 15x19. We should also finally get the Empty being sent back to sleep, because having just binge watched episodes 12-18 all in one week, let me tell you, the amount of times it is repeated that the Empty desperately wants to go back to sleep is a LOT. From what I have been told, the Empty isn’t even mentioned in 19, so that is the only plot point actually still hanging over the series.

Of course, had Castiel not confessed his “homosexual feelings of love” for Dean in 15x18, then at this point I would have said that the bare minimum I needed was for Cas to be saved, and for Dean to give him a heartfelt hug and a look of love and to say “lets go home” off into a future where we know the story ends with Dean and Cas together in an ambiguous relationship. (Honestly, for a long time, this is the ending I thought we would get).

But Dabb and Bobo have written themselves into a very specific corner.

Castiel’s confession was not ambiguous. Because of this, the big question hanging over the final ever episode of the longest running genre show on TV, isn’t about whether the heroes will stop the big bad, it isn’t whether or not they will live or die, nope, it’s whether the lead male character will reciprocate romantic love for his “equally male” (Note - I’m talking in terms of mainstream here don’t @ me) best friend. The big question Supernatural has gone and put to its audience is “is Dean Winchester also in love with Castiel and therefore, is he also queer?”

This is an unpresedented situation that the show has put itself in.

Because of this, the bare minimum is no longer just Castiel being saved. It’s also Dean answering that question that the show has put to us.

Castiel must be saved, and the love confession must be addressed. These things are the key points going into this final episode. If either of them are glossed over in any way, the show would have fundamentally failed it’s audience, its characters, it’s cast, and everyone involved in it. Given how optimistic and happy everyone who works on the show seems to be currently, I highly doubt that is the case.

So. Castiel must be saved, and the confession must be addressed. Do we accept Dean rejecting Cas?

There is I suppose, a very slim chance that this could happen. If the Network let their own homophobia get to them (before you come @ me, no I don’t consider the CW’s many young attractive lesbian characters to let them off the hook for years of avoiding any non stereotypical queer men. IT’S TOTALLY DIFFERENT) then they may have greenlighted Cas’s queerness whilst refusing to do the same for Dean. They may consider simply saving Castiel and therefore #resurrectingyourgays as enough to satisfy the queer viewers, even though Castiel’s love was not returned. Perhaps in the final episode we will get a flashforward to years down the line and Cas has got over Dean and is living it up with another man? It’s possible right?

It would also cause utter outrage in the fanbase. Dabb and Bobo are far more savvy than fandom gives them credit for. I personally think that had the network said no to Dean reciprocating Castiel’s love, then Dabb and Bobo would have kept it ambiguous, and simply strongly implied that they end up together in an ending like the one I always thought we would get when my hopes for Destiel were at a low point.

So Dean reciprocating Castiel’s love also falls under the bare minimum requirements for the episode to be a success.

How they go about showing Dean reciprocating Cas’s feelings I don’t know. Do I absolutely need a kiss? No. It’s not a bare minimum requirement. Anything beyond Dean simply telling Cas he loves him back and Cas smiling at him is a bonus. Perhaps they could show it the way they showed Jesse and Cesar in 11x19. Through affection and care, but no actual kisses.

Whilst I personally believe we will get a kiss, it’s not a bare minimum, and if we don’t get one I will still be satisfied so long as we get all of the following:

Castiel is saved from the Empty

Dean reciprocates his love

Dean and Cas end up together (whether that be to live lives together on Earth, or both go out fighting and reunite in heaven together. Whatever the case, they must end up together)

My 3rd point here is the only other bare minimum requirement I need to not feel like they have screwed it up. I don’t care whether Dean and Cas end the show alive or dead. What I DO care is that regardless of where they end up, be it Earth, Heaven, or even Purgaytory, they are together. They must end the series together.

There are of course many other things I want. I want Cas to give up his grace (by choice) and become a human (I really wanna see him in Winchester plaid at least once!). I want to see them slow dancing like Garth and Bess did in 15x10. I want Sam to reunite with Eileen and also get a happy ending. I hope they get to keep the damn dog too. Ideally, I want a soft epilogue, because these boys are good people, and they’ve suffered enough. Whatever else may happen though, so long as those bare minimum requirements are met, I will consider the ending a resounding success.

Personally, I don’t think I’m asking for much.

#supernatural #destiel #spn endgame #15x20 #destiel is canon #give us the bare minimum #the rest is confetti #lol

[bloodycassian]

LEATHERBOUND - Reader x Cassian - (I think I missed this request but I think someone req’d something similar) Reader is a librarian in Illyria when Cassian comes in asking for help finding something.

Cassian's favorite time of year in Illyria was the winter days where the sun was out. The winds were harsh enough to stun his wings, but the rays from the sun were warm enough for a perfect contrast. Not letting him freeze, but not letting him get too hot either. 

The muddiness also became packed ice instead of the mess it had been over the summer. It was still messy in the more trafficked areas, but not nearly as bad. He couldn't hide the joy that rept into his heart at the sight of so many Illyrians taking joy in the season. Small winged children threw snowballs at passerbys from a ledge. A broad winged male scared them off with a flyover. Cassian entered the small shop, the smell of dust and worn carpet whirled around him. It was comforting in a strange way. It reminded him of being a child. Innocent and curiously exploring different shops at his home.

The bell above rang in a dull tone. He looked up and saw the shotty repair job on the ringer. Not exactly as it had been when he was a child, it seemed. "Stay right there!" You called from the back, putting away the stack of books you held. They clattered into the bin loudly. The sound of rustling made him curious.

"I'm just here for-" He called, starting to step further into the room. The books lined the short walls, and the stacks in the middle looked percaiously stacked. They were organized, but the bottom of the stack seemed stained. He doubted the resources for another bookcase were available. 

"I know, just dont move. I just cleaned the carpet." You brought a towel from the front desk over and placed it beside the small outcropping of hard wood you had laid out for anyone first entering the store. "This is the last building in Illyria with carpets. I'd like to keep it that way." You said when the dark haired male gave you a pinched look. He bent and began taking off his boots. Boots that looked far too new for the likes of an Illyrian. 

Watching him do so, you noticed the two Siphons on his hands. Then the one on his knee. Your head went fuzzy. What had you done to deserve a visit from the Lord of Bloodshed? He noticed your stare and gave you a wolfish smile. You didn't flinch away from it. The wind howled at the gaps in the stone, and you cleared your throat.

"So what do you need?" You asked, crossing your hands behind your back. Ready to be of service. Hopefully he wouldn't demand too much of your small store.

"You said you knew. So you tell me." He said with a sly smile. You stammered, sweat slicking your palms. "I didnt mean- We have several ah..." You looked away, at the different categories of spellbooks and history of Prythian. Shame fell in your gut at the bottom layers of books that made the stack in the middle of the room.

"I'm looking for a cookbook. One with Illyrian recipes." He stepped to the carpet, his dark socks immaculate against the worn pattern. 

"Is the high lord a fan of home made treats?" You laughed at the odd request. Then covered your mouth, the embarrassment turned your ears red. "I'm sorry-" "No, its fine." Cassian chuckled, pulling a book off a shelf. It was of the first war, and was bound in dark leather. "He does. But the book isn't for him. The high ladies sister, actually." 

The one of hellfire and stone or the one that seemed to be a ghost? You dared not question him. "A solstice gift?" You asked, showing him over to the small cooking section you had obtained over centuries. They weren't of much use in Illyria, but the few travelers found them fascinating. 

"Yes, she's had a rough year." His voice was somber, but the hope still lingered in his eyes.

You let the words sink in. The silence wasn't uncomfortable, his presence was warm and welcoming, actually. As if he was putting off a vibe of 'I'm safe.' You handed him a complete cookbook full of basic recipes and baking. The cover was so worn the title was unreadable. Dark spots stained the inner pages, you knew because you'd borrowed the book several times. "We all have." He flicked through it for a moment, smiling. His teeth were immaculate, and a bit extra pointy on his canines. The sight of them sent a thrill through you.

"I recommend the sweet dough. It's spice free, the only thing you need for it is pine needles and sap." You flicked the pages to one you had bookmarked. The opposite side was full of different types of cakes to make with minimal ingredients. 

"I'm too familiar with it." He laughed, shaking his head. Some fond memories from long ago lingered there. He could recall the scent of the bread with full accuracy. The way it the needles would char on top of the dough if there were too many. 

"How much do I owe you?" He pinned the leather under his arm and pulled a satchel from his pocket. Your heart raced at the glimpse of so many gold coins there. 

"Ah- it'll be Twenty silvers." You said, embarrassment coating your tongue. He didnt even look like he was carrying and silver. He eyed you speculatively. "Twenty silvers for a full book?" He asked. You nodded, trying not to wring your hands. He fished a gold coin from the pouch and held it out to you. "Let me get you some change... it may take a second." You fumbled to the desk where you kept your coin inside a spellbound box. 

"Dont worry about it. I'll be back another time." He called, setting the book on the floor to pull on his shoes. "Lord Cas-" You began to protest.

"Just Cassian." He corrected, grunting as he pulled on the boots. "Call it a tab." He winked and eyed the ripped, hole filled curtains of the front window. How they swayed in the breeze that drifted in from the rocks. 

"I'll be seeing you." His eyes scanned you, and you nodded. "Be seeing you." You said back, your mouth dry. He was intimidating in the ways you'd never thought of. Not in a scary way, but in a sly way that made your heart race. The bell over his head dinged hollowly as he exited, shoving the book into his backpack. You tried not to stare as he left. 

+ The Solstice party was a success as it normally was. Nesta kept to herself in the corner with Amren while everyone else exchanged gifts. Elain's eyes lit up at the book, and she hugged Cassian with heart. "I'll be making you something tomorrow." She promised. Cassian felt the flicker of cold over him and shot Az a look. They glowered at one another. 

Rhys leveled a look at both of them that got them to straighten up. Feyre handed out mugs of hot cider. Mor brought around a bottle of liquor to mix with it. The night was warm with friends and joy. Besides the cold corner where Nesta sat. Cassian did his best to ignore it. As did everyone else. 

He was nearly the last to leave. The cider had effected him more than he thought. But it warmed his insides against the cold wind of Velaris. He wrapped his wings around himself to shield from the cold. He thought of the librarian who had given him the book. His mind drifted to the rest of that day, how Devlon had even seemed cheerful. 

He wondered if you were doing anything, if you had any family celebrating with you. If you had a mate that spoiled you. His heart kicked up at the thought of it. He hadn't noticed a ring...or any tattoos to signify a mating bond. He couldn't recall much else. He had been stunned by the beauty and simplicity of you and your shop. He couldnt remember if you had wings. 

The frustration ate at him. He had to know more. He needed to know if you had a good solstice. He made a plan. "It would be good karma" He told himself, entering one of the several shops on the way to the townhome. His excitement made it nearly impossible to sleep that night. + "Happy solstice." A voice called from the front door. You hadn't heard the bell chime. 

You rushed to the front, making sure that the carpet hadn't been ruined. The curtains whipped from the wind outside. The enormous Illyrian shut the door with a firm gentleness that made your heart race. His hands wrapped around a small wooden box. Well, it was small in his hands. 

"It's the day after solstice. Happy late solstice." You corrected, striding over to him and giving him a look about the shoes. They looked incredibly clean. "You still need to take them off." 

"I know. You need to open this first." He forced the box upon you and stooped to begin unlacing the boots.  "What-"

"Just open it." He stood and followed you to the counter. Heat flooded your cheeks, you hadn't gotten him anything. Not that you could afford it, or even knew what he would want. "Why did you get this?" You asked, trying to hide the tension in your voice.

"So you dont have to cook that sweetbread again." He said with a grin, staring at you. At how your hands delicately removed the lid from the box. Then at your stunned reaction at the waft of spices that spilled from the box. "Cassian-" You breathed, utterly speechless. 

"I have a request too...So you can't say its too much. It's for me too." He went to the shelf where he'd gotten the cookbook for Elain. "Make us these, and we'll call it even."

"Cassian... I'm not a cook. I dont bake." You laughed when he pointed at the spice cakes in the book. "Maybe ask the sister-" You pushed the box toward him, the heaviness of it screamed 'expensive' to you. Guilt marred the joy of receiving the gift.

He pushed it firmly back to you, locking eyes. He noted the way you tensed at that stare. He eased, trying to ignore the scent mixing with the smell of leather and spice. "I want you to make it, using these." He patted the top of the box. 

You debated with yourself. The male carried around more gold than you'd ever seen. And he wasn't worried about it. You figured if it was a gift then he genuinely wanted you to have it. You sighed and took the box, placing it under the shelf beside your bag. Your wings pinched at the movement. 

You ignored how his eyes lingered on your scarred members. You were used to it from some males, but never one as important and high ranking as him. He shook himself and refocused, pulling himself out of the rage he was feeling at the sight of your ruined wings. 

"Any other requests?" You sighed, feigning annoyance. His toothy grin made your stomach do flips. 

#acotar fic #reader x cassian #acotar #cassian

[waywardonesfilms]

Hey guys, some destiel brainrot for yall

Dean finds a way into the empty to find cas but finds more than he bargained for

The empty

Dean heard the stories. Cas told him what it was like when he had been here. But it was entirely different experiencing it yourself

He was surrounded by blackness. One shade of black. There was no difference between the floor and the surroundings.

The floor was hard, but made no sound when stepped on.

The silence was deafening. There was no sounds, no footsteps to break his silence, only the sound of his own pulse and the sharp breaths he was sucking in.

His ears roared despite the lack of noise, finding it hard to hear his own thoughts.

He spoke

Bad choice

"... Cas?"

His voice was deafening, echoing through the empty, warping his tone, taunting him. He blocked his ears, but his voice taunted him inside head, castiels name over and over again, yelling at him, screaming at him. His brain shut down, only hearing his name. He collapsed, shaking, rocking on the ground.

The sounds evetually subsided, until there was only small whispers of the name. Dean got up, deciding prayer was probably the best way to talk to cas.

He looked around him in all directions. Everywhere looked the same, so he walked forward. Hopefully it was the right way.

As he moved deeper into the empty, it started changing. It was no longer black silence. There was castiels voice, whispering accusations at him.

"you didn't care about me"

"you didn't even try to save me"

"you let me down"

Dean ignored them, still pushing forward.

Then it got worse.

He was walking, in the same straight line he had started on (how big was this place?) when he found himself looking at the rufus's summer house.

He was standing there, with other people who were blurry. All he could see was him and cas.

Dean remebered this.

Cas was crazy. Dean was angry at him.

"nobody cares that your broken, cas!" he heard himself say, echoing slightly. He looked over to cas's face. He looked hurt. Really hurt.

Guilt overtook dean's body. He turned from the scene, and walked in another direction.

He was met by another scene.

It was the bunker table, where cas was sitting on a chair, wearing a sweater, a smile plastered on his newly human face.

Dean deffinately knew what this was. He tired to turn away, but everywhere he looked, he could see it happening.

'He' walked up to cas, who looked up at him hopefully.

"you can't stay cas"

Cas's face made the same hurt expression.

Dean turned wway from it again. How many of these was he gonna have to endure?

He kept walking, seeing all the times he had hurt cas, yelled at cas, hurt his feelings, castiels voice getting louder and louder.

"YOU WERE NEVER GRATEFUL"

"I DID EVERYTHING FOR YOU AND YOU GAVE ME NOTHING"

"I SHOULD HAVE LEFT YOU IN HELL"

"I LOVED YOU DEAN"

Time was meaningless. He couldn't tell whether he had been there years, months or minutes. It didn't matter. He was stuck in this endless torture. Looking for cas, only to be confronted with everyway he had hurt him.

Maybe he shouldn't find him.

Maybe he was better off without him.

At this thought, he fell down on his knees and sat there, giving up. Cas didn't want to be found. He hated dean. Why would he want to go with dean? All dean ever did was hurt him. And betary him. And fuck his life up.

Another scene lit up in front of him. Dean didn't even look up, expecting it to be the same ones he had seen a thousand times.

Except this time it wasn't.

Dean looked up after the silence was to long. His heart froze, breath catching in his throat, tears threatening to spill over.

The scene showed the bunker, but his time it was the dungeon.

Cas's eyes shone. His face also shone. With pure happiness.

"I love you"

Dean mirrored the face he was making in the scene in front of him. He watched cas get taken by the empty.

The scene faded and he was alone again.

He put his face in his hands, hearing a whimper escape him.

He let go.

He cried.

He baweld, tears after tears after tears, hating himself. Why didn't he tell him. Why didn't he just man up and tell him he loved him.

He screamed at the void surrounding him, expecting echoes, but nothing happened it was just his voice.

His hands fell from his face.

He stopped crying and screaming and took a deep breath.

"I love you to" he whispered. He lay on the floor, to tired to cry.

A small ball appeared, faintly glowing with a soft golden light.

It hovered for a few seconds before dancing its way over to dean's shaking figure.

It hovered next to dean for a few seconds, before growing to the size of a small building, a tangle of light made of eyes, wings and claws.

Dean still lay on the ground, eyes covered, oblivious to what was happening.

"dean?"  dean heard in his head. It was castiels voice.

Dean stood up immediately, and froze, looking up at the creature in front of him.

It couldn't be

It was

"cas?" he asked.

"dean" cas repeated,

Dean took in the mess of light in front of him, in awe.

"is this your true form?" he gasped out, moving forward a little

"yes it is" cas sounded ashamed "I am sorry if it scares you"

"you don't scare me cas" dean beamed up at him "your beautiful cas" and dean wasn't lying. He was beautiful.

The light above him seemed to ripple and move in a way that could only be described as joyful

"really" castiels voice was full of hope and happiness. It was adorable

"hell yeah man, your beautiful to me no matter what" dean blushed and stepped forward, stroking one of the ligh ribbons. It glowed and rippled in response.

It seemed to hesitate before wrapping itself around dean and holding him, filling him with warmth.

Dean audibly gasped, loving the sensation. He had only just realised how cold he was before "you're so freaking warm dude"

Castiel ignored him "dean, what are you doing here" he asked, sounding angry.

"I'm here to save you, obviously" dean's scoffed and continued to stroke the light holding him.

"I was at peace with my descision dean" cas huffed

"yeah, well I wasn't" dean looked straight into the closest eye he could find "and I wasn't done with you" he took a deep breath "we need to talk man"

"I heard you before dean" castiels voice dripped with bittersweet happiness "there's no need for us to converse on the matter"

"so you know?" dean asked, his heart palpitatimg in his chest

"yes dean, I know" the light gripped him tighter

Dean let out the breah he hadn't realised he was holding "well, if it wasn't for your current state, I would kiss ya" he shakily laughed.

The light stopped moving. The light around his waist moved to drape over his shoulders instead, lighting up with blinding light

"cas?" dean asked before the light started to change shape. The wings, talons and yeyes strayed shrinking, imploding into themselves. Slowly, the shape of a man formed. The light draped around his shoulders turned into arms.

A fresh, trench-coated castiel stood in front of dean, arms draped around his shoulders.

Cas opened his mouth to speak but dean leaned forward and wrapped his arms aroind his waist, closing the distance between their lips.

Cas kissed back instantly, hungry and full of unspoken words that were to difficult and complicated to articulate. Before dean could deepen the kiss, cas drew back "guess you weren't lying about that kiss" his breath tickled dean's lips, no longer speaking in dean's mind.

Dean laughed and leant forward again but cas pushed him back a bit

"dean, I know what the empty does to people. Whatever happened, whatever you saw..." cas smiled a little "I love you. You don't need to feel guilty anymore" cas held his neck tighter "and I already know you're sorry"

"I am sorry... And I love you to" dean repeated.

Cas leant in this time but paused, right before their lips touched.

"how are you planning to get me out of here" cas asked, concerned

"well, I kinda sent a prayer up to the jack almighty and when I send him the signal, he will pull both our asses out" dean beamed

Cas smiled "for once, an idea that could actually work"

"damn right it's gonna work" dean laughed "but I'm not gonna send the signal just yet"

"why not?" cas tilted his head adorably

Dean's voice dropped and he leant into cas, lips almost touching "we still got some catching up to do"

...

#supernatural #castiel #dean winchester #destiel #destiel fic #destiel fanfic #destiel ficlet #deancas #Destiel kiss #Destiel first kiss #15×18 #spn 15x20

[kaywinchester]

Last Resort

anon asked: Hey! I love your work! Do you think you could do a sister!reader fic where Dean, Sam and Cas are away on a long hunt, and the reader (younger, maybe between 11-14) has a panic attack? Since her brothers nor Cas can help, Crowley shows up... Thank you!

Word Count: 1,762

A/N: I know panic attacks can be different for a lot of people, so I kind of just made the panic attack in this story how mine usually are. I also set this before the boys found the bunker since Crowley is still around.  *Also not my gif*

“Hey, wake up.... Y/N c’mon wake up.” Sam said as he shook your sleeping form. 

You rolled over to your side and blinked your eyes open slowly, adjusting to the light shining in from the hallway.

“M’what?” You mumbled.

“Y/N, Cas called us. Dean and I have to leave to go help him, it’s important.”

“What’s going on?” You wondered, looking over at the clock on the nightstand to see that it was 2:30 in the morning. 

“We’ll call you and explain everything later, but we have to leave. We might be gone for a few days but I wanted to let you know.” Sam said frantically.

“Okay, call me in the morning.” You said, still half asleep and not really understanding what was going on. 

Sam nodded and shut the lights off as he and Dean gathered their things before leaving the motel room. You rolled to your other side and fell back asleep within minutes.

....................

You woke up the next morning and sat up in bed, looking around, you were confused as to why Sam and Dean weren't there. It took you a minute but you remembered Sam waking you up. Just as you were thinking about where the hell they went, your phone rang.

“Sam?”

“Hey, how’re you doing?”

“Uh, where are you guys and when are you coming back?” 

“Sorry for leaving in such a rush. Cas called us about some other angels that are going around taking people out. Normally he’d be able to handle this himself but they're moving pretty fast.” Sam explained.

“When will you be back?”

“Not sure, but this one might take a few days. Maybe a week at worst, but we’ll keep you updated.”

“What about food?” You asked, glancing at the small motel kitchen. 

“Dean went on a supply run after you fell asleep last night, the fridge should be stocked. We wouldn’t leave you alone if we thought you couldn't handle it.” Sam said.

“Okay, well, hurry back.” 

“We will. Gotta go, we’ll talk to you later.” “Stay safe, Y/N/N.” You heard Dean say in the background.

....................

It had been 4 days since the boys left and you were bored out of your mind. You had opened snack after snack, watched way too much tv, and even snuck two of Dean’s beers. You knew he would notice and be pissed off but you didn't even care at the time. 

Just when you thought you would be fine by yourself, you weren't. 

The paranoia started to set in, which happened often when the boys would leave on longer hunts and not take you with them. Sometimes, you were able to brush it off and be patient until they got back. Other times like this, it was like a nagging feeling of terrible thoughts that would set off a panic attack.

There was a string of bad thoughts that kept rushing through your head. Wondering if Sam and Dean would be okay, if they were going to make it back safely, or if they were already dead and you just didn’t know it yet. 

These thoughts sent you pacing back and forth around the motel room. You chewed your lip as you imagined Sam and Dean walking through the door with their bags, trying your best to calm yourself down. 

You sat down on the edge of the bed as you felt your breathing picking up, feeling so panicked and uncomfortable, being alone for longer than you were okay with. You wanted to call Sam and Dean to check in but you didn’t want to be a bother. Your brothers knew that you had occasional panic attacks, but they didn’t know the extent of them. It was also a little embarrassing, so you decided to keep it on the low. 

That’s when your phone rang, seeing it was Sam, you answered almost right away.

“Sammy?” You breathed out.

“Hey kiddo. What’s up?” Dean answered instead.

“Uh, hey.... nothing much.... Is Sam there?”

“Yeah, he just fell asleep in the passenger seat. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s fine, just um.... when will you be back?”

“We just finished up actually. We were able to track down the last string of dickhead angels so were on our way back right now.”

“How long?” You asked a little too eagerly. 

“Should be there in about 4 hours, could be less.... You know how I drive.” Dean let out a chuckle. 

“Ok great, hurry back.” Was all you could think of saying before hanging up the phone. 

....................

Sam stirred in his seat, waking up and turning to Dean to see his phone in his hand. “What are you doing with my phone?”

“Y/N called, she was just asking where we were.”

“Oh. How is she?”

“Good... sounded a little weird though.”

“What do you mean weird?”

“I dunno. She’s probably just getting impatient.”

Sam took a moment to think about how Dean worded that, realizing you might've been having an episode.

“No more stops tonight, let’s get back as soon as possible.”

“Why?”

“She might be panicking a little bit, we’ve been gone for almost a week.”

“She’ll be fine, she just needs to get used to being on her own.” Dean started being insensitive. 

“Dean, I don’t think you know how panic attacks work.”

“She doesn't still have those, does she?”

“Yes, as far as I know she does, and depending on the person, they can get pretty bad.”

Dean didn't say anything after that and continued to drive faster. 

....................

You sat on the floor up against the motel bed and talked to yourself in your head, praying to Cas since your brothers were still a long ways away. You repeated the same message over and over, expecting to see Cas pop up in front of you, but it never happened.

You started to panic even more that you started to repeat your cry for help out loud, not to anyone directly, but in hopes of feeling like someone was listening. 

You weren’t expecting it but someone was listening. 

And that someone was Crowley.

Crowley appeared after minutes of you talking, it scared the shit out of you, making you spring up from where you were sitting. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” You questioned.

“Well, someone is a little uneasy from what I heard.” He glanced back at you.

“Why are you even listening to me?”

“You clearly wanted someone to, and I was in the area.” Crowley said jokingly.

“Sam and Dean aren’t gonna like it when they see that you’re here.” You said as you backed up out of habit.

“Sam and Dean aren’t going to be here for a while now are they love? I might as well give you some sort of company.” He smirked, as he pulled out one of the kitchen chairs to sit down.

“Why are you acting nice?”

“Who said I was acting? The king of hell can’t do little Winchester a favor?”

“Why would you want to though, it’s pretty unlike you.”

“Let’s say I owe you and your brothers one, I can’t always be ruining things can I? That would just be bad for my reputation.” Crowley sassed.

You scoffed at his sarcastic remarks, then realizing that he did a good job of distracting you from how you were feeling.

“Thanks” you gave a small smile, accepting the nice gesture Crowley gave. 

“No need... Well, I guess my work here is done.” Crowley sighed. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have business to attend.” Before you could turn around to hear what Crowley was talking about, he was gone. Moments later, you heard a familiar car engine pull up in front of the motel room. 

Perfect timing.

You drew the curtains to reveal your brothers emerging from the car, with Cas already walking up to the door.

You let out a sigh of relief as you welcomed all three of them inside.

“Hello Y/N.....” Cas paused and looked around with suspicion growing on his face.

“What’s wrong?”

“I had a sense that one from the opposite side was lingering in this vicinity.”

“Okay, I literally understood none of that.”

“There was a demon here at some point. I’m sure of it.”

“Y/N, what’s he rambling about?” Dean asked as he hauled in the last of the things from the impala.

“Uh, I don’t know.” You lied.

Sam could see right through you face and knew something had happened. You didn’t look okay.

“Y/N, was there someone here? Did something try to hurt you?” Sam asked, grabbing Dean’s attention, stopping him from what he was doing.

“Well, Crowley...”

“Crowley!? Was he here?” Dean’s voice boomed.

“Dean, can you please not make a big deal...”

“Big deal!!?”

“Dean, dude seriously chill out. Just tell us what happened, Y/N.” Sam interrupted.

You told the three boys everything that happened. Sam immediately felt bad that he wasn’t there. Dean was worried that his little sister dealt with panic attacks this bad, but he still wasn’t happy that the king of hell just decided to pop in without warning. 

“Y/N/N, why didn’t you tell me over the phone?” Sam asked.

“I didn’t want you to worry. Plus, you were too far anyways.”

“Well next time that happens, you call us, no matter where we are. I promise, you mean more to us than our work, we’d drop everything, even if we were miles away just to get to you.” Sam explained.

“Yeah, what he said.” Dean chimed in.

“Wow, I love how much you care.” You joked.

“You know I love you Y/N/N..... but I’m gonna have to lay down some rules with Crowley, and one of them is no dropping in when I’m not here. I don’t trust that shady punk.”

Sam rolled his eyes and shrugged his arms, motioning for a hug which you gladly accepted.

“Nothing but chick flick moments over here. Get a room.” Dean scoffed.

“Shut up!”

“So, where is Crowley now?” Cas asked innocently.

“Were you even listening the whole time?” Sam asked confused.

“No, there is many things being said over angel radio.” 

“God dammit, Cas.” Dean said as he got up to grab a beer out of the fridge. “Who drank my beers?”

“Wasn’t me...” Sam shrugged. 

You knew you were in big trouble, forgetting about the choices you made earlier. So you slipped out the front door to let Dean cool down, but he had other plans. Sam quietly ratted you out as he motioned to the door that had just shut.

“Y/N! Get back here!” 

Requests are open again!

Tags:

@jackjackljaqui ​@hunting-the-grievers @susan-is-in-the-house@flirtyonsie @mersuperwholocked-lowlife @justsomedreaming

#spn #spnfandom #spn fanfic #spn blog #supernatural #supernatural series #Supernatural Fan Fiction #supernatural blog #supernatural fanfiction #winsister #sister winchester #sister!winchester #winsis #bobby singer #john winchester #winchesters #Sam Winchester #dean winchester #sam x reader #dean x reader #dean winchester imagine #sam winchester imagines #sam winchester imagine #supernatural one shot #supernatural one shots #spn one shot #spn one shots

[madamewriterofwrongs]

my sweet darling - how about an armed forces 911 AU? Maybe Eddie meets Navy Seal Buckley overseas? Maybe they meet back stateside at the VA?

You, my darling, always send me such fun and interesting prompts. I promise I didn’t forget. 

Ooh, okay. Let’s see...

Prompt Me with AUs

Delta X-Ray (I am Sinking) 

Read on Ao3

Eddie first sees him as he’s getting off the plane in Washington. He’s going to receive a medal. Apparently his work in Bagram made him a hero and not a broken, shell of a man. Who knew. And really, it’s just a glance because he has other things to worry about besides a Navy man getting dressed down by his captain. He doesn’t need to hear what’s being said to know that’s exactly what’s happening. He’s seen that look too many times, felt the hot breath of his superior as they spat harsh words meant to ‘toughen him up’.

As he passes the sailor, he hears something to the effect of “if it happens again, you will be dismissed.” And Eddie wonders how many times this particular man has received this exact lecture. It doesn’t really matter, anyways. He just wants to get his medal, shake a few hands of politicians who think they had anything to do with his ‘accomplishment’ and go home to his wife and child – ex-wife, he reminds himself. Shannon had the papers shipped to Afghanistan. Couldn’t get away fast enough, his mind bitterly supplied. All he would have at the end of the day was his son, and a medal to replace the wedding band he’d worn since he was 19.

Before he knows it, he’s standing on a small stage, a million lights flashing in his eyes as cameras and stage lights practically blind him. His shoulder aches – out of the sling for the afternoon so he can at least look more put together than he feels – and he’s dizzy from the attention. That’s his excuse for why he doesn’t recognize the man standing beside him.

“Seaman Petty Officer First Class Evan Buckley.” A blond man steps forward and Eddie catches himself staring at the dress whites and stone expression for longer than is strictly necessary. He seems a far cry from the officer being scolded less than an hour ago, but it is definitely him. And he was standing on stage beside Eddie, about to receive a medal of his own.

“For distinguishing oneself by heroism not involving actual conflict with an enemy of the United States, Petty Officer Buckley is awarded the Navy and Marine Corps Medal.”

As he watches the stripes being pined on the officer’s lapel, he lets himself wonder what crime the man could have committed to be dressed down and rewarded in the same afternoon.

He’s so curious, in fact, that he nearly misses his own name amongst the titles thrown around.

“Staff Sergeant Edmundo Diaz.” He steps forward, holding his breath until the entire ordeal is finally finished. “For gallantry in action against an enemy of the United States, Staff Sergeant Diaz is awarded the Silver Star.” The medal is heavier than he anticipated, but he supposes that makes sense. It is quite a burden he’ll be carrying around, and now he has a gold star to go with it – he wants to chuckle at the irony of his ‘Silver Star’ actually presenting as a golden one.

It seems everything about his life is a life.

There were a lot of reasons Eddie hated attending events like this: The politics, the bravado, the crowds of people ‘thanking him for his service’. Mostly, though: he never knows anyone. Sure, he can charm a senator or two for a few minutes, swap stories with other officers from other divisions about where they were and what they saw. But those are fleeting relationships, meant to get him through the day. He’ll go back to his hotel room at the end of the night with no more friends than when he’d stepped off the plane in this awful, awful town. Eddie is tired of ‘schmoozing’. With any luck, today will be the last time he has to tell the governor’s wife how lovely she looks in her dress.

That’s when he spots the man sitting at the edge of the bar like he’s trying to hide from the world, and he decides to make his way over.

“Do you mind if I join you?” He asks, even as he sits down.

The other man’s eyes light with recognition – and damn, are they as blue as the sea. “Not at all. Diaz, right?”

“Eddie.” He supplies, raising a finger to the bartender to snag his attention. If he is going to make it to the end of the evening, he’s going to need one, good drink. “And you’re Buckley.”

“Actually, it’s Evan but you can call me ‘Buck’.” His amusement must be evident because his new drinking buddy supplies the answer. “There are a surprising amount of ‘Evan’s in the Navy.”

It had never occurred to him to check how many ‘Eddie’s were in his squadron. Maybe he should ask his CO if that’s why he always called him by his full first name.

“Congratulations, by the way.” Buck looks somewhat nervous even as the words leave his mouth. “On your medal. Good job.”

“Oh.” Is all Eddie can bring himself to say as he stares into the bottom of his glass. “Thanks.”

“You don’t look too happy about it.”

He really isn’t doing a good job of hiding his emotions if this relative stranger ca read him so easily. “No, I-” he takes a deep breath to recalibrate his thoughts and paste his best fake smile. “It is a great honour.”

“Bullshit.” Buck laughs in his face but for some reason, Eddie doesn’t bristle nearly as hard as he expected. It almost feels playful. The rest of Buck’s response is cut off by his buzzing phone on the counter. The man quickly grabs it long enough to check his notifications, returning it to its place at the bar with a disappointed look.

“Are we keeping you from something?”

“Uh, no.” It’s Buck’s turn to look caught out and in need of recalibration. His expression changes much slower. “I’m just waiting for a call from my sister. I sent her an invitation to this thing but she never responded.”

Eddie has experience with family not coming to big social events like this one. Of course, in his case, he never invited them in the first place.

“Family ain’t easy.” He shrugs as he takes a long sip of whatever burning liquid he’d ordered – it really doesn’t matter so long as he can stay sitting here and not mingling with the crowds of vultures.

“It’s more than that.” Buck looks worried, and the way he bites his lip is… Eddie shouldn’t be focusing on that. “It’s just…” The man shakes his head, dismissing whatever feelings were eating at his gut. “I don’t want to bore you.”

“Please.” Eddie leans into his space with a playful smile. “It can’t be any more boring than this event. Please try to bore me to tears, if you dare.”

When Buck smiles, Eddie’s heart flutters out of his chest and sits beside him as they listen to Buck begin to speak. He tells Eddie about his sister, how she cared for him growing up, how she went away with her asshole of a boyfriend – now her deceased asshole of a husband – leaving him to fend for himself. He talks about travelling the country, trying every odd job he could get his hands on, until a buddy of his suggested he join the Navy. And he loves the work, he really does, but he hasn’t seen his sister in over a year. Their last conversation ended in a fight about some family secret that Buck is reluctant to talk about. Even Eddie can tell that the man just misses his sister. No matter what the argument was about.

Eddie finds himself talking – in less detail – about Shannon and the divorce and his son at home. At Buck’s prompting, he shows off his favourite photos of Christopher (avoiding the one burning a whole in his shirt pocket, torn and bloody, which never leaves him). The man’s face positively lights up when he sees the kid, offering an appropriate amount of sympathy for his divorce without pushing him for more emotions.

It’s easy talking to Buck, he realizes after a few hours. Because suddenly, the venue rental is nearly up and he’s still sitting at the corner of the bar, talking to Buck. Sure, a few people have passed by and shaken their hands, thanking them for their service – Eddie cringes every time and Buck has to hide his laughter once he realizes – but for the most part, it’s just the two of them, sitting and talking.

“The flag signalling we use now was established in 1855.” Buck explains as he leans further into Eddie’s space. “And while Robert Morse invented Morse Code in the 1830s, the International Morse Code that we use didn’t come out until the 1850s.”

“How do you know all of that?” Eddie was fairly certain he hadn’t had to study the history of communication when he was in training. But he’d also been very focused on his medical textbook.

Buck was incredibly cute when he blushed, Eddie decides – though he opts to keep that opinion to himself for now. “I get bored and I read.” The man shrugs nonchalantly, as though he hasn’t been entertaining Eddie with stories of Naval history and his own dumb-ass mistakes all evening. Honestly, Eddie wants to sit here all night and listen to Buck tell him stories of the world. It seems like he’s lived a lifetime already. And what has Eddie done? Gotten a girl pregnant, joined the army, gotten shot, and now he doesn’t even have a wife to go home to.

“Can I ask you something?” Eddie realizes too late that Buck looks nervous. He thinks he probably wouldn’t have said yes if he’d noticed. “How did you get your medal?”

Now he knows he doesn’t have to answer – and his initial instinct is to close out his tab and see if he can run to El Paso on his still-injured leg. But he also realizes that he hasn’t told anyone since it happened. Not the full story. Even now, he might not have the words. But he tries.

“Our helicopter got shot down while transporting wounded. I could still move so I got everyone out. Or I tried to get them out.” The echo of gunfire is not as distant as the others told him it would be. He can still smell it. “Support finally arrived and they decided to give me a medal for holding down the fort.”

Buck places a gentle hand over his and Eddie gasps, reminded that it has been a very long time since anyone has touched him. God, how he misses it.

“You saved wounded soldiers in the middle of the desert while being fired on. And you think you were just doing your job?”

“I’m an army medic.” He reasons with the bottom of his glass. “It’s my job to save people.”

“Maybe. But I don’t think that’s why you do it.” Without elaborating, Buck smiles at him and Eddie forgets the question.

“What about you?” He asks instead. “What’s yours for?”

Unlike the enthusiastic, bubbly personality he’s been talking to for the last few hours, Buck melts into the face he saw up on that stage. The stoic, professional.

“We were on our way back from an escort mission when we encountered some rough seas. I happened to be on deck with the chief mate when he had a stroke. I tried to tend to him but the storm was getting worse and no one could find the captain, so I just took over navigation. It was rough, I had no idea what I was doing, but we all made it out safely and the chief mate was okay.” As Buck shrugs, memories of an overheard conversation come flooding back to Eddie’s mind.

“Wait, were you on the USS Angelo?”

“Yeah. Why?”

Eddie can’t believe it. He has to laugh. “You were the cadet who sailed out of Hurricane Ida?”

“I am a petty officer first class, I’ll have you know.”

“Buck, you navigated a 2,000 ton ship out of a hurricane and all they gave you was a lousy medal?”

“I should get that printed on a t-shirt, or something.”

“That was incredibly reckless but also incredibly brave. Buck, you’re a hero.”

“I was just doing my job.” The smirk tells Eddie he knows exactly what he’s doing but it still hits him that he’s throwing Eddie’s words back in his face. Cute and cheeky.

He doesn’t know why he asks – well, he does, but it’s incredibly stupid and impulsive, and he definitely can’t blame it on the alcohol but he sure would like to.

“How long are you in town?”

Buck looks pleasantly surprised by his question but answers with regret in his eyes. “I head out with the Fifth Fleet in the morning.”

Wow. “You just got a medal, and you’re headed out to earn another one?”

“Something like that.” Buck laughs and Eddie wishes he was braver than he felt. “But I won’t be gone forever. And I’m really good at telegraphy if you wanted to send anyone a message.”

He’s so grateful that Buck has the good sense to be everything he needs right now. Because asking the next question is easier with someone standing next to him. “I suppose I’ll need a way to get in touch with you, then.”

Buck winks and Eddie has never been gladder that the concept of ‘standing’ was only metaphorical. The man should not be so irresistible after only a few hours, but Eddie can’t help but watch him push off his barstool and walk around the side of the bar.

“Hey, Diaz!” The spell is broken long enough for him to look across the room at where his name is being called. He waves at old friends – well, Senior Airman Han and Space Force First Sergeant Wilson are the closest things he has to old friends but in actuality, he’s not sure he knows their first names. “We’re going to the afterparty, want to join?”

On a normal night, Eddie would decline on the basis that he doesn’t want to go, and would rather lay in bed and watch reruns of ‘Murder She Wrote’. Tonight, Eddie wants to decline on the basis that he doesn’t want to go, and would rather stay up all night talking to someone who makes me feel curious about the future.

“Not tonight.” He shouts back across the room. “I’ll catch you at the next ceremony.”

They wave him off because they know it’s the same excuse he makes every single time but the only thing that matters is getting back to Buck.

“So.” He turns to the bar only to find it empty. The seat beside him is also unoccupied, as is any of the space surrounding him.

Had he dreamed up Buck? Had he been imagining this person who made him feel like divorce wasn’t his last chance at happiness? Was he truly so desperate and lonely?

“Hey.” Eddie looks up with too much hope in his eyes to only come face-to-face with the bartender. “He left this for you.” The man – who is not Buck, no matter how much Eddie hopes to see those eyes again – slides a napkin across the counter and walks away before Eddie can ask anymore questions.

He picks up the napkin and reads the blue ink-stained note written in messy scrawl.

Kilo

--... .---- --... ..... ..... ..... -.... --... ----. .----

The dots and dashes he recognizes as a series of numbers – a phone number, he hopes – but the word above? He tries to recall his academy days.

Kilo. Short for Kilogram. Used in the International Code of Symbols to represent the letter ‘K’. In Maritime Signal Flags, it indicates: I wish to communicate with you.

He’s pretty sure the bartender hates him for how late he stayed and how loudly he laughed at Buck’s note, but he can’t bring himself to care. Instead, he spends his energy memorizing the napkin’s contents long after he’s input the number. It’s more than just a piece of paper: it’s hope.

#military au #911 on fox #911 fox #buddie #eddie diaz #evan buckley #buddie fic #911 fic #first meeting #cj answers things #florenceandthemachine #cj writes things #love flo

[ender-baggins]

Just watched 14x13 Lebanon.

Will preface with the fact that this was a bit of my commentary on the previous episode, and that I do think John Winchester was a crap parent

Lebanon was a pretty good episode, actually. I know some people hate it, and I started off prepared to seethe every moment that John was on screen. but then I managed to get one foot out of the John-crit zone and put it in Sam and Dean’s shoes, and looking at it from both perspectives? The episode has a lot of nuance to it.

Spoilers for this 14x13 Lebanon (obviously)

Overall I think the most important thing to remember about this episode: the theme is that some things are too good to be true.

I knew which episode it was, but I was surprised because I thought it has been in season 15, and then John didn’t show up for a while, so I thought I was wrong until the Pearl came up.

I gotta hand it to Jensen. When John appeared, there were so many emotions packed into Dean’s face in that first short scene, I had to rewatch it several times to get them. Part of it was simple shock, but I could also see… something a little like panic in his face, along with Waay too many emotions for me to name.

The conversation between Sam and John was… I started off mad and then focused more on Sam’s perspective and realized that… yeah, Sam isn’t the same person he was last time he saw his dad. And he didn’t get closure. He never got a chance to get real closure on it, and then here, he did, at least in some form.

Also, interesting thing I noticed- I could see the beginnings of how it could turn into another argument, and John said something that seemed a little accusatory, “you didn’t have a problem talking about it before you left,” and then Sam was like “nope, not gonna argue, not gonna do it, REDIRECTING-“ Which, after what Dean said in the scene before—

—Sam doesn’t want to mess this up for Dean. No way is he gonna start a fight, not now, not when they just got their dad back.

I don’t like the last line of Sam and John’s conversation: “But you did your best, dad. You – you fought for us, and you loved us, and… that’s enough.” Because honestly- it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t. And… dammit he could have done better. But then again, that’s Sam’s dad, and he’s been dead for over a decade, and sometimes people tend to put rose-colored glasses on over the past. So I’ll still happily condemn John’s parenting but I won’t condemn Sam just because he’s unable to see things for what they are in this case.

Now- my absolute favorite part of this entire episode is the section of Sam and Dean going to get groceries and noticing things are changed, and realizing “oh shit, what else is different?”

One, gotta love Dean for implying that Sam being a kale nut is a worse thing than Dean being considered a serial killer by society (which, it’s not like society is wrong??). Like, ah yes, wonderful priorities there, Dean. You’re a wanted killer with your face up in the town, but clearly Sam giving a lecture about the wonders of kale is a much worse thing. (If you can’t tell, I’m being incredibly sarcastic here)

And then here. Castiel’s appearance. I was screeching watching this. Completely freaking out- so much adrenaline. I bet if I’d taken my pulse it would have been skyrocketing-

This was followed by the scene of Castiel and Zachariah in the restaurant, which was Awesome, very clearly highlighting the difference that Dean and the Winchesters made in Cas’s life (later this will be relevant in the Confession - “You changed me, Dean”).

*cue me posting an unnecessary amount of screenshots*

Castiel unfurls his wings—

(Note the messy hair from flying around everywhere. Not the same as his old haircut, but they did what they could with Misha’s hair at the time)

Notice that Dean’s got the angel blade point down, and when he attacks Castiel, he’s using the blunt end to hit him, not the sharp end

(On the other hand, Sam uses the sharp end of the blade to swipe at Castiel. No judgement from me here, Sam sees this as “not our Cas” while Dean still sees this as “my Cas, I can talk him away from Heaven again.”)

Then, the most interesting thing here- when Cas pins Dean agains the wall, Dean’s not even trying to fight Cas here.

See how his hand settles on Castiel’s chest? Not really pressing, just touching. His other hand is gripping Castiel’s wrist, I imagine to try to remove enough pressure from his neck that he can speak. Trying to use his connection to Cas to get Castiel to stop hurting him. And it doesn’t work. Castiel stares him the eyes, not even a flicker of doubt or questioning.

You’ll note that I referred to alternate Castiel in this episode as exclusively “Castiel” and not “Cas.” Because it’s not Cas. Cas is the angel that saved Dean from Hell, and the angel that’s been by Dean’s side for 11 years (at this point in time). And this Castiel has not done that. So he is not Cas.

I’m reminded of the scene wayy back in season 5 where Cas beats Dean up in the alley for trying to give up and give in to Michael. There, Dean actually encouraged Cas to kill him, at the end, and Cas softens. Can’t exactly parse out the parallels there because my brain isn’t working, but there you go.

Now, probably my favorite conversation with John is this one, with Dean.

Right here. The way that Dean says “I have a family.”

It feels almost defiant. “I do have a family. I have Sam, Cas, Mom, Jack. My mother, my brother, my best friend… and I have a son, we all have a son. And beyond that, I’ve got Jody and Donna and Claire and the girls. I do have a family. Yeah, it doesn’t look like the apple pie life, the white picket fence, wife and kids, and yeah, our son is the child of Lucifer, and yeah, I’m in love with my best friend who’s an angel in a man’s body, and I wouldn’t trade him for any woman, and you’d hate that. But they’re my family. And I’m good with that.”

It’s proud, it’s a little defiant, it’s also a little bit of a reassurance, as we see from John’s smile afterward. I don’t think John caught the hint of a challenge in there.

I loved that moment. That might be my favorite line in the entire episode. “I have a family.”

I also like… Dean’s acceptance, “I’m good with who I am.” Part of that… I think it’s both a good thing and a sad thing and also a half lie at the same time. I think he’s good with who he is, in the sense that he’s accepted that he and Sam are the people that have to fill this role in the world, y’know, saving everyone. I think he loves the people he’s with, he loves his family and wouldn’t trade them for anything, not even having John back. No way would he ever trade Cas or Jack or Sam, or Mary, for anything else, ever.

It’s sad, though, because it’s like… he can’t imagine who he’d be if he had a different life. Yes, he’s had a few runs at an apple-pie life, but they weren’t happy, there was always something wrong nagging at him. He… I think he believes there’s no way for him to be happy, and that this is the best he could have.

I’m not even sure how to analyze the goodbye scene. I mean, the clearest thing here is just so much grief from everyone. They got a taste of their father back, and now he has to go back to being dead. There’s so many complicated feelings for both of the brothers, because of the complicated relationship with John, but in the end? They can’t help but love him, and they can’t help but feel grief at losing him. I won’t fault them for that.

In short, I wanna give Dean a gigantic hug and also give him therapy-

And then Cas coming back to the bunker when he did. I bet he sensed something and headed back to the bunker as fast as he could. Also, no clue what he experienced during the whole “Castiel and Zachariah are alive” thing. I imagine it’s possible there were two Cas’s running around for a bit? Because Mary didn’t get affected by the pearl. And Sam was there with his own memories, despite there being videos up of him doing things in the parallel universe. As for Cas, he’s part of Dean’s group of “people” so my guess is two Castiels running around for a little bit.

I like how Dean looks at Cas at the end. He’s relieved to have his angel back.

In summary-

The theme of this episode is “some things are too good to be true.” John came back, the four of them got their moment together, but John couldn’t stay. Things were good for that single afternoon, because everyone was just happy to see each other again, but it sent so much stuff into chaos that it couldn’t last, it had to be undone. And even then, if they’d tried to keep going with it, I know it would have degraded, the illusion of perfection would shatter, and they’d fall into old habits, old arguments and new ones.

And so it had to end.

#THIS IS NOT JOHN APOLOGISM #JOHN IS A TERRIBLE PARENT #HE MAY HAVE APOLOGIZED BUT THAT DOESN’T ABSOLVE HIM OF HIS ACTIONS #john winchester #spn 14x13 #spn Lebanon #dean winchester #sam winchester #mary winchester #castiel #jack kline #destiel #supernatural #Ender’s musings

[waywardnerd67]

Star Crossed: Shining Star

Summary: Between filming and conventions, Jensen Ackles hardly has a moment to himself. During a panel one weekend he learns that his favorite band’s lead singer is a fan of his. Encouraged by his best friend, Jensen steps out of his comfort zone and reaches out to her on social media. That one decision throws his entire world into a whirlwind adventure. Pairing: No Pairing Rating: E - Everyone Warnings: Fluff Word Count: 1595 A/N: None

Check out: Star Crossed Masterlist

Jensen Ackles walked into his apartment kicking off his shoes by the door. Thankful to be done filming for the week and looking forward to not having to travel too far for the convention this weekend. He loved meeting fans and performing on Saturday nights. There were some weeks where he wished he could relax in his apartment and not have to worry about traveling.

Deciding a night of Netflix and pizza was in order, Jensen took a quick shower then put on some sweats with a t-shirt. He had settled in with his pizza with The Witcher series pulled up to watch when his phone started buzzing.

“No Jared, I don’t want to come out.”

Laughter came ringing through the speaker, “Jackles, it’s only a few crew and myself chilling at our normal spot. Come out for a little while.”

“What part of no don’t you understand? The N or the O?” Jensen rubbed his forehead hearing everyone behind Jared chanting his name, “Buddy, I’m showered and in for the evening. I’ll make it up to y’all tomorrow night.”

“Fine old man, see you tomorrow.”

He groaned, ending the call and no longer interested in the show on Netflix. Turning off the tv, he walked over to his record player turning on the band he had been listening to on repeat. He discovered Wayward Stars a few years ago when a fan gifted him their cd. They were a hard rock, alternative metal band with lyrics that spoke to the soul. Also, the lead singer was drop dead gorgeous.

There had been late night shoots he would turn on one of their albums listening to (Y/N) (Y/L/N)’s voice letting it seep into the far reaches of his mind. As he sat in his apartment alone, he allowed his mind to wander of singing with her on stage one day. Making a mental note to talk with Creation and Rob Benedict about getting her to come to Vegas for SNS. For now, he let the music flow over him well into the night.

The next day, Jensen slept in until he heard Clif knocking on his door. Twenty minutes later, he was walking down to the lobby where Jared was sitting with his eyes closed.

“Hey Jared!” He yelled.

Jared jumped falling off the chair he was on. Jensen and Clif started laughing as he mumbled curses under his breath getting off the floor.

“Not funny and I will get you back.” Jared’s eyes narrowed on him.

“I’m sure you will, big guy. Now, can we get on with our day?”

They had a few interviews at the studio and some meetings before they had to get ready for the concert that night. Since the convention was in Vancouver and there was no traveling, Jensen had agreed to sing that night. He was excited to perform new songs and to be in front of the fans. As they pulled into the studio parking lot, he sighed knowing it was going to be a long day ahead of him.

It was near six o’clock when Jensen arrived back at his apartment to get ready for the night. Once again, he turned on his favorite Wayward Stars song, A Light in the Dark. It was a slower song with beautiful lyrics and then a killer riff in the end. He was in his room, singing when he heard his door open. Only two people had a key to his place and he only needed one guest to know who was walking in.

“Really? Wayward Stars again?” Jared flopped down on his couch.

“I can’t help it that you have horrible taste in music.” He chuckled.

“I like the band… just not 24/7 like you.”

He rolled his eyes, shutting off his record player, “Don’t judge me. Now come on and let’s go hang out with the fam.”

Saturday Night Special was exactly that, special. Especially when they were in Vancouver. The cast and crew seemed to cut loose a little more backstage. He was catching up with Matt Cohen when they called him to get ready to go on stage. Jared and Misha were standing by the stage to watch as Rob called him up on stage.

There was nothing more exhilarating than being hit with a roar of an audience. An electric current steady ran down his body over the next fifteen minutes as he performed. When he walked off stage, as promised, he celebrated with Jared, Misha and others until the early hours of morning.

Their early morning panel was rough as the coffee worked through knocking out the whiskey from his system. The last question of their morning panel came from a young lady wearing a Wayward Stars shirt.

“Love your shirt.” Jensen smiled.

“We get it Ackles, you’re their biggest fan.” Jared jokes.

The fan laughed, “Actually my question is about them. SPN family loves this band since they are fans of the show. Wondering if you ever had a chance to meet them or if they could be invited to a SNS show?”

“Go on fanboy…”

Jensen rolled his eyes, “I would love to meet them one day and have them come perform during Saturday Night Special. I’m forever thankful to the fan who gave me their cd a couple of years ago. Many, many a night their music has kept me sane during shooting. So yeah, definitely would love to meet them.”

“I would love for Jensen to meet them so I can film it and post it on social media for everyone to see him fanboy all over (Y/N).”

The crowd ohhh as Jensen glared at Jared, “Alright, alright… I think we have to get going now. We will see y’all later.”

Waving as they walked off the stage. As soon as they were on the stairs, Jensen punched his friend in the shoulder.

“Ow!”

“You deserve that.” Jensen could hear Jared laughing all the way to the green room.

The rest of the convention went without a hitch. Monday morning brought a whole new week of filming. Jensen was in his trailer when his phone buzzed seeing a text from Jared.

He pulled up his app, seeing a few friends tagging him in a post from a girl named Addy. Clicking on the YouTube link surprised to see (Y/N) watching him sing from SNS.

“I can’t help it. He’s gorgeous and talented and the perfect man.” She threw her arm over her eyes dramatically pretending to faint.

Text flashed on the screen, “#1 Jensen Ackles Fangirl”

He sat there stunned for a moment watching the video again. He could not wrap his mind around that she was a big fan of his. He knew the band liked the show, but to think he was perfect? His heart thumped against his chest as his shaking hands typed a message back to Jared.

Jensen took a few deep breaths before typing a Tweet then deleting it. He typed another one and deleted it. The third time he hit post and immediately regretted it, sounding like an idiot. Within minutes he received a notification from (Y/N) on Twitter.

Before he could reply, Jared was calling him, “Are you freaking out?”

“N-No… maybe, yes.” He stammered.

Jared’s laughter filled his ear, “Oh my god I wish I could see your face right now. This is your chance to make all your dreams come true.”

“I’m hanging up now, Jerk.”

“See you in an hour, Bitch.” Jared was still laughing as Jensen ended the call.

He watched the video a few more times and sent another Tweet out to (Y/N) after following her page. He went on all his social media making sure he was following her before realization hit that it seemed stalkerish.

“Jay, calm your roll.” He muttered to himself.

Putting his phone down, he tried to go over his lines for the next scene they were shooting. When he could not concentrate then he buckled, putting in his earbuds and turning on Wayward Stars. His hands were still trembling as he tried to control his fan moment.

Over the next several weeks, Jensen and (Y/N) were chatting all over social media. He posted a picture on Instagram tagging her in holding up her vinyl record.

Finally, he gathered the courage to ask for her number in a DM to chat with her more in private. Since their fans were going nuts over their new friendship. Now they would text each other everyday like they had known each other forever. She would tell him about her shows and cities she was in. He would chat about filming without spoiling anything for her. The only thing he wished could happen was their schedules to sync up so they could meet.

That thought ran through his mind everyday especially when he was at conventions like the upcoming weekend in his hometown. Thursday night, he was on a plane heading to Dallas when a notification popped up on his phone from (Y/N) posting on Twitter.

“Not next to me.” He mumbled snapping a picture of himself before replying to her Tweet.

He knew where she was off too after they had talked earlier in the day. They were still a thousand miles apart but closer than they had ever been since their friendship had begun. Settling back into his seat, he enjoyed listening to Wayward Stars newest song released that week.

If you enjoyed this story then check out my Masterlist!

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#waywardnerd67fics #star crossed series #jensen ackles fanfiction #jensen ackles fanfic #jensen ackles #reader insert #rpf #fluff

[ozymandiasdirge]

its been four hours and im still obsessed with the “oh kiddo, save yourself” in the big empty. cas in the beginning of season 13 has had just trauma after trauma after derailing experience of trying to do the right thing and failing. not even by his own fault just people continuing to abuse his trust and faith for their own ends. EVEN dean like, yes /we/ know dean loves him but dean at this point just is not capable of telling cas that in a way that cas understands. 

so after 8 straight seasons of failure and torture and brainwashing and gutting loneliness and multiple deaths, here cas is....dead again. and he’s meeting the personification of absence. and the empty conceptually is really fucked up, because it’s older than god, but it’s where god designated to angels to go when they die. to the same place as demons, which are said in season 5 to be lucifer’s children that he only uses as tools, to be discarded when they stop proving useful. and even though the angels were god’s first real attempt at children to succeed, beings he created to be capable of nothing but blind obedience, an obedience almost all of them hold to for billions of years, they still get sent to a yawning void when they die, sleeping for eternity with nothing to do but contemplate.

so for his entire run on the show cas gets hit with the “there is no point to be alive if you’re not useful, you are unlovable if you aren’t molding your body and your sense of self into a tool for others to strike with”, from god (intentionally) and the winchesters (unintentionally most of the time, but dean repeats this enough times when he’s feeling callous that it sticks whether he actually feels that way or not) and now he’s face to face with the personification of those feelings. and when he tells it he has to get out, that sam and dean need him (not want him, need him) it tells him 

oh save it. i know who you love...what you fear. there is nothing for you back there. wouldn’t you rather be a fond memory than a constant festering disappointment. kiddo, save yourself. 

the fact that the empty can even say this because they read cas’s mind, the pain is real but unending. like.....so few people have ever in earnest to watch out for himself, and the fact that one of them is the personification of cas’s suicidal lack of any kind of self-preservation, who tells him he’s worthless in the same breath is straight up making me insane. 

but what does cas do? obviously he doesn’t do what he was told, he keeps fighting he annoys the oldest known cosmic entity into letting him out. but because he knows he’s needed, not because he thinks he’s wanted. which is why the fact that the show ends without dean explicitly telling cas that he’s wanted, of course dean wants him there is.....so infuriating.

but it is a balm that when cas comes back....and jack is there. that cas feels unconditional love directed at him for the first time in his life. jack loves him, jack brought him back from nothing not because he’s useful or an angel, but because jack felt how kind he was, how much love he had in his heart. i just realized that supernatural feels like catholic propaganda of only being able to find love and self actualization through child rearing, but in a gay way, so truly still no one else is doing it like them

#spn #the unhinged cas girl energy is resonating #cas has so much pain and he focused it into #being this show's best example of a father.....unparalleled

[paralleledmediaexperience]

a part 2 to this ficlet as requested by @xanthomonus in the notes! I’ve got at least one more part conceptualized (no way you can guess what’ll happen there) though i may extend it or add more, so if anyone would like to be tagged let me know!! 

- 

 Sam is insistent that they try to research ways to get Cas back. Jack has explained that Amara won’t fail- it is simply the process of extracting an Angel from the Empty that takes time, since she didn’t want to wake or anger it like… well, like what Jack had done. He could feel Amara’s sincerity in a way that he was certain Sam and Dean wouldn’t understand, let alone be comforted by. She’d been in his head, crossed with his soul in the transfer of power. He’s kind of sure that if he hadn’t missed Cas so much too, she probably would have ignored Dean’s request altogether.

But it makes Sam look less frazzled when he’s able to lose himself in the research for something, and Jack doesn’t mind sitting with him and pretending he’s not hiding chapter books behind the large tomes. He’s been working his way steadily through some books Sam had collected for him last time they had been out shopping, and while he had enjoyed the first one (a mystery about siblings called the Boxcar children even though they no longer lived in a boxcar) he’d chosen Matilda next, because she sounded nice. And he was right! Matilda was his new favorite, even more than his last favorite, which had been Where the Wild Things Are.

He doesn’t even notice when Dean walks in, because Matilda had just glued a hat to her father’s head, but he does when Sam says, “What, none for me?”

“You’re a grown man, Sammy, you can make your own food. He’s four years old with a foot injury.” Dean says, scowling at Sam. The effect is rather ruined by both Dean’s flour dusted apron and the plate in his hands, and Jack smiles when he turns back to him instead. “You both missed lunch.”

Sam grumbles, but gets up anyway, stretching. “If you didn’t make me food how could I have missed it?”

“Shut up,” Dean shoots back half-heartedly. “Here, Jack, and don’t let him steal off your plate just because he got distracted reading.”

“Thanks, Dean!” Jack says brightly, moving his secret reading setup to the table instead of his lap and pushing it away, ignoring the way Sam’s eyebrows raise when he notices his no longer hidden book. Dean sets the plate down and ignores that Sam sends him one last annoyed face before heading off to the kitchen, where Jack knows there is going to be a plate ready for Sam, or at least a serving of the macaroni and cheese sprinkled with bacon bits and breadcrumbs that Dean’s brought him. “Are you making something else?”

“Just some bread,” Dean grimaces down at the mess of flour across his front, and Jack has to contain his giggles when the movement reveals a streak of flour in Dean’s hair. 

“Just some bread,” Sam echoes, swinging back through the door with his own plate of macaroni. “Dean. Do I need to remind you that we need vegetables and can’t live off of carbs and meat alone?”

“It’s macaroni, Sam, quit whining and just enjoy it,” Dean rolls his eyes. “I swear, you’re the pickiest-”

“It’s not being picky, it’s eating healthy-”

“Same difference!” Dean insists, his twitching lips betraying the irritation in his voice.

“Just one meal with something green a day, Dean, I’m begging you.” 

Eyes flicking back and forth as they snipe at each other, Jack takes an appreciative bite of the macaroni. Expectedly delicious, because Dean made it and Dean didn't make bad food the way Sam sometimes did. Mostly.

“Then beg,” Dean proclaims stubbornly, eyes narrowed. Sam doesn’t respond, his own expression pinching up into very familiar exasperation. 

“Actually, I’ve never had brussel sprouts before, and Claire said I should try them!” Jack interjects. He isn’t sure what a brussel sprout is beyond a vegetable, but Claire had said he’d like them and that he should bother Dean into making them. 

Dean looks unimpressed though, gaze switching from Sam back to meet Jack’s eyes. “You want me to make you brussel sprouts?”

“Please?” Jack tries, unsure if Dean thinks there is something wrong with brussel sprouts or if he is still simply offended by the concept of vegetables.

The please works, Dean’s capitulation coming in the form of a displeased huff and an, “Alright, fine.” He swings back around to point at Sam accusingly. “I’m blaming you for this.”

“As long as we get something from each of the five food groups, sure,” Sam says, taking his seat again. “And no, you don’t get to use tomatoes as the catch all.”

“Fine,” Dean bites out again, clapping Jack on the shoulder as he starts to turn away.

“Thank you Dean! Love you!” Jack says, and he hears Sam’s quick inhale just as he sees Dean almost stumble and he smiles to himself.

“Love you too, kid,” Dean manages to get out, hand squeezing just a bit tighter on his shoulder. “Alright, go back to your books, I have to go to the store for brussel sprouts apparently.”

The speed at which Dean walks away couldn’t be called running away but Jack definitely thinks it qualifies as retreating, and he straightens up a bit, very proud of himself for receiving his second ‘love you’ from Dean in twice as many days. He watches Dean get out the door before turning back around in his seat.

Sam is staring at him with a blinking mixture of incredulity and open affection, the smile on his face wide, if confused. “That’s… new?” 

“Yep,” Jack confirms, pulling Matilda back towards himself and abandoning the pretense of reading the book Sam had suggested he search through. Sam had already searched it himself twice. He doesn’t manage to open it, because Sam continues.

“And I don’t need to check that it’s actually Dean?” Sam teases, bewilderment clear and pride clearer. “Saying yes to vegetables AND and I love you?”

“It turns out,” A voice whipcracks out, startling them both, “That Dean Winchester is actually a big old softie at heart. Who knew?”

“Balthazar?” Sam says, and Jack almost gets bowled over by the wave of shock. Balthazar? He knew that name. He stares openly, unheeded as Balthazar talks to Sam.

“Well, except Castiel, of course, but that Profound Bond of theirs hardly makes it fair,” The angel says, stepping forward. “Yes, Sam, I’ve been hand delivered back from the dead, at the temporary cost of my Grace. Don’t look at me like that.”

“Your grace?” Jack asks, curious about how Sam had been looking at him, but unwilling to turn around and take his eyes off of the angel Cas had once killed. “What do you mean?”

“Ah,” Balthazar strides over, and before Jack can say anything he’s got him clasped by both shoulders, staring into his eyes with a curiosity so intense Jack almost steps back towards the table. “And you’re Jack, I assume? I was warned that there would be no murdering of nephilim if I returned.”

“So Amara freed you?” Sam cuts in, and Jack huffs out a small breath as Balthazar lets him go to spin back around and face him. “Did she have a reason?”

Jack doesn’t voice his own question, which feels far more important. He wants to know when Cas will be back.

“Uh, yes?” Balthazar sneers. “Most of the angels are dead, Sam, no thanks to you and your brother and my brother. I’ll admit some of us deserved it- were rather asking for it, if you ask me- but it did leave dear aunty with rather less personnel than she wants to run heaven with.”

“She’s not grabbing all the angels, is she?” Jack breathes, terrified suddenly, despite Balthazar’s assurance that Amara had apparently set him off limits. 

“Not a chance. Seemed to have a list in mind, and I think I was simply the first she found. I thought perhaps…” He trails off, just for a split second before he grins again, bright and covering up anything he might have been about to show. “Well, I didn’t, actually. Rather hard to do when you’re sleeping in eternal torment.”

Jack catches Sam’s flinch, and frowns at the other man. “Are you sure you were the first?”

Balthazar ticks his head to one side, considering. “Well, I’m the first to show up here, I’ll assume by your reactions, and given that she’s bringing us back graceless, I imagine any others will also be sent here.”

Jack scowls. If so, then Cas may be further off than he hoped. But this was- conclusive proof. Amara could do it, and now they would just have to deal with powerless angels until she came back and dealt with them herself. And Cas would be home.

Sam sighs, deep and weary and cheerless. “Yeah. That would make sense. Well, we can put this away, then.” He closes the book on the table with a hefty thump and then stacks Jack’s abandoned tome on top of it. “And I suppose we should try to make sure we have rooms ready. Jack, would you-”

“I’ll call Dean and let him know,” Jack says, suddenly tired and wanting to get away from Balthazar, still staring at him hawkishly, wanting to be away from the library, where more angels could show up without warning. He wants to hide in his room or possibly Cas’ until Amara brings him back and takes all the others back to heaven or whatever she planned to do. He wishes viciously in his head that he hadn’t opened his mouth about brussel sprouts and that Dean was still here in the kitchen where Jack could escape to without feeling alone. As it is, he grabs Matilda and his plate, still half full of macaroni, ready to walk away, but he catches Balthazar’s face again.

“You’re hungry,” Jack realizes as he says it. Balthazar has a facial journey of his own to deal with that fact before he grimaces.

“Human,” he says, displeasure and embarrassment warring on his features, even as his stomach growls.

Jack doesn’t want Balthazar here, he doesn’t want Amara to try to find anyone but Cas, or at least to find Cas first, and he most definitely doesn’t want to share his food that Dean made him, or Dean and Sam’s attention in general, and he swallows all of this down and he says, “Here. If you’ve never been human before, you’ve never really tasted food, right? Dean’s always makes the best food.”

He holds out the plate and drops it into Balthazar’s hands and tries his best not to stomp out like a real child, or run out like he’s scared, but he makes it around the corner and leans against the wall, out of sight.

Except that Sam immediately pokes his head around, following him. “Jack?”

“I don’t like this,” Jack says plainly, staring up at Sam like maybe he could explain why all of the good feelings he’d been having had shriveled up in his stomach and refused to leave, even though Sam clearly didn’t think Balthazar was an actual threat to them.

“I could tell,” Sam says, almost teasing again, but he drops it immediately. “Is it okay, Jack? Because we can absolutely just send him and any others that show up to the nearest motel instead.”

“No,” He says immediately, but he pauses after, thinking. He takes a deep breath in, trying to ease the odd tightness inside his chest.  “No. They can stay here until Amara gets back. I just…” 

“Don’t like it,” Sam nods, as if that explains it, and Jack guesses it does. “Well, Dean won’t like it either, so you can let him know that the two of you are free to hole up wherever you’d like to get away from them, and I’ll try to deal with them myself as much as I can.”

The tightness in his chest does soften, another breath rushing out like he’d been holding it. “Thanks, Sam.” 

“You know I love you too, Jack,” Sam says, earnest and open and Jack barely makes the decision to hug him but he ends up wrapped up in Sam’s arms anyhow.

“I do. I know. Love you, Sam,” Jack says, fixing his grip on Matilda as he pulls away. “Okay, I need to go call Dean, because if he leaves the store before-”

“He won’t want to turn around, yeah,” Sam laughs.

Jack can’t help the smile that bursts across his face. “Well, I can’t use it too often, or it might not work anymore, but maybe if I say please.”

#Jack Kline #Sam Winchester #Dean Winchester #Balthazar #supernatural #my fic #creativecaviar #me remembering that time i tricked my cousin into eating brussel sprouts. ehehehehe. #also!!! what the FUCK balthazar's voice is very difficult but also very fun and rewarding to write so PLEASE tell me whether it reads okay #my in my head: ive seen four year olds become territorial when their parents have visitors this is gonna be SO funny #anyway Jack IS going to get I love you's from all his dads thank you much. we just gotta wait for Cas. #this isn't going on ao3 until i have a good name for it so if you like reading better there suggest a fic name this time so it can go up

[elleclairez]

Cassian x reader - Cas is your mate, but he doesn’t know it yet

I finally wrote it! I am so sorry for the wait and thank you so much for your patience. The last month and a half were a bit crazy and I didn’t have much inspiration. I hope you like it! 

Request: Can I request for cassian where the reader knows he’s her mate but cass doesn’t and he goes around flirting with nesta, hurting his mate without knowing and azriel notices that she’s hurting and comforts her, until cassian realizes and makes it up? 💙

The night was quiet. Not a dead quiet but a peaceful one. Which clearly was a nice change after all the horrors that we've been through. The war is over and yet you couldn't feel happy. At least not completely. Yes, you were happy that your friends, no, family, was safe. Happy that the bloodshed and the pain are over. But no matter how much you tried to fight it, the sadness in your heart wouldn't leave.  

You couldn't bear it. Couldn't bear to see your mate flirting and following Nesta like a lost puppy.  Especially tonight.

The Inner Court decided to throw a party to celebrate the end of the war. Everyone wanted to at least for a night forget about the nightmares of the past. You, yourself, wanted to have fun, get drunk with your cousins Mor and Rhys, maybe even annoy Amren to tease her. But all of those plans went down hills the moment you saw Cassian practically beg Nesta to dance with him.

You couldn't bear it, not tonight.

Which is why you found yourself on the huge balcony of the Wind House, staring at the beautiful city of Velaris that you've called home for more than a few centuries now. No matter how sad you were, you couldn't deny the beauty of the city you grew up in.

You considered yourself lucky, you, unlike your friends, grew up in a loving family. Your father, brother of the late High Lord, was very much unlike his family, he was like his sister-in-law (Rhys's mother), a dreamer. Which led him to fall a similar soul, a woman from the Autumn Court. They both fell in love, found out that they were mates, flew to Velaris and had you. They knew the price for their happiness, not everyone understood their way of thinking, and unfortunately, your father paid the price, he gave his life protecting yours and your mother's. You loved her dearly, but since his death, your relationship wasn't what it used to be but you were always by each other's side. And while you chose to live a life full of adventures with the Inner Circle, she chose to live a peaceful life in the Summer Court, something that you respected and even agreed to. She went through way too much and deserved some peace. But no matter how much time has passed you always remembered how in love your parents were and you always dreamed to have that one day. But unfortunately, fate had other plans and while the love of your life, your mate, was clearly having fun with the woman that he adored, you, on the other hand, were silently trying to stop yourself from crying.

The Mother did have a strange sense of humour, you thought. You were in love with a man who was in love with a woman who was in love with... Books maybe?

Your sad thoughts were interrupted by the presence of a not so sneaky shadowsinger. No matter how hard the Illyrian male tried to sneak up on you, he never could.

"I thought sulking in the shadows was my job." Started Azriel. You and Az were always the closest, actually, you already called each other "Platonic soulmates" (even though you were very drunk when it happened). Some people even thought that you were mates, but those rumors were shut down immediately. As was also the only one who knew about your mate's identity, and even though he told thousands of times to admit to Cas everything he still respected your decision and stayed by your side every time you weren't feeling good.

"Sorry, but tonight I'm stealing it." AZ chuckled at your response, but quickly stopped when he saw your longing stare. A stare that was clearly looking at Cassian and Nesta bickering and everyone was laughing at them... Actually, two persons weren't...

"Rhys and Feyre know." Az said as if reading your mind. "Rhys already had doubts, but they were confirmed when the Suriel decided to show up during one of their getaways and tell them everything." Explained Az while trying to decipher your face.

"What a gossiper. Remind me to beat his ass if I see him one day." You weren't sure if shock was good enough to describe how you felt right now. If Rhys suspected then it could mean that anyone else could and you certainly weren't ready for Cas to know about all of this.

"Very well." A comforting silence fell and you stayed like that for a few minutes until Az decided to break it. "I am the last person that you should listen when it comes to love, but I think you should tell him. But then again, it is up to you, I'll be there for you no matter what." He said with a smile and surprisingly hugged you, something quite unusual for Az.

"Thank you Az. I'll think about it." You answered truthfully while hugging back your best friend.

Little did you know that back inside the house, a not so drunk Cas watched you two angrily, Nesta long forgotten. For a few minutes Cassian couldn't quite understand where that anger came from until suddenly, it clicked, you were his mate. And at that moment the Illyrian male couldn't be happier, secretly he always hoped that you two could be mates, but centuries passed and nothing, so he decided to try to move on and keep you out of his mind by distracting himself with other women.

But with happiness came anger. Seeing you in the arms of another man, even his brother (best friend technically, but more like a brother),  made him furious. He knew he had no right to be jealous, especially since he himself was running after Nesta like a puppy, but he couldn't help himself.

A few hours late, you found yourself back in your flat, makeup off, comfy clothes on, a nice book in your hands. Everything felt peaceful and then someone knocked at your door.

You swear if it's a drunk Mor, you will murder her.

Much to your surprise when you opened the door you didn't see a wasted Mor but a very sober Cassian. You couldn't understand what was he doing here and you didn't even try to hide your shock.

Seeing your expression Cas quickly started talking before he could start getting scared of you rejecting him and him being left broken-hearted.

"You are my mate."

You were too shocked to even comprehend what he was saying. You couldn't form words, your brain was literally exploding. Taking all your willpower in your hands in put on a serious face and said.

"I see that Nesta rejected you again. Didn't know that you would get that drunk because of it that you'd start imagining things." You didn't want him to know. Yes, you wanted to be with him, more than anything in the world, but not if another woman was in his heart at the same time.

"What?! No! I am not drunk and no she didn't reject me! I mean, yes she did but it doesn't matter because we're mates!" And before you could object Cassian put his hands on your cheeks so that you would at each other right in the eyes, he was so close that you feel his breathing on your face. It was silent for a few seconds and then Cas took a deep breath and whispered. "Y/N I have loved since the moment I met you. The moment I saw you, walking side by side with Rhys I knew that one day you would mine and I would be yours. Never could I ever imagine that you would love me, let alone be my mate, so I decided to move on, keep you out of my head but it never worked.  No matter who I spent time with, deep i my heart, I would always think of you and tonight seeing you in Az's arms, when the bond clicked I told myself that I will stop being an idiot and that I will finally win you over. And that one day I could call you mine, my mate and you could do just the same. Y/N I am yours like it or not and I hope that one day you will let me call you mine." By the end of his speech both of you had tears running down your cheeks and the only thing that you could think about was how much you loved the man.

A few minutes has passed with him still holding your face and you his arms. Complete silence surrounded you with only your heart beats as sounds.

Then at one moment a wide smile grew on your face and you uttered.

"You are so lucky that I am the only good cook in the Inner Circle. I was thinking of cooking something right now, what do you think?"

At your words Cassian smiled like he never did before and took you in his arms causing him to lit you in the air and the finally kissing you.

The two of you couldn't happier. You have finally found each other. You were finally together and no one to get in between the two of you.

The next morning the whole Velaris could hear Mor's angry shouts at how was she not aware that her friend and cousin were actually mates. Those shouts were then soon followed by Rhys's laugh who quickly became silent when his cousin sent a shoe at his face for keeping that information to himself and his mate. It's a good thing that she doesn't know that Az was the first who knew.

#cassian x reader #acotar cassian x reader #acotar x reader #acotar #imagine #x reader #feyre archeron #rhysand #azriel #morrigan #amren #acomaf #acofar #cassian

[dcforts]

[week 4: selfie together]

1.7k, post-canon, non canon compliant.

Three days to impact (moving out with Cas and a bunch of hunter nerds settling into the bunker to set up the Network), and Dean was still elbow deep in messy drawers, sorting through his stuff in one of the research rooms. He couldn’t believe he had managed to hoard that much crap when he spent there not more than six months every year.

Sam had already taken care of most of it and thrown away a lot of junk when he had moved away with Eileen a year or so ago, so Dean had thought that he would be packed in less than a day with what was left. He was wrong.

He was tackling a bunch of phones and chargers all tangled up together, trying to figure out which ones were still working. Between him and Sam they had probably gone through a hundred or so phones, without counting the burners, their dad’s and those of other hunters, passed on after their deaths.

You had to keep them on, check the messages, write down the contacts – for a long time it was the only way to keep the network going and to make sure that no call for help would ever go unanswered.

Hopefully the Network, with Charlie fancy digital system and stolen tech from the Brits, would make things a lot easier. The bunker would become the hunter HQ that it was always meant to be. And Sam and Dean would still go there from time to time, but it would become more like a workplace than an actual home.

Magazines apparently said you had to keep them separated and all that. So, they were trying.

He wasn’t even halfway done when he found his old phone. It was not too ancient or anything and he used to like it just fine, but for Christmas Claire and the girls had gotten him a new one (“not for work!!” said the note attached to it) so he had just dumped it in here.

It had no SIM card, but there were some police contacts (useful) and the Candy Crush app (not useful). He went on to check the gallery and was surprised to find still some pictures in it.

He snorted, seeing one of the last taken – Sam, drunk on Christmas Day, a paper crown askew on his head, trying to focus enough to play Jenga with someone who was out of the shot. Dean didn’t remember who it was anymore. Sam had the most incredible face on.

Oh, there were pictures from when they went to visit Garth! He had taken them at Frontier Stables in Frederic and Dean and Gertie had possibly been equally excited about riding a horse. There were a bunch of pictures of that day, including one Garth had taken of him where he looked like an absolute dork.

Wow, they must have been at least a year or so older, he had totally forgotten about them. Now, he couldn’t just put the phone down and resume his work. He debated with himself (very briefly) if he could afford a break or not and then flopped down on the floor covered in cardboard boxes to look through the rest of the gallery.

Most of the pictures were cases related, articles and crime scenes, then a bunch of landscapes, an amazing looking burger from that joint in Texas.

There was one with Cas that he had taken one night. Dean’s face was on the foreground, on the left, and he was making a funny face, his index finger to his lips. The red couch was visible behind his shoulders and Cas was by his side, his face turned towards the television screen and lighted by it.

They had been cooped up in Dean’s cave for nearly four hours and all that time Sam was freaking out because he didn’t know where they were and he couldn’t find them. When Dean had checked his phone, he had found fourteen missed calls and a bunch of texts. He had sent him that picture back and written shh it's movie night.

Sam had come bursting through the door two seconds later and bitched at him for fifteen minutes for having his phone on silent and then stayed and watched Back to the Future III with them.

This was before he and Cas even got together – well, officially at least.

It felt like so long ago, back when they were all: fingers brushing, intense gazing, losing track of time when alone together. They were so clueless.

It had sorted itself out though. A couple of weeks after that, Dean had fallen asleep on Cas’ shoulder and Cas had spent the rest of the night holding him and he had done that every night since.

Dean smiled and scrolled down, back in time.

More photos on the road, book pages, his car against a pretty sunset. Then a group selfie that they sent to Jody for her birthday. Sam and Eileen were still living at the bunker then and Sam was holding the phone, on account of having three feet long arms. They were standing in the kitchen, Eileen right next to him, under his other arm and Dean next to Eileen.

Cas had appeared on the door as they were getting in position so Sam he had told him to hurry up, get in the frame and he had come to stand next to Dean, stiff like a statue. Sam had said, a little closer, so Dean had slung an arm around his neck and pulled him towards him.

Right when Sam had been about to snap it, Cas had grabbed Dean’s hand, that was dangling over his shoulder. So of course, in the picture Dean looked like a total idiot, with his eyes wide and his lips slightly parted in surprise. He had even stopped breathing a little and Cas next to him had the audacity to look totally oblivious. Dean zoomed in on his face and cackled at himself. God, and what was up with that haircut he had, did he even look at himself in the mirror.

He went on.

A few rows below there was another selfie. It was just him this time and it was terrible, the sunlight making the picture look all wrong, like there was a filter on it. It was a vertical shot that showed just about his face and shoulders.

It had been early in the morning, he was bleary-eyed and there was a little wrinkle in between his eyebrows because he had been in the car waiting for Sam to come back with their coffee for twenty minutes.

Cas had texted him out of the blue, Can you send me a picture of you? and Dean had snapped it and sent it without thinking and then he had written, what do you need it for and Cas had written back, I just miss you. Dean had almost dropped his phone, then put it away and not looked at it until late that night. Yeah, it hadn’t been one of his best moments.

Finally he had managed to pull out the conversation again. He had typed and deleted miss you too and same and same, man about a thousand times and then ended up writing your turn now.

He remembered that Cas had been quick to reply with an even worse shot than the one he had sent. Some blurry picture he had taken under a streetlight, his face wearing an intense expression, as if he needed to focus to tap once on a screen. Still, Dean had looked at it for an hour before he had gone to sleep. What a sap.

Thinking of that photo reminded him of another one. He wondered if? It took a while to find it, but it was there, almost at the end of the gallery, right after a picture of Jody in a ridiculous sun hat from when they all went to the beach for the weekend.

It was there. Their first selfie together. He snorted out loud.

He had been pacing in the map room, cursing at his phone that was stuck with the camera open. He was trying everything and it just wouldn’t close.

Cas had come look over his shoulder while Dean had been furiously tapping, and that was when the screen had frozen and flashed and the result of that was a picture of the two of them from the most unflattering angle, frowning down at the phone. Two half faces, Dean on the right, Cas on the left. Dean thought it was hilarious.

Cas had said, “I think you took a picture,” because he was a great help as usual and Dean had said, “Yeah, no shit Cas,” and eventually had to restart the phone to make it work again.

He couldn’t believe that had happened more than two years ago.

“I’m done with the inventory of the herbs. Are you done in here?” said Cas, poking his head in from the hallway. Dean very obviously wasn’t done, but he was still smiling, so Cas said, “What is it?” and came to crouch beside him to peer at his phone and the infamous selfie, “Why did we take this?”

Dean laughed, “We didn’t. My phone was acting up.”

"And you kept it?"

"Yeah, of course I kept it," Dean said, tilting his phone away, as if Cas would jump him to delete it.

Cas had other priorities. He kissed his temple.

"Okay," he said amused, then, "Do you need help? Charlie is coming over in an hour to set up the - cables."

There were no cables. Cas clearly didn’t know what he was talking about, but Dean had no idea of what Charlie was supposed to do either, so.

"No, just - wait, let's take a picture," he said, grabbing his sleeve before he could get up. Cas settled once again next to him and Dean opened the camera and held his phone up, then got his other arm around Cas’ shoulders.

The light was not great, like anywhere else in the bunker and they looked exhausted after a day's work but still, not a bad sight, if Dean could say so himself.

He focused on Cas on the screen, the little smile on his lips.

He grinned. He was gonna spend the rest of his life with that face, he thought. Jesus.

"Dean?" Cas called, after another moment of nothing.

"Alright, alright," he said and snapped the picture.

@bend-me-shape-me said #deancassummerprompts21 and I said YES

#deancassummerprompts21 #deancas #deancas ficlet #fwf #as in finale? what finale? #i couldnt decide on what idea to focus on so i kept them all #incredibly on time for once #i just didn't want to edit it too much cause i like it???? #yeah i know weird #it was fun #my writing

[keltonwrites]

I bought a house in the middle of nowhere

“Yeah, I loved it, but she’d never move there.” It was something akin to that, at least. He didn’t mean any mischief, no deceit or planning. It was an honest take on what, at the time, was true. I saw the road into town on Google Maps, noted that it was closed during the winter, acknowledged the reality that a person can own a snowmobile, and I said, “we are not moving there.” But, all good truths are just dares in the making.

And here I am, living in the “there” I said I would not. Two years ago, I left my job at Headspace for a life reset. It was pre-pandemic, and Ben and I were planning a big road trip. Our perfect paradise in Topanga, CA, had crystallized itself as many people’s perfect paradise, and those “many people” all had more money than us. Our options to buy a home were nil, and home-buying was essentially all we wanted. Ben’s a builder and I’m a world builder, and we wanted somewhere to invest that didn’t belong to someone else. We packed the car with the tent and the bikes and the dog and all the things that come with tents and bikes and dogs, and off we went on our own Tour de l’Ouest, looking for a place to call home. We knew what we wanted, knew our odds of finding it, and hit the road anyway. Here was the dream list — concocted by two pie-in-the-sky dummies who married each other:

Not rainy or consistently windy

Notable access to the arts

Remote and challenging to get to/close neighbors

Wild West influenced architecture

Progressive community

Exceptional trail access out the front door

High-speed internet

In our budget

And my personal favorite: had to “feel right” Good luck to us with a list like that, but thus began our hunt. We camped in the snow, tried every dirty chai in the Rockies, and explored every town we could. Whatever a good time it was, it felt useless. Every town Ben was OK with, I hated. Every town I was OK with, Ben despised. And the few places we both loved required money we just didn’t have. We came home with our sails down, limping into the harbor of our rental. But as is the way with romantics, our dreams began to slowly eclipse our reality. Books fell victim to Zillow and Trulia. TV was replaced by the MLS. All writing time was dedicated to Realtor.com. Hours were spent pouring over maps, county records, and updating spreadsheets that tracked price per square foot compared to beds and baths. Over time, all that internetting led to one singular town of 180 people at 10,000 feet in the San Juan Mountains of Colorado with a road that said “Closed Winters” on Google Maps. Look, I don’t know what happened. Ben found this town on a map, I said don’t be ridiculous, and after a year or so of him telling people I'd never move here, here I am, being ridiculous. Was it reverse psychology? Maybe. Was it the charming “town plan” that mandated all houses be rustic cabins and forbade AirBnB? Could be. Was it the fact that when I looked at Strava’s Heatmap, it showed what seemed like thousands of miles of trails just out the front door? I mean, yes. All these things played a part, but all I know for certain is that one day I woke up and said, “we’re going to move there.” Ben doubted this conviction (and the realities behind it) thus cementing it into place in my head. In a town of 180 people there’s only ~60 houses, which means maybe 2 or 3 get listed per year — but my spreadsheet had the proof: we hadn’t missed our chance yet in this tiny town. The data showed a strong likelihood there would be at least two houses listed within the calendar year. This, however, was also our last chance. The spreadsheet also showed that if we didn’t find a house this year, we wouldn’t be able to afford one the next. We called a realtor, made our case, and harangued her until she believed us that we were truly the kind of yahoos who would move to an avalanche field and stay there. And then it happened. A pocket listing. It was a darling home built in 1890. It had the beds, the baths, and the views. We were the first and only to know. We put in an offer, they agreed, and we would come to see the house in a few weeks. But in those few weeks, the circumstances changed. The sellers lost their own sweet deal, and they couldn’t sell yet. Their agent promised we had right of first refusal, it was only a matter of time. Ben lamented, I preached patience, and we went to see the house that was no longer for sale anyway.

It was a quiet winter morning in Covid when we drove across the packed snow to meet our realtor outside the house. The sun was out and the 13 degrees Fahrenheit felt warm. I unzipped my jacket, mask on my face. I took long videos and talked about where I would set up my office and where we’d put the bikes. As we closed up and I settled into a future where this house would eventually be mine, our realtor told us there were comps in the area — other residents quietly interested in potentially closing out. Would we like to see them? Sure, let’s.

One home came with an incredible commercial kitchen. The whole house was a whopping 3500 sq ft if my memory serves me correct, which falls under the category of “houses too big to find your cat in."

Another home had an open-air-to-the-kitchen bathroom.

The third was dark and overpriced with cracked windows and open beer cans scattered about.

And then, plans changed.  “Hey guys, there’s actually one more house we can see.” The last house we saw was a log cabin, nestled in the hillside by itself, with massive A-frame windows looking out onto the peaks beyond. Inside was a labyrinth of a life lived long and large. The cabin was built and loved by a man we’ll call Jack. Jack was 82, and as we walked toward the front door on that sunny winter morning, he exited with two beers in his pockets, headed to the mountain to ski. Jack was an attorney — in his life he’d been both criminal and defender — and from the stories, somewhat interchangeably. There were artifacts from running in the same scenes as Hunter S. Thompson and Willie Nelson; there were stuffed birds, bad books, sheet-covered couches, smoked spliffs, and piles and piles of mouse shit. Every inch of the house was lived in, and not just by people. You think millennials like plants? No. This man likes plants. The biggest monstera deliciosa I’ve ever seen, spanning some 10 feet wide and 15 feet tall. Draping cactuses, spider plants, massive aloes, and an ambitious hoya carnosa clawing its way to the top of the massive fireplace. But there were problems. I’m trying to be diplomatic saying the house was lived in. The wood by the door handles was dyed black from years of hand grease rubbing against it. The carpet in the upstairs was soiled almost everywhere with bat scat. Newspaper was stuffed between the massive logs to keep the wind out. There was cardboard taped over almost every window, blankets nailed over the others. Half the doors wouldn’t open. It was unnerving to touch the crusted light switches. It was early enough in the season of Covid-fear that touching anything felt like gambling. On our way back to our rental in the bigger neighboring town, we shared our awe and our no-ways, lamenting how long we’d have to wait for the little 1890s fixer upper. That night, I sent the video I took of the cabin to my parents. “Can you believe this?” I asked. And do you know what my dad said? “Great log construction.” After that, the cabin was all we could talk about. “Could you believe those plants?” “Did you see how big those logs were?” “I just googled Jack, look at this.” “Do you know what the insulating factor of logs is?” “How much did he say he was asking?” It came down to the plants. Amidst all the chaos in that house, the tender care of those decades-old plants sung the clearest. This wasn’t just a place Jack lived in, it was a place that wanted to be lived in. We made an offer the next day.

Jack had six months to clear out his 30 odd years of collecting, and the town had six months to speculate about the worrisome Californians moving to their high-altitude, high-risk town. The town itself is an old mining town. It rests in a high valley, surrounded by peaks over 13,000ft, and is over six hours from the nearest major airport. Five people died around this town in avalanches this past year. The dirt road into town is littered with avalanche fields, warning visitors to not stop when driving in. The other way out is a pass road, only drivable in the warm months, but you could skin out if it was dire. Most August days, the high is in the mid-60s. The valley is blanketed in wildflowers, and the aspens littering the mountainsides suggest a promising fall display. The town had a heyday, a low day, and now it’s a community of preppers, adventurers, appreciators, and “get all these idiots away from me”ers. We don’t know these people yet, but the ones we’ve met have the same like to live hard attitude we do. Heli-ski guides, ex-CIA agents, woodworkers, bakers, teachers, just a general can-do group of people. The kind of people that see a California license plate and peer with skepticism between the thin gap over their sunglasses and under their caps.

You might say I’m romanticizing the place, but the residents are worse. Like all good old-timers, they’re full of threats: “wait’ll you see the snow drifts,” “let’s see how you do outrunning an avalanche,” “good luck with the winds,” “the last Californians didn’t last a year.” God, what does that remind me of?

“Yeah, I loved it, but she’d never move there.”

With every taunt, my teeth ground more enamel, fingers rolling into a clench. And maybe Jack recognized this intensity, because on the day of closing, he hosted a gathering for us in the town's open space. He had us introduce ourselves to the skeptical locals, and I made my case in court, eyes narrowed and lips curled. “I’m the daughter of a smokejumper and wildlife biologist. I grew up watching the wind and the door. I’ve lived in big cities, small boats, and more than one cabin. I always take the stairs, I never use air-conditioning, and I’m a very good shot.” I’m just a girl, standing in front of a town, asking them to give her a fucking chance. Jack stepped forward to speak. “You know, I had my doubts about a couple Californians coming to look at my house. But these people? These are the nicest people you’re ever gonna meet.” And then I helped Jack set up his cot so he could spend his last night under the stars in the town that kept him young. Cooper ran circles with the other dogs. People brought homemade cocktails and bowls of dip and we felt welcomed. Even the mayor, a fellow writer, came and she struck up a conversation. “I hear you’ve got a little bit of a following on social media!” She teased. “I guess, nothing wild.” “Well I just wanted to let you know if you ever geotag this town, I’ll drag you out of it.” She grinned. This was a special place. And every visitor who couldn’t handle the realities of being here threatened the very wellbeing of the people who lived here. This town survives on a delicate balance. They source their own water, manage their own roads, and fervently protect the land and the people around them. Their stories about racing avalanches, snowmobiling in the dark of night to the doctor’s house, hunkering down in each other’s homes as the storms pass — these stories were bylaws. You can join when you’ve proven you’re ready to join. By their own projection, they are hardy and steadfast people, and when they see a Californian, they see something fleeting. Many years ago, I worked in the British Virgin Islands. The people born and raised there were called Belongers. At the customs office, the placards above the lines literally read, “If you belong, stand here” and “If you do not belong, stand here.” Whether or not we belong isn't up to the town council, and it's not up to these residents. It's up to years spent drifting my old Mustang in the snow on the way to school, up to Ben's months and months spent in the backcountry, up to my years of reading fire reports and assisting with evacuations, up to Ben's ability to read the landscape and the weather, up to my doggedness, his diligence, and our pathological love to do difficult things well. It’s up to us, to these old logs, and to this valley. Doesn't mean we'll belong, but it does mean we'll try. And for the record, the road is open in the winter. But do these sound like the kind of people who’d tell Google that? Next week, a tour of the house that we get to call ours — stuffed with newspaper, run by plants, and filled with mice. P.S. Here's where we get our mail.

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#newsletters #amwriting #relocation #home renovation #cabin life #cabin living #colorado #log cabin

[itsthestutterforme]

Your Fault (Supernatural)

Summary: Mary Winchester had died and Jack is in the wind. Sam and Dean just finished burying her and Dean is furious. He takes it out on Y/N and Cas, which leads Y/N attempts to take her life. Dean manages to save her before she follows through. He tries to comfort her but she refuses, so they bring someone else.

Warnings: mentions of self harm, mentions of suicide, attempted suicide, mentions of suicidal thoughts, please do not read if any of these trigger you. And please check up on your friends. You never know what they are going through and refuse to tell anyone about.

Characters: Dean x reader, Sam x reader, Castiel x reader, Jack x reader, Bobby x reader

--

You continue to pace back and forth in the study. "Pacing won't help anything," Cas states as he sits down at the table. "It helps my nerves, that's all that's matters right now." "How are you holding up?" Cas says, looking to you with concern weighing on his ocean blue eyes.

"What if they hate us, Cas?" "He can't hate you, Y/N. You're like family." "No, you're like family. I'm just.. I don't know what I am. You heard Dean, he said we were dead to him." "He's just in pain and he needs us," "We'll see." The door creaks open and the sound of the door closing echoes through the bunker.

Sam's face weighed with sadness, his forehead is absent of it's normal concern creases and his eyes were red and puffy. Dean on the other hand, his face was a neutral but the vertical crease between his eyebrows dipped. "Dean," you say, trying to hold his hand but he pulls away from you sharply. "Don't," he says before pushing past you.

"He just needs time," Sam says before approaching you. "Sam, I.. I'm so sorry." Cas says. "I know," Sam says softly before returning his gaze back to you. "I'll go check on Dean," Cas says before leaving the room. More tears escape Sam's eyes and you take his hand to lead his to his room. He follows you go the room and you close the door when you both lock in.

He sits on the edge of the bed and combs a hand through his hair. You stand in front of him and he looks up at you as he unravels before you eyes. You sit down next to him and his lips quivers. "Come here," you say, opening your arms and he leans into your shoulder. Your hold the back of his head and sobs into you.

The more time passed, the more intense his sobs became. Tears prick your eyes out of guilt and you lean your head against his temple. You were the support role for the Winchesters. The sound board of sorts. Even Mary came to your help for advice when she messed things up with the boys. She said that you knew them better than she did, well, the adult versions anyway.

You met the Winchesters through Bobby when you assisted with stopping the Leviathans and you just kept running into each other in various states. You were convinced that they were stalking you and they were convinced you were stalking them. You did not have any close family telling you to stop hunting, all you really had was Bobby. So you continued to find and go on hunts.

Soon enough, you ended up tagging along with the Winchesters and grew closer with each hunt. Sam is more in tune with his emotions, unlike Dean. Dean sees showing emotions as weak. Any other emotion outside of anger is rejected by him.

He was pissed at you and Cas, you knew it. And what's scares you is that you've never seen him that angry before, let alone at you.

The look he gave when he said if Mary was dead, that you were dead to him, sent chills down your spine. You love and depend on these boys. You would hope that the feeling would be reciprocated, but you're starting to question that. After thirty minutes of holding Sam and drawing circles on his scalp, he falls asleep.

You gently pull yourself away and kiss his forehead before quietly leaving. "You can't keep pushing yourself away, Dean," "Enough of this! Stop pretending to care! If you cared, you would have told me that there was something wrong with Jack ages ago!" "Hey, what's with all the yelling?" You ask, walking into the study.

"Sam is finally sleeping," you add. "How could he sleep after we just buried our mother?" "Hours of crying can drain your energy, believe me." You answer vaguely, not wanting to expose yourself.

"Why are you guys even here? It's clear what side you're on," "There are no sides here, Dean." "Yes there are. There's our side and there is Jack's side. Obviously, you're on his."

"You hated him from the beginning like some how he could control who his father was," Castiel defends. "And clearly I was right because she killed my mom!" Dean yells. "We don't even know the full story, Dean." You say. "I don't care about the whole story. It's about an eye for an eye now." "Dean, come on,"

"No, I think you guys should leave. Go somewhere else, anywhere else besides here." "You know that something goes wrong with the plan. Something always goes wrong," Castiel says. "Yeah, and why does that's something always seems to be you?" Dean snaps. "The angel with the bent halo and the leech overtook their stay," he adds.

"You don't mean that," you whimper with tears threatening your eyes. "I mean every single word." Dean snarks as he nears you. "Since Bobby introduced us, you were like a parasite trying to find it's host in us. No one else wanted you so you thought that we did. Sammy may have made you think that you're needed here but you're just a burgen. And that's all you ever will be," Dean spits.

A sharp pain pierced through your heart and you felt like you were going to be sick. "And you--" "Enough, Dean. You've said enough," Castiel snaps, knowing you were barely holding it together.

"I'll be gone by morning," you say softly before walking into your room. You close the door and lock the door behind you. Your eyes fall to the drawer where you hide your thin razor.

Everytime you relapse, you make the same promise to yourself saying that this is the last time and things will get better. But truthfully, things have only gotten worse and now you question if there's even a point from refraining. You slowly approach the drawer and open the top hatch to reveal the razor.

You take it's thin presence in your hand and smooth your thumb over it. You walk to the bathroom to take off your pants and pull down your underwear a little to see the other faint scars litter your butt and thighs.

You sigh and look at yourself like the filthy, disgusting scar that you were. Just as you were about to dig the razor in when I hear the door knob jiggle. "Y/N, it's me." Cas calls from the other side of the door.

The sweat from your palm makes the razor slicks and it slides right out of your hands. "Wait, no!" You watch helplessly as the razor falls down the unnaturally large drain. "Y/N, is everything alright?" Cas askss. "Yeah, I'm fine. I just need a minute," you call but fear got the best of Cas. He used his wings to fly into the bathroom and he sees your scars.

You quickly pull up your pants and buckle them. He opens his mouth to speak but you go off on a frantic tangent. "Castiel please don't tell them. If they find out that I'm doing this, they'll... they'll look at me like I'm some broken toy that needs fixing." "You are so much more than just a toy, Y/N," "It doesn't matter," "Stop dismissing yourself,"

"What can I say? I've been dismissed all my life, so I try to beat it to the punch." His face softens and he steps closer to you. "How long has this been going on?" "Since Bobby died,"

"That was yea-" "I know it was years ago but the pain is still fresh. I never got the chance to actually mourn him because I was busy helping the boys."

"Just please don't tell them," "Okay." You lean into his chest and he puts his head on top of yours as he hold you. He's less awkward than the first time I hugged him. "I'll pack my stuff tonight but can you drop me off in Boston. I've always wanted to go there." You ask. "Of course, if that's what you want." "Well what I want, I can't have. So this is the best alternative,"

"What do you want?" He asks, pulling away a little. "To escape," "Escape from the bunker or escape the world?" It's amazing how fast he catches on things now. He's come a long way from before. "Both," "Y/N-" "I'm fine, I'll be fine." "I'm sorry but I don't believe you. You've been suffering in silence while Dean takes out his suffering on you, it's not fair."

"Life isn't fair, Castiel. But if you really care about me, then you won't tell them and you'll let me leave. You'll let me escape," you say pushing on his chest. "Promise me," you add. "I promise," he says reluctantly. "Good," you walk back into the room and take out your duffel bags.

You can feel his stare on you but continue to pack. "You deserve better than this," "I'm not too sure about that. Hey, you mind stopping by the grocery store to pick up some snacks?" You ask. He eyes you suspiciously before saying, "Alright." He opens the door and walks out. You wait until the bunker door closes to pull out your laptop and scroll through your files until you come across ImSorry.mp3.

You click on it and look at yourself talking. This wasn't the first time you've had these deep, dark thoughts. But this is the first time they're winning. This seems like the best way to stop your pain. It'll be painless. You wait a few minutes to become one with your intentions.

A shaky breath leaves your lips before standing from the bed. You press pause on the video and activate the algorithm you created to send out the mp3 file an hour from now.

You should be gone by then. You close the laptop and advance towards the door. You walk past the kitchen and through the study when you hear Dean say, "Where are you going?" You stop in your tracks, careful not to let a sob slip. You take a deep breath before walking up the stairs to go to the garage.

"Y/N, wait," he says. You close the door and pick a random car in the garage to take out. You slowly drive out to the nearest bridge. You pull off to the side and put the car in park.

You hop outside and hold onto the ledge as you peer over. The water gushes and hits the massive rocks on the sides. Judging by the height of the bridge, it would kill you on impact.

You inhale sharply before hiking one of your legs over the ledge. You swing the other leg over and cautiously stand up on the ledge. Strong gusts of wind push and pull your hair every which way. You open your arms and close your eyes as you let the wind tug your body closer to the water.

Your feet stayed planted on the concrete ledge and you inhale the wet, salty air from the water below. "I'm sorry, Sam," you whisper. You hear a familiar hum of an engine. You look over your shoulder to see Dean getting out of the car. "Y/N, what the hell are you doing!" Dean yells.

You return your gaze back to the water and you move one foot off the ledge. "Damn it, I didn't mean anything I said. I.. I can't loose you too, please." You turn away from him to hide your tears. "Please, Y/N." "It's time that I be with Bobby, now Dean," "No!" You lean forward and lift off the ledge with your back foot.

Your hair covers your face, preventing you from seeing anything. And that's probably for the best. Gravity gains control of your body and you tumble down towards the water when you feel a strong hand grab your ankle.

Another hand grabs your waist pulls you back onto the ledge. Your eyes meet Dean's wide green eyes.

He pulls you down so your feet are planted on the ground. "You actually jumped. You were willing to die because of something I said," he says in disbelief. He holds the sides of you arms with a firm grip.

"Let me go, Dean," "I can't," "You were more than willing to push me away, how is this any different?" "Because I need you alive. Damn it, I need you."

He squeezes my arms and you stare into his eyes for a moment before looking over your shoulder at the water. He grabs your wrist and drags you towards the trunk of the Impala.

He lifts the trunk and grabs a pair of hand cuffs. He captures your wrists in the them and pushes you into the passenger side.

"Did you even think about us when you jumped?" He says sternly. You look out the window the entire ride back to the bunker. When he pulls into the garage, he lifts you out of the car and motions you to led the way back to the bunker's door. The door opens and there Sam and Cas stood at the bottom of the stairs.

"What happened? Why is she in handcuffs? And why did we get a I'm sorry video from you?" Sam asks frantically. You decided not to say anything and sit down at the table. Dean approaches them and tells them to go to the kitchen. He informs them of what you tried to do and Castiel was pissed.

"Im mean how can she be so selfish?" Dean snaps. "Selfish?" Sam repeats. He was about to say something else when Cas cuts him off. "You are such an asshole, Dean. She's dedicated more of her life and time to you both instead of herself. She hid her suffering and her pain to make sure you two were okay! She was hurting herself damn it, but of course you would give a damn about that!" Cas snaps.

"Cas," Sam mediates. "You have the nerve to shame her for having a big heart. I don't care if I'm dead to you because you blame me for Mary, you're dead to me for making Y/N believe that she'll never be good enough for you!" Cas spits. He pushes past them and makes his way over to Y/N long strides.

"Come on, Y/N, we're leaving." Cas motions you to stand up. You shake your head no and he adds, "You want to stay here?" "I don't know what I want, Cas, that's the problem."

"You should leave, put this -us- in your rearview mirror." Sam says, walking into the study. You shrug and lean your back into the chair. You lean your elbows on the table and rest your face in your hands.

"You could have told me, Y/N. You've been there for me more time than I can count. Let me help you." Sam says softly. "We can be there for you when you need it, Y/N. You just have to trust us." Cas says.

Sam pulls you in for a hug first and Cas followed suit. Dean walks into the study to see that they were hugging.

He didn't know what to do. He feels at fault for Y/N keeping to herself. He made everything about him and Sam and didn't think about how Y/N was holding up.

**

Even after Cas and Sam showed their support, you remained quiet. You appreciate their efforts, but nothing they can do is going to make you feel the closure that you needed to mourn Bobby.

You stayed behind with Charlie to make sure things went as planned on the flip side. Sam and Dean took Bobby to the hospital after Dick shot him in the head.

An hour after his surgery, he died and you never got the chance to say goodbye. "Are you sure this is going to work?" Dean asks Sam. "I really hope that it does." Sam says before looking to Cas. You were fresh out of the shower and in the process of pulling your hair into braids.

You heard a loud clash followed by the ground shaking. "Guys?" You rush out of the room and run to where you heard voices. "Sam? Dean? Castiel?" You call as you cough from the smoke entering your lungs. You swat away the smoke with your hand and continued to cough.

"We're alright," Dean says. The rest of them were coughing too and when the smoke and dust finally cleared, there stood Bobby in the middle of the dried twigs. Him in his favorite white and blue sea bass hat and the green rain jacket he always wore over his flannels.

"What are you idjits doin'! You know how many unwritten laws you're breakin' right now? Too many, that's how many," "Bobby?" You say in disbelief. "Hey pumpkin," he says with his face softening after yelling at the boys.

He knew you're past all too well and he tried his hardest to help you move past it. And here you are, right back where you started. Your body has a mind of its own and runs over to him. He reached out to smooth a hand over your hair and you gasp in disbelief that he was actually here.

"What happened to you, honey? I told you knuckle heads to take care of her," Bobby snarks. "I relapsed again, Bobby. I'm so sorry."

He holds the sides of your face and caresses the hood of your eyes with his thumbs. Bobby was not the physically affectionate type, but he knew that was the only way to show you that he cared.

"There's nothing for you to be ashamed about. You're human and you make mistakes." You duck your face to hide your tears from him and he pulls you into his chest.

You completely unravel and you sobs prevented your ability to breathe. You collapse to floor and Bobby followed you.

He cradled you into his arms and you sobbed into the crook of his arm. Bobby looks up to the boys and they stare at her. "What the hell happened?" "We don't really know. She's been in a rough patch, but we just don't know for how long." Sam says, watching Y/N's body tremble as she cries.

"You boys were suppose to take care of her," Bobby says. "We know, we-" "We failed her, I'm sorry, Bobby." Dean says, clenching his jaw. "Well don't tell me. Hug her and tell her you're sorry. And you better mean it, boy," he commands.

Dean reluctantly kneels down next to you and tugs you towards his chest. You lean your head into his collarbone and holds the side of your head. You sniffle a little but furrow your brow when you hear him sniffle. "I'm so sorry."

You wrap your arms around his neck and rest your head on his shoulder. "Let's give em' a minute, we're all going to take some turns getting our heads out of ours ass. Come on," Bobby says, motioning the rest of the crew to leave.

#sam winchester #sam x reader #sam winchester x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean x reader #supernatural #castiel x reader