#I have a monster Sam design as well

[small-brain-hourz]

Ok erm enjoy some alternate timeline crafting @shortiicake and I made up three years ago and just revamped

Long explanation time

Essentially the time traveling duo jumps straight to 301 since regular SnM live out their time in season 2. Sam gets electromagnetic powers via some wacky side effect of time shenanigans and while they gather the toys they react weaker but still work, ultimately being revealed that because Max’s powers are hereditary he still has them dormantly. I have more stuff for 305 but the max clones are basically the split personality max from season one, any discomfort he has from them is less nudity and more unrestrained emotional displays. He’s not a thrall but he has psychic potential Charlie can use

[kakusu-shipping]

My mini contribution to @echoes-lighthouse's Evil Slasher Orphanage! My wife Anna and I are here to help, and brought a few more kids of our own.

I really thought I was a horror fan until I sat down to draw this and came up blank. I guess I'm not a slasher guy, because a LOT more Monsters and Beasts came to mind, so it took a while to form a list. Though I did include Sam who is certainly a Creeture but.. They're human enough.

[iniziare]

Tag drop: Kafka

[spnhunter4life]

Not So Bad

Summary: Bad information on a hunt leads to a tense situation that ends in confessed feelings.

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: none

Masterlist

I sighed as I flipped through the pages of the dusty old book I’d picked up out of a mix of nerves and boredom. The Winchester boys and I were in New York of all places. I hated it here. The constant loud noise of the bustling city, the air that was so far from the fresh country air I’d grown used to at the bunker, and, worst of all, the tall buildings that blocked out the sky mixing with the thick crowds of people made me feel severely claustrophobic. 

But there was a monster here that needed to be killed, and the Winchesters always went where they were needed. And wherever they went, I went. So here I was, sitting in the library while the brothers went off to kill the thing. It was some sort of demi god named Daemon. 

I’d never been much of one for fighting. I preferred to be the designated researcher, helping out in a mental capacity instead of physical. Both brothers insisted I at least learn basic self defense and worked with me on occasion, wanting me to be able to defend myself if the worst were to happen, but they never pushed me to come face down monsters with them.

The book I was currently looking through was one of the three I’d been able to find in this library about Daemon. I’d already found the information I was looking for and reported it to the Winchesters. But now my options were to sit here and wait for the hunt to be over so the boys could come pick me up, or make my way back to the motel on my own, and I was perfectly comfortable where I was. Or at least, comfortable enough that it wasn’t worth braving the crowded streets.

I turned another page, skimming the words quickly, barely absorbing what I was reading. Somewhere in the back of my mind I made the distant realization that I was in a library and could go find a more interesting book to pass the time. I didn’t give the idea much thought, knowing that it would be difficult to lose myself in a book when my boys were in danger. I knew how long they’d been living this life and how capable they were, but that didn’t make it any less scary anytime they took off. I knew every time could be the last, and I didn’t take that for granted. 

I was about to close the book and at least find something to occupy myself that wasn’t a detailed explanation of the very thing the boys were facing down, when the sentence I’d just read actually registered in my mind. With a sharp inhale, my eyes darted back to the beginning of the paragraph.

It is a common misconception that Daemon is susceptible to oak stakes dipped in lamb’s blood – a rumor no doubt started by the mischievous deity himself – which is actually quite harmless to him. What most do not know is that Daemon is not a demigod at all, but the offspring of a demon and a faerie. As such, his one and only weakness is a silver blade dipped in holy water.

The blood drained from my face. I’d given the boys the wrong information and now they were off to face an angry demigod – or faerie demon hybrid, apparently – with weapons that may as well have been toothpicks for all the use they would be. 

How could I have been stupid enough to not double check the information? I should know better than that!

I didn’t have time to wonder if maybe this bit of information was the incorrect one. Something in my gut told me it was right, and even if it wasn’t, I couldn’t risk letting them go to their deaths, thinking they had the upper hand. I pulled my phone out and immediately dialed Sam’s number. It rang a few times before going to voicemail. Cursing quietly to myself, I tried Dean instead. Voicemail again.

Fear for my boys overrode everything else. They were all I had left in the world and I absolutely could not lose them. I couldn’t live without my sweet, steady Sam. He was an invaluable source of knowledge on all topics imaginable and he had a calm, comforting disposition that seemed to instantly ease everyone in his vicinity. His sense of humor may not have been as pronounced as Dean’s, but I appreciated it just the same and wondered what would happen if I never got to hear his laugh or see his smile again. 

And Dean. I couldn’t even let myself think what all I would be losing if he was gone. To an outsider, our relationship looked perfectly polite and comfortable. And it was, I suppose – we always got along well and never had a bad word to say to each other – if not a little strained. Although, that may have been just on my end. He never did seem to feel the tension that I did. I couldn’t blame him for not noticing either. After all, I did everything I could to keep him from knowing just how much I cared for him. Just how much I loved him.

Without stopping to think about it, I quickly exited the library and rushed out into the crowded streets I so despised. I ran in the direction of Daemon’s lair – we had known its location since early in the investigation and had only been working on the details of how to kill him – roughly shoving through crowds of people when necessary. 

I was severely winded by the time I reached the abandoned building that Daemon resided in. I was panting in short breaths that seemed to fill my lungs with fire. I didn’t have time to stop though. I spotted the Impala parked in the alley and fumbled a key out of my pocket. I threw the trunk open, grabbed a silver knife and poured a generous helping of holy water over it. I barely remembered to slam the trunk shut before rushing inside. 

I slowed down once I was inside. The building was large and I had no idea where any of the current occupants might be. I was just peeking around an open door, knife held at the ready, when a huge crash followed by a yell of pain sounded off to my right. My heart stopped. That was Dean. 

Please let him be ok. Please let him be ok. And Sam too. Let them both be ok, I pleaded to any god who would listen.

I crept as quickly and quietly towards the sound of distress as I could, sounds of a fight leading me there. Fear like I’d never felt before ran like ice through my veins, but kept me moving forward. I rounded a corner and felt my heart stop again before picking up a racing rhythm at what I saw. Sam was sprawled on the ground. He’s only unconscious, I told myself. The alternative was unacceptable. Across the room was Dean, pinned to a wall by Daemon, straining to break the hybrid’s grip and thrust his oak stake into its side. Daemon clearly had the upper hand and wrenched the stake away from him, throwing it behind him. I barely stopped myself from calling out Dean’s name. 

“You think you can kill me? A puny man, kill a god?” Daemon spat, the rage clear in his voice. 

I charged towards them, knife raised and ready. I was only a few steps away when Dean saw me over Daemon’s shoulder. His eyes widened in surprise before he could stop the involuntary reaction. I saw him immediately look away again, not wanting to give me away, but it was too late. Daemon had seen it. He whirled around to face me and knocked me aside without a thought. It was as easy as if he’d been swatting at an irritating fly. Dean yelled my name just as I collided with the wall. My breath, which I hadn’t even quite gotten back after my long sprint here, left me in a whoosh. 

I watched in fascination and horror as Dean took advantage of the momentary distraction to rush at Daemon. He kicked his legs out from under him before climbing on top of him, pinning him to the ground. They struggled for a few seconds before Dean was able to snatch the oak stake from where it had been discarded on the ground. 

“No, Dean! The knife!” I yelled to him. I had dropped it at some point between Daemon’s blow and hitting the wall. Dean didn’t question me, didn’t hesitate before dropping the useless weapon and searching for the knife. But it was out of his reach and it was clear he wouldn’t be able to hold Daemon down much longer. I started to struggle to my feet to grab it for him, but before I was able to, a large body ran into my line of sight, blocking my view of Dean, and stooping to pick up the knife. 

I tensed, terrified that there was some unknown second thing to deal with now, but soon realized it was only Sam. He picked up the knife and turned to his brother. Without speaking a word to each other, Dean rolled out of the way just as Sam plunged the knife down into the heart of the monster. 

Dean was red faced and breathing hard – and who could blame him after wrestling with a being with supernatural strength – but otherwise seemed alright, so I turned my attention to Sam who was closer and who I worried could have any number of injuries after being knocked unconscious. 

“Sam, are you-”

“What the hell were you thinking?” Dean demanded. Stunned at the hardness of his voice, I turned to look at him and realized that what I’d mistaken for exertion was actually anger. He was livid. I’d never seen him so angry, at least not with me. Why was he angry? This completely unexpected reaction left me feeling small and confused.

“What?” I asked. “What do you mean? I was just trying-” 

“You could have gotten yourself killed!” He yelled. He took a step in my direction and a grimace crossed his face as his leg seemed to struggle slightly under his weight. He grunted, the only sound he would let escape. I remembered his yell, the noise that had guided me in this direction to begin with. He was hurt. Dean, who sat stoically with teeth gritted, never letting more than a grunt escape while Sam dug bullets out of him or sewed up horrible gashes, had cried out in pain. That had scared me more than anything else tonight, the idea of how badly he must be hurt to not be able to hide it.

“Dean,” Sam started in a warning tone. He might have been about to defend me or to tell Dean to cool his temper so we could talk calmly, but I would never know. Anger flared up in me, completely overriding the confusion and uncertainty Dean’s words had caused. 

“Well you nearly were killed! So I guess it’s a good thing I’m here, isn’t it?” I shouted back. I wasn’t actually angry, I knew, just reliving the terror of the last half hour mixed with the relief of seeing them both ok and the worry at their injuries. In short, I was overwhelmed and Dean yelling at me had frayed my already shot nerves. 

“We would have been fine.” Dean deflected.

“No you wouldn’t have! When I got here Sam was on the ground, dead for all I knew, and you were hardly about to win in a battle of strength. And even if you had, your weapon was useless. You would have died!”

“You’re the one who decided you didn’t want to fight! And that’s fine, you know we’re ok with that. But you can’t just not train and then run into a fight with no idea what you’re doing!”

“Guys, maybe we should-” Sam tried again.

“No!” I yelled. I saw a look of surprised hurt in his eyes. I felt bad for snapping at him when he hadn’t done anything wrong, but I was too fired up to backtrack now. “If Dean hasn’t had enough of a fight tonight, then let’s fight! I may not be trained in hand to hand and weapons the way you are, but I assure you, I can yell at you all night long.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed and I saw the muscle jump in his jaw. 

“Sam, can you give us a minute?” He asked in a forced calm tone. 

Sam hesitated, looking back and forth between the two of us before agreeing. “Alright. But you’ve got ten minutes before I’m coming back in after you to make sure you’re not strangling each other,” he warned before leaving the room.

We glared at each other for a minute, neither of us speaking. After what felt simultaneously like an eternity and only a moment, Dean started talking again in that tone that was an attempt at being calm, but I could clearly hear the tenseness and anger underneath.

“You can’t just-”

“You said that already,” I interrupted immediately. His jaw ticked again, and I knew shouting at him when he was trying to deescalate the situation was not appreciated. He tried again in that same infuriating tone, a little more strained this time.

“Sam and I hardly need you jumping in to protect us. We know what we’re doing.”

“That’s not the point!”

“Then what is?” He yelled back, patience worn thin.

“It doesn’t matter if you know what you’re doing or not because you couldn’t have won! I was doing some more reading after you guys left and I realized I gave you the wrong weapon.”

“Then you call us! You don’t come running in after us!”

“I did call you! Neither of you picked up! I couldn’t just sit there and wait for you to die!”

“Of course you could have! Don’t you think we’d rather take our chances with bad weapons than to have you in the line of fire?”

“What would you have done Dean?” I screamed at him. “If it were you sitting around knowing that I was going after a monster with a weapon that wouldn’t kill it? What would you have done?” I felt confident this would be the end of it. After all, there was no doubt in my mind what he would have done, and he couldn’t possibly deny it.

“That’s not the same thing,” he said. He was still angry, but he said this in a quieter voice, the kind of quiet that meant I’d truly struck a nerve. 

“Why?” I asked, ready to swoop in with the metaphorical killing blow and win the argument. “Because I can’t fight, so of course I’d need you to come save me?”

“No.”

“Hypothetically saying I was as well trained as you then. Or that it was Sam. The point still stands. You would have done exactly what I did. You wouldn’t just sit back and let us die, so why would I?”

“I told you, that’s not what I meant,” he snapped. “How do you think we would feel if something happened to you? What if we couldn’t protect you and you got hurt?”

“How do you think I felt, Dean?” I stomped over to him, getting right in his face, letting him see how much I meant what I was saying. “I didn’t know if you would be alive or not when I got here.” I stopped for a breath, the intensity of the emotions I’d felt in that moment hitting me once again. “Don’t tell me I don’t understand what it would feel like. I know exactly what it feels like.”

“It’s not the same,” he said again, stubbornly.

“How is it not the same? If anything, it’s worse for me. You and Sam at least have each other. If I lose you guys, I have no one. I will not lose you. Do you understand me? If that means putting my own life on the line, I’m ok with that.” 

“I’m not!”

“Well that’s just too bad, isn’t it, because it’s my life, not yours!”

“You’re not understanding me! If you would just let me explain-”

But apparently I wouldn’t. I wasn’t doing it on purpose, but I just needed him to understand what I was saying. So I cut him off in the middle of his request that I not do so.

“No, I told you that I understand perfectly. It’s you who isn’t understanding! I’ve never been more scared in my whole life than I was when I heard you yelling in pain.” In the back of my mind, I registered that Dean’s expression had turned from anger to determination. But my brain didn’t seem to fully process this fact, not that I would have known what to do with that information even if I had. My emotions were driving me now, and there was no stopping the words pouring from my mouth.

“I thought that whatever happened, it must be really bad. And maybe I was too late to save you. And it’s my own stupid fault you needed saving in the first place. How could I-”

This time, Dean cut me off. It was only fair, after all I’d done the same to him. This was a much nicer, much more pleasant, much more unexpected way of interrupting though. He leaned down, crashing his lips against mine. As my body seemed to be running on instinct and adrenaline right now, I responded immediately, wrapping my arms around his neck, meeting his demanding kiss with enthusiasm. 

I ran one of my hands through his hair, enjoying the feel of the soft strands between my fingers. My other hand ran down over his shoulder, to his bicep, then over to his chest, loving the strength I could feel in all those hard earned muscles. His hands were wandering too, in my hair one second, traveling over my back the next, and then on my waist.

My brain, which seemed to have shut down for the past few moments – minutes? – decided to start working again, practically screaming at me that this was Dean I was kissing. Dean, apparently experiencing the same returning brain function as me, pulled away. He took a careful step back, creating some space between us. That was probably good. I couldn’t think with him so close. Not after that. His cheeks were flushed red for a whole new reason now and his hair was sticking up in an annoyingly attractive way. I could see by the surprise in his eyes that he hadn’t been planning on the kiss being that intense. 

“It’s not the same,” he repeated, his voice as calm as if we were having a normal conversation on any old day. As if we hadn’t been arguing minutes before. As if he hadn’t just given me the most mind numbing, spine tingling kiss of my life. “Because I love you. And I know that that probably wasn’t the best way to go about telling you, but I need you to understand what it would mean to me to lose you. If you lost me, you’d lose a friend. It would suck, but you would move on. But you’re more than that to me, and I don’t know how I could survive losing you.”

“Have you not paid attention to a thing I said?” I asked him, taking a step forward to eliminate the space he’d put between us. “I told you, if I lost you and Sam I would have nothing.”

“Yeah, but that’s not really true. You could make more friends easily enough.”

“But you’re not just my friends. Sam is my best friend, true, but I love him like he’s my brother. Losing him would hurt me just as bad as losing an actual brother. And you… I couldn’t move on from you any easier than you could move on from me. I love you too.”

“Yeah,” Dean winced. “Like a brother. I know.”

“Not like a brother,” I said, wrinkling my nose a little. “Do you really think I would kiss you like that, or at all for that matter, if that’s how I thought of you?”

“I would hope not,” he agreed. 

“So, basically, you’ve been yelling at me this whole time about not understanding you when, in reality, I understand perfectly, just like I said from the beginning.” I couldn’t help but gloat a little at being right.

The corner of Dean’s mouth twitched slightly in a repressed smile. 

“You know, I think you owe me for scaring me nearly to death earlier,” he said happily.

“I owe you?” 

“Yes. When you came running in here I swear my heart stopped. And then I had to watch you get thrown across the room…” He winced at the memory and I could tell how upset it made him, but he quickly shook it off and kept up his cheerful tone. “I think you took at least three years off my life. Lucky for you I’ll take payment in kisses. One for every year less I’ll live thanks to you.”

Part of me wanted to argue, but the other part was too giddy to even care. 

“Alright,” I agreed easily. I stretched up onto my tiptoes and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his mouth. I wanted to continue the intense kiss from earlier, but there would be time for that later. This seemed like the appropriate response to his gentle, teasing tone. “There’s one.”

I kissed him again, and then once more, feeling like I could burst with joy the whole time. 

“There,” I said after the third kiss. “Does that make us even?”

“For now,” he smiled. “I have a feeling I’ll be finding lots of excuses for more in the future.”

“How’s this for an excuse? I think you took at least five years off my life. I’ll be needing some compensation here as well.”

He grinned. “And I fully intend to pay up. Once we’re home though. I don’t know about you, but I’m ready to get out of here.”

I was a little disappointed to have to be done kissing him. But I knew he was right. We should get out of here. I knew he was in pain, and I still didn’t know how Sam was doing. Besides, it was only a temporary stop. Once we were home I would have as much time with him as I wanted.

Home. Just the mention of it made me long for it even more. But even though I couldn’t wait to be back, even though I’d spent the whole time here waiting for the moment we could leave, the past few minutes with Dean had made the whole thing worth it. 

Maybe New York wasn’t so bad after all.

Tags: @123passwort @buckybarnes-1917 @chicken-nuggs-and-cozy-hugs @globetrotter28

[sandyca5tle]

Monster - Slime HRT Story

This story takes place just after the 24 month mark of Slime HRT ------------------------------------------------------------------------------ I bounced down the street listening to my music, enjoying the euphoria of my gooey humanoid form jiggling along to my movement, along with the feeling of the vibrations from the earphones currently stuck in the slime of my ‘ears’ (which ofc were nothing more than aesthetic, slimes don’t need ears) rippling through my ‘head’. 

It had been a little strange getting used to that, as well as managing not to damage the earphones which were designed for human, or at least less liquid, users, but I had managed to find a point where they were both safe and functioning, so I could listen to music on the go. I’d actually had a similar issue with my headset at home, but that had been slightly easier to find the balance on.

Eventually, I arrived at the bus stop and sat down to wait for the bus to arrive - I had to arrive early otherwise there was a good chance the bus, with nowhere to wait, would just leave if it came early. This of course meant that I usually ended up waiting twice as long, as the bus was more often late than not, but I couldn’t chance it.

While idly listening to my music, bouncing my leg to the beat and drumming on my slime, I saw some movement out of the corner of my eye and looked over, seeing a small kid wielding a sword coming right towards me with an excited look on his face. Figuring I was about to be bombarded with questions, I paused my music (I didn’t have to take my earphones out anymore thanks to being able to hear from any part of my body), bracing for his arrival.

“Whoaaaaa, what are you?” He asked, his eyes wide with awe scanning over my body

“I’m a slime,” I replied to him, feeling a small buzz of euphoria at declaring it so nonchalantly

“Oh! Like one of those monsters in games!?” He replied

“Yes, kinda,” I replied. The word ‘monster’ was so loaded, but honestly I’d come to like it, it worked as a descriptor, and after all, slimes were frequently called monsters, so i guess it fit, and the way this kid said it, more as a description than anything else, I couldn’t help but agree with him “Although I’m a bit bigger,” I added with a smile and a wink 

I saw some more movement and looked up to see a woman, slightly frazzled after clearly having chased after what I presumed was her son, approaching the pair of us. My assumption confirmed when the little boy turned to the woman and spoke to her

“Mummy look! It’s a slime monster lady, like from Sam’s video games!” He announced to her, all the words he’d used for me stirring feelings in my core.

The woman quickly looked me over as she began to reply “You can’t just call people ‘monsters’ just because they look different!”

“I know! But she really is a monster, she said so herself!!” The kid replied, and I had to smile as I spoke to hopefully save the kid a scolding

“It’s fine, really, I don’t mind,” I told her 

“See!” The boy said triumphantly, and I threw the mother a small apologetic look, a vindicated kid could be a bit of a handful

“Still, we should get going, no need to bother the lady any more than you already have,” The mother told him, half trying to push him along. I waved my hand to show it really was no bother, before waving the pair off, receiving a happy wave back from the kid.

***

Fortunately it hadn’t taken much longer for the bus to arrive, and I’d paid my fare and taken my seat and just semi-zoned out, enjoying my music as the bus drove along. I did notice that the bus was slowly filling up, with the pairs of seats that had once had only one person on it now being shared by strangers. I was fortunate enough that people seemed to favour the other seats over the one next to me. I knew part of it was because many people didn’t want to sit next to ‘someone like me’ but honestly at this moment in time that was playing to my advantage, so I decided no to worry about it too much.

What I did have to worry about came after, when a pair of guys, a little younger than me, but not far off, hopped on the bus. I quickly looked around and realised that there were only a couple free seats on the bus, so I’d likely end up with one of them next to me. That was fine, mostly, just meant awkwardly keeping to myself and making sure I didn’t get goo or anything on him by accident. I also made sure to reduce and draw away my acid, a skill I’d gotten good at and was particularly useful in situations like these. 

I looked back over to them, seeing them standing next to my pair of seats, talking between each other. Normally, or moreso ‘for a human’, they likely wouldn’t have been able to hear the conversation over the music blaring from the earphones, however I, as a slime, was able to hear from any part of my body, so could easily pick up their conversation.

“There’s nowhere where we can sit together,” One of them said

“There’s two seats right here!” The other pointed out, gesturing to pair of seats of which one I currently occupied causing me to frown at his assessment

The first guy's voice grew quieter, but not quiet enough for me not to be able to hear him “Can’t you see there's one of those- those things there!?” He said, surprisingly unsubtly pointing at me, his tone a mix of fear and disgust

“So what? They’re all animals and monsters, they don’t deserve a seat!” The second guy pointed out, not making any attempt to obscure his words or his hate. There was that word again; ‘monster’ this time, instead of something descriptive and fitting, it felt like a knife jabbing at me (not that knives really hurt anymore, but the point remains the same).

Ruminating on this, I had taken my attention off the two boys, only turning my attention back when I caught movement out the corner of my eye. What I had thought/hoped would be one of them simply accepting their ‘poor luck’ of having to sit next to me, was in fact one of them falling towards me. Reflexively I moved out of the way, by body deforming and moving around my clothes so as not to have the human end up inside of me, leaving me as a somewhat-web of goo clinging to parts of the bus above the seat where I had once been sitting, and now the guy who has first spoken now lay. My clothes had either fallen to the floor, or been caught in the me-web and I frowned at having lost them. I shifted my attention to look at the other guy, figuring he’d pushed the first, glaring at him, my head having remained intact from my movement

“What was that for!” I yelled at him, quickly seeing the rest of the bus that wasn’t already looking our way swivel to look at us, at me, realising how loud I’d yelled

“What?” The standing guy replied “My friend needed a seat, and you were taking up a perfectly good one,”

I looked at him, incredulous “What do you mean ‘taking up’! I have every right to be here!” I retorted, trying to remain quiet, but his comments from before combined with his actions had ticked me off a little

“You have no rights! You’re a monster!” The boy who had been pushed retorted, glaring at me from the seat I had vacated. Again the word that had once seemed so right stung like acid.

I wanted to retort, but I knew that the current state of non-human rights, especially those of species who did not exist, was tenuous at best, so I actually didn’t know if I had any rights, and didn’t want to push it here

“Can you all be quiet!” A call from the front of the bus came “No distracting the driver,” He said “You, whatever you are-,” I realised he was addressing me- “Find another seat or stand, but stop gumming up my bus,” He instructed “And you two shut up and sit down,”

I saw a smirk from the pushing asshole, who now took the seat beside his friend, and I wanted to leap at him, but held myself back from doing so. I looked down at the clothes that had fallen to the floor, now at the feet of the first guy, who then kicked them under the chair in front of him. I frowned, but didn’t want to cause more of a ruckus than I had, so I left them, extending tendrils to pull myself around the bus to a spare seat. I forewent my humanoid form in lieu of clothes, and simply assuming the form of a small ball and planting myself on the seat next to what  seemed to be a middle aged man, who eyed me cautiously before looking away once I caught his eye. I let out a pseudo-sigh, irritated a little at my inability to do so, missing the relief it often provided, but simply reached for my phone instead - only to realise it had been in the clothes I had had to abandon at my previous seat. I cursed angrily but silently to myself, my anger only quelled by the realisation that my (fortunately wireless) earphones had remained inside me, and were still connected, so I could at least enjoy my music.

I spent the rest of the ride quietly fuming, bubbles forming inside my body and popping at the top of me, my gaze constantly falling to the pair of boys, who I caught looking back at me once or twice, usually with smug and disgusted looks. In a small ray of fortune, they got off before I did, and so when it was my turn I was able to recover my clothes and phone without issue. Carrying them in tendrils as I left, I tried to ignore all the stares from the passengers as I moved down the aisle, mumbling an automatic thank you to the driver, before hopping off the bus. 

Once the bus left, I took a moment to retake my humanoid form, slipping on my clothes again as I did so. A ball of slime carrying clothes would get more attention than I normally would and I did not want more of that today. It also meant I didn’t have to carry them, which was more convenient. My anger still simmering, I headed home to finally seek sanctuary from the human world. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------

First side/bonus story I've written (alone) for Slime HRT, hope y'all'll like it! Slime HRT First - Prev - Next Tag List Below Cut

@calliecwrites, @friedsputnik, @now-entering-the-goop-zone, @scrubbinn, @lilacinthefog,

@mint-and-authoress, @losttodreams, @redroversendjayover, @ariathelamia, @kanithedemonca

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

“If You Don’t Look Good, We Don’t Look Good” - Dean x Reader

Rating Explicit

Dean x Reader

Tags: Fluff, Angst, Humor, Shameless Smut (I got carried away), Cameo Appearance by Soft!Dom Dean, Unprotected Sex

Word Count: 4200

You and Sam had decided on a code to use in the most grievous, world-shattering of situations.

Full Dean Meltdown

Neither one of you have had to use it – until you get a text from Sam. A case has gone all kinds of awful for Dean. You are not ready for the version of Dean you have to face in the aftermath.

Notes: This is total self-indulgence because I miss This Dean.

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "Hair Pulling" square.

Image created in Canva (links for photos used - found on Google: Jensen Ackles, Liverpool Comic Con, 2023; Jensen Ackles Photo Shoot

66

You stare, mid-muffin chew, at Sam’s text.

“Fuck me.” A few stray crumbs and a rogue blueberry land on a page of lore you should probably be more careful with. But you can’t be bothered with MOL reference handling procedures at the moment.

This is Red Alert. Defcon 5. Designated Survivor Mode Activated.

You and Sam had decided on a code to use in the most grievous, world-shattering of situations.

Full Dean Meltdown

“Fuck.” There’s no point in continuing to curse to yourself. “Fuck.” But you can’t help it. Neither one of you has ever had to use it before. You’d come close a few times.

The book is forgotten, pushed to the side on the table surface. Your fingers glide over the phone’s keyboard.

Is he alright?!? What happened? Please, tell me this is a joke?

I wouldn’t joke about this. Sam’s words bubble up, line by line. Well, I made the mistake of joking right after it happened. It’s gotten progressively worse the entire drive back. He hasn’t said a single word since we got in the car. IDK what’s gonna happen.

“Fuck.”

Should I evacuate? How much time do I have?

Just pulled into the garage.

Shit, Sam! Do you not understand how a code word for disaster preparedness works? One needs enough time to actually prepare for the disaster!

You wait. More bubbles. Then nothing. Maybe Sam didn’t make it out alive. Maybe you should make a run for it through the war room and up the stairs. Save yourself.

I received some communication. He’s headed straight for the showers. Meet you in the lab.

“A what?”

“Musca.” Sam sighs. “Ever seen ‘The Fly’?”

“On cable years ago, filtered through my fingers.”

Sam continues. “They secrete this sticky goo to build a nest.” His mouth crinkles. “Dean landed in it.”

“The nest?” you ask.

“The goo. A puddle of the stuff. Monster fluids freak him out.”

You shiver in disgust at the thought. “Fuck creature feature fluids. 100% in agreement.”

“So, we tracked the musca to its hideout in an abandoned factory. We split up when we got inside…”

“Why do you always split up?” you ask, following it with a frustrated groan.

Sam purses his lips and then proceeds. “When I found him, he was basically glued to this massive conveyor belt holding the goo like it was a kiddie pool. I had to cut him out of most of his clothes to free him.”

The thought of a half-naked Dean has you shiver for other reasons. “Poor guy,” you add in an effort to express sympathy over your dirty thoughts.

Sam chuckles.

You straighten with worry Sam has figured out your crush on his brother. Ready to dispute any yearnings, you add a grumbly edge to your voice and the question. “What was funny about any of that?”

Sam fists long strands on the right side of his scalp high in the air. “Even his hair got stuck to the belt. I had to hack half of it off.” He fingers his bangs back into effortless waves. “Once we killed it, Dean mumbled, ‘Vidal Sassoon you ain’t, fucker.’”

You shrug, confused. “Well, I mean, I get the trauma from the nasty gnat excretions. But that doesn’t explain why you had to warn of a possible Dean disaster.”  

Sam’s gaze tears from yours to stare at the floor by his boots.

“Sam?”

He lifts a shoulder. “I might have said something like, ‘We can’t all be masterful hunters with glorious locks.’”

You frown. “Sam…”

Sam raises a hand in defense. “Hey, maybe now he’ll finally shut up about my hair being a liability. I mean, hello, I’ve still got mine.”

The temptation to knock on Dean’s bedroom door is great. But you refrain, hiding away in yours instead. He’ll be better in the morning, you decide. Especially if you fry up some bacon.

A light rap of knuckles against mahogany distracts you from the latest show binge on your laptop. You pause the action. “Yeah?”

“Got a minute?” Even with the question, Dean’s tone sounds like a command.

You gulp. “Sure.” Rotating in the seat, your hand grips the top of the backrest. You’ll try to hold the line against the Dean Winchester Offensive.

The door swings slowly on its hinges. Dean slinks into your space. It’s the opposite of his usual bluster and humorous bellows that lead to inevitable laughter on your end. His slippers shuffle along the tile. He’s wearing roomy sweats and a dark t-shirt that hugs his torso. A folded towel is wedged into the crook of his arm. 

Your brain locks onto two things that appear off about Dean. The first thing totally out of place on the masterpiece before you is the baseball cap.

In the next second, you remember why he’s wearing it. It’s not because he’s undercover as a delivery driver or Fish and Wildlife Game Warden.

Dean does not want you to see his hair in its current state.

The second thing makes your pulse quicken. His beard is… gone. You can’t remember the last time you saw him even close to clean-shaven. You forgot what that sharp jawline used to do to your insides.

“Hey.” You don your best don’t-let-on-to-anything smile.

Dean scrutinizes you as if you are a witness in his rapid-fire way and then huffs. “Son of a bitch told you, didn’t he?”

You decide not to remind Dean he and Sam share the same mother. “He did. I’m sorry. You okay?”

The door clicks shut. “I’ll live. Sam might not see the light of day, though.”

You ignore the murder threat, instead focusing on a new scent in the air. You sniff, nostrils flaring with the deep inhale. Dean smells like he’s working on an amazing beach tan.

He nods at your reaction. “Coconut Oil. I had to use all that was in the kitchen for…” He circles his lower body with a finger and eventually points to the baseball cap.

“Did it do the trick?”

“Better than I hoped. I even got all that nasty shit out of my hair.” His weight shifts from one foot to the other. “But I need a favor.”

“At your disposal.” Still seated, you somersault your hand as if addressing royalty.

That at least cracks a tiny smile into his serious veneer. “I had to take a razor to my hair and cut it pretty short. Can you clean me up in the back?”

You clutch your chest and gasp in the most dramatic fashion you can muster. “You trust me to touch your hair?” 

“I trust you with my life, wiseass.” Dean smirks. “Can the sass and help a guy out, would ya?”

A warmth blossoms in your heart at Dean’s words. The heat spreads to your skin. You wave a hand at the towel and clear your throat. “Those the accouterments?”

Dean quirks a brow and grins. “Croutons?”

“And you call me the wiseass.” You sigh.

He shrugs with a nod in agreement. He drops the towel on the desk and lifts one of the corners to reveal the electric razor inside.

“Okay. Here’s as good a place as any, I suppose.” You rise from your seat, close the laptop, and move it to your dresser.

“You sure? We can go to the bathroom.” He thumbs at the door.

You wave a hand at the chair you vacated, now standing behind it. “Here’s good.”

Dean sits. The wooden chair creaks.

“Towel.”

Dean grabs the razor before passing the towel. You flap the fabric, channel your inner toreador, and let it billow over Dean’s frame like a sail. When it settles, you wrap and tuck it into the back of the collar.

Moments like this are pure indulgence. Getting within close proximity of Dean years ago left your brain unable to process the simplest tasks. Breathing. Blinking. Talking. Eventually, you got a handle on your senses. Now, you could treat yourself to the experience of him on occasion in a myriad of ways. No one had to be the wiser that the mundane helped create many fantasies.

“Razor.”

Dean chuckles, presenting you with the razor over his shoulder. “It’s not surgery.”

“Hey, appreciate the seriousness with which I’m embracing this endeavor.” You step to his left. “Dean?”

He lifts his head to peer up from under the brim of his cap. “Yeah?” His blinks emphasize the question.

All that does is force you to focus on his pretty lashes and the eye color he’s daring you to try and describe in your head. The cheekbones and the manicured five o’clock shadow aren’t helping matters either. You swallow and remember what’s supposed to happen next. “Can’t do much with that hat on your head.”

“Oh. Right.” He sighs. “Just, no laughing, alright?”

You place a hand on his shoulder and squeeze softly in confirmation. “No laughing. Promise.”

Dean exhales. You suck in your lips and hold your breath. He closes his eyes and peels the cap off.

You stare dumbfounded.

“Say whatever you gotta say,” Dean mumbles with scrunched features and shut lids.

Your vision clouds. Heart races. “It’s…”

“Awful,” he interrupts.

“Perfect,” you whisper.

Eyes open at the word. His gaze shoots up to meet yours. “Huh?”

Gone are the 90s dreamboat bangs he’s been growing out and tending to since 2020. In their place are a couple of directionless inches that need gel after the scrubbing, clipping, and hat matting. The Musca goo must have done most of its damage around the sides and back. In those areas, he’s shaved it short and close, done his best to fashion a fade that you imagine was muscle memory for him even after all these years. You eye the spot at the base of his skull that needs to be cleaned and tapered.  

You’re blinking, fighting back tears, utterly speechless.

Dean stares, total confusion lining his face. “Are you crying? Why the hell are you crying?” He taps the top of his head. “Shit… is it that fucking of a fiasco?”

“No.” You cover your mouth at the possibility a nervous laugh might spill out, which will only irritate him further. Moments pass as you struggle to steady your breath.

“Well, what the hell is it then?”

Dropping the hand covering your mouth, you beam down at him. “It’s you.” You could care less about what you were supposed to do with the razor in your hand. Instead, you perch your ass against the desk so you can lean back and take him in.

Dean’s eyes widen. You’ve seen that look of concern many times. “Yeeaaah. It’s me. Who else would it be? Do I need to get Sam?”

Your head shakes in amazement at the vision. “I haven’t seen this Dean since… damn, since before the pandemic. Since you and Sam made that bet, remember?”

“Gonna have to be a little more specific. Sam and I make lots of bets.”

“The one about you being unable to resist the temptation to take a razor to your hair during lockdown. I don’t even remember what the stakes were.”

Dean contemplates. “Hm. I haven’t got a clue. That was like, what, four years ago.” His lids shade the dark green of his irises. “This Dean?”

You nod. Your breath hitches at the swell of emotions rising. “The guy I first met.”

Dean shifts in the chair and leans forward. Every furrow and crinkle on his face melts away. His eyes appear to double in size as he waits for you to continue.

“My hero.” The whisper is a physical manifestation of how vulnerable and exposed you feel at Dean’s silent interrogation method. You press on. “The one that risked his life to save me… forever ago.”

He lifts one side of his mouth in a lopsided grin. “Sam was there, too, you know.”

You laugh. Cheeks warm at the adorably smug reaction. “Yes, you’re right. He was.”

Dean shakes his head. “Sam’s had the exact same haircut for years. I don’t see you crying every time you lay eyes on him. He’s a walking reminder of the guy you first met.”

“But he’s not you.” In your haste to provide an explanation, you realize you’ve said too much.

Dean’s mouth opens a fraction. His brows downturn. He’s working it out in his head in real-time.

You’re terrified.

A new smile forms. You think you spot a blush on his cheeks. “What else do you remember about this Dean?”

You shrug and tear your gaze from his. You don’t want your words to betray you again.

“Hm.” Dean rambles off a laundry list. “A lot of brooding back then, wasn’t there? I was a really good brooder. Hard to figure out? Distant, too, right? Definitely knew what was best for everybody. Stubborn jackass.”

You remain silent.

“Okay, still a stubborn jackass.”

You giggle. He joins in with a chuckle. Your anxiety eases and you find courage to look at him again.

“We’ve all changed in different ways, I guess. You, for example.” Dean gestures in your direction.

You stiffen. This could go many ways. You aren’t ready for any of them.

“You don’t take any of my shit, for one.” He raises a finger. “You're confident. You speak your mind. You have a life outside of these bunker walls.” Four fingers are on display for a while. He smiles and elongates his thumb. “But you still make this your home.”

“Every second of the life I’m able to live is because of you guys. I owe you everything. I’m lucky you let me make this my home.” You reason.

Dean’s smile drops. The open palm clenches into a fist and rests on his thigh. “You don’t owe us anything.”

“You and Sam did all that for me without batting an eye. You didn’t expect anything in return. You and Sam gave me so much more than I could ever repay. You gave me a second chance. You gave me a home.” You shrug and smile. “You became my home.”

He studies the floor and smirks, stating more to himself, “Not the only long-standing bet I’ve lost to Sam today.” Dean inhales and sits tall, focusing back on you. He nods, slow and calculated. “So, perfect, huh?” 

You roll your eyes. “Don’t get a big head.”

“A little late for that.” He grins and reclines back. “Would you go so far as to say this Dean” – he sweeps his hands in front of his figure in a dramatic gesture – “is irresistible?”

You exhale. “I don’t know if I’d say irresistible.”

He licks his lips. “Whew. Well, that’s good. I mean, otherwise, you’d have the same problem I have.”

You drop the razor on the desk and cross your hands over your chest. “What problem would that be?”

A heated gaze, beginning at your socked feet, rakes over you with his answer. “How much I find every fucking thing about you irresistible. You could shave your head and wear a potato sack, and I’d still have to keep my feelings in check.” You're practically on fire by the time his eyes lock with yours. “Every goddamn second of every day I’m around you.”

“This would be one of those times I don’t take any of your shit,” you scoff and squint back.

It’s his turn to clutch his hand to his chest. “You think I’m lying?”

“I think you’re having a little too much fun at the expense of my soul-baring.”

“Wanna bet?” 

Dean’s voiced that question countless times. Tonight, though, certainty laces his words.

He seems to take your silence as the only needed response. “Kiss me.”

“Wh-hat?”

“If you think you can resist, kiss me, and it’s a one-and-done.” His brows lift. “But if you can’t… Well, I might not leave this room anytime soon.”

“That doesn’t sound like a wager. More like a dare.” You straighten your stance. “Besides, you’re assuming…”

He grumbles out an interruption, “Sounds like somebody’s stalling.”

Your mouth snaps shut.

“Maybe we both take the armor off for a night. Take a chance on something that could be awesome.” Dean posits. His hands rub the cloth atop his thighs. “I can make it awesome.” The tone is low and promising. “If it helps, I’m this Dean tonight. We can worry about that Dean tomorrow.” He smiles, reaches a hand out to you, and nods in encouragement.

He’s struggling to play it cool, keep his emotions in check. You’ve seen this Dean before. He’s inhaling and exhaling fast through his nose. His jaw clenches and it cracks your resolve even further.

You drop your shield and let this Dean win you over. 

You melt, wrapping your fingers over his. This Dean’s touch electrifies every cell and awakens every dormant hope you had put to rest. He tugs you into his space. His lead forces the parting of your legs in order for his thigh to slot between. You hover. Your chin drops to your chest while his chin tips up high to hold your gaze. His body heat pulses off him like a vibrational energy. “Kiss me.” It’s the sweetest and softest request you’ve ever heard this Dean utter.

Your fingers trace along the freshly shaved hair over his right ear. It’s slippery and smooth in one direction, scritch-scratchy in the other. You can study every battle scar on this handsome canvas. No bangs of curtains or overgrown beard can hide them from you now. 

His lips part and release a deep sigh. Your fingers slip down his neck. Warm hands rest on the curve of your hips.

“I won’t be able to resist you,” you whisper.

“Good,” he hums. He’s guiding you with a firm grip to straddle his thigh. Then, there’s an encouraging push with a large palm and splayed fingers against the middle of your back. The sweet smell of coconut hits. Your gaze zones onto that bowed top lip. The way the plump bottom one parts from it to grant entrance.

Dean huffs an impatient groan you are all too familiar with. “You don’t kiss me in the next five seconds, I’m gonna kiss you.”

“Is that supposed to be some kind of threat?” you tease.

“More like a warning.” His voice is gruff and deep.

You hold back a moan at the sound, then dip down and do as you’re told.

Everything about the kiss is eager and rushed. Together you’re a tangle of limbs and fever pitch need. You’re pressed tight and right to his body - all muscle-tense and trigger-ready. His lips respond in kind to your every brush, swipe, and nudge for more and more.

“Gonna take such good care of you,” he murmurs through the kiss.

You gasp in satisfaction at the intention. 

His lips skim to your jaw, under your ear, then down your neck. “I gotta know that’s what you want.”

“Yes, Dean.”

Another hum thrums against your skin. You shiver as fingers creep under the hem of your t-shirt. His nose nuzzles along the frayed v-neck collar. He cups your breasts under the fabric. A thumb and finger twists one of your nipples even more erect. Teeth scraping and tongue lapping over the other fabric-covered nipple draw a strained moan out of your throat.

Soon the shirt is tugged hastily over your head for removal. Then you feel his mouth and hands all over your breasts again, unencumbered.

You’re a panting, heaving mess riding his thigh like you’re on an X-rated carousel. You arch your chest into his face. He’s slurping and sucking your nerve endings into the stratosphere. He pops a tit out of his mouth long enough to order, “Yeah, come for me so I can fuck that nice wet pussy.”

Dean staring at you, commanding you to come for him, is the tipping point you need to orgasm hard and fast.

“Yeah.” He grabs a fistful of your hair and clamps his mouth to yours. “Gonna feel so good around my cock.” He steals every gasp of air you expel with his inhales.

You’re tingling all over. He peels you off his thigh to sandwich his standing body to yours. He towers over you. He’s stiff and erect in his sweats, pressed into your lower tummy. His hands sweep up and down the channel of your spine.

“This Dean’s got a lot to make up for.” His tongue licks at your lips. “But I gotta be inside you right now.”

You nod. “You got five seconds to get me naked and on that bed.”

Never let it be said that Dean Winchester is not up for a challenge.

The chair behind him is now careening towards the bedroom door on all four legs. You scream-giggle as he lifts you into the air while he twirls, then tosses you onto the mattress, bouncing at the impact.

The sound of the chair crashing and toppling into a corner does nothing to distract you from watching Dean tunnel out of his t-shirt, kick off his slippers, and hopscotch out of his pants and boxers. His hard, thick cock springs to attention.

Fuck. You want every inch of that deep inside you.

He hooks his fingers onto the hem of your pants and manages to pull your socks off along with them. Kneeing onto the bed, he croons, “Been wanting you for so long, baby.”

Your head falls back into the cushion of the mattress, woozy from Dean’s actions and confession. “Probably been wanting you longer.”

Your panties are off and tossed over his shoulder next. “You don’t gotta wait anymore.” He grips under your knees and drags you to him. He slides over the wet heat of your folds and hisses, “Wanna fuck you without a condom.”

You whimper, “Just fuck me already.”

He smiles, grabs his cock – that must be fitted with a pussy homing device – and pistons into your entrance without any further mother fucking ado.

You gasp at the searing heat and sharp pain of him stretching you open. But he doesn’t stop fucking you. He’s minding how your facial features accept the brunt of each thrust and the agonizing slow release of his cock. Over and over. His descent is just as slow as he fucks. But eventually, your legs clamp around his waist and he wraps you in an embrace. Chests plastered together, moaning into each other’s mouths.

Your fingers inch into what remains of his bangs. You pull at the hair and Dean groans out, “Yeah.”

It’s lovely and languid for however long you both have the patience. The feel of him everywhere and inside is something you don’t ever want to end. But there’s a second orgasm building. The thought of Dean spilling into you has your walls clench in impatience around his cock.

“Fuck,” he grunts, face tucked along your neck. You lift your head up to enjoy the view of his undulating back and curvy ass clenching and raising as his fucking gains momentum. You pull at his hair again. “Fuuuck.”

He stills, turns to stone, and you feel his cock pulse and warmth spill inside. Moments later, a hand wedges between your bodies to thumb your clit and trigger your second orgasm.

You cry out his name.

“I got you, baby,” Dean whispers into your ear. And he does. Not letting go and practically swaddling you with his body. The sexiest weighted blanket on the planet.

You smile and stroke – instead of pulling – at his hair. “Who’s got me exactly? This Dean or That Dean?”

He sighs, sounding winded. “You get all the versions. Whether you like it or not.”

“I’d like that very much.”

He leans back to stare at you. “Yeah?” He’s red and flushed and the happiest you’ve ever seen him. “Even if I grow my hair out again?”

You nod. “Yeah. More for me to pull.”

Dean groans and flops to his back beside you, chuckling.

You listen to the rhythm of your collective breathing slow down and regulate. His fingers brush along the flesh of your thigh. “Dean?”

“Hm?”

“Earlier, you said something about losing two bets to Sam today. What was the other one?”

“Asshole told me you had a thing for me years ago. Let’s hold off on telling him he was right, or I’m doing his laundry for an entire year.”

“I don’t think we have to tell him anything, Dean. I’m pretty sure he heard everything.”

“Hm. You’re right.” He’s up on an elbow, staring down at you. “Maybe text him that code thing? That might get him out of the bunker for a while.”

You blink. “Code?”

“Don’t play coy now.” Dean shakes his head. “But what’s the ‘66’ mean?”

You bite your lip.

He waits.

“It was Sam’s idea.”

He waits.

“The 66 Seals.” 

Dean cringes.

You shrug. “Too soon?”

“And he says I have a twisted sense of humor.” Dean yawns. He finds the edge of the comforter you both are lying atop and tosses it over your naked bodies. “So, will you still clean me up in the back? Maybe wait until morning, though?”

“Absolutely.” You snuggle into his chest, secure that Dean will wake up next to you in the morning. “If you don’t look good, we don’t look good.”

It takes a beat before Dean responds with a teasing smack to the back of your head, followed by a kiss on your forehead. “Wiseass.”

[stargazedwinchester]

Protect | Sam

A small one to get me back into writing, will be doing one for Dean also! <3

Summary: You attempt to comfort Sam from his most recent break up.

Prompt: "If she threatens you in any way you tell me, okay?" @promptsbytaurie

If anyone is interested, I have a taglist here! So if you want to be notified any time I post, pls send in a form so I can update it! Been away for a little bit so I’m gonna update it soon if anyone else has applied their interest :)

(Guys pls let me do a part 2 to this pls pls I beg)

Taglist: @girlsforpjm @rowenalovee @amythedoctor

Word count: 1,069

♱⁺. ⋆˙✧⋆✧˙⋆⊹.♱

The ambience in the bunker is quieter than usual. Usually there’s some weird genre of music playing loud enough so you can hear from 4 rooms away or someone furiously tapping away on a keyboard.

Walking down toward the lobby, it’s dead quiet. Assuming no one’s home, you take a gander at the books on the bookshelves, multiple books about monster lore and latin history, demonic possession and even some without a name. They’re worn down from the use they got from when the Men of Letters were around. Without letting either of the Winchesters know about it, you managed to sneak your own normal book collection in there. What they don’t know can’t hurt them, right? Sam especially would go nuts.

Picking out a light blue book with an intricate flower design running around it, the bolder, darker letters stand out in contrast. You scan the pages before taking a seat in the armchair in the corner of the library. The floor lamp next to you is dim, setting the mood perfectly for a quick comforting read.

A cough breaks you out of your gaze, unknowing that anyone was even inside. You peer round the corner and notice a huge man with long, unruly hair. His head sits in the palm of his hand, his long legs spread out underneath the table.

“Jesus Christ,” you whisper to yourself and make yourself known. “Sam?”

He grumbles, barely turning his body around to acknowledge you. “Yeah?” He clears his throat, his voice croaky and weak. You pad your way over to him and stand above him, examining the empty whiskey bottle and a glass that has remnants. His personal phone is left unlocked, a few texts sent to someone but haven’t gone through. You skim read.

7:04AM

Can we please talk?

8:15AM

Please message me, IDK what I did wrong

17:16PM

Sam, leave me alone. I’m done talking with

you. I will block your number

18:08PM

Sorry

MSG NOT SENT. TRY AGAIN

“How are you feeling?” You question, speaking carefully as he has obviously had a few drinks. You pull out a chair and sit beside him, his head remaining in his hands. You stare at him intently, hoping for a good answer. He takes a deep breath and sighs shakily. He rubs his face and he glances at you quickly. His eyes dark, and the tip of his nose crimson. He wipes his nose and takes another swig, too quick for you to even stop him. “What do you think?” He huffs, trying to show a smile but failing. You look down at the floor, unsure of what to say. He reaches over and locks his phone, then rubs his eyes with his fingers. “I don’t know what to do,” He starts, his voice wobbling. You reach for the nape of his neck and gently caress his hair, “What did I do wrong?” He starts, tears forming in his eyes as he looks at you once more, then breaking contact. “It’s okay, Sammy. Let it out.” You say, stroking his hair as he sits back, looking up at the ceiling.

“I look so weak,” He laughs, trying to collect himself. You sigh quietly. “You’re not. If it hurts you, it hurts you. It’s normal to be sad.” You say, trying to make him feel at least a little bit better. He reaches for his glass again and you place your palm over the top of it. “I think you’ve had enough of this as well,” You slide the glass across the table away from Sam. “Listen. Things like this come and go, you’re more than capable to find someone way better than her. I understand it hurts right now but in a couple of weeks time you’ll feel so much better for relying on yourself and the people that love you than the people that don’t. You’re going to be fine, Sam. Trust me.” You give the speech like your life depends on it, but seeing your close friend so heartbroken made you feel like it’s your duty to ensure he hears exactly what he needs to hear. He looks at you with shining eyes, the red in them makes the hazel pop more than usual. His nose still red and cheeks flushed, his usually neat hair is tussled. “I just loved her so much,” He sighs, straightening himself out. “But she wasn’t for me. We were so different.” He explains, his eyes scanning your face. “How so?” You ask, trying not to intrude.

“Well, I’d want to go places with her to eat, drink, whatever and she’d hate it. She’d never want to spend time with me or show me off. I guess she just wanted to use me, I think that’s the thing that hurts the most,” He admits, shedding new light on his now past relationship with this woman… something that felt like rage and sadness for him built up inside of your chest, and he carries on. “When things wouldn’t go her way, she’d get angry with me. So angry,” He pauses, “She’d threaten things but never actually go through with it, thankfully. I could never say anything because I was scared of her reaction or if she’d leave me for standing up for myself.” He finishes, a tear falling down his cheek and nothing stops you from wiping it away. Keeping your hand gently on his face, you stare into his eyes as he does yours.

“If she threatens you in any way you tell me, okay?” You say, keeping your tone calm and collected, but Sam smirks at the fire that glows within yourself, a passion for protecting the ones you love, or maybe it’s more than that.

“Okay. I will.” He smiles for the first time since this whole interaction started. You slowly start to stand up, shuffling yourself out of the chair. You remove your hand from Sams’ face, but then he unexpectedly takes your hand as you try to turn away, pulling you back. You look at him with concern, and his helpless gaze stares up at you. “Thank you, Y/N.” He says, pursing his lips. “Honestly, it’s what I needed. So, thank you.”

“I’d do anything for you, Winchester.” You say, quickly grooming his hair so its somewhat neater. Glancing into his eyes one last time, he shows you a fragile smile.

A delicate smile is still a smile.

[nalyra-dreaming]

hello :) why do you think it was easier for claudia to go for louis and not lestat on board for her plan to leave in the finale of s1? do you think they may even show us a different retelling of murder night this season?

She thought him easier to handle, and knew Lestat would never hurt Louis.

That is... the very blunt truth of it.

Here is the diary entry from "Merrick", which I think will play a part at the trial:

Louis will do as I wish, even unto the very destruction of Lestat, which I plan in every detail. Whereas Lestat would never cooperate with my designs upon Louis. So there my loyalty lies, under the guise of love even in my own heart. "What mysteries we are, human, vampire, monster, mortal, that we can love and hate simultaneously, and that emotions of all sorts might not parade for what they are not. I look at Louis and I despise him totally for the making of me, and yet I do love him. But then I love Lestat every bit as well. "Perhaps in the court of my heart, I hold Louis far more accountable for my present state than ever I could blame my impulsive and simple Lestat. The fact is, one must die for this or the pain in me will never be scaled off, and immortality is but a monstrous measurement of what I shall suffer till the world revolves to its ultimate end. One must die so that the other will become ever more dependent upon me, ever more completely my slave. I would travel the world afterwards; I would have my way; I cannot endure either one of them unless that one becomes my servant in thought, word, and deed. "Such a fate is simply unthinkable with Lestat's ungovernable and irascible character. Such a fate seems made for my melancholy Louis, though the destroying of Lestat will open new passages for Louis into the labyrinthian Hell in which I already wander with every new thought that comes in my mind. "When I shall strike and how, I know not, only that it gives me supreme delight to watch Lestat in his unguarded gaiety, knowing that I shall humiliate him utterly in destroying him, and in so doing bring down the lofty useless conscience of my Louis, so that his soul, if not his body, is the same size at last as my own.

I think there is a high chance that "Murder Night" went differently as seen, and I think they may have filmed it already back then, since Sam supposedly filmed on for a while with Bailey, after Jacob had left, and there was this BTS pic of it.

Now in the book Louis more or less stood by as Claudia went and stabbed Lestat - I do think that this might have happened here as well. Since they said they would revisit murder night... I guess we might still get to see it. Or something about it at least.

Whatever it is - I bet it will be harrowing.

[holylulusworld]

Designed by pain (8)

Summary: Broken hearts are hard to put back together. 8 years ago, Dean lost something he didn’t even know he had in the first place. Will he get a second chance?

Pairing: former AU!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, past break-up, arguments, daddy Dean

A/N: This was an alternative idea for the first chapter of my Bucky story: Monster-in-law masterlist. I decided to use it for a story with Dean.

Designed by pain masterlist

Designed by pain (7) 

Dean looks at you, silently apologizing for messing up his chance to talk to you. Your son was all over the stranger he invited to your home.

Now you try to find a way to get Dean and his brother out of your house. Sam tried to help. He called every hotel and bed and breakfast in your area, but no one had a free room for the night.

You sigh, deeply and exasperated. You’re tired and wound up by your unexpected encounter with your former lover. 

All you wanted was to forget about your meeting with him in the States and go back to your life.

If not for your son being overly excited to talk some more with Dean, you’d call Ketch to have your back in this. He’s your best friend, an ally, and the brother you never had.

“Not even for tonight?” Sam sighs too and hangs up again. He looks at you and shakes his head. “Y/N, I’m sorry. I tried anything but there is no free room for tonight or the next days.”

“We are having an important exhibition next week, and it’s the busiest time. Tourists all over town, exploring and annoying…” You bite your tongue, and huff. “You can both have the guest room.”

“There is only one bed,” your son says while stuffing more food into his mouth. He chews loudly and burps.

“Michael!” You tut. “What has gotten into you?” You’re too tired to let your son walk all over you and your feelings too. 

“A real man does that!” He argues and crosses his arms over his chest.

“No,” Dean jumps in. “A real man respects the person taking care of him. Especially when the person is his mother. He will not do such a thing after she has made sure he’s well-fed and happy.”

Michael pouts, and sniffs. “I’m sorry Mom. I won’t do it again.”

“Good. Now you will go and wash your hands, brush your teeth, and get ready for bed. The day was long, and you bugged your mom with the toad and me,” Dean gets up from his chair and points toward the door. “You’re lucky you’ve got a great mom. Not everyone is so lucky.”

You watch Dean handle your son while you try not to scream at him. How dare he act like a father only to get you to talk to him? 

“Uh-Y/N,” Dean nervously stammers. “I’m sorry I spent so much time with Michael. I came here to explain a few things.”

“Dean, I’m beat up and not in the mood for more lies. Let’s just leave the past behind. Get on a plane, leave this continent, and forget we ever met.”

“I-I believed you didn’t want me anymore,” he says before you can walk out of the room. “I came back to our room and found the ring. There was no note. Anger got the best out of me. I gave up without knowing about the baby or that you wanted me to go after.”

“How many more times do I have to tell you that I left a note,” you snap at Dean and throw your hands up. “Do you still want to pretend I’m the villain in this story?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “It was my mother. Sam and I talked to her before coming here. She finally admitted that it was her stealing the note.” Dean drops his gaze. “If not for Sam, I’d never found the guts to confront her. I’m so fucking sorry.

Dean steps closer. He looks at you, silently pleading with you to not kick him out before he gets the chance to at least apologize for all the things he did in the past and today.

“Did she tell you what I wrote?” You ask while keeping a close eye on Dean. He tends to overstep and get physical. If he hugs you like he used to do, you are done for.

“No,” he wipes his eyes. “We tried anything, but she refused to tell us. I assume you told me about your pregnancy and wanted me to man up and not be an idiot.”

“You’re an idiot, that’s correct,” you snap, struggling to hide the grin wanting to fight its way on your face. “I guess the note wouldn’t have changed a thing. You still ignored me, and let your mother treat me like shit. You were all over that ex of yours too.”

“I was drunk,” he raises his hand before you can tell him this doesn’t matter. “I know this is no excuse for acting like I did that night. But, you must believe me, if I knew about the baby…” Dean sniffs and drops his head, “I would’ve followed you to the ends of the earth.”

Sam awkwardly sneaks inside the room to get his bag. “I’ll retreat and try to call a few hotels again. Maybe I forgot some.”

“The guest room has a bed and a couch,” you wince as you must admit the lie you sold them so easily. 

“Sneaky,” Dean grins. He chuckles and winks at his brother. “I guess we don’t need to cuddle tonight, Sammy. I hope you’re not disappointed.”

“Jerk,” Sam grumbles before leaving the room. “Goodnight, Y/N. I’m sorry you have to endure my brother’s presence. Be patient. He’s an idiot and has abandonment issues.”

“BITCH!” Dean bites back. “Who asked you?”

“Who came to me, desperate and crying? You wanted me to help, so I help,” Sam huffs. “Don’t fuck this up too. I’m done watching you waste your life.”

“Sammy…” 

You watch Sam leave, swallowing thickly. “Do you still want to know what the note said?”

Dean fights the lump in his throat but nods. “Yeah…”

“Fine,” you turn around to grab your notebook and a pencil. You rewrite the lines and push the piece of paper in his hands. “It’s late, and I’m going to bed now.”

Dean looks at the piece of paper in his hand. He reads the lines, feeling his heart break all over again…

One night of passion, a life-long responsibility.  This is your decision. Are you in or out?  I got a job offer in London and will accept it if you don’t want to be a father yet (or at all).  If you are still the man you made me believe you are, call me tomorrow. If not, have a nice life…

Part 9

[spookberry]

I know you’re doing Monster High lines, but I was wondering, how do you think Danny would look as a skullector doll

I've thought about this before actually, cuz it totally depends on the line yeah. There's Haunt Couture and Haunt Couture Midnight Runways, but also you also have like the classic skullectors that arent MH characters at all but more iconic horror films. There's also the Howliday dolls, SDCC, Fang Vote, and the Fang Club too. Plus all the misc designer dolls.

Classic Skullector: It'd have to be a two pack I think, not that its unheard of to have a singular dolls(Dracula, Black Lagoon, Pennywise, Greta etc) I just think it'd be an interesting avenue to include Vlad. The thing with these is they tend to be genderbends. there's only two male skullector dolls to date, Jack Skellington and Frankensteins monster.... Fem Vlad in the older sister body mold would be sick as hell imo. technically you could then put like, Danielle with him instead of Danny but knowing mattel they'd probably just say its a genderbent danny regardless. would be funny if they put him in the little sister body mold on top of that so theres this big height difference lol

Haunt Couture is meant to take inspiration from the original dolls but elevated in a modern way as well as bridging the gap a bit between g1 and g3. Also the HC dolls are the ghouls as seniors rather than sophomores. So for Danny I'd think about how I'd imagine him to be like at 17/18 and how I could elevate his casual looks to something a little more designed. (Midnight Runways I'd have to think more on)

Howliday Doll: personally I'd prefer this as like, a halloween take on Howliday. Give him an outfit that references the Fright Knight, it's gotta be more glammed up cuz howliday dolls tend to be like fancy dresses. But like a little suit with a purple cape and like the fright knights sword as a tie or something, it could be sick.

another Howliday option would probably be a valentines date 2pack but i hate thinking about this cuz I know it'd be him and sam :( (Him and Valerie two pack though ?????? Oh i'd lose my MIND)

OBVIOUSLY an SDCC doll would have to be about the ultimate enemy. There's no way around that. Either it would Be buff future phantom or some sort of decked out fusion state. Where its like a base Danny doll but the fits super overdetailed.

arguably a cool sdcc two pack would be a regular danny and also tua. I could also see them make a Super and Fun two pack for SDCC! SDCC skullectors tend to play around more. They made a ghostbuster Frankie in 2016.

Fang Vote, Fang Club, and other misc designer dolls could be whatever, they're usually themed. A fun Fang Vote one could be like a ghost king themed danny where the different accessory choices lean into different headcanons.... this would actually be pretty fun to do just on tumblr I should try that out.

[localsharkcryptid]

you can make both always. I love the concepts of boths designs for cdream. One bc it's shocking seeing the guy that destroyed countries and scared everyone into thinking he's a monter, just being a human like everyone in all senses.

And the other bc it's actually cool to challenge the ideas we have and how it's easy to dehumanize things that look different from the standards qe have. And how people don't think someone can be vulnerable or hurt when does not look close to what we think as "vulnerable".

Cdream fits so well with either design it's hard to choose i get You struggled sm

You get it Anon, you get it

On the one hand, Dream being human - just a guy who has made himself larger than life and flaunts this persona of him being the villain and a threat, is so satisfying during the staged finale in particular. The person behind the mask is just a 20 something guy. He's young. He's human. He's human and is constantly treated as lesser. It's an excellent narrative for the story and adds a LOT to the guy who's POV we never get. I do love any Dream that is just a guy for that choice alone.

Though hybrid Dream, GOD, it writes a slightly different story that's just as compelling. Admittedly I almost always fall back into writing him as a hybrid, and it's without a doubt my favorite for the variety AND the reasons you listed as well as some of my own.

Cause usually, regardless of who it is, there's a decent amount of other hybrids on the server, it's established that they are at the least uncommon - but most likely society still follows a similar status quo to us on how they judge. There are unspoken rules of society for the hybrids that are 'dangerous', that you don't bear your natural weapons, you don't do anything to make others uncomfortable, you must conform to the comforts of others. It's all subtext and undertones, rules never spoken. Societal Conventions the loathed.

I'd like to think, with my Dream who's a chimera - based on the combination of a Florida Bobcat, General Ambiguous Serpent Creature & a Bongo/Forest Antelope (taking that last one from my buddy Charlie cause it's just so silly) - that he detests such things and has fought his whole life to ignore them, he wants to be accepted for ALL that he is, he doesn't want to bend to rules that paint him as dangerous and untrustworthy if he doesn't adhere to shit that people don't even talk about. This is without a doubt why the server in its early days is so important to him, cause he doesn't need to hide, his friends accept him and could care less about what he is. He's not a monster, he's a friend, he's a companion. They care about who he is - not what he is. Even if his reputation from the manhunt days proceeds him. The mask only becomes a courtesy when new people show up, to hide his face - not for their sake, but for his own anonymity that ties back to the Manhunt reputation, it is not to hide his fangs despite what others may think.

Then there's the thing of him being shoved into this box cause of what he is, and it makes it so easy for others to dehumanize him - to villainize - to justify. Yes, he's done bad things, he's done horrible acts and it's all too easy for people to say "it's in his nature" than to acknowledge HIS perspective and reasons, to even consider that maybe, just maybe he was simply pushed too far. A snake kicked one too many times. And unfortunately every single time he's forced to or tries to defend himself with the only language anyone understands, violence, it's just more 'justification' that he cannot change and is eternally a danger.

It also adds another layer of parallels between him and Sam - Who in my interpretation has done everything he can to fit in with society, to prove he's not a monster or anything of the like, he's a good guy. Unfortunately as we all know, that line of thinking goes to Sam's head in the end, and he becomes a monster for reasons that have nothing to do with him being a creeper hybrid. And that's not even TOUCHING Rivals Duo and how they mirror each other.

---

I could say SOOOO much more but I think you get the gist - I generally just have such a soft spot for characters who look different/have certain features and are shunned by society for it in one way or another + plus the whole motif of characters who struggle to change their ways cause it's the only thing that works - At the end of the day I'll be sticking with the hybrid take, for sure, I was just stuck in my own head thinking it over for a minute XD

[deancashorrorfest]

Step right up to another wondrous round of DeanCas Horrorfest! The writers and the artists have collaborated to make this year one for the history books. We've got ghouls, we've got monsters, we've got blood, we've got gay love --- And when I say you shouldn't miss this, I mean you really don't want to miss this collection of spooky stories... you really don't know what could happen if you do 🤡🔪 I'd like to thank all our contributors for keeping the spirit of samhain alive and well. DeanCas Horrorfest would be nothing without enthusiastic cult members participants like you. ❤ So, without further ado...

You Better Not Stay || Rated E

story by @friendofcarlotta with art by @demeters-sketchbook

Recent high school graduates Dean Winchester and Castiel Novak have been friends since childhood, and dating in secret for a little over a year. But their relationship has an expiration date: Cas is leaving town, and Dean… well, Dean isn’t. Not with his dad breathing down his neck and a family business to run. 

For their final date, Dean takes Cas to the old skating rink where they used to spend time as kids. What Dean doesn’t know is that when the rink closed down, something else took up residence there. And it won’t let them go without a fight. Link to Fic || Link to Art

The (After) Life of the Party || Rated M

story by @thebatmandiaries with art by @milfycas

After a fight with Sam one night, Dean wakes up in a world he is unfamiliar with. This world only has one rule: kill or be killed. As a designated Killer, he must kill all the Survivors before they have a chance to complete their task. If he doesn’t, he ruins the risk of becoming a Survivor himself. With the help of Charlie and Benny, other Killers, he slowly finds his footing in the new world he was thrust into. If only there wasn’t a strange blue eyed man to distract him… Link to Fic || Link to Art

Danger In The Mirror || Rated M

story by @dwinchester1979 with art by @keikakudom

Castiel is pulled through the mirror into a nightmare. Now his husband has to cover for his mysterious missing presence as he desperately tries to get Castiel back. Can they figure out the secret of the mirror before time runs out, or will Castiel have to face the girl with the silver dagger all alone?  Link to Fic || Link to Art

The Beginning || Rated E

story by @valleydean with art by @hawkland

One year ago, soon after Lucifer was freed from the Cage, Dean and Sam parted ways. Since then, Dean has been hunting on his own and, along with Cas despite his declining grace, searching for a way to prevent the apocalypse. When the outbreak of the Croatoan virus begins, Dean and Cas head to Bobby’s to plan their next move. On the way, as the contagion rapidly spreads through America, they must contend with the rabid infected, martial law, and humans who will do anything to ensure their own survival. Link to Fic || Link to Art

Clutch || Rated M

story by @dogfishmonger with art by @dolgoyangi

Dean is a normal, stable man in his 20s: He has a job. He has a boyfriend of three years, even if they're on the rocks. He has a little brother in pre-law. There are, simultaneously, things in his upbringing that he simply isn't supposed to question: His father's unexplained, undefined trips out of state. His mother's death. The body he once found in the basement. When Sam runs off in search of answers, Dean and Cas head east to find him. But after catching up with him, something's... different. Wrong. Dean and Cas are at odds—again—with Dean believing that Sam could be in danger, and Cas suspicious that Sam is the danger. Returning to normalcy will involve more digging into forbidden territory than Dean was ever prepared for. In the end, he doesn't even know if it was worth it. They're left with just as many questions as answers, and the answers they do have are ugly, insidious things, glistening oil-spill black and undulating. Link to Fic || Link to Art

The Void Within || Rated E

story by @preetkiran1016 with art by @sketcheun

Dean's still getting used to the ache of loss and grief burning a hole into his chest. Still not used to the empty space where his brothers used to be. His life is a day to day drudgery, the eternal crawl, and since Cas broke up with him, he's not quite sure what he's got left to stick around for. When Jack and Claire go missing, well, he can't just sit back and watch. Digging deeper, Dean finds himself caught in the middle of a complicated web he can't hope to begin to untangle. Missing Kids, Doomsday Cults, and the sudden return of Castiel in his life have Dean spiraling, even with his trusted Service Dog, Miracle, by his side. But the one question remains, above all others- Who were the Men of Letters, and what were they doing in Lawrence? Dean doesn't think he's going to like the answer. Link to Fic || Link to Art

The Crawling Dark || Rated T

story by @sylvanfreckles with art by @cactus-79

Dean was hoping for a straightforward case, something that would let him and Castiel have a little private time together. But what they found in the caves beneath Delving, Colorado was a stinking labyrinth of a death and decay, with an ancient horror at its heart. At the mercy of the darkness around them, Dean and Castiel must face a creature of immeasurable strength and insatiable hunger, with light as their only salvation. After all, it is better to light a candle than to curse the crawling dark. Link to Fic || Link to Art

Apres Moi, Le Deluge || Rated M

story by @folkbloodbaths with art by @an-android-in-a-tutu

Dean and Sam are on a camping trip, and they haven’t been home in a few days. When a sudden rainstorm and an injured ankle have them seeking shelter, an abandoned ranger’s cabin offers an unexpected port in the storm. Except, the abandoned cabin isn’t abandoned. Is its occupant, Castiel, just a recluse, or is he someone — or something — more sinister? Dean can’t help but feel drawn to him, even as he begins to have strange and terrible dreams about rising flood waters and a canopy of billowing black wings. And still, the rain continues to fall. Link to Fic || Link to Art (cw for flashing gif)

For Crying Out Loud || Rated M

story by @rowanspn with art by @solstheimart

Their relationship is perfect. At least, it was once. After a harrowing rescue from the depth of the Empty, a heartfelt reunion, and a breath of reciprocation, Castiel and Dean started to live life as they deserved. However, every Winchester knows that happiness does not stay long, not for that bloodline anyway. One night, following a fight worse than ever before, a terrible accident rips Castiel's life, and heart, in two. The guilt threatens to consume him but there is something far darker hiding in the shadows of his home. Will Castiel find a way to survive the ache in his chest or will the evil within his lonely walls kill him before it gets the chance? Link to Fic || Link to Art

Shall We Begin Again? || Rated E

story by @livingonaprayerstiel with art by @blanchescarlettm

Castiel is rescued from the Empty and wants to pick up where he left off with Dean. But, it is soon revealed that the Empty is not as gone as it seems. Castiel will have to find out who or what can be trusted as he acclimates to his new life. Link to Fic || Link to Art

Tenebrous || Rated E

story by @deancodedcastielenby with art by @hawkland

The war is over, Chuck is done and it's now the time where the Winchesters get peace... or is it. The war against God may be over, but that doesn't mean smooth sailing. Jack promises to be hands off, but there is a storm coming almost 12 years in the making. Sam knows something is wrong with Dean, it started out small, but now.... now it's become a problem so he enlists the aid of Rowena and Eileen, the only ones he can count on, to help him solve the mystery of Dean Winchester before its too late. Link to Fic || Link to Art

Conversion || Rated E

story by @bleuzombie with art by @nickelkeep

In order to avoid a jail sentence trans man Dean agrees to attend religious-based residential treatment for 90 days. Dean fights to maintain his sense of self as he is attacked mentally, and physically, and fights to protect his new friends Charlie and Castiel. Soon the treatment turns to torture. Jail would have been preferable. Link to Fic || Link to Art

The Elevator Game || Rated E

story by @motherofdragonflies with art by @xfancyfranart

The game is simple. Get in an elevator, and follow the rules. If you follow them correctly, the elevator will rise and when the doors open, they will open onto a world that is not your own. When his brother goes missing after investigating the death of a teenage girl in a hotel in St. Louis, Dean Winchester is dismayed to discover it involved an internet legend called “the Elevator Game”. He’s even more dismayed when Castiel—who walked away weeks ago and hasn’t been returning Dean’s calls—shows up, also looking for Sam. Dean doesn’t want to work with Castiel, and Castiel doesn’t seem thrilled about working with him, either. Can they put their differences aside when they discover that Sam disappeared after playing the Elevator Game? Will Dean and Castiel play the game and travel to the Other World themselves? Will they find Sam before it's too late? The choice, dear reader, is yours. You are in control of the story. But choose wisely, for once you play the Elevator Game, things may never be the same again. Link to Fic || Link to Art

Like Ivy || Rated E

story by @abi-cosmos with art by @soloarcana

Dean Winchester was raised to be a killer, but after losing his brother Sam, he could do with a chance to lay low and rest up. Luckily, a 'roommate wanted' advertisement stuck to the window of a coffee shop leads him to Castiel, a professor at a local college who offers him three weeks' accommodation. At first, Castiel gets under Dean's skin, but they soon develop a friendship within the isolated house they're living in. Despite how haunted he is by his past, or how Castiel seems able to read his mind, Dean feels drawn to him and can't help but take things further. But Dean isn't the only one with secrets, and the line between friendship, love, and obsession gets bloody and blurry. Link to Fic || Link to Art

Rough Trade || Rated E

story by @squirrelofcelestialintent with art by @alicetallula

Dean is used to doing what he has to in order to get by, especially whenever his tough, temperamental father kicks him out during one of his rages. Even if it means getting on his knees for a little extra cash. He can take care of himself. He always knew the dangers of a trick going sideways, and he accepted it. What he didn’t expect was for someone to burst out of the darkness and save his sorry ass. Least of all a weird, nerdy little dude who seems to have just as many secrets as Dean and doesn’t know how to use a vending machine. Dean has street smarts and Castiel has (a little) cash. They’re both headed for the west coast to find their families. Teaming up seems like a safe bet. But the more time Dean spends with Cas, the weirder he seems. And the more he suspects that what he saw Cas do to his attacker on the day that he saved him - the terrible, inhuman thing - wasn’t a trauma induced hallucination after all. Screw it. With someone on their tail, Dean’s going to find out who his real enemies are soon enough. Link to Fic || Link to Art

Autumn Obscurum || Rated M

story by @xiejie-liubo with art by @hawaii-shirt-queer

Bartholomew's Bend is a quiet, ordinary place where ordinary people live their ordinary lives. Nothing of note ever happens, and all of the citizens are content to keep it that way. However, their tranquility is shattered when a series of disappearances startles the town's denizens, coinciding with the arrival of the Carnivale Obscurum and its proprietors, Asmodeus and Sands. Inspired by Ray Bradbury's Something Wicked This Way Comes Link to Fic || Link to Art

Can You See Me? || Rated T

story by @kingdumbass with art by @ephemerastardust

Sioux Falls, South Dakota. 1995. After being stowed with their Uncle Bobby for the foreseeable future, Dean and Sam set out to make the most of their summer ‘vacation’. When they aren’t filling warm afternoons splashing in the creek, riding their bicycles, or suffering through old TV reruns, they’re in for cleanup duty.  Namely, sorting through all of Bobby’s old crap.  One day, while rummaging through the long-forgotten attic, Sam discovers an antique spirit board and convinces a skeptical Dean to try summoning a spirit. The results of which turn out to be a little more supernatural than Dean bargained for. Link to Fic || Link to Art

Link to Ao3 Collection

Happy Halloween! 🎃👻

[mist-touchedxiv]

Rating: 18+

Name: Loksen Tyr

Race: Viera | Veena

Patron Deity: Oschon

Hometown: Skatay Range | Kópavogur

Age: 75+

Height: 6'1"

Weight: 198 lb

Hair: Black with unusual natural blue streaks

Eyes: Aether blue

Gender: Male (he/him)

Orientation: Heterosexual

Marital Status: Single

Occupation: Formerly Wood-warder, slave

Currently Adventurer

Job: SAM/ARC/GNB

Favorite Color: Blue

Smoking: Yes, occasionally. Prefers using a kiseru. Blends own tobacco, typically with vanilla. The smell of smoked tobacco can help dull his already potent Vieran sense of smell if he feels overwhelmed

Drinking: Yes. Loves Vieran aquavit and Mjød, but hasn't encountered either in years. Due to spending time in Hingashi enjoys sake and often carries a flask, which he has been known to use as a weapon

Diet: Omnivore

Hobbies: Whittling, archery, drinking and eating, traveling, fishing, mahjong, reading Vieran poetry, camping

Personality: Reserved, almost aloof. Intense. Helpful. Honorable. His noble heart and wanderlust belies a quiet guilt.

Distinguishing Features: Vieran male. Lotta blue. Speaks Eorzean with a noticeable but pleasant accent akin to Finnish. Faded scars across his back and torso. Brand on the back of neck to identify him as a Garlean prisoner, usually covered by hair.

Löksen was a typical Wood-warder many years ago, until the day the Garlean empire attacked Dalmasca. During a periodic visit to his home village, hearing disturbing rumors that Garlemald had set eyes on Dalmasca. Having proven to be a great archer, the leaders urged him and a small group of other Wood-warders to make a trip to Dalmasca to convince the Viera living in the city to come home.

Ultimately, they failed. Having scarcely arrived in the foreign city, it was overrun by Garlean forces and the other men were killed in the ensuing battles and Löksen taken prisoner for several years. During his imprisonment at a Garlean labor camp, Löksen was a target of fascination and sometimes ridicule as a rare male of an already elusive people. His Wood-warder background prepared him for the harsh conditions of the camp and helped him survive. His time in the camp also introduced him to a variety of people and cultures that he never would have encountered otherwise. Imprisoned Sharlayan scholars taught him the Eorzean language, an old Hingan woman taught him the way of the samurai, a pair of Lalafell smugglers regaled him with stories of Ul'dah, among others.

Eventually, the camp was inadvertently liberated by Bahamut's rampage and during the chaos, Löksen fought and killed the Garlean officer who had served as a tormentor and overseer and took their gunblade as a trophy that he carries with him.

Now he wanders Etheirys partly as an adventurer inspired by the stories of his fellow inmates about the diverse lands they came from, but also to try to escape a sense of guilt for failing his people in Dalmasca and trying to seek solace.

RP Hooks

Hey there, mun here. I'm pretty flexible on how to start interactions. I'm completely open to discussing things or just go with the flow, provided you start of course.

I designed Loksen to essentially be a support character. He's not a WoL, he's not blessed with Echo. Honestly, my goal with him is to bring texture and enhance YOUR story. I suppose I'm more focused on being a character than a protag, I guess.

He's got his own little stories, but I'm here to make friends and try my hand at a creative outlet that I haven't done in several years.

Anyways, here's some possibilities!

Yojimbo: A wandering warrior of no small skill. Something need doing? Body? Guarded. Bounties? Hunted. Monsters? Slain. Need a courier because you can't deliver through regular services? He's got legs.

Animal-lover: He will pet the animals.

Tarzan Boy: You can take the Wood-warder out of the woods, but you can't take the warder out... of... the... Well, Loksen prefers to be out in nature when he gets the chance and he can be a bit wild. Maybe you encounter him out in the Shroud climbing amongst the trees and foraging for food.

"Where'd You Get That?!": As a samurai, Loksen carries an extremely unusual blade: the gunblade of a Primus Ordinarius of exquisite craftsmanship. Sure to draw the attention of any Garleans affiliated character. It has been modified to be suited for fighting in the manner of the legendary Hingashi warrior tradition.

About the RPer

Cishet • M • 30+ • North America Central Time Zone • Weird, but well-meaning

[daughterofcain-67]

𝕽𝖆𝖎𝖘𝖊𝖉 𝖎𝖓 𝕭𝖑𝖔𝖔𝖉 (𝔭𝔱7)

(Dean Winchester x Female Reader)

(masterlist)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Dean has now become a demon and he’s convinced you to travel with Crowley and himself. Afterwards, you and Crowley notice the changes Dean is going through and Crowley convinces you to try and persuade Dean to try and be a little less cocky with his killing sprees and tone things down a bit. How far are you willing to go with Dean and his downward spiral into his newfound demonic nature?

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: implied smut, no graphic detail, intimate negotiations, Dean and the reader killing a demon… I think that’s it? This chapter’s a little shorter than the last couple of chapters.

You were back in Cincinnati where this story began for you. Your clients at your little tattoo shop wondered where you had been all this time and you simply said you needed a short hiatus. Of course you couldn’t tell them the truth with this sort of thing. How could you? What kind of a normal human in their right mind would believe you when you say you had been helping two monster hunters in an angelic war?

Yet you were still replaying the events of two days ago in your head.

Dean Winchester’s death affected you more than you thought that it would. It was ridiculous, honestly, especially since you were still hurt by the idea of the Winchesters using you and tossing you aside so easily one day like they did to Crowley. You hated that you were even feeling the way that you did.

In order to distract yourself from your thoughts of your previous adventure, you went right back to work. You were drowning yourself in client’s designs and other tattoos or piercings. Your work was enough to keep you occupied at least for the time being.

You were sitting in your chair while you were working on a tattoo on someone’s back. The lady in front of her had asked for different colored dragons along with different jewels of the birth months for the loved ones that had passed on. You were focusing on the delicate details as much as you could while you listened to the music in your building.

“Y/N? Can I ask you something?” Your client asked, causing you to hum and thus giving her a signal to ask.

“How come you never really talk about yourself with your clients? Like obviously there’s more to you than meets the eye. But what is your family like? Do you have any loved ones that live here? Do you have a boyfriend or some sort of significant other?”

You were a little shocked by the client’s inquiry but you supposed it gives you something to talk about to kill some time, “I don’t really talk much about family because we aren’t exactly close… My mom died several years ago but we both hated each other and I never met my father.”

“Wow… that really stinks to hear. I’m sorry. What about siblings or even lovers?”

“Neither one. I don’t have brothers or sisters and… I guess over the years no one’s caught my interest. Never wanted to look because I hear too much about people’s heart breaking over something going wrong.” You admitted.

Then you recalled the way you felt when Dean betrayed Crowley. After that your mind went to Dean’s death and Sam’s reaction. You remembered realizing just how strong humans are, and in a way you admired them. But still, you didn’t need that type of attachment, nor the sentiment.

“I’ve seen what love does to people… and I’ve seen what happens when someone you love dies. It’s not worth the attachment.”

Your answer, though seemingly logical to you, was almost unsatisfactory for the lady in front of you.

“Well that’s a pessimistic point of view, isn’t it? Sure people’s hearts break but after those heart breaks there are lessons learned. Those lessons make you stronger. It’s better to love eve with the risk of getting hurt or losing someone. Feelings aren’t a thing to be fearful of. They’re what make you human, they make you appreciate life no matter the ups and downs.”

You stopped what you were doing and listened to each word your client said. You hadn’t expected to hear some sort of lecture on emotion on someone who’s supposed to act as a canvas.

When you were finally done with the client’s tattoo, she paid you and walked out of the door. The next thing you knew it was closing time and you were still thinking about the conversation with her. Maybe she was right… Maybe caring wasn’t so bad. The Winchesters taught you a lot about humanity and you could see why even Castiel appreciated life.

The adventure you were on is in your past, though. The Winchester brothers surely wouldn’t come looking for a demon. Even if they did, you weren’t sure you’d go with them.

But the moments where Dean actually smiled at you, gave you that sense of peace, making you forget about the eternal pain of what you were cursed with.. those moments stuck with you even if they were only a handful of moments.

Then you remembered the vision with your mother. What if you were becoming weak after all? You were learning to appreciate everything and yet those murderous urges were still there. You couldn’t help that. But what would happen if you chose to be human after all? Was an option like that even possible for you? And would you go to the bunker?

You shook those ideas from your head. That had to be the stupidest idea you’d ever come up with… being human to be with the Winchesters again. Even if you decided to be human, they would never take you.

While you were cleaning up your shop, you heard the door open. You must’ve forgotten to lock the door, so when you turned to see who was entering your shop you were shocked to see who was there.

“Dean?”

“Hey, Sweetheart.”

The next thing you knew, Dean had his hand on your hip and he pulled you closer, taking you by surprise. Was Dean always some kind of ladies man - or acted like it? That was something Sam hadn’t told you about when you met the boys. But that was when you realized there was something off about him.

“You’ve changed….”

Then you watched him begin to smirk before you saw the way his eyes turned black, realizing that the mark finally changed him to what it wanted him to be. “You like the new me? I think it’s starting to grow on me a bit.”

He certainly had changed, He wasn’t the same Dean that you had been thinking of earlier that day when your client was giving you that pep talk. You knew the mark wouldn’t let Dean die, you knew that inevitably he would become a demon, but you didn’t know that it would happen this fast.

“What are you doing here, anyway? I told you not to look for me, remember? Just because you’re a demon doesn’t mean I wanted to see you again.” You said, pulling away and crossing your arms over your chest.

“Well, I’ve got a bit of a proposition for you.” Dean said, then he pulled out The First Blade.

“Where did you get that? I left it behind after your fight…”

“Crowley retrieved it and brought it back to me.” He spoke, “Now, about that proposition…”

“I’m listening?”

“Come with me. I left Sam at the bunker and told him not to look for me. He’d hold me back from all the fun stuff we could do. We could live care free, no regrets and nothing to hold us back from doing whatever we want to do.” He said as he took your hand and he handed you the blade.

Once you felt the blade again you remembered how good it felt to stab Metatron even if he hadn’t died. All of those things Sam and Dean taught you were nice and all, but you remembered the warning from your mother. When you were learning about humanity, maybe you were forgetting what you were meant to be. Now that Dean was a demon too, what would be so wrong with killing together?

You were conflicted, did you want to hold on to the lessons you’ve learned from the Winchesters or throw all of it away and forget about it?

You looked down at the blade and you could feel Dean’s gaze on you as if waiting for an answer, “How do I know you won’t just use me like you did Crowley when you were human?”

“Is that what’s holding you back? Please, that was just something I had to say to get Sam off my back to let me use the blade. Do you really think it matters how it’s done?” He asked you and you sighed for a moment before looking up at the taller demon again.

“Fine, I’ll go.”

Three months have gone by since Dean found you in your tattoo parlor. Obviously you had to shut down since you wouldn’t be there and you didn’t have an apprentice or anything to take over.

Needless to say, you had succumbed to your demonic nature and embraced your past but only to a certain extent. You killed but you didn’t feel quite as ruthless as you thought you would feel. It was a mixture really. It was like you were on an emotional fence ever since you left with the other two demons.

You both, much to your dismay and irritation, were traipsing around with Crowley. The King of Hell seemed to like calling your little group the Three Musketeers from Hell. It had a nice ring to it even if you did hate the man’s guts.

The three of you had been dodging and even killing Abaddon’s demons when they came after Crowley and Dean. If not that, you three were in bars, you would watch the other two demons play pool with humans for money, goose ball, they had the time of their lives and you could tell Crowley was having a ball having a Winchester by his side.

You were watching Dean in one of the many bars you two had gone to over the span of these few months. He was singing karaoke and you were finding out with a quickness that Dean wasn’t very good at it when he was drunk. If he wasn’t singing to make a human’s ears bleed, you he typically slept with as many girls as he wanted to.

He clearly wasn’t joking when he said he wouldn’t be held back.

Typically, however, whenever Dean was done slumming it with some slutty blonde in a skin tight dress you would take the opportunity to get your fill of the first blade. Naturally Dean wouldn’t know too much about your own fun you had with the humans. You knew he wouldn’t care if you killed them or not, he just didn’t really have enough interest to ask so you had some fun of your own.

And it was delightfully therapeutic to take out your frustrations of your internal struggles on these humans.

“What’s got you all lost in thought, Chipmunk?” Crowley asked you, causing you to turn towards him.

“When did you get- oh why do I even ask?” You rolled your eyes and watched as Dean was being escorted off the stage and he made his way back to the bar.

“Wait - since when do you call me Chipmunk?”

“Eh, it was similar enough to the squirrel. You’re close enough to Dean. Might as well give it a shot.”

“Okay well I’ll cut out your tongue if you call me that again.” You said, causing Crowley to put his hands up in defense.

“Alright, alright. Point taken.” He said, “Just wanted to talk about these recent developments with Dean.”

You lifted a brow as you took a sip of some beer that you’d been drinking that night while the other demon spoke, “You aren’t the only one that thinks he’s taking things a bit far with his carelessness. We need to find a way to harness it.”

“We? Oh no, you were the one that got him into this mess in the first place. So you get to be the one that finds a way to harness it.”

“You know he won’t listen to reason. The only one he’d listen to is most likely you. Especially since you two have some kind of chemistry. Maybe if he doesn’t score with one of the locals tonight, you could use your… feminine charms.”

“What makes you think that I’d even be willing to use those certain charms you’re suggesting?” You asked and Crowley motioned to Dean who was already starting to get himself into trouble with security. He was already getting into a fight and they had to call more than one security guard to assist.

“Because he seems to respond more with action than words.” He answered.

“And what exactly are you wanting me to tell him or persuade him to do?”

“Tell him he’d get a lot more satisfaction working with me instead of slumming it in these bars. I’ll give you both more details if he’s willing to comply.” He continued as he buttoned up his jacket, preparing to leave.

“I know you’ve been putting on more of an act to pretend you’re, what the Winchesters say, full metal demon. But I know you’ve changed ever since your first encounter with the Winchesters. You may be one hell of a murderer but you’re a lousy liar. You’re more like your father than your mother.” He said and he looked down at you.

“Don’t take that as weakness. Your father, even though he is the Father of Murder and the king of his trade, he still cared and he even got married because he loved. Feelings, because you know what they are like, can be used to manipulate others. How do you think demons have been able to manipulate the Winchesters over all these years? It’s through the love they have for their brothers and adopted family members.”

You listened carefully, taking each word and you recalled the conversation with the last client you ever had before Dean came to your shop. You had learned a lot from the boys, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to learn about what more of those feelings are like.

“Is it wrong to worry about Dean?” You asked and both of you watched the former hunter walking out of the bar.

“I wouldn’t say that it’s wrong. I even worry about him from time to time. Especially since he’s no longer the Squirrel I know. He’s more brazen, reckless, and he makes a hell of a mess for me to try and clean up.” He said and you let out a slight chuckle.

“Yeah, rookie demons are always so messy aren’t they?”

“That’s why I’m.. sharpening him up so to speak. So he can work on those skills of his before he gets himself killed, or turn into a full demon. He’s only half at the moment.” He said and you looked at him.

“Wait… Abaddon’s demons… you sent them?”

“Lower your voice, will you? I haven’t broken the news yet but I will eventually. It’s a means for our professional future you know.”

“Professional future?”

“Of course! I have a kingdom to run, you know. I can’t go partying around here forever. And having Dean by my side may prove to be beneficial. And the offer is extended to you as well, given you’d like the job offer.”

You scoffed for a moment, “You both just have a thing for double crossing each other, don’t you?”

“Hey, it’s sort of in my job description. You can’t expect me to be on the straight and narrow all the time.”

You chose not to respond, and you weren’t even sure if you wanted to know exactly what his plans were for this ‘professional future’ he was talking about. You didn’t really feel like asking about it either, not at the moment but you knew you had to keep this a secret from Dean, otherwise who knew how he would take it.

You and Crowley walked out of the bar to keep an eye on Dean. You started to wonder about something, “You used to be doped up on human blood, right?”

“Yes, although it clearly wasn’t my finest hour. Regrettably I think it was the lowest point of my long lasted lifetime.”

“I heard about that. Abaddon almost got the best of you then, huh?” You saw the discomfort on his face when he remembered that time but you continued anyway, “Could… could you tell me about what that was like? How much did it change you?”

“Why are you asking?”

“It’s just… I had this vision. My mother was in it and there was a human version of myself. I traded my life to save Dean’s or at least attempt to. And in the vision, my mother said that caring for anyone, especially a Winchester, would be the equivalent to some kind of torture.” You began.

“But ever since I saw the way Sam mourned for Dean when he initially died, I realized that humans… they have to be strong to deal with something like death, right? I mean, given that they aren’t hunters and constantly raise people from the dead on a regular basis.” Crowley looked at you with interest and he hummed a little.

“Well, I can admire some humans for their strength. As for what changes you can feel, well… You definitely start feeling those uncomfortable emotions like regret, maybe even worry, etc. Then there are other emotions that aren’t so bad. I’ll let you discover those on your own.” He told you.

“Now, I’ll leave you to it. Remember, we want to get Dean to harness his recklessness. Try to convince him somehow if you won’t stand in for one of the hookers he goes to the hotel with.”

The next thing you knew, he disappeared and you sighed. You honestly hated when he did that but oh well. You walked out of the bar and Dean pulled up with the Impala.

“Come on, let’s get out of this dump town already.” Dean said in his usual grumpy little grumble he had when he didn’t get his way.

“I swear, you’re just like a child. Maybe you shouldn’t even drive.”

“I can drive just fine. I can hold my liquor better than all those people in that bar.”

You just roll your eyes and got into the vehicle and stayed quiet while he drove off. Maybe Crowley was right too, maybe it wasn’t wrong to worry. You even wondered if you should call Sam.

Several hours went by and you were in Montana now from whatever state you were at before. It was still dark out since it was the early hours of the morning but you were able to make it into the hotel. You both shared a room but you groaned a little when you realized you were stuck with one bed instead of two like normal, but you tossed your little backpack and wallet to the side.

You heard a plop on the mattress followed by Dean’s groan. You supposed being in a car for so long was a bit draining even for him.

“It’s a shame there aren’t any bars open right now.” Dean said.

“There aren’t many people in the world that want to be drinking at three in the morning you know.” You said as you sat down on the bed next to him.

You could feel more movement on the mattress and you felt Dean’s presence next to you, “Yeah I guess that’s true. Everyone else is either sleeping off the booze or having their own fun.”

You felt his arm snake around your waist, causing your insides to churn. Surely the human Dean didn’t want to become something like this. Something wasn’t right but you remembered what Crowley asked you to do.

“Speaking of having our own fun…” You began as you shifted on the bed to face him better. He lifted a brow as he looked at you, “You’re being a little reckless, aren’t you?”

“Reckless, huh? How’s that?”

“Well, you’re just a little new at this demon thing and I was just thinking that maybe Crowley and I could show you how to make things… a little more clean.” You said.

“Awe, Sweetheart, you know being neat doesn’t matter that much, and it doesn’t matter how reckless I am. Did that bastard Crowley put you up to this?”

You bit down on the inside of your cheek as you tried to think. Maybe Crowley was right yet again, and you were starting to hate how he seemed to be right about some things lately, but maybe Dean really wouldn’t listen if you just talked to him. And with the way he still had a hand on you, maybe being physical would be the only way to get through to him after all.

You had to admit, you could see why some girls at the bar found him so appealing. You weren’t sure if this would be a good idea. You had no clue if there was any way that Dean would be okay with this if he was human. But if this was the way to get through to him, then maybe it was worth a shot.

You moved to where you were straddling Dean’s lap and you placed a hand on his shoulder, “Does it matter who says it? Remember, I know how that mark feels. And I know how exhilarating it is to do whatever the hell you want.” Then you carefully let your hand down before letting your fingertips graze his own mark.

You lifted his arm up and placed a kiss on his mark, then you could feel him start to lose some of the tension as he watched you before you spoke again, “On the flip side, there’s a right and a wrong way to do things so you won’t get yourself in trouble with whatever hunters come your way.”

“Don’t tell me you’re worried about my tactics. There’s nothing wrong and you know that.” Dean said as he had his free hand on your hip before scooting you up more. But then you felt his touch on your own mark. But this time was different from all of the others. It felt good when he touched it. Maybe it was because he was a demon now too. Anyway you were trying not to get distracted.

“Well, I know that Abaddon’s demons are still after you because you killed her. And personally, I love killing them with you. Kind of rejuvenating.” You said as you leaned in before you started planting kisses on his neck.

“But with you being reckless in places like gas stations or with security cameras..” You said before you held his hand, “You’ll have human Feds on you along with other demons or hunters. We can’t have that, otherwise it’ll ruin the fun of this little adventure, won’t it?”

Dean intertwined your fingers, relaxing as he felt your lips along his neck and jawline, “You really like this so called adventure, huh?” He chuckled deeply.

“I do, and that’s why we can’t let you get caught so easily.” You reminded but then you felt Dean flip you over to where you were on your back.

You could feel your heart racing as you gazed up into those gorgeous eyes of his. You nibbled on your lower lip as he took the arm with the mark and placed it beside your head while his other hand was on your hip, gradually finding its way beneath your shirt. The feeling of his fingertips touching your skin was growing more exciting, yet so wrong in so many ways.

“You’re holding something back…” Dean said and you lifted a brow.

“Am I that easy for you to read?”

“Let your desires win for tonight, Doll. The mixture between feeling right and wrong? I’ve been there. Why don’t we use tonight so you can explore that feeling.” He said and his large hand went down to your thigh, guiding it so your leg would make its way around his waist and he’d have access to your covered core.

“How did you know I had mixed feelings?”

“Because you don’t know how much human is left in me. You don’t know if the human me would be in bed with a demon. Newsflash, Doll… I’m really starting to like this little condition of mine. No regrets. So there’s nothing for you to overthink about.” He said as he dipped his head down into the crook of your neck before planting hot kisses on your skin.

“We’ve killed and tortured demons together… we’ve been traveling the road and raising hell together… why don’t we try a new aspect of this adventure you love so much and then I’ll think about toning down that recklessness you’re so worried about.”

You moved away so Dean would get off your neck and you looked up at him. You could tell that there was very little humanity left in him. If you did this, there would be no strings attached on his end after all.

“So this is the way we’re negotiating?” You asked with a chuckle and Dean smirked.

“I get the feeling you had an agenda wether we have sex or not. But I gotta tell ya… I may be open to listen if this is where it’ll go. Besides, getting you laid might help you lose some of that worry you’ve got over nothing.”

A negotiation… that’s all this would ever be for either of you.

You bit your lip before you reached up and pulled him down by the back of his neck, your lips collided as you closed your eyes. His lips tasted of cinnamon, whisky, and some cherry pie he must’ve consumed sometime that day at the bar. You could smell the alcohol and smoke from the bar but you didn’t care. You felt him nibble on your bottom lip, causing a heat rise to your cheeks. Just how experienced was he with this kind of thing?

The kiss continued to grow more heated and hungry as the two of you discarded your clothes and proceeded to explore one another in ways even you never thought imaginable…

Dean was sitting at the bar, drinking yet again after a bar fight. His knuckles were still a little bloody but he didn’t care. He could feel the stares from the patrons inside but it didn’t matter. He did what he had to do. Some random guy was being a dick to a lady and he had to defend her honor. Maybe it was a little more violent than it should have been but who cares.

He couldn’t ignore the stares of a certain demon that was there, it wasn’t you and it wasn’t Crowley.

However, he was meeting with Crowley and he just found out some news.

“You mean to tell me, you’ve been sending demons to kill me?” He asked, brows narrowing as he shifted in his seat to face the King of Hell.

“To make you sharp. If it weren’t for me sending the demon chum your way you would have been killed. The mark needs to be sustained and you need to get better at using it, otherwise..”

“Otherwise I turn into a full demon, yeah I get it. I got that six weeks ago. You lied, Crowley.” Dean said before taking a sip of his beer before he stood up.

“Who do you think you’re talking to, I’m not a saint so of course I lied.” Crowley said, “Now sit down, will you?” Dean just gave him a look, almost one of defiance as he continued to stand.

“Alright, I needed to keep you sharp for our future, of which we need to talk about.”

“Our future? Really?”

“Our professional future. If I have to spend one more night in this ‘feated party dish of broken dreams and ‘b’ ‘o’ I will cut off my own face.” Dean rolled his eyes at the dramatic remark, but the dramatic reactions are a part of Crowley’s character he supposed.

“Well I don’t know what you’re talking about because I’m good. Hell, I feel fantastic.” He said, holding his arms to his sides while he spoke. He was so sick and tired of people commenting on how they thought he was doing, questioning his skills in combat and whatnot. He wasn’t an idiot and he was tired of being treated like a child.

“Oh really? How many one hit wonders can you sing to death? How many of those stupid challenges on the menu can you consume?”

“Alright listen,” Dean said as he sat back down next to the demon, “the deal was we howl at the moon. No time stamp, no expiration date.”

“And we’ve done all of that. We’ve had our time of fun and all, and I’ll treasure these fleeting moments forever, but this is not what we should be doing for the rest of our lives. It’s time for us to accept what we are and go back to work. You, me, Y/N, the three of us.”

“Oh the Three Musketeers thing? As if…”

“Think of it, the King of Hell and Dean Winchester both by his side. Together the two of us could create the perfect Hell. We aren’t ending the party, just moving the party is all. Just a thought.” Crowley said as he got up.

“Right, and where exactly does Y/N fit into all this? She mentioned something about me being too reckless or whatever. What the hell was that about?”

“First of all, she’s more concerned about whatever none sense you’re putting yourself through than I am. I just gave a suggestion so she could help you get your head on straight. Speak to you in a way you may be able to understand after all.” Dean rolled his eyes.

“I offered a similar job offer, being by my side as well. It gives her something to live for rather than living amongst bloody humans and a Winchester that can’t get a grip of himself.” Crowley grumbled.

“Trust me, she knows I can get a grip of myself.” Dean smirked and the other demon acted like he was going to hurl.

“Please, spare me the details.”

Just as he was about to walk off, he realized there was something he should also mention to Dean, “By the way, I spoke to Moose earlier.”

“Um, what?” Dean asked and he turned around, looking at Crowley and he leaned his back against the bar counter.

“Seems he’s been tracking us for some time now. Apparently he got some phone from one of the demons you killed. Some things were said, perhaps too many things. Sorry about that. He may be here by morning.”

“So you sold me out. Perfect.”

“Look, I don’t know what’s going on with you. Y/N doesn’t know what’s going on with you. I don’t know how she feels but I know that I’m sure as hell tired of it.” He said starting to get ticked off.

“I sold you out, try doing you a damned favor. Everything I’ve done for you and for Y/N has been nothing but a favor. The mark, the First Blade, nursing you back to health, offering you a place by my side has all been a favor. Whether you see it or not.” He said, Dean simply looked at the demon and listened, not really sure if he should take it all to heart.

“Take the night. Think about it. You know where you can find me.”

Dean watched as Crowley walked away to go off who knows where.

He thought about last night with you. He figured that Crowley may have talked to you otherwise he knew you probably wouldn’t have thought to sleep with him in the first place no matter how good the night turned out to be. It was one hell of a way to get him to listen though. But he couldn’t help but wonder if you were against him too, if Sam had tried to contact you like he ended up contacting Crowley.

He stayed at that bar table for a few more hours and saw a few girls here and there he could hit on but then he saw you walking you through the door. He rolled his eyes and turned around to the bar and told the bartender to get him a refill.

“Well you look like Hell.” He heard you say and he scoffed a little.

“Did you know about Crowley’s sons of bitches coming to kill me?” He asked you as you sat next to him.

“He decided to take it upon himself to have a little discussion last night, yes.” He heard you reply and he rolled his eyes again.

“And did you know Sam’s been tracking us and now he’s looking for me?”

“No, he failed to include that detail. But are you surprised? You and Sam have this thing about going after each other for years. Of course he’s after you and you should’ve known that since the day you left.”

Dean hummed a little as he took a sip of his whisky before he looked at you again.

“So, you think I’m reckless, huh? I think Sammy’s on my tail because of those demons I killed so you may actually be right.” He said and you tilted your head a little.

“Was there any doubt?”

“You don’t want me to answer that.”

“Oh Dean… you and your trust issues.” You sighed as he watched you take a sip of your brandy.

“Can you blame me? The sex last night wasn’t even for a good time. It was just so I can dial things down a little.” He grumbled.

“For the record, even if Crowley did had something to do with it, or even if he hadn’t talked to me at all, my point would have still been the same. I’m not a liar like Crowley. I’m right about this and deep down you know it.” He heard you speak and he rolled his eyes with annoyance.

“What are you, my wife?”

“Oh shut up. If you want this howling at the moon thing with you and Crowley to continue, I get that. But a part of enjoying whatever life this is and whatever you’re deciding, at least be smart about it. Everything I said last night was to try and help you before you get yourself in trouble.”

“Fine, fine. What do you want me to say? Thanks for having a heart? You spoke your piece. Can we move on?”

He heard you sigh and when he glanced over at you again, his gaze softened a little, “Why don’t you and I get out of here? Sam’s probably on his way as we speak so we may need to get on the road again. I’d rather not have him find me and take me back to that blasted bunker.”

“You still want me to travel with you after you made the stupid assumption that I stabbed you in the back?”

“Well… Killing those demons by myself won’t be half as fun. Plus you aren’t nearly as big of a pain in the ass as Crowley.”

“Um.. thanks? I think?”

Dean got up and he tipped the bartender for the both of you and you guys got out of the bar so you could go to his Impala.

“You know… I guess I should thank you for picking me up in Ohio. This has probably been the most fun I’ve had in years.” Dean smirked a little.

“Speaking of fun.. I couldn’t help but notice we’ve had another demon with a death wish watching us the whole time we’ve been in the bar today.” He said and he watched you look up at him and it seemed to peek your interest.

“We’ve got some work to do, huh?” You asked and Dean smirked as he pulled out the First Blade.

Both of you turned around and saw a vessel that was about as tall but not quite as muscular as Dean walking towards you with an angel blade.

Dean started to fight off the demon and knocked him out before you managed to teleport the three of you to some abandoned alley where there would be no cameras around. Somewhere that wouldn’t get Dean into any kind of trouble, nice and secluded.

When the demon finally woke up, you held your hand up and pinned the demon up against the wall. Watching the demon struggle was already fun in itself.

“You and Abaddon’s followers… you know Crowley already told us he was sending you. All for the sake of exercise… He thinks you’re nothing but worthless scum. Which… you are, but I bet that makes you feel so small.” You said.

Then Dean walked over to the demon with his blade before he started to stab the demon repeatedly. You released the demon when it was initially wounded. It tried to swing at Dean but then Dean blocked the attack before pinning him against the wall and he stabbed the demon in the neck with the blade.

After a few moments of slicing and dicing with a bit of overkill, Dean stepped away from the body. His clothes were covered in blood and you looked at him. He was relentless but, it was what the mark wanted him to be.

You snapped your fingers and the demon went up in red smoke and you looked at the hunter in front of you.

“Let’s get you cleaned up. We can’t have cameras catching you all bloody.” You insisted and you snapped your fingers yet again and it was like the demon blood turned into red smoke and disappeared as well.

“There. Clean slate. That’s how you have fun killing without leaving evidence behind.” He heard you and he watched you walk away to the car, making him smirk a little.

Then, once you two made it into the Impala again you got into the car. Dean backed the car out of the parking lot and began driving away.

The first part of the ride was silent and Dean was growing lost in thought before he heard you start to speak again, “You know Sam isn’t going to stop looking for you. And you know you won’t be able to run forever.” He assumed you were referring to the discussion of Sam tracking the three of you down to find Dean.

“So?”

“So… what do you plan on doing about it if you don’t want to be found?”

“That may have to be something I think about another time. At this point I’m thinking of changing my number just to stop getting calls from the guy.”

“I just hope you know what you’re doing with your brother…”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Let’s get out of here.”

Hey there!! Thank you for reading if you’ve made it this far in the fanfiction! Sorry this chapter was a little short, it’s more of a filler chapter but there is more Demon Dean to come within the next chapters. Will Sam contact you before Dean changes for good? Or will Dean accept Crowley’s offer to stand by his side as a ruler of Hell?

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[paigegonerogue]

Here’s why the infected scene in episode 5 of TLOU works so well…

Buildup: As of episode five in the series, we’ve seen infected multiple times already, and every appearance has built up this “threat-level” of them. In the first two episodes we see both the larger scale of the infected and how scary they can be in hordes (like the driving scene and the capitol building, as well as the absolutely brilliant overlook scene), but also how threatening they can be solo (Joel and Sarah in the diner and the museum scene)… also in episode three we get Bill’s little “ehehe” from an infected death which is just as if not far more important as well.

By the time we see the infected come running out of the crater, the writers have already intentionally and precisely given us the knowledge of just how scary the infected can be.

That’s also why I’m glad they only did this type of massive battle once in the series, because once they did it, it becomes impossible to recapture that buildup and almost “unleashing” of the infected, of seeing just how scary they are.

The buildup also includes the more typical rising tension of the episode (which was, like everything else in the show, done absolutely fantastically), and the foreshadowing of the infected by both Kathleen and Henry.

Scale: The infected scene in episode 5 is by far the biggest in scale action sequence of the show. The huge amounts of infected pouring out of the rubble and the massive Bloater, as well as how many people are involved, the fighting in the background, it makes the whole battle feel huge. It leaves you in this sense of almost “awe” that so many great action sequences have.

Horror: In the sequence there are horror elements added in to make it feel scarier (complementing both of the points above). Obviously zombies are already horror-esque, but that’s not what I mean.

I feel like the best example of horror elements being incorporated into the fight is the part where Ellie is in the car. Enclosed spaces are a horror staple. Ellie being trapped in the enclosed space with an infected, and later Henry and Sam trapped under the car, transition this battle beautifully into tension-filled smaller scale sections in this massive battle, with parts so pinprick focused on the people we care most about, and how bloodthirsty and terrifying these monsters are.

We also see it in Kathleen’s shocking and gruesome death, and the power of the bloater, almost reminiscent of the predator or other near-unstoppable horror forces.

Cinematography: The lighting in the battle is so good, with the fire and darkness adding to this scary effect of the battle, as well as this extra layer of dynamism and contrast.

Also, I’m always a sucker for background fight, following characters as they navigate through violence. The way this sequence does it is also incredibly well done, with the background ever-shifting and changing, with the focus of the shot being on someone actively trying to avoid the fight and get past this living mass of gore.

The handheld style of TLOU is something I can write essays about (and I will! Post about cinematography coming soon lol) but in this sequence it makes you feel like you’re on the ground with the characters as the battle rages around you.

Monster Design: This one is self-explanatory, I’d say. The clickers, and the Bloater, my goodness the Bloater, look so incredibly good. And the way that they created this almost alien thing overtaking regular peoples bodies and turning them into monsters is incredibly amazing, and the practical effects make it look so real and detailed (they had the makeup guy who did the Night King and Vecna)

Emotional Resonance: This one’s pretty simple. The battle makes you feel things. Not just fear for the characters, though there’s definitely a lot of that, but also showcasing Joel and Ellie’s growing bond, with Ellie trusting Joel to have her back and Joel desperately trying to protect her.

It was absolutely magnificent, and an absolute feat of filmmaking.

[weasleywinchester]

Save Yourself - Ch. 19

Dean Winchester x Female Reader

Oh For One So Pure

Series Summary: “I promise.” Those two words would trap you in a life you never wanted. You are an artist, a hunter, a Winchester. And yet the pain in Dean’s eyes as demanded you live the life he wants you live, you couldn’t say no. You met the Winchesters by chance, found out they were real people. And you figured it was a once in a life time thing, but then Dean called you, and so did a new job. Both leading to the life you wanted, a family that didn’t begin or end in blood and a once in a life time love. And he said leave it and him behind, forget. But you can’t. Chapter Summary Jack is gone. Well, you know exactly where he is; with Mary in what you’ve all agreed is the Apocalypse world. Do any of you know how to get there? No. But what are Winchesters really good at? Distracting themselves with hunting. When Donna calls in a favor for hunting down a possible not-so-supernatural creep, the three of you practically leap through the phone. But this case, and the multiverse problem none of you know how to untangle, bring up some dormant feelings about what it means to be a hunter… and even more about what it means to be a Winchester.

Warnings: Cannon typical violence, some fluff, some sad feels

You’ve been a Winchester long enough to have seen some crazy shit. And you’ve been a Supernatural fan long enough to know all the crazy shit. And when Donna called in a favor to find her niece, you kinda hoped it would be the most black and white monster case you could find. And as expected it was not. Finding a black market ebay for body parts wasn’t something you thought could exist. But if there’s a market, someone will always be there to fill it.

“I can’t believe you’ve been through this.” You grimace as Doug’s temporary fangs disappear.

“At least everyone here has souls.” Dean looks over at Sam, who purses his lips together as if he wishes he could forget that whole incident. Your phone buzzes in your pocket and you quickly silence it.

“That’s the fourth time it’s rung.” Dean comments, raising a brow at you.

“Becky. I missed the last two meetings.” You confess. You were normally pretty good about warning her when you’d be busy with a hunt; but everything with Jack being so unpredictable…

“Call her back, we should be back at the bunker tomorrow.” Dean gives your hand a squeeze. You nod and walk out into the brisk night air.

“Hey, sorry about the last couple of weeks-”

“THANK GOD YOU’RE ALIVE!” She shouts into the phone. “I thought the worst when your phone kept going to voicemail.” She lets out a long sigh, taking a few deep breaths.

“I could see that.” You chuckle.

“Don’t give me a heart attack like that!”

“I’ll do better in the future.” You hold up your hand in surrender. “But what’s up?”

“I have a few design projects I thought you could brainstorm on… And Sera’s been asking about the possibility of continuing the Supernatural books?” Her voice goes an octave higher at the mention of the books.

“Send me the ideas for the stuff to design-”

“Doug, wait!” You hear Donna yell.

“I’ll get back to you about the books-” You reach for the door to go back inside when it swings open and Doug runs into you.

“Doug?” You frown as he gathers himself. “Becky, I gotta go.” You abruptly hang up, lightly grabbing Doug’s shoulder. “Hey, what’s the rush?”

He stops, looking at you over his shoulder.

“Why do you stay?” He whispers, the defeat clear in his voice.

“Well, I sure as hell wasn’t going to leave Donna high and dry-“

“Why do you stay with Dean? Knowing about the– the monsters?” He corrects. The panic rolls off of him like a fog, tendrils curling and whispering for you to get lost in it. 

“What do ya mean?”

“Your husband fights vampires, werewolves… monsters! Things that aren’t supposed to exist! How can you stay?” He harshly whispers, as if saying it too loud makes it any more true. You stare blankly at him; sure you’ve seen plenty of people shaken after their first encounter with the supernatural; but Doug? He’s had to have seen gruesome stuff in his time on the force.

“It’s his job,” you frown, “It would be the same if he were in the military or law enforcement.” You watch as he recedes into his whatever panic storm is happening in his mind. “Are you ok? Did you talk with Donna?” You place a hand on his shoulder, his whole body deflating at your touch.

“I wanted to be a cop to help folks. I didn’t sign on for monsters.” He looks off into the distance, the recent horrors he just witnessed clearly dancing in front of his eyes.

“That’s all Dean and Sam do, save people.” You smile, leaning forward until you catch his gaze. “They unfortunately didn’t have a no monster option. It’s also why Dean gets three hours of sleep a week, can drink a liquor store dry and has enough trauma that any regular person would go insane.”

“And you’re ok with that?” He scoffs, shaking his head at all the terrifying possibilities about what your words mean.

“I didn’t marry him because I think I can fix him. I love him, as he is.” You shrug, watching the thoughts churn in his head as he tries to figure out the next move. “You’re really going to give up Donna because she fights monsters?” You haven’t spent nearly as much time with Donna as you like, but the one thing you know for sure if you both will hang onto your husbands no matter the price.

“I don’t think I’m strong enough.” He whispers. You sigh, pulling him into a hug.

“She thinks you are. And so do I.” You squeeze him tight. “Can I tell you something?” You ask as you let him go. He gives you a small nod, wiping a tear away. “Leaving Donna won’t make the fear go away. It won’t stop you from looking at every person differently. It won’t change the fact that you know what lurks in the dark. But trust me when I say that having her by your side is better than any future without her.” He studies you for a moment, brain calculating all the scenarios.

“Does Dean feel that about you?” He whispers. 

The question punches you right in the gut. It should have been a simple answer. A yes of course he does, that’s why we're married. But your mouth feels like it’s full of sand. Every moment where Dean has pushed you away, told you to leave, to forget, comes rushing to the forefront. And here you stand. Telling Doug he should stay; that he should want to stay. But you have no evidence that it would be good for him; that he could continue on with his life as normal. The one thing you learned being with Dean is that you were involved with the family business whether you wanted it or not. It’s just how it went being close to a hunter.

The motel door creaks open, Sam and Donna making their way to the car.

“Ready sweetheart?” Dean asks, taking your hand.

“Ya.” You smile at him, giving his hand a squeeze as you turn back to Doug. “Talk with Donna, she deserves that. You both deserve to make a decision together.” You give Doug a small smile, letting Dean guide you to the car.

_______

One thing nice about driving with the boys is you could boot Sammy to the front and sprawl out in the back. Dean even keeps a little blanket in the trunk for you. Leather seats are three things: cold, hot or sticky. Can’t have baby makin you uncomfortable sweetheart. You smile at the memory as you stare at the back of Dean’s head. The rain gently thumps at the windows, Sammy’s fingers clacking against the keys of his laptop.

“You were a little tough on Donna back there.” Dean states, keeping his voice low to not disturb you.

“What?” Sam frowns, the clacking coming to an abrupt stop.

“Just sayin’.” Dean shrugs, taking in a deep breath. He couldn’t believe he told Donna to let Doug go; Sam, telling her to let the love of her life go. 

“Was I wrong? I mean, when has knowing us ever worked out for anyone?” His eyes flick to you as you roll to face the back of the seat.

“(Y/N)?” Dean shrugs.

“What?”

“It’s worked out for (Y/N), according to her.” Dean clarifies.

“Oh ya, I bet she always dreamed of falling in love with a guy who constantly tells her she can’t be a hunter because she could die. And who constantly makes life altering decisions for her.” Sam deadpans.

“We save people, Sam.” He points out. Save tons of people, every day, every year. That has to count for something.

“Yeah, we also get people killed, Dean. Kaia, for instance. She helped us and she died for it. And the list of (Y/N) getting hurt or almost dead isn’t exactly short.”

“Hey, look, I know you’re in some sort of a—” 

“No, no, no, don’t – don’t… You keep saying I’m in a dark place, but I’m not, Dean. Everything I’m saying is the truth. It’s our lives. And I tried to pretend it didn’t have to be. I tried to pretend (Y/N) would be safe, that we could have Mom back and Cas and – and help Jack. But we can’t. This ends one way for us, Dean. It ends bloody.”

The three of you sit in silence. Dean always told you he would go down fighting; it always seemed to be the hand he was dealt. He just never actually died, so you both had agreed that maybe that’s not the true end designed for him. But Sam giving up on the happily ever after? That was just as bad as you giving up…

“You’re the reason she holds on so tight.” He whispers, seeing Sam turn toward him out of the corner of his eye. “You told her to always keep fighting; to fight for the life she wants, to fight for me. I was prepared to let her go years ago. Prepared for my soul to ache for the rest of my life.” He accuses. “But you’re the one who said to not give her up. To fight for her. Why –”

“Maybe I shouldn’t have.” Sam interrupts. You shift in your seat, moving your blanket to muffle the sound of your heart breaking.

_______

One would think spending their whole life fighting everything that lurks in the dark would make it uncomfortable. But as Sam lays in the pitch black of his room, he feels calm. He’s embraced the fact that he lives in the dark, like some creature waiting for whatever fight is next. No searching for something to hold on to, for hope about the future.

God was no better than any other supernatural being, Mom and Jack are as good as dead… After tossing and turning he gets up, easily making his way down the hall in the dark. He stops at your studio door and listens; he can hear the faint clicking of your keyboard accompanied by a faint static noise he can only assume is music. He gently pushes the door, you’re bopping your head along to whatever’s coming through your headphones as you mess with a project on your computer.

He lets his eyes wander around the room; it’s filled with fabric, blank canvases, half painted paintings, partially done costumes and a large wall of books. This room is very much you; warm, inviting and filled with things that make you happy. It was often a safe space for him, both when you were in it and when you weren’t. You both had many late night conversations about anything that came to mind, talked through a lot of the darkness he carried with him.

“Geezus Sammy!” You jump out of your chair, nearly knocking over your water bottle. “Scared the tarts out of me!” You move it out of arms reach and slide off your headphones.

“Right, sorry.” He frowns. You tilt your head to the side, walking over to him and gently taking his hands in yours.

“You ok?” you ask. He gives you a curt nod, eyes looking anywhere but at you.

“Whatever happened to that painting, the one with the two hands holding onto each other?”

“It’s here, haven’t got around to hanging it up.” You pull it out from a stack that’s leaned against the wall, putting it up on your easel and sliding the fabric sheet off to reveal it.

“Always keep fighting.” Sam mumbles, his fingers gently tracing the words. It’s written dozens of times in the background, your perfect sloppy writing making it feel like you’re telling him to do just that.

“Sammy!” You yell over your shoulder in the general direction of his room.

“Ya?” He yells back.

“Come here!”

He pads down the hall, standing in your doorway.

“Need you to hand model with me.” You wave him over. You take one hand, having  him wrap his fingers around your wrist while you do the same. “Now pull.”

He pulls, a little too hard, and you ram into his chest.

“Not that hard Sammy!” you giggle. 

“Ok, ok… not that hard. Got it.”

He huffs in amusement at the memory. It seemed silly at the time but it’s moving to see your hand holding him up, keeping him from slipping away.

“Why is one side written upside down?”

“Because love flows both ways.” You rotate the picture so now his hand is holding yours. You slot your hand into his, leaning your head on his arm as the two of you study it.

“What if holding on was the mistake?” He asks.

“It wasn’t.” You can feel him shift against you. “I didn’t walk into this life blind Sam.” You bite down on your tongue, praying the tears not to slip down your face. “I-”

He pulls you into his arms, squeezing you tight. He has always pulled you closer; pulled you into the hunting life, into his brother’s life, into his own life. Selfish. It was the only word that came to his mind. He always thought that karma would follow through. That every single monster he and Dean put in the ground would let them have just a sliver of something good. And he was hoping it would be you. But maybe Dean was right this whole time, you’ll only end up hurt or dead.

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