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one-more-offbeat-anthem · 3 years

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have a conversation

for @dadstielweek day 4: misunderstandings

So they defeat Chuck, and then Jack fucks off to do celestial entity shit, and then Sam goes on an urgent find-Eileen mission, and Dean is left alone in the bunker.

(Well, Sam is coming back. At some point.)

Dean contemplates drowning himself in whiskey, thinks about what Cas would say, and then decides to deep-clean the entire bunker instead. By the time Sam finally comes back, with Eileen in tow, Dean’s got this awful, jittery energy all the time, so he takes to praying to Jack in the mornings.

(He would do Cas, but, uh. Cas. Yeah.)

On day twenty-three of Dean’s ongoing pray-to-my-weird-godly-son-thing breakdown (that includes a lot of where the fuck is Cas? and please come back, Jack, we still have your room set up), the aforementioned cosmic entity, junior edition, shows up at breakfast.

Sam jumps and Dean spills half his coffee, but Jack just waves serenely. “Hello!” he says brightly. “I’m back.”

“I can see that,” Dean replies, trying to sop up his coffee with his napkin.

“And he’s not alone,” another voice says, and then Dean spills the rest of his coffee, because it’s Cas and Cas is in his kitchen and Cas is alive and--

“You dumb sonofabitch,” Dean practically growls after he’s been hugging Cas for an embarrassingly long time in front of everyone, “Never do that again.”

“Okay,” Cas says, and Dean believes him.

Breakfast after that is a joyous affair--Eileen and Cas sign rapidly across the table about something (Dean doesn’t catch all of it but from what he does understand he thinks Eileen is updating Cas on what happened to Chuck), and Sam produces a box of sugary cereal for Jack, and it’s all awesome.

Well.

Mostly.

Because Jack and Cas are supposed to be in each other’s orbits. Sure, all of them had a hand in raising the kid, but Cas is Jack’s honest-to-god (maybe a little too soon for that turn of phrase) family. Dean remembers vividly how bent up Cas was those times that Jack died--and how Jack took the news that Cas was gone, after that night in the dungeon. That’s a father-and-son duo right there if Dean has ever seen one.

But they won't look at each other.

Dean tries not to read too much into it, but the whole day, they’re never alone in the same room, and when Dean offers that maybe they could take Miracle on a walk, Cas backs out as soon as Jack volunteers.

Dean definitely has ulterior motives when it comes to dragging Cas to his room when Cas tries to slither off that night (namely: kiss him like it’s going out of style in an attempt to make up for the last decade and some change), but after the long-awaited make-out session, Dean can’t help but ask the question that’s been on his mind.

“What’s up with you and Jack?”

Beside him in the bed, Cas stiffens. “We, uh...had a disagreement.”

Dean cranes his head to look at Cas, who is currently using Dean as a pillow. “You’ve been back for fourteen hours! What did you disagree about?”

Cas sighs. “After resurrecting me, Jack took me first to Heaven to show me what he had done. It was impressive--he started redesigning the whole thing. But, uh, I don’t know how it came up...but he started asking about me dying.” Cas lifts his head, and Dean sees his eyes welling up with tears. “He’s angry with me, Dean. And I don’t know what to do.”

“Okay.” Dean attempts to gather all of the reassurance he can muster. “First of all, he’s not even four years old yet. When Sam was four, he would get mad about someone changing the TV channel. If someone in his family up and died, he would probably be even more upset.” Dean has to stop for a moment as his brain catches up to his analogy and he remembers that he was four when his mom died and he stopped fucking talking for a year.

“That’s true.”

“And maybe you two just need to get real about it, y’know? A good old fashioned conversation.”

“Ah, yes, something you have often.”

“Shut up,” Dean says, and then he kisses Cas again to make that command stick.

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

Despite the warmth and contentment that come from having someone in your bed, Dean still wakes up at the asscrack of dawn because he can’t sleep, and he finds himself in the kitchen, contemplating making something extravagant for everyone for breakfast since he has the time. French toast, maybe?

He goes on a journey to find suitable bread in the pantry and then drops said bread on the ground when he turns to see Jack standing in front of him.

“Gonna put a bell on you,” Dean mutters, bending to pick up the bread. “What’s up, kid?”

Jack looks nervous. “It’s Cas.”

“Go on.” Dean leads them back into the kitchen and starts rooting through the fridge for eggs and milk. “Spill.”

“I--” Jack sighs heavily, a twin to Cas’s sigh earlier, and Dean thinks that it really is uncanny how alike they are. He leans against the counter heavily. “We argued.”

“What about?” Dean asks. Nutmeg, that’s what he needs next. Sam was the one to use it last, so it’s probably somewhere really fucking weird.

“...I’m angry.” Jack sounds shattered, and Dean pauses. Jack looks up at him, eyelashes wet and voice small. “Why am I still mad at him, Dean? I brought him back! He’s here!”

Dean remembers being really pissed off when Cas pulled Sam out of the pit, upset that Sam even jumped in. So he thinks he knows what he wished someone would have said then, and he pulls Jack to the kitchen table.

“Sometimes,” Dean starts, “People we love do things that make us upset.”

“Like dying?” Jack asks.

Dean lets out a low laugh. “In this family, yes. But being upset with them doesn’t mean we don’t love them. In fact, it might even make us angrier, that we love them and they pissed us off.”

Jack nods.

“So,” Dean decides to give Jack the same advice he gave Cas. “Maybe you should just try to have a conversation with him about it. Tell him how it felt that he was gone.”

Jack slowly nods again. “I think I’ll do that.” He gets up and throws his arms around Dean’s neck. “Thank you, Dean.”

Dean sits there, stunned, for at least a minute.

Maybe Cas’s paternal nature is rubbing off on him.

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

Cas announces after lunch that he’s going out, and then Jack says, “Me too,” and they fool absolutely no one.

Dean spends the afternoon making meatballs for dinner (in addition to becoming Mr. Clean since Cas died, he’s become Martha Stewart), and hopes, when he hears the bunker door slam, that it’s a good sign.

“You’ve got something on your face,” Dean says to Jack when he walks into the kitchen with a smear of chocolate across his cheek.

“We got ice cream!” Jack says.

“It was delicious,” Cas adds, following Jack in. His expression as he looks at Jack is warm and full, not the hard-edged sadness of yesterday, and Dean breathes an internal sigh of relief.

As it turns out, though, they did not bring ice cream for everyone else. Disappointing.

#dadstiel week #I struggled with today's prompt so I hope this is adequate?#offbeatwrites #TIME TO TAG SOME FOLKS #AHHHH #friendshapedcastiel #userstarry #chocolatecakecas #userdainty #kashmircastiel #userdorksinlove #anyways #:)

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echoweaver · 3 years

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Your thoughts on the Sims 1-4

Guess I’m in the mood to do these. Grabbing a tag from @mosneakers.

Sims 1: The big thing I remember about this game is that it could take your sim hours to cross from one end of the house to the other. Thus, if the sim got up at the normal one-hour-before-work, they often wouldn’t have time to both pee and eat. I got obsessed with designing and efficient house, with the kitchen right outside the bedroom door, so that my sims could get to work with the best mood.

Then I let the garden go bad, and it would destroy my sims’ mood on the way to the carpool, and it took me forever to figure out what was going on :-D

Sim 2: I remember being thrilled by how much easier it was for sims to get around their house. The introduction of lifespans intrigued me. However, I hadn’t really figured out what I wanted to DO with this sandbox game yet. Playing Sims gets boring if you don’t have some kind of a goal. I’d never heard of a generational challenge, much less rotational gameplay, and I hadn’t plugged into the fan community yet.

I did dabble in mods -- mostly the mod to drastically increase the chance of a sim being abducted when using the telescope so I could make alien babies. I built a household from two CAS-built sisters who were of different races. One of them married a man, and the other a woman, and then I got frustrated that the lesbian couple couldn’t make babies. They adopted, but I was annoyed by how genetically boring their adopted son was. Then I got obsessed with trying to get one of the lesbians to cheat on her spouse to make a baby without being discovered. Where is artificial insemination when you need it?

Later, I created a new sim who married into the Broke family. I got bored and tried to starve Dustin to death to make a ghost. when I removed the door to his bedroom and his needs got very low, he got down on his knees to beg the Watcher for his life. I felt so guilty that I actually turned off the game and never went back!

Sims 3: This is where it happened for me. Open world and a town that aged with my active household just better matches the way I imagine playing. I even figured out generational play, at least somewhat, before really plugging into the fan community.

I didn’t realize until reading @mosneakers and @natolesims‘s memes that there was so much hate floating around for Sims 3 art style! I admit that I do dislike the child faces. I thought Sims 2 faces were too long and thin. Sims 3 faces seem to have overcompensated by being just a bit too round. Otherwise, I’m quite sure I don’t know what you guys are talking about. LOL.

I don’t think I’d still be playing if it weren’t for NRaas, though. Sims 3′s open world was pretty ambitious, and their data management was totally not up to the task. I spent years offering tech support on people’s blogs when they started to suffer data corruption in generation 2 or 3. You just can’t play without at least minimal mods to clean up save files. It’s unintuitive that a modded game is more stable than vanilla, but it’s just true. Sad, but true.

Sims 4: I have played this very little, not because I hate it but because I am stubbornly determined to finish my 10-generation legacy. A lot of folks just rebuilt their household in Sims 4 and continued to play. At the time Sims 4 came out, I was playing supernatural-heavy games with custom skintones, so I’d lose almost everything if I ported them over. It also turns out that it’s hard to face going from a heavily-modded, 11-expansion experience to a game with base or just one expansion. I have a lot more sympathy for Sims 2 players who skipped Sims 3 entirely.

I have a hard time facing the color presets and closed world, but the game in its current state really seems to have done great things with gameplay. If/when I get the Samples done, I’ll take a look at making the switch. Of course, by then Sims 5 will likely be out, so maybe I’ll skip....

What is your favorite Expansion pack

Generations and/or Seasons. But it’s really hard to choose.

Small pets or Horses?

I really, really love Sims 3 horses. Since I’m modding pets, it can probably be guessed that I like the animals in general :).

What is your favorite active career?

Yes.

I have had a ton of fun with almost all active careers. If forced to choose, I might go for firefighter.

What is your favorite Lifetime Wish?

Buh. I really dug the Photography one I guess. I just like doing different ones.

Whims or Wants?

I’m sorry. I have no idea what this question even means (blush).

What is your favorite Occult?

I feel like all the occults in TS3 are kind of underdeveloped. That said, witches are pretty cool.

Cowplants, Bonehilda, or the Social Bunny?

Bonehilda

How do you pick your sims names?

I am absolutely OBSESSED with names. I’m sorry I only got to name one flesh-and-blood child, so I let it all out in naming my simmies. I get into the head of the parent(s) and come up with lists from whatever they would like. My saves are very gameplay-directed, and tend to randomize most traits, so I intentionally don’t build a sim to a name or try to make a sim’s name suit their personality at all. After all, when we name our children, we get no say over who they eventually become :).

Do you create a spouse for a sim, or do you go after a townie?

Townie! My gaming style is heavily gameplay-oriented. I want my sims to choose their partner using wishes and attraction and whatever else the game provides. However, I also am incredibly interested in genetic experimentation, so I do allow myself to change the physical appearance of some sims before making babies with them if they are too bland. I populated my Samples save from scratch, largely using downloaded simalikes of real people. I have NRaas set to use existing sims in the town or in my sim bin, to generate new ones. So basically I do my best to have the most interesting genetics pool I can so I don’t need to edit faces.

Do you prefer to follow storytelling Simblrs, or do your prefer gameplay Simblrs?

I’m not totally sure what this is asking either :-D. Are “storytelling” simblrs the ones that largely use the game as an artistic medium for screenshots using poses and whatnot? My play style is to play the game and build stories from it, so I’m not entirely sure what category I fall into myself.

I suppose it doesn’t matter because I follow both. I’m not terribly drawn to dressup challenges and lookbooks.

What year did you join Tumblr/Simblr?

I have absolutely no friggin idea. I tried to look back in my email archive to track notifications, and that failed. I came back after three years, so it has to be at least for years before I returned....?

#echoweaver #memes #sims #get to know you

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hawkland · 3 years

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Destiel fic recs #3 - the (mostly) longfic edition!

It’s been a while since my last rec post - mostly because I’ve been wallowing in a number of longer fics (50-350k!) so it’s taken me a while to have enough to talk about in one post (and boy do I talk a lot, here!)

With these longer fics, I do sometimes have some caveats with my recs - or at least reasons why they might not appeal to every Dean/Cas reader. But note that if I didn’t overall strongly recommend reading the fic I wouldn’t include it in my recs here at all, so any quibbles I bring up are minor compared to my overall enjoyment of the stories. Just, I don’t want someone to commit to a long read without knowing what they’re getting into and why it might not be their thing.

I’m still not into reading complete setting AUs at this time, but a lot/most of these are canon-divergence AUs, often written/set at the end of a season and giving an alternative take on what happened next. I love those kind of stories, as it’s often so interesting to see how fans thought of what might happen in the next season (especially when it’s better than what we actually got.)

Onto the recs & discussion behind the cut!

The Sinking Ship by UnfortunatelyObsessed (114k). This is a story that ripped my heart to pieces (in a good way!). I stayed up all night to finish reading because I simply couldn’t stop once I started on it and it gave me a massive fic hanger from all my emotions. Season 14 divergence, imagine if Dean did go into the Ma’lak box to trap Michael under the ocean with him forever...and once there, he discovers that Cas has stowed away with him. Because of course Cas would never leave Dean to such a fate on his own.

I loved literally. Every. Damn. Thing. About this fic. Cas telling Dean stories to pass the (endless) time. Their small intimate moments while realizing they can never consummate physically while trapped in the box but finding every other way to express their love. The absolute heartbreak that had me SOBBING when Michael fights for control of Dean and destroys everything they’ve built together and Cas thinks he’s lost Dean forever. Sam & Gabriel & Rowena & Claire & Jack doing everything they can to devise a plan back home to try to save them both while keeping Michael trapped. Also even just the wonderfully sensitive portrayal of aroace Jack still closely bonded with Claire and Maggie and just. And just. This is a story I’ve already re-read just to savor how much I loved it and its portrayal of everyone in TFW 2.0 and their extended family, it just hit my id in all the most incredible ways and I have nothing but absolute love for this one.

Beautiful Chaos by anyrei, mugglerock (141k). Season 9 canon-divergence, in which Dean doesn’t simply abandon Cas to fend for himself post 09x03. Instead he sets Cas up in a kind of squatter’s nest in an abandoned building near the bunker so he can keep tabs on him and help him out.

This fic definitely gets the award for FILTHIEST, HOTTEST, SMUTTIEST Dean/Cas (and Cas/other) I’ve read in, like, ever, for human!Cas turns out to be a rather insatiable sex fiend/cock slut and Dean is too up his own repressed ass to easily give Cas what he wants/needs. It is dark at times, Cas ends up in some very unsavory/non-con situations, and the authors do mention that they tried to hone in on endverse!Cas’s characterization more than what we saw in Season 9...so you might roll with it, you might not. I adored their original character Jerry the tattoo artist in this, and like I said it was seriously hot (if you are good with total bottom!Cas and Cas with others, I know those are not everyone’s cuppa). I did have a few minor issues. For one, the last chapter felt a bit rushed and hand-wavey, but clearly the authors weren’t fond of the canon conflicts of season 9 & 10 (Abbadon, Mark of Cain) and just wanted to be done with them. Can’t say I really blame them. And I did have to laugh a bit at Lebanon, Kansas apparently having such a bustling gay bar/tattoo artist/etc scene being someone from a butt-fuck nowhere American small town myself. But, SPN was never all that realistic in how Lebanon was shown (and yes I’ve spent too much time roaming around it on Google maps), so if you can suspend some disbelief this is an awesome hot/angsty/occasionally heartbreaking read.

These Forsaken Lands by destielpasta (53k). I came upon this story when looking for fics that dealt in some way with the aftermath of Godstiel. This is a wonderfully atmospheric late Season 9 “fill-in” case fic (post Meta-fiction) where Cas ends up in a small town that had been visited by Godstiel...and while initially residents have reaped much good fortune, there has suddenly been a wave of deaths/bad events and he is determined to find out what happened and set things right. He calls upon Dean for help, but Dean is fighting the Mark of Cain and it’s going to take a lot to get past its control and find a way out for both of them. Together they work on repairing an old church while trying to repair each other and their damaged relationship.

I loved this story for how well written it was, really invoking a gothic small-town/Americana atmosphere. The original characters blend in very well with the case-fic at the center of it, and the author deals really well with Cas at a very fragile point when he’s running on borrowed grace and trying to navigate Dean’s MoC-enhanced anger. It’s Dean/Cas but actually much more of a Cas character study, so I highly recommend it to my fellow/compatriot Cas-girls who love a good wallow in his head.

Mixed Emotions by Tierra469 (50k). Canon 12 “parallel” fic that then goes canon-divergent with the season finale. I actually stumbled on this while in the mood to read some Cas/ or & Mary fic after enjoying their interactions in Season 12 (don’t hate me). This is sort of two fics in one. The first half focuses mostly on filling in the gaps with some critical S12 Cas episodes, especially Cas & Mary’s developing friendship (and one night of something more). But of course Cas’s feelings for Dean (and vice-versa) are always there, and when Cas figures out a way to get his powers fully back, the question is if Dean can open himself up to be vulnerable - and express love - the way Cas needs for this to work.

This was an interesting fic in a lot of ways. I loved the author’s take on angels’ connections to their vessels and grace, it was very consistent in a way the show sometimes/often wasn’t. Cas is very Cas in not understanding privacy and personal boundaries (so he does some questionable things, admittedly, which might squick some readers). The smut is fucking HOT - though I will caution at one point it involves Cas temporarily in a younger (NOT underage) female vessel (and the story does point out Dean’s discomfort with this and some of the consent issues involved, I don’t want to spoil too much). I wanted the Mary plot resolved more than it was, but I still recommend this story strongly for the quality of the writing and unique/well-developed take on angel lore and mechanics that was quite different from what I’m used to reading.

We Are Either Here Or Not Here by petramacneary (54k) A post-season 12 fic that goes on a different tangent to how Cas returns, and what happens in the meantime. Particularly, it offers a different take on what apocalypseverse!Cas would be like—as Mary makes her own way back from that world with AU!Cas as her prisoner.

What I loved about this story: first off, BAMF!Mary is awesome here. Dean is so heartbreaking, not quite knowing what the fuck to do with this different Cas who at times is just a painful reminder of who/what Dean’s lost...but then becomes a chance for Dean to say and express some of the things he always was afraid to in the past. And when (real/our) Cas finally returns, there’s some very interesting stuff that happens with both Cas & AU!Cas and Cas & Dean that I don’t want to spoil. (And let’s also just say that when real!Cas and Dean finally get together it’s AMAZINGLY awesome. Like, hot Impala!sex. So is the artwork that goes with this story.)

You Can Keep Holding On by NorthernSparrow (353k) The longest fic I read this time around and probably the one I have the most mixed feelings about, but a while on I do keep thinking about parts of it so I do rec it with some caveats. This is a canon-divergence after the end of Season 11. Dean & Sam find Cas after he’s been blasted out of the bunker...to the bottom of the Grand Canyon. Mary isn’t in this one except for a brief appearance/visit, which Dean thinks is Amara’s gift to him. Life seems good for a while, they’re enjoying dealing with mundane problems for a change, but then Cas seems to be pulling away from the brothers, spending less and less time with them at the bunker, taking a mundane job at another Gas ‘n Sip, and clearly preoccupied by something else. Or is it someone else? Dean is worried yet finally ready to accept that Cas maybe has a girlfriend, or a boyfried, but then it turns out that is not at all what Cas has going on. It’s something far more serious than that.

Honestly I almost stopped reading when the reveal happened - it’s a subject that’s very sensitive to me from personal/family experience and not something I usually like reading in fic (especially if there is a sad ending.) So I admit I jumped ahead to read how it would end first before committing to finishing it. And I am glad I did, because the author handles the subject matter with a realism and obvious knowledge of experience as well, not how I often see it in fanfic. There are a lot of emotional ups and downs but it’s nice seeing Dean in his momma-hen/mode, and Sam is so so good in this one! I think I enjoyed Sam’s characterization here most of all! And the author has a really cool/well developed angel/wing lore that hit my wing-kink pretty hard. I do think it could have all been edited down a bit - I found myself skimming parts, especially in the last third, just to get on with things. But it’s definitely a story you can disappear into for a good long time and I’ve bookmarked the author’s other works to read later, so again, I do rec it even with a few caveats.

A few shorter fics, too, just because I don’t want to forget about them...

Eleven Erogenous Zones of a Fallen Angel by almaasi (15k) Pure gratuitous wing!kink for me :) Cas uses the last of his grace to manifest his wings...but then is stuck with them in his human form and not even able to use them to fly as he used to. This presents a lot of awkward problems to deal with but also the excuse for Dean to help him keep them clean :) I did say wing kink, right? :D :D I loved how Cas seemed confused about the pleasure signals he got from bathing vs. sex vs. grooming and all of that. It’s sweet and hot and has my favorite kind of caretaking Dean in it.

Fossil Tracks by SegaBarrett (3k). Dean & Sam & Cas and dinosaurs. How can you go wrong with that? One of the SPN stories from the Id Pro Quo collection I really enjoyed reading (and didn’t write myself, lol).

#destiel recs #my fic recs #deancas recs #fandom that ate my life hello #destiel fic recs #my destiel recs

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im-like-if-a-girl · 3 years

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*THE* mean-girl-dean-girl's Supernatural reboot MEGAPOST!

I'm gonna stick a little "keeping reading" here because hoooooo boy, this is a very long post.

Let's start with

Plot

Season 1

Dean kills John while they are out on a hunt in a crime of passion, but Dean doesn't remember because he blacked out. Cue Dean going to Stanford to get Sam and tell him "Dad's on a hunting trip... and he hasn't been home in a couple days."

The audience doesn't know what happened to John, but slowly figures it out with Dean and Sam as Dean slowly remembers what happened that night.

The entire first season, the boys are following the trail John left and fighting monsters as well. They find out Dean was with John, Sam realizes Dean has an unreliable memory, they have heart to hearts about their childhood and the fire, they find John's body, "how could you kill Dad?" but maybe Dean didn't kill dad, whooaaaaaa, misdirection.

It was actually good ole yeller eyes (Azazel) and he made it look like Dean killed John.

Okay, now let's move on to the first episode

Not sure how the opening would work, I would like the story of the fire to be revealed over the course of the first season, but maybe the opening scene could be a little bit of an establishing character relationships and backstory, idk, I haven't thought that far yet.

I'm thinking maybe it's like, Dean gets back to a motel room covered in blood and he listens to a voicemail on his phone from John saying he was on a hunt or something, I don't really know lol.

HOWEVER

I do know that after the intro rolls, we get a scene of Sam waking up to his alarm and "Nine to Five" by Dolly Parton starts playing.

Y'all know where this is going.

Cue a montage of Sam's normal Stanford college life (him sitting through lectures, walking through the campus with friends) spliced with scenes of Dean absolutely slaughtering a nest of vampires (or some other monsters, whatever works best.)

But

Now onto

Characters!!! (And descriptions)

Dean Winchester

Some lovely person on this site made edits of Dean with platinum blond hair and it made me feel some kind of way so we're doing that, homie's gonna have platinum blond hair

Side note about the hair, later when the brothers are running from the FBI he dyes it a dirty blond/light brown (insert jackles hair color controversy here) as a disguise.

He also gets tattoos because we were robbed.

Speaking of tattoos, concept: when Dean comes back from Hell, all of his tattoos are gone. His body is a clean slate, devoid of tattoos, scars, etc. So he gets his tattoos done all over again, which he doesn't mind because he made some bad, drunk tattoo decisions in his youth.

(And before you ask, yes, he does get one for Cas, either a bee or Cas's name in enochian, something cute.)

Dean goes to therapy after Sam gets sent to the Cage.

It's actually court mandated because he got in trouble, lol, he would never go to therapy on his own.

Along with the hair, Dean gets to be the grade A twunk we all know he is.

Sam Winchester

His hair gets longer in every scene he's in

No jk, but imagine

King of Microaggressions

Sam starts off like the sweetheart he is in season 1 but in later seasons he starts enjoying killing a little too much...

It's that demon blood, ba-by!!!

He brings up issues of morality to Dean, i.e. killing monsters who aren't hurting anyone. (Yes I know this is contradictory to my previous statement, but these two facets of Sam can and will coexist.)

Sam and Jess's relationship is explored further, meaning we'll need to start with a different inciting incident, but that's fine, I think everyone can agree fridgings are *(thumbs down)*

Sam doesn't truly know what happened the night of the fire until later, and then he understands why Dean is so protective of him.

Jess

She gets to live beyond the first episode

She is also trans

No, I don't feel like I have to explain myself and I won't 💜

She urges Sam to join Dean in a search for their brother, kind of gets pulled into the hunter lifestyle by association lol.

She dies on a rusty nail after fighting vampires on a routine hunt with Sam

No jk!!!

But imagine....

She's amazing and I love her and Lucifer also uses her as leverage against Sam and possesses her because I think that'd be cool.

She supports Sam 100% and also she and Dean are buddies, pals if you will.

She meets Cas Thee El and immediately she Knows, that is a homosexual.

She dies still so that we can have a Saileen Endgame but she's not dying the first episode or in a fridging. Not on my watch.

Castiel

He gets to keep his raw, light-fixture-exploding power.

I want more of that "I pulled you out of hell, I can throw you back in" energy except over dumb shit like Dean not cleaning up after himself.

He looks like a Dilf in every scene he's in, yeah, that's right, dilf with a capital D for *(GUNSHOTS)* *(gets sent to horny jail)*

Claire

She gets pink hair

And more time with Cas

And maybe a nose piercing

Feel like she should be able to kill a couple angels onscreen, punch a couple homophobes

She gets to meet Jack and teaches him swears and fun slang words.

She deserves it.

Jack

I says "that's my baby and I'm proud."

Jack starts off as a baby, but like Amara he grows up super quickly.

Like, baby to 11 year old in a couple days or less.

This is because Jack's emotional age on the show is on par with that of a 5th grader.

It's at this point when he's a young kid that he runs away from the Bunker and shenanigans ensue.

It's also at this point that Dean threatens to k*ll him.

(Still not sure if I want that in my Supernatural (threatened infanticide? In my Supernatural? It's more likely than you think) but we'll see. We'll see.)

Throughout a majority of season 13, Jack is like an 11 y.o. kid

Season 14 he's like a 16 y.o. teenager

Season 15 he's 21, you get the picture.

Listen, I love Alex Calvert a lot. He's great.

But Jack is a child and should be a child.

Kelly Kline

Kelly, baby, stay right where you are, you're perfect.

Eileen

SHE DOESN'T DIE

SHE GETS TO BE IN THE FINALE BECAUSE SHE'S AMAZING AND I LOVE HER.

BLURRY WIFE WHO? I ONLY KNOW SAILEEN ENDGAME!

She teaches Claire and Jack swears in sign-language. Castiel is not impressed.

John

J*hn W*nchester stans, DNI.

He's dead.

We only see him in flashbacks and only sometimes hear his voice in voice overs.

He's not "down the road" from Dean in Heaven, in fact he instead gets to wander around in some Purgatory like Hell for the rest of his time :)

People who get to say "fuck" on the show:

Cas (but only Once)

Jody

Bobby

Now onto other things

I want more of

Ghostfacers

(they need more screentime because I love them)

Dean/Benny

We know they had a thing.

They definitely had a thing.

Demon Dean

Again, I feel like more should've been done with this. All that build up for what, 2 episodes? was not utilized well at all.

Dean's Bisexuality

Straight Dean truthers DNI, my Supernatural is a show about love and being true to yourself

You think Supernatural is a show about 2 straight brothers fighting monsters?

Naw bitch, this is a show about the Gay Experience

He will get to have relations with men on this show.

Of course, only after John dies does he, y'know, display it. Maybe he kisses Cas on his dad's grave just to fuck John over, make him roll in grave.

We all agree John would be/is a homophobe piece of shit, right?

Okay, glad we're on the same page.

Dads

3 men and a baby with Jack is what I'm saying.

I love it when the Trio are father-figures to younger troubled characters they see themselves in, even better if it's like reluctant-but-loving father figure, oh, that trope gets me every time :'^)

Dadstiel and DadDean are my favorites, but I like it when Sam plays "Uncle Sam" to kids too lol.

"Fellas, is it gay to want a tight knit family with your husband, his son, his vessel's daughter, your brother, his wife, your cop mother figure and her wife and their adopted daughters? Asking for a friend."

Garth

Biggest flaw of Supernatural was underutilizing Garth.

I will never not be bitter that Garth was only in like, 7 episodes out of the whole 15 season series.

Every episode with Garth gets immediately 5 times better.

I love Garth.

Follow ups on characters who had entire episodes featured around them and then just... vanished???

This is mostly about Jesse, the magic kid whose imagination ruled an entire town like, his daddy was a demon and nothing came of that kid??? Only one episode about him?? No follow up???

KID CAN MANIPULATE REALITY AND WE'RE NOT GONNA GET A FOLLOW UP ON THAT?????

Uh, there was that one episode with Ennis the guy whose girlfriend was killed by a monster? I think?? Who we never see again, that was weird.

Tamara from season 3, episode 1.

And of course-

Cassie

She was so cool, and then we never saw her again :////

She gets to be a badass.

Religious imagery

As a former Catholic school student who has become for the most part, disillusioned with religion, religious imagery in TV shows like Supernatural make my brain go "brrrrrr."

Fun episodes!!!

Like, after season 6 or so, there's a drop in funny episodes

I'm talking Changing Channels, The French Mistake type stuff. (Scoobynatural is an outlier and should not be counted.)

So anyway

In my version we would have more fun episodes

I'm thinking

GENDER-SWAP EPISODE, BABY!!

(why they didn't do that in the original, we'll never know.)

An episode where Dean gets to wear eyeliner

That's it, end of post.

I want less

Racism

Yeah I feel like this is self explanatory, nearly every reoccurring character in SPN is white, and black side characters normally die in the episode they first appear in, or they'll be featured as a villain (Uriel, Raphael, Billie, etc)

Also there's a lot of... uh... asian fetishism featured in the show (what with "Busty Asian Beauties) that's really gross, also Kevin was a bit of a stereotype...

Also also it's super yucky how they kill the gods from other religions like???? Uh??? That's super disrespectful, let's not do that????

I know Supernatural is like, inherently racist because monsters are a separate race that are seen as some dangerous "other" that must be eradicated by hunters in a form of genocide-

Okay we won't get into that but

Still

Stop killing all your POC

Fridgings/Unecessary murders of female characters

I know Supernatural starts with a fridging, so this will be a hard thing to remedy, but

One death that really pissed me off was the death of Charlie

Yeah, that was pointless and we're not doing that. Charlie gets to live and be an awesome aunt to Jack.

And also Claire

Charlie Bradbury Superiority

Charlie and Garth get to meet because they're nerd/geek solidarity.

British Men of Letters

I fucking hate these guys

They're "litcherally" the worst.

The worst part is that the actors they have playing the British AREN'T. EVEN. BRITISH.

And you can tell

Uh, and that's all for now, I'll add more later.

tag list for people who liked my "if this post gets one like I'll post my SPN reboot masterpost" post.

@darianyunidi @sarasidlesaid @crazybananaalpaca @playfulpanthress @ultfreakme @fififeelsmellow @heller-char @luna8eaton @princessmeganfire @insanebot109 @queenofnightsnow @mongoose-underthehouse

Thank you for the support, hope the wait was worth it.

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demenior · 3 years

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Dem’s Big Post About The Spn Fics Part 1/2

aka The Wrap Up to celebrate To Exist Again and To Become a Man now being finished!

(This will be a long post. This is your only warning.)

Admittedly this is a bit of a weird thing to be doing, but I wanted to try it out for 3 reasons:

I love talking about my own work and

It functions really well as a self-reflective tool for me to improve on, and

I can answer some big questions people might have because there was a LOT of worldbuilding in these stories.

We’ll start off with reflective stuff, and move into the juicier world-building focused stuff later into the post. There will be major spoilers for both fics to come!

To begin with a funny anecdote, Why Did I Write These Stories?

I was beginning to write and work out the story that I wanted to write for Spn (what will now be To Destroy a Man. As I was writing the scene, I realized I had a LOT of ideas and while I was trying to avoid as much exposition as I could, it became quickly apparent that I was needing to create my own au (this scene eventually became chapter 34 of To Become a Man). A short prequel seemed like a good idea, to quickly hash out the ‘prior’ events that I needed to go through so all the readers could be on the same page. While plotting out prequel points, I realized Sam and Dean were going to have drastically different experiences during the same time period, and I was trying to figure out who’s pov would be better for which scenes, and how to keep momentum when they’re going through such radically different types of changes. Ultimately I decided to split their povs, which I also thought would be a fun project! And I naively assumed each pov would take about 2 chapters each, rounding out to maybe 15k total.

I had my ending points: Dean n Cas soul-merged and (basically) married, Cas on the lam from heaven and a complete anomaly, and Sam juiced up full of powers and a weird mix of archangel and antichrist but still 100% human and ready to fight God.

Now I needed to add weight to these changes, so I wrote 200k of build-up.

Am I proud of these fics?

OF COURSE I AM!!! These are the longest fics I’ve ever written AND finished AND in the fastest freakin turnaround ever (both were finished writing, barring edits, in like 6 months holy shit)

I didn’t write a single scene that I “didn’t” want to write. If I had trouble writing it, as in it was fighting me, I scrapped it. Most obviously was the scene in Dean’s pov where he and Sam were intended to meet some other hunters and Dean declines working with them because he’s nervous about being outed as queer. It was meant to be a good scene! I wanted to introduce some new characters! But it just wasn’t working so I said ‘thank you, next!’.

But it means this story was an absolute joy to write. Because for a while all I was doing was ‘if I wanted to write one scene into supernatural, what would I write?’ and then just DID that!! It’s why there’s a lot of ‘Salmondean do dumb shit or have really dumb heartfelt conversations’ scenes.

Would I change anything?

If I’d been less eager to start sharing, I might have planned out the story beats a little tighter so there were less ‘soft’ chapters and a draw/pull for people to come back and keep reading. I felt Dean’s story specifically lagged at points and could have used some tighter editing (there was a noticeable lull in directed movement between Dean n Cas getting together, until Sam corrupts Amy).

I also probably would have held Sam’s story until I’d finished Dean’s so I could make the two line up better! Probably could have inserted more scenes into Sam’s fic that way, and made sure things were a little more consistent. In an ideal world one concept I had was to release 1 chapter from each pov every week that would correspond to the same time frame so we’d be getting real-time SalmonDean pov narrative. Unfortunately that didn’t work!

The biggest takeaway overall is for me to focus more on what moves the plot, and to make my scenes do more than 1 thing so I can cut down on wordcount and increase my efficiency.

Of course every writer will find things they want to fix in anything they’ve ever written, so these are minor “mistakes” at best. I’m so dang proud of these fics.

Onto more interesting things!

How Did I Put These Fics Together (because it’s different than anything I’ve ever done before)

Normally when I write a story, I plan out the beats I need to hit, see where I need to insert any kind of foreshadowing/buildup, and then write from A to B to C and so on and so forth. Hence, this is why I can normally post things as I complete chapters, because it’s all a linear progression.

For these two stories, rather than linear plot/a normal story structure, I just sat and free-wrote any and every scene that came to mind and then pieced them into a kinda-linear form like putting a quilt together. You’ll note that this is why there’s not a lot of internal callback or a feeling of sense of time flowing within the fic (save for points where I went back and specifically edited it in). How long does the story take place over? Hard to say! Your author has the barest grasp on linear time even on a good day (how many times did I say ‘see you on [wrong day]’ at the end of chapters lmaaoooo)

This also meant EXTENSIVE editing on the back end once I decided in what order I wanted my ‘quilt pieces’ to be. Hard to say if this is a bonus or a negative!

But I did want to try and capture the vibe of the lives they lead, as a bit of a ‘slice of life’-style story, when the slice of life is the profound weirdness of the Winchester roaming life, and how things are status quo- until everyone almost dies oh shit!! And then they have to keep living because no therapy we die/undie like Winchesters. Do I think I captured this effectively? Hmm. Good question.

Dem where the FUCK did the inspiration for a lot of the magic and creature weirdness even come from?

Honestly? Music, primarily. And completely mishearing lyrics!

Nightwish ‘Ever Dream’: the line is ‘my song can but borrow you grace’ and because my brain is scrambled eggs on a good day, I heard ‘grace’ ‘song’ and ‘borrow’ in that order and have had, for YEARS, the mental image of Cas borrowing Dean’s soul to power himself up for battle.

From there I’ve always been enamored with the ‘wavelength of celestial intent’ descriptor that Cas drops in s6 for “what he is”.

I also really like ocean metaphors mostly because I’ve been obsessed with the ocean and things in it since I was like… 5??? So really this was me just rolling with what I know lmao. I love using (somewhat) accurate scientific metaphors for very intangible things!

I was also finishing my degree in biology/ecology while writing these fics and I think it shows

Stars ‘The Night Starts Here’ gives us the series title and the fic titles. Except for ‘To Exist Again’. TEA was almost titled ‘The Upwards Fall’ because I wanted all 3 of the Main Stories to have titles from this song, but I couldn’t make anything else work in tandem with the series name ‘The Love It Takes’ while also working for Sam’s personal story. So Sam, as always, is the rebel <3

Stars ‘Up In Our Bedroom, After The War’ is basically the vibes of the whole story. TFW has been, literally, to hell and back!!! There’s a bit of melancholy and sadness, a lingering dark, but the chance of a bright new tomorrow and a soft start.

Let’s Talk About Themes in The Story! What were you looking to accomplish?

My earliest notes for TFW are, as follows:

Dean’s journey of self-discovery (who am I when I’m not trying to be Dad?)

Dean wants to settle down! He wants a big family! He wants to be domestic!

Basically: Dean doesn’t want to have a short life of hunting. He wants to live!

Dean’s journey of realizing he’s bi, and him accepting that

Dean’s relationship to Sam is both older brother/parent

And continuing Dean balancing these roles while also letting Sam be an adult

Dean’s Big Issues/Fears about never being good enough for people to want to stay with him (these are effectively highlighted in that Cas thinks he’s not useful enough to be wanted)

Sub Plot:

Castiel’s autonomy

Cas’ fall from grace, to trying to restore Heaven, to wrecking it further

He’s majorly depressed by the end of s7 (before purgatory)

Wants to stay in Purgatory but doesn’t tell Dean

Remains depressed after leaving, but resolved to keep living on because he’s clearly meant for something

After the seraphim reveal: does he have free will?! How does he grapple with this? How does he live in a way he can be proud of?

And lastly

Sam gets his powers back CAUSE THATS HOT

where tf did they go????

he got them from Lucifer?????

sleeper agent??????

Sam is The Chosen One

Accepts that he is More Than Human and to celebrate all parts of him

Lucifer and Sam friends?? Work together????

Sam needs autonomy in his choices/his life

If you compare these to the overall arc of TFW within the two stories, I think I got a lot of them! But you’ll also note a lot of these things aren’t concrete goals that are easily measurable (ex: Dean wants to learn to bake pie. In chapter 1 he starts a fire in the kitchen. By the end of the story he finally makes A Good Pie.) part of the lack of concrete milestones was why I felt it was important to tell Dean (and Cas’) story by going back to the point they meet, in s4! Dean’s gradual change towards his feelings for Cas, his relationship to Sam (heavily influenced by the s7 events of this fic) and then his own relationship with himself were such slow burns that I felt it would be a disservice to try and cram a change like that into a timeline like “1 year”.

I felt like these subtle changes and adjustments actually felt a lot truer to life-- people often change in very small, gradual ways over time, even without realizing it and often times not consistently! If only we could all gain skills like the sims, where we can easily level up and remain at that high level of performance!

So the Guy Who Ate Satan, A Celestial Nuke that Developed Sentience, and Dean walk into a bar…

Sam’s story in Spn The Show has always been a ‘chosen one’ kind of narrative. Sam is living with one foot in the realm of the monsters, and I wanted to bring that back full force! It really makes sense for him that he should only continue to grow in power, might, and magic!! As the story progresses.

Cas also got a power up! I do desperately love in the show that he was kind of a grunt/nothing angel, and so even when he defected to TFW he was a huge help for them, but in the scale of things he was an annoying fly to most other angels. It really worked for the underdog story of s4/5. In this I wanted to give him a power up, and originally it was actually going to be close contact with Sam that eventually changed Cas into something unknown (you can still see traces of this in ch34 of TBAM, where Death remarks ‘Castiel could be [Sam’s] first creation’. But for a combo of reasons: how Sam’s magic needed to have intent, the entire concept of free will and consent, and how much I wanted Dean and Cas to have their effect on each other, I decided to go with the route that Cas has actually always been something angel-adjacent rather than becoming something new. TFW/Supernatural has always been about free will and making your own story, so I amplified that with Cas.

Dean has always been A Normal Guy, which is part of the appeal of him and Sam (2 normal dudes!) taking on the Very Not Normal. As explained above, Sam’s story is ‘normal guy finds out he’s the chosen one’ and so, in a story about very large concepts and huge monsters and acts of magic, I felt it was very important to keep Dean as normal as possible. To the point it became a running gag to me, personally, in that ‘no matter what cool shit happens around him, Dean has to stay as Just A Guy’. And it’s a very humanizing role that allows the story to have the scale it does!

What were the most important themes in your story?

Sam’s Autonomy

I wasn’t even going to include the plot about Lucifer’s death in this story— that was going to come up in a later story, actually! And rather than Sam having ate Lucifer, the original idea was that they’d become a SamandLucifer entity (this harkens back to a concept I wanted to write when Swan Song first aired).

That storyline would have involved a lot of mental ‘Sam and Lucifer discuss what it means to live, which one of them is more worthy of life and if they do deserve to destroy the world for the pain they’ve been forced to go through, just to create the dichotomy of good and evil for everyone else’ discussions. There would be a lot of talk about how Sam hates and fears Lucifer for the pain Lucifer put on Sam, how Lucifer hates Sam because he and Sam are the same but Sam’s brother loves him anyways, etc.

Ultimately that was scrapped because Sam’s entire story in the show is always about how the world and everyone around him manipulates him and that he never actually gets to make choices about his own life or body that aren’t influenced or part of someone elses’ design. And that always bothered me that Sam was never allowed to be himself without having to be ashamed of it, and I wanted to make sure that Sam’s triumph of being proud of himself/proudly choosing to exist (again) was evident in his story

In the end I needed Sam to have this visceral win over his tormentor. As the story shows, in this case Lucifer was abused and put into a position where he was incapable of empathy and could only express himself in violence. Sam even understands this! But it doesn’t change the fact that Lucifer tortured Sam in unimaginable ways for thousands of years.

With that in mind I didn’t like the idea of Lucifer and Sam having “co-ownership” of their new identity, so I made the choice that Sam had to be the survivor. This tied in well with Sam’s new crusade to restore free will to the universe, because he’s breaking the narrative of his own story!

While Castiel wasn’t a pov character, his own autonomy and free will was equally as important. You’ll note that many, many paragraphs and conversations revolved around that theme and that in the end Cas followed himself (and love!) which ensured his freedom of self <3

The Brothers are WEIRD PEOPLE!!!! And Codependent to a Worrying Degree, but It’s Also How They Survive

It’s very hard to show “unusual” relationships when you’re writing from the pov of the two people who don’t think there’s anything weird about their relationship. Sure, they say ‘yeah it’s probably weird that we still share a bed’ but that’s kinda more in line with ‘I had a nightmare and I want to be close to the person who makes me feel safe’. Hashtag normalize co-sleeping when you need it!!!

From there I did try to point out how the boys have a weird perception of lifestyle in the little things they did.

From thrifting everything from clothes to appliances to books (thrifting is a valid lifestyle! It’s incredibly handy when you’re on a budget.)

To never actually having condiments or knowing how to use a dishwasher cause they’ve lived in a car, a motel room, or squatted in old houses their whole life.

I tried to have them wear each others’ clothes or casually swap things as much as possible. They live out of each others’ pockets!

Also the brothers are just weird people!! It’s hard to show from their pov, cause they don’t know how far off from normal they are, but like…

Everything about Sam and Amelia was NOT right like holy shit those two were wilding in their grief. They are very lucky things worked out for them and that they got to be hashtag Weird Girls together

Dean explicitly, in the story, gets horny after killing stuff!! Violence has done a number on his psyche and he’s gotten some wires crossed that maybe shouldn’t have been, or maybe could be worked out in a safe space but… uh… how likely do we think Dean is gonna go find a safe space to deal with any of his shit???

LOVE!!! Love is truly what this whole story is all about

If you’ve read the stories, you know how much emphasis I put on love. Love is the strongest force in the Spn Universe! It’s what averted the apocalypse and saved the world (Swan Song), it’s what created free will (Cas’ entire arc!) I love love!!!!

I went out of my way to not put any definitions on platonic love vs romantic love because I think love is love is love and how you express that is the difference. Neither is more powerful than the other because LOVE is powerful!! Sam and Cas are the most important people in Dean’s life and he loves them equally! He shows this by giving Cas kisses and stealing Sam’s socks.

It’s a personal pet peeve of mine when I have to hear explanations like ‘I love you, like a brother’ or ‘I love you, but like, as a friend because I’m a lesbian and you’re a man’ etc etc in media. If you have to continuously define how your characters love each other, then I don’t think you’re doing a good job of portraying their relationship. So you’ll see that I never put those parameters in any conversation. Dean DOES muse that he loves Cas differently than he loves Sam or Bobby, specifically because there is a romantic and sexual tone that his feelings for Cas takes, but not because he loves Cas more or less than he loves Sam or Bobby.

Which means, if you haven’t realized it yet, the Series + Fic Titles are meant to be a complete sentence because the power of love IS the thesis of this series:

The Love It Takes To Exist Again (Sam’s journey!)

The Love It Takes To Become a Man (Dean’s journey!)

The Love It Takes To Destroy a Man (TBA)

And now for fun stuff. Behind the scenes!!

What’s Something People Probably Don’t Know?

The demonic fungal/hydrothermal vent growth on Sam’s arm was thrown in literally as I was posting the chapter because I had just finished a 48 hour cram session of writing a report on tube worms for an ecology class (I was chanting my tube worm song as I wrote it) and it ended up being a HUGE hit with both readers and myself. But it was so last minute I had trouble fitting it in more throughout the rest of Sam’s story!

Cas’ orders? That may or may not have bound him to Dean and removed his free will? Were written into Sam’s story and I went ‘oh SHIT that’s compelling’ and then left them there as a ‘guess I’ll figure that out when I get to Dean’s story lol’

Originally Dean and Cas were supposed to get together after having their souls bonded, and have been in a UST limbo the entire time before that. Mostly because I think the entire concept of ‘we just got married of the soul I guess we should try dating?’ is very funny. CLEARLY the two of them were way more eager to fall in love than I anticipated (thank you Cas for your honesty) but you can still see shades of this original idea here and there (especially in ch35 of TBAM)

I never intended Dean and Benny to connect so well!! Benny was going to reunite with Andrea, she was going to live, and they were going to go off into the world and leave the story. And, uh, here we are. I’m still debating if I need to adjust the relationship tag or not haha. Polyamory is fun, especially when I was planning for Sam to be the polyamorous brother...

Speaking of, I can’t believe I forgot about Sam and his sexuality! If I rewrote TEA I would have had Sam contemplate more on his lack of sexual appetite due to trauma, up until he meets Benny and he gets to rediscover how he wants to be a sexual person

Many of Sam and Dean’s absolutely stupid sibling conversations were lifted near-verbatim from conversations I’ve had with my siblings

And lastly...

Dem where’s Kevin????????????? Where is our sweet baby boy????????

He’s SAFE!! He’s in the Hunter pipeline somewhere cause Sam handed him off to Bobby’s people. He and his mom are safe and at some point they probably got rib sigils like SalmonDean did against angels, but for demons. I didn’t have room in this story for him!!! But my baby boy is SAFE and I want to get him back to university because it’s WHAT HE DESERVES!!!!

To that point: god there were/are SO many characters that I just didn’t include in the story so far because I didn’t feel comfortable including them without stalling the story for them. To that point: pretty much everyone who is alive/dead in s8 is that way in this story, except Bobby who gets to live.

[Check Out Part 2 for reader questions!]

#the love it takes series #to exist again fic #to become a man fic #dem speaks

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randomingoftherandomness · 4 years

Text

Secrets I Have Held In My Heart

A/N: Modern!AU, Soulmate!AU, Soul Mark!AU, Angst, OT3.

This is quite honestly one of the longest things I’ve ever done in one sitting. I am exhausted. My prose and tenses are probably everywhere and I am so sorry for it. Enjoy x

(Edit 20/1/2021) It has recently come to my attention that lies and slander have been spread about my character amongst persons in this OT3 community. They are malicious lies made with the intent to cast a shadow over my credibility and my good standing in this community. I only ask that you come talk to me first before you believe the horrible things that have been levelled about me.

Please take care of yourselves x

Booker smiles placidly when he catches Joe's eye from across the room and let's the pretenses drop the moment he ducks out into hallway, finding a spot of quiet from all the music and chatter of celebration in the living room. He really should be happy but as it is with heartbreaks, happiness is something you can only fake until it feels real.

He opens the door when the doorbell rings and kisses the cheeks of the latecomers in greeting. They awkwardly avoid his eye with shifty smiles as they shuffle past him. Booker doesn't blame them. It's an awkward fucking situation all around.

Joe's warm and happy laughter carries through the air, and Booker just feels his heart twist in his chest. The sight of his head of curls bobbing along in the joy of whatever joke one of their friends was making while his arm was slung intimately low around Nicky's waist was unbearable. Booker has enough self-respect in him to recognise it as jealousy.

He has been in love with his best friend for almost as long as he has known him. It had been ridiculously easy for them; Joe had no soul marks and neither had Booker, so it was the most natural thing to move in together after they'd both hit 33 and when Booker decided to offer his fine art restorer skills up to go freelance, they make plans to spend the rest of their lives together. It made sense and they were happy. Booker had had no intentions of ever letting Joe know how he had truly felt and that was the mistake.

It isn't that he dislikes Nicky.

The man was beyond perfect and Booker could have never hoped to compare. From the briefest of familiarities, he knows that Nicky was a former theology student who left the seminary and is now deep in his work with a local NGO, well on his way to maybe working for the UN some day. He volunteers at a local shelter, helps at his church's soup kitchen, is handsome and funny, is a fucking Saint personified and looks great next to Joe when Booker looks like a twice drowned rat on his best day. It isn't that he hates the man. It's just that, well, Nicky isn't him.

Booker knew something had changed then. Joe had never looked at him the way he had when his and Nicky's eyes first met. And he knows Joe like he knows his own mind and there won't be any one as trusting or as kind. If he tells him he loves him, Joe would stay and he'd be Booker's, but that's not how love works and so he waits until the day they're both on the sofa watching a game and Joe turns to him to say, "Nicky's my soulmate."

Just like that. And because he could never hurt Joe, he smiles, nodding. "I figured he was. Congratulations man. That's amazing!"

There had been an indescribable look that crossed Joe's face when he said that but he hadn't lingered on it for too long. Joe's soul mark was on his left forearm set in stark, bold lines; a scimitar and a longsword threaded together with roses and thorns. Pretty cool and Booker made sure to tell him so.

That had been three months ago. Three months of waiting for the other shoe to drop, the inevitable moment when Joe says he's gonna move out and into Nicky's unit. For the second it hits his best friend that there really wasn't a place for someone like him in this equation. Two months of sitting around until he wraps up his current contract with the museum in the city and the curator takes him aside to ask him if he would be interested in working for a private collector in Turkey. Two years to work on a team of freelancers. Two years on the other side of the continent. Booker said yes with no hesitation.

"Hey, you good?"

Booker knocks his bottle of beer to Copley's. He is one of the newer persons to join their friend group but it feels like they've know each other for a very long time. His warm smile anchors Booker to the here and now and he is stupidly grateful for his presence. The man was steadfast and calm, and it made sense to Booker that he'd be the only one he told about his leaving. "Yeah. I'm ready to go whenever you are."

He'd snuck a duffle bag of his things out to Copley's house the day before and then two suitcases when Joe was over at Nicky's last night. Right before the party to celebrate Joe's birthday, he had brought his carry on out to Copley's car. His name was still on the lease and he has left instructions to help pay for his part of the rent until the end of the year if Joe would like to continue staying here. Copley will help ship the rest of his things after a month. All that's left to do is leave.

Joe had been looking forward to introducing Nicky to his family and friends, and this party was perfect for it. Booker feels bereft at the thought that this could be the last time he sees him in a long while and he cranes his neck to spy him in the center of the room, accepting a kiss from Nicky as the birthday cake is brought out from the kitchen. He holds that image of Joe, smiling from ear to ear and hopes he won't hate him too much for leaving without saying goodbye.

"Let's go."

His Turkish is passable at best but he gets by well enough. The rest of the restoration team were up and coming names mixed with pioneers in the field and despite the lingering heart ache, Booker finds himself pleasantly settled and happy with the work he gets to do. Everyone seems to be equally as excited as he is to be working on their employer's personal collection of paintings and sculptures, in addition to the rare books that Booker has never seen outside of museums and archives.

It's good work and it keeps him busy. It stops him from thinking about Joe too much.

Booker had found thirteen missed calls and twenty texts and ten voicemails when he lands. He hesitates only for a moment before deleting everything that wasn't from Copley or his work.

As if sensing he was being summoned by thought, his phone rings as he basks in the afternoon sunshine whilst reading a book on his off day, Copley's name flashes on his screen.

"You still alive, then?"

"Alive and kicking," Copley says over the line with a laugh. "I swear, Joe is going to eviscerate me one of these days."

Booker shakes his head, marking his page and setting his book aside. The sunlight feels good on his skin and he takes a deep lungful of air. "He won't. He's way too nice."

"You didn't see him glare when I packed the last of your things into the boxes. They're shipped, by the way. Should reach you in a week tops."

"Thanks. I owe you big time."

"Oh, you owe me more than big time. When I come over to visit, I want you pulling out all the stops for me. I want the five star experience, Mr Booker. No expense spared," Copley chuckles.

"Alright, alright," Booker laughs. "I'm sure I can rustle something up. Just let me know when, alright?"

Copley hums and they fall into a comfortable pause. "How are you? Really. Don't lie."

He tightens his grip on his phone, swallowing tightly. "I miss him every day but that's not new. I think I'll keep missing him for a while yet."

"That's normal. I'm not surprised. I think he misses you too, you know?"

"He has Nicky now. He doesn't need me. I'm... I'm just his best friend with a stupid crush that had made plans to spend the rest of my life with him. I don't fit in it any more and he deserves more than I could ever give him," He swallow tightly, licking his lips. "Copley, he'll be okay."

"But will you?"

Booker doesn't have an answer to that. When his things arrive a week and a half later, he accepts it and begins to unpack his books. He's grateful to have his familiar favourites and is eager to fill his shelves when he spots the edges of an envelope peeking out of a battered copy of Neruda. It was a letter and it was addressed to him, though the handwriting is unfamiliar to him.

Dear Sebastien, it starts and this clues him in that this person isn't someone who knows him well. No one outside of his employers and colleagues call him Sebastien.

I hope you don't mind. I'll be slipping this along with the books. I really do hope it finds you well. I don't have your number and judging by the way Joe seems to not receive a reply from you, you might have changed it. I would ask it from Copley but I do not know him well enough and you deserve someone you can speak to without any awkwardness. I write this letter because I want to know you better. It occurred to me that we have never exchanged more than a handful of words whenever we meet and it was always about Joe. I found myself curious about you even if it feels like I know you from all that Joe talks about you. He still talks about you. Even if it is in confusion as to why you left us. I don't write to judge you. I just want to be your friend. If you are amenable, please send your reply to me care of the address on the back of this paper. I hope that you do. I won't tell Joe if you don't want me to.

Sincerely, Nicky.

Booker flips the paper and sees that it's for the church he'd half-remembered being the one that Joe had mentioned off-handedly once. He rereads the words, thrown by the whole thing. He tucks it into his pocket, pushing it to the back of his mind as he focuses on unpacking his life. But the shape of it digs against his skin and he cannot help unfolding it every few minutes to read it all over again.

Each word was carefully pressed and written with intent. He finds his thumb brushing over the looping Joe, but it is the careful He still talks about you that decides things for him.

Scratching his chest absently, he tears out an empty page from his notebook as writes, If we're going to be friends, you'd better call me Booker.

The seasons change and his correspondence with Nicky grows from a weekly letter to every few days, to Booker posting a letter only to receive a reply for the one he sent two days ago when he arrives back in his flat. Booker takes to sending a box of baklava over an overnight service and Nicky sends him a handwritten recipe for his Nonna's tomato soup when Booker off-handedly mentions a sniffle.

Eventually it gets easier to talk about Joe and Booker tells Nicky on what he likes and what he doesn't, how to best care for him; he's allergic to a certain brand of detergent, he always forgets his scarf in the depths of winter so always stuff one in his coat pocket, he loves it when you caress his hair, he doesn't support any team in football but he loves watching a game and he always chooses the team that starts on the right side of the pitch, ask his mother for her recipe for lamb stew and make that for him when he's having a busy week.

Nicky never seems to be bothered by him telling him all these things and in turn, Booker learns that Nicky cannot function before his first cup of coffee, that he misses the quiet of his life in the seminary but he is glad he can do more as he is, that he has a few kids that he works with that he is hoping will get into gifted programmes that can help them excel in academia, that if he hadn't done the almost priest route, he would have been a doctor or a medic.

It was ridiculously effortless to be friends with Nicky and he finds himself actually looking forward to his letters and random bits and bobs in the mail. Sometimes Nicky sends Booker Joe’s sketches and he keeps them up on his bedside, keeping them in sight as he falls asleep at night. Other times there’s a picture or two, taken by Nicky, of Joe. Joe on the corner of the sofa, curled up and dozing, Joe eyes crinkling as he laughs at something. Joe with those ridiculous sunglasses they bought on a whim over a very wet Welsh afternoon.

As the first chill of the season sets in, Booker asks about Joe.

He's fine. Missing you. We're heading to his family's beach house. He said you both used to go together?

Booker finds that he can smile a little easier when the memories come or when it is brought up that Joe misses him. It still tastes a little bittersweet but he can be happy about how he had the chance to experience these things with Joe. Even if he hadn't been the one to keep having them.

Yes. He writes, But you both can do this together now. Make sure you pack extra blankets for yourself. I'm sure you know that he hogs them.

Nicky replies with a box of Marks and Spencer Welsh Cakes which Booker thanks with an assortment of Turkish Delights.

Their correspondence slows as the weather cools further. Copley, when he tells him about what’s happening over Skype, merely asks him if it i a good idea to be even putting himself in the same sphere as Joe and Nicky when he had moved across the continent just to get away from the heartbreak.

“I don’t see how it couldn’t be,” Booker says over the sizzling of the butter as he makes the cheese toasties that Joe used to love for breakfasts. He scratches at his chest, eyes watching the way the cheese oozes off its side.

“Mate, I don’t think you’re far removed enough to actually know how catastrophic this could be.”

“O ye, of little faith,” Booker huffs, flipping the toastie. “At some point I would like to be able to exist in the same city as him without melting into a puddle of heartbreak. If being friends with his soulmate helps get me there, I’m all for it.”

“You are a masochist, Mr Booker.”

Booker laughs even as he burns his finger on the pan.

He works harder than ever, learning and improving his own techniques under the tutelage of his colleagues and can appreciate the opportunity. There's already talks of him going to New York after the New Year's to accompany some of the artifacts that are being lent out for display. Booker is climbing the stairs up to his building, head down, free hand rubbing at his chest and reading through the latest methods of restoration on his phone when he bumps into a person rushing down.

“Oh, sorry--”

“Booker.”

Joe’s eyes are big and wide when their gazes meet. Booker blinks, breathes in deep before looking behind him to see Nicky watching them from his landing, exhaling shakily as he whispers, deep and with feeling, “What the fuck are you guys doing here?”

Nicky nurses his cup of tea from his lean against the window and deftly avoids the inquiring glare Booker keeps sending his way from the safety of the kitchen. Joe, on the other hand, is carefully prowling the space of his studio flat he has made home, obviously cataloguing the way his books sit on the shelf and the way he has kept the space marginally clean-ish, how there are pictures and sketches tacked to the wall behind the dining table, the clear signs of a life he has built here.

“Let me get this straight, you picked up Nicky’s mail from the church, saw my handwriting, and decided to come all the way to Turkey. Just to see me,” Booker says, gesturing at their backpacks leaning against his door. “Again, let me ask, why?”

“Why?” Joe laughs, throat clicking when the sound comes out rough and raw. “You ask me why I would fly out to Turkey in the middle of the holiday season just to see my best friend who left me without telling me he got a job in Turkey and was going to leave without even so much as a goodbye, and you are asking me why I would come all the way out here just to chase you down? Are you perhaps short of a marble!”

“And what was I supposed to do! Linger around you when I was dying every single time I looked at you and knew I wasn’t your soulmate? We were going to spend our lives together, Joe! I loved you!”

Booker slaps his hand over his mouth and turns away, focusing on his breathing. “You love me?” Joe says softly in the stillness of the flat.

“I did. I do and I’m sorry,” He sighs, feeling his chest shake with his trembling breath. He presses the heel of his hand to his sternum. “I do. And it’s okay, Joe. I know you don’t love me in that way. It’s okay. I just need some time away to figure out how to love you like you need me to.”

“And what do you know about what I need from you?”

Booker feels Joe come close and allows himself to be turned around to be face to face with him. “Do you know I love you too?”

“Yeah,” He chuckles wetly, rubbing his nose with the back a hand. “I’m your best friend.”

Nicky choose this moment to speak. “Booker, look at him and listen. It’s what I’ve been trying to tell you in our letters. “

There’s an insistence in Nicky’s gaze that galvanises Booker to turn to Joe and meet his eyes head on. “I love you, Book. I always did. I still do. Even after the bullshit you’ve put me through.”

“But Nicky--” “Nicky’s my soulmate and I love him too.” Joe smiles, eyes gone liquor soft when Nicky returns his fond look. “But I’ve loved you for the longest time, Book. I still want to spend the rest of my life with you.”

The itch on his chest starts to burn.

“And you’re alright with this?” Booker breathlessly asks Nicky, taking a step back. “This- This whole Love, Actually thing is a situation you’re okay with?”

“Yes,” Nicky says, standing to cross the distance between them. Joe reaches for him then, tenderly touching him by the elbow while Nicky slides a hand to his cheeks and Booker feels immediately overwhelmed. He parts his mouth to speak when he doubles over dropping to his knees when the fire spreading over the skin on his chest sends him to his knees gasping for air.

Joe keeps a hold on him while Nicky looks him over with clear worry. “Fuck!” Booker groans, trying to arch away. Clawing at his shirt, he tears at it until the buttons plink on the floor as they fall. For a moment, he does not register the dark lines that spread over his sternum. Running shaking fingers over his raw skin, Booker barely holds back the awed gasp at the scimitar and longsword twined together with thorns and roses.

“Well,” Nicky laughs softly, cupping him by the side of the head, sweeping him into a gentle kiss. In that second that their lips touch, Booker feels his heartbeat skip a notch. “I guess this answers things, doesn’t it?”

-- Epilogue --

“That’s the last of the boxes.”

Joe kicks the door shut behind him, dropping the bags in his hands to the floor, ignoring the evil eye sent his way by Nicky who had warned them against scuffing up the hardwood floors. Booker throws himself onto the sofa with a sigh and Joe, grinning like a maniac, does a running start before launching himself onto Booker.

“Oof!” And then after a beat and a wiggle. “Joe, you’re suffocating me and I can feel your dick against my ass.”

They’ve finally moved into their first home together. It had taken a bit more effort after Turkey to keep their fledgling relationship going but all’s well, ends well and Booker is back with them after finishing up his contract with glowing recommendations and growing his contact list. Joe was ridiculously proud and he knows Nicky feels the same too.

They’ll need to work hard over the next two days to spruce the place up in time for their housewarming. Their friends and families will be here and Joe cannot wait to show off his loves. Wrapping his arms around Nicky and pulling him along back to the sofa where Booker is, he basks in the happy warmth of feeling whole with his heart in one piece.

#joe x booker x nicky #booker x joe x nicky #joe x nicky x booker #the old guard fic #gab writes stuff #please dear god give me wisdom to never do this again #this was too long and i am FUCKING EXHAUSTED #I am going to bed

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seb-owns-these-tatas · 4 years

Text

Witcher of the Night (Chapter 19) (With visuals included 😉)

THIS IS MODERN ERA READER WHO WOKE UP IN THE DIMENSION OF THE WITCHER.

UPDATES FOR WITCHER OF THE NIGHT WILL BE PUBLISHED EVERY SATURDAY NOW IN MY TIME (GMT +8) (Posted earlier today, thank you very much for my thirst! Heehee!)

CHAPTER 18

WOTN MASTERLIST

Characters: Geralt of Rivia x small!Naive!Reader

Summary: Evil is evil. People and abomination may be the reason why the world can't be a better place especially in the continent.

Warnings: Blood. The 'Kikker' mentioned here ain't a real monster in the witcher. I just made it up. A bloody, thrashed reader. A maddened, feral, tired witcher. Degrading names. People being assholes. With Geralt’s visuals included but I don’t know how this is a warning?

Words: 5.6k

A/N: A story cannot consist of only glitters and rainbows. Sometimes, it's better to add darkness in it and a ton shit of angst. Heh. I’m cackling with the Geralt GIF’s I’ve included. It’s like he’s so bored and done af while talking to anyone. 😭😂😂😂 GERALT, OH GERALT. I DESERVE A KISS GERALT FROM HOW DEDICATED I AM TO YOU! Please appreciate my effort, people! LMAO 😭😂💗 ENJOY AND HAVE A NICE WEEKEND!

TAGLIST IS STILL OPEN FOR THIS ONE! Heehee! Don’t forget to REBLOG, COMMENT OR GIVE FEEDBACK IF YOU DID LOVE THIS CHAPTER! IT’LL MAKE ME SMILE! Sorry for the grammatical errors and such because English isn’t my mother tongue! PLEASE LEAVE FEEDBACK AFTER READING, BB! This is kinda a rough draft. I apologize for many errors.

Disclaimer: PNG’s and pictures used in edits are not mine even the GIF’s too. However, the edits and this fanfic is definitely from moi. Character development and personalities are based from my understanding and how I want them to be.(Credits to those who made the GIF’s. Some don’t have their watermarks included. I don’t remember where I’ve saved the others from)

MY WORKS ARE NOT NOT NOT NOT NOOOOOOT TO BE POSTED ON ANY OTHER WEBSITES. My official username in Wattpad is “TATATHEPOTATO” and that’s the only other site I have for writing aside from Tumblr. Thank you, Tater tots!

It was at around nightfall when Geralt of Rivia has arrived at the foot of the castle's barbican, his swords lunched on his back with bags in his hand and a sour expression written on his picturesque face that screams he wasn't there for a peaceful negotiation.

He'd calmly walked along the aqueduct, his footsteps heavy and impatient as he dropped his bags on the ground, familiarizing over the enormous castle that stood before him and he couldn't help but sigh, atopic of the whole vibe that every castle has given the white wolf. He really didn't want to cross paths with the royals ever again after that show he had by helping Jaskier and he hoped that his help for you didn't include another child of surprise that can happen.

Group of cavaliers shielded the gates with their swords on their hands. Geralt kept silent with a stern purse of his lips and a tightened jaw, he heavily sighed another one and continued to be uncommunicative when one equestrian audibly nagged for what the butcher of Blaviken needed.

Geralt deliberately rolled his eyes as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other, giving them a scowl in which they've didn't took it very nicely as they began to draw their swords.

The witcher has heard footfalls echoing from the castle, hasty and restive and it didn't take a second for Geralt to see the king's close friend and an advisor for the royal family emerge from the gates.

Eanraig came forth out of the port; one of Caed Myrkvid's druids and someone whom Geralt has been talking to since decades ago where he has visited Caed Dhu and having their first meeting in the black forest.

The scholar wore a brown long, surcoat as he step foot out of the gates, his white long beard and wild, unwashed gray wavy hair stopping on the tips of his shoulders. Thin lines of wrinkles crafted his face which has given him the look that he was nearly old. His grey colored eyes wholly jiggered to see the white wolf in the foot of their fortress and with an expression that simply tells him that he was pissed.

He always does look like it but the druid knew that Geralt was truly feeling that way and it wasn't just his normal face that you see everyday.

"Yield your swords this instance!"

Geralt gave him a nonchalant flicker of his eyes, opening his mouth to gruffly speak, "Eanraig." his face remained stoic, his timbre sounding utterly lackadaisical when he addressed the scholar.

Eanraig trudged his way to where he was. The soldiers immediately surrendering their weapons down as they firmly stood from side to side, watching the two acquaintances converse in a quiet and calm talk. The druid was cordial as he gave a smile, "Geralt of Rivia. They have been expecting you,"

"Hmm." the latter hummed out of nowhere, narrowing his golden amber eyes at the Elder Druid in acrimony, "---they've taken what's mine. I've been told to never step foot within the berm of eminent citadels,"

Sardonically speaking, Earnraig tilted his head to the side. The flicker in his eyes humorous and mocking, "Yet, here you are, witcher." he throatily chuckled and croaked, his voice sounding drier than usual due to being long in the tooth, "---I shall guess, you are here to save a lover?"

Geralt kept his mouth in a tight thin line, shifting his eyes away from the druid with his question unanswered by the witcher.

"What unlucky fate you have, Geralt. Your lovers always bring out the worst in you---because you don't appear to be in the greatest and friendliest condition,"

"When did I ever?" the white wolf hoarsely mumbled beneath his breath, sighing in the process of it all as he frowned, taking heed of the feeble man before him. His tone was derisive and saturnine for what caustic comment he curtly claimed, "---How are you keeping up with their scoundrel works of art?"

Eanraig smiled; though, Geralt read that it wasn't meant to say he was jovial over the regime and changes he has noticed when the world began to change. His smile was brittle and unconvincing, "I never did. Since Tybalt arrived and has been taken as the crown for our army of gallants, destitution has taken its place. Heedless for the Kaedwenians because of how the vampire is capturing women for safe keeping, greasing his own palms by selling them to anyone who will want them,"

The witcher expected that answer before even asking. He nodded back at the druid, completely austere and phlegmatic as he kept silent; not letting the scholar know what he was thinking. Eanraig lifted a hand to give Geralt a pat on his burly, armored shoulder.

"King Veduka and Queen Makeda will speak to you once we get there," pause. "---And I doubt they'll be happy to see a witcher who has rejected their favor after two years. Come,"

As that has been said, the gatekeepers unbolted the entryway; given the approval from the king's advisor as Geralt grabbed his belongings, stringing along with him as they walked the route towards where the gatehouse is. The earth toned portcullis at its full defense as he sees it from far north.

"I wouldn't be helping their beloved cursed prince when they haven't coerced me into complying, Eanraig."

The druid strolled objectively alongside Geralt, continuously discoursing in the subject about who made him adhere to the king's favors---taking one person for abduction and he was already showing himself to them with no begging included unlike staying thoroughly surreptitious in the deepest parts of Kaedwen's forest. Only one woman was needed for him to accept such.

"If only you would've seen how they saw this as an opportunity to benefit them. I know your woman doesn't belong to this world. They knew your weakness, Witcher."

Eanraig has heard him hum, lower than his usual habit of susurration and it sounded like a sound of disapproval, "The sorceress has plans for her. Tybalt has hunted down a woman who exactly looks and sounds like her. But, exactly the opposite from her characteristics. She was one of Kaedwenians sly thieves."

Savia. He suddenly remembered out of the blue as he kept tacit. She was the woman who looked exactly like you despite of having the contrary of her traits over yours. Geralt pondered over the thought, finding it difficult to decipher how there was another person like you in his universe, a doppleganger of some sort that was entirety a clone of your genetics. Maybe Savia was a doppler or his midget? No. You were teleported to their dimension with no magic nor strength to do so.

What was seriously happening in the continent?

Eanraig saw how Geralt was in deep thought for what was shared; never one to beat around the bush; he enunciated straight to the point, "The king has been convinced that she's her twin. Howbeit, I never believed it nor did Ingrith or Tybalt. It was the queen's manipulation because her double has taken one of her favorite Cobalt necklaces that was given by the king,"

"---and now, they are starving her to death. Even walloped with a stick on her back till she was bleeding and wounded,"

The sentence has given Geralt a whiplash. He ceased from walking alongside Eanraig, his stature turning rigid and immobile with his jaw clenching for what was heard. Did he heard him right?

You are being aggressed in the hands of another when he does not lay a single hand on you; being battered by humans who didn't know exactly who you are nor do they have proof that you are the person who has stolen items from the queen.

"What?"

Eanraig's fair share of talk explains why his chest felt suffocating and utterly uneasy. They were hurting you till the heart of the sorceress was content enough.

The druid continued his blabbers, heedful of Geralt's stiff stance and his sudden reclusive mood, "---Ingrith told the queen that she was somehow cursed with a fate just like you,"

It wasn't a second of waiting till Geralt hoarsely mumbled his feelings out in the open and only for the scholar to hear, "Fuck." he raved, the witcher's thick eyebrows in a tight twist. His forehead creasing with deep wrinkles for his blood to boil even faster. He turned his head to the side, his teeth tightly gritted together as he went livid.

"That doesn't sound quite nice," Eanraig shifted his attention towards the raging white wolf who was glaring at the tall castlewalls in front of them, shooting daggers after daggers with his fists tightly clenched on his sides. A predatory glaze in his glowing eyes that stood under the pale moonlight, the ferocity bouncing back as he tried to calm him down. He reached out a hand to palm Geralt's tense shoulder, giving him a pat.

"Now, now, now, Weccan. Do not let your anger control you."

"How can I?!" Geralt spat in his utmost feral tone; fierce and aggressive for thinking how you were drowning in your own blood right at this moment.

The witcher was growling beneath Eanraig's touch; his anger felt through his body as Geralt was breathing in deep slow breaths, trying to control how his mind instantly went straight into knowing who has given orders to hurt you. There was an ample amount of the fact that you could be cut off a limb over stealing something you surely have been accused of. The Druid stepped in front of him, clasping both his fingers on his shoulders to break whatever thoughts he was thinking as he stared straight into his wrath-filled eyes.

"I've already treated her wounds---But, I think it isn't enough for how she's raining on their blows. You should have just accepted the first time they've asked a favor before it even ended up this way,"

Geralt's upper lip twitched from how he was silently basking in his displeasure and rue; never wanting to open his mouth at the moment for fire might escape his mouth with how maddened he was feeling. The tight stones topping off his chest and making him more uneasy than he can ever get.

"Vesemir has taught you to never uphold the law," Eanraig added as a matter of fact, pursing his lip as he continued, the look in his eyes utterly amused for how Geralt's destiny was falling in the wrong places, but emotionally feeling as if it was right because you came along, "---but, you are here to save such love that will never overcome the law that people have been following,"

The Druid has heard him huff from the choices of his words, looking away to stare at the castlewalls, digging up holes that he had been gathering since the moment he arrived, "You are saving the love of your life,---" he paused, a smile forming on Eanraig's decrepit face; his deep wrinkles forming as his face contorted in sheer entertainment.

"---and the woman who shall make miracles come true,"

Geralt was immediately taken to the abandoned round tower; where Prince Althalos has been staying since he has been cursed---bullish that they could keep him there and away from people. The prince has not been damned as a beast just like Nivellen. The prince has been cursed as a Kikker. A harmless monster in their world that only kills his own kind as well. They were found in the caves, masking in their solidarity until the full moon comes out and their hunger will be very much triggered to find something to munch on.

When they could not find their own kind to devour, they somehow manage to eat others instead.

Geralt couldn't help but snicker to his own at that, maybe the prince was kind of harmful instead of harmless that Sorceress Ingrith might have described him, peppering her words with pleasant lines that the witcher was highly disappointed of because she sounded as if she was in favor for what was happening.

He walked along the doors in an unfettered march of his feet, humming in displeasure with a scowl twisting his features that turned into tiny smirk; noting the buffet of abundant food that was left unfinished due to reasons he didn't know about as it happened before he arrived.

The tight grimace written on his face was enough for the king to know that he has not seen you yet since the moment you've arrived. Ingrith has probably prohibited him to as she has lead him to the prince.

King Viduka sat on his chair; proud and virtuous in the middle of a long table where he was left alone. The witcher has never seen the king up until today and one thing's for sure as he noticed the pale, horrid color of his skin. Just as much as how his have been, tinted in the lightest color that can be considered as if the king has no blood to function properly like how a king should have been.

His eyes were almond shaped, but with a nebulous glow swimming in the hazel color---appearing to be like he was being cast in a deathless spell or such poison that had a long term effect.

But, Geralt mindlessly shook his worries away from the people who have given you pain. The queen has probably been giving King Viduka such concoctions that could make him submit to her on whatever she wanted---with the help of the sorceress of course.

"He needs help," he bluntly started before he was even asked to speak, raising both brows for wanting to tell the king that he also needed help for whatever Queen Makeda has been giving him. Howbeit, Geralt has shut his mouth tight and hardly tried to become forth with respect amongst the king.

The king audibly sipped on his wine, casting him a glance under the antique glass he has chugged on. His expressions incomprehensible for the white wolf because of how horrid and disheveled his beard and mustache is. Though, his response made Geralt know he was giving him a lour, "This is why you've been dragged here to serve your purpose,---" pause. "---The only thing that can get your mutations quite useful for our world besides butchering my people. I've heard you've slaughtered my men,"

Geralt's mouth formed a tight thin line from the king's bald comment, his jaw set to create a grouch that the king has expected from his kind---the lack of emotion thereof and also the bluntness that the witcher may cannot control no matter if the person in front of was highly or not.

"Because your beloved army leader has been forcing women held captive," the white wolf stated as a matter of fact, cocking his head to the side as if it was a cocky comment.

King Viduka scoffed from his sheer honesty; skipping the dillydally that most men have been giving him due to being royal, "---and what has saving people benefit to you, witcher? must I say, you have not receive coins from it, correct? or was it because of the little woman? you are killing off my kind to save yours,"

Between them both was an understanding of protection from Geralt. He stood before him with a will that he had back in the marketplace. The white haired witcher was standing inside his castle with a purpose that he surely deciphered from using you as a bait to comply.

You were too important for him that the king could feel that Geralt will be begging for more than just your safeguard.

"Your way of asking favors can be quite disappointing for a king,"

Out of the blue, he's heard metal slice through its own accord; both knights who stood beside King Viduka unraveled their weapons, pointing them at Geralt who stood with a nonchalant expression on his face, thoroughly not moved nor impressed by their reactions---perhaps, also in a shitty mood for ruining his week by kidnapping you in the comfort of his home.

"Sheathe your swords," the king commanded to the hostile cavaliers; not taking a second to drop their weapons as they were told.

Geralt continued to educate the king in his perspective and comprehension over his cursed son; remembering how his school has taught him countless of monsters he could never forget.

"Call your son 'the frog prince' or some hideous sort," his eyebrows jutted closer as he sternly explained, "---but, this work is not made by a monster for me to hunt,"

King Viduka couldn't help but lean away from the back of his throne, his eyes adamant that he was not serious over telling him that his son may not be assisted by the Witcher

"---He is cursed by a witch. I do not butcher people for the sake of someone else's life,"

The words that left Geralt's mouth felt like a rejection or an offense that King Viduka has never experienced from anyone else. He couldn't believe what he was hearing---he couldn't accept such abnegation over a mutant who was crude and utterly unaccepted by humanity. His highness has quickly stood from his seat, throwing his glass on the floor which has shattered but has not surprised Geralt nor have receive a jerk of his body from his sudden anger---the antagonism coming was a result of a witcher that they have tried contacting or following around for two years; begging help for the future of Kaedwen.

Yet, he came to the palace with his foot up his mouth. Straightaway, sounding like he was declining the proposal.

The king was entirely disappointed by how useless he was being.

"---you are good-for-nothing! A hypocrite who says he does not kill another to save someone else's!" King Viduka has spat completely enraged, "---Yet, you have saved your tiny whore by killing mine!"

The white wolf couldn't help but clench his fists on his sides, clenching his teeth behind his closed mouth; his golden peepers glaring before the dependable king who kisses whatever Queen Makeda has been walking upon---a king who does not care for the people as long as he saves his.

Irritation was written all over Geralt's face, hearing what King Viduka has described you for what purpose you have in his life. Being nothing but a woman who could cater to his lechery when you had not been at all.

His midget was more than that. Definitely not his whore that people has been accusing you of.

Geralt's selfishness for rejecting the king's offers right on his face was like asking to be beheaded. He does not want to be involved by such ever again when he has no idea who this witch may have been. If being frank over the king was like asking to be beheaded, then a search for a witch that does not want to be found was waiting for a monster to put him into demise.

"I do not regret what the queen has done for punishing. Your tiny harlot has taken something valuable from her and corporal punishment was the answer that we all see fit---seeing that she might have sold the necklace for the sake of you wanting more coins,"

He subtly shook his head from the king's indefinite accusation, verbally fighting for your safety and for the truth that may set you free, "She is not the thief you have been accusing her about."

Yet, the king was determined of his opinions---the queen's opinions over you; seeming to be brainwashed by both women who was a shadow of his reign. One greedy sorceress and the other was his cunning beloved that no matter what other people say, he shall not believe because only his trusted people were right.

Geralt heavily sighed, seeing King Viduka shooting daggers towards him. His eyes wild and disappointed, utterly vexed for what he has heard.

"The world may say that you own two swords. One for killing humans and the other for slaughtering beasts," he deadpanned, bane spitting out of his mouth as he sharply stared at Geralt who sighed for his resoluted perception.

"---but, I doubt you do not know the differences of each as of now,"

After minutes of his silence, Geralt may have not realized that from the moment he opened his mouth, his teeth was barred, fangs overlooked by the king because of his unspoken thoughts; by not being heard by a person who had his mind closed for whatever he has to say and so, the butcher of Blaviken breathed a few heavy sighs, promptly shutting his eyes closed before he spoke through gritted teeth.

"Let me see her. I need...to see her, your highness."

He was stunned to hear himself plead before a disagreeable human. A selfish entitled man who knew nothing how to raise a kingdom. The rebellious son of the previous king has been forced into this madness and manipulation from everyone that he does not see.

The latter waited for any oracular answer. They've shared stares and huffs of breath before Geralt shook his head, turning on his heel to leave immediately because he knew that his request for seeing you will never be given. Might search for you instead, he silently thought to himself with a tight scowl on his face.

"Bring her in,"

He stopped short from hearing the king's words. Ceasing himself in the midst of marching off, his back towards the king when it has not taken the horsemen a minute to drag you to where he was.

Dragging was the correct term for your feeble, shaky demurrals out of the door. Your voice echoing from a far distance and Geralt couldn't help but shot a glance over the locked wooden doors, his amber eyes turning wider as your voice became clearer when each second passed by, hinting your status that you were not feeling well by the breathless, hoarse begging you've managed to beseech.

The doors opened to release two vulnerable knights wearing their commoner clothing and a small, fragile woman who was mistreated from her limbs; dragging you by your battered arms. Patches of blue and mauve painted your skin as if they were trying to beat you to death, a law back in the historical era where it was used for criminals or sinners to speak the truth or punished for their faults.

Your other cheek was swollen, vermillion owning a cut as if somebody has slapped you---also dehydrated from starving you for a day and a half, receiving no liquid to drink or anything besides their endless wallops.

The witcher was beyond shocked to even comprehend what he was seeing, his breath stopping from the moment he has seen you enter the room; utterly downtrodden, helpless and wounded.

"S-Stop...I-I don't...I don't need any more beating. I told you, I don't have your necklace. This amulet I have is mine. I didn't steal anything. Please---please tell me Geralt's here," King Viduka has gestured towards the horsemen; bringing up a finger to tell that they should show the witcher what you looked like to be hit in endless battering and how they've treated you before he even came around.

The knights tightened their hold against a mahogany, wooden stick. Hard enough to fracture your bones if it was given more power; but, Geralt knew what they were ordered to do before they can even move and he was quick enough to march towards where they were; graving and in distraught for what he felt. His chest suffocating and tight---anguished to see and desperate to keep you close in his arms.

He rushed to where you were hunched down and bleeding to death, shielding you from their assaults as the witcher draw out his metal sword from his back, angling the newly sharpened blade on one of the knight's jugular; golden eyes burning with betrayal and desolation for what they have done, for what power do people with royal blood have to hurt his person this way. They've treated you like a rag doll or a monster for making you bleed and even plan to starve you to death.

Their actions has made Geralt's blood boil in extremity.

"Do not dare---," he breathed fire, fuming as he warned. His words said with a fiery emphasis, "---touch or lay your hands on her,"

The smaller knight whom Geralt has pointed his sword upon growled in the back of his throat, a signal which has made him aim the tip of his sword against the vulnerable part---unbending and purposive for what he wanted them to apprehend that he was not flippant for unsheathing his steel sword.

"---people who knew better of my kind are heedful that I will not bat an eye to slit down your throats with my weapon,"

Geralt has heard you call out for him in a sapless shake of your voice and the simple acknowledgement has taken his attention away from the royal guards as he slightly turned his head behind---seeing you lay on the cold hard ground that made his mouth twitch, teeth barred and gritted and he couldn't help but emit a rough huff of his breath; sounding like a growl of his frustrations for letting this happen to his family.

King Viduka spoke in command, hiding the smile beneath his unkempt beard.

"Lay down your sword, Witcher. I do not plan to create bloodshed over the mutant who will help my son,"

Geralt avoided looking into their eyes and set his focus on the battered woman behind him who was coughing out her pain. You've used all your strength to pull yourself from the floors, your vision blurry and unclear for the tears you've shed all night, finding it hard to register that your witcher was finally within your reach. You thought it was all in the sense of hallucination until he'd hastily whispered the endearment that he had for you---the nickname you've hated prior of meeting him the first time, yet ending up missing the word when he doesn't use it for you.

His appearance was making your heart cry and eventually, you did after realizing a bunch of sobs escaping your lips when he has hauled you up in his arms; crouching before you and pulling your beaten body to his, aware from the pained whimper that followed suit and he was suddenly aware of using such strength with you---immediately turning gentle from your response.

"Midget?"

"G...Geralt? you're here..." you hiccuped from the cries, feeling the sting from the salt of your tears. Lately discovering the numb, sore feeling on your left eye and Geralt has eyed it with such animosity because it was a swollen wound.

Your vision turned clear after a languid blink of your eyes, welcoming his warmth that you've missed after being hurt by people who surrounded you who'd done it by physically doing so. The information you have gathered from the four corners of the cell you were in repeatedly replaying inside your mind; not bothering to forget to tell it to him besides your other secret that you ought not to tell yet.

"Don't...Don't find the witch..I-I've heard from the person with me---he's an elf. He said that this witch can never be found---it may be just a trap or an endless hunt for you,"

The latter was stone-deaf from your wounded image; his golden eyes large as if he couldn't believe what he was witnessing. Geralt didn't acknowledged your message and continued to state his own instead.

"They've hurt you."

He uttered in disbelief, intently examining your face near his. Your fingers were shaky as you reached up to touch his face. But, Geralt has beat you to it and grabbed yours instead, subtly shaking his head to silently tell you not to move for the pain it can cost. His rough hand was warm and comforting, giving solace in the midst of how being cold you were treated by their world. The only thing that was warm is Geralt and his family.

They were the only thing benevolent compared to their outskirts.

"They don't believe me. I--I never stole the queen's necklace. I--I have never left your home,"

"I know you didn't." Geralt gruffly muttered with a cordial, soft tone that made you sob more than ever---how nice it felt to have someone who actually believed you was like hopping in the shower after a summery day; refreshing to be hearing another person to fight for your truth rather than being forced to tell lies.

"You'll never get to find the witch, Geralt. Y-You'll never get to lift the curse because...because---"

The stammers you've emitted, how crucial it was to feel you in pain---finding ache in his chest from the moment he'd seen you in that status; painted like a rainbow shown after a heavy rain but drafted to show the suffering you've experienced in the castles of Kaedwen. His glowing golden eyes turned a shade darker, filling with sudden torment and affliction as you laid in his arms.

You've slightly turned your head, nuzzling to be shielded by Geralt's armored, hirsute chest that made you sigh after hours of trying to sleep on stones, finding home just by staying close to the white wolf.

"Your highness," Geralt abruptly spoke, making you shut your eyes open to hear what he needed to say. Based on how he set his mouth in a tight, straight line. Your witcher was setting down his bargains and favors that he certainly does not do for people of royal.

"I will seek for your witch," he stated with determination, his back towards the king; not taking the risk to let him see the ire pooling in his eyes as he continued.

"---in exchange for your people not to touch mine and if your sorceress, precious vampire or horsemen lay a single hand on her again, I will never hesitate to kill the witch and let your son die with his curse forever,"

Perturbed by his sudden declaration; stubborn to even listen for what he was about to expect by searching apparitions of a witch out in the woods. You've desperately called out his name in endless croaks, hopelessly pulling at his armor yet Geralt was having rigid opinions especially having you wounded in his arms.

"Cease her punishment. I will not save yours if I know that you are punishing my..."

Golden eyes keenly landed on yours, thoroughly protecting you in his sinewy limbs before he seriously and firmly declared another that has made your breath hitch for what he has said.

"---my betrothed,"

King Viduka briskly nodded for his request; badly in need of his aid for his son to live. There was an understanding that he will still keep you within the castle unless Geralt brings him the witch and reverse the curse. He'd kept his eyes on the witcher's back, sitting back on his throne with a smile on his face.

"You have my word, Geralt of Rivia."

FEEDBACKS WILL BE NICE TO RECEIVE! Heehee! Please don’t forget to leave this post without a reblog or comment!

Taglist for WOTN: (Strikethrough means you couldn’t be tagged, Bb. Please check your settings) @alyxkbrl @himarisolace @barkingbullfrog @ayamenimthiriel @hellodevilslittlesister @turkish276 @spookypeachx @grungelovebug @fangirl-inthe-us @nympeth @amirahiddleston @gabethelobster @dreaming-about-fanfictions @uncoolcloudyhead @melaninstylezz @psychosupernaturalhero @missjenniferb @dance-dreamer @marvelousell @kingniazx @angelias134 @tapismyforte @chook007 @covid-donotenter @deadlydemon @cheesecakeisapie @angelofthor @carrieannewaywardson, @plantingmum @stuckupstucky, @shesthelastjedi, @a–1–1–3, @gutfucks, @britty443, @suhke3, @shadowclawstudio88 @ruthoakenshield

Overall witcher taglist: @pizza-eater-i-ate-the-pizza, @crazybutconfidentaf

General taglist for Henry Cavill: @agniavateira, @iloveyouyen, @rahdaleigh, @silverkitten547 @henrythickcavill @kaatelyyynn @madelinelina, @summersong69, @raynosaurus-rex

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foolscapper · 4 years

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Someplace Warmer, Someplace Safer - (How the Wild Things Start Universe)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is not edited/beta'd, so please forgive any rough spots! I'll be cleaning it up and posting it on ao3 at a later time! This also takes place after How the Wild Things Start, and is based on a request sent in by @saintedjack -- thank you!

WARNINGS: PTSD responses, MENTION OF CHILD ABUSE (SEXUAL), please tread carefully if that's hard for you!

In the year of our Lord 2020, Sam Winchester didn't think that Christmas would feel so much less... sore of a spot. Maybe that's because he's practiced a handful of Christmases with Leia and Lilly now and has realized with some clarity that holidays can sometimes be about as good as the number of kids who get excited over it. When it was just him and Dean, it was a coupla beers and memories of little kids who sat in hotel rooms waiting for their parent — singular. Now Lilly is coloring pictures of reindeer and eagerly reminding Dean of what she wants for the hundredth time. ("Yeah, yeah, I got it," Dean grumbles, without even the smallest bit of heat to it, "How could I forget when you drew it on my bedroom wall?") Meanwhile, Leia's fourteen, so the appeal of a 'Santa Claus' isn't really there for her; she and Sam are too alike on that front, having lost whatever magic Christmas would've had when they were very little. But she loves that Lilly loves it. She helps her hang up tinsel and all those basic holiday ornaments around the bunker. When Sam and Dean are out to get the kitsune her dietary needs, she prays to Castiel, makes him trek all the way to Lebanon — just so she can ask him to drive her to the rental box in front of the liquor store for holiday films. Anyway, uh. Sam feels... good. He feels good about it. About Christmas.

First time in forever, he knows, but things evolve over time, right?

Whatever makes them happy makes him happy, and it doesn't help that Dean's starting to get into a bit of a frantic holiday mood himself when he realizes Cas and Leia rented National Lampoon's Holiday Vacation. With one girl on either side of him, his brother chatters on and on about classics, movies like A Christmas Story and the Grinch, and Sam can only roll his eyes in good humor and sound fondness. It's a good day. He hasn't had a nightmare in days — hasn't slept-walked in almost as long (not that it stops Dean from keeping the front door locked, so Sam can't wander out again and scare the shit out of them). It's the day before Christmas, though, and there's plenty of cereal, boxed mac 'n cheese and canned Chef Boyardee, but absolutely nothing that rightfully belongs on a dinner table for the holidays. "I'll be back; just gonna pick up some stuff," he says, while the three are in the middle of Mr. Grinch, you're a bad banana, Mr. Grinch, with the greasy black peel-. Dean snaps out of the trance that had made him 10-years-old for a moment and looks critically at Sam; Lilly doesn't look away from the television, but Leia's sharp gaze shoots to Sam at the same time as Dean's. Dean says, "You sure you don't want us to go, too?" And Sam waves it off. Waves both of them off, since Leia's trying so hard to judge him under her bangs "I'll be fine. Just hitting the grocery for something that works for tomorrow. Please try not to feed them straight sugar while I'm gone?" "Yes, honey," Dean huffs, but there's some hesitance in the way he turns to look back at the TV. He couldn't really blame him, considering what shitty lucky they had apart. Or, well... considering the guilt that still festers in Dean like old, greenish wounds. Sam knows it's there every time his brother glances at pale scars intersecting on his arms, or when he manages to rouse him from a bad dream, or when Sam spaces out at the dinner table until something startles him to attention. Sam's screwed up, and Dean's still gnawing at his own leg for letting it happen. ... Shit happens. Sam tries not to think about it anymore than he has to, because it's not like the muscle memory ever goes away, nor those phantom smells or those reels of the monster rings. No, no, he's not going to think about it. Because today's a good day. It's a good week. He takes the keys to the truck he's kept to himself, makes a mental note to call Castiel and see if he'll stop by for visiting. The air outside is cold and bitterly unfair to the lungs, but he tugs his jacket tighter around himself and wills the old truck AC to start heating him back up. The drive isn't far, and the people at the place he's driving to know him well enough. He's not sure if that's a good or bad thing, especially now that they see him changed so drastically; he's pretty sure Dean just tells them all he'd gotten deployed somewhere and ended up hurt, or something. Sam doesn't bother figuring out the cover story, because he's not ever going to be in the mood to talk about it with Joey Behind the Counter or Leticia Stocking the Shelves, no matter how much he likes them. The bell to the store rings, they wave him in, ask him about his plans for the holidays, tell him all about their kids — he surprises himself by talking about his own, albeit vaguely, because you never know who is truly safe. And even though he has little to no skill in hearty, holiday feasts, he knows the basics from television: cranberry sauce, turkey, stuffing, eggnog, so on and so on. Despite his complaint to Dean not to overfeed the kids on sweets, he ends up grabbing two boxes of themed cookies, too. It's not until he walks out the front door that he feels something's off. He'd never claim to still have the powers he did at age 22, but — the hairs on his neck stand up, goosebumps running along his arms beneath his thick coat. It's hard to say what even caused it; there's nobody around. He glances uneasily left and right, and then makes a slow, cautious walk toward the parking around the corner. His heart thumps in his chest and his mind plays cruel games with him: what if it's a hunter coming for him? Looking for him and his family, after what happened at their old cabin? It hasn't been that long. "Hello," a little, polite voice chirps from seemingly out of nowhere. Sam nearly leaps out of his skin, teeth snapping together as he turns in a fraction of a second — ready to fight, dropping his grocery bags as his hand reaches around the back of him. (Bright lights, feral howls of pain, blood on dirt and black eyed spectators-) His breath catches at the startled teenager with sandy-blonde hair standing in front of him. He's dressed in clothes he's clearly worn for a long time, the knitting on his gloves and cap frayed. The smell of an alleyway greets Sam belatedly, and shame creeps into his face when he realizes just what he's actually looking at here: some homeless kid whose smile has faded into a look of uncertainty. Wanted a buck, but ended up with some over-sized freak having an episode at him. "S—sorry," Sam chokes out. He's trying not to let himself get pulled under, but the lights have... always been so bright. The kid seems appeased by the way Sam steps back, though, and moves to rather calmly start collecting the fallen goods from the ground; for a moment, Sam wonders if he's just gonna take them for the trouble, but the boy starts putting them back into the brown paper bags they'd come in. "It's fine. I must be scarier than I thought." It's said in such an easy way, and he looks up with a kind, gap-toothed smile. "I was going to ask if you could spare some money, but I can see now that I should have made my presence more obvious." ... That's a way for a teenaged boy to put it. It reminds Sam of a particular angel of Thursday and his straightforward, over-complicated way of talk. With a somewhat forced smile, he bends down to quickly collect what the kid hasn't. "No, no, I'm — I'm good at being on edge. It wasn't you. Sorry for... that." He's not sure how to put it. He has a hard time remembering how to talk to people, sometimes. There's something particularly distracting about this one, though. Maybe it's the fact that he's so youthful, covered in dirt and red in the nose. Looks at him like how Leia had — with the hope that Sam can help him. Or is he just projecting? He pinches the bridge of his nose, smiling tiredly. "What's your name, kid?" The boy says, almost proudly, "Jack." "... Um, well. Jack. I'm Sam. It's good to meet you. I think you deserve something nice for not thinking I'm a total weirdo, so... if you wanna carry a bag to the truck for me, I've got some cookies and dollars to offer you?" It feels kind of demeaning in a way, like he's giving the poor kid some basic task to 'earn' what Sam'll give him. But Jack just nods and walks along side him. "Thanks, Sam," Jack says. He says Sam's name like he's testing out the weight of it, forming it carefully in his mouth. Despite Jack's appearance, he radiates something... well, something. It's warmer than the weather. "Where are you from, Jack?" Sam asks, tilting his chin forward to look down. His voice is softer, more careful. "From everywhere," Jack says, and looks over at Sam. "I honestly don't know. I've just always been... like this." "... Homeless?" Sam offers. Jack cocks his head to the side, gazing ahead of them. "Homeless. Yes." It's not a long walk, so it's not like there's much more to talk about before they reach the old truck. They load up the groceries, and Sam provides one box of cookies (in this case, the box that is less crushed from falling on the asphalt). It feels like a meager kind of offering, all things considered. "Here — I mean, if you like sweets. I bought way too many, so... Um. And — " "I like cookies," Jack says as a matter-of-factly. "Thank you, Sam." Doesn't feel good enough, though. Sam gnaws his lip and feels... some sort of way about all this. Like he's doing something the wrong way, here. Leia and Lilly have ruined him for life. "Where are you heading, anyway? Do you live in town? I've never seen you here before." Jack's already got the box of cookies wrenched open, and he's eating them too fast, a lot like how Sam used to eat his rations when he lived in a cage, in the dark. Sam's already predicting that he's gonna get sick, and he can't really hide the wince as the crumbs start to collect on Jack's old jacket. Jack looks like he's unsure how to answer, not for the first time. "I'm just moving around. I have nowhere to be, as long as it's — " He struggles for the right word. "Safe." "Safe," Sam says. Jack nods with a mouthful. "Shafe," he says. Sams hands twitch nervously at the thought of sending the boy away with his 'rewards'. Whatever the hell cookies constitute as, anyway. It's not safe out there, that's for sure. It's gonna be below freezing for a while in Lebanon, and — He sighs softly. No... No, it's not smart. Not smart to being a stray into a house full of supernatural lore books, weapons, monster children. He would freak out. He'd panic and he'd know where they live, and he could tell anyone with an ear open about where a guy named Sam lives with his odd little family. But... "You want me to drive you somewhere? I mean, there should be a homeless shelter around here somewhere, if you need somewhere a little less... this." He gestures to the world around them, swathed in a fine layer of snow. Jack seems mildly uncertain, a crooked line of uncertainty to his lips. Sam recognizes maybe he looks like he's one-half a serial killer in his plaid, with his weird flinching and nervousness. "You don't have to, but... I don't want you to freeze out here." After a moment, Jack does seem to relent; nobody likes to be cold, and Sam could tell even if he was handling it well, it was not a pleasant experience he wants to endure any longer than he has to. So he nods at last, and Sam nods to the passenger seat. "Climb aboard, then. I think I remember the street and everything; you'll be warm in no time. And, uh. We can get you something better than cookies, actually." "I don't know what can be better than cookies," Jack replies, sliding into the passenger seat, "But I'm willing to consider it." The truck stutters to life, and Sam makes a beeline for the nearest Taco Bell there is. Cheap, but you get a hell of a lot with a little; he and Dean were no stranger to that particular drive-thru back in the day, when Dean was too tired to eat expired food and Sam was too tired to go buy himself a decent salad and sandwich. The Helping Hands Homeless Shelter is a good distance, so Sam learns a few things in-between Jack scarfing down burritos and soft tacos: he's fourteen or fifteen (he thinks?; Sam's mortified by the thought of him being on his own all this time), his mother died when he was born, he's not sure where his father is, and he's always been moving. No grandparents, no uncles or aunts, nobody that he's familiar with. Once the last wrapper is thrown on the floorboard as designated, though, Jack looks uneasy. "... Is this 'a trade'?" Sam glances over, brow furrowed. "A what?" "A trade," Jack reaffirms, and his eyes — glance down, towards Sam's crotch. Sam feels like he's going to puke, his stomach twisting and heart lurching. He almost slams on the brakes then and there, in the middle of the street, but he manages to avoid doing anything so fucking stupid as to scare the kid. Sam and Dean have both had their fair share of close calls growing up — Sam's had to scream at peeping toms through hotel windows, or weird men at gas stations who keep sizing them up while they read magazines, or — But. But they both had rules, and Dean always had an extra eye out on him. The thought of — the implication of it, it makes his blood boil, rushing in his ears. He thinks of Lilly and Leia and — Sam's been quiet too long. So Jack speaks up again. "It's alright. I don't do anything if they don't ask first. If they don't have something to give me," Jack says, confidently, and Sam wants to scream. "No," Sam manages, voice tight. "No, that's not okay. Anyone who asks something like that, they're monsters, do you understand me? They're evil, and you shouldn't trust them. Not for a second." Jack leans back more comfortably in his seat, confused — but glad. Sam's hands are itching for a blade and someone to hunt. A monster in a ring to rip into. He breathes out instead and looks at the road. It doesn't take long before Jack finds himself tired of the quiet, though, and his gaze moves to Sam's wrists, instead. His hands. The sliver of arm that peaks out under his sleeve. "What happened to your hands?" he asks, innocently. Concerned. Sam's shoulders sag, like the kid has gone and popped that balloon full of rage. "... Monsters hurt me, too," he says weakly, because he figures the kid deserves the truth. "A different kind of monster, but monsters all the same." Jack reaches over, and Sam startles at the hand cupping over his damaged knuckles. "I'm sorry," Jack says. "About the monsters." Sam kind of wants to cry, honestly. "Me, too." He was supposed to get a Christmas dinner, in and out of the store, nothing more to it. He was supposed to just give the kid some money and maybe a snack. He's supposed to just drop him off somewhere a little warmer and safer. (Leia looked at him like a hero, once, like he was going to swoop in and save her; Jack isn't looking at him like that, though; he's just a guy giving him a ride and cookies). Sam's phone rings. He doesn't need to look to know it'll say DEAN in white letters on the screen. Just a minute 'til they get to the shelter. (You're not a hero, you barely managed to protect your girls, he reminds himself.) "Sam?" Jack asks. Ring, ring. Ring, ring. (But Leia looks at him like he’s a superhero. A shaking, high, rabid superhero, hopped up on demon blood, with hands so tense and locked, they look like claws in the darkness. And beside her — a crying boy, a few years younger than her. There’s a burn on his leg, a shake of his shoulders. Worst of all, there’s skin sloughed off around him, and it’s only then that Sam realizes the boy looks different than he had an hour before. A shifter? A small, scared shifter. Like Glenda had been.) He pulls over on the side of the road. Reaches into his jacket pocket, retrieves the phone with a shaking hand. When he answers Dean and hears his brother asking nervously what's taking him so long, he can't help but look at Jack. Jack, who is looking at him with an uneasy amount of trust. How he has it, Sam's not fucking sure, but he feels like he has to do this. (He thinks of two little girls, holding hands as they watch Christmas cartoons.) "I — I'm bringing someone back with me," he manages. "His name is Jack, and he — needs a place to stay, for a little while." He does a u-turn, driving toward the bunker as snow begins to fall once again, soft, delicate. Jack looked awed, still looks awed. He looks at Sam like this was destiny. Fate. Something. "I thought so." "... You thought what?" Jack smiles slowly with that warm, gap-toothed smile. "That something about you, it felt like an angel."

#spn #supernatural #spn fanfiction #sam winchester #jack kline #dean winchester #cw child abuse mention #cw csa mention #cw ptsd descriptions #how the wild things start #myspnfanfic

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vitreousobsidian · 4 years

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How I’d fix the SPN finale (from a fan with 0 writing knowledge):

Cut out the 20th episode and make 15.19 longer

Before Jack leaves have Dean ask for Cas back. They reuinite

Sam runs back to Eileen and they have a sweet reunion.

Montage of Sam & Eileen quitting the life, getting married, having a family, etc. Basically what the finale did but make it ACTUALLY happy. (I mean, what’s this about Sam not being able to so much as touch the Impala’s wheel without having a breakdown years after Dean’s death??) He has the domestic dream he always wanted.

Meanwhile we get shots of Cas and Dean continuing to hunt and drive around in the Impala. No more ‘world ending’ enemies looming over their head. Just the two of them out on the road, werewolf here, ghost there. Just some good old fashion hunting, the kind of stuff Dean loves.

Ideally Dean and Cas are explicitly shown to be together but even under the assumption that the can’t have an overtly Bi Dean (which I mean... wtf it’s 2020 why not?) This could still work? And would be ambiguous enough to get past network restrictions? I’m just saying if the writers really wanted a queer couple in the show they would’ve found a way of doing it

Maybe add a few scenes of them visiting some side characters (ie Wayward Sisters) to tie in the whole ‘found family’ theme the show’s been so heavy handed with over the last 15 years instead of it just boiling down to ‘found family’s great but like, they’re not ACTUALLY family like Sam and Dean are so they’re not as important’

I get the writers didn’t want to have ‘any loose threads’ and wanted to keep as much ambiguity out of it as possible but that doesn’t make for a satisfying ending! Give us SOME ambiguity, let us imagine that these characters live out happy lives for years after the show’s end. Them being happy in Heaven is not the same thing

The dog can stay, he’s great.

My issues with the ACTUAL spn finale:

Couldn’t they just have invited people to Dean’s funeral? Like.... Did it really have to look SO lonely? Again for a show so bent on hammering home the theme of found family shouldn’t Dean’s funeral have had a bunch of people? Wayward sisters, alt. bobby, alt. charlie, garth, Jack....... Anyone? Nah it’s just Sam and the dog, glad to see that after years of 'finding family’ no one cares about Dean’s death except Sam and a dog he’s known for like a week and a half

Also you know what’s fucked up? Dean was by far the most affected out of all the characters upon finding out how much control Chuck had over everything he did. Like... It really fucked him up. So ok, God’s defeated and Dean finally has some autonomy. He can breathe easy, he’s won, he’s his own man and this time he’s sure of it. Wait, what’s that? He dies literally a WEEK LATER? Excuse me? You’re telling me all that trauma and existential crisis and he got a single week as a reward for coming out on top?

Also that whole Cas induced ‘i’m not a killer’ revelation kinda feels less impactful knowing it only lasts a few days and then he dies (admittedly this one’s just a bit nit-picky but I mean...)

Also idk but it just feels kinda wrong for Dean- a character who’s been repeatedly shown to have 0 regard for his own life and seems hell bent on sacrificing himself especially the last few seasons- to just die like that? I mean, if anything It seemed like he’d have to learn to value his own life as part of his greater story arc (you can kinda see echoes of it all the way back from S1). I guess this kinda ties in to the last point with the added weight that he only gets killed off once he accepts that he’s good, full of love and deserves to live. Idk especially with how many times Sam’s had to talk him off of ledges these past seasons it just feels kinda ghoulish to me.

To show us the Harvelle Roadhouse in heaven but make 0 reference to my girls Ellen and Jo is an actual crime and I will sue

Also why the hell was the vamp chick from S1 here? Like... what? I mean of all side characters to include (especially the one-off s1 background characters) why her? Honestly if you’d told me someone from S1 was getting brought back I’d’ve guessed Cassie but even then I don’t think the series finale is the right place to be like ‘hey remember THIS character?’ especially not when major characters like Cas get ZERO screen time

You know the worst part? It would’ve been so easy to make the ending good? Or at the very least ok? Like, with just 3 changes: [1] It’s made clear that Sam ends up with Eileen (I’m still not clear if that was her or some rando in the montage) [2] If they’d directed Jared in a way that presented Sam as happy or at the very least nostalgic instead of just horrible scarred for the rest of his life (I’m still so angry at that last Impala scene wtf) [3] If they’d just snuck Cas in to a single scene with Dean in heaven, even if it was hug I don’t think I’m asking for that much

Also I find it funny that the entirety of Sam’s life occurs over the span of a single drive. So what, a 20 minute walk and then Dean II shows up in heaven? They sit down for a burger and guess what? It’s Dean II’s kids! I just find it funny that lifetimes pass so quickly in heaven time, meaning that they’re just gonna be constantly flooded with new people all the time and never get anything done cause ‘Dad, I’d like you to meet your great great great great great-’

Maybe spend more than $0.03 on the aging prosthetics

Also didn’t Sam’s death feel kinda... off? I mean I’m gonna have to reiterate the whole lonely ending thing is weird in a show all about found family. Anyways the entire interaction between Sam and Dean II felt odd. Sam’s there, dying, by himself until Dean II walks in and, completely unprompted and without a trace of emotion, tells his dad that he can go ahead and die now. Couldn’t they have edited that scene so that it starts with Dean II already at his bedside? And I mean 0 disrespect to actor for Dean II (for all we know it could’ve been directed/written this way) but couldn’t he have been a bit more choked up about his dad dying? Like... Even a little?

#supernatural #15.20 #supernatural finale #spn #God it could've been great #Idk I've known spn was a pretty bad show for a while now #But it's like that one train wreck of a friend you know?#You still love them deeply and can't help but keep hoping for more and then getting brutally disappointed #Every time #But hey I guess this was the last great disappointment huh?#Quick show of hands whats the over-under on us getting new episodes 4 years from now a-la sherlock?#Asking for a friend

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eddielala · 4 years

Text

Okay, I won’t sleep.

Here’s my goddamn summary and explanation of the meta. Because I have to say it.

1. They cut the ‘I love you’ scene . You know why? It was a hint that this episode won’t be about them.

2. We don’t know how long Dean was in the bunker and cried. We do know he didn’t pick up the phone the first time Sam called.

3. Dean arrives with the Impala. You can see he’s broken. And I really mean fucking goddamn broken. Jensen acted it very well and in character. He looks to the ground, he tries not to cry, his eyes flutter. He doesn’t realize what Jack and Sam are saying, you literally can see him thinking. Cas told him he loves him and died, that’s not easy to handle. Not for Dean, who’s still unsure about his sexuality.

4. “He saved me”. Well, he didn’t say ‘he loves me’. But ‘he saved me’ is the exact same thing for Dean, because he’s the man who doesn’t deserve to be saved. Saving him was Cas’ love confession and with telling Sam and Jack about it, he said ‘he loves me’. And come on, Dean talking about feelings would be out of character. We see a drunk Dean sleeping between beer bottles, that’s enough.

5. The dog is Cas. Not in person, but it’s kind of an incarnation. The angel with the puppy eyes, loyal, brave. Dean sees Cas in it and that’s the reason he falls in love with ‘Miracle’. He dies because of god and the moment of joy is over. Btw in the end you can see the dog again. Sooo, maybe Cas is on his way?

6. Adam is dead. It was only Michael and Adams body. And after Michael is killed Adam is gone forever. Maybe it’s a message because the fans always made fun that the writers and the boys forgot their brother. Now he’s gone.

7. The Cas call scene. You can see the desperate in Deans eyes. I already saw some posts about it and they were on point. The moment of hope in Deans eyes when he hears Cas’ voice, he jumps off and runs upstairs. That’s love btw. He wants so bad that it’s Cas, even he knows it’s nearly impossible.

8. Lucifers comeback. Maybe fan service? Mark was a brillant Lucifer. And we have the situation of the archenemies again: Lucifer and Michael, both with daddy issues. One last fight. And, surprise, Luci dies. The “good” one wins. Luci is now in the empty again... isn’t he? But I think his death is permanently. They wanted to solve the problem with the whole ‘in SPN nobody stays dead’ thing. But dunno, I didn’t look up the cast for next week’s episode.

9. The reaper. Well, I was in shock when she showed up. I really thought it’s Cas in a female vessel but it was just a reaper. Luci kills her, here’s new death. Well, they needed someone to open up the goddamn book. Wasn’t very exciting. And she was dead as fast as she was alive. I think the writers didn’t know how to open up the book otherwise.

10. The plan. What a rush. And how could god not know it? He’s omniscient? Hm... well, I think the most important scene was the one when Dean asks god to bring Cas back. The anger in his eyes, mixed with desperation. He would kill his brother, but Cas has to live. That’s character development, you can’t tell me otherwise. And that’s also plot development.

11. Michael’s death. Kill off and gone. Well, I think they had to get rid of him. But he died through the hands of his loved father. Could be a hint that daddy issues have to be solved and shows that Chuck is a goddamn son of a bitch.

12. Jack. Oh, he’s an adult now! I think it was the best what could happen to our baby. He always felt not strong enough and now he’s god. That’s a promotion! It was a good decision: Jack was not controlled by his feelings - sure he had bad days, but his wisdom was greater than god’s actually. The reason is that he’s half an angel. And he’s half an human. God made the angels the image and likeness of himself but he wasn’t satisfied by the result. So he created humanity the same way. Jack is a combination out of god’s objective, destructive side and god’s loving, emotional side. And both sides were always in balance, and that’s the reason he could be a energy - how did they call it - sucking hole without getting destroyed by gods and Amaras power. Because these powers need balance and Jack could give it to them.

13. God. God’s an asshole. And we know he represents the writers of Supernatural. When Chuck beats the shit out of Dean and Sam it’s actually a message: The writers harmed them so many times, the whole series is a fucking drama. It represents how they dealt with them, they send them to hell and back so many times. They tortured them, broke their hearts. That’s the last time the writers harm them so much. Because they - Chuck - looses his powers. Dean and Sam take over the situation. Dean and Sam represented and influenced by Jensen and Jared. And by the fans. The writers aren’t able to change them anymore. They are what we want them to be. Because they don’t have the power anymore.

14. The book. We see the white pages of the book. God can’t see what’s written there. The pages are blank. This means the writers are finished. They don’t have something to say anymore. The story got told and there’s nothing what follows. The pages are white and ready for stories from other people. Fanfics, fanarts, and so on. Chuck, the writers, tell us there’s nothing left to say. It’s over.

15. Dean doesn’t kill god. Chuck provokes Dean to kill him and Dean says to him, that’s not who he is. You remember Cas said it this to him, right. It’s not a love confession but something like this. He finally accepts who he is and that he has feelings and not only a raised killing machine. He accepts himself. Maybe that’s a good sign for the next episode.

16. Jack disappears. I know he’s family but for real: he found his happiness being a god. He will change the world. I already said why he’s perfect for this job. And his disappearance is... well, gives me a comfortable feeling. He’s in peace and he found his mission of life. And you can’t tell me he didn’t bring back Eileen and the others. We don’t know if he can bring back Cas out of the empty. But I think he would bring Cas back if he could. Maybe he couldn’t and the story gets told in the last episode. However, Jack did a great job.

17. The ending. Yeah, what did we expect? They already told us with the season’s posters that it’s about Sam and Dean. And only them. And I can understand why Dean seems to be happy there. They literally saved the goddamn world again. But I don’t think it’s only this. They are free now. That means they can become what they want - what the fans want because the writers lost their power. And maybe that’s a hint on Destiel being confirmed by Dean in the next episode. And they’re driving with the Impala but we don’t know where they will go. Hmm... and maybe Dean smiled because he had hope again? Hope to save his... boyfriend?! Don’t know, but he’s able to do it now.

So, maybe I’m too romantic but that’s what I think. I think we see Cas again and that they will be together. I don’t know and I don’t think we will get a love confession from Dean (I know, sad. I thought we get it). But I think there’s hope. Maybe - that’s only a theory - they don’t want to make it completely canon because they argue that the end should offer enough possibilities for the fans to write and draw and so on. I would be pissed if that’s the argument, I mean queerbaiting is real but we don’t know.

I don’t find an answer in the confusing statements of the actors and the crew. Misha said he’s not in this episodes, but he was on set. It’s canon, but Dean doesn’t reciprocate? What the hell? It’s a mess and they have to clean it up for the fans. They said it won’t be a ‘Game of Thrones’ ending and hell yes, I don’t want that. It would suck. Also they said the ending would make 30% of the fans happy - maybe that’s us. We’ll see.

Edit: Btw I wrote it before, I think it’s true that Cas gets more attention in the last episode because of the fact it’s the series finale. Cas wasn’t just part of the season and we know it was the season finale, he’s part of the whole series for years. So why not bring him back for the series finale?

#dean winchester #deancas #destiel #spn #supernatural #castiel #dean x castiel #spn spoilers

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smol-and-grumpy · 4 years

Text

Something Just Like This - CH30

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean Winchester, mobster boss. He’s a little cocky, a lot ruthless and more often than not, short tempered. But he’s also, Dean Winchester, a war veteran and hero who suffers under a shit ton of PTS. He met her in a bar and thinks it’s fate that brought her to him. Little does he know why she’s really here.

Warnings: Fluff, angst, violence, gore

WC: 3974

A/N: Hi, I wanna thank you all for staying with me and this story. I have received a rather not very nice comment about this. As in their opinion, I stretched it out pointlessly and there’s too much sex, and that I should please go back and edit out the unnecessary parts. I just don’t know what happens to don’t like, don’t read. But yeah, can’t lie that it was kind of a discourage. Nonetheless, I’m sticking to my story, because it helped me keep myself sane in quarantine. So here you go. Hope you enjoy this chapter.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Y/N’s awake before him, Cuddles is already gone but Bubbles’ still lying next to her. She takes the little cat and walks out, closing the door behind her. She feeds Cuddles, sits down with Bubbles to see if the little baby would eat and the cat does, which is a relief, really. While she waits to see if Bubbles will throw up again, she turns on the coffee maker. The noise makes the three of them jump.

When she sees that Bubbles can hold her food in, she makes coffee, takes the mugs into the bedroom and climbs to bed with Dean, she places the mug on her bedside table and begins to nudge at his face, rubs her nose along his scruff. It’s scratchy but soft, just the way she likes it. She then kisses his jaw, the corner of his lips, his cheek, his nose.

“It’s too early,” Dean mumbles, his eyes are still closed.

“It’s not.”

“Ah, it’s not because you say it’s not.” He turns and buries his face into his pillow.

“Exactly,” She kisses along the skin that is visible, his ear, the nape of his neck. “And I made you coffee.”

Dean tilts his head up, opens up his one eye, it’s a little red rimmed from sleep. “What did you do?”

“What?”

“Or what do you want?”

“I’m offended. Just because I made you coffee doesn’t mean that I did something stupid or want something?”

“Yeah, it does.” Dean chuckles before reaching his hand out to grab her and pull her to him. “What is it?”

It’s her turn to bury her face into the pillow and she mumbles. “I have to go meet my cousin today.”

“You have a cousin?”

Well, how can she say that she didn’t know about it until last night either?

“Yeah, my aunt makes me go meet him. He came over from England and is in town for a short while.” She lies, hopes Dean buys it.

“When are you meeting him?” He kisses the nape of her neck, his scruff scratches at her skin. She welcomes the burn.

“This afternoon in a café. Just thought you should know so as not to be mad at me again.”

Dean chuckles and manhandles her around so she’s lying on top of him. “Baby, I’m never mad at you.”

“Annoyed.”

“Yeah, I’ve been annoyed.” And then he pauses before he adds, “This afternoon, huh? I don’t have anything scheduled. Why don’t I come with you?”

She honestly doesn’t know what to say to that. How can she say that she doesn’t want him around? That Ketch could expose her? She can’t even text Ketch to blow it off because she foolishly deleted his number and blocked him too.

“Yeah, sure.” She says instead, doesn’t know why but the thought of having Dean around will probably make her feel better? It’ll at least keep her from spilling Ketch everything she knows and make it worse.

Dean and her are sitting at the table, decided to go there before for lunch and now they’re having coffee and waiting for Ketch.

She’s glad Dean agreed to go eat there beforehand but she has never seen Ketch and it would really be embarrassing if she wouldn’t even recognize her own ‘cousin’.

Linda did give her info about him though, it was after they talked last time that she sent Y/N a brief profile.

“There you are!”

She looks up at the man who’s smiling brightly at her. He wears a suit, complete with tie and all, dark grey, white shirt, black tie. There’s an expensive watch on his wrist and a ring on his pinky which, she thinks, is weird but to each their own.

“Hi,” She says, stands up and there’s a short confusion of how she should greet him but he takes the lead, kisses her cheeks and pulls her in for a hug.

One that doesn’t seem to end and she hates that. Dean’s clearing his throat audibly and Ketch releases her with a grin that signals trouble.

This is going great.

“Ketch, this is Dean—”

“—Winchester, I know,” Ketch extends a hand and adds, “I saw your face in the newspaper a couple of days ago.”

Ah. What a liar.

Dean takes Ketch’s hand and there’s a small smile on Dean’s face but she knows that expression too well. It says something like he doesn’t know where to categorize Ketch yet. Dean wants to play nice but he can sense that’s something off about that guy. She can’t blame Dean, she’s weirded out herself.

They sit down and Ketch orders a coffee before he starts to talk, and my god, that man can talk.

Occasionally Dean would look at her, his eyes pleading for her to end this madness.

“What are you doing for a living?” Dean asks Ketch and she doesn’t know if it’s out of genuine curiosity or if it’s a way for Dean to show that he’s polite.

“I used to work for the MI6.” Ketch says matter of factly, like it’s no fucking big deal. “But now I’m a solicitor. Or as you Americans say, lawyer.”

Dean nods. If the mention of the MI6 did throw him off, he doesn’t show it. “And what are you doing in America?”

“Oh, you know, visiting my relatives,” Ketch nods at Y/N, “And I’m looking for a job. Looking to stay, actually.”

“Your mom will be heartbroken.” She mumbles. How fucking dare he uses the meeting to try to get in while Y/N told Linda that she’s got this.

“Yeah, but I’m not the first one who breaks her heart, am I?” Ketch looks at her, raising an eyebrow. It’s a dig at Linda’s and their relationship that has become straining, she knows.

“Anyway,” Ketch goes on, “I was wondering since you’re here, Dean, maybe you know of any openings in your organization?”

So this is what it was about, isn’t it? He really does try to get in? Will probably try to destroy her life and Dean’s before she can finish her mission? Not on her fucking watch. She’s fuming on the inside.

Dean sets his coffee down, one of his hands goes under the table, rubs at her thigh, as if he knows her distress. “I wouldn’t know about it. Ms MacLeod is my Head of HR. She’d know. Maybe you could contact her.”

Ketch looks at Dean, perplexed. As if he doesn’t get rejected often.

“I thought maybe, you know, we’re family.” Ketch adds.

“Oh, stop that bullshit Ketch, we are not! I barely know you and then you come here and want to meet me just because you want a job?” She’s outraged, feels stupid because she made Dean come here and there’s someone sitting across from her that could blow off her cover within a blink of an eye!

“Babe, it’s okay.” Dean squeezes her thigh.

“It’s not, Dean! It’s not okay. I didn’t know he wanted to ask for a job. I’m— Let’s go.” She stands up, leaving Dean to catch up to her. “And Ketch, if you want a job, get one yourself.”

Dean fishes out a bill from his pants and leaves it on the table. Y/N’s already walking out.

“I hate my family.” She breathes out as she leans her head against the car door, feels hot and uncomfortable all of a sudden, “I’m sorry, I didn’t know. I don’t want you to think that I’m using you for my family's gain.”

“Baby, really, it’s okay.” Dean tries to calm her down, his hand finds her thigh, stroking it up and down.

“I feel so foolish.”

“You are not. You’re being nice and sometimes, people tend to take advantage of that. I’m used to it, actually.”

“I don’t want my family taking advantage of you.”

Dean chuckles, “I think I can handle it fine myself, you really don’t have to worry about that.”

Her bra stabs at her sides, that damn thing, seriously. Everything feels too restrictive right now.

Y/N unhooks her bra on the back, slips out of the straps and pulls it out through the arm of her shirt. She feels so much better now.

Dean’s forehead creases when he sees it. “What did you do?”

She shrugs.

“How is that even possible?”

She laughs, “You’ve never seen someone do it before? You’re shitting me.”

“Well, sweetheart, usually I take them off or the woman does it, you know, more gracefully.”

“Yeah yeah, I’m not graceful, I get it. Bras are overrated anyway.” She bunches it up and throws it to the floor.

Dean has to laugh, “Yeah, they are. Your tits shouldn’t be covered by anything. Except maybe my hands.”

He says it in that straight face of his that makes her face flare up.

Y/N’s taking a bath to relax from Ketch and Dean has brought her a glass of wine, almost changed his mind on going out for that meeting when he saw her there, with foam on her head and a smile decorating her pink cheeks. Felt a strong urge to jump right in too, but he’s really got to go, Cas would give him hell if he would show up too late and that would definitely happen if he would stay next to the tub for too long.

So he steals a kiss before he tells her that he’ll see her later. And it’s hard. Hard to walk out from a wet and naked girl in his tub. He does it nonetheless, someone has got to be the reasonable one around here and today’s his turn.

He walks out, and takes his keys when he hears the doorbell.

They never have someone ringing the doorbell. At least not when they didn’t order anything and he knows he didn’t but maybe she ordered something before taking a bath and forgot to tell him.

Dean opens to Ketch.

“Hi, uh, I just wanna come and apologize for making a fool out of myself. Is Y/N here?” The man looks behind Dean, then and really, Dean doesn’t know what it is but something about Ketch irks him very much.

Against his better judgment, Dean opens the door wider, letting Ketch step in. He is family after all, right? He lets Ketch follow him inside. “Yeah, she’s still taking a ba—”

The blow to the back of his head knocks Dean out of balance and to the side, his body hitting the wall close to the entrance. He did not see that coming.

Dean turns around, his vision is blurry from the blow. Before he can even react, Ketch’s right fist connects with Dean's face. Once, twice, three times, sending him on his side, his body hits the floor with a dull heavy thud.

Yep, definitely didn’t see it coming.

He tries to get up, but there’s a blow in his stomach, feet kicking at his ribs, it punches the air out of his lungs.

“You fucking son of a bitch!” Dean growls, and tuns on his stomach, kneels up a little. He sees splatters of blood on the floor. There’s another kick, right into his middle, making him feel nauseous.

Y/N hears the bell, and thinks it’s weird because she didn’t order anything and she doubts that Dean did, knowing that he’ll be out until late at night.

With a weird feeling in her guts, she gets out of the bath, wraps a towel around her, and secures it with a knot.

She tiptoes out of the bathroom and when she reaches the bedroom, she hears a thud of something heavy hitting a wall.

There’s noises like someone’s grunting before there’s another thud and this time, she can feel the vibration of the flooring beneath her bare feet.

Instinctively, she runs to the closet, retrieves a gun from the cabinet, has to punch in the code twice because her hands are shaking.

Y/N breathes relief when it opens and she quickly grabs the gun Dean has bought for her. Probably not really bought it, but what does it matter now.

Clicking off the safety, she draws it, walks slowly to the bedroom door that’s standing ajar. Dean never closes it when he knows that she’ll be alone. Knowing that she likes it when the cats can come in and bother her.

There she sees it, Dean’s on the floor on his knees, his one arm braced on the floor while he holds his stomach with his other hand. His face is bloody and in pain, there’s a cut above his left eyebrow. Dark red blood splatters the floor.

Standing above Dean, is Ketch. He has a crooked grin on his face.

“You fucking son of a bitch!” Dean growls and Ketch only laughs, kicks Dean some more.

She tries to keep calm, tries to breath. That fucking son of a bitch, for real!

Taking one last deep breath, she steps out but holds her gun steady, points it towards Ketch.

“You tracked our car.” She says calmly. She’s not dumb, can put two and two together. But also because she doesn’t have any other explanation on how Ketch could know where she lives. Not even Linda knows it because they don’t track phones of undercover agents.

“Aw, Y/N no guns please, I didn’t use mine.” Ketch lifts his jacket, showing her that his gun is still in his holster. “Well, that’s a lie, I did for the first blow but I didn’t shoot. I need him alive, you understand, don’t you?” Ketch sounds so fucking arrogant and it makes her blood boil.

Dean’s wincing on the floor between them. And it hurts her, it physically hurts her to see him hurt.

“Shut up!” She hisses, has tears in her eyes. There’s so much going on in her mind, she doesn’t know what’s right and what’s wrong anymore. All she knows is that she wants Ketch to stop hurting Dean.

“Lower your gun, darling.” Ketch is still looking at her with a shiteating grin on his face. “You wouldn’t shoot me. You don’t have it in you, am I right?. How would you explain to my mo—”

The bullet goes right through the crease between his eyebrows.

She doesn’t know why she pulled the trigger. Doesn’t know why she killed Ketch. Fact is that she didn’t want to hear him say more, fact is, that he invaded her life. Fact is, that he hurt Dean and by doing it, he — by proxy — hurt her too. And there’s no way out of it. Ketch already knows too much. If she doesn’t do it, Dean will and she has to answer too many questions that Dean will be throwing at her. Questions she doesn’t even have answers to herself. She doesn’t want to face them yet. Not when she still has time left that she could actually enjoy with him.

She killed a man.

The realization hit her like a freight train.

Not only a man. A special agent. A Fed.

One of her own.

Linda will never forgive her.

The Bureau will never forgive her.

She’s no better than Dean. She’s now in this as much as he is. This life has consumed her, and there’s no way of getting out. She isn’t even sure now if she even wants to get out at all.

Letting herself sink down to the floor, she leans the side of her face against the door frame and starts to cry. Her hand slowly releases her gun.

Her vision is blurry and she closes her eyes for a brief moment, thinking about all the consequences of her action. When she opens her eyes again, Dean’s right in front of her. He’s in pain, she can see that but nonetheless he crawled over the floor to be close to her.

His hands cradle her face as he places a kiss on her forehead, thumbs brushing at the tears that streamed down her cheeks.

“You okay?” He asks her, and there’s a split in his lips and blood at the corner of his mouth.

He’s hurt more than she is but he still asks her if she’s okay.

She does not deserve that.

Unable to answer, she sits still and that prompts Dean to get closer, he sits up, grunting loudly as he does. And then he holds her face firm in his hands, lays his forehead on hers. Their noses touch.

“Baby, I need to know if you’re okay.”

She nods but cries some more.

He kisses her lips and she kisses him back, pours every sorry she can not say into the kiss.

Dean then pulls her towards his chest, lets her cry into it. “I guess I have to call for a clean up, huh?”

Y/N nods again and then out of the corner of her eyes, she sees the two cats slowly coming out from under the sofa. They walk towards Dean and her. She smiles and Dean lets go off her, grunting when he adjusts himself. He takes Bubbles, places the cat on her lap while he holds Cuddles.

It dawns on her then, after she strokes the cats for a while that she didn’t ask if he’s okay.

He’s been asking her twice and she wasn’t even the one who took the beating!

“Are you okay?” She finally asks and Dean breathes out, pulls the corner of his lips up to a little smile.

“Never been better.”

“Liar.” She mutters, then adds, “I need to check if anything’s broken.” Sitting up straight, she lowers Bubbles back on the floor but the cat stays close, watches her as she cradles Dean’s face.

“Baby,” Dean’s holding his breath when she skims one of her hands over his ribs, flinches as she touches him, “I can’t believe I’m saying this myself, but I’d rather you don’t touch me right now.”

She purses her lips. “But a kiss is okay?”

“That’s always okay.” He smiles a weak smile.

Y/N helps Dean after, throws his hand over her shoulder and walks him over to the couch before she calls for Sergei.

“I’m gonna call Cas,” He grunts some more as he settles into the couch.

She walks over to the door and leaves it open for when Sergei comes up.

Turning around, she avoids looking at the dead body of Ketch on the floor.

“Do you want anyone to know about your cousin?”

She frowns at first before it dawns on her that he’s talking about Ketch. Hopes that he didn’t see her hesitation, “No.” She then says, “No, I don’t.”

Because it’s the truth. If possible, she’d like to avoid anyone ever finding out.

“Okay.” Dean nods.

There’s a knock at the door and she leads Sergei into the apartment. The man doesn’t even bat an eye when he sees a dead body on the floor. She guesses that he’s not paid to ask questions.

She leaves Sergei and Dean in the living room, disappears into the bedroom and thinks about calling Linda.

Y/N doesn’t call though. Maybe, she thinks, maybe it’s better when she acts like she doesn’t know anything at all.

Sergei helps Dean into bed and Y/N props up the pillows before undressing him. He grunts out in pain as she makes him sit up a little to get his shirt off his shoulders. He’s already half asleep by the time she pulls off his socks.

She’s been given two different kinds of painkillers by Sergei and he tells her exactly when Dean should take which pills over the next three days. Thankfully nothing’s broken.

Cas arrives with a couple of men later and they immediately start with the clean up. Nobody said a word. It’s like everyone knows what they're doing and she has the feeling that it’s not the first time that they’re doing this.

Y/N takes the cats and closes the room to their bedroom. The workers are being loud but Dean’s even snoring a little by now, unfazed of what’s going on around him.

The cats immediately jump onto the bed, lay themselves around Dean and she couldn’t not take a picture of them together like this even if Dean’s face is bruised.

There’s a band aid that holds his skin together above his eyebrow instead of stitches, the bruise on his cheek already starts to turn green. His lips are swollen and it hurts her to see him like this. It physically hurts her heart.

She wonders how long it’ll take Linda to piece two and two together on Ketch’s whereabouts. How long it’ll be for Linda to knock down the door and arrest her and Dean. Wonders if Linda even knows that Ketch was trying to forgo her commands and contact Y/N directly just because he wants to play a fucking hero. Because honestly, she can’t imagine that the thing Ketch pulled off was in Linda’s interest. Not when Y/N’s so close to the finish line.

After about two hours, there’s a knock on the bedroom door. She opens up to Cas and wave of something that smells like bleach hit her. It seems like they were trying to make it better by spraying some flower scents around the living room, which actually might have made it even worse. She’s going to have to open the windows for hours to get the smell out.

“We’re done.” Cas says, and steals a glimpse of Dean in bed. “How is he?”

“Sleeping.” She answers.

“That’s good. He should sleep. The meeting today went well. Just tell him that? Okay?”

She smiles, “I will.”

“If there’s anything, you know…”

“I know. Thank you, Cas.”

“Anytime.”

She leaves the door open, but goes back to bed, picks her pencil and her notebook back up. She has to turn on the bedside lamp because it’s getting dark outside, the room lights up in a warm soft glow.

It’s an hour later when Dean opens his eyes. He squints at her.

“Is this heaven? Am I in heaven?” He mumbles, his lips purse into a smile.

Y/N replicates his smile, “No, sorry, you’re still stuck with me.”

He starts to laugh but then he flinches in pain. “Baby, no jokes, okay? My body can’t take it.”

“Shit, yeah,” She’s crawling over to his side on all fours. “‘M sorry.”

“Come on,” He says, pats the side of his bed and she goes in, lays her head on his arm. “How are you feeling?”

She chuckles. That’s so typical Dean. He’s the one who’s hurt but he asks her how she’s feeling. She does not deserve him. “Tired. How are you feeling?”

“Like I’ve been beaten.”

She tilts her head, kisses him on his good cheek. “I’m sorry about what happened. I didn’t know that he would come and hurt you.”

“That’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

She wants to tell him that it is.

Dean didn’t say more though, didn’t ask her why Ketch holds a grudge against Dean. Why she shot him. Because that’s also Dean. He doesn’t ask questions to answer that he doesn’t need to know. Answer that won’t change his decision. Answers that aren’t relevant on how he lives his life.

She can also guess that he might know. Ketch mentioned the MI6. Dean’s no fucking idiot.

“Can I ask you something?” He says after a while and her heart picks up pace.

That’s it, she thinks. Finally he’s going to ask her and she’s going to tell him the truth and everything will be over.

“Anything.” She says, because it’s true. At this point it’s all or nothing. She doesn’t want to lie to him any more.

“Why are the cats in our bed?”

CH31

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