#Has had Bobby rail him RIGHT after a fight before

[zappedbyzabka]

Thinking about Bobby’s outbursts of anger when fighting.

He goes from “Maybe we should just chill” to “You’re dead. I’m going to kill you!”

[delopsia]

Not sure if you’ve answered this before…but who’s the most desperate for it when Bob gets back from deployment?

I feel like it’s Rhett and he’s an absolute menace until he gots Bob inside him. He teases and pushes bobs buttons until it happens, riding that fine line of getting denied for being so awful but Bob can’t resist. But after one orgasm each then Rhett gets punished while Bob takes care of reader but lets be honest, he was craving a punishment too.

I...done got carried away 😬 oops

A part of me is inclined to say that Bobby himself is the most desperate of the three; he's just not as vocal about it. For the past several months, Rhett and Reader have, at the very least, had each other to play with, but Bob? He's been crammed on a ship, in a tiny room full of people, and into an even tinier bunk bed.

The most intimate touch he's had came from his own rushed hand while in the shower, and the only thing he's seen of Reader and Rhett have been the occasional photos and videos that they've sent. Some erotic, some mundane, it's a true mix.

And maybe he'd get found out a little faster if Rhett wasn't so damn distracting. Leaning up from the back seat and letting his breath fan out against Bob's pale neck, pressing his palm to the small of Bob's back when they step through a door. He even slips into those cute, pastel pink shorts when they get home, long legs and thick thighs on perfect display, lounging in bed while Bob fusses with unpacking.

The Reader knew he was going to do this, not because Rhett Abbott is a predictable man (though he usually is), but because they jokingly orchestrated this several weeks before. And that's why they keep distracting Bob just enough to keep him from snapping on the spot, stringing him out until their dinner plans are over. It works so well that they reckon he might last through a movie or two.

But then Rhett mistakenly drops something and bends down at just the right angle to brush against Bobby's crotch, and Bob's patience shatters.

It wasn't even Rhett's intention to set him off. Not like that, at least, but it's hard to argue with being bent over the arm of the couch. Maybe Bobby finds a cute, heart-shaped plug when he yanks down those goddamned pastel shorts. Maybe there are lingering marks from when he and the Reader had a little fun before they headed to the airport.

Rhett's at his prettiest when he's being railed from behind. A hand tangled in his hair, forcing his head up, his arms trembling on either side of the Reader, hot breath on their chest, nothing but choked noises and mindless babbles. It's been so long since the Reader last watched his tongue loll out of his mouth, panting like a damn dog.

But the Reader has gone and incriminated themselves, and though there's a brief shower intermission, they find themselves bent over the kitchen sink. Head in Rhett's lap, feeling the way his hands roam across their naked back while Bobby pushes into them. A sharper pair of eyes might notice Bob's own poorly hidden desperation, but those aren't in the room right now. Too distracted by the Reader's whine and the soft smack of skin on skin.

It's not until morning that Rhett and Reader realize how damn bad Bob's got it. Hell, they're still snuggled together, blinking away the sleepiness in their eyes when a faint squelch catches their ears. Bobby, in his own little world, carefully fucking himself on his own fingers.

Those cheeks twinge with pink when he opens his eyes to find an audience, but shame is something he hasn't known in years. Rhett's sore, and the Reader isn't in the mood to fight with that strap-on, but it's hard to resist digging out Bob's favorite toy. Snuggling up on either side of him, taking turns slowly fucking him with it. But that's not enough either.

And it's a good thing that everyone took time off because it takes a damn week to wring him dry. Even then, Rhett reckons Bob might jump his bones every time he slips into those tiny little shorts.

[dean-winchester-is-a-warrior]

Green is My Favorite Color Ch. 11

Series Summary: Dean has been her hero from childhood, can she ever get him to be more?

Pairings: Dean x OFC

Warnings: Angst, some fluff, hospital setting, talk of injuries.

Word Count: 3,395

Chapter Summary: What will happen for Julie and Dean when she wakes up?

A/N:  The eleventh chapter in a longer series. As I’m writing, the story is stretching out a little and I’m thinking it’s going to be at least 20 chapters. Sorry! 😬 It’s what I’ll call cannon adjacent. It will follow the general storylines through the seasons, but I’m creating my own offshoots. 😊

A/N 2: I'm SO sorry this chapter was two weeks in coming. RL got all up in my face! LOL! The next chapter should be up by the end of this coming week. I hope chapter 11 was worth the wait even though it's a bit short. I know for sure the next chapter will be pretty long, so I figured I wouldn't tire you out with this one! 😉

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Julie's eyelids felt heavier than lead as she tried to force them open. The room was dim, but still bright to her exhausted eyeballs. They felt grainy and dry, but she finally managed to keep them open long enough to take in her surroundings.

She was in a bed.

She looked down at her chest to see the countless tubes and wires that were connected to her.

Check that - she was in a hospital bed.

She looked passed the end of her bed, to her right, and saw Sam's very long frame scrunched up on a tiny, two person, blue vinyl, hospital couch.

It made her smile.

Then at the foot of her bed were two wooden chairs, covered in more vinyl, yellow and orange this time. One of the chairs held a dozing Bobby, his hat over his eyes and his mouth open slightly, a light snore issuing from it.

The other chair held a man in a tan trench coat, staring at the floor. She didn't recognize him, but there was a sort of vague familiarity there that she couldn't put her finger on.

Sitting beside her on her left, was Dean.

His hand was pushed through the side rail of the bed so it rested over hers. He sat upright in what looked like the world's most uncomfortable chair, the blue vinyl that covered parts of the arms and back was cracked and tufts of white stuffing were sticking out.

He couldn't possibly be comfortable, and yet he was sleeping. Maybe he was just exhausted Julie reasoned, since there were dark purple circles under his eyes and his cheeks looked sunken and pale. He had what looked like several days worth of beard covering his face and Julie found she wanted to reach up and run her fingers through it.

As she shifted her hand under his, intending to do just that, his eyes sprung open and then widened in shock.

"Jules." he whispered. Then he shouted, "Jules!"

The other three men jumped to their feet, Sam's legs a little rubbery under him after being constricted for so long.

"Sam, go get the doctor." Dean shouted at him and Sam nodded, his deep dimples showing in his wide grin as he dashed out the door.

Julie shook her head, overwhelmed by all the faces staring at her in expectation. She gave a kind of feeble wave.

"Hi." she said, lamely.

But Dean was beaming down at her like she'd just given the most rousing of speeches. Bobby was surreptitiously wiping away tears and the handsome blue-eyed man at the end of the bed gave her a small smile and a nod.

He continued to be familiar, his identity just out of reach. Dean saw her staring at him and smiled.

"Oh, yeah. Guess you guys haven't officially met. Cas, this is Julie. Jules, this is Cas."

Julie remembered suddenly where she recognized him from. He'd been with Bobby and Sam when they came to fight the angels.

"Angels." Julie whispered.

It all came rushing back to her memory and she closed her eyes, her breath catching as the fear and terror came rushing back to her.

Dean leaned down and pressed his lips to her forehead. "It's okay, Jules. You're safe now." Before he could say anything more, the doctor came in, with a bright smile on her face.

"Good morning, Ms. Taylor. I'm Dr. Doshi." She said with a hint of a musical Indian accent lilting her words. "We've been a little worried about you. You've had quite the room full of champions here these last few days." she said, indicating the four very large men taking up most of the room.

"Days?" Julie asked, shocked.

"Yes." The doctor said as she pushed her way in between Dean and the bed, paying no mind to his hulking presence or his refusal to move.

She looked at the machines that were beeping around Julie and wrote on the clipboard she carried before tucking it under her arm and laying her hand on Julie’s shoulder.

"It was almost three days ago that you were mugged and stabbed. Do you remember what happened?"

Julie looked at Dean and he smiled. "Oh, um...no, I'm sorry. I don't remember much of anything."

The doctor nodded and smiled kindly again, patting her and moving off to the other side of the bed to mark down numbers from those blinking and beeping machines.

"Not to worry, my dear. That's very common when someone suffers a trauma as you did. It may come back to you slowly, or it may not come back at all. But for now the most important thing is that you continue to rest and improve."

She moved to the foot of the bed and hung the clipboard there. "You had a puncture to your spleen and had emergency surgery to remove it. You shouldn't worry about the loss, since your liver will take over for most of the functions your spleen carried out."

Julie just nodded feeling as though her head might split from the sheer amount of data being processed by her brain.

"You lost a lot of blood, and we were quite concerned for some time about the excessive internal bleeding you’d suffered. You also had an infection take hold at the site of the wound, but you seem to be coming along nicely now. Your vitals are good, and you're awake which is a very big sign of improvement."

The doctor turned to the men. "Now gentlemen, against all the rules of the hospital, I have given you permission to stay here while Ms. Taylor's condition was so unstable. But I'm afraid now, I must insist that you go get a proper night's sleep for yourselves, eat food, and return tomorrow when visiting hours begin."

The others nodded reluctantly, but Dean sat back on the uncomfortable chair. "No, I'm gonna stay here."

Dr. Doshi smiled sweetly, but her voice was like steel. "No, Mr. Winchester, you will not stay here. You will leave with your friends and let Ms. Taylor rest. She is only going to sleep now, anyway."

Julie turned her head to Dean in time to see him give the little doctor the most withering stare he could muster up. "Yes, and when she wakes up, I will be here."

"Dean." Julie admonished quietly. But she needn't have bothered. Dr. Doshi was not impressed with or bothered by his steely demeanor.

"You will be here in the morning when visiting hours begin, at seven AM."

The doctor stared at the hunter, never losing her smile, but never giving an inch either. Clearly Dean was not the first stubborn patient or family she'd dealt with and she would brook no nonsense.

Finally her eyes softened slightly and she leaned forward to pat Dean's hand. "I promise we'll take good care of her, haven't we so far?"

Dean nodded, begrudgingly.

Dr. Doshi nodded back. "And so now I must insist that you don't make yourself our next patient. Please go take care of yourselves." she said, looking around and including the other three men in her concern.

Dean caved. Orders and commands he could fight, but he got awkward when someone showed concern for him, and he never really knew how to act.

"Fine." he said quietly. "Can I have two minutes?"

Dr. Doshi nodded as she turned away. "Just two and no more." Dean rolled his eyes.

Bobby and Sam came and gave her a hug telling her they'd be back first thing. Cas shook her hand a little stiffly and patted Dean on the shoulder as he left.

Dean looked down at her and suddenly the room was very empty and quiet. Julie smiled at him, completely unsure how to act now that they were alone. She was so tired and her mind was still swimming with everything it was trying to process.

Seeming to understand, Dean just leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek before he pulled back and took her hand.

"I'll go and let you sleep. I just wanted to let you know that you'll be safe. Cas branded your ribs."

Julie's eyes got wide. "He did what?"

Dean smiled. "It's an Enochian sigil. It will keep you hidden from the angels. Cas carved it into your ribs, it's what he did for me and Sam."

His eyes got dark, and Julie could see guilt rear up in his expression. "God, Jules, I'm so sorry. I should have sent Cas to you a long time ago to hide you from them. It was so careless...so..." he broke off, his jaw clenched.

"Dean, don't." Julie said, tears coming to her eyes.

She wasn't sure why she was crying. Maybe it was just the culmination of everything that had happened, or maybe it was her sadness at knowing that no matter what she said, Dean wouldn't let go of bearing the guilt for what had happened. Whatever the reason, tears spilled down her cheeks and Dean shook his head.

"Don't cry, Sweetheart." He let go of her hand and reached into his jacket pocket.

"Here. Maybe you could use this again." He said as he opened his hand to show her what he’d pulled out.

Hanging from a thin piece of black cloth was her cherished silver talisman. He tied the delicate cloth around her wrist like a bracelet.

Instead of ending her tears like Dean had hoped, her sobs increased.

Dean was immediately contrite. "Jules, this...it was supposed to help!"

Julie laughed through her tears. "It does. Really." She reached up for him and he immediately leaned down to her so she wouldn't have to stretch.

She pulled him in for a kiss that was meant to be quick, but turned heated and extended as soon as her lips met his. Ten months of wanting his mouth on hers made it very difficult to stop or pull away.

But the sound of a throat being cleared pulled them apart. In the doorway, Dr. Doshi stood and tapped her watch without saying anything. Dean growled slightly, and Dr. Doshi smiled back.

With one more wholly unsatisfying peck on the lips, Dean stood up. "I'll be back first thing." Dean promised.

Julie nodded and brushed away the last of her tears and smiled. "I'll be here."

Dr. Doshi moved out of the doorway as Dean pushed passed her. "Doctor." He acknowledged with a tight smile.

"Mr. Winchester."

The next morning Julie was sitting up drinking a cup of coffee from her breakfast tray when she heard Dean’s voice.

“It’s five friggin’ minutes! Are you kidding me?” He wasn’t exactly yelling, but he could definitely be heard.

Julie heard the muffled and significantly quieter voices of the nurses, but couldn’t make out their response.

“So what if she is sleeping? Do you think I’m gonna go in there with a fucking brass band and wake her up? I just want to go into her room.” He seemed to realize he was contradicting his claim of being able to be quiet, and his voice got low enough that she could no longer hear him.

But he must have won the fight because shortly thereafter he was quietly opening her door and peaking inside. When he saw her sitting up finishing her breakfast, he scowled out the open door. “She’s eating breakfast, and you’re telling me you didn’t know if she was awake?”

He rolled his eyes and tried to slam the door, but it was on hydraulics and couldn’t be slammed. He settled for scowling his way over to her bedside, cup of coffee in hand.

“Good morning!” Julie said, extra chipper. “Sounds like your morning is off to a great start!” She gave him an overly cheery smile and he returned it with an incredibly sarcastic one.

“They weren’t going to let me in because visiting hours didn’t start for another five minutes. Can you believe that? Why are they so against visitors here?” He handed over the coffee he held and took the plastic cup out of her hand.

“Here, this will be much better.” He said, setting the hospital coffee down on her breakfast tray.

Julie took a sip and let out a grateful groan. It was delicious and was once again made perfectly to her preferences.

Magic.

She pushed her breakfast tray out of the way and scooted her legs over a little, patting the bed, so Dean would sit down.

“How are you feeling?” He asked as he sat.

Julie shrugged. “Not bad. They gave me a lot of painkillers, so I slept pretty good.” She dangled the charm on her wrist and smiled. “And of course, I had this.”

Dean smiled back, but it was short lived. “Jules...” he began and Julie knew what he was going to say before he said it.

“I’m so sorry. I never thought…I mean, I knew how badly Zachariah wanted me to say yes, and I knew what he was willing to do to us, to me and Sam, to make it happen, I just didn’t think he’d go so far as to hurt someone completely innocent and uninvolved.”

He shook his head. “But I should have known. I should have realized how fanatical he was. I should have had Cas ward you a long time ago. It’s just…” He closed his eyes tightly. “I spend so much time actively trying not to think about you, that I…” He trailed off and opened his eyes again.

“Jules, I’m so sorry. I can't ever...” his voice was too choked to finish his thought.

Julie shook her head and reached out her hand toward him. He took it and trapped it between both of his. “Please, don’t apologize, Dean. And don’t feel guilty. You didn’t do this to me, and it's not your fault." Julie tried to bolster him with a grin. "You did, however, end the guy who did, so...thanks!”

Dean nodded absently and Julie knew he wasn’t going to let go of the blame. “Yeah,” he said with a smile, “I managed it with a pretty amazing assist from this newbie hunter. You shoulda seen her.”

Julie blushed a little, but before she could respond, Cas pushed open the door. “Dean.”

He noticed Julie and nodded. “Hello. How are you this morning?”

“Better, thanks.”

“That's good.” The angel looked back to Dean. “We’ve gotta go, Dean.��

Julie felt her heart drop. Dean rolled his eyes and licked his lips before he looked over his shoulder at Cas. “Yeah, okay Cas. Just give me a minute.”

Dean turned back to Julie and opened his mouth to speak but then he paused, looking back to Cas still standing in the doorway. He stared at him for a moment before Cas seemed to cotton on.

“I’m sensing awkwardness. I should leave the room?” He asked.

“Yeah, Cas. 'Give me a minute', means go away and I’ll see you in a minute. Or two.” He added when he realized the angel was likely to time out an exact minute.

Cas nodded slightly and left the room.

Dean shook his head and smiled at Julie. “He grows on you.”

Julie nodded. “I bet. Tell him I say thank you for helping to save our lives.”

“I will.”

Julie frowned. “How did the three of them even know where we were, or that we were in trouble?”

“Cas.” Dean said, nodding toward the door and the departed angel. “Another angel, Inias, an old garrison buddy of Cas’, didn’t approve of what Zachariah was doing, involving an innocent human, and reached out to Cas.”

Julie nodded. “I guess we should be grateful not all the angels are sadistic monsters.”

Dean gave a small huff and rolled his eyes. He didn’t seem to be won over.

There was quiet for a moment and then Julie spoke, barely above a whisper. “You’re leaving?”

Dean inhaled deeply. “Cas says there’s a rogue cupid in a little town back east.”

Julie frowned. “A rogue cupid? Like, you mean the fat baby with a bow and arrow?”

“That’s what I said,” Dean smiled at her. “but Cas says a cupid looks pretty much like any other angel.”

Julie nodded. “Well, we don’t want a rogue angel running around, that’s for sure.”

Silence reigned again, but it was so full of unspoken things that Julie felt choked by it.

Finally Dean stood up and moved to her side. He leaned down and grasped her face with both hands and captured her mouth in a deep kiss.

With all the tubes and wires still hooked up to her Dean couldn’t get as close to her as he wanted, but he swept his tongue into her mouth, licking up into her and causing Julie’s stomach to tighten and her core muscles to clench.

He slanted his mouth over hers again and again, moaning softly as she grasped the zippered sides of his green canvas jacket and pulled him closer.

Suddenly there was a very loud beeping noise coming from one of the machines beside the bed and a nurse came rushing in. Seeing, the tableau of Dean grasping Julie’s face and Julie grabbing onto Dean, the nurse rolled her eyes, but grinned as she moved over to stop the beeping.

“Your heart rate spiked.” She said, blushing slightly as she looked at Dean, with his kiss swollen lips and heated expression. “Try to be careful.”

She practically ran out of the room and Dean dropped his forehead to Julie’s with a chuckle. “I’m pretty sure most of the medical team looking after you wants to throttle me.”

Julie smiled through the tears that sprang to her eyes as Dean pulled away. She let her hands drop from him and looked down at her lap.

“Jules.” Dean said, his voice soft and imploring. “Please…don’t.”

Julie looked up at him and didn’t try to stop her tears. “I can’t help it. I won’t pretend I’m okay with this, because I’m not. I know you have to go now, but come back to me. When this hunt is over, come back to Bobby’s, let me help you heal, let me take care of you just a little bit before the next fight comes. And when I’m well again, let me join the battle, let me fight beside you.”

Her voice got very soft as she reached out a hand and ran it down his cheek.

“God, Dean. Just let me love you.”

Dean closed his eyes and she could see the column of his throat moving up and down as he swallowed. When he opened his eyes again, Julie saw that something had shifted in his gaze. He almost looked resigned and fearful. His look was one that said, 'God, I shouldn’t be doing this.' He opened his mouth to say something but Cas was suddenly there in the doorway.

“I’m sorry, Dean, but it’s been a lot more than two minutes, and we really must go now.”

Julie was desperate to know what Dean had been about to say, but he just nodded silently, jaw clenched, before he pressed a kiss to her cheek and pulled away.

“Please take care of yourself, Jules. Sam will stop in right away to say goodbye and Bobby and Annie are going to be here soon to stay with you.”

He nodded again stiffly and his smile was more like a grimace. “I’ll see ya, kid.” He said and spun away from her and out the door.

Cas looked at her heartbroken face and her tears falling rapidly and frowned deeply. “I really am very sorry Julie. I don’t know…” He paused and looked very confused.

“I’m sorry.” He repeated, following Dean out the door, and Julie was alone again, her heart broken again.

But this time she had a tiny spot of light in the form of Dean’s interrupted thought. He was going to say something, and despite telling herself that it was stupid to consider it, stupid to think he was going to say anything besides another goodbye, Julie couldn’t beat back the kernel of hope in her heart that maybe she would see him again soon. Or sooner than last time anyway.

She did see him a lot sooner. He showed up on her doorstep three months later, when his world ended.

Chapter 12

[cherrycocaineee]

13. Dean Winchester - Confession

    Bobby was sitting at his desk flipping through the millions of dusty, old, torn books he had collected over the years when I came down the stairs, carrying my purse along my shoulder. The sound of my small feet thumping against his creaky wooden floors caused him to look at me. He was already drinking scotch this early in the morning and the tired, purple bags under his eyes proved that he had a restless night just like usual. I smiled sympathetically at him as I approached, getting a large whiff of the liquor he was pouring down his throat. I could hardly count the number of times I’ve warned him and the boys about drinking so much, yet they never listened. Though I didn’t really expect them to, considering all of the things they’ve seen in their lifetime.

  “Where are you off to?” He asked, pouring himself another glass of scotch.

 “We’re low on groceries,” I hummed, “so I’m going down to the market to pick some stuff up. I’ll make breakfast when I come back, okay?”

   “I’ll hold ya to that. You need any money?”

 I shook my head and patted the side of my purse before leaving for the market. It wasn’t a long trip, it was literally a block from where Bobby lived. When I arrived at the small, yet vibrant place, I inhaled the sweet scent of freshly picked produce and other aromas. Inside I pushed the basket around and collected everything we needed for the house: fresh produce, meats, bread, eggs, and much more. Considering how much fast food I use while travelling with the boys, I was happy to find a place that sold freshly grown fruits and vegetables, and freshly cut chops of meat, and more. I spent an hour in total at the market before paying for my groceries and heading back to the house.

  While carrying all of the paper bags inside, I could hear talking going on inside. I shook it off as Bobby being on the phone and continued.

  “Bobby, I’m home,” I called, “I’m about to start breakfast, so why don’t you trade that scotch in for a cup of coffee.”

  The voices from the other room quieted down just as I placed the groceries on the kitchen table. I walked out of the kitchen and saw Bobby standing in the middle of the room with none other than Dean and Sam. My eyes widened at the sight of them. The last time I saw Sam was when he jumped into the cage, holding Lucifer in and knocking Michael inside too. And Dean, well, I hadn’t seen him since he went to live with Lisa and Ben. It had hurt a lot when he left too, not wanting to stay with Bobby. Not wanting to stay with me. But I didn’t make a big deal about it despite being madly in love with him. Though I’d never tell him that since he was in love with Lisa.

  “Hey, Persephone,” Sam and Dean said simultaneously, making my eyes water.

  “Hey,” I whispered, a smile forming on my face.

  I walked over to them and embraced them both, feeling their large, muscular arms wrap around my thin frame as they held me close. As I pulled away from the hug, Lisa popped her head around the corner. My chest was tightening as I saw Dean walk over to her. They went off to speak to one another, I cleared my throat and turned my attention to Sam.

  “When did you get back from hell?” I asked.

  From the look on his face and the way he was rubbing the back of his neck with his rough hands, I knew there was something he wasn’t sure he wanted to tell me. Or at least the truth anyway. But he decided that he’d tell me in the end.

 “A year, actually,” he muttered.

  My forest green eyes widened at his words. I spent the next fifteen minutes tearing a new one into both Sam and Bobby, who had been hiding this from me the entire year, then returned to the kitchen to cook breakfast. There was a mix of frustration, betrayal, and other emotions mixing up inside of me as I started scrambling the eggs and cooking the sausage and bacon. Quiet sizzling could be heard throughout the kitchen, masking the sound of my humming while I cooked. As I was moving on to the coffee, I heard footsteps coming from behind me so I swirled around to see Dean walking in. He didn’t look too happy either.

  “Did you just find out that Sam’s been back for a year too?” I questioned, throwing away the old coffee grounds into the trash.

 “Well yes,” he stated, “but that’s not while I’m upset.”

  I had started plating the food by then, starting off with Ben’s since he was here and was probably hungry.

  “What’s going on?”

  I set a cup of coffee down in front of him.

  “Sam needs my help hunting a Djinn,” he answered, “and I’m worried because the things might come after Lisa and Ben.”

  Honestly, I should have seen that coming. Sam, despite being back from hell, wouldn’t have asked Dean for help if it wasn’t life or death. It made me wonder if they’d only come to drop off Dean's family or to ask me to help. Don’t get me wrong, I wasn’t jealous of Lisa, in fact, I was happy for her and Dean. It just hurt every time I saw them together.

  “So that’s why you brought them to Bobby’s,” I whispered, buttering some fresh French bread, “so we could watch them while you guys hunted the Djinn?”

  “Well actually,” Dean said, placing his cup on the table, “just for Bobby to watch them. You’re coming with us right?”

  A small, sad smile appeared on my face as I lifted up Bobby’s plate while shaking my head.

 “I don’t hunt anymore, Dean. When Sam jumped into that cage and you left to go live with Lisa and Ben, the two of you left me behind. So I just stopped hunting. Now I just clean up and cook while studying.”

  “Studying?”

  “I started going back to school. Granted it’s online but I figured I might as well get an education.”

  It was silent between us, so I just walked away and headed towards Bobby with his breakfast. He was sitting at his desk once again when I arrived and graciously welcomed the warm food. I went back into the kitchen, where Dean was still sitting, and picked up the plate for Ben then headed upstairs to give it to him.

  Lisa was unpacking their overnight bags when I reached the room they were staying in. Ben was sitting on the bed, playing some video game on his gaming device. Tapping on the door, I caught their attention and smiled welcomingly.

  “Hey,” I said, “I’m Persephone, a friend of Sam and Dean’s. I made your son some breakfast if he’d like to eat.”

  A smile appeared on her face in return, “thank you, Persephone. I’m Lisa and this is Ben.”

  I didn’t tell her that I already knew her name, that would be rude. Instead, I shook her hand and placed Ben’s food down on one of the nightstands. He thanked me and started shoveling food inside his mouth fast. It reminded me of how Dean would eat when he was in a rush. Swallowing the forming lump inside my throat, I left the two of them to finish unpacking. Halfway down the stairs, I froze and gripped the railing tight. My heart felt like it was racing, tears were streaming down my cheek as I tried to collect myself. Wiping away the unwanted water leaks, I sighed softly and went downstairs. Sam and Dean were getting ready to leave when I made it to the main room. The two Winchester brother’s faced me when I entered.

  “You sure you don’t want to come, Perse?” Sam inquired.

 I held up my hands and giggled, “no thanks. You guys be safe.”

  I hugged them tightly, almost relaxing when I felt the safety of their embrace. They said a final goodbye to Bobby and I then left for wherever it was they were going to hunt this monster. Bobby returned to his breakfast and I went into the kitchen to pack up the leftovers and clean up. Once the kitchen was tidied up, I headed back upstairs to my room to get some reading done. I had some homework assignments that were in desperate need of doing before midnight tomorrow and I liked to stay ahead of the clock.

  Hours and hours passed before I finally passed out while reading my book. No dreams occupied my slumber while I napped, however, I was eventually awakened by the sound of someone knocking on my door. Stirring around in my covers, both eyes pried themselves open and stared at the dimly lit ceiling before looking to my right and seeing it was well past three o’clock in the morning. Another knock echoed throughout the room and I finally dragged myself out of the comforting quilt and onto the assaulting, cold floor. I rubbed my eyes to wipe the sleep away and pulled the door open. Lisa was standing on the other side, holding a plate in her hand.

  “Bobby said that you were up here studying, and you missed dinner,” she said, “did I wake you?”

 “Yeah,” I groggily whispered, “but it’s okay.”

  I took the plate from her and saw that she had cooked some chicken noodle soup. It smelled great, reminding me of my early years in life when I still lived with my mom. She followed me inside of the room as I sat criss crossed on my bed with the soup in hand, smelling the melted butter on the toast. My eyes met the clock once again and was astonished to see that I had slept and studied for such a long time. It felt like only seconds ago that it was morning and I had just finished cooking breakfast.

 “Persephone,” Lisa said while I slurped the soup up, “I’m sure you’re aware of the things Sam and Dean do, right?”

  “Of course,” I answered before scooping another spoonful of soup in my mouth.

 “How were you okay with it? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I love Dean and I understand that he’s gotta do what he has to, but sometimes I worry that he’ll come home hurt or something will follow him home.”

   Though there was a ping in my chest when she said she loved Dean, I couldn’t help but smile at how worried she was for him. It was something that he definitely needed since he was always worrying about other people. I placed the plate onto the empty nightstand and scooted closer to the edge of the bed, patting the spot next to me. When Lisa sat down, I took her hands into my own.

  “It’s a lot to process,” I whispered, “when I met Sam and Dean, I was so unsure about leaving everything I knew to travel with them and fight all of those monsters. But I know deep down in my heart that they would never let people they love get hurt and they’ll die trying to protect those they consider family. Especially Dean. What you can do for him, is just be there, even if it’s hard. Because at the end of the day, he needs that most of all.”

   The two of us shared a hug before she agreed she would do her best to make Dean feel loved and secure. After saying goodnight to me, she retreated back to her room, closing the door behind her. When she was out of sight, I grabbed my soup again and slowly started slurping it up again. It was comforting knowing that she would be taking care of Dean. Once he came back, I’d persuade him to go back with Lisa, telling him that he deserved to be with someone that made him happy.

   The next day came quickly and I hadn’t fallen back asleep after my conversation with Lisa, so I spent the rest of the entire night reading. Soft, illuminating rays of sunshine burst through the clear, white curtains in my room as I finished throwing on a short-sleeve, white, shirt that only tied close. Running my fingers through my brushed hair, I fixed up any lumps that were visible.

  Bobby was asleep at his desk when I reached downstairs, so I went over to him and wrapped a blanket around his snoring body. Picking up his almost empty bottle of scotch, I carried it back to the kitchen to put it away and make a new pot of coffee. Wanting nothing more than to sit outside with a non-school book and my delicious morning nectar, reading as the sun played against my pale skin. There was no telling when Sam and Dean would be home, along with there being no way of knowing when they would wake up. So I wanted to get in as much peace and quiet as possible before the day began.

  With the coffee cup in my right hand and a good book in the other, I sat on the back of one of Bobby’s rundown cars and started reading. Four chapters in and I was already getting up to make myself a second cup of joe. Just as I slipped off the back of the rusted car, Dean and Sam pulled up. The sun was only just inching towards the middle of the sky when they arrived. Both climbing out of their seats, I noticed that they were not only tired but relieved.

  “How’d it go?” I inquired, “seemed pretty quick.”

 “It went fine,” Sam replied, “except Dean’s got a big slash on his arm. They came right at us.”

   I went over to Dean and saw that he had wrapped his cut in a cloth but the blood was still leaking through. Clicking my tongue, I shook my head while leading the two of them inside. Sam explained on the way that they had figured that the Djinn were targeting both of them, so they went back to Dean’s home and waited there. When Dean noticed that his friends and neighbors were being killed, he ran to help and ended up almost dying. But Sam helped him. The fight raged on but in the end, the Winchester boys came out on top. Sam went to wash up while I started taking care of Dean’s wound.

  With the First Aid Kit laying beside me on the kitchen table, I unwrapped his wound and gulped at the sight of it. Dean chuckled.

  “Makes you miss the old days, huh?” He laughed.

 “Not really,” I giggled, “a lot of it may have been great but watching the two people I cared the most about get injured was never easy.”

  “It was never easy watching you get hurt either.”

 I cleaned up the wound and sprayed some of the cleaning solution on it causing Dean to wince. It made me laugh because of how soft he had become in the last year. After rewrapping the wound in a proper bandage, I threw everything else away and put the first aid kit back in its rightful spot. When I looked back at him, I saw that he was staring at his hands.

  “Are you thinking about leaving Lisa and Ben?” I asked, returning to the table.

  “I’m not sure,” he stated, “if I leave them, more monsters could show up looking for me and hurt them, but if I stay then even more monsters will show up and hurt them to get to me.”

  “But at least you’d be there to protect them.”

 His perfect, bright green eyes met my own darker, emerald ones.

  “If you left Lisa and Ben today, then you would never be able to forgive yourself if they got hurt without you being there. However, I know, and Lisa knows, that you would do anything for the people you love. So maybe you being there is what’s best right now.”

   The words seemed to sink in before he nodded in agreement.

 “Then it’s settled. I’ll be going back with Lisa and Ben when they wake up.”

   I squeezed his shoulder and sat down at the table. Running a shaking hand through my hair as a soft sigh left my lips. I don’t know what came over me, all of a sudden I felt that maybe I should say something to him if this was the last time I’d see him. I had no intention of breaking him and Lisa up but I couldn’t keep it to myself anymore. It was practically tearing me up inside.

  “Dean, there’s something I need to tell you before you go,” I whispered.

 “What is it?” He asked, his eyes never wavering away from me.

  My palms felt sweaty and my throat felt drier than I had ever felt before. Taking a deep breath, I faced him and smiled. I chickened out.

  “I’m going to miss you.”

  I went to go back to my room, but Dean grabbed my wrist stopping me from leaving. I clenched my fist tight and turned around, not ready to face him because I knew he could read my face like a book. He stood there holding my arm, not tight but not lightly so I would stay there.

  “That’s definitely not what you were going to say,” he said, “tell me.”

  With a final deep breath, I nodded my head, “I love you.”

  His eyes widened and he dropped my hand, letting it drop to my side. I felt it sway before coming to a slow stop. Then I held it to defend myself.

  “I’m not saying this to break you and Lisa up,” I said, “I want you to go with her and be there for Ben. But I also wanted to let you know, in case we never saw each other again.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” He croaked, and I thought that I could see tears in his eyes.

 I could only shrug my shoulders, “with everything going on, it just didn’t feel right. And then you wanted to go live with Lisa after Sam was gone so I just never told you.”

   Our conversation was interrupted by Ben and Lisa running into the kitchen, Bobby walking behind them, and embracing Dean. They were happy that he had come home with hardly any injuries. Dean wrapped his arms around them both but he was staring at me. I smiled sweetly, holding my hands in front of me while watching them be reunited. Lisa and Ben were ready to go home with Dean, and even though I knew Dean wanted to stay and talk more about what I had just confessed, I helped push him out the door. If he stayed any longer, I was definitely going to want him to stay forever. But I couldn’t be selfish. Sam, Bobby, and I stood at the front door and waved as the three of them drove off. When they were out of sight, my hand dropped. I felt Bobby place his hand on my shoulder and look at me with understanding.

  I wasn’t sure when the next time I would see Dean again, but I knew that it wasn’t going to be any time soon. And if I was being honest, I didn’t want to see him again. He needed to be with Lisa.

[aellynera]

Accidental Anniversary (Llewyn Davis x Reader)

ACCIDENTAL ANNIVERSARY

💜💘 Happy Valentine’s Fic Exchange, @samrockweil​ 💘💜

I am your Valentine’s elf (or maybe cupid?) It was an absolute blast writing this for you!! At first I couldn’t decide which guy to write for, but Llewyn spoke to me and I ran with it and I hope you love it even half as half as much as I did writing it. Happy reading and happy beeps!

Also, huge thanks to @sergeantkane​ for putting this fic exchange together! Love you Clarke!

Word Count: around 8k oops look i had a whole MONTH okay i’m not sorry

Summary: You meet Llewyn Davis one night at the Gaslight, and soon find out that the universe has an odd sense of humor and an even weirder sense of timing.

Warnings: A few curses. Nothing else, it’s 99.999999999% fluffy fluff.

March 14

The air inside the Gaslight is thick with smoke that coils and kinks around the dim lights on the walls and the candles on the tables. Someone at the end of the bar calls out for a whiskey, which you pour and pass down. The sound system shrieks with feedback for three painful seconds as your boss flips the power on.

You’ve been working there for a couple weeks, a side job to help make your rent and keep you busy on the weekends. It’s not a terrible gig, most of the time; the patrons are pleasant enough, the performers hit or miss, and Pappi, your boss, is okayish, so long as you can mostly steer clear of him.

You begin to wipe down part of the bar while the next performer sets up on the small, dingy stage. You haven’t seen him before, but whispers from the stools at the counter hint he’s semi-popular around these parts. You quirk an eyebrow; he certainly is easy on the eyes, at least.

From the minute he takes the stage, your focus is ninety percent on him (you do need a little brain power to do your job, after all) and you find that he is also very easy on the ears. Dark curls, dark beard, dark eyes, dark clothes, but a surprisingly bright voice singing lovely songs. He finishes his set, comes off the stage, and sidles up to the bar. You hand him the requested bourbon with a soft smile.

And the next thing you know, Pappi is on the ground and this stranger is holding his hand, wincing, flexing his fingers. Your mouth drops open.

“Oh my god!” you cry. “What--”

“Jesus Christ, Llewyn,” Pappi groans from the floor. “I was only kidding.”

“Yeah, doubt that,” this Llewyn person mutters under his breath, taking a seat on the stool closest to him. “Can I bother you for some ice?”

You keep a wary eye on him, and on Pappi as he gets up and wanders to the other side of the room like nothing happened, and wrap some ice cubes in a towel and hand it to him. “You decked him.”

He scoffs and takes a sip of his drink. “You hear what he said about you?”

Well, no, you hadn’t actually, but having heard what Pappi has said about others in the club over the past two weeks, you can imagine. “I can handle him,” you say archly.

“I’m sure you can,” a huff of air escapes his lips, “but you shouldn’t have to.” He turns around to look at Pappi, who just glares and shakes his head. The man in front of you flips your boss off.

You refill his glass without him asking and stick out your hand, telling him your name.

He shakes it and says, “Llewyn Davis” with a sheepish smile.

April 14

Llewyn shuffles down the sidewalk towards the Gaslight, really only noticing the early spring chill that hangs in the air. It’s early, before noon, but he wants to run through his set before the night’s performance and the early hour is convenient for him to be able to do so in peace.

He’s about a block away when a sound distracts him. A voice is singing, pure and sweet - if a tiny bit off-key - and if he didn’t know any better - and he certainly does, at least most times - he would call it angelic. No, not angelic. An actual angel. That’s what it sounds like.

Llewyn stops and looks up at an open window on the third floor. He can make out the vague outline of a figure inside, but he’s unable to see any details. But that voice. A few minutes pass as he just listens, staring up at the window, thinking about calling up to get the attention of the mysterious singer. But he doesn’t, and he just stands and listens, until he finds his feet starting to carry him on to his usual destination. 

Three steps into his walk, he realizes he knows the song. It’s one of his songs. Part of him can’t believe it, and the rest of him wants to offer pitch correction. Three more steps into his walk, and his face makes very solid, very resounding contact with the light pole on the corner.

“God dammit,” he shouts.

A few seconds later, the window on the third floor slides open and a head pokes out. “Oh my god. Llewyn?”

Llewyn looks up and groans inwardly as he recognizes your face from that last gig at the Gaslight. “Hey,” he waves awkwardly, leaning on the pole.

“Are you bleeding?” you call down to him.

He reaches up near his eyebrow and realizes he is, in fact, bleeding. Quite a bit, honestly. Before he can answer, you call back down, “Come up the fire escape to the side window!” The window drops shut and he can hear another slide open.

So Llewyn Davis climbs the fire escape steps and meets you at your side window, a first aid kit in your hands as you motion for him to sit. He does and you start to patch up his wound.

“You should be more careful,” you mutter as you worked, stopping briefly to look him right in the eyes.

He holds your gaze. “Sorry, I was...distracted.”

“Mmm,” you return. You fold a gauze pad and hand it to him. “Hold this on that cut. I’m going to get you some ice.” You turn to walk to your kitchen.

He mumbles his thanks and leans his head back against the fire escape railing.

May 14

You glance back behind the bar, making sure the bottles are stocked and the glasses are ready. Another night at the Gaslight is about to start, and although Llewyn isn’t playing tonight, he takes up a spot at the end of the bar and thanks you as you pass him a drink.

“How have you been?” you ask. You’d seen him a few times over the past couple weeks, here and there in the Village, but it’s been several days. You found Llewyn’s company quite enjoyable. You’d talked a bit and even shared lunch once at the diner a couple blocks away.

His lips turn up, a shy smile lighting his face. He opens his mouth to respond, when another voice breaks in.

“He’s been an asshole.”

Llewyn’s head ships around and you follow his gaze. A slender woman with long, straight brown hair and piercing eyes stands about ten feet behind him, arms crossed and glaring. Neither of them says anything for a beat, Llewyn turns away from her, and then she’s on him, daggers flying from her lips, going on and on about assholes and responsibility and electrical tape.

Llewyn keeps his eyes down, the bottom of his glass suddenly staring back at him. “Jesus Christ, Jean.”

You bite your lip as you glance between them. You have no idea who this woman - this Jean - is, but it’s clear she is not a fan of Llewyn Davis. In three seconds flat you decide you do not like her either.

“Is there something you needed?” you break in.

Her eyes flare at Llewyn, then at you, then bore into the back of Llewyn’s head. You resist the urge to literally toss a glass of whiskey in her direction.

“I need Llewyn to stop being an asshole,” she seethes. Llewyn rolls his eyes.

You arch an eyebrow and the words are on your tongue - I need you to back off, you crazy weird bit-- you bite your tongue just hard enough to make your mouth behave. Fortunately, she’s distracted by someone else calling her name and her attention drifts to the stage. With a final mutter of “asshole” and a rude hand gesture, she flounces off.

You point over Llewyn’s shoulder. “Um, what was that?”

He snorts. “A night of bad decisions and a lifetime of regret.” A pause. “It’s...a long story.”

You watch as she adjusts the microphone center stage. “Good lord, is she a singer? Tell me she’s not going to just smile and sing after...whatever that was.”

“Yeah. Well,” he offers by way of explanation and doesn’t say anything else. It’s almost like this woman sucked all the fight out of him and you feel your heart give a little twinge.

You toss the rag in the sink and take his glass. “Do you wanna get out of here?” The air around you has a weird vibe now, and you felt a sudden impulse to get out and take this man - your friend - with you, away from this...whatever she was, somewhere safe.

“Fuck yes,” he sighs, a grateful glimmer passing through his dark eyes.

“There’s a great cafe down the block.”

“But don’t you have to...you know...work?”

You look around and shrug. “It’s dead in here, and Bobby can handle it,” you hook your thumb at a co-worker behind the bar. “And if Pappi says anything, I know someone who can set him straight.”

Llewyn’s eyes glint and his lips turn up in a real, honest smile this time. “So, coffee?”

“Coffee.”

June 14

The summer - or very last days of spring, technically - is starting to get hot and your open windows are doing the bare minimum to alleviate the warmth. Of course, the third glass of wine you’re drinking probably isn’t helping things either.

Whatever. It’s your day off.

Shoes kicked off, jeans rolled up above your ankles, feet up on the arm of the couch, a record on the turntable and your glass of red as the dusk slowly melts into dark. The night is tranquil and relaxing and perfect. It has been a shitty week, and all you want is to ignore the outside world and do exactly this.

The shrill ring of your phone bursts that bubble..

You close your eyes and tilt your head back on the couch. Ignore it. If you just ignore it, it will go away. The phone stops ringing. Deciding to take no further chances, you switch off the ringer, completely, then sigh happily, settling yourself on the couch and sipping your wine.

Perfect.

A resounding, repeated thump echoes through the room. You bit back a shriek. Ignore it. If you just ignore it, it will go away - lightning can strike twice, right? It was extremely rude of people to just call you and knock when all you wanted was--

“Hey, are you home?” a muffled voice comes from the other side of the door.

Suddenly alert and somehow much less annoyed, you spring up and cross to your front door. Yanking it open, you find a very disheveled Llewyn Davis on the other side. He doesn’t seem to notice right away that the door was now open, and you had to jump back as his hand, raised to pound on the door again, almost knocks you in the head instead.

You take a deep breath. You catch a waft like the mat under the taps after a long night at the bar.

“Shit,” he mumbles. “Sorry.”

“Are you drunk?” You take him by the arm and drag him inside, appraising him quickly. His eyes are glassy, red-rimmed, his curls an absolute mess, and there’s a dark mark under his left eye and a split in his lip. He looks terrible, smells just as bad, but suddenly all your desire for a quiet, no-other-humans night evaporates. “And did you get in a fight?”

“...yes?”

You sigh and point to the couch. “Go. Sit. I’ll make some coffee, and then you’re getting a shower..”

“You’re incredible,” he slurs, smiling, “And you’re so…I tried t’call you, from th’phone on the corner but you dinnt answer. An’ then I realized, hey, I’m on your corner, so decided t’come up and see you. You’re pretty.”

You take him by the elbow and lead him to the couch, only stumbling twice and managing to catch him as he sways, precariously, once. “Uh huh,” you bite your lip to hide a smile. “Sounds like you’ve had a fun night. You wanna talk about it?”

“Nope.” He flops down on the couch and buries his face in a pillow.

By the time you make the promised pot of coffee and get back to the living room, Llewyn is snoring, still face down in the throw pillow. Turning off the music and the lights, you cover him with a blanket and take your glass of wine to your room.

July 14

Ring, ring, ring.

You’d remembered to turn the ringer back on three days after Llewyn slept it off on your couch, but your phone hadn’t actually rung again until just over half an hour ago, and honestly you weren’t sure if that was a blessing or if it was just sad.

You are sure, however, that the sheer desperation in the voice on the other end when you answered is the reason you’re on this train to Queens. Are you doing anything, Llewyn had asked, because I could really, really use some help right now. Please, I’m begging you. And now the echo of your phone ringing just, well, rings in your ears.

The train screeches to a halt and you exit, making your way to the given address. You knock on the door of a smallish, nondescript row house and it swings open almost immediately, revealing a very disheveled, slightly panicked looking Llewyn.

“Oh, thank fuck,” he breathes and grabs you by the arm, dragging you inside.

“Llewyn? What is going on?”

“It’s a disaster,” he says. He’s completely serious.

You’re preparing yourself for blood, broken bones, water damage, collapsed ceilings, possible dismemberment, anything, really, that could explain your friend’s current frazzled condition. What you get is completely, unexpectedly, not anything like that.

There are about ten kids, all around ten years old, running around in the living room, which is also full of balloons and streamers. One giant pinata, shaped like a baseball glove and bat, hangs from the light fixture. To Llewyn’s credit, it is kind of...chaotic, but it’s far from a disaster and you can barely contain the guffaw that escapes your lungs.

“Whose birthday?” you grin at him.

He narrows his eyes at you. “It’s not funny.”

You consider this and try to straighten your lips. Nope, not working. “It’s a little funny.”

Llewyn smacks you lightly on the shoulder. “It’s my nephew’s birthday, and my sister forgot some party thing and made a run to the store. I was stayin’ here last night and she just decided, oh, Llewyn can watch the kids, and she was gone.”

“So what’s the problem, exactly?”

“She should be back by now,” his eyes look slightly panicked.

“Maybe she had to go to a couple stores? Maybe she just got delayed by transit?”

“I can’t do…” Llewyn gestures around weakly, shaking his head. “This.”

“Llewyn, they’re kids. They can’t be more than what, ten years old? Just blindfold them and let them whack at the pinata.”

“You’re the people person. I can’t...can you help me, please,” he turns to look at you. Directly at you. You’re fairly certain his eyes cannot get any bigger or shine more pleadingly.

“Fine,” you sigh. “Let’s go wrangle some kids.”

The panic slides from his face and to your surprise, he throws an arm over your shoulder and kisses the top of your head in his thanks.

And when one kid takes a wild swing at that tacky papier-mache sports equipment, misses completely, and lands a clean hit on Llewyn’s thigh, neither of you talk about it.

You just get him an ice pack.

August 14

“I’m making lasagna. Come over for dinner.”

You worked early that day, and said this to Llewyn as you left the Gaslight for the day. He isn’t playing tonight, and he’s really just here to stay out of the sun, and as much as he doesn’t like to push his luck with others’ hospitality, he has to admit that a home-cooked meal does sound incredible.

He has a feeling your invitation was partly due to Jean showing up, ready to do unnecessary verbal battle because she just can’t let it go, and you’d asked to both deflect her and keep yourself from actual physical battle. But whatever.

So he finds himself at your front door a couple hours later, a bottle of cheapish red wine in hand and an odd tingle in his chest. He dismisses it offhand; he’s probably just hungry.

You open the door and Llewyn’s nose is assaulted by the smell of homemade sauce - he’s half Italian, he knows these things - and cheese and garlic. You smile brightly at him. Yeah, he’s definitely hungry.

“Hey! Come in, it’s almost ready.”

He hands you the bottle. “Brought wine.”

“Excellent,” you lead him to the kitchen table and motion to a seat. He settles himself into it and grabs a piece of bread from the basket on the table as you grab two wine glasses.

“What’s the occasion?” he asks around a mouthful of carbs.

The timer dings and you pull the lasagna out of the oven. “No occasion. I just felt like making this and I didn’t really want to eat alone.”

“Lucky for you I like to eat,” he chuckles.

Your face suddenly feels warmer. Well, you did just pull a piping hot casserole dish out of the oven, so that does make sense, you suppose. You turn and put the lasagna on the trivet in the middle of the table, then turn and grab two regular glasses for water. There is an outlandish, metallic ka-chunk-ing noise as you turn on the tap, and suddenly water is shooting from under the sink and halfway across the room.

Llewyn jumps up and dives at the faucet, a chunk of bread clutched between his teeth, at the same time you crawl halfway under the sink to try and shut the water off. The stream blasts you in the face and you sputter.

This is not how you imagined tonight. Blasted ancient, rickety building. You make a mental note to have words with the super tomorrow.

You finally get the water shut off, and Llewyn closes the tap and sinks down onto the wet floor next to you. You lean against the cabinets and try to wipe the water out of your eyes.

Llewyn fares a little better; he’s only wet from his waist down. Your head thumps back on the soaked particle board behind you and you turn your head towards him. For a long moment he looks back at you, then rips the butt off the hunk of baguette in his mouth and passes it to you.

You snort. He bites his lip.

“Sorry, I think dinner might be a bit late,” you deadpan, eyes still on him, and take a bite of bread.

He bumps your shoulder with his. “It’s okay. Lasagna is always better the next day.”

Llewyn has to admit, though, it’s still pretty good a couple hours later, after you’re both dry and the lake in the kitchen is mopped up and you settle on the couch with your plates.

And if you use the water glasses for the wine, well, neither of you mentions it.

September 14

It’s pleasantly warm today, the heat of late August dragging itself into the beginning of September, and you find yourself in Washington Square Park, on a checkered blanket, a basket in the middle and a guitar by your feet. Pigeons wander and plot to steal food, but it’s easy enough to shoo them away.

It takes a little convincing, early that morning, to get Llewyn to agree to join you. It didn’t, really; he’s quickly become one of your best friends, and he doesn’t have anywhere else to be, he just likes to tease you.

But he does accept, and you eat some of the bread and cheese you packed and drink the iced tea you brought, and you get out a container of fruit salad and package of cookies your down-the-hall neighbor, Mrs. Peterson, made for you that morning.

“For you and your lovely man,” she’d said as she knocked on your door. You feel the warmth in the tips of your ears and you certainly see the color rise in Llewyn’s embarrassed face, but you don’t have the heart to correct her. She’s such a sweet old lady.

Llewyn plays a song or two while you enjoy your lunch, and even asks if you want to hear a new song he’s been working on, which you are more than happy to agree to.

It’s such a pleasant afternoon.

Until a small, brownish-gray blur jumps onto the blanket and grabs a chunk of bread and darts further onto the lawn.

“What the hell!’ Llewyn shouts as you yelp in surprise. The squirrel, for its part, just stops fifty feet away and turns back with a triumphant gaze, then scoots off into the bushes, leaving a trail of breadcrumbs in its wake.

He starts to make a comment about the nerve of the wildlife, but you’re not really listening. Your eyes are fixed on the path the squirrel just ran and you tug on Llewyn’s sleeve. He keeps muttering and you tug harder.

“Llewyn.”

He finally looks up and follows your finger. There’s a flock - an honest-to-god flock, not that he has any real idea on the technical makeup of a flock, but there’s more than one so as far as he’s concerned, yeah, it’s a flock - of geese marching directly at the blanket.

Okay, so there’s only three of them. But they look angry.

The leader strides forward deliberately and bites at Llewyn’s shoe. Another yelp leaves your lips and he grabs your hand, pulling you to your feet. He also grabs the remainder of the bread and tosses it in the opposite direction as he takes off running towards the fountain, dragging you behind him.

“Where are we going?” you shout.

“No idea,” he replies. The leader falls for the bread feint, but his loyal minions do not, and they follow behind you, quacking and honking and flapping and Llewyn isn’t sure but he may dislike geese even more than he dislikes pigeons.

He jumps up on the edge of the fountain and pulls you into a protective embrace as the beasts close in. Only Llewyn doesn’t account for, you know, physics, and the force of your bodies colliding sends you both straight into the water.

Spluttering, you try to wipe the water out of your eyes. Llewyn is doing the same when a loud HONK startles you both. The leader is back, flanked by his friends, and they’re all staring at you.

“Um, Llewyn?” you whisper.

“Yeah?”

“...don’t geese like, love the water?”

His eyes flick to you, then the winged monsters, then you again, then the fountain like he’s seeing it for the first time and all he can do is mutter, “Shit!” and grab your hand as he pulls you to your feet and takes off running again.

You manage to swing by and gather the leavings of your picnic, blanket and basket tucked under your arms and his precious guitar clutched to him, as you beeline out of the park, soaking wet and laughing.

October 14

Llewyn slides the key into the lock and turns it, an odd flutter rolling up his spine as he hears the bolt click open. He’s had a key to your apartment for almost two months now. You gave it to him, insisted really, telling him this way he wouldn’t need to worry about finding somewhere to crash. That your couch is always open.

It still doesn’t feel real and he doesn’t always use it, but tonight he really, really doesn’t feel like making the rounds. You’ve been spending more time together recently anyway, and he feels mostly comfortable around you.

He’s greeted by the sight of you wearing a catcher’s mask and knee high rubber boots, and you’re wielding a tennis racquet. He doesn’t know what to say for a full minute.

“What are you...why are you wearing...what the hell.”

“There’s a bat,” is your whispered response.

Llewyn’s nose scrunches and he isn’t any less confused than he was a second ago. “What?”

“There’s a bat,’ you repeat. Your voice is slightly on the edge of hysteria because, well, “there is a bat. In the bathroom.”

“...okay?”

You jab your finger at the closed door. “I was just going to wash my face and brush my teeth and I went in there and it was just...in the corner, by the shelves. It was staring at me.”

He bites his lip, trying his hardest to suppress the smile tugging on his face. It isn’t working. He drops to a whisper himself and asks, “Baby, why are you whispering?”

Your head jerks towards the bathroom, and your shrug nearly sends the tennis racquet into his shoulder. “Because that’s how they...they’re...how they do the...the bat hearing thing!”

Llewyn laughs fully. He can’t help it; you’re ridiculous and his face heats a bit as he realizes it’s entirely endearing. “I don’t think that’s how it works,” he says, his voice sliding back to a whisper. He avoids your death glare as he makes his way to the bathroom door. “But sit tight, slugger, I’ll get rid of it.”

“What’re you gonna do?”

Hand on the doorknob, he pauses and considers this. “Just gonna encourage it to go home? I dunno.”

Your grip tightens on the racquet. “How will that work?!”

“I don’t know! I’m not a fucking bat!” he hisses at you. “Just, make sure a window is open.” He opens the bathroom door.

Several things happen at once. Llewyn doesn’t so much open the door as he flings it wide and it slams into the wall. The bat makes a squeaky-shrieky noise (you were entirely unaware, until now, that they could even do that) and swoops out, recklessly streaking through Llewyn’s mess of curls. You make an actual shriek and fling the side window open as wide as possible. Llewyn makes a sound he can’t describe and you’re honestly not sure if it was Llewyn or the bat. The bat decides to take a few laps around the living room and you duck under the window sill just before it mercifully decides that outside is the place to be. Llewyn slams the window shut and you spring back to your feet, crash into his chest and his arms wrap around you.

Neither of you say anything, and Llewyn isn’t sure how much time passes, but he’s very aware of your hand running through his hair, and your soft words catching as you say you’re just trying to smooth out the bat damage.

He clears his throat. “I, uh, I’ll keep watch out here, make sure that thing doesn’t come back,” he jokes. “You okay?”

You finally - finally, he cheers internally - take off the catcher’s mask and nod slowly. “Yeah, I’m...good. Thanks for...thanks.”

Llewyn lets you go and takes the tennis racquet out of your hands, placing it next to the couch. He throws you a soft smile. “Just in case.”

November 14

It’s been a long night at work, a lot longer than it has any right to be and infinitely insufferable. The Gaslight is packed, patrons nearly crawling the walls and not an empty seat to be found. Drink orders stack up and you try to keep up. It’s so crazy that even Pappi doesn’t have a chance to be a smartass like usual.

Apparently it always gets like this, closer to a holiday.

Note to self - skip holidays.

There are two acts tonight. Llewyn is first, and it’s clear much of the crowd is here to catch him. It cheers you slightly, and it would certainly cheer you more if you had the time to pay more attention to him, but the constant call for whiskey and gin takes most of your focus. But for the time he’s on stage, your heart feels lighter.

Then the second act takes the stage, and Jean launches eye missiles at Llewyn from behind the microphone, and your mood sours instantly.

Yeah, it’s a very long night.

Everything is blurry for the rest of the evening, until last call mercifully rolls around and you can finally get to straightening out the mess the bar has become. You notice Llewyn still sitting on his usual stool at the end of the counter, worrying his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Don’t even say it,” you point at him sternly. “When will you stop fussing about this?” Ridiculous man. He has a key to your apartment, and still he worries that he’s an inconvenience.

You toss an orange slice at him, and he allows you a sweet grin.

Finally - finally - you’re home and Llewyn follows you inside, locking the door behind you. He heads for the couch and you head for your room, a mumbled g’night the only word that passes between you. You’re far too exhausted to deal with anything higher level.

It could be minutes or it could be hours later - your alarm clock somehow ended up on the floor and the darkish sky outside giving nothing away, and when did it start raining anyway - when a loud SPRONG and then a yelp and a THUMP from the living room jolts you awake.

It takes a few seconds to regain your senses. “Llewyn?”

“Fuck.”

You stumble out to the living room to find him half-sitting, half-sprawled on the floor, the quilt he normally uses tangled around his knees and ankles. He rubs a spot on his lower back and winces.

“Llewyn! What happened?” you cry.

He points to the middle cushion and you see something sticking up from the padding.

“Oh, Llewyn, jesus. I’m so sorry,” you apologize. You really do feel terrible; your couch hasn’t been in the best shape for ages, and it looks like the squeaky spring you noticed a few weeks ago finally gave up and poked it way through. And stabbed Llewyn in the back as he slept. Damn it. 

“It’s...it’s fine,” he tells you, still wincing. “I can turn the other way, or sleep on the floor. Not a big deal.”

You shake your head. “Yes big deal. My couch just stabbed you, and it’s cold outside, you can’t sleep on the floor.”

“S’fine. Not the first time I ended up on the floor.”

You make up your mind before you even think about it and reach your hand out to him. “Come on,” you wiggle your fingers. “Come to bed.”

Llewyn’s eyes go wide and he opens his mouth to protest, but your look is so firm that he relents with a soft sigh and extricates himself from the blanket. He follows you to the bedroom and asks, no less than seven times, if you’re sure this is okay and says he really has no problem sleeping on the floor. You eventually tell him to shut the hell up and get under the covers.

You both lay on your sides, facing each other, but keep a space between you. Llewyn still looks mildly uneasy but relaxes as you smile at him and the warmth of your duvet and the softness of your pillows pull him under.

“Good night again, Llewyn,” you whisper.

“Good night again,” he replies with a soft yawn.

The rain steadily patters on your window and the sky slowly lightens as morning breaks and you languidly wake, curled into Llewyn’s chest, his arms secure around you.

December 14

Snow falls lightly outside, coats the grass and sticks to Llewyn’s curls, and his breath swirls and makes curlicues in the chill winter air. It’s two weeks until Christmas, and you decide to put up a tree, a real tree, and you tell him he’s going to help decorate it.

You also tell him that a bunch of your light strings have stopped working, and before you can ask him to run to the shop down the block that sells replacements, he volunteers and is out the door.

He can’t remember the last time he was anywhere with a real tree. It was usually those cheap-looking fake ones, the green plastic branches a color that would never exist naturally, if there were any tree at all.

So yeah, maybe he’s a little excited. He comes up the steps to the apartment, a bag perched in the crook of his elbow as he unlocks the door.

“So I got the lights, like you asked,” he says cheerfully, and sets the bag down on the table by the door.

“Help.” That’s...not the response he’s expecting.

It’s two weeks since the entire living room has been rearranged. The new, non-back-stabbing couch is on the opposite wall. You rearranged all your shelves, got a new armchair, and much to Llewyn’s wary delight and bewilderment, a new side table. The side table has blank sheet music and pens and there’s a guitar stand next to it and he doesn’t really know what to make of it. You just smile and tell him he needs a space to be himself, whatever that means.

The newly-opened space under the window is where the tree is going. Or, should be going. Llewyn looks down at the toppled fir and sees a foot sticking out near the trunk.

“Sweetheart? What happened?”

Your voice answers from beneath the branches. “Can you just help get this off me, please?”

Llewyn rights the tree and turns his head to check on you. He’s more concerned about you than the tree, of course, but he wants to make sure it doesn’t take you out again so he secures it to the stand as he takes you in. Thankfully you look fine, a few needles stuck to your sweater and a tiny scratch on your cheek, but otherwise…

He tries to stifle a laugh. “You’re looking very festive.”

Your eyes narrow. “Go ahead and ask,” you bite out, “because I know you’re going to ask.”

“I already did ask, before I had to be your lumberjack.”

You refrain from telling him that lumberjacks fell trees, not upright them. Whatever. You motion your head to the shiny silver tinsel wrapped around your torso. You can’t use your hands, really, and you’re not sure how they got tied up in this mess, exactly, but here you are, sitting on your living room floor in a pile of pine needles, trussed like a Christmas goose in sparking silver twine.

And your best friend is laughing at you. Jerk.

“I was trying to get this around the top part, and I lost my balance. Then like an idiot I tried to catch myself on the tree, and the whole damn thing went down with me,” you sigh. “I don’t even know how the rest of this tangled mess happened.”

He does laugh now, full and rich. “I was only gone for like, twenty minutes.”

“Yeah, yeah. Um, can you maybe...untie me?”

“Oh! Wait, here, I got something else,” Llewyn jumps to his feet. He ignores your request and pokes around in the shopping bag.

“If it’s not chocolate, I don’t want to hear about it,” your grumbled response brings another laugh.

Llewyn’s back in front of you seconds later, holding a small white cluster above your head. The grin on his face is equally charming and infuriating.

“You have got to be kidding me,” you blink at him.

“I mean, I was just gonna, y’know, hang it above the door later and let it happen, but now seems like a better time for some Christmas cheer.”

“I think you’re pretty satisfyingly cheerful right now, idiot.”

He waves the mistletoe over your heads. “Come on. It’s tradition.”

One day, maybe you’ll be able to stop sighing in his presence, but today is not that day. You sigh again, roll your eyes, and lean in, planting a soft kiss on his cheek and delighting in the shade of crimson he turns in response. He clears his throat and places the mistletoe to the side.

“Now will you untie me?” you ask, sugar-sweet.

He does, and helps you get the tinsel where it’s supposed to go and you spend the rest of the afternoon decorating the tree and drinking hot cider.

Llewyn sings you more than one Christmas song to make up for all the teasing.

January 14

It seems like a good idea at the time. One of your friends at your actual day-to-day job offers to set you up with another coworker, and it’s been ages since you went on a date and you figure, why not? What could possibly go wrong?

It turns out the answer is, a lot. A lot can go wrong. So much that you don’t even want to think about it.

Okay, that’s not entirely true. There is no chemistry, no spark, just an hours-long recitation of how your date is god’s gift to pretty much everything under the sun and possibly also the moon. The name-drops are just the cherry on top.

Maybe your first impression isn’t wrong after all.

You trudge up to your apartment, the bag of your favorite takeout under your arm filled to nearly bursting, and get the door open. All you want to do is stuff your face and maybe take a long, hot bath with a glass of wine. Yes, that sounds perfect.

The melody of a strumming guitar stops as you place the bag on the side table and shimmy out of your coat. The lamp in the corner is the only illumination and you tilt your head towards the armchair’s occupant. You’re surprised that he’s there, but only because he was supposed to be somewhere else tonight. Knowing he wouldn’t be around was at least...half the reason you agreed to this stupid date in the first place.

“Aren’t you supposed to be on a date tonight?” Llewyn asks in a low voice through the dim light.

“Aren’t you supposed to be playing at the Gaslight tonight?” you retort, brow raised.

He shrugs. “Might have had a few too many an’ said some things. Might’ve gotten thrown out.”

“Mmm,” you appraise him. He just looks the same way you feel; ridiculously tired. Exhausted. “Might’ve told my date I had to use the restroom but… maybe didn’t mention I meant the one at my house.”

“That bad?” Despite his snort, Llewyn sounds genuinely curious.

You sigh as you flop down on the couch and hold up the takeout bag. “I’d rather not talk about it. You wanna help me eat this?”

In an instant he’s on the couch next to you and you hand him some plastic utensils and a napkin. You get up and grab two beers. For a while you just focus on eating, passing containers back and forth with occasional comments about the food. Your knees bump sometimes as you each reach for different containers or your drinks.

“So what happened?”

You stab a piece of chicken a bit more forcefully than necessary. “I said I don’t want to talk about it. It was a stupid idea to go on a blind date.”

“Kind of a stupid idea to go on a date at all,” Llewyn replies softly.

“What.” It’s not really a question. You definitely don’t mean it as a question and you vaguely think about throwing an egg roll at him but that would be an honest waste of decent takeout.

“I know what the problem is,” he continues in a normal voice. “It’s the fourteenth.”

You look at him with a raised brow. He has an odd look on his face and you wait a beat before asking, “Okay? And?”

Llewyn also waits a beat before replying and points at you with his fork, a green bean stabbed on the end. You lean forward and pluck it off with your teeth. He needs a moment to clear his throat before he can go on. “It’s the fourteenth,” he repeats. “Don’t know if you noticed, but...well..weird things seem to keep happening. On the fourteenth. Of every month.”

“Huh.” He’s right, now that you think about it. You stab your food again. “What do you think that means?”

Llewyn looks like he wants to say something, like he’s going to say something, but instead he just shrugs. You put the container down and lean back on the couch, swinging your feet into Llewyn’s lap. 

He idly strokes your ankles as his expression grows serious. “I think it means we should not go out on any fourteenths, ever. Just to be safe.”

You poke him with your big toe. “You’re an idiot. There are things that can happen inside. There are things that have happened inside.”

A smirk creeps through his beard. “Shit, you’re right. One-a your crappy novels might fall off the shelf and crack me on the skull.” He pauses. “More run-ins with wildlife? Oh! I know. Squirrels, but this time, in the walls.”

“That’s not funny!” you try to poke him again and dissolve into giggles as he tickles your foot. Your combined laughter ricochets off the living room walls before dissipating back into silence.

This time, you’re clearing your throat before being able to continue. “It’s been a day. I’m gonna go take a hot bath.” You get up and walk down the hall to the bathroom.

“Please don’t fall asleep in the tub!” he calls after you. “Don’t forget what day it is.”

Idiot.

After your bath, you head to the bedroom and find Llewyn passed out on top of the covers. He has a key, and he stays over far more often than not nowadays, and even though he’s been told numerous times since the broken couch that it’s okay if he’d rather sleep in a bed, you don’t mind sharing, he rarely takes you up on that offer. Okay, so this is the first time since the broken couch that he’s even sort of taken up the offer.

It’s been a weird day.

You grab a quilt and curl up on the other side of the bed, pulling it over both of you and snuggling down into your pillow. 

“I wonder what happens on the next fourteenth,” you yawn mutter into the darkness of the room.

You’re asleep, so you can’t notice that Llewyn isn’t, really, and he rolls to face away from you and whispers, “Yeah, me too.”

February 14

The air inside the Gaslight is thick with smoke that coils and kinks around the dim lights on the walls and the candles on the tables. Someone at the end of the bar calls out for a straight bourbon, which you pour and pass down. The sound system shrieks with feedback for three painful seconds as Pappi flips the power on.

You glance back behind the bar, making sure the bottles are stocked and the glasses are ready. Another night at the Gaslight is about to start, and Llewyn isn’t playing tonight, and he hasn’t shown up yet, which is strange.

Another thing that’s strange? This weird feeling of déjà vu.  Whatever, you’ve been working more nights at the club recently, and they’re all starting to blend together.

“Your friend’s out back,” Pappi’s voice breaks into your thoughts as he sidles up to the bar and leans back on it.

“My friend?” you ask, confused.

Pappi shrugs. “Said he was a friend of yours. Dark curly hair, worn corduroy jacket, always looks tired or pissed off or both.”

Your expression doesn’t change. “Wait, why is...did he get the crap kicked out of him again?”

“Nah,” Pappi shakes his head. “At least, maybe not yet. Anyway, I dunno, he just asked me to tell you he was outside. I don’t know what the hell he’s up to.” He nods his head towards the back exit and turns to tend to the bar.

Strange.

You duck your head out the door and glance up and down the alley. You see nothing except the usual debris; trash containers, the dumpster, the rusty drain pipes that run down from the gutters, weathered fire escapes. Something skitters off at the far end and disappears between the buildings. Was that a raccoon?

You snort a laugh as you recall Llewyn’s jab about wildlife run-ins. It would be something that happens, in a dark alley behind a basket house in Greenwich Village on the fourteenth of…

Oh. It is the fourteenth.

“Hey,” a familiar voice calls from the head of the alley.

Llewyn stands there, leaning against the brick, dark curls and worn corduroy and all. He holds a single yellow rose in his hands. He looks incredibly nervous, enough to match you looking incredibly confused.

You step fully outside and the door clicks shut behind you. “Hi?”

“Uhm, this is for you,” he says, awkwardly holding the rose out. “Saw a guy selling ‘em a few blocks down, thought you might like it.”

“Thank you? But what’s the occasion?” Why is everything coming out as a question? Even that.

He bites his lip. “You don’t know what today is?”

“Yeah, it’s the four---” Oh. Oh. 

“You wanna get out of here? Have dinner with me, maybe?” Llewyn rubs the back of his neck. It’s a nervous habit you’ve seen him done countless times, usually when he’s thinking about something serious and… Oh.

You twirl the rose in your fingertips and don’t quite meet his eyes. “I thought you said maybe we shouldn’t go out any fourteenths.”

He chuckles. “Yeah, well. Um, I don’t know if you also noticed, along with this whole fourteenth business, but I...I really like spending time with you, just hanging out with you, and...I don’t know. Maybe it’s stupid, but I thought maybe we could, y’know, have a non-weird fourteenth day of the month for a change.”

He’s rambling and it’s adorable. You hum softly. “...on Valentine’s Day.”

Llewyn’s hands twitch in his pockets. “Well...yeah. I mean, I like spending time with you, but...I also like you. So why not?”

He has a point. And really, now that one of you has said it out loud, you really can’t deny it. All the time spent together, all the shared meals and drinks and late-night talks on the couch and letting him basically move into your apartment...it’s no secret, you realize, it never really was, how close you’ve become over the past many months. How easy it is with him. How natural it is.

All the times he helped you. All the times you helped him. All the times you were together, just being.

The fourteenth of the month be damned.

You pretend to think about it for a little longer than necessary as Llewyn watches you anxiously. “Well, I do have to work, you know.”

“I already asked your boss,” he shakes his head, “and he was more than willing to agree. Something about not getting a black eye on your behalf tonight.”

Your laugh rings out into the street. “But it is the fourteenth. What if one of us gets food poisoning or chokes on dessert or something?”

“Vomit doesn’t bother me and I know the Heimlich,” he smirks. “And I’m already asking you out in a dark alley in the Village, how much weirder can it get?”

“You make a fair point, Llewyn Davis.”

He extends an elbow and a hopeful smile.

If he notices, as he brushes his lips on your knuckles as you take his offered arm, that your breath catches and your heart rate increases, he doesn’t let on.

But later that night, as he trails kisses along your jaw and down your neck and asks you what you want to do on the next fourteenth, well, Llewyn Davis definitely notices then.

~end~

[supernaturallyobsessedchic]

Finding Him

AU!Dean x Reader

Warnings: Kidnapping/taken, angst, mentions/implications of rape, mentions of blood, gruesome I think, maybe. (If I need more warnings, I’ll add them. Not sure what I need for warnings right now) I would recommend to being at least 18 to be safe.

Summary: Dean doesn’t come home from a supply run. Sam and the Reader find the Impala, but no Dean. Who would take Dean? Why? Clock’s ticking.

Word count: 2,400-ish

a/n: Inspired by a fic called Lost by @talesmaniac89​, only I switched the roles and the whole premise of the story in comparison.

Finding Him Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Mobile Masterlist

~

His vision blackened by the dark hood that covered his head.

“See boss, I found him, one of the Winchester boys.” A male voice says. As if he were expecting a prize.

“Yes, I see that, you were also to get his little brother you nitwit!” another man shouted.

Dean could hear growls in the distance. Meaning he was dealing with more than just one monster. Also, what kind of monster?

“But doing this draws out his brother. Once he is out and about, I’ll get him.”

“You better, but watch out for his mate. I hear she’s feisty.”

Y/N, they knew her as well. But she was only with the brothers for, not even, 6 months now.

“Why again are we doing this? Why don’t we just swarm their base now? I mean, we can use his scent to lead us there.” A female voice was heard this time. She sounded rather annoyed by the whole situation.

“Because, it’s her I want.”

“Why?”

“She’s a half-breed. First of our kind. Her mother was human. They say half-breeds are weaker than their pure bred counterpart. But I beg to fucking differ!” the boss man got furious at a memory.

Y/N’s a what? Dean thought. He could only huff against the gag in his mouth that was tapped in by duct tape. His hands were bound by all kinds of bindings. Rope, tape and even chains. These werewolves took precautions to prevent Dean from escaping or fighting back.

Y/N must have done something to piss this guy off. He thought.

“Just bring the other Winchester, Lure this bitch out. I want her now!”

 “Sam, I found the impala but no Dean.” She said into the phone.

“Store clerk said no one was following him in the store. So it must have happened outside of the store on the way home.”

“I don’t like this Sam, who would take him and why?”

“I don’t know. Come swing by, pick me up and I’ll drive Dean’s baby home.”

“Sure thing, then we’ll get hunting for your brother.”

She hung up the phone. She could smell it. It’s faint but it’s werewolf. Maybe it’s time to come clean about her lineage to Sam. It might help in finding Dean.

 “So you’re a half breed. Half human, half werewolf? How’s that possible?” Sam asked. Not a hint of malice in his words, no hint of anger or hostility in his body language.

“My mom was human. My dad was an alpha werewolf. But my mom died giving birth to me. I never really had a mother. But there’s this other pack, my dad went rogue on them when they started killing humans. He’d kill his own members to save humans.” She explained.

“Your dad sounds like a good man.”

“He was. Then his alpha found us. Tried to take me. He fought back. Or, tried to. I managed to get away. But in the woods I could smell my dad’s blood. He kill him. I’m more than sure, he’s the one that took Dean. He’s trying to lure me out.”

“He really shouldn’t underestimate the Winchester way of doing things.”

“What do you have in mind, I do see those wheels in your head turning?” she asked.

“We’ll need Cas’s help. I’ll even see if Bobby or any of the apocalypse hunters are up for some fuckery.”

She smiled, what does this guy have in mind, must be awesome.

 Weeks pass.

Sure he’d feed Dean, give him water even. But the alpha has a plan. And it’s not a great one.

He’s building an army.

“It’s my daughter, Alpha. She’s presenting, and I feel she is suitable for bearing a half breed.” Said a woman behind the door.

“Once she is fully presented, we’ll put him to work. And soon she will bear a half breed. Because if that bitch won’t come to me, we’ll come to her, with an army to boot.”

Dean swallowed thickly.

Already several scared girls had come in, he was forced to impregnate these girls. In hopes of making werewolves just like y/n.

He’s not dumb, half breeds are not as weak as people or other monster claim them to be. Because of their human counterparts, they don’t give up.

“How many have we made so far boss?” the same wolf that kidnapped Dean asked.

“9. Nine half breeds. And 5 of us. Two omegas, one beta, and two alphas. The half breeds don’t even need to present. That’s the thing we need to research further.”

“I’m sure our doctors in the sandy hills would love to look at them, and this girl of yours.”

“I’m sure. But, she’s mine. Mine to tame, mine alone. I’ll make an omega out of her.”

“You want to see what offspring you and her would produce?” he asked. Seeing his masterplan now.

“We need an army. Those British hunters already got the drop on us and have killed most of ours. But now, with us being mostly half breeds. We’ll see how much of a match we are to them.”

“Impervious to silver. But they’ll die like any normal human.”

“Maybe so. But we’ll train them in combat. We will win this.”

His comrade nodded.

 A low growl could be heard from y/n as she paced the library.

“Weeks Sam, it has been weeks. We need to find him.”

“I know, Bobby’s trying to round up everyone.”

“I can feel them doing something to him, it’s not good. We need to hurry.”

“Like what?”

“I can’t describe it without making you feel uncomfortable. But it’s not good. Let’s just put it at that.”

Sam’s phone rang. Caller ID, Bobby.

“Hey, Bobby, whatchyou got?”

“Sam, bring your girl and come to our hide out. It’s getting bad out there.”

“Bad, bad how?”

“We’re out numbered. The amount of werewolves is growing. More than what we can keep up with.”

“Okay, we’ll pack what we can and meet you out there.”

Sam hung up.

“What’s wrong?”

“Their numbers are growing.”

“I told you it was bad.”

“What are you saying?”

“He’s making an army of half breeds. Like me. And he’s using Dean to help in that process.”

“You mean, he’s forcing these wolf girls to rape my brother?” Sam asks, growing sickened and angry.

“Yes. Which is why we need to hurry. Let’s just go where we need to go. I’ll tell you what we can do to win.”

 “Great, not only are you like a human, but impervious to silver. So our bullets and knives won’t kill you.” One of the male apocalypse hunters fumed.

“So how do we kill them?” Meg asks.

“Just like how you’d kill any human. An ordinary weapon. But don’t injure them. Or Don’t waste time on the kill. They…we can heal quickly.”

“You have to have some kind of weakness.” Bobby says.

“Well, we’re not totally impervious to silver. I learned that the hard way from you hunters.” She says. “Just before I met Sam and Dean, I ran into a hunter. He learned of what I was. And tried to kill me. His silver blade slashed my arm. I had this nasty looking infection. But really it was poison.”

“Dean brought you back, and we healed you up.” Sam added. She nodded with a sad smile.

“That’s why you didn’t tell us. You were afraid we’d do that to you.” Sam says. She cast her gaze to her feet, fiddling her hands at her waistline. She felt Sam’s hand at her cheek. Coaxing her to look up at him.

“You had our backs, you saved Dean from shifters and wendigos. You saved me from vamps and werewolves. Cas from angels. Hell, even our own mother from a number of monsters. We wouldn’t have hurt you darlin’.”

“When he saved me, Dean. I imprinted on him.”

“How’d you…”

“I’m not sure. He felt safe. I felt safe. It was after he saved me, I’ve been able to feel what he feels. Know exactly where he was. Or is. Some say imprinting anyone, a wolf or human, is done by sex. But we didn’t do anything. He just held me. Safe in his arms.” She explained.

“Could be that. Could be a soul thing.” Bobby says. “Soulmates.”

Sam and Y/N nodded.

A moment passed. Y/N shook her head out of her thoughts.

“We need to get Dean back before the Alpha kills him. When he deems Dean no longer useful. I can, feel him. He does feel far. But I’m sure I can find him.”

“Well, let’s do this. Bobby, you, and the hunters try to get their numbers down. Kill as many as you can. Y/N and I will get Dean out of there. Then after—”

“I’m killing that Alpha, once and for all. More lives are in danger with him alive.” She growled.

Sam could only nod.

 A shot rang out.

“All the guards outside are half breeds. Aim for the head.” She ordered the hunters that came along.

Shot after shot rang out.

She took in their scent. They weren’t that old, freshly presented. She stared at them in confusion. Half breeds don’t present. Unless a certain gene allows them to present or not enough research went into half breeds.

“Sam, you and I we need to move in. now.” She ordered. Sam nodded.

“Keep them from entering.” She told the hunters.

“Sam, let’s go!”

And they ran their way inside.

 “Get the human!” the alpha ordered.

Dean, looking a bit rough from weeks and weeks of rough sex, little food and water and no sleep. The wolf picked him up by the collar, Dean grunted against the motion as his hands were bound behind his back since the day they brought him in here. His wrists have been cut up and bloodied from his struggles.

“I’d be happy to rip his heart out for ya boss.” He sneered.

“NO!” The alpha shouted.

The wolf shuddered.

“He’s mine.”

He threw Dean at the Alpha’s side.

Dean landed on his side with a hard thud and grunt. He was too weak to play the tough guy. Too weak to give a witty comeback.

He just laid there, waiting for his death.

 Sam, preoccupied by other wolves in the warehouse as Y/N walked into the Alpha’s Domaine. His den, his ‘Throne Room’. He stood on a balcony meant for loading large machinery. It had no railing on one side.

She could smell his blood. Causing a growl to emerge deep within her chest. Her fists clench so hard she could draw blood.

“There she is.” The alpha growled.

“Here I am. Do you want to end this or should I?” she asked. Glaring down at him.

“You dare talk like that to your Alpha?” he growled.

“You are not my alpha, I’m no one’s alpha. You are a murderer.”

“Now, I’d beg to differ on that. You killed your own kind.”

“I have two kinds. Human and wolf. Humans seem a lot better than you.”

He growled at her remark.

“You mean, like this human!” he pulls Dean up by the collar. His sheer strength alone allowed him to hold Dean in the air, hanging him by his collar. He hung him over the ledge with no railing. Intending on letting him either hang to his death or drop him.

Her heart dropped.

Dean kicked, trying to get free. He began gagging for air.

“He’s weak, just like your father was. Your father was infatuated with a human and it weakened him. He was my right hand man!” he shouted.

She tried to keep a good poker face going. But Dean’s eyes began to roll as he was loosing more and more air.

“You are just like him. Infatuated with a human.”

“Let him go.” She says. Demanding.

The Alpha cocked his head, cocking an eyebrow, smirking. Oh, she thinks she’s going to have it easy. He thought.

“Please, I’ll turn myself over to you willingly. But you have to let him go. Alive!” she demanded.

“Hmm, such a tempting offer.” The Alpha says playfully. “But, no. I think I’ll pass.” He says.

He repositions Dean so he could easily wrap his hand around his throat. She could tell he was squeezing the life out of him, he kicked furiously, desperately trying to get free.

I hope this will work. She thought.

She darts, climbing up a stack of crates leading up to the platform.

She managed to get on the platform without him noticing. She could see the color to Dean’s face changing. His eyes rolling.

A fire burned in her eyes. He’s not going to take him from her.

With her claws now drawn, she forces her hand through the Alpha’s back and through his chest.

He can see what looks like silver nails on her claws.

The impact causes him to drop Dean.

He drops on to his back with a hard thud.

The Alpha gags as the poison from the polish is coursing through his veins.

“You really should have taken the deal.” She says. Pulling her hand from his back the Alpha drops dead with a thud. On the concrete ground below.

“Dean!” she gasps. Seeing him not moving.

She rushes to him, cutting him free. She brings her ear to his mouth. He’s not breathing.

“No, no, no. Dean, please.” She begs.

She works him over her shoulder as she get’s him to a more flat surface.

“Dean!” she heard Sam shout.

She laid Dean flat on his back and began doing chest compressions.

“Sam, Bobby, we need to get him help.” She begs as she worked on him.

“Cas!” Sam prays out loud. “Cas, if you hear me please, we need you to save him!”

“Cas!” she adds on. “Please, I can’t lose him!”

“Sam, Y/N.” Cas says behind her.

“Cas, help him.” She begs. Her eyes blurring with tears.

“I will try.” He says.

He places two fingers to his forehead. Only to see limited injuries healed. But Dean took in a deep, much needed, breath.

Cas falls back, weakened.

“I do not have enough grace to heal him completely. My grace has been depleting lately. Once I am fully regenerated, I’ll heal him again.” Cas says.

“Thanks Cas, it’s something.” Y/N says. “Let’s get him home.”

 ~

Part 2

What’d you think? Want more? Let me know either by ask or reblog. Remember, feedback is fuel.

~

Dean Girls:

@pandazombie69​, @luci-in-trenchcoats​, @supernatural-jackles​, @becs-bunker​, @jayankles​, @mlovesstories​, @winchesters-favorite-girl​, @akshi8278​

~

Copying and reposting someone else’s content is plagiarism and illegal. This work is property of supernaturallyobsessedchic. ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. These works contain material protected under International and Federal Copyright Laws and Treaties. Any unauthorized reprint or use of this material is prohibited. No part of these works may be reproduced in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system without express written permission from the author / publisher. An electronic reference link to the original posted work may be provided for purposes of promotion or assistance of publication by the readers discretion, if proper credits are given to the author in the re-post. 2/8/2021

[horrible-writer-rain]

Over the Edge and Under

Summary: The 118's actions have devastating consequences.

Pairing: Evan "Buck" Buckley/Male OC!

Warnings: Suicide, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Depression, Post-lawsuit, Past Abuse in reference to Buck's treatment at the 118

A/N: This is not edited. I wrote this fic at like midnight. I'll post the reactions and aftermath at some point.

He was tired. Tired of the glares and harsh words from the people he called family. Tired of going home to an empty apartment because Luca was overseas on some mission that was classified. Tired of being the man behind when all he wanted was to save people. To do the one thing he was good at. He left a voicemail for Luca and one to both Luca’s twin sister and brother in Texas. His grip is tight on the railing but not from a fear of failing. No, he had resigned himself that he was going to die but only when he’s ready. He hopes Chris will forgive him, but he had written him a letter and had left it on his counter with Carla’s name on it. He knew she would give it to him. Luca would be pissed and heartbroken but he had a good support system in their old team, his family, and his crew in Austin. He had left letters for the crew of the 118 as well. Left them on the counter as well. He had written a letter for every person in his life that he loved. It was up to them if they read it or not.

He lets out a breath when he hears a car stop. “Sir, please step away back over the railing.” He felt like he could cry. He knew that voice. “I’m good right where I am, ‘Thena.” He calls opening his eyes to look down. It was about a 40ft drop into freezing water so if the impact didn’t kill him then the hypothermia and subsequent drowning would. “Buck?” He hears her come closer. “What are you doing here, baby?” She asks and he shrugs. “I’m tired ‘Thena.” He tells her as a firetruck pulls up. “Anyone I can call?” She asks stepping closer and he shakes his head. “Stay where you are ‘Thena.” He warns and she stops moving. “Just you Bobby. Keep the others back.” He hears her speak into her radio. The 118 must have responded. Fuck. It was bad enough that he was going to jump in front of Athena but now his crew. The ones who have thrown insults and petty jabs his way. The ones who had a hand in causing this. His grip loosens and Athena lets out a strangled noise. “It’s Okay, ‘Thena.” He tries to reassure her.

“Why’d you have the rest of the crew stay back, Athena?” He hears Bobby, no captain Nash say his tone weary. He knows exactly when Captain Nash spots him. His breath audibly hitching. “Buck?” The use of his nickname and the concern in his voice has him letting out a harsh laugh. “It’s Buck now, is it?” He says finally turning around to face him. “Buck, you don’t have to do this.” He says stepping closer, but Athena holds her arm out. “Why should I listen to you? You’ve done nothing but belittle me since I got back. This isn’t your house, so I don’t have to follow your rules.” His voice is calm, and he looks over to where Hen, Chim, and Eddie have gotten out of the truck. He can see the horror in Hen’s eyes, and he feels kind of bad. She was the one who he confided in the most about being away from Luca. They had eventually bonded over their similar sexualities and marriages to people of the same sex.

“Eddie get me a harness.” Captain Nash says and he sees Eddie falter for a second before following the order. Chim stands beside Hen watching with wide eyes. No doubt trying to figure out how to explain what happened to Maddie. Hen is gripping her med bag tightly. “Think about the people that love you, Buck. Think about your family.” Captain Nash says and he turns his gaze once more to his captain. “My family consists of Luca Rizzoli and his family.” He says and Captain Nash shakes his head. “You’ve got us Buck.” Eddie says as he hands over the harness to his captain. He lets out another humorless laugh. “I’ve not had you since the bombing. I thought you were my best friend. But friends don’t call each other exhausting or shove them around. Family doesn’t belittle anything that’s ever happened to a member of said family.” Eddie looks guilty at his words. “Captain Nash, I used to think of you as a father figure. Now, I see that your no better than my own damn father who didn’t give a single shit about me. In a way this is your fault. You chose to lie to me about what happened. So the only way I saw to get back to my family was to fight for it. I turned down 7 million dollars to get back to my family. It was never even about the money. I just wanted you back.” He pauses to take a breath before continuing. “I knew it wasn’t going to be easy and I accepted that you all would be mad at me. I just didn’t expect for it to last a few months and involve being assaulted. You chose to leave me as the man behind. At first, I was fine with it. I knew you didn’t trust me. I figured I’d need to earn your trust back, but you never gave me the chance. Then after awhile it just started to hurt. You had taken away my ability to help people in a way I loved. I wasn’t being shot at or have the threat of getting blown up and I wasn’t in some active warzone halfway across the world.” Captain Nash had put on the harness as he was talking but never took his eyes of him.

“Please, let us make this right.” Captain Nash pleads with him, but he shakes his head resolved to do what he had come here for. “Think of Christopher. That kid loves you like you’re his father too. Think of what it will do to him if you die.” Eddie says. “That’s a low blow, Eddie. I did think of him. All the time. I wondered if he had nightmares from the tsunami. Wondered if there was any way I could help him, but you kept me away.” He seethes but his voice is still level. “I’m sick and tired of thinking of and putting other’s before myself. Call me selfish but I just don’t give a shit anymore. I’m tired of being other people’s punching back both physically and emotionally. I’m done.” He sees Hen and Chim start moving toward him. “I’m sorry but I just am.” With those final words he pushes himself away from the railing letting go.

The air is cool against his skin as he falls closing his eyes a thinking of his husband. He can hear the screams of the people he once called family, but the sound disappears as soon as he hits the water and his world fades to black.

The 118 stand shocked as their youngest member just jumped of the bridge. Henrietta Wilson falls to her knees as a broken wail leaves her. Her partner Howard Han stands in total shock trying to make himself believe that the man he considered as a brother has just ended his life. Edmundo Diaz has crumpled to his knees as well sobs leaving him as the reality of what he had done had cost him his best friend and the man his son considers as a second father. Athena Grant stands with her hand over her mouth and tears streaming down her face. It was like May’s overdose all over again but this time she wouldn’t be saving her child. Robert Nash is half leaning over the railing with his arm outstretched for the man that had become like a son to him. Guilt consumed each member of the 118 from their actions in the last few months. Athena’s guilt coming from her failure to save her boy. Each of them wondering how they were going to tell their family and how they were going to tell them it was their fault. How it was their actions that drove him to take his own life. “Get water and rescue down here to search the waters. I want his body recovered.” Captain Nash’s voice is void of any emotion as he gives the command. It prompts the others into action but a cloud now hung over them and its their own fault.

[ponykidcurtis]

let the wolves come crashing through

this was gonna be a joke but i wrote 2k by accident. oops. anyway this is the werepire fic based off of that anon i got a while ago

“Buck,” Eddie says, “Halloween isn’t until next month.”

“Eddie,” Buck parrots, “I’m aware of that fact, thanks.”

They're at the station, settling down after a call. The crew is spread over the couches, taking whatever rest they can before the alarm rings again; and, as usual, that means they devolve into ribbing and jokes at the other's expense. Buck had just finished laughing uproariously at Hen's last quip when Eddie had cut in, and honestly, he's not entirely sure whether or not this is the lead up to a joke.

"Right," Eddie says. He lifts an eyebrow. "So what's with the teeth?" 

Buck blinks at him. "...the teeth?" 

"Yeah," Eddie insists, narrowing his eyes. "It looks like you're wearing fake fangs, or something."

Buck just looks even more confused. He opens his mouth to respond, and Eddie catches another flash of those sharp canines—unnaturally sharp. Like he's wearing some knock-off party store vampire teeth.

Buck gapes for a second, and then intelligently says, "Huh?"

"The teeth, man," Eddie repeats. "Why are they so sharp? What the hell are you wearing them for?" 

Eddie glances at Hen and Chim, and they're both just staring at him. Did they not see it? Why aren't they saying anything? 

"Eddie," Buck says slowly. He still looks so openly, adorably baffled. "...these are just my teeth." 

Eddie stares at him. He stares back. Neither of them blink. 

"I'm so confused," Eddie says finally. "Is this a prank or something?" 

Buck shares a look with Hen and Chim, tilts his head. Eddie looks back and forth between them. And then, suddenly, Buck sits up.

"Oh," he says, like he's just had a realization. "Oh my god, did I not tell you?" 

"Tell me what?" 

Hen snorts, and Buck shoots her a glare. Eddie has no idea what's happening.

"I thought you knew," Buck groans. "This is going to take so much explaining—" 

He cuts himself off and pinches the bridge of his nose. He looks up helplessly at Chim, then at Hen, but they both shrug. 

"You're on your own for this one, Buckaroo," Chim says. Buck sighs.

"Okay, okay," Buck says, and hops to his feet. "Come on."

He grabs Eddie by the wrist and practically drags him from the room, heading for the stairs. Hen and Chimney's laughter follows them from the loft, all the way to the bay doors, and Eddie is still hopelessly lost.

~~~

"Let me get this straight," Eddie says twenty minutes later, leaning back against his seat. "You're...a what?"

They're holed up in the back of the firetruck, for privacy, which is really mostly for Eddie's benefit—Buck knows most people don't react well when informed that their best friend is a so-called "creature of the night" and they didn't notice. It had taken a little demonstration to get Eddie to believe him, believe he wasn't just pranking, and now the poor guy is looking a little shell-shocked. 

"Werewolf-vampire hybrid," Buck explains again, smiling hesitantly. "Uh, the scientific classification is homo lycanthropus vampiris. Or something. Technically." 

"And you've always been that," Eddie says. 

"Yeah," Buck agrees. 

"And you're not just fucking with me," Eddie says again. He still looks unsure of the whole thing. 

"Definitely not just fucking with you," Buck agrees again. 

"Show me again," Eddie demands. Buck does. 

"Okay," Eddie says. He's still staring at Buck like it hasn't quite clicked, like he doesn't understand, but he's nodding. "Okay. I'm, uh—I'm gonna need a minute, I think." 

"Right, yeah," Buck says. "You want me to just…?" 

He gestures at the half-open door of the truck, already climbing out of his seat to head for it before Eddie can even agree. He hops out and shoots a look at Hen and Chimney, who are peeking over the railing of the loft to look down at him. Hen raises an eyebrow, and Buck just shrugs. He glanced back at Eddie, who's staring at his hands with a confused furrow to his brow, then backs away. The guy needs a minute. That's understandable. He needs to process.

And then the alarm rings. 

Buck hoists himself back into the truck on instinct, sliding in next to Eddie like usual. He cringes at the look on Eddie's face and offers, "Sorry." 

Then the others climb in across from them and they're off. They still have jobs to do—processing will have to wait. 

~~~

A few tense calls later, the crew piles back into the station for the end of their shift. Eddie had been quiet since his talk with Buck, and the others had let him be for a time—but now, as they're stripping their gear in the locker room and packing up to head home, he's looking at Buck like he wants to start asking questions.

"So you're like, half vampire, half werewolf, right?" Eddie asks, as the locker room empties out. Buck straightens up with his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. 

"I guess?" Buck shrugs. He's not usually comfortable with all the questions, so he's a little on edge. But this is Eddie, so he'll deal. 

"Does that mean your dad was a werewolf, your mom was a vampire, or something?" 

"Other way around, but yeah." 

"So you were like...a werewolf vampire baby." 

"Yeah?" Eddie zips up his own bag and slings it over his shoulder, heading for the door. Buck follows. 

"I bet you had a crazy biting phase as a kid," Eddie says, flashing a grin. Buck lets out a startled laugh, because that's definitely not the direction he thought this was going to go. 

"Wait, is Maddie—" Eddie starts, and his eyes go wide again. 

"Yes," Buck says before he can finish, "We both are. Did you seriously just not notice?" 

"I'm not exactly the most observant," Eddie grumbles. He unlocks his truck and grabs Buck's bag from him, slinging it into the back seat alongside his own. 

Buck hops into the passenger seat, and it's quiet for another moment as they pull out of the parking lot and onto the road. He fiddles with the radio for a moment, trying to find a good station, but he can see Eddie fidgeting out of the corner of his eye, so he gives up and flips it off again.

"Alright, spit 'em out," Buck sighs, shooting Eddie an unimpressed look. "I know you've got more questions, and your fidgeting is annoying. What do you want to know?" 

"Uh, well," Eddie pauses, then starts again, "They're probably stupid." 

"They usually are," Buck deadpans. Eddie glares at him. "Ask them anyway."

"Fine, but if you laugh at me, you're walking the rest of the way." 

"No I'm not," Buck says, grinning when Eddie lifts a disparaging eyebrow at him, "but continue." 

"Okay, first of all, do you drink blood?" Eddie asks. Buck fights back a smile at the earnest and mildly concerned curiosity in his voice. 

"Sometimes," he answers honestly. "Not always. Bobby's cooking tastes better anyway." 

"Can you turn into a wolf?" Eddie asks, and it seems that now he's started, he can't stop—the questions keep coming. "If you can turn into a wolf, are you like, a vampire wolf? Do you drink wolf blood? Or do you still drink human blood as a wolf? Is it like a video game buff, where you stop being a vampire when you're a wolf? Or are they stackable, so you're both at once? Or—"

"Oh my god, Eddie," Buck cuts him off, unable to stifle his laugh this time. "Did you just compare my life to a video game?"

He was expecting shock, disbelief, maybe even anger, because those would be logical reactions to discovering the supernatural. But really, this response is just so Eddie. 

"Hey! I told you not to laugh," Eddie gripes half-heartedly. "Don't make me stop this car." 

"I'm sorry," Buck gasps out between bouts of laughter. "That's just—you're so ridiculous, I'm sorry—"

He dissolves into laughter again, and Eddie just makes a grumbled noise of indignation. They drive for another block before Buck gets a handle on himself again, enough to actually answer Eddie's questions.

"Okay, okay, I'm good, I'm done," Buck says, shifting in his seat and trying to compose himself. He sits up and holds his hand up, counting on his fingers as he answers. 

"Yes, I can turn into a wolf. No, I don't drink wolf blood. I mean, I guess I could? But I don't have to. I don't even know how that would work," he pauses and considers for a second, before shaking his head and continuing, "anyway, no, I don't drink human blood as a wolf either, but I guess I could do that too. If I wanted. And no, it's not like a video game buff, that's so—"

He snorts again, quickly covering his mouth to stifle another chuckle. "Sorry, sorry, I'm not gonna laugh again, I swear." 

"You can turn into a wolf," Eddie repeats. He's still looking at the road, but his voice is awestruck. 

"Yeah, it's pretty cool," Buck admits, "I'll show you sometime, maybe." 

Eddie goes quiet for a moment, and they're just pulling into his driveway when Buck speaks again. 

"And I'm not 'both at once' or whatever," he explains, "I'm a hybrid. It's like, a third option. An entirely seperate thing." 

"So you're..." Eddie thinks for a moment, "...a vampwolf."

Buck stares at him, face twisted into a mildly offended grimace. "Absolutely not." 

"A vampirewolf," Eddie says, turning to climb out of the truck. 

"No," Buck says. He follows him out, grabbing their bags from the back on his way. 

"Werevampire?" Eddie tries. He pays his pockets for his house key. Buck raises an unimpressed eyebrow at him.

"No," Buck says, pulling the key out of Eddie's back pocket and handing it to him. Eddie smiles gratefully at him and moves to unlock the door.

"Wampire," Eddie says, and Buck just looks vaguely disgusted.

"What are you doing?" 

"Well I can't just call you a hybrid," Eddie tells him, "that sounds too clinical. It's weird. What am I supposed to call you?" 

"Just call me Buck, man." 

"Terrible idea. How about a...vaere-volf," Eddie puts on an over-the-top fake accent, sounding like a character out of an old Dracula movie.

"I hate you," Buck says, and steps inside. "Can we order a pizza?" 

"Yeah, I was thinking of trying that new sauce," Eddie agrees, "with the garlic and chicken? It looked good." 

"Sounds alright," Buck says. "You know I'll eat pretty much anything."

He flops onto the couch and grabs Eddie's laptop, pulling it towards him and flipping it open to make the order. He's just clicking onto the pizza place's website when Eddie suddenly looks up and says, "Hold on." 

"What?" Buck looks up at him. 

"Can you even eat garlic?" Eddie asks. He looks worried, suddenly. "I thought vampires couldn't have garlic? Dogs can't have garlic. Does that apply to werewolves too? Was I about to feed you something you're allergic to?" 

"Slow down, dude," Buck says, trying not to laugh again. "The garlic thing, about vampires, is a myth. I love garlic. I want so much garlic on this pizza. It's fine." 

The honest concern on Eddie's face is a little endearing, if Buck is being honest. He knows Eddie is just asking all the questions so that he can understand, and that's fine. It's nice, even.

"Okay, okay. As long as we're not ordering anything potentially dangerous for…" Eddie pauses, thinking, and then grins cheekily at Buck. "...a were-pire."

Buck just groans. "No."

~~~

Later, as they're finishing up the last slices of pizza and watching the end credits of a Marvel movie scroll across the screen, Eddie turns to look at Buck again.

"Just one more time," he says, "remind me this is really happening." 

"Definitely happening," Buck says.

"Remind me you're not just fucking with me," Eddie says.

"Definitely not just fucking with you," Buck assures him again.

"Okay," Eddie says, and seems to finally settle into the idea. "Can I see the teeth again?" 

AO3 | Ko-Fi

[fics-of-culture]

Rewriting Supernatural: Whiskey Eyes

Summary: Everyone knows the story of Gabriel, but how does that story change when he meets the Winchester’s youngest sister Y/N? Will their love be strong enough to change his fate?

Words: 4,847

A/N: I am reposting all of my old fics because my old account accidentally got deleted.

Tall Tales 2.15

Your brothers had been driving you up the wall ever since the three of you first took on this hunt. Originally, you had come to town looking into a suspicious suicide that looked to be a classic haunting case. But from the moment the three of you had stepped foot into this place, Dean and Sam had been bickering nonstop. Between the arguing and childish pranks, none of you had been able to make any actual progress on the case. Currently, the three of you were sitting in a run down motel room. You and Sam were on the couch, reading up on the case. Dean was moaning audibly on the bed as he ate his chili fries and listened to “Walk Away”. Sam rubs his face, looking exhausted.

“Dude. You mind not eating those on MY bed?” Sam asked irritably, and you just know that another argument would begin any second now.

“No, I don't mind.” Dean pops another fry into his mouth. “How's research going?” Dean asks as he flips through a magazine. You sigh in irritation, frustrated that you and Sammy got saddled with all the homework while Dean sits around eating takeout.

“You know how it's going?” Sam slams his book shut and you prepare for the inevitable shitshow. “Slow. You know how it would go a heck of a lot faster? If I had my computer.” Dean nods and hums at Sam sarcastically. Sam picks up another book and tried to continue research. You’re relieved that Sam decided to let that go.

“Can you turn that down please?” You spoke too soon.

“Yeah, absolutely.” Dean blindly reaches for the radio and intentionally turns up the music.

“You know what?” Sam shouts over the music “Maybe, uh, maybe you should just go somewhere for a while.” Dean shuts the radio off suddenly.

“Hey, I'd love to. That's a great idea. Unfortunately, my car's all screwed to hell.”

“Dean, I told you, I have nothing to do wi—“ A knock at the door interrupts Sam’s thought and you quickly stand to answer the door. You peek out the peephole and you’re relieved to find Bobby standing there. You open the door and pull the older hunter into a tight hug. The man had basically been a father to all three of you for your entire life, and you hoped that, if anyone could, he’d be able to put your brothers in their places.

“Well hey to you too, sweetheart” Bobby says, returning your hug.

“Hey, Bobby.” You hear Sam speaking over your shoulder as you pull away.

“Hey, boys.”

“Hey, Bobby!” Dean says as he stands from his spot on the bed.

“It’s good to see you again so soon.” Bobby says, shooting a confused look between the two boys. It’s clear to Bobby that something is going on here, he just can’t place a finger on what. You shoot him a sympathetic smile as Sam places a hand on the older man’s shoulder. You feel bad about wrapping Bobby up in your family drama, but you know that he’s the only one who’ll be able to sort the boys out.

“Yeah, uh, thanks for coming.” You all walk over to where Dean’s standing. “Come on in.” Sam says.

“Thank god you’re here.” Dean shakes Bobby’s hand, clearly pleased to see the man.

“So, um... what didn’t you wanna talk to me on the phone about?” Bobby asks. Sam launches into an explanation of the case and why it was so urgent that Bobby come to help. You all sit down as Sam begins to recall what happened when you all first went to the campus bar to interview possible witnesses. Predictably, Sam and Dean start bickering back and forth as they both tell their interpretations of the story. At this point, the retelling had veered away from the hunt and was now focused on Dean’s exploits. You didn’t bother to listen, knowing that the truth lied somewhere in the middle of both of their recounting. Bobby shoots you an unbelieving look and you just shrug as if to say ‘That’s pretty much what I’ve been dealing with all week’.

“Right,” Bobby nodded, scrutinizing the two brothers. “And where were you when all this was going down?” Bobby’s focus shifted to you.

“Well, while they were at the bar I thought it might help to check out the front steps of the building where the body was found.”

~~~~~

It’s around evening when you walk up to the front steps of the building, looking for anything that might indicate a possible haunting. The steps had been cleaned recently, all evidence that anyone had ever died here wiped away. Still, you squat down and search around to see if you could find anything that had been missed. You stand again after a few minutes, having found nothing of interest. You look up at the building, trying to figure out which window your victim had fell from. You look back at the front doors when you hear someone step out of the building. A janitor pulls out his keys to lock the door behind him.

“It’s a little too late for classes, Miss.” He says over his shoulder.

“Oh no, I don’t go here. I’m actually a reporter. I’m here to report on professor Arthur Cox’s death.” That seemed to catch the janitors attention. You immediately noticed the odd way that he stared when he turned to get a good look at you. His head was cocked and he watched you with rapt interest. You immediately take note of his breathtaking whiskey colored eyes. You can see them glint even in the ever dimming light.

“Well then,” The man gives you a sly smirk. “Ask me anything.” He walks over to you, leaning on the railing closest to you. He crosses his arms as he waits for you to respond.

“Ask yo- wait did you see something?”

“Did I see something?” He asks jovially. “Honey, who do you think found the body?” You idly think that he seems quite peppy for a man who found a dead body.

“Did you see anything weird that night?” He laughs a bit as you watch him with interest. He could be the break in the case you needed.

“You mean something weirder than a guy falling to his death?” You feel a little silly as he says that. Obviously a dead guy would probably constitute as the weirdest thing a guy like this had probably ever seen.

“Well yeah, I mean anything other than that?” Your statement turns into a question by the end and the janitor chuckles at you again. He seems entertained by your embarrassment.

“Actually...” the man leans in as if he’s about to let you in on a secret. You unconsciously lean in as well, hanging on his next words. “He didn’t exactly go up there alone, if you know what I mean.” You swallowed as you noticed your close proximity to this stranger. You cleared your throat as you leaned back.

“Is that so?” You try to slip back into your ‘professional journalist’ act. But for some reason, it’s difficult around him.

“Yeah. Told the police about the girl, but they must’ve never found her.” The man shrugged.

“I see.” You suddenly feel the need to end this line of questioning and get back to the motel. “Thank you so much, um...” You pause as you realize you’d never learned the man’s name. He considered you for a moment before seemingly deciding something.

“Gabe.” He put out his hand and you shook it. “Pleased to meet ya.”

“Y/N.” You’re not sure what compelled you to tell him your real name. You usually gave a fake name when interviewing witnesses. You don’t fret too much over it though, there’s not much anyone could do with just a first name.

“Well, Y/N.” Gabe looks at you seriously for a moment, as if he could see right through you. His stony expression fades as a cocky smile slides back onto his face. “Good luck with your article.” Article? Oh right! You had completely forgotten that you were pretending to be a journalist. Man, this guy was seriously throwing you off your game. You nod your head and leave before you can make yourself look any more foolish than you already have.

~~~~~

“And that’s all there really is to it.” You rap up your story and Bobby nods, deep in thought. You had decided to downplay the effect that Gabe had had on you. The last thing you wanted was for your brothers to think that weren’t you to the task of solving this case. Sam and Dean start to fight again and Bobby finally decides to speak up about it.

“Okay. What's going on with you two?” Bonny eyes the two of them suspiciously.

“Nothing. No... It’s nothing.” Sam says.

“Come on. You're bickering like an old married couple.”

“No, see married couples can get divorced. Me and him, we're like, uh, Siamese twins.” Sam and Dean fall into another argument and you suddenly feel a headache coming on. Bobby looks back at you.

“Do you know anything about this?” You just shake your head silently. You had no idea why your brothers were acting like this.

“Look, it-“ Your brother cuts himself off with a sigh “We’ve just been on the road for too long. Tight quarters, all that. Don't worry about it.”

“Okay...” Sam continues on with the story.

“So anyway. We figured it might be a haunting, so we went to check out the scene of the crime.”

~~~~~

The three of you stood in front of the building dressed as electricians. You and Sam compare notes from the night before as you wait to be let into the building. You look up in surprise as you see the Janitor, Gabe, approach.

“Hey, you!” He exclaims when he spots you standing beside your brothers. “Long time no see.” Gabe gives you a wide, lopsided grin as he jogs up to your little group. You suddenly feel shy as you feel Sam and Dean looking between the two of you.

“Yeah, anyway,” Sam starts up, drawing Gabe’s attention away from you. “We’re uh, the electricians. We were called by the school to do some repairs?”

“Is that so?” The janitor’s eyes narrow like he was sizing up your brothers. “Man, nobody tells me anything in this place!” Gabe saunters to the door to unlock it as he continues to speak. “Makes sense though, this place has been needing a tune up for years.” He holds the door open and you all walk inside. You take one step before Gabe stops suddenly. “Except,” He turns around and points at you. You’re not sure why, but when his eyes meet yours you suddenly feel nervous. “I thought you said you were a reporter.” You freeze your as you try to think of a good cover.

“Uh, I am a reporter. But my family owns an electrician business. And my brothers here,” You gesture to your brothers standing behind you. “Sometimes call me in when they need an extra pair of hands.”

“These guys are your brothers?” Gabe quirks his eyebrow, looking skeptical. You nodded.

“That’s quite the family business you’ve got there.” Gabe pins you with a look and you can’t help but feel as though this was some kind of inside joke you weren’t in on.

“Buddy, you have no idea.” Dean says as the janitor finally lets you into the building. Sam continues asking Gabe questions as you head up to the professor’s office. You remain silent as you observe your surroundings.

“So, how long've you been working here?”

“I’ve been mopping this floor for six years.” Gabe responds as he lets you into the professor’s office. “There you go, guys.” You look around as Sam pulls out his EMF reader.

“What the heck’s that for?”

“Huh. Well. Not sure why you're wiring up this office. Not gonna do the professor much good.” The janitor said as he leaned against a wall.

“Why’s that?”

“Didn’t your sister tell you? He’s dead. She came ‘round yesterday investigating it.” Gabe shot you a confused look.

“Never thought to mention it.” You muttered back lamely.

“Oh, what happened?” Dean asked, trying to appear casual.

“He went out that window right there.” Gabe pointed to the window behind the desk. “I’m the one who found him. But Y/N can tell you all about that I’m sure.” He sends a subtle wink your way and you’re at a loss for words. You clear your throat to speak.

“Yeah, you told me yesterday that the professor came up here with some girl, right?” You direct you questioning to Gabe.

“That’s correct.”

“You saw this girl go in, huh? But did you ever see her come out?” You see Sam shift into investigative mode. Gabe looks off to the side as he thinks.

“Now that you mention it, no.”

“You ever see her before, around?” Sam’s trying to act casual, but you’re worried that Gabe will see right through it. He seemed surprisingly perspective for a janitor. But game doesn’t seem to notice the inquisitive tone that Sam’s voice has taken.

“Not her.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asks, his mouth full of nuts he found in a glass dish on the desk.

“I don't mean to cast aspersions on a dead guy, but uh... Mister Morality here? He brought a lot of girls up here. Got more ass than a toilet seat.” Dean laughs jovially at that and you elbow him in the chest, causing him to cough up a nut. Gabe just grins at your antics.

“One more thing. This building, it only has four stories, right?”

“Yeah.”

“So there wouldn't be a room 669?”

“Course not. Why do you ask?”

“Ah, just curious. Thanks.” You thank the janitor for his time and the three of you head back to your motel room.

~~~~~

A few days later you’re back to pounding the pavement as Sam and Dean talk to a coed about an apparent alien abduction. You take a seat on a nearby bench as you mull things over. You’re at a loss at this point. You saw the circular scorch mark on the grass, but you couldn’t possibly believe that aliens were behind this. Before you can fall any further into your thoughts, a hyper little puppy scampers up to you. His tail wags furiously as he jumps on your leg.

“Hey buddy. Oh my gosh you’re adorable.” You bend down to let the excited pup sniff your fingers. After he seems satisfied, you give his head a scratch.

“Jack! Get back here!” You look up to see Gabe running towards the two of you. The dog tries jumping on your lap as you watch his owner draw near. “I’m so sorry about that!” Despite his apology, Gabe has an infectious grin on his face.

“It’s no trouble.” You say as you continue petting little Jack.

“We we’re going for a walk when the little bugger slipped the leash can you believe that?” You look up to see the leash hanging from Gabe’s hand. You chuckle as he sits down next to you on the bench. “Little guy must’ve been real excited to meet you.” Gabe picks up his dog and places the happy pup in his lap. “So, you here as a journalist or an electrician today?” Gabe asks as he fixes the leash to Jack’s collar.

“Neither, I’m just here.” Gabe nods as he puts his dog back on the ground. You decide that now’s a good a time as any to get some more info from the guy. “But I heard about that coed, says he was abducted by aliens. Gabe tilts back his head, letting out a hearty chuckle at that. You wait with baited breath to see what he has to say about the matter.

“You don’t seriously believe that nonsense, do you.”

“No, no of course not.” You turn your body so you’re fully facing the janitor. “But that scorch mark on the ground. I don’t think some frat kid could fake that.”

“True, but that don’t exactly mean aliens.” Gabe waggles his eyebrows at you. You don’t know what it is about him, but you feel at ease whenever he’s around. Your brothers walk up to where the two of you were sitting. They nod to the janitor and inform you that it’s time to go. You say your goodbyes and head back to the motel with as little information as you had when you’d left.

~~~~~

You sigh as you sneak out the motel door. After finding yet another victim, tensions between your brothers was at an all time high. You needed a break. This hunt was starting to really get to you. You weren’t sure where you were headed, but you had decided that a walk would probably be beneficial nonetheless. After a few minutes, you wind up back on campus. Lost in thought, you walk around aimlessly. You’re fed up with all this. You’re constantly forced to live in tight quarters with your brothers. You don’t have any real friends. And sometimes it feels like the weight of the work rests on your family’s shoulders. You want to scream. You want to run away and try to live a normal life. But you know it would just be pointless. You saw how well that went for Sammy, after all. You sigh to yourself and you think it might be best to return to your motel. Until you hear a voice behind you.

“We’ve got to stop meeting like this.” You whip your head around to find Gabe. You’re shocked due to the fact that you hadn’t even heard him approach. Being a hunter, you had a heightened sense of hearing and yet, a janitor had managed to sneak up on you no problem. Despite your surprise, you slip on a mask of indifference as you address him.

“Apparently this campus isn’t as big as I first thought.” You gave him a small smile.

“Forgive me for asking, but are you alright?” Apparently you weren’t hiding your emotions as well as you thought.

“I’m fine. Just tired I think.” You sigh a bit as you speak.

“Here, why don’t we sit down.” Gabe gently grasps your hand as he leads you to sit on the front steps. He settles next to you as he waits for you to speak.

“You don’t need to do all this. I’m fine really.” You can tell that Gabe can see through your lies. You sigh, knowing it would be easier to just tell the truth. Well part of it at least. “My brothers are just really getting on my nerves lately. They’ve been fighting almost nonstop lately.” You turn to face the man beside you and you see an expression of... guilt? No that’s not right. He probably just felt bad for you. You keep talking. At this point, the words are tumbling out of your mouth without your permission. “It’s just hard to constantly be around them. We’re constantly traveling around and sharing motel rooms and it’s just exhausting.” Uh oh. You can tell that you’ve over shared by the way Gabe quirks his eyebrow up at you. “We, uh, travel a lot for our uh... electric company...” You finish off, lamely.

“Forgive me for overstepping my boundaries, but have you ever considered just quitting?” Gabe says it like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Quitting?” Shock seeps into your voice as you parrot the man.

“Yeah, leaving the company to focus on your journalism career or whatever.” You’d honestly never really given much thought to it before. Of course, Sammy quit for a while, but you saw how that turned out. At some point you had just sort of resigned yourself to the idea of doing this forever.

“I can’t. It was, uh, our dad’s business. He was really set on all of us becoming... electricians.” You feel defensive suddenly. About your father, about the fact that you never even tried to leave the hunting business before. At least Sam had the balls to at least try to do something else with his life. “Besides, it’s an important job. You have no idea how badly people in this world need... electricity.” Gabe let out a laugh beside you.

“Honey, it not like you’re the only electrician in the world.” Gabe pauses as he looks you over. “Although you are the cutest.” You give him a playful glare as he continues. “I’m just saying, you shouldn’t have to feel forced into doing something just because your folks expect you to. Believe me, I know more about that then you’d think.” You give Gabe a look, not necessarily believing that he could possibly understand what you’re going through. He responds with a more serious look. “Listen, I just think that people should be able to do whatever they want to do. That’s why humans have free will in the first place, right?”

“And being a janitor, that’s what you decided you wanted to do?” You realize only after you said it how pretentious you sound. You hadn’t meant for it to be a jab, you were genuinely just trying to ask. Gabe doesn’t seem offended, however. He just sends you a knowing smile.

“I do what I want, when I want. Being a janitor just so happens to suit my fancies right now.” You wished you could live the way Gabe did. Going around doing whatever you wanted on a whim. You wanted nothing more than to be telling the truth now. To just be a girl who’s father wanted her to be an electrician. Maybe then you wouldn’t have felt pressured to stay. You could see yourself attending a college just like this one. Heck, maybe you would even become a journalist for real! Or a photographer or anything else you felt you wanted. And on the weekends you could meet up with Gabe and laugh about your latest petty drama with your friends. You shake off the thought. None of this could ever be true. You were a hunter, same as your father.

“Must be nice.” You say wistfully. 

“It’s not as unattainable as you might think.” For a moment, you marvel at the fact that this man always seemed to know what you were thinking. The thought fades from your head and you stand. You hadn’t come here to make friends. And as much as you hated to think it, at some point the hunt would be over and you’d never see Gabe again.

“I’ve got to head out. But thanks, you know? For letting me vent and stuff.” Gabe gives you a sad smile, he knew you were pulling away. You wish you could be open with him.

“Anytime. See you around kid.” You walk away without a word.

~~~~~

You’ve never felt more stupid in your entire life then you do at this very moment. Bobby had, almost immediately, figured out what you were dealing with the moment he showed up. Sam and Dean’s constant arguing, paired with the ironic fated of all your victims pointed to the culprit being a trickster. Once Bobby had explained to you the lore behind tricksters, you knew who it had to be. The janitor ‘Gabe’ (although you doubted that was his real name) had played you all from the very beginning. You couldn’t help the feeling of disappointment that weighed on your shoulders. The time the two of you had spent together, the talk you’d had about family, him acting like he actually cared. None of it was real. It was all just an elaborate trick. He pretended to be your friend so that you wouldn’t notice that he was the one behind all of this. And you fell for it hook, line, and sinker. You know you shouldn’t be upset by this. You’d only known the man for about a week. But your pride was wounded, a fact that you contributed to not having seen through his charade the moment you met him. You tried to pretend that you didn’t care that first person you’d considered to be a friend in years had been using you. And when your brothers hashed out a plan to put an end to the trickster, you pretended that that didn’t hurt as well.

~~~~~

Considering the events of the last 24 hours, you were less than pleased to be back on campus. You had opted out of going to meet the trickster with your brothers, not wanting him to pick up on the fact that something was off. Although your brother’s didn’t exactly understand, you explained that it would be better for you to show up later with Bobby. As you approach the door to the auditorium you hear the trickster speak.

“Sam was right. You shouldn't have come alone.”

“Well, I'll agree with you there.” You, Sam and Bobby take that as your cue to move in. You step through the doors to see a bed with two beautiful scantily clad women sitting on a bed atop the auditorium stage. You have to admit that the odd sight throws you off for a moment before you see Dean standing in front of trickster, who is lounging comfortably on one of the chairs and munching on a candy bar. Gabe turns to face you and he can immediately tell that you are more than unhappy with him. His shoulders slump a bit as his gaze returns to Dean.

“That fight you guys had outside – that was a trick?” The trickster seems impressed by your brothers’ deception. Dean just shrugs. “Hm. Not bad.” He nods his head impressed as Dean pulls a stake from his coat. “But you want to see a real trick?” You’re worried about how casual the man seems about this. He doesn’t seem to be the least bit concerned about his impending death. Instead, he gestures with his candy bar and masked man wielding a chainsaw appears behind Sam. Before Dean can stab the trickster with his stake, a girl from on stage grabs him and tossed him towards the bed. With the adrenaline pumping through your veins, your hunter instincts kick in. You rush towards the chainsaw wielding maniac. The masked man stops what he’s doing and turns to face you. But before you can do anything, you hear the trickster speak. “Yeah, I don’t think so. Sorry, sweetheart.” And with that, you are poofed out to the hall. You race up to the auditorium door, ready to get back into the fight. But the door refuses to budge when you pull on it.

“Oh, come on!” You yank harder on the door, to no avail. You can hear the sounds of fighting inside, but you’re unable to do anything. You back up and try kicking down the door, but nothing works. It seems that the trickster wants you to stay out of this particular fight. Suddenly the room goes quiet and under your fingers, you feel the door unlock. You walk in the door just in time to see your brother pull a stake out of the trickster’s corpse. You try not to flinch as you watch his body fall back onto the seat. You slowly make your way to Bobby and your brothers. You don’t take your eye off the trickster the entire time. Dean checks that you’re all okay and you nod mutely.

“Where the hell were you anyway?”

“The trickster locked me out.”

“Well, I won’t protest to anything that keeps my baby sister out of the fight.” You glare at him. “But I got to say... he had style.” You roll your eyes as you all head towards the door. As the others walk ahead of you, you pause on the steps for a moment by the trickster’s body. You’re happy to have finished the hunt, but as you look at the body before you you can’t help but wish things had gone differently.

“You coming, Y/N?” Bobby is stood in the doorway waiting for you. You take one last look at the man and continue on your way. “Good. We gotta get the hell out of here.”

The four of you make a beeline to Dean’s car. Sam and Dean pause for only a moment to exchange, what you can only assume to be, their apologies. As you drive away, Bobby speaks up suddenly

“You know the only part of this case that doesn’t make a lick of sense is,” Bobby turns to face you sitting beside him in the backseat. “How come the trickster was able to turn your brothers against each other that easily, and yet he let you go scot free.” You shrug.

“Guess he didn’t feel the need to.”

“Huh.”

~~~~~

You swing by the motel room to pick up your things before you ‘get the hell out of dodge’. And before you leave, you see there on your pillow, a wrapped chocolate bar.

[pish-posh-applesauce]

His Story//Reginald

Got a request for this from @laughterisorange​ on my other account and decided to roll with it, enjoy.

Series parts: 1 2(Outed//Alex)

masterlist

--

When in a crisis humans have two reactions, fight and flight. From the moment we come into this world it begins. Something bad happens? We either, a, fight back, or his favorite, b, run and hide. Crawl into your little spot, block out the screams with music, and try not to cry. At least that’s what he was doing right now.

Reggie was in his closet, blankets and pillows crowded into it, his Walkman blasting rock music to drown out the screams. It happened to be a normal scenario for him at this point. To hide away until one stormed out or went to bed. He really didn’t think much of it.

They did. They knew something was wrong when Reg missed rehearsal one time, was late to the next, and almost missed school one day from “sleeping in.” Tonight was no different. A rap at the window alerted Reggie that Alex was outside. He didn’t hear it so much as feel it. The window being right next to the closet had it’s perks.

He dragged himself up, moved to it push it open, and leaned out. As expected, there was Alex looking at him as if waiting for something. Glancing at the sky, Reggie noticed that it had begun to swirl into a beautiful mix of coloring that he wanted to sketch as quickly as possible. But Alex had to be here for a reason--the band normally avoid the house as a rule of thumb.

“Reg?” Alex whispered yelled.

‘”What’s up Alex?” Reggie replied in a louder slightly annoyed voice, not like they could hear him anyways.

“Dude, rehearsal?”

Reggie’s eyes widened, he had entirely forgotten about band rehearsal tonight. The sense of time in Reggie’s head was almost non-existent at this point, so he was guessing it was Friday. Alex brushed off the shocked expression on the other boys face and waved him to grab his things. Reggie quickly grabbed his backpack and go-bag, which held all the necessities for a possible sleepover in Bobby’s studio. Guitar picks, an extra flannel shirt, spare cash, his sketchbook, and of course, food.

Reggie checked to make sure his door was locked before he hopped out his window onto the roof of the porch. He shimmied down the railing and offered Alex a small smile as they both hopped into the car. The ride was quiet, the gentle hum of the engine and the rock music quietly whizzing in the background being the only things to break the silence.

The boys hopped out of the truck and Reggie practically ran around back to the studio. However, when he whipped open the doors he was not met with the band’s usual set up, but his two friends lying on the couch. Both of their heads lifted with confusion that quickly transformed into bright smiles. 

“Hey Reggie, what’s up?” Bobby asked.

“Uh band rehearsal??”

“Dude It’s a Thursday, why would we have rehearsal??” Luke jumped in.

“Well Alex sai-” Reggie turned to the boy who was now blocking the entrance to the studio. “Alex, why am I here?”

“We need to talk Reg.” Alex said guiding the black haired boy onto the couch. He smiled at Luke as he kissed his cheek before turning back. “What’s up with you dude? You’re late to school and band rehearsals, you’re falling asleep in class, and you look a mess!”

That was all it took for Reggie to break down sobbing, crumbling into a ball. Alex immediately wrapped his arms around his shaking figure the other boys joining shortly after. They sat there listening to Reggie explain his home situation and trying to get him to stop crying. They eventually settled him down enough to watch a movie and go to bed. 

--

Now we’re onto our second part of that reaction, fight. To push and battle your way out. The ringing of the phone after school the next day was odd to say the least. No one ever called to the studio, except for potential gigs. Gigs! all the boys seemed to realize it at the same time jumping towards the ringing. Reggie reached it first.

“Ha-ha, got you guys!” He said picking it up, “Sunset Curve, Reggie Speaking.”

His face dropped immediately and he started to mumble into the phone sending a shaky look the boy’s way. Dropping it back into the receiver he began to grab his things shoving them in his bag. Alex jumped up and grabbed his shoulders. 

“Dude, what are doing right now?”

“Gotta...go...home” Reggie said shrugging away his hands.

“No. No way Reg!” Alex grabbed his wrist waving over Luke to help. 

Arms encircled the boy as he thrashed to get out of his friend’s grip. Screams and punches thrown at stilled, cement-like bodies. Cries for what was supposed to sound like resistance but came out more like hopeless yelps for help were put out. The cage was slowly eased away as the boy fell into his bandmates grasp. Peace finally settling over him.

So that’s how Reg got here, at least that’s how your “uncle” Bobby told it to me. I missed Bobba as a boyfriend for a while, but we work better platonically. And anyway, shortly after that I met the cute coffee shop barista, or as you know him, your dad. Love you always Jules.

xoxo,

Rose (momma) Molina

-~-

a/n: Hope y’all enjoyed! I have it in mind that Reg is an artist bc he has such an appreciation for pretty things. Also had to throw some Luke x Alex in there for ya. Love you guys, gals, and non-binaries!

[captainbetonit]

To shoot an arrow

“How did you get so good?” Craig asks one day, kinda out of the blue. 

“Good at what?” Green poncho(or Omar as he later told him), asked. He had an idea but it was fun hearing him. 

“Archery! How did you get so good at it?” Craig sat up, stars in his eyes. 

Omar shrugged, hands going to one of his many arrows. “It took a while if I’m being honest.” He leaned against the overpass rail and looked over at the creek. “Why do you ask?”

Craig shrugged, joining his friend. “I don’t know, you just make it look so easy and it’s amazing when you fire them!” He had a grin on his face just thinking about the archer next to him. 

“Really? Well if you want I could teach you.” Omar handed one of the arrows, it was one with a suction cup as the tip, to his friend. “That is, if you want?” He half smiled. 

Craig looked at the arrow before breaking into the largest smile the other has ever seen. “I would love to learn!” He stood up, eyes gleaming and bouncing.  

Omar smiled, it was nice to see his friend so excited to learn. “Alright, but another day, it’s almost dinnertime and it’ll take awhile to learn.” 

Craig frowned for a second before smiling once more, “That’s ok! We can start first thing tomorrow, i’ll ask if Kelsey and JP if they can watch the overpass for you!” 

“Speaking of your friends, where are they?” Omar really looked around now, something he should always be doing(cute map makers be damned) and saw they were nowhere to be found. 

“They went to the trading tree to get us some drinks, Kelsey did say it was going to take a while.” Craig looked past the overpass, hoping to see the blue raft they used. “Although it shouldn’t take this long.” 

“Call them, maybe they ran out.” Omar kept an eye for the blue raft while Craig took out his phone to call them. 

“Maybe, it is summer.” Craig dialed Kelsey’s number, and put it on speaker, and waited. 

The line ringed for a little, before the call got declined. Strange. 

“She didn’t pick up, but Kelsey always picks up.” Craig looked worried before his phone rang loudly. 

“CRAIG!” As soon as Craig picked up Kelsey yelled, “YOU HAVE TO GET HERE, THE 10 SPEEDS AND SCOOTER GIRL ARE FIGHTING RIGHT NOW!” 

“IT’S CRAZY!” JP yelled from somewhere off screen. 

“Wow!” Craig frowned again, “I don’t know, i’m still here with green poncho.” 

“It’s ok, go. Tomorrow we can start learning.” Omar tilted his head slightly to the side and smiled. “Just tell me how it goes alright?” 

“Are you sure?” He frowned, like the idea of leaving Omar alone was upsetting. 

“Yeah, besides we’ll have all day tomorrow. That is if you still want to learn?” Suddenly self consist. Wait-what? 

“Hm, alright. But i’ll be back tomorrow! See ya!” Craig climbed down the railing to the other raft that they brought. 

Hm, Omar couldn’t wait. 

~.~ 

Chat: A knight, Truck and Map maker

Members: The bravest knight

Truck boy

Craigy boy 

Tuesday 5:39 pm

Craigy boy: hey guys can you do me a favor?? 

The bravest knight: yeah sure

Truck boy: depends, when 

Craigy boy: tomorrow can you guys watch the over pass for GP? 

The bravest knight: yeah sure, why tho? 

Craigy boy: he offered to teach me archery! 

Truck boy: oh wow! So you gonna be the new green poncho or what 

Craigy boy: no, i just wanna learn 

The bravest knight: a valuable skill 

Truck boy: alright we’ll watch the bridge 

~.~ 

Omar was at the overpass, where he often was during the day. Ever sense summer began he was there longer, which wasn’t great at times because of his poncho. 

But ever sense he made friends with Craig, JP, and Kelsey the days are better and honestly, it was nice. Omar never really thought he would friends, especially after Maya and Xavier. But they where in the past. 

His eyes caught sight of the blue raft he was accustomed to seeing. They were right on time. 

“If you catch anything can i have it?” JP asks Craig, as the three row down the creek. 

“I don’t think i’ll catch anything.” Craig replies looking around for his friend. Then he looked up, He, wasn’t there? 

“You’re on time.” Omar landed on the raft, startling the other three. “Didn’t think you’d be here till later.” 

Craig recovered quickly, placing his fists on his hips. “Well i’m here and ready to learn!” 

“Make our dear friend a worthy archer good sir.” Kelsey then stood in front of her friend, staring down the boy clad in green. 

“We’ll see.” Omar half smiles before jumping off of the raft, “I’ll wait here.” 

He watches as the raft continues to float until it reaches under the overpass and waits till Craig runs up to him. 

“So how are we are going to start? Have me shoot an arrow across a felid? Watch you and take notes?” Craig asks question after question while the two walk in the creek. 

“Is there a place in the creek where no one would bother us?” Omar asks as the trees get somewhat thinner and noises get louder. 

“Hm,” Craig pulled out his map, checking the surrounding area and pointing, “well there’s the junk yard but Junk lord doesn’t like people there and he would keep anything we forgot.” 

He pointed to a different direction, “The 10 speeds are always there so that’s out of the question, and the horse girls don’t really like it when non horse kids are there.” Craig continued to point to areas where they could potentially work until he pointed slightly ahead. “That’s where the stump is, me Kelsey and JP hang out there, it’s like our hideout!” 

“Do other kids go there?” Omar asks, looking over Craig’s shoulder to see his map. 

“Not really, sometimes Kelsey’s friend Wildnessa comes by but she doesn’t come by often. And then there’s Bobby but he’s not a threat.” 

“Then lets go to your stump, lead the way.” Omar smiled, letting Craig lead the way.(That and he knew this side better than the archer). 

“Have you’ve mapped this whole place?” Omar asks, feeling somewhat relaxed on this side of the creek. 

“Most of it, the sewers are harder to map out but it’s coming together!” Craig exclaimed, finally getting to dry land. 

“Huh, no one did that before?” They had stopped for a minuet so Craig could put on his regular shoes. 

“Some kids tried to but, they never finished it.” They were back to walking, the trees becoming thin enghe to see anyone clearly. 

They stayed quiet till a clearing showed up, there were odds and ends scattered around and there stood the stump. “Here it is! So can we get started?” 

Omar looked around before nodding, “Find a tree and put a target on it.” 

Craig nodded before going to a tree with steps on it’s trunk. “What next?” 

“Come back,” Craig jogged back, “Ok this part is going to be hard but don’t worry if you don’t get it on the first try.” 

“Ok!” Omar handed him the bow and had Craig stand in front of him. 

“Take an arrow and try to balance it on the string part of the bow.” Omar guides his friends hands, “Take aim, preferably on the target.” 

Craig follows his instructions, trying to keep the arrow pointed at the target. 

“Even when you let go you have to keep it steady,” Omar advised, “You’ve seen me keep it in one place, even when the arrow is away from the bow, it’s like that.” 

“Don’t you have a rope attached to them though?” 

“...That’s not point.”  Guiding the map makers hand to pull the bow back. “Ok here’s a slightly tricky part, don’t pull so lightly but not to hard.” 

“That doesn’t make sense.” Craig frowned before trying, “Is it like a balance thing?” 

Omar shrugged, “Yeah it kinda is.” 

Craig nodded before doing what he was told. “Now what?” 

“Take a deep, aim and fire.” Omar took a small step back, observing the young map maker. 

Craig was silent, before he let the arrow lose. The two watched with bated breath as the arrow flew through the short distance and landed in the center of the target. 

Wait-center of the target?! 

“Did I hit that?!” Craig asked bewildered. 

“You just hit that!” Omar confirmed excited. 

“I can’t believe I just hit that!” Craig yelled, smile over taking his face. 

Omar was smiling, more than he has in a while. “And it’s your first time too, you're a natural!” 

Then  Craig did something that neither expected(but it was nice), he dropped the bow and hugged the archer, “I can’t believe it!

Omar hugged back, and the two shared a moment. Then Craig tensed for a second, before pulling away. Omar didn’t want him too.

“I-i’m sorry, i don’t know if you have a thing about touching or personal space. I-I-I am so sorry Omar-.”

“Craig-.” 

“I just got so excited and you are an amazing teacher-.” 

“Craig.” 

“I’m sorry if i made you uncomfortable or anything-” 

“Craig!” Omar put his hands on Craig’s shoulder, and looked him in the eye. “You don’t have to apologized, i didn’t mind.” 

“Really?” Craig still looked worried. 

“Really.” Omar smiled and hugged the map maker, (he will admit that he was very happy) who in turn hugged back. 

“Wanna get back to the lesson?” Finally letting go and picking up the abandoned bow. 

“Yes!” Craig took it from the bow from the archer, and ran to the target. 

~.~ 

After about two hours of teaching Craig, who was pretty good at archery and got two arrows stuck in a tree, they stopped for a snack. 

“Wanna go to the trading tree? Kit has a lot of snacks!” 

“What’s the trading tree?” Omar jumped down from the branch.(He got one of the arrows down) 

“Well we bring things like golf balls or something to trade for snacks and drinks!” Craig had gone into the stump(which Omar wanted to know how they hollowed out a tree stump) and came back with a small bucket and some sand molds. 

“Really? No ranks or anything?” Omar grabbed his bow and slung it over his shoulder. 

“Nope, snacks should a given.” Craig put the molds in the bucket and closed the hatch for the stump. 

“Come on, if we hurry Kit might have some good things left.” Craig lead the way once again through the creek, talking to the archer about the odd places of his side of the creek, like a place called Elder rock where three teenagers play bored games. 

They got to the trading tree where a girl in braids and glasses gave Craig his snacks, and tried to get Omar to trade away his bow and arrows. That definitely didn’t happen. 

“That’s enough practice for today, we can do some more tomorrow.” Omar mentioned as he and Craig started to inflate the extra raft. 

“Ok, same time tomorrow?” Craig asked as they started floating down the creek. 

“Hm, how about two days from now? Give you and your friends a day together?” Omar offered, as he rowed the raft. 

“Yeah, that’s fair. Here.” Craig handed him a Choco roll with a smile. 

Omar gently took it and smiled, “Thanks, i don’t eat these often.” 

“No problem.” They made their way to the overpass in comfortable silence, Craig drawing something while Omar steered them. 

“We’re almost there,” Omar announced as the trees got thicker and broken fencing started to become clear. 

“Cool,” Craig focused on his drawing, not really paying attention. 

“Whatcha drawing?” The other asked, trying to see the paper. 

“A thing.” 

“What kind of thing?” He asked. 

“A thing i’ll show you when i’m done.” Craig answered, smiling. 

“Alright, i believe you.” Omar shrugged, looking around. 

“Good because we’re here.” The two looked up as the overpass loomed over them. 

“Hey guys!” JP greeted while Kelsey held up her sword. 

“Hey!” Craig waved as the paper fell. 

“I’m taking over, you guys have a good day.” Omar said as Craig jumped to the other raft. They said their goodbyes as the three floated away. 

Omar looked down at the paper, folded now with his name quickly written on it. He picked it up and unfolded it, it was a drawing of him and Craig, with a thank you for teaching him. 

Omar smiled, he couldn’t wait till next time.

[wanderingcas]

5 times Dean had work to do, and the one time he actually enjoyed it.  pairing: dean/cas a commission for @jensenackhles <3 2k words

One 

Dean first heard the phrase a few weeks after his mom died.

John had checked them into a motel—one of the many that they had cycled through in the past few weeks. Sam was asleep in the crib, and John was on the opposite bed. Dean had woken up to a strange sound; he rolled over and saw John at the foot of the bed, head bowed, shoulders shaking.

Dean had never seen his dad cry before. Even right after the fire, when he was telling the detectives what happened at the police station: completely dry-eyed. So seeing his dad cry was… strange. Dean wanted to make it stop. 

He pushed back the sheets and hopped off the bed. Walking on unsteady, sleepy toddler legs to his dad, he put either hand on John’s knees, looking up at him. John was clutching a worn picture of Mary between his fingers.

“Are you okay, dad?” Dean asked.

John continued to stare at the picture of Mary’s smiling face. After a moment, he sniffed. Wiped his face that was striped with tears with the back of his hand. He ruffled Dean’s hair and said gruffly, “Yeah, kid. I’m fine. Get back to sleep, okay? We got work to do in the morning.”

And the next morning in the car, when Sam was crying in his carseat and kicking up a storm, Dean patted his head and said, “It’s okay, Sammy, shh. Stop crying. We got work to do, okay? So you can’t cry. We got to work.” 

Sam just stared at him with big teary and trusting eyes. Dean didn’t even know what he was really saying at the time; what he was getting them into.

Two 

He didn’t make it a habit to say the words out loud often. He said them more to himself, as a mantra to keep himself on track. But sometimes they would slip out, when he really needed to orient himself: when he really needed to kick his own ass into gear and push down the emotions.

The second time he remembers saying it was when he was 25. He was driving to a case with Danny, the son of one of John’s hunting friends. John was out of commission from a nasty encounter with a wendigo, so they were tag-teaming the ghoul hunt. 

Dean felt his phone buzz, wedged between the driver’s seat and his leg. He pulled it up, glancing at it, just in case it was important. His stomach immediately sank when he saw Sam’s number.

Got to Stanford okay, in case you were wondering. Too hot here. Miss you and Dad. 

The muscles in Dean’s jaw jumped as he clenched it tighter.

“Who’s that?” Danny asked, cocking his shotgun. “Somethin’ about the case?”

“No,” Dean said. He pulled into the driveway of the house where the hauntings were taking place. Eased the Impala into park. “Focus up,” he commanded, cocking his own gun aggressively. “We got work to do.” 

Three 

The seal to the gates of hell are open. Ruby tricked them, and Sam triggered the apocalypse. 

Dean doesn’t know what to say. 

History is repeated again, where Dean is sitting helplessly on one hotel bed, Sam crying on the other. He’s bent at the waist, shoulders hunched, tears silently streaming. 

Dean knows that he’ll blame himself forever. He knows that this might break him. 

He knows he needs to say something.

Getting up unsteadily, he walks over to the bed and sits down on the other side of his brother. The bed creaks from his weight. “C’mon, Sam,” he says into the silence. “We didn’t know, okay? We couldn’t have seen it coming.”

Sam remains silent, glaring at the ground.

A lead in his gut, Dean reaches out a hand, and places it on Sam’s shoulder. “We gotta keep going, okay? We just… we gotta keep fighting. We can’t just sit down and take it.” 

“What’s the point, Dean?” Sam asks. He shrugs off Dean’s shoulder and twists around to glare at him. “Why even try, if I keep fucking everything up? Huh?”

“Because people need us, Sam,” Dean snaps. “We need to finish what we started. We gotta make sure the world is safe, okay? There’s no time to sit around and feel sorry for our damn selves.”

Sam stares at his hands, stonily silent.

Dean stands. Holds out a hand to his younger brother. “C’mon. We got work to do.” 

Sam glares at Dean’s hand for a moment before sighing resignedly. He takes it, and stands.

Four 

When Dean met Cas, a lot changed.

His view on angels not so much: he still thinks they’re a bunch of dicks. But the way that things aren’t always so black and white. That people—angels—can change. That Dean can maybe be… loved. Saved. Worthy of it. 

At least Cas seems to think he’s worth it, anyway. 

He tucks all these feelings into his back pocket; doesn’t want them to see the light of day. Because if they did… well. Then he would have more than his brother to be worried about. And in his line of work, any attachments are frankly a terrible decision.

Except, it’s Cas, and Dean can’t keep his eyes off him. 

And he stares at Cas a lot. He knows he does; it’s almost like there’s a magnet that pulls his eyes to Cas’s face and stays there. Sam notices it; Cas notices it; everyone notices it. Dean just… can’t seem to help it.

Maybe it’s that otherworldly look that he always has on his face. Maybe it’s the perpetual five o’clock shadow that paints his sharp jaw. Maybe it’s because Cas is usually staring right back at him, all up in Dean’s personal space no matter how much Dean complains about it (even though he really doesn’t mind. Not at all. He’d love to have Cas even closer, actually). 

Maybe it’s just because Dean has a damn crush on an angel and he doesn’t know what to do about it. 

“So, you’re sweet on my brother, huh?” Gabriel asks Dean with a leering grin.

Dean snaps his eyes back into the room instead of watching Cas’s back leave the room. “What the fuck? No.” 

Across the room, Sam puts a hand over his mouth to hide his smile. Dean wants to punch him so that he’ll finally respect his damn elders.

“Liar,” Gabriel says. 

“C’mon, that weirdo? In a trenchcoat? What are you smoking?”

“He has a… jeno se qua,” Gabriel says with a wave of his hand in the air. “A certain sexiness, if you will.” 

“I’m not sweet on him.” Dean can feel the blood rising in his cheeks, and he hates it. 

“Sure, Dean-o.” Gabriel winks. “Sure.” 

Cas walks back into the roomthen , looking adorably confused, and of course Dean’s blush increases. He tries to look casual as he leans against the wall with a glare, avoiding Cas’s eyes. 

Sam sputters as he tries not to laugh at Gabriel batting his eyelashes in Cas’s direction. 

“Okay, knock it off, you idiots,” Dean snaps. “We got work to do.” 

Cas tilts his head in that adorable way, asking, “What do you want me to knock off, Dean?”

“Your pants,” says Gabriel casually. 

Sam loses it then, bursting into laughter. 

Five 

The apocalypse is done. By some miracle, they all lived through it—Cas, Bobby, and even Sam, who managed to push Lucifer out before throwing him into the pit. 

There’s no imminent danger, no immediate threat—which is probably why Sam decides to bring it up.

“Are you going to tell him how you feel?” Sam asks. They’re sitting at Bobby’s table, each nursing a beer. Sam is still exhausted from his encounter with Lucifer, so he’s not getting out to hunt much these days; they normally spend their nights like this, just soaking in the quiet before the next inevitable storm.

Dean looks at his brother incredulously. “What’re you talking about?”

“Don’t play stupid,” Sam says. “I’m not an idiot, Dean. I see the way you look at him.” 

Dean grumbles, sipping at his beer. 

“Dean.” Sam sets his beer down. “The world is quiet. For once. The apocalypse is avoided, Michael and Lucifer are in the cage, just—there will be crap that comes up later. It can’t be avoided. But at least now, in this quiet moment, you can figure things out. With him.”

“Just leave it alone, Sam,” Dean sighs. He doesn’t even have the energy to argue with him anymore. Snatching his beer off the table, he says, “Think I’m gonna finish this outside.” 

He ignores Sam’s worried eyes that follow him out of the house. 

Leaning against the porch railing, he sips at his beer, glaring out into the salvage yard. Something familiar catches his eye: a figure wrapped in a trench coat, head tilted back and staring up at the stars. 

Dean takes a steadying pull of beer before stomping down the porch steps. He stands next to Cas, the neck of his beer bottle hanging loosely from his fingers. Cas gives him a nod of acknowledgement before looking back up at the twinkling stars above them. 

Clearing his throat, Dean says gruffly, “So, you thinkin’ of going back there?”

“Back there?” Cas asks.

“To, you know.” Dean waves his beer at the sky. “To Heaven.” 

“Heaven is not in the sky, Dean,” Cas chides.

“Okay, whatever. Just answer the damn question: are you going back?”

Cas lifts one shoulder in barely a shrug. He looks at Dean then, blue eyes sparkling in the night. “I might not go back—if I have a reason to stay.” 

“Well, you might have one,” Dean says. “There’s plenty more shit to take care of down here. Rumor has it Raphael is pissed about you rebelling against the apocalypse, so he’ll probably stir some shit up that you have to—”

“Dean.” Cas turns to him, suddenly very serious. “Do I have a reason to stay?”

Dean can feel his breath catch in his throat. He realizes that he could lie. Could laugh it off with a joke or a snarky comment, like he usually does. But he knows it’s now or never. Cas could leave. He’d do anything to stop that. 

“Dean,” Cas says again. There’s a filter of emotion that comes through to his eyes—it looks like hope. That makes Dean crack. 

“Maybe you do have a reason,” Dean says. “Maybe we want you to, I don’t know—stay.” He looks at the ground. “Maybe I want you to stay.” 

Cas takes Dean’s hand. Dean’s heart rate increases as Cas rubs his thumb against Dean’s calloused knuckles. “I want to stay, too.” 

“Good, that’s, uh.” Dean smiles wide. Steps closer to Cas so that their chests are nearly touching. “That’s good, Cas.” 

+1

Dean asks Cas to marry him six months later on the hood of the Impala, burgers and beers between them. 

He doesn’t see the point in waiting when he just…. knows. Cas seems to know too, since Dean can barely get out the question before Cas is tackling him to the hood and kissing him senseless, whispering Yes between each breath. 

Sam cries when they tell him. Of course. Bobby pretends not to get emotional, but Dean sees him wiping at his face a minute later. The angels are, of course, pissed—but Cas couldn’t care less. 

Apparently Cas had been planning to ask Dean from the beginning—he and Charlie had even been making a wedding scrapbook with Charlie in the past few months.

Cas pulls out the scrapbook to show Dean the next morning, both in their pajamas and sitting at Bobby’s kitchen table. His cheeks are stained from embarrassment, unsure how Dean will take it.

But Dean finds it the least embarrassing thing in the world—he just flips through the pages and pages of wedding decorations, tuxes, and rings, and gets increasingly choked up. He almost loses it when he sees the Enochian words for “Forever” inscribed on a ring that Charlie made in photoshop as a mock-up. 

Dean puts down his coffee, and kisses his fiance soundly. When he pulls back, Cas is smiling, bright as the rising sun. 

Shutting the book, Dean stands, and grabs Cas’s hand with a wink. “Well, Cas. Looks like we got work to do.”

[shannaraisles]

Detective Serena Langford

(profile created by @possumsunshine​)

QUICK READ OF YOUR DETECTIVE:

Name: Serena Langford Pronouns: She/Her Sexuality: Heterosexual Love interest: Mason Best friend: Nate Main skill: Combat Secondary skill: People/psychology Main personality trait: Friendly Secondary personality trait: Genuine Why did they join the Wayhaven PD?: Rebellious youth Relationship with Rebecca: Not close, not hostile Relationship with Bobby: Ex-boyfriend, trying not to think about it Verda or Tina?: Tina Murphy bite?: Neck Murphy’s fate?: Escaped Rescue LI or Rescue Sanja?: Sanja

GENERAL:

Full Name: Serena Rose Langford Nickname: N/A (until Mason starts calling her "sweetheart") Birthday: 29th February Age: 29 Pronouns: She/Her Sexuality: Heterosexual Hair: Chestnut brown, natural loose curls to mid-back, worn down Eyes: Hazel brown, 20/20 vision Height: 5'4" Piercings: Two in each earlobe, right side of nose Tattoos: A small pair of purple and pink Sweetheart candy hearts on her left side (side boob), with the words Fuck and Off inside them Clothing Style: Girly, bright; tends toward pretty dresses, cardigans or jackets, and combat boots with pockets Apartment Style: Cosy and warm, lots of soft things and comfortable furniture, warm colours on the wall, photographs and old artwork, and lots of books

STATS:

Personality: Charming | Intimidating Impulsive | Cautious Sarcastic | Genuine (a bit of both) Friendly | Stoic Easygoing | Stubborn Traits: Heart | Mind Optimist | Pessimist Team Player | Independent Main Skill: Combat Second Skill: People/psychology Professional Outlook: By the Book | Bend the Rules (a bit of both)

KEY DECISIONS:

Reason for joining the Wayhaven PD: Without much in the way of parental supervision or discipline growing up, Serena was an angry child and teenager, fairly quick to fall in with the "wrong" crowd, committing acts of petty vandalism and minor violence. She cleaned up her act when she went to college, but then he happened, and she dropped back into bad habits. Thanks to the memory of her father (and unknown to her, her mother's influence), she was offered jail time or community service assisting the police in Wayhaven. She took the community service, met Tina, cleaned up her act, and never left since. Murphy bite:  Wrist | Neck | None Murphy’s Fate: Captured | Escaped Rescued: Love Interest | Sanja

ROMANTIC RELATIONSHIP:

Love Interest: Mason Why them?: Honestly? Because he showed an interest and enjoyment in getting under her skin, to begin with. She's always been drawn to the "bad boy", but has been burned a few times, so her reactions are not enthusiastic. The fact that he starts losing some of his sharper edges while not giving up on teasing her just appeals to something in her. And she kind of understands the prickly outsides - she used to do it herself, and she knows how lonely that gets. Bold, shy, or mixed?: She is shy as all hell when he starts flirting, and it doesn't really improve. Serena's been burned, and has made herself touch-starved through trying to avoid another burning, but Mason slides right past all those barriers without even trying. What were their first impressions of each other?: Serena thought he was gorgeous, an absolute jerk, and wanted to know why; Mason thought she was pretty but too weak to handle the world, and part of him wanted to protect her from it. What do they find attractive about each other, mentally or physically?: Obviously they both share a very physical attraction! Serena is absolutely enchanted by Mason's eyes; he's fascinated by the way her body curves as she moves. Mentally, it's almost a case of opposites attract on the surface - Mason loves her softness and the quiet she carries around with her, but also finds her ability to throw herself competently into combat incredibly hot; Serena is intrigued by the softer glimpses she gets of his personality every now and then, and she actually enjoys his often crass sense of humor. What do they do to spend time together?: In the beginning, their time together consisted of him just being present while she went about her daily life, but slowly he started to incorporate his own activities into hers. They don't really set time aside for each other so much as mesh their day-to-day until it feels wrong not to know exactly where the other is at all times. What are their love languages?: They're both quality time/physical touch people How do they handle being apart from one another?: They're usually okay about it, but the longer it goes, the more irritable Mason gets, and the more edgy Serena gets. If the reason for being apart is a mission, Mason will be a growly nightmare for anyone else he's with while he waits; Serena is a quiet worrier Do they argue? How do they handle arguments and disagreements? How do they make up?: They do argue, usually over Mason's inability to people anyone he doesn't have a connection with and Serena's inability not to people with anyone she meets. Arguments are fiery flare ups - no shouting, but tense words (and a lot of looming on Mason's part); disagreements are calmer, more irritable than angry, and usually quickly settled. Making up after an argument involves intimacy and pillow talk. What does their future look like?: Serena genuinely doesn't know. She's almost afraid to think about the future, not wanting to have to acknowledge that she might have to say goodbye at some point. Mason, on the other hand, just assumes that she will always be there, and sees no need to bring it up in conversation. Anything else you’d like to share: Even after becoming official, he still loves teasing her, just because she always reacts with the same shy flutter he got from her the first time. It's even better when they're not alone.

BEST FRIEND RELATIONSHIP:

Best friend: Nate Why them?: He feels like a safe haven for her, someone she can be quiet with, who won't judge her for having moods and is happy to just hang out in silence. Nate is her confidante; everything she tells him is absolutely sacred and secret, and he will only use what he knows to nudge Mason if he's absolutely certain the problem is with him, not both of them. What were their first impressions of each other?: Serena's first thought was "tall". Nate thought she was adorable, at first. What do they do to spend time together?: Perhaps unsurprisingly, they spend a lot of time in the same room, reading different books, in comfortable silence. They also will visit museums and watch documentaries, and Serena loves picking his brain about the history he's lived and how it differs from what's taught and studied. She also got him into geo-caching, thanks to one day at a loss for how to spend time with both Nate and Mason without one or the other getting bored and weird. Anything else you’d like to share: Nate is the only person Mason will allow to play with Serena's hair. Anyone else touches it, he will start a fight, physical or otherwise.

OTHER RELATIONSHIPS:

Relationship with Rebecca: Awkward, but not hostile. Serena gets that her mother's job is the reason they never really spent time together, but she does still resent her for putting her career ahead of her daughter. They have a professional working relationship, but Serena has been burned too often to try for anything closer, no matter what Rebecca wants. Relationship with Rook: She never had one. She has no memories of her father, and Rebecca never talked about him. The closest thing she had to a father was the grumpy old man next door who let her smoke on his porch when she was twelve. Relationship with Bobby: Ex-boyfriend. Serena's first real love, she threw herself into it, shared everything with him ... and then he used what he knew to sell copies of his college paper. These days, she does her best to avoid him as much as possible,and when she can't, she tries to let him do all the talking so she won't give away how angry she still is with him for his behaviour when they were young. Relationship with Verda: Close and friendly, probably the closest to a true family dynamic she has before Unit Bravo enter her life. Hates keeping the secret from him, but knows him well enough to know that he would not take knowing it very well at all. Relationship with Tina: Roommates at college who never really grew out of each other, definitely more like sisters than friends. The only reason they don't live together is because Serena has issues with opening her home to random friend groups, and Tina definitely doesn't. They joined WPD at the same time, for different reasons, and most people attribute Serena's change in attitude to her friendship with Tina. Relationship with the Mayor: She cannot stand the man, but does her best to be professional and polite with him. Relationship with Capt. Sung: Professional, but uncomfortable. He is her superior and she obeys, but she knows he only gave her the job because he wanted to not have to be in the station daily. Relationship with Haley: Went to school together - not the closest of friends, not enemies, just were in the same friend group for a while. Haley was one of the few who did not back off from Serena when she went off the rails. Relationship with Elidor: Serena absolutely loves Elidor, especially those fantastic hugs he gives out! Relationship with Tapeesa: She thinks she's sweet, and will go out of her way to sneak her chocolate when she can. Not a friend, but not indifferent, either. Relationship with Unit Alpha: They're fun every now and then, but she doesn't like the way they tease Bravo. UB are her boys, she's got their backs no matter what. Relationship with the Maa-alused: More fascination than anything, but also considered to be a friendly ally by Falk and his kin. Serena's not sure quite what she thinks of them, and is a little afraid of their capabilities. Do they have any other important relationships, past or present? (Relatives, friends, etc.?): The most important relationship - her cat, Zeus. So named because, before she got him neutered, he'd fathered most of the kittens in the neighbourhood.

PERSONAL BIO:

Describe their personality: Friendly, warm, but doesn't take shit lying down. She can be relied upon to think of others as individuals, rather than part of a collective. Life does, on occasion, suck, but she's determined to suck back. Strengths: Kind, friendly, will break your nose if you push her Weaknesses: Keeps a lot to herself, insecure, shy at times Where in the world is their Wayhaven?: Scottish Highlands, south and a little east of Aberdeen What is their personal history?: Looked after by various neighbours after Rook's death when she was two, Serena didn't really see much of her mother at all during her formative or teenaged years. She was a good student in primary and middle, but started to go off the rails in secondary school, hanging with the "wrong" crowd, and being repeatedly picked up for drug possession, vandalism, and theft. Attended two years of university (age 18-20), where she met Tina and made fast friends with her. However, also dated Bobby and the break up was the catalyst for her dropping out and going home. Tina also dropped out around the same time. At a loss, and with no parental approval or disapproval, Serena went back to the old crowd, but this time was picked up during an attempt to jack a car. Because of her previous arrests, she was on the verge of getting jail time, but for the intervention of Rebecca, which resulted in Serena being put into community service with the police force of Wayhaven. She thrived in the role, and when her community service was over, both she and Tina joined the little police force together. Fast forward eight years, and the old detective retired, leaving a gap in the hierarchy. Serena suspects she was promoted purely because of who her father was and who her mother is, and resents both of them for it. If they weren’t a detective, what would their dream job be?: If there was a way to get paid for being curled up in a comfy chair, reading, that would be it.

RANDOM FACTS:

Zodiac sign: Pisces Hobbies: Reading, combat training, hiking Likes: Comforting patterns and soft textures, a good physical fight, hugs Dislikes: Being underestimated, getting drunk, the neighbours using all the hot water in the building before she showers Drink of choice: Coffee Starbucks order: Caramel macchiato Favorite food: Haley's maple pecan pastries Favorite color: Red/grey Favorite music: Classical piano Favorite genre (and favorite movie/book/etc): Action or romance. Favourite action film is Demolition Man; favourite romance book is Sense & Sensibility. Favorite season: Autumn

[horrible-writer-rain]

Away From the Edge Part 1

Trigger Warning: Attempted Suicide

A/N: This is unedited.

He was tired. Tired of the glares and harsh words from the people he called family. Tired of going home to an empty apartment because Luca was overseas on some mission that was classified. Tired of being the man behind when all he wanted was to save people. To do the one thing he was good at. He left a voicemail for Luca and one to both Luca’s twin sister and brother in Texas. His grip is tight on the railing but not from a fear of failing. No, he had resigned himself that he was going to die but only when he’s ready. He hopes Chris will forgive him, but he had written him a letter and had left it on his counter with Carla’s name on it. He knew she would give it to him. Luca would be pissed and heartbroken, but he had a good support system in their old team, his family, and his crew in Austin. He had left letters for the crew of the 118 as well. Left them on the counter as well. He had written a letter for every person in his life that he loved. It was up to them if they read it or not.

He lets out a breath when he hears a car stop. “Sir, please step away back over the railing.” He felt like he could cry. He knew that voice. “I’m good right where I am, ‘Thena.” He calls opening his eyes to look down. It was about a 40ft drop into freezing water so if the impact didn’t kill him then the hypothermia and subsequent drowning would. “Buck?” He hears her come closer. “What are you doing here, baby?” She asks and he shrugs. “I’m tired ‘Thena.” He tells her as a firetruck pulls up. “Anyone I can call?” She asks stepping closer and he shakes his head. “Stay where you are ‘Thena.” He warns and she stops moving. “Just you Bobby. Keep the others back.” He hears her speak into her radio. The 118 must have responded. Fuck. It was bad enough that he was going to jump in front of Athena but now his crew. The ones who have thrown insults and petty jabs his way. The ones who had a hand in causing this. His grip loosens and Athena lets out a strangled noise. “It’s Okay, ‘Thena.” He tries to reassure her.

“Why’d you have the rest of the crew stay back, Athena?” He hears Bobby, no captain Nash say his tone weary. He knows exactly when Captain Nash spots him. His breath audibly hitching. “Buck?” The use of his nickname and the concern in his voice has him letting out a harsh laugh. “It’s Buck now, is it?” He says finally turning around to face him. “Buck, you don’t have to do this.” He says stepping closer, but Athena holds her arm out. “Why should I listen to you? You’ve done nothing but belittle me since I got back. This isn’t your house, so I don’t have to follow your rules.” His voice is calm, and he looks over to where Hen, Chim, and Eddie have gotten out of the truck. He can see the horror in Hen’s eyes, and he feels kind of bad. She was the one who he confided in the most about being away from Luca. They had eventually bonded over their similar sexualities and marriages to people of the same sex.

“Eddie get me a harness.” Captain Nash says and he sees Eddie falter for a second before following the order. Chim stands beside Hen watching with wide eyes. No doubt trying to figure out how to explain what happened to Maddie. Hen is gripping her med bag tightly. “Think about the people that love you, Buck. Think about your family.” Captain Nash says and he turns his gaze once more to his captain. “My family consists of Luca Rizzoli and his family.” He says and Captain Nash shakes his head. “You’ve got us Buck.” Eddie says as he hands over the harness to his captain. He lets out another humorless laugh. “I’ve not had you since the bombing. I thought you were my best friend. But friends don’t call each other exhausting or shove them around. Family doesn’t belittle anything that’s ever happened to a member of said family.” Eddie looks guilty at his words. “Captain Nash, I used to think of you as a father figure. Now, I see that your no better than my own damn father who didn’t give a single shit about me. In a way this is your fault. You chose to lie to me about what happened. So, the only way I saw to get back to my family was to fight for it. I turned down 7 million dollars to get back to my family. It was never even about the money. I just wanted you back.” He pauses to take a breath before continuing.

“I knew it wasn’t going to be easy and I accepted that you all would be mad at me. I just didn’t expect for it to last a few months and involve being assaulted. You chose to leave me as the man behind. At first, I was fine with it. I knew you didn’t trust me. I figured I’d need to earn your trust back, but you never gave me the chance. Then after a while it just started to hurt. You had taken away my ability to help people in a way I loved. I wasn’t being shot at or have the threat of getting blown up and I wasn’t in some active warzone halfway across the world.” Captain Nash had put on the harness as he was talking but never took his eyes of him.

“Please, let us make this right.” Captain Nash pleads with him, but he shakes his head resolved to do what he had come here.

━━━━━━»»•••««━━━━━━

Athena’s phone goes off and he can see her struggle of whether to answer the phone or not. She answers it and her eyes widen. “It’s for you buck.” She says as she puts it on speaker. “Cariño talk to me.” The voice on the other end sounds concerned and slightly out of breath. He swallows around the forming lump in his throat. “Lu I-” His words are cut off as a shiver wracks through him. “I’m coming Cariño, don’t do anything stupid until I get there alright.” The voice says and he nods. “Alright.” The person on the phone lets out a breath before hanging up the phone. His jeep then comes into view before a figure in military fatigues is jumping out of the vehicle. The figure rushes over to where he and the others are at. “Move.” The figure demands grabbing onto Buck.

“I’m here, Cariño. Can you make it back over the railing?” The figure asks and he shakes his head. His body was starting to shake from exhaustion. The previous 24-hour shift and how ever long he was up here finally catch up to him. “Okay, can someone get me a harness?” The figure asks and Captain Nash hesitates, but Eddie follows through with the orders. “I’m a firefighter with the 126 and I used to be apart of BFD. I’m certified Captain and I’m not letting any of you touch him.” The figure snaps and keeps one hand on Buck as Eddie helps put the harness on. “Okay, Cariño. I need you to turn around slowly for me. Can you do that?” The figure asks and he nods turning around slowly. His foot slips and he can feel the figure’s, no his husband’s, grip tighten on him. “It’s okay, Lu.” He says lifting his arms a little so his husband can get his arms around him. He tries to help lift himself, but his husband tells him to relax so he does. Once over the edge arms wrap around him fully and he breathes in his husband. He flinches away from any other hands. “No! Don’t touch me!” He cries pushing closer to his husband startling the person reaching for him and the hands are drawn back quickly.

“I need to check him over.” Hen says eyeing Buck with worry, but his husband shakes his head. “I’m dual certified as a paramedic and firefighter. I also have some military medic training. Based on what I’ve observed he’s just dehydrated and exhausted.” His husband says running a hand up and down his back. He can her Hen move not arguing but Captain Nash and Eddie protest with Eddie trying to figure out the relationship between him and his husband. “Who are you?” Eddie asks defensively the anger clear in his voice. He flinches at the tone whimpering softly into his husband’s chest despite being almost the same height with his husband being 2 inches shorter. “My name is Luca. I’m Buck’s husband and I need you to back off. You aren’t helping.” His husband says and he finds his hands gripping his shirt tighter. He hears Hen come back and set something down before he hears his husbands voice in his ear. “I need to start an IV, but I need to get you into the Ambulance first. I’m not going anywhere.” He’s brought to a sense of panic at his husband’s words, but he nods his head in understanding.

He would have to go to the hospital. His breakdown would come much later. When he was finally alone with his husband and away from everybody else. “Can you walk?” He shakes his head and can’t help a small smile at his husband’s fond sigh. “You’re going to make me carry your 6’2 self over my shoulder.” He nods in response and his husband gets to his feet with him still clinging to him, but his legs go around his waist.

The others don’t comment on what they are witnessing and he’s glad. He didn’t need anymore “teasing” from them right now. He feels his husband climb into the ambulance and sit down on the gurney. “Can the paramedic hook you up to an IV?” He nods again sticking his arm out for Hen. She’s careful where she touches him only in places that are necessary to get the IV in. He closes his eyes and settles back against his husband.

The ride to the hospital was silent and filled with tension. He puts up a fight when they try to separate him from Luca. Enough that they have to sedate him. He fights the sedative for as long as he can his husband’s worried face the last thing he sees before finally succumbing to the sedative. He knew his husband would be there when he awoke or at least he hoped and that this was not all some dream.

[between-two-fandoms]

Hey! Do u write Reggie x Luke? (feel free to decline absolutely if you don't feel comfortable <3). In case: Luke finding Reggie after a bad fight with his father? Thank you anyway <3

Hi anon! 

I absolutely love the Reggie x Luke headcannon! I put the disclaimer on my ask box posts because I’ve had a few people be really annoying when I denied their request (insisting I had to take it ‘cause I’m a fic writer and all that). I hope you like reading this as much as I liked writing it! Your piece sort of got away from me so it’s under the cut!

~ R

Summary: When Reggie gets caught in the middle of one of his parent’s bad fights, he has nowhere else to turn but the studio. Injured and unsure of himself, Reggie calls Luke for help.

Rated T Because Reggie’s dad is a jerk who uses a few bad words.

He heard his parents fighting from the driveway on the way home from a long day at school. It didn’t sound like they were holding anything back this time. One fight away from a divorce, Reggie thought begrudgingly as he walked up the cracked pavement to his front door. After a beat of hesitation he dug his key out of his bag and slid it into the lock, walking into an all-too familiar scene. His dad seemed to be winning… if anything was won at the end of their fights Reggie was never able to figure out what it was. His dad’s back was turned to the doorway, so he didn’t see Reggie enter the house. His dad didn’t even acknowledge the sound of the closed door, he just kept railing into his mom. Continuing on his rant his dad was saying “-and do you think,” he shook his fist in the direction Reggie assumed his mom was standing. He stepped further into the room as his dad asked, “do you think I want to come home after a long day of work and not have dinner hot?” Reggie saw his mom, standing with her arms crossed and her shoulders pulled back. She seemed pissed off in her own right, and he really didn’t want to get in the middle of something this intense. His mom stepped forward, a dangerous sort of smile on her face.

“If you want to come home to a hot meal, come home on time.” His mom said through gritted teeth. Reggie’s dad scoffed,

“I’d be home on time if you weren’t an uneducated whore who can’t even hold down a fucking job!” Reggie winced, the anger wasn’t directed at him, but it didn’t stop him from feeling uncomfortable. He hated confrontations, even if he wasn’t a part of it. He shuffled closer to his mom, ready to jump in if his dad ended up getting violent.

“Mom, dad?” Reggie asked, voice squeaking. Heavy silence cut through the air, thicker than the thick crust pizza the band gets for dinner sometimes. His dad sighed heavily when he turned to face him, and Reggie suddenly found interest in his feet. He began to fiddle with the hem of his shirt, regretting saying anything.

“Reggie go upstairs to your room so your mom and I can finish this conversation,” his dad requested ordered, glaring back at his mom. Reggie hesitated then said,

“Sir I have uh… band practice later tonight.” His dad groaned,

“Do you have to go though? You’re killing my mileage and it’s such a waste of gas money.” His mom shifted her weight, scratching her arm awkwardly. Reggie ran a hand through his hair,

“Uh I guess I uh… don’t have to go today. We were just brushing up on a few of our older songs…” He trailed off and his dad deemed that the end of the conversation. Turning his attention back to his mom his dad said,

“Now what do you say to your son hmm? We don’t have the gas money to keep driving him to that kid’s house. How’s he supposed to play his music?” Instead of apologizing, Reggie’s mom just narrowed her eyes. Bobby’s house wasn’t even that far from theirs, just on the ‘richer’ side of the neighborhood. His dad always got petty when he had to drive through it to drop Reggie off.

“The reason behind us not having enough money for gas is because you keep dipping into the jar for your weekend benders. God knows why I ever married you in the first place!” It happened in slow motion, Reggie diving in front of his father’s glass just as he threw it at his mom. The glass shattered across Reggie’s face and a large chunk got stuck in his cheek. He collapsed to the floor, curling up as his parents continued fighting with each other. Reggie managed to crawl out of the room, leaving a thin trail of blood behind him. With slight effort he carefully pulled the shard of glass out of his cheek and winced in pain. Breathing heavily Reggie used the wall for support as he pulled himself to a standing position. He held one hand against his cheek as he fumbled in his pockets for his phone. He flipped it open and pressed one to speed dial Luke.

“Pick up,” Reggie half-whispered as he pushed his door open and stumbled into the sunlight. “Pick up Luke, come on.”

“Hey Reggie what’s up man?” Luke asked, voice floating through the speaker. Reggie sagged in relief, but pushed forward, trying to put as much distance between him and his parents as possible. A strangled sob escaped his throat,

“Luke,” Reggie said as he managed to turn the corner to their favorite hot dog stand.

“Reggie, what’s wrong? Where are you?” Luke asked sounding rushed. He shouted something Reggie couldn’t make out, probably to Alex. “Reggie you still with me?” Luke asked. Reggie sagged low into Luke’s couch, luckily no one else was in the studio. Digging through his bag he dug out a spare t-shirt and pressed it against his cheek.

“Studio, Luke it got really bad…” Reggie said, tears starting to roll down his face.

“I’ll be there in three minutes. Alex and I were just taking a break down the street.” Luke said. Reggie shook his head quickly, then realized Luke couldn’t see him.

“No, just you please!” Reggie cried out, he couldn’t let Alex see him like this. No one else should burden themselves by seeing him like this. Luke would’ve found out sooner or later, but Alex never had to know. Luke sounded out of breath, like he was sprinting from the restaurant just to make sure Reggie was safe.

“Alright, hang in there. I’m almost at the studio,” Luke said between pants. Reggie’s hand started to shake and he ended up dropping his phone, and didn’t have the energy to pick it up again. He tried to stay awake, to stay strong for Luke… but his sight got hazy and soon the ceiling disappeared under his eyelids. Through the haze Reggie suddenly heard Luke’s familiar voice urging him to wake up.

“Help,” Reggie croaked out as he felt something sticky attach itself to his cheek. Luke’s guitar-calloused fingers combed through Reggie’s hair. “Hmm…” Reggie hummed with content, snuggling closer to the wall of heat against his chest.

“Hey, hey, I know it’s hard, but you need to wake up Reg…” Luke said as Reggie’s eyes slowly blinked open. When he finally made eye contact with his boyfriend a watery grin smiled at him.

“Hi,” Reggie whispered as he pressed a soft kiss against Luke’s forehead. Luke let out a soft giggle. Reaching up to touch his cheek he felt a rather large band-aid somehow got stuck to it. Luke hummed softly to the tune a song Reggie didn’t recognize. It must be a new song he hadn’t shared with the rest of the band yet. “‘s pretty,” Reggie muttered, he always found it was easiest to relax when he was with Luke. Luke’s stupid grin stretched across his face and Reggie knew complimenting the song was the right call.

“Thanks,” Luke said. “Just something I’ve been toying with.” He paused, and Reggie could see the concern written across his face. “Do you want to uh… what happened?” Luke asked, and Reggie couldn’t bring himself to lie to his friend.

“Dad threw a glass at mom and I jumped in the way… Luke it was so, so bad this time. I don’t know what to do… I want them to stay together and I try so hard but they just keep fighting.” Reggie choked back a sob and Luke’s expression softened as he cupped Reggie’s uninjured cheek. Reggie leaned into the touch gratefully.

“It’s not your job to keep your parents together,” Luke said and Reggie looked away from him. “You know that, right?” Luke asked him, worry in his voice. Reggie shrugged,

“I don’t know man... sometimes it feels like the only reason they haven’t divorced yet is because of me.” Luke’s lips curved into a slight frown.

“So... I had this idea awhile ago…” Luke started, before trailing off. Reggie urged him to continue so he did. “Do you wanna move into the studio with me? You shouldn’t have to keep going home just for a place to sleep if it’s going to put you in harm’s way Reg. I just want you to be safe.” Reggie nodded as he closed his eyes and leaned against Luke’s chest.

“I would love to, especially if it means spending more time with my boyfriend,” Reggie said, and he didn’t have to look up to know Luke’s happy-puppy-dog expression had returned. “Love you Luke,” Reggie said as the two settled in for the rest of the night. Luke wrapped his arms around Reggie then said,

“I love you too Reginald.” Reggie sighed happily as he let the sound of Luke’s soft breathing lull him back into a peaceful night of sleep.

[leviathancas]

if only for a moment

AO3

Destiel | Gen | 3.8k | 5x20 Coda | Fix-It Of Sorts

It’s nice out here, is his first thought, elbows on the railing as he stares out into the horizon.

Standing at the bridge where their journey started, the sound of rushing water below them and carefree birds above them, the feeling of Sam’s familiar warmth beside him, Dean could almost say that he was content.

Almost.

He knows there’s something missing, and he knows that Sam knows it, too. His little brother keeps shooting him these glances, paired with furrowed brows and that sad, puppy-eyes that never had an effect on him (and Dean doesn’t even acknowledge the lie).

Dean doesn’t point it out when they eventually get back into the car, driving back to Harvelle’s Roadhouse where Dean started. Bobby’s not there anymore, and the bar isn’t lively, but that doesn’t stop Sam and Dean from sitting outside and cracking open a beer, where Dean stares up at the orange-pink-purple sky.

“Were you happy?” Dean eventually asks, taking a sip of his crappy beer. The flavor is tinged with nostalgia and emotions, and the memories of all the times he did this with his brother comes to mind—the two of them sat on the Impala’s hood, taking a moment to enjoy the quiet bubble that they made.

Sam huffs out a laugh and dusks his head, his hair getting in his face. “Yes,” he says. “And no.”

Dean leans back against the chair and waits, staring at his baby brother (because even though Sam’s a giant, towering over him even up in Heaven, he’s always going to be Dean’s baby brother).

“It was a good life,” Sam says after a while, tearing the label off the beer bottle. “I found married Eileen, and we had a son. I didn’t have to worry about dying every day, and I didn’t have to run myself into the ground to save the world.” He lifts his head and there’s a sad little smile on his face. “But I didn’t have you.”

“Sam…” Dean breathes. He watches his brother for a moment and then runs a hand down his face before pushing himself up off the creaking chair. When Sam looks up at him, eyes shining and confused, he gestures for him to get up.

Sam gets up without question, always so trusting of Dean no matter what’s happening, and Dean stares up into his little brother’s eyes, seeing the years of sorrow and grief weighing him down.

“Hey, Sammy,” he says quietly, and spreads his arms the way he used to when they were kids, and little Sammy needed a hug. “I’m here.”

And Sam practically dives into them, wrapping his arms around Dean and clinging to him. Dean says nothing as squeezes him, rubbing circles into Sam’s back with his thumb. His eyes burn when he feels wet tears drip onto his neck, when he feels the way Sam’s body shakes with barely-restrained sobs, but he doesn’t let go of him, he won’t let go of him. Not then, not now, and not ever.

“S’okay, Sammy,” he murmurs, repeating the words that he said countless times before. “Just let it all out, Sammy. I’m here, I’m here…”

Sam’s crying tapers off eventually, and he pulls back, wiping at his eyes with the sleeve of his jacket. Dean lets him do it and takes a moment to wipe at his own, letting out a breath. The sky is starting to darken, the moon slowly rising and the stars making their appearance.

“We’re gonna be together again,” Dean says, nodding to himself. He squints in the direction where Bobby said his parents were and nods again. “I think I’d like to live in the bunker again,” he says. “I’m sure our rooms will look the same, and you’re free to stay with me whenever you’d like.”

“Heaven’s different now,” Sam murmurs. His eyes are red-rimmed, but he looks calmer, happier. “I think I’d like that.”

“Apparently, Jack had a hand in this,” Dean replies, gesturing to the field in front of him. A proud smile flickers onto his face because yep, his kid did all this. “Broke the walls down and everything. We can go wherever we want, and visit whoever we like.”

“Jack, huh?” And there’s a note of pride in Sam’s voice as well. Good. “Knew he had it in him.”

“We did good,” Dean comments, clapping his brother on the back. “We did real good with that one.”

Sam laughs and scratches the side of his nose. “I guess we did,” he says. He tips his head back, looking up at the star-lit sky. “Wonder if he’s around here, somewhere.”

“Probably,” Dean muses. “He’ll stop by and visit us when he’s free, I’m sure. Kid can’t stray too far from his Dads.”

Sam snorts. “I’m more like the Uncle,” he replies. “You and—” His face falls, mouth twisting. “Sorry,” he mumbles. “I wasn’t thinking.”

Pain, sharp and familiar, wells up in his chest. Dean has the sudden urge to lurch forward in panic, clutching at it, but he just barely manages to resist. He settles for clenching his fist at his side, fighting with the emotions for a bit, and then he exhales, and relaxes, recalling Bobby’s earlier words.

“I think Jack got him out,” he says, glancing at him. “Bobby said that Cas helped him out here, and I doubt that Jack would wanna let his other Dad rot in the Empty.” His breath mists out in front of him when he exhales, and he doesn’t voice the thought haunting him.

But I haven’t seen him, and I wish I could.

“That’s good, then,” Sam replies, sounding hesitant, a hint of a question lurking in his words—will you look for him?

Dean shakes his head, and then he shrugs; I don’t know yet.

He figures that Cas is busy doing Angelic things for Jack, probably enjoying life outside of the Empty, probably spreading his wings and flying over the world that he loves. Or maybe, just maybe, he’s avoiding Dean—the remnants of their final time lingering in his head like it does in Dean’s head, the echo of his voice loud in the silence:

I love you.

They stand together, silent, contemplating, while Dean’s mind is a mess of thoughts. He swallows hard and blinks rapidly when his eyes start burning again.

I didn’t say anything, Dean wants to say. I couldn’t stop the Empty from taking him, I couldn’t properly react to his confession, I couldn’t save him from being stuck in there for eternity.

I didn’t say it back, Sammy. Why didn’t I say it back?

“He’ll be around,” Dean says instead, voice rough. He takes a seat again and reaches for his still-cold beer, staring at the Impala so Sam won’t see the tears in his eyes. “We’ll see him soon enough.”

Sam doesn’t say anything, but he does scoot his chair closer and shifts his foot until their boots are touching, and that’s enough. That’s more than enough for now.

❧ ❧ ❧

He’s at Harvelle’s Roadhouse when everything slots into place, manning the bar while Ellen and Jo go off to visit Bill, and Ash somewhere on the tech side of Heaven. Dean didn’t really pay attention to that whole explanation, just waved him off and said he’d stay. Sam’s with Eileen, who finally made it up here, while Bobby’s with Karen. No other person has decided to stroll into this place while he’s been here, so Dean grabbed a beer and took a seat on one of the stools, listening to the music drifting from the jukebox.

The door opens with a wooden creak, and Dean lifts his beer in greeting, not looking in that direction. He’s gotta be a good host. “What can I get for ya?” he drawls, already leaning over the counter to grab another, just in case. “We’ve got everything you’d want in here.”

There’s a beat, the sound of something rustling; clothes, maybe (or feathers, his traitorous mind whispers), and then—

“Hello, Dean.”

Dean’s head snaps toward the door, the bottle slipping from his fingers, but there’s no shattering. He knows that the bottle will be in the spot it originally was in, looking as pristine as before. “Cas,” he breathes, eyes wide. “Is it really you?”

The Angel stands a few feet away from him, tan trench coat draped across his shoulders, blue tie on backwards, messy black hair still imperfect, and blue eyes piercing his soul (quite literally, now). He stands tall, observing him with a cocked head, but Dean can see his nerves in the way he fidgets ever so slightly, in the way he slips his hands into the pockets of his coat.

“Yes,” he says, and his familiar rough voice threatens to undo Dean. “It’s me.”

Dean should go over there and hug him, but he’s frozen, heart stuttering in his chest. All that pain, all that grief, washes over him, threatening to drag him under the waves and drown him. He swallows around the lump in his throat and stares down at the counter, blinking away the wetness in his eyes.

(He’s been crying too much, these days.)

“W-What—” Dean starts. Stops. Swallows again. It’s hard to speak right now, hard to put thoughts into words, and he feels like a kid, small and hurting, but with a big responsibility on his shoulders. He clears his throat and tries again. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to see you,” Cas says, stepping further into the bar. He stops, inches away, and hums, giving a small shake of his head. “No, that’s not right. I wanted to see you.”

And you couldn’t have seen me sooner, when I died? Dean wonders. He realizes that he said it out loud when he sees the stricken look on Cas’s face. His mouth clicks shut and he slides back onto the stool, directing his stare to the floor.

“I’m sorry, Dean,” Cas says quietly. “I wanted to visit you right away, but I was just…” He trails off and then releases a huff. Frustration lurks beneath his words when he continues, “I suppose I was afraid of seeing you, afraid of what you’d say. Perhaps you’d be angry with me for not saving you, for allowing Sam to live a life with his brother.”

“I was mad,” Dean admits, and shakes his head. “But not at you, Cas. I was mad at the world, I guess, and I was mad at myself.” He lets out a short, sad laugh. “I mean, for the first time in a long time, I was happy with life—no plans for us, no world-ending events that we needed to stop, just a typical monster hunt. And it wasn’t even the monster that got me! Just a stupid rusty nail and my stupid mistake.” Another laugh, this one humorless. “A typical human death for Dean Winchester.”

“You deserved to go out the way Sam did,” Cas says. “Old and gray, with your children and grandchildren beside you.”

Dean barks out a real laugh, shaking his head. “M’not like Sammy,” he replies with a wry smile. “That apple pie life? It ain’t for me, it never was. I tried it, remember? And then I screwed up by going back to being a Hunter.” He shrugs. “That’s what I was always meant to do, Cas. Save people, hunt things, and all that.” Dean wets his lips and glances at Cas, quickly adding, “Besides, I doubt I’d find the right person. Not the way Sam did.”

“You would have,” Cas insists. “Eventually, you would have gotten there.”

Dean takes a long sip of beer in an attempt to give himself some liquid courage, feeling almost light-headed from nerves. He lets out a breath and says, finally, “If I tried, then it wouldn’t matter to me, because they wouldn’t be you.”

He hears Cas’s sharp inhale, but receives no response. Dean’s heart pounds in his ears, loud enough to drown out the soft, slow song that’s playing in the bar. He wants to continue, but his throat seems to close up before he can make a sound, and he stews in silence, chewing on his bottom lip.

“I can’t say it,” Dean eventually blurts out. He fiddles with the label on the beer bottle, staring at the condensation slowly dripping down the neck. “I really want to, Cas, but I just can’t. I don’t have good experiences with it, and I’m afraid I’ll mess it all up.”

“Dean,” Cas says gently. “You don’t have to.”

“But I want to,” Dean says. He looks up at the Angel, who’s gazing at him with his head cocked in that bird-like way of his. “I’m just asking if you’ll be patient with me, s’all.”

“Of course,” Cas replies, face softening. He edges closer to the bar and rests a hand on Dean’s arm, and Dean feels electricity shoot down his spine. Even through the layers of his clothes, it still feels like that. “Dean, you don’t need to say it to keep my affection for you. I have loved you for what felt like eons, and that won’t go away because you can’t say it back just yet.”

Heat creeps up to Dean’s cheeks (he can still blush in Heaven??), and he resists the urge to avert his gaze. “Well, when you put it that way…” he mumbles.

“Besides,” Cas adds. “You might not be able to say it, but your soul is quite open with your feelings for me. Especially up here in Heaven.”

“And what does that mean?” Dean asks warily. “You’re peeking at my feelings? That’s a little rude, Cas.”

Cas rolls his eyes, a very human gesture that Dean’s surprised to see (he suspects that Cas learned it from Sam since he was prone to do that once every single day). “It’s unintentional, I assure you,” Cas says. “There were times when I couldn’t help but glimpse at your soul, particularly when the day was hard, and it soothed me more than it should.”

His hand slides up to Dean’s shoulder, where the handprint once lay, and Dean feels an all-too-familiar tingle—the time when he’d curl his hand around his bicep, staring at his reflection in various motel bathrooms, and reminding himself that it wasn’t a dream. “What do you mean?” he asks, voice a little husky.

“Your soul is beautiful,” Cas says simply, but there’s a touch of reverence to his words, wonder. “I’ve known that since I first saw you.”

“In the barn?”

The corner of his lips quirk. “That was not our first meeting,” Cas says. “You may have forgotten, but I remember the moment I found Dean Winchester’s soul after storming the gates of Hell.” He takes a seat on the stool beside Dean, but his hand remains on his bicep. “You shined so brightly,” he murmurs, sounding distant and airy, as if lost in the memory. “Despite what Hell had done, you still shined brighter than the rest of the souls trapped down there, and you were a beacon that led me to you.”

“My soul?” Dean asks incredulously. He looks down at himself, not seeing anything different.

“You cannot perceive it the way that I do,” Cas informs him. “My ‘angel vision,’ as you would say, allows me to do so without any difficulty.”

Dean swallows, and now he has to look away from the intensity of Cas’s blue eyes. “And how does that relate to you being able to see my soul-feelings?” he asks. “I don’t think I was feeling anything nice in Hell.”

“That came after,” Cas replies softly. “Dean, your soul is filled with love—for Sam, for your car, for the world, for all the people that came into your life. You, Dean Winchester, are a being made from love, and you were made to love. Your soul grows brighter around the people you care for, and it dims when they’re away.” There’s a small smile on his face when Dean looks up at him, and the affection threatens to undo him. “Your soul is beautiful,” Cas says again. “And I know you return my feelings because of it.”

“What—” Dean pauses, wets his lips, and tries again, “What does it do when I’m around you?”

“It outshines everyone in the room,” Cas answers, and now he’s even closer. This time, Dean feels a nervous, fluttery feeling in his stomach. “You radiate so many positive feelings when I’m near, Dean, and your soul reaches for my Grace.”

“Why does it do that?” Dean wonders.

He’s surprised to see Castiel looking so nervous, all of a sudden. “When I raised you from Hell,” he speaks slowly. “I put you back together myself. I purged the demon touch from your soul and healed all the wounds that were inflicted upon you, and I used my own grace to stitch the pieces together until you were pure, whole, and new.”

“Your…” Dean touches his chest with wide eyes. “I have your Grace in me?” He doesn’t know how he feels about the idea yet, but he can’t deny that there’s a part of him that’s pleased over having a piece of Cas with him.

“I—yes. You have some of my Grace in your soul, and I used to wonder if your soul was just reacting that way in an attempt to unite with me, seeking more Grace.” Cas shakes his head. “But that wasn’t the case, Dean. The feelings became apparent, and I realized that it was not seeking to merge with my Grace. Your soul wanted to be with my Grace, yes, but for a different reason—similar to the way a soul reaches for another soul when they care for them so deeply.” And then, Cas smiles, soft and happy as he says, “The way soulmates do.”

“The way soulmates do,” Dean repeats, dazed. “And you believe that we’re—” His mouth snaps shut and he swallows, something akin to hope rising in his chest.

“Dean,” Cas says, voice low and serious. “What I feel for you is something that I’ve never felt before, not for another human, nor an Angel. I love humanity, and my brethren, and I even love the small family that we made in that bunker, but it’s not the same as what I feel for you.”

“Cas…” Dean breathes.

And Castiel straightens, and Dean sees the shadow of wings curving towards him, flickering in and out of existence until they’re suddenly there, sleek black feathers that take his breath away. “Dean,” he says in a soft, tender voice, similar to the way he said it in those quiet moments that they had, just the two of them in a shared space. “I believe it to be true.”

“You do?” Dean asks quietly.

“Yes,” Cas replies. “I grew to love you not because we were destined to be through Cupid’s arrow, but because you’re you. ” He pauses, licks his lips, and then his wings are gone; Dean misses them already. “Destiny never mattered when it came to us,” he adds. “You taught me that, Dean, and I will always believe that to be true. We found each other in spite of everything that the world threw at us, and we became soulmates on our own.”

“Cas,” Dean whispers, and he doesn’t dare try to hide his longing. It feels like it’s all he can say right now, all he can think, and if he was alive, he knows that his heart would beat to the sound of his name—Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas, Cas.

“Dean,” Cas murmurs, and there’s that touch of reverence to his voice again, like Dean’s name is the only thing he should know, like Dean’s the only one that deserves his prayers. “Dean.”

And Dean leans in, ears catching the sound of Cas’s hitched breath, eyes catching the way his pupils dilate. “Will you say it again?” he asks, hand trembling just so. “Please?”

“I love you,” Castiel, the Angel who rebelled for humanity, the Angel who fell for him, says. “I love you, Dean Winchester. I love you so much that I don’t know what to do with myself. I loved you then, I love you now, and I’ll love you until the end of time itself.”

Dean kisses him.

It’s not like what those movies make it out to be when you kiss the love of your life, no. There are no fireworks exploding in his head, no sparks traveling through his body. There’s just a sense of rightness flooding through him, a warmth blooming his chest, and the feeling of coming home.

Cas hand clutches his bicep, still resting over where his handprint used to be, and he tilts his head as he kisses back. Dean presses closer to him, closer to the warmth emanating from the Angel, and distantly thinks that maybe it’s what Cas means—his soul reaching for his Grace, desperate to be together.

Dean’s breathing raggedly by the time they break, and Cas isn’t any better. They stare into each other’s eyes, and Dean feels a rush of affection for Cas, so strong and overwhelming that he has to tip his head forward onto the Angel’s shoulder and clutch him tightly.

“I’m glad you’re here,” he chokes out.

Cas returns the embrace. “There’s no place I’d rather be than by your side,” he says.

❧ ❧ ❧

And it’s when they’re under the star-lit sky, walking home after having dinner with the Winchester family, days, weeks, months after the reunion, that Dean finally makes his confession.

The moon shines down on them, the cool breeze tickles his cheeks, and the night birds sing their songs. Cas’s hand is warm in his, their fingers threaded together, and their silence is comfortable, soothing.

Dean lets out a breath and then glances at Cas, smiling at the content look he sees on his face. Affection rushes through him and when Dean opens his mouth to call Cas’ name, maybe ask him if they want to stop by somewhere and get some pie, what comes out is a soft, confident,

“I love you.”

Cas looks over at him, eyes wide and lips parted, and Dean’s certain he’s wearing a similar expression. He hadn’t meant for it to come out like that, but now that he’s thinking about it, he’s okay with saying those words to Cas right now. It’s not like they needed a romantic dinner or something—it was a moment with just them, nothing more, nothing less.

A smile tugs at his lips again when Cas’s face softens, and then they stop walking to face each other. Cas presses their foreheads together and hums, as he’s prone to do whenever he’s pleased by something.

“Will you say it again?” Cas murmurs. “Please?”

And Dean doesn’t hesitate. “I love you,” he repeats, no waver, only warmth. “I love you, Castiel—Cas. I love you, I love you, I love you.” He pairs each declaration with a kiss, until he’s got his arms wrapped around Cas, melting into the kiss that carries all of the love they share.

He wouldn’t have Heaven any other way.