#I'm gonna find a bunker now!

[ravennightbirt]

If you love a mortal their end will be horrible

Ok so this post I made two nights ago about Hob questioning the rules the Endless siblings have to follow and that was inspired by @redmalkin questioning those rules in the first place?

That was the nice version of how everything could have happened.

And It’s still swirling through my head…so enjoy the pain!

They have been in the dreaming for several days at this point. Hob had called in sick for work almost immediately. Called it a family emergency that needed him to leave the country. Thankfully the New Inn was self-sufficient and he only needed them to know that he couldn’t do extra shifts for some time. 

It had went so well, too. Just like he had thought the Endless siblings were terrifying when they worked together, truly worked together. Dream and Desire alone had figured out half of what the rules truly were supposed to be about in less than a day. 

Death and Delirium on the other hand, the two who worked closest with humans and who actually interacted with them on a regular had made plans to get their siblings to rejoining the Waking world properly, although that was mostly for Destiny and Desire. Dream was on his way there already thanks to Hob. The sentence “Hob can help us here” had fallen more than once already and he already had kissed peacefully flat and quiet evenings curled up with Dream goodbye. Not that he wouldn’t do it. 

Destiny was still quiet. They had no clue jet how to break the damn chain and make it possible for the man to do stuff on his own. The chain was reacting to everyone who tried to touch it, burning them. Which was why Despair was sitting at her big brothers feed and was looking at the thing. Hob still twitched whenever the smell of burned flesh reached him. 

Which was why the sudden change in the Dreaming hit him like a train. 

The only warning they got was Despairs agonized moan and how she fell over against Destiny before the Palace started shaking. 

Hob for his part suddenly relived the most beautiful and painful moments of his life. Holding Robyn for the first time, holding him for the last time. Elenore laughing on their wedding night, when he tried to get her to not be nervous. Elenore silent. The first kick of their baby girl. Holding her still body.

He came back to Desire gripping his arm had enough that they were drawing blood and Deliriums holding onto his other hand, babbling nonsense. 

Dream was still standing at the war table he had created once they had found the truth behind Destiny’s chain and book. It was cracked and the books and papers and everything else they had had on the table was all over the room. Death was right next to Dream not really touching him, but wanting to. She was talking asking what had happened. 

Dream didn’t even react to it. He was just standing there frozen in place. Looking in pain. 

“Brother please!” Death called out sounding close to hysterics. It finally got a reaction.

“We are not allowed to love mortals.” 

It was nothing more than a whisper, but is sounded hoarse and choked. 

“We already figured out days ago!” Desire answered. Their grip on Hob tightened. Confusion was written clearly on their face. Dream turned his head to wards them and when his eyes- just for a second- met Hobs before they slit over to Desire’s the first tear rolled down his cheek.

“I loved…” Dream trailed off, his voice breaking. He took a shaking breath of air more tears spilling down his cheeks. Death wavered as if she was realizing what he was talking about. 

“I loved him so much.” Dream croaked out. Hob felt the Dreaming wailing with pain and agony. It hurt so much. Oh god he knew this pain, he remember this pain.

“So I rejected him, cast him out. Thinking it would save…” Dream’s knees buckled and only Death already reaching out for him kept him from crumbling to the ground. 

“I rejected him thinking it would be enough. That he would make it. I made him hate me so he lived!” 

Hob felt Delirium crawl into his lap. She was whimpering and crying and talking fast than he had heard ever before. Desire on his other side was crying. Slow tears rolling down their face. Hob couldn’t see Destiny and Despair from where he was, but he heard Despairs sobs. 

“They killed my son!” Dream screamed and it rattled the whole Dreaming. The older Dreams and nightmares and other denizen of the Dreaming, Hob could feel them, could feel they sorrow and pain. They could feel Dreams pain. 

“They made me kill my son!” 

[lamentationsofalonelypotato]

It’s Not A Big Deal

Pairing: Soldier Boy x f!reader, Reader POV

Summary: Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

Tropes: Fluff, Frenemies (Dean and the Reader), Awkward Situation, Multiverse Problems.

Word Count: 3.1K (I promise I didn't mean for it to happen)

Warnings: I'm gonna label this 18+ just to be sure. There is some swearing (only a few times), Heated Kiss, Sexual Innuendo, References to Sex/Past Sex (it happens quite a bit). Soldier Boy being Soldier Boy (Everyone knows he’s a warning).

Note: This is told from Reader's perspective. Any references to the reader is made using you or your. There is minimal use of y/n. I tried my best to proofread, but nobody's perfect. If you don’t like, don’t read, but if you do like, you’re my favorite!

Internal monologue is in italics and is in first person

Main Masterlist

A/N: Okay I know that I should be working on my other fics, but I had this idea after reading an INCREDIBLE fic by @justagirlinafandomworld called "Stranded" for @jacklesversebingo and I couldn't help myself.

Sam squeals the car into the parking lot of the motel so loud that Dean and you can hear the high pitched scream of rubber on asphalt from your room on the second level.

"If he ruins those tires he's going to pay for them." Dean grumbles under his breath from where he sits at the small wooden table under the window, wiping down his gun with a clean rag. The sunlight that came streaming through dramatized the sharp angles of his jaw and the soft sleepy strands of his hair that still stuck up from when he woke up an hour ago.

"I don't know what his hurry is." You don’t look up from the worn paperback perched in your lap, gently turning the page. "If he's that eager to get back here to tell us something he should have just called."

“Maybe there was a sample sale on hair gel.” Dean laughs at his own joke and you can sense him look up from the gun to try and catch your eye, but you don't raise your gaze from the text.

“That’s pretty brave coming from someone who owns 90% of the products in that bathroom.”

“What? I do not-“

“Really? If I walk in there right now there won’t be seven different half-used deodorant sticks?”

“They’re different smells." Dean says defensively. "And shut up. I don’t comment on how many books you bring with you. Don’t know why you need to shove a million in your bag and then just buy one while you’re here.”

“Because I might not feel like reading the ones I bring. I might want to try something new. And this book,” You wave the book in your hand for emphasis. “Is very good and I don’t have it back at the bunker, and it was only two bucks!"

“But the others ones might be good too. You don’t know.” Dean sighs, looking at you like you're insane. "You just let them sit and rot in your suitcase."

Today was the last day that you would be staying in Louis, Illinois. The current case that the three of you had been working on together had been solved, which meant that the townsfolk were no longer dealing with a zombie outbreak and you were at peace to settle down on your pull out bed with a good book, taking a few moments for yourself.

You desperately needed at least five, but you also wished that you were already back in your room at the bunker.

The bed there didn't have as many springs that stuck into your back at odd angles and didn't squeak whenever you moved an inch. Your inability to find a comfortable position meant that the mattress squeaked all night long and Dean had thrown his pillow at you to make it stop. He hadn’t been pleased when you returned it back to him. Then again, you had hit him in the face with it as hard as you could when you did.

And like hell you were going to give Dean Winchester the satisfaction of sleeping in bed with him. You’d had to do that one time on a hunt where there were no extra rooms and Dean refused to let you sleep on the floor or in his car. He said that you might make it spontaneously combust.  So you'd shared the bed and learned that he was the biggest blanket hog you’d ever met, not to mention when you woke up he was spooning you and you couldn’t be certain, but you thought he had tried to cop a feel at least once.

If anything you’d maybe sleep in Sam’s bed, but the guy was so much bigger than you he took up most of the space, so you were stuck with the pull out couch.

You couldn't wait to be home. You liked going out on cases, but you liked that you had a home now, a space that was only yours, and someplace where you could shut yourself away from the world. And most importantly, away from Dean Winchester, who had been the bane of your existence since the night you met him for the first time.

Of course this wasn't too bad either. Taking a few moments of quiet for yourself while Dean cleaned his guns and sorted some of his tools in his duffle. The two of you were getting more comfortable around one another. When you’d first met there had been a lot of screaming and several "she's not going to be there is she?" and "what the hell is she doing here?" questions that Dean moaned to Sam over and over the more the three of you teamed up.

You weren't used to working with other people, well, now you were,  but before it had just been you and the endless road. But as it began to happen more and more you tried to fit comfortably into the swing of things. Dean and you would occasionally bump heads, but it happened less now than it did before. After five years you'd hoped that the two of you could be more civilized, for Sam's sake at least.

Sam and you got along much better. You didn't understand what Dean's problem was with you, or why he hated you so much. He was always correcting you, insulting you, and snatching things away from you as if you hadn't been hunting your entire life. Occasionally it wasn't that bad, like right now, but it had been much worse a few years ago.

When you'd met Dean you'd hated him, thought he was a dick, but the more the two of you spent time together on cases the more you saw that he did those things to hide what he was feeling and the more you saw how big his heart was.

You believed that your relationship now with him had progressed to a sort of symbiotic relationship, but honestly it was more like passive aggressive roommates who fight over whose turn it is to clean the dishes.

Dean still tended to get high and mighty sometimes and annoyed you without end, but you stuck around and in Sam's words "bickered like an old couple."

Sam had gone to grab some snacks and fill the tank at the gas station down the street twenty minutes ago, leaving with a joyful "Don't kill each other."

So far there were no casualties, but apart of you itched to beam Dean in the back of the head with the paperback just for a little bit of excitement.

Sam bursts into the room out of breath. "Okay I-"

"Where's the fire Sammy?" Dean sighs looking up from his gun.

"I ran into someone when I was at the gas station." Sam says it all together, as if it's one sentence.

"And?" You move your hand in a come on gesture hoping that Sam will get to the point.

"Well he's- he's-"

The man that pushes into the room past Sam is not Dean, he looks like him, but that's not why he's so familiar. He's muscular with dark brown hair that hangs a little longer than Dean's, over the top of his ears, while a few strands fall forward on his forehead. He's allowed a dark beard to cover his cheeks, but his eyes are the same piercing green that they were the last time you saw him. And if that wasn't enough for you to recognize him, the dark green superhero suit would be a dead giveaway.

Oh shit.

"Ben?" You drop your book onto the thick carpeted floor in surprise.

Two months ago you had been unwillingly transported to another reality, a reality where superheroes were real, people had powers, and where you met a version of Dean that you actually got along with better than the Dean in your reality.

You hadn't told Sam or Dean what happened between Ben and you. You weren't about to admit out loud that you actually got along with another version of Dean or admit that you found the other version of Dean aka Ben, attractive. So attractive in fact that you had spent a good amount of the time in the other universe in bed with him before you came back to your reality.

Ben doesn't respond, instead he crosses the room in several powerful strides, and hauls you up off the pull out couch.

"What are you-"

One of his hands tangles in the back of your hair, pulling your mouth against his in a furious kiss that steals your breath away and silences whatever you were going to say next. A part of you registers that Dean and Sam are still in the room, but it's quickly swept away by how it feels to kiss Ben. You hadn't forgotten him, anything but that. Sometimes you actually kind of missed him, when you were lonely or when the Dean from your universe annoyed you too much. Because Ben annoyed you too, but at least at the end of it there was a way to relieve the tension. With Dean the only place you put all your frustration was into the hunt and there were only so many times you could bash a Djinn’s head in.

Ben's tongue brushes against your bottom lip, begging for entrance, and you let him in, bringing your hands up to the back of his neck to thread into the long strands of his hair. The strands fall between your fingertips, feathering out from your grip. You moan softly into his mouth as he deepens the kiss, feeling the familiar scratch of his beard against your cheeks, and feel his hand begin to slip down your back to rest on the curve of your ass.

Well, he certainly hasn't changed.

"Fuck I missed you sweetheart." Ben murmurs against your mouth squeezing your butt to emphasize the point. "You and this sexy fucking body."

"Ben." You roll your eyes with a snort.

"What? You didn't miss me?" He raises an eyebrow, forcing his mouth into an attractive pout. "Because you certainly seemed happy to see me a second ago." His free hand gently traces your plump lower lip with the pad of your thumb.

"I did and I am happy to see you, but what are you doing here?"

"Thought so." Ben leans his head back down towards yours, ignoring your question as he tries to kiss you again, but before he can Dean interrupts.

"What the fuck is going on?" Dean shouts, standing from the table under the window, and points his gun at Ben's unprotected back. "Who the fuck are you?"

Ben half turns over his shoulder eyes flicking from the gun to Dean with a sigh. "Look the only thing that's gonna do is piss me off. And you don't want that kid."

Dean makes a face. "Who the hell are you calling kid?"

"Now why don't you two fuck off for a few hours, let me give her a proper hello." Ben turns his dark eyes back on you, cupping your chin in his large hand.

"Y/n? You want to tell us what's happening? Or who this guy is?" Sam asks, but you can't look away from Ben.

You really had missed him. Ben was even more attractive than you remembered. The day that you'd left his universe, Ben had asked you to stay, well, had asked you in his own way. He'd said that he wasn't done with you and if you had stayed he would have made it worth your while. But you had to come back. You weren’t sure how Dean and Sam would survive without you and also because the universe that Ben inhabited was more terrifying than yours, and that was saying something, given that you dealt with demons on a daily basis.

"Guys this is Ben." You clear your throat. "Ben this is Dean and Sam."

"Ben as in Soldier Boy? From the fucked up reality with the people with superpowers Ben?" Dean sputters. He lowered the gun slightly, but he's still looking from Ben to you like he's just walked in on his parents making out.

"Yes." You say it slowly, trying to find a way out, but there really isn't any way to hide this.

It's not that big a deal, is it?

Ben releases you and turns to look at Dean, eyes skating over his body. "So that's Dean?" He tilts his head to the side. "Kinda scrawny. The way you described him made me think he'd look a little more like a man and less like a fucking pussy."

"What the fuck did you just say to me?" Dean takes a step towards Ben, holding his gun steady out from his chest. You noticed that Dean did try to puff it out more after Ben's insult.

"You heard me." Ben smirks, welcoming the challenge.

"Whoa!" You step between them. "Calm down ladies there's enough Prada to go around at this sample sale."

Ben's eyes narrow in confusion at your comment, but he doesn't back down from Dean.

"I'd say that you left a few details out of your trip!" Dean shouts looking from Ben to you in disgust. "Did you sleep with me?"

"What?" You look at him like he’s crazy.

What does he mean?

"You, and him." Dean gestures wildly with the gun. "Did you sleep with me?"

"What are you talking about? No I didn't sleep with you, I slept with him and it was only once!" You shout back.

Ben clears his throat.

"Fine. A few times.” You correct with a sigh.

“But- you- him-“ Dean’s head turns from Ben to you. “Him- you-.”

“Yeah. Me and her fucked.” Ben says it slowly like Dean is a child.

Honestly he was acting a little bit like a child.

Sam is holding back his laughter behind a hand while Dean’s eye begins to twitch aggressively.

This is exactly why I didn’t tell him. They aren’t the same person! Dean is Dean and Ben is Ben. Someone who shares the same face. And probably the same other things that I’m not going to think about right now because that seems crazy.

"How many times is a few?” Dean demands.

"Why does that matter?”

"HOW MANY?" He shouts so loud that you think the people in the next room over were probably having a wonderful time listening to this soap opera.

Because it kinda did sound like one right? The main character never gets along with someone and then gets transported to another reality through a colorful portal and immediately clicks with another version of him. And-

Maybe I need to rethink my life.

"Well..." Your face scrunched up trying to count exactly how many times that you and Ben had sex. It was difficult. Not that it was hard to remember, you knew that you weren’t going to forget it anytime soon, but just the amount of times the two of you were together was more than you could count on your fingers.

"Well what? You were there for five days!"

"I mean..." You shrug.

“Why?” Dean groans pinching the bridge of his nose as if trying to scrub the images from his brain.

Honestly, if he’d told you that he had sex with another version of you, you probably would have had the same reaction, but you were not about to admit that to Dean Winchester of all people.

He’s not gonna win this argument. Especially not when he's waving his gun around like a psychopath.

“Because he's-“ You  glance over at Ben who winks at you. “I don’t know. He’s just kinda-.”

“Everything you’re not.” Ben raises his eyebrow at Dean.

“Sammy you gonna weigh in on this?” You look at Sam expectantly hoping that he can jolt Dean out of the never ending loop he seemed to be stuck in.

“Nope. I’m staying out of it.” Sam holds his hands up in surrender.

“I cannot believe you slept with me!” Dean shouts again.

“Stop saying that! I didn’t sleep with you! I slept with him. Can we please move on-“ You groan.

"Same thing!"

"What? How is it the same thing?” You plant your hands on your hips glaring at Dean.

"He's me from another universe!" Dean is gesturing wildly with his gun now. “How would you feel if I slept with an alternate version of you?”

“It’s completely different!”

“How?”

“They aren’t us!”

“He sure as hell looks like me!" Dean snaps back. "What did you close your eyes the whole time or something?"

Your cheeks flare bright red with Dean's question. "No I didn't!"

“And I don’t look like you.” Ben grunts crossing his arms over his chest and giving Dean a once over again.

“He also doesn’t act like you.” You add.

It was true, Ben didn’t. And for some reason you got along with him more. You didn’t understand what Dean’s problem was, but for the better part of five years he’d been treating you like you hadn’t been hunting your whole life. Not to mention the first three years were spent with Dean barely saying two words to you without some kind of insult attached.

“That’s beside the point!”

“How is that beside the point?” You demand.

“I can’t believe you did this!”

"I didn't kill anyone Dean. I didn't torture any babies or kill any puppies. We are consenting adults! We had sex-"

“No no no!” Dean puts his fingers in his ears. “Lalalalala.” He sings to himself to avoid the image.

"And we're gonna have it again. So the two of you should clear out, unless you're in to that kind of thing Deanie.” Ben wraps his arm around your shoulders to pull you into him, but you don’t take your eyes off of Dean.

“Fuck I’m gonna need so much therapy after this” Dean groans putting the gun down on the table. Which was a good sign because now you weren’t worried that he would accidentally shoot Sam in the foot.

“Really? After everything you’ve gone through that’s what pushes you over the edge?” You ask him in shock.

“Yes. Are you happy? You’ve driven me to the point of insanity!” Dean snaps.

"You're acting like a child."

"I am not! I am having a completely normal reaction to finding out you slept with Wannabe Captain America!” Dean gestures to all of Ben who looks at Dean like he can’t tell if it’s an insult or not. 

You take in a deep breath to calm your racing heart. “Why are you so upset that I slept with him Dean? I don’t understand how this is so earth shattering to you that two people had sex! You have sex with people all the time-“

“Not with you!”He snaps back, but then clears his throat when he realized what he just said.

“He is not YOU!” You shout rolling your eyes for the millionth time. At the rate he was going, you were sure they were going to roll out of your head. 

“As important as this conversation is… can we maybe put a pin in it and go back to why he’s here?” Sam asks diplomatically.

“No-“ Dean says at the same time you say.

“Yes! Ben why are you here?”

“Don’t really know.” He shrugs taking a long hit from a joint that seemed to materialize out of thin air, while tightening his arm over your shoulders. “All I know was that I was fighting Homelander and someone hit me from behind. Then I ended up here.” Ben’s eyes trace your body. “But I’m not complaining, especially not because I got to see you again doll.” He winks.

“Homelander?” Dean repeats. “That is the stupidest hero name I’ve ever heard in my entire life.”

“He’s anything but a hero.” You fight the shudder from the last time you ran in to him. “Think about Superman if Superman was a narcissistic sadist with a massive inferiority complex, no weakness, and an obsession with perfect hair.”

Dean looks Ben up and down with a heavy sigh. “I’m disappointed that I couldn’t have at least been a bit more like Batman.”

“Trust me. You don’t want to meet knockoff Batman from his reality either.” You respond.

"I guess I'll start doing some research." Sam says slowly, looking from Ben to you while hiding a smile.

He’s enjoying this way too much.

"Good." Dean frowns at Ben, before he claps him hard on the shoulder. You saw Dean fight the wince when he felt how solid Ben was. "Let's get you home buddy." His eyes dart from Ben to you. "Before you do anything else that'll scar me for life."

Thank you so much for reading! Likes, Comments, and Reblogs are not required, but are always appreciated! 😊

Taglist: @roseblue373 @mrsjenniferwinchester

[apocalypseornaw]

Fantasies

Dean Winchester x Reader

You start having dreams about the eldest Winchester which puts a strain on your friendship

You groaned lightly from the tightness in your side, it was decorated vibrant shades of purple from the last hunt. All of you were currently sticking to the bunker and licking your physical or mental wounds until the next case called.

You walked out of your room trying to decide if you wanted to go in search of coffee or just wander through the stacks in the library. Sleep wouldn't find you and your mind wouldn't allow you to simply lay in bed.

You ended up deciding on a bottle of water before going in search of a book to busy your mind until maybe exhaustion would win out. You walked quietly into the library and was surprised to find you weren't the only occupant of the bunker still up.

Dean sat at the table, an open lore book in front of him but you could tell from the look in his eyes his mind was on anything but the book. "Dean?" You called and he startled slightly which honestly shocked you. No one snuck up on Dean.

He smiled when his eyes landed on you "What are you doing up sweetheart? You got pretty banged up" you rolled your eyes despite the smile slipping onto your face. Of course he was worried about your side when Sam had to put his left shoulder back into place. "I'm fine Dean. Are you ok?"

He nodded then stopped "No, I'm not. Can we talk?" You laughed lightly "We're talking now Winchester" he narrowed his eyes at you so you grinned "Sorry" then walked over to sit next to him but instead he grabbed your hand at the last moment and directed you to the table in front of him.

It wasn't unusual for any of you to end up sitting on the table during a rundown of a hunt but that was when it was all three of you and you were fully dressed. Now you were wearing the long tshirt you'd worn to bed and a pair of boys boyshorts that barely covered everything. You sat down in front of Dean and pressed your legs together, pulling the shirt down "What's wrong Dean?"

He leaned forward, tentatively putting one hand on your bare leg "You" "Me?" You asked and he nodded "Jody may have let somethings slip to me" you felt your face warm, why would she do that? You'd told her in confidence. "I know you don't feel the same about me Dean" you barely whispered, keeping your eyes down on your lap.

He leaned forward to catch your face in one of his hands, forcing your eyes to meet his "How do you know I don't? How do you know if you're not the only thing ever on my mind? How I hate you wearing this damn outfit to bed because if I ever catch Sam looking I'm gonna knock his head off. How I'd give anything to bend you over this table and show you just how much I feel the same about you"

By that time he'd moved from his chair to be standing between your legs, one hand holding your face while the other was still on your leg. You could feel your heart in your throat when you saw the hunger in those gorgeous green eyes that was watching your every move. "Show me" you whispered and a grin worked its way onto his face. He caught your lips in a bruising kiss as you felt his hand slid up your leg to your inner thigh. When his fingers brushed over your clothed core you moaned lightly and he smirked against your lips "Damn that's a beautiful sound"

He slipped one finger under the shorts and groaned when he realized you weren't wearing any panties. He plunged two fingers into you and your hips bucked up towards him. His eyes went from your face down to watch as he fucked you with his fingers "So damn pretty,coming apart on my fingers. Can't wait to feel that little pussy stretched around me"

He caught your lips again, slowly exploring your mouth with his own as he worked you closer to that edge. The moment his fingers grazed that spot inside of you, you clenched hard around his fingers and he moaned "Fuck, baby I'm trying to take this slow but you're making it hard"

You pulled back from the kiss just long enough to slip your shirt over your head, leaving you completely bare from the waist up "Take it slow later Dean but for now please just fuck me like you want me" He closed his eyes just for a second but you could see his jaw clench tightly. When he opened his eyes they were a darker shade of green and fuck his voice sounded deeper than usual when he said "Yes ma'am"

"WAKE UP SLEEPING BEAUTY. WE GOT A CASE" Dean's voice booming through your bedroom door jolted you awake. Your heart was pounding wildly and you were fairly certain your panties were soaked. Fuck. These dreams about Dean had started months ago, they had been sporadic at best but now it was beginning to be a reoccurring thing. How the hell could you keep living in close quarters, hunting side by side when the one thing you wanted from him you knew you couldn't have?

Reality

[percyluvr]

sam winchester x fem!witch!reader summary: you're unaware of your witchy heritage, or even the existence of the supernatural, until two hunters come waltzing into your life claiming that you and your mother are witches wc: 9802 warning: pre-bunker era supernatural, violence (not a lot but enough to warrant a warning, i think), not proofread dedicated to my only (i think) pjo + spn moot, skye

“You’re up early, Sammy,” Dean says, looking into the doorway at his brother wiping sweat off his forehead. “And sweaty.”

“Yeah, I went for a jog. You should try it, it’s good for you. Plus, it’s nice outside.”

“Right, no thank you. Sleep is essential to keep looking this good.”

“Alright, man, if you say so,” Sam replies, disgust apparent on his face.

“Whatever. Listen to this,” Dean starts. “A middle-aged woman in Tupelo, Mississippi, was found dead last night with all of her teeth missing, and some freaky ass carving of some horned thing on her chest. Her husband came home and found her lying on the bathroom floor. Apparently she didn’t die until after she made it to the hospital, though, so whoever or whatever did this wanted it to be long and painful.”

“Huh. Sounds creepy.”

“Exactly. So what do you think? Our kind of gig?” Dean asks, fully knowing they were going to go find out either way.

“Yeah, definitely. Y’wanna head out now or get something to eat?”

“I’m hungry as hell. I need a burger before we deal with this.”

“I feel you. Well, not the burger part, but I’m definitely gonna need food before we head out.”

“Let’s hit the town then, see what there is to eat here,” Dean says, grabbing his jacket and shrugging it over his shoulders before walking out the door, Sam following after grabbing his laptop and jacket of his own.

****

After driving for a bit, they find a small, semi-trashy diner.

"I can't believe this is the only decent looking place in this whole town," Dean complains.

"I mean, what do you expect? We're in a town with a population below three thousand."

"Right. The food better be good or else I'll be pissed. Give me that menu," he grumpily demanded.

"Their salad looks good."

"Yeah, real funny. I'm gonna get that special edition deluxe baconator," Dean said excitedly, mood immediately improving at the sight of a greasy burger on the menu.

Sam makes a face, about to say something, but is interrupted by the waitress arriving at the table.

"You boys ready to order or do you need more time?" She asks, eyeing Dean.

"Oh, we're ready," Dean flirts.

Sam rolls his eyes. "I'll get the, uh, shake it up salad."

"Okay, and for you?" She asks Dean.

"I'll get that deluxe baconator."

"Got it, I'll be back in a sec."

She starts walking away, Dean eyeing her every step of the way.

"Seriously, dude?" Sam asks in disgust.

"Yeah, look at her, dude. Tell me you don't want a piece of that."

"Alright, man, enough. As soon as we finish we're getting right out of here, no flirting."

"Whatever. Don't be jealous you never get laid."

Sam rolls his eyes as the waitress walks over with a salad in one hand and Dean's burger in the other.

"Thank you," Dean says, giving her a wink. Sam sighs exasperatedly for what feels like the six hundredth time today.

"You've got to stop that."

"Stop what? I'm just appreciating the beauties of the world."

"Yeah, I'm ignoring you now. Eat your food so we can go."

"Who died and made you boss?" Dean mutters.

Sam ignores him, and proceeds to wolf down his salad.

"Little hungry there?" Dean asks.

"Last time I checked, I was the one that went for a three mile jog this morning, not you, so I'll eat all I want, thanks."

"Just asking, don't get your panties in a twist."

"Whatever, I'm done eating."

Dean wolfs down the rest of his greasy, and in Sam's opinion, disgusting burger, managing to nearly choke on it twice, then stands up and walks toward the counter. He turns around and mouths 'getting her number,' and raises his eyebrows twice at Sam, who just rolls his eyes in response.

Sam shakes his head and walks out to the Impala, assuming that Dean is flirting, with a side of paying for their breakfast.

He opens the shiny black door of his brother's 1967 Chevy Impala and sits down on the beige seat, looking out the window at the diner. Moments later, the door opens and Sam sees Dean’s smug smile and a small piece of paper being waved around in the air.

When Dean sits down in his car, he immediately looks at Sam. “And that is how it’s done by a true master of charm,” he boasts, putting the key in the ignition and shifting to reverse.

“Good for you. I can get girls’ numbers too, y’know. I’m not celibate, or whatever crap you call me.”

“Sure, Sammy. Whatever makes you feel better. But if you really think you can get a girl’s number instead of me, you’re mistaken. So, whoever gets the number of the hottest girl wins.”

“That’s stupid, I’m not doing that.”

“We’ll see.”

“No, we won’t see. I’m focusing on the case.”

Sam sees Dean smirk in response as they pull out of the parking lot. He clenches his jaw in annoyance.

****

Halfway on the way to Tupelo, Sam asks, “So what do you think we’re looking at here? ‘S not everyday we work a job like this.”

“Honestly? No idea. Not a big fan of the carving on the chest, either. Never seen a symbol like that before.” 

"Great," Sam grumbles, and for the rest of the car ride his thoughts were full of possibilities of what they could be hunting.

****

Four hours later, the Impala rolls into Tupelo, and the first building they see is a fairly decent looking motel, which they decide to spend the night in. After checking into the motel, they carry their bags into the room, immediately grabbing out their fake FBI badges and cheap costume suits.

After quickly changing, they head out to the Impala. “Ready to see every dentist’s nightmare?” Dean jokes.

“Actually, pretty sure that would be you. I can’t remember a day where you didn’t eat some kind of candy or tooth rotting food,” Sam says. “Or even brushed your teeth for that matter.”

“Dude, I brush my teeth.” Sam raises his eyebrow. “Sometimes.”

Sam scoffs. “Yeah, right. Your breath smells like a dead person.”

****

Dean parks the Impala in front of a white two-story house in some, as Dean says, stuffy suburban neighborhood. They get out of the car and walk over to the house, Sam knocking on the front door.

A man, the woman's husband, Sam assumes, opens the door.

“Mr. Feezerman, we'd like to talk to you about your wife,” Sam says, flashing his fake badge.

“Thank God the FBI is involved. The cops here have no idea what's going on. Come in,” Mr Feezerman says, gesturing for them to come in.

Dean sits down on the couch, leaving Sam standing next to it.

“Mr. Feezerman, do you mind if I use your bathroom?” Sam asks.

“Go right ahead. It’s upstairs, the second door on the left.”

“Thanks,” Sam says with a little nod of his head.

Upstairs in the bathroom, Sam searches through the drawers for a hex bag, but comes up empty. He moves onto checking the cabinet below the sink, but still nothing. He finally looks in the medicine cabinet and finds a small brown cloth tied together by a leather string.

"Damn it," he grumbles.

He grabs the bag and heads back downstairs after putting it in his pocket.

He reaches the bottom of the stairs and sees Dean turn to look at him. Sam gives him a nod indicating his search was successful.

"Alright, that's all, thank you, Mr. Feezerman," Dean says.

****

"Alright, so what are we thinking?" Dean asks.

"Well, based on the hex bag I found, I'm thinking witch. And not some beginner level witchcraft, either, dude. I'm talking ancient witchcraft, warts, wrinkles, and all."

"Awesome," Dean groans.

"Yeah. And I'm thinking it's not just one witch, either. Witches this strong usually form covens to protect themselves."

"Awesome times two," Dean says, furrowing his eyebrows and grimacing.

"Well, what did you get? She have any enemies?"

"Her husband said that her and some of the other prissy ladies were in some sort of book club or whatever he said, I wasn’t really listening. I was thinking about that waitress from before,” Dean says dreamily.

“Dude, focus.”

“Right, anyways. Apparently, he found out through some lady she was friends with that she was cheating on her husband with one of the other lady’s husbands. Say that five times fast.”

“Sounds complicated, but also like we have some clear suspects.”

“Right. The book club or wine club or whatever it is these trophy wives do with their free time.”

“Dude, chill with the ‘I hate cookie-cutter families’ thing.”

“My bad.”

“You wanna head to the morgue or talk to suspects?”

“I’ll go to the morgue, you talk to suspects. I can’t handle any more of these people.”

“Alright. Did you get any names or addresses?”

“Obviously. This isn’t my first hunt,” Dean says, rolling his eyes.

“Alright, man. Take me to the first house.”

****

When they reach the first house, Sam gets out of the car.

“Meet back here in 30?” Sam asks.

“Uhh, y’know what? I think I’ll come with.” 

“What happened to not being able to handle any more of these people today?”

“Well that is one cougar just begging to be tamed,” Dean says, eyeing up the woman sitting on the porch.

“Disgusting, seriously.”

“Don’t hate the player.”

“Shut up.”

They walk up the pathway and up the stairs. When they reach the porch, the blonde woman gets up from her spot on the swing.

“Hello, boys, how can I help you?” She asks.

“FBI, we have a few questions about Amelia Feezerman,” Dean says, holding up his fake badge.

“Oh, dear. Come inside, then,” she says, leading them inside to the living room.

“So, nice place you got here,” Sam says.

“Oh, thank you,” she says, and before she can continue, Sam hears the pitter-patter of feet on the floor. “Honey, the cookies look delicious. Hopefully you two like chocolate chocolate chip.”

“Oh, I’m not really a sugar pers-“ Sam starts to say, but when he sees the woman standing in front of him, he quickly changes his mind. “But it doesn’t hurt occasionally.”

“Good, it’d be a shame if these cookies went to waste,” you say, winking at him.

“Like mother like daughter, damn,” Dean says under his breath.

Sam elbows him. “Knock it off,” he hissed.

“Before you two leave, let me know how the cookies are,” you say, gaze lingering on Sam before you walk out of the living room and back into the kitchen.

“We will,” Sam says, making ‘goo-goo eyes’, as Dean later calls them, at you.

“Dude, go in there and talk to her, I’ll talk to the mom here,” Dean says lowly to Sam, who nods in response and follows you into the kitchen.

The unfamiliar sound of footsteps prompts you to turn around, surprised to see the, in your opinion, cuter agent following you into the kitchen.

“Hello, agent,” you say with a grin.

“Hey, I’m Sam,” he shyly responds.

“Well, Sam, what did you think of the cookies?” You ask eagerly.

“They were really good. I’m really a sweets type of person, but you surprised me,” he compliments, the crinkling of his eyes serving as an effect of the wide smile gracing his face. You think that his smile makes him at least five times cuter, but you decide to keep that to yourself, for now at least.

“Well, thank you. I’m glad to contribute to the conversion of you into a dessert lover,” you joke, earning another beautiful smile from him.

“So, I’m not exactly here to talk about your cookies, however delicious they may be,” he admits, albeit a bit nervously for someone in the FBI, you think.

You raise an eyebrow. “How can I help you, then?”

“Have you heard about the death of Amelia Feezerman?” Your eyes widen, and you nearly choke on the cookie you were eating.

“What? Oh my God, no, I had no idea.”

“Ah, so you wouldn’t happen to know anything about her death?” He questions.

“Um, no? Why would I know anything about that?” You wearily ask.

“We thought that maybe you would know if there was any reason that anyone would want to hurt her.”

“Well, I didn’t really know her all that well. I know that she was in some book club thing with my mom, but that’s about it,” you say, crossing your arms. “Actually, I did hear that she was getting it on with some of her friends’ husbands.”

“Yeah, we know that,” Sam begins, “wait, plural husbands?”

“Yep,” you say, popping the ‘p.’ “She’d get with anything that breathes.”

“I see. So do you think any of these women would want to get revenge on her for that?”

“Oh, definitely. Some of these women are vicious. Rich women are some of the craziest people I’ve ever met, so glad I’m only back for three months,” you snicker.

Sam laughs. “So, you in college, then?” 

“Yeah, I’m in my third year, just home for the summer,” you explained.

“Yeah? You enjoying college?”

“Partially, I mean sometimes I miss my mom, but then I remember that visiting her means having to come back here, and I’m over it immediately,” you sheepishly admit.

“Really? It doesn’t seem too bad here, other than the death,” he says.

“Yeah, well, I guess you haven’t seen how people really are here.”

“How do you mean?”

“I guess I just mean that people here are petty and would do anything to get back at anyone for the smallest stuff,” you say sadly. “Especially some of my mom’s friends.”

You take the look on Sam’s face as an incentive to continue, “her friends are like, money obsessed, and if any other woman gets close to their husbands, somehow they’re mysteriously gone within the month. It’s kind of freaky, to be honest.”

Sam clenches his jaw as Dean walks into the kitchen.

"You ready to go?"

"Uh, yeah, give me a second.”

Dean gives him a look, but nods and leaves the kitchen.

“Give me a call if you can think of anything else that might be relevant to the case,” Sam says, handing a card with his FBI phone number on it to you.

“Will do,” you say, winking at him.

****

“Alright, so, what do you got?” Dean asks.

“Well, apparently this isn’t the first time this has happened here. According to her, multiple women go missing every year, all women that have gotten too close to the husbands of these book club ladies.”

“So we’re looking at a coven full of snotty rich women?” Dean complains, shoulders sagging.

“Guess so.”

“Doesn’t seem so bad for you though, Sammy. Don’t think I didn’t see you laying down the nerdy charm in there,” he jokes.

“I wasn’t flirting,” Sam defends. “I was just getting information and she happened to be pretty and conversational.”

“Sure, Sammy, sure.”

****

Before heading back to the motel room, Sam and Dean decide to stop by a restaurant for dinner.

“Dude, don’t tell me you’re gonna get another salad. You need some real food.”

“Like what? ‘Cause I’m pretty sure what you eat wouldn’t be classified as ‘real food’ either.”

“It’d be closer to real food than the shit you eat. You eat rabbit food, I eat manly food,” Dean argues.

“‘Manly food?’ How is it manly? It’s just greasy and disgusting. You’re gonna get a clogged artery in like 3 months because of it.”

“Whatever, I’m here for a good time, not a long time.”

Sam shakes his head and goes back to looking at the menu.

Sam’s menu browsing is interrupted by a familiar voice. “Can I get you two started with a drink?” 

He looks up to find you looking somehow just as beautiful in a waitress uniform, looking at him with stars in your eyes and a grin gracing your features.

“Well, hello again, agent. If I didn’t know better I’d think you were stalking me,” you playfully say, earning a chuckle from Sam.

“Hey, again. And yeah, I’ll just have a water,” he says.

“Alright, but honestly, I’d get the strawberry lemonade. It’s way better.”

“If you say it’s good, then I’ll give it a try,” he says, smiling coyly.

“Good, so a strawberry lemonade for you,” you start, turning to Dean, “and for you?”

Dean orders his drink, and while they wait for you to return with their drinks, they look at the food on the menus, at least Sam does, until he realizes that Dean is looking at him over his menu with a smirk on his face.

“Dude, what’s up with you and the waitress?”

“Nothing,” Sam says hesitantly. “I mean, she’s pretty, but I don’t know.”

“What do you mean you don’t know? If a hot girl is hitting on you, take that as a blessing. How long has it been since you’ve gotten laid?” Dean reminds him, and for once Sam thinks he’s right, only a little bit, though. It had been a while since he even flirted with a girl, and it really couldn’t hurt, could it?

However, his train of thought is interrupted by your presence at the table again. You place each drink in front of them, being extra careful with Sam’s. 

“So, are we ready to order?” You ask.

The boys order, and you jot it down on your notepad before walking away from their table. This time, Sam takes the time to watch the way your hips swing from side to side every time you take a step. All he can think is that you have the most graceful walk he has ever seen in his life, which he then thinks is a little weird, but it’s just like him to notice these small, weird, and typically brushed over details of people.

When you back out of the kitchen doors, a plate in each hand, Sam is still staring. He can’t help thinking how beautiful you are, and how cute the smirk you always seem to have on your face is.

You place the plates down on the table. “Let me know if I can get you anything else.” You give Sam a smile that could just as easily be for both him and Dean, but he chooses to believe it was just for him.

Dean smirks. “She’s one hell of a beauty. If you aren’t gonna do anything with that blessing, I will.”

Sam gives him a dramatic look of disgust, but otherwise ignores his comment in favor of eating his sandwich. 

After they finish, Dean heads out to the car, insisting that Sam goes and talks to you. 

He walks up to the counter, money in hand. “Hey.”

You give him a grin. “Hey, there. Enjoy the food?”

“Yeah, it was really good,” he says, sliding you a twenty dollar bill. “That enough?”

You nod. “So, I get off in two hours. If you care, that is.”

He smirks. “What makes you think that?”

“Well, if my charms are still working, I would assume that you care. I’m quite pretty, after all.”

“And humble,” he jokes, earning an, in his definitely not biased opinion, adorable giggle from you. “But, yeah. You’re right, I do care.”

“Good, then meet me at the bar across the street. And don’t be late, otherwise I might find another man willing to fall under my spell.” You lean on the counter and give his hand a pat.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that to happen, so I’ll be there.” He smiles and heads out the door, leaving you leaning your head into your palm, grinning like a teenage girl that just made plans with her first boyfriend.

**** 

When Dean sees Sam walking out the door with a smug smile on his face, he can’t help but don a smile of his own. 

Sam opens the car door, greeted by Dean’s all-knowing grin. “So, you got a date tonight?”

“It’s not a date, we’re just going to the bar after she gets off work.” 

“Well, whatever, we finally got you a lady. Make the most of it, but don’t have too much fun. Still have to get rid of these witches.” Sam finds Dean’s advice very out of character, because typically he would tell him to have the time of his life, but he’s too elated to make much out of it.

“I know, man.”

Dean pats him on the shoulder. “Let’s head to the bar, get you a head start to your night of fun. I’ll look into this witch coven.”

“Dude, since when do you want to do the research?” Sam questions.

“Ever since you started getting chicks instead of me.”

Sam rolls his eyes. “You were hitting on a waitress this morning.”

“Can’t do anything with her number now, so it doesn’t count.”

“You could call it.”

“Nah, not in the area. Not worth driving all the way back for a waitress.” Sam raises an eyebrow but decides not to say anything.

**** 

In the bar, Sam and Dean are sitting at a small round table. Sam is drinking a bottle of beer while sitting across from Dean, who for once for once is not trying to get laid, but is actually researching the case at hand.

“Alright, so get this. These moms meet up at your new girlfriend’s house every Tuesday and Thursday and are there until, like, four in the morning.”

“Where are you getting this information?” Sam asks, using his years of enduring Dean’s teasing to skilfully avoid giving into Dean’s provocation.

“Some noise complaints that have been filed over the past few years.”

“So these are for sure our witches, then,” Sam observes.

“Seems like it,” Dean agrees.

Sam finishes his second beer of the night and grabs one of the files in front of Dean. 

“Alright, so there are four witches in this coven,” Sam reads from the file.

“Do you think the chick you’re meeting is also in it?” Dean asks.

Sam rests his chin on his palm, giving it some thought. He knew that some witches were born with their abilities, and since your mother was a witch, it was likely that you were born as one, but that didn’t necessarily mean that you were in on the killing, or that you even knew that you had powers. He hoped that you weren’t, but he thinks that he also wouldn’t mind it too much if you were. He would never admit it to Dean, but he thought that if you were a witch, it might be pretty cool.

“I don’t think so, she seemed really concerned about the killings and disappearances,” he defends.

“You’re just saying that because you’ve got the hots for her.”

Sam makes a face. “Yes, I like her, but I’m serious. I don’t think she is.”

“Alright.” Dean puts his hands up as if to say ‘Sorry, please don’t kill me now.’ 

Sam sees you walk in the door, heading straight for the bar. After taking a few more sips out of his new bottle of beer, he gets up out of his chair. Dean gives him a ‘go get ‘em tiger’ look, which he gracefully ignores in favor of sitting on the stool next to you.

“Hey there, stranger,” you say, batting your eyelashes at him.

“Hey,” he says giddily, causing you to come to the realization that he’s already at least a bit drunk. 

“So you’re a happy drunk,” you observe.

“Whaaat? I’m not drunk,” he argues.

You give him a knowing smile, but indulge him anyway. “Alright, fine. How’s the case going?”

“‘S good, we have suspects now,” he boasts.

“Yeah? I assume that’s all thanks to your hard work here,” you tease.

He gives you a toothy grin. “You know it.”

The bartender comes over and you order some fruity drink that Sam doesn’t catch the name of. When you get it, Sam asks to try it, which you oblige, of course.

“Wow, that’s good. I want one, too.”

“It is, but is that really a good idea? How many beers have you had already?” You ask, furrowing your eyebrows.

“Two, but I started on my third.”

“Oh. Well, I guess you can have some more of mine, but don’t drink too much. It’s pretty strong, and we wouldn’t want your partner over there to have to deal with you being too drunk,” you tease.

He frowns. “Who cares what he thinks? He’s bossy,” he groans. “And annoying,” he adds for safe measures.

You give him a comforting smile and a pat on his arm, causing you to realize just how muscular it is, along with the rest of his body. You somehow didn’t notice before, but now that you have, it’s all that’s on your mind.

“Sounds like I’ll have to take you off his hands for the night then, huh?” 

He notices that your hand is still on his arm, causing a light pink to dust his cheeks. “Sounds like a plan.”

“So, once you’re done with this case, how long until you leave?”

“It depends. Could be a week, could be the same day we finish the case. For you, though, I’m sure I can arrange staying around for a bit longer,” he suggests.

“That sounds nice,” you admit.

“Good, I’ll work it out then,” he states. “You look beautiful, sorry for not saying it earlier.”

“Well, thank you.” You grin, slightly shocked at how bluntly he says it, but you’re definitely not complaining. Looking over Sam’s outfit, you can’t help notice how good he looks in jeans and a flannel. The way the sleeves of his flannel tighten around his arms doesn’t go unnoticed by you. Now that you’ve seen how he looks in the basic combination, you don’t think you’ll ever be able to think another man looks good in it. “You don’t look half bad yourself. Casual is your look, agent. Not to mention that shirt is doing wonders for your arms,” you compliment, causing a dark blush to appear on his face for the second time tonight.

“Thanks,” he mumbles in embarrassment, clearly not expecting you to have flirted back, and if he did, he definitely didn’t expect you to flirt so blatantly. He’s flustered, and so, he decides to shift the conversation topic off of himself. “So, where do you go to college?”

“Last year I transferred to Stanford, but I went to an in-state college that was far enough away from here before.”

Sam raises his eyebrows, giving you a small smile. “I went to Stanford, too.”

“Really?” You ask.

“Yeah, I was studying to be a lawyer. Until my brother came to my apartment and told me he needed my help looking for our dad, at least” he admits.

“You didn’t finish school?”

“No, but it turned out to be a good thing,” he says, his voice sounding like he was trying to convince not only you, but himself as well. You raise an eyebrow, but in hopes of not upsetting the cute puppy-eyed boy you’d met only hours earlier, ultimately decide against saying anything to contradict his statement. Luckily, he doesn’t seem to notice your hesitance to accept his statement.

“I’m glad. Although, I’m sure you could still finish school if you ever wanted to. It wouldn’t hurt to have a back-up plan,” you suggest, laughing internally at the fact that being a Stanford educated lawyer would be his ‘back-up plan.’

“I guess. But I don’t think I could let Dean work all by himself.” The crestfallen expression he has on his face after imagining leaving Dean, paired with his puppy dog eyes is almost too much for you to handle. 

You put your hand on his arm, rubbing your thumb across the flannel he was wearing. “You’re a good partner, Sam. He’s lucky to have you.”

A perplexed look flashes across his face until he realizes that you meant they were FBI partners, and he quickly recovers by giving you a small smile. You find yourself unable to think about anything but his gorgeous eyes, sweet smile, and silky hair, causing you to get that warm fuzzy feeling that all your friends describe when talking about their boyfriends, and you feel yourself returning a smile without even trying. It felt almost like a reflex, and you realized that you were developing a crush on the tall, sweet, doe-eyed man. This thought is even further confirmed after Sam puts his large hand over yours, curling his fingers around your significantly smaller ones, causing your heart-rate to pick up.

You don’t even notice the blush appear on your face until you hear Sam’s teasing voice. “Now who’s the one blushing?”

“It’s just the lighting, don’t get all cocky,” you try to defend, to no avail, though, since Sam’s mischievous grin does not falter after hearing your defense.

“If you say so,” Sam says, doing his best not to let a doubtful expression cross his face.

“I do,” you firmly state. A small lull of silence overcomes the conversation, and you search through your brain to search for a new topic to discuss. “You said you have a brother? What’s his name?”

“Uh, about that. Dean is my brother.” Your eyebrows lift slightly.

“No way. You guys are brothers and work together? That’s pretty cool,” you observe.

“Yeah, sometimes. Other times he’s a real dick, though.”

“I bet. But he seems pretty nice for the most part.”

“He’s a good guy, he just thinks he has to protect everyone, especially me. He doesn’t realize I can do things on my own. I mean I was in college without him and I did just fine.”

You nod sympathetically, understanding how complex family relationships can be. From there, the conversation flowed smoothly and you felt like you could tell Sam anything without any judgment, leading you to ask, “Would you, uh, want to come over to my house for the night? My mom isn’t going to be home tonight.” As you say it, you feel like you’re in high school all over again, and you start to regret the words as soon as your lips stop moving.

Sam’s eyes widen and he stays quiet, further fueling your regret. For those brief few seconds, your mind races and you worry if you came off too strong or if he simply isn’t interested in you past a drunk conversation and flirting. Luckily, he realizes the look on your face and saves you from any further anxiety. 

“Sure, that sounds good.” Once again, the infamous smile graces his features, cheeks puffing up causing his eyes to crinkle and because not only is his face beautiful, of course his eyes have to be, too. You swear, even if no one else in the whole world agrees, his eyes are so beautiful in that moment that they glimmer.

You beam at him and slip off your stool, grabbing his hand and leading him off to the door. He looks back at Dean to find him already smirking at him. Dean gives him a wink, and for what is probably the millionth time in his life, Sam completely ignores him, focusing on the way you’re eagerly dragging him out of the place and to your car.

****

The next morning, Sam wakes up in a room that is far too nice to be the hotel that he and Dean were staying at, even though they always got the best room. He quickly remembers the events of last night and smiles. Although, his smile fades when he looks next to him to find you nowhere in sight. He rubs his eyes, looking around the room at the posters and decorations that let him peer into a tiny part of your life without worrying if he was overstepping any boundaries. 

He gets out from under the blanket and slips off the side of the bed, walking over to your desk that holds a curious collection of trinkets and a book full of pictures. He’s in the middle of flipping through the book when he hears the creaking of a door opening, and his reflexes have him whipping his head to see where the noise came from. You let out a little giggle when you find his face looking like a little kid that just got caught doing something he wasn’t supposed to. He tilts his head as if asking what you were laughing at, but you just shrug, a cheeky grin still on your face.

“Whatcha doin’ there, Sam?” 

For a moment, Sam is at a loss of words. “Uh, I was just….” He trails off.

“Don’t worry, I’m not mad. Just wondering what you’re looking at.” Your words clearly ease his mind, as he picks up the open photobook and points at the picture he was looking at. You smile as you look at a highschool version of you with some of your friends at a festival. 

“It’s a cute picture. You dyed your hair, though. I almost didn’t realize you were in it at first.”

“Yeah, I figured since I was going to college I should switch it up a bit.”

You sit on the edge of the bed, watching as Sam continues to flip through the pages. You carefully watch his expression change as his eyes move around the pages looking at different moments of your life. He was glad to get even more of a glance into who you were. 

Eventually, he reaches the end of the book and closes it, setting it back down on its rightful place on your desk. He joins you on the bed, sitting an awkward distance away from you, causing you to let out a small chuckle.

“What?” He questions, his puppy-dog eyes in full effect again.

“You can come closer, y’know. I don’t bite,” you tease. He blushes, as even more memories of last night flood into his brain. You definitely bit, but apparently only during certain hours of the day.

He scoots closer to you until your shoulders are comfortably pressed together. You take advantage of the proximity and lean your head on his shoulder.

“So, any plans for today?” You ask him.

“Not really. Just stuff for the case. I should probably check my phone.” You nod, and Sam thinks that the divine beauty of the slight raise at the corners of your mouth is unrivaled by any other sight Sam has ever seen, and he has seen almost too much in his short life.

He reaches over to the table next to your bed, trying his best not to move away from you and disturb your peaceful state of simple existence. He turns on his phone, seeing a few texts from Dean with more details on the case. He turns his phone off and decides that it wouldn’t hurt to stay here with you for another hour. You’re surprised by the weight of his head resting on top of yours, but who are you to complain? 

****

Unfortunately, an hour can go by very fast when you’re, as they say, having fun. Watching Sam walk out of your house pulled on a part of your heart that you wish it hadn’t, knowing that Sam would soon be leaving your not so small town and you would more than likely never see him again. You don’t think you would be able to handle not seeing him again, even though the two of you have known each other for less than a mere day. With these thoughts swirling around in your brain, all you can do is give him a small wave when he turns around to look at you one last time before getting into his brother’s ‘67 Impala.

****

“Dude, tell me about your night. Was it the craziest sex you’ve ever had? Is she freaky? Waitresses always are, man.” Dean’s rambles fill Sam’s ears as soon as he closes the door to the old, black car.

“Really? You couldn’t even wait five seconds before you start with this?” Sam complains.

“You haven’t gotten laid in centuries, Sammy, excuse me if I want to know if my little brother had a good time.”

“Shut up.” 

As usual, Dean completely ignores Sam’s protests and continues asking graphic questions about the ‘hot witch waitress’ until they arrive at the house of one of the witches in the coven.

****

Dean knocks on the door of the white two-story house, and within seconds is met with the face of a standard looking middle-aged woman.

“Hello, ma’am, FBI,” Dean says, flashing his fake badge, actions in sync with that of his younger brother.

The woman’s eyes widen slightly, but she schools her face back into neutrality quite quickly. “Come on in.” She motions for them to step into the house.

Dean sits down on the large couch in the living room, leaving Sam to remain standing next to it. “Do you mind if I use your bathroom?” Sam asks.

“Of course, go right ahead. Up the stairs and two doors to the right.”

Sam gives her a grateful smile before he walks out of the living room and heads up the stairs. When he began his search, he had expected to find one hex bag, or maybe even zero, but what he hadn’t expected was three. He raised an eyebrow, assuming that all the others in the coven would have at least coordinated this better, but here he was, looking at three different hex bags.

He quickly grabs them before flushing the toilet to avoid suspicion or potential disgust on the woman’s part if she realized that he hadn’t flushed the toilet. 

Heading back down the stairs, he gives Dean a small nod to indicate his findings and to signal Dean to wrap up his investigation.

“You boys have a good day, good luck with your investigation,” the woman says, closing the door behind them as they walk down the stairs connected to the front porch.

“Dude, there were three hex bags in her bathroom,” Sam says, pulling the bags out of his pocket.

“I thought they only needed one? What’s the point of having more?” Dean inquired.

“I don’t know. Maybe it’s more powerful or something.”

Dean made a sound of acknowledgement but said nothing in return. Sam took it as a cue to continue talking.

“So, I was thinking we just wait until a night that they meet up and then ambush.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Dean agreed.

****

Back at the hotel room, Sam is researching more for the case, just to be safe, while Dean is out grabbing something for them to eat. Sam assumes that he’s gone back to the restaurant you work at so he can grab another glance at you.

Sam is deep into a passage on witchly powers when his phone rings, he assumes it’s Dean, but the small screen shows an unknown number. His eyebrows raise, but he answers the phone nonetheless. 

“Hello? Sam?” A familiar, but shaky voice asks from the phone.

He says your name as if it were a question, to which you quickly say, “Yes, um, sorry to be calling this late but I think there’s someone in my house.”

Sam’s jaw clenches, his whole face tensing up before quickly relaxing again as he prepares to defend the woman that he now found lingering in every crevice of his mind.

“I’ll be there in 5 minutes. Just lock your door and stay in your room, alright?” 

“Okay. Please stay on the phone with me, I’m really scared,” you admit.

“Yeah, yeah, you got it,” he says, rushing out the door of the hotel room before realizing that Dean was still out getting food. “Shit,” he breathed. However, now he could finally reap the benefits of his daily morning runs.

“What?” 

“Nothing, just a slight change of plans. Just stay calm.” His voice was slightly strained and now sounded more like a moan than actual words, and if you weren’t so damn scared you might have found it sexy.

****

About seven minutes and lots of heavy breaths from Sam’s end of the phone later, Sam was at the front door of your house, gun full of witch-killing bullets ready in one hand, and his small phone in the other. 

“I’m here, you’ll be good if I get off the phone?” He asks, fully ready to somehow manage to find a way to stay on the phone while fighting if you need him to.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Do what you need to do, please,” you say, but he hears the fear in your voice.

“I’ll be done and up there as soon as possible, alright? Don’t worry.”

He hears a small sound of acknowledgement from the other end of the phone before he finally ends the call and goes into the house. He heads straight for the door to the basement that, luckily, he had found when he made his journey to the bathroom the first time he was over at your house. He opens the door and grabs a second gun out of his pocket for safe measures, especially since Dean was nowhere to be found despite Sam’s multiple texts.

He slowly creeps down the stairs, doing his best not to let his weight cause the stairs to creek. Fortunately, he makes it down soundlessly, but is now stuck with the task of creeping through the abnormally large basement without getting cornered by witches.

It takes a few minutes before he finally hears the loud chanting start back up again, and while he knows that he’s probably free to walk as loudly as he wants to, he still keeps up the stealth.

The chanting slowly gets louder, and Sam steadies his arms to shoot both guns. As soon as he sees two figures in the door frame, he pulls the trigger on both, not wanting to risk the chances of them performing some spell on him before he gets a chance to get them first.

Unfortunately, he’d forgotten that there was still a third member of the coven, and as soon as he turns around, he’s met with the face of your mother, as well as a book harshly hitting his head and rendering him unconscious. 

The next thing he knows, he’s tied up in the same room that he shot the two witches.

“You’re not FBI, you’re hunters,” your mother says, disgust obvious in her voice.

“Like you’re any better. You kill innocent people,” Sam grunts, starting to discreetly rub the rope he was tied up with against the chair to cut it.

“Innocent? Oh, please, no one in this world is innocent, especially not you, and even more so since you’ve involved yourself with my daughter,” she spat.

Sam grimaces. “Oh, yes, I know all about that.” She smirks.

Sam is about to speak, but is interrupted by your voice calling out for him. As your voice grows closer and closer, Sam realizes his progress on the rope is not as fast as he hoped, and if he didn’t hurry up, you’d be in the room before he was free. 

However, to his dismay, you enter the room before he can free his arms, and all that he can think about is how awful it would be to watch you die, especially by the hands of your own mother. The nauseating thought is interrupted by a loud smashing sound that Sam immediately recognizes as a bat to the head. His head shoots up and he sees you, eyebrows furrowed with your eyes glazes over as you realize what you’ve done. 

He finally manages to get the rope holding his hands behind his back cut as you sink down onto your knees and start sobbing. His first reaction is to run over and hold you, asking if you’re okay, but he isn’t sure if that’s what you would want, and there’s no way in hell that he would want to upset you even more.

He settles for walking over to you and kneeling down with one hand on your back rubbing what he hopes are soothing circles on it.

“It’s gonna be okay, I promise,” he comforts. “It’ll get better. Just know you had to do this, alright?”

“I know, Sam, but it doesn’t make it any easier. I didn’t even think about it, I just saw you tied up, and that was my first reaction. Am I insane?”

“Hey, hey, don’t say that. It’s fine, you’re fine.”

Finally, you turn towards him and collapse into his arms, and though he’s surprised, he catches you and holds you closely and firmly to his chest. The hand that was once on your back is now on your head, comfortingly playing with your hair, and the other is wrapped around your waist as you sob into his shoulder.

****

Hours later, you’ve finally calmed down, and you and Sam are in your living room sitting on your couch, along with Dean, the other FBI agent that had arrived while you were still sobbing, much to your later embarrassment. However, Sam had reassured you that it wasn’t embarrassing, and Dean definitely wouldn’t find it so.

After his reassurance, you could find no trace of embarrassment still lingering in your mind. It was surprising that someone you’d only met a few days ago was able to not only understand you like that, but also manage to diminish your insecurities so easily. You found yourself thinking about how much you and Sam seem to have in common and how easy it is to talk to him. 

You lean your head on his shoulder, and out of the corner of your eye you see a small smile on his face. He wraps his arm around your shoulder and brings you closer to him.

“Oh, get a room,” Dean grumbles in annoyance, but Sam knows that he’s just faking it. He knows Dean too well to not realize that he really is happy for him.

****

When you wake up the next day you feel a warm presence next to you in your bed. You quickly recognize the presence as Sam, leading you to snuggle closer, resting your head on his chest.

“Good morning,” Sam says groggily, his voice breaking you out of the peaceful trance you were in.

“Good morning,” you reply.

Sam gives your arm a small squeeze before sitting up. You mirror his actions, ready to start a conversation, but are interrupted by the loud sound of his phone.

He gives you an apologetic look and grabs his phone to presumably read a text.

“It’s Dean. He has a lead on the case,” he states, to your annoyance.

“That’s good, I think. Would it be wrong for me to ask if I could come with?”

Sam’s eyebrows raise at your unexpected request. He stays quiet for a few seconds before replying, “I won’t say no, but I also don’t want you to get hurt. So, I have to be honest with you.”

You tilt your head, encouraging him to continue.

“My brother and I aren’t FBI, we’re hunters.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “What?” 

Sam swallows as if to prepare for the words about to leave his mouth.

“Monsters are real. Vampires, ghosts, all of it. My brother and I hunt them.” As the words are leaving his mouth, Sam is suddenly hit with a wave of regret. What if you don’t believe him? What if you think he’s crazy and tell him to leave?

You, on the other hand, were thinking about how happy you were that Sam was comfortable enough with you to tell you about his real life. In the future, Sam would probably laugh about how vast the difference of what was going on in each of your minds, but now, he was taking your silence as negative.

When you saw the worry on Sam’s face, you immediately realized that you’d been sitting in complete silence since he’d admitted the truth about him and his brother. 

“Really?” The one simple word brought Sam joy and relief like no other moment in his life.

“You actually believe me?” He asks in disbelief.

“Yeah, I mean what reason do I have not to? It does sound kind of insane, but I also bashed my mom’s head in with a bat yesterday, so…” You trail off, realizing that once again you’d been using humor as a coping mechanism instead of dealing with your problems.

Sam clears his throat, now feeling very awkward. “Right… About that, are you sure you want to come with? You’ve already been through a lot.”

“It would probably help to get my mind off of it, even if more traumatizing shit ends up happening, too.”

He pursed his lips, deep in thought. “Yeah, alright. If that’s what you want, I won’t stop you.”

You smile. “Yeah, it is.”

**** 

Half an hour later, you’re sitting in the back seat of the infamous black Impala with some old rock song that Dean picked playing.

“Sam, are you sure about bringing her?” Dean asks lowly, as if you couldn’t hear him from your spot right behind him. 

“Yes, Dean. It’s not like we’re leaving her to fend for her own while we go together,” he says exasperatedly.

“If you say so.”

You clear your throat, prompting Sam to turn around and give you an apologetic smile. You return the smile, but the annoyance you feel towards Dean does not dissipate. If anything, you feel it even more so after Sam apologized instead of him.

You decide to ignore it and stay quiet for the rest of the drive.

A few minutes and one rock song later, the Impala pulls into a driveway that you recognize as one of your mom’s friend’s house. You furrow your eyebrows.

“Why are we here?”

Dean clicks his tongue. “You didn’t tell her?”

“Well, Dean, I’m sorry that I didn’t want to overwhelm her,” he sasses.

“It’s a little late for that, don’t you think? You brought her on a damn hunt.”

The air in the car suddenly felt awkward and you felt as though you shouldn’t be listening to their conversation. 

“I’m just gonna get out and let you two finish your discussion,” you said quickly before opening the door and walking over to the porch of the house.

As you walked up the stairs, the front door opened, and the face of your old best friend from high school appeared in the doorway. 

She called your name, a big smile adorning her face.

“Lily, hey!” You said, feigning excitement to see the girl after three years.

“It’s been so long! Come inside. My mom is downstairs,” she exclaims, ushering you into the house and nearly slamming the door shut once you’ve entered her house. As soon as you enter the house, a chill runs down your spine and you can’t help but feel nervous about what’s about to happen.

****

You’d been in the house for a few minutes before Sam and Dean had even realized you hadn’t been sitting on the porch the whole time they’d been arguing, and when Sam looked over to see what you were doing, a wave of panic rushed through his whole body.

“Dean, she’s gone.”

“What the hell? See, this is why we shouldn’t have even brought her with us.”

“Dude, whatever, it doesn’t matter, we gotta go find her right now.”

Sam quickly opened the passenger door and rushed out of the car and through the front door.

He opens the door, quickly checking the living room. Nothing. He checks the kitchen and the dining room. Nothing and nothing. He checks all the rooms on the first floor and the second floor, then goes back to the first floor to check again, when he hears Dean calling out to him.

“Sam? Come here, I found a door to a basement or somethin’,” he calls out.

Sam follows the sound of his brother’s gruff voice and finds a door he doesn’t know how he missed. He’s usually thorough about searching, but he finds himself extremely on-edge this time. He thinks it might somehow, maybe, have something to do with his not-so-subtle crush on you, and maybe the thought that losing you would be one of the worst things that has happened to him even though he’s barely known you for five days.

He quickly pushes the thought to the back of his mind, at least for now, in favor of pushing ahead of Dean and heading down the stairs into the basement.

His mind is now absent of any “lovey-dovey” thoughts of you, but chock full of thoughts about how you could be dead right now. He never should have let you get out of the car and go inside without him. If you were dead, it would be all his fault, and he would never be able to escape the guilt of having another death on his conscience. 

However, with all of these thoughts, the thought that you could actually hold your own against the witches had somehow never crossed his mind. It definitely should have, though, because when he finally reaches you, you’re standing over two feminine figures that are lying still on the ground. 

He sees your chest rising and falling as the iron tight grip you have on the knife in your hand begins to falter. The knife clatters onto the floor as you look over to see Sam.

“Sam,” you pant, and he immediately rushes over to you and takes your tired figure into his arms. He immediately feels blood that he isn’t sure of the origins beginning to soak into his jacket, but he can’t bring himself to care about that right now. The only thing he cares about is your safety, and preserving that safety for as long as he possibly can from here on out.

“Are you okay?” He whispers next to your ear.

“No, Sam, I killed my mom and then my best friend from high school and her mom in the span of not even twenty-four hours. I feel horrible.”

“You had to, okay? They were killing people. Maybe that doesn’t help you feel better right now, but eventually it will. Don’t beat yourself up over it, or you’ll end up hating yourself for the rest of your life. This is how it is to be a hunter, and I understand if after now you never want to do it again,” he rambles, trying to somehow make you feel better, which he knows is nearly impossible right now, but he can’t stop himself from trying. To him, it almost feels like someone is taking control of his body and making him do everything in his power to help you.

He realizes very quickly, though, that it’s not a person taking control of his body, but an emotion: love. The realization is scary for him, to say the least, especially because of his track record with girlfriends dying, but he thinks that he would be okay with overcoming this fear if it means you would be his.

A few seconds later, Dean walks into the room and finds himself met with the sight of your shorter figure being held, in his opinion, disgustingly lovingly by his brother. He’s happy that his brother has found someone that seems like a good person from what he can tell.

Dean whistles, eyebrows raising in approval at the sight of the two witches’ bodies behind your back. “Damn, and you didn’t even need my help. You’re getting better, Sammy.”

Sam shakes his head. “I didn’t do this. She did,” he replies, turning around and giving Dean a smug look. Dean gives him a look of annoyance at being proven wrong when it comes to your ability to fight, but ultimately decides to give it a rest, for today at least. He could tell you were shaken up, and he felt that he could sympathize, only a bit, though.

When he realizes that you had taken out the two witches on your own, he couldn’t help but feel impressed, and he confidently feels that you and Sam are right for each other. It’s funny that it isn’t your loving personality or quirky teasing that tells him that you’re right for Sam, but instead the fact that you can hold your own in a battle. That really is a more valuable asset in their lives than any regular person, so Dean is glad that his brother has been lucky enough to find someone like that.

****

Later that day, you’re all standing outside your house that now feels very empty without your mother. You never realized how much of a presence she really had until now, and admittedly, it makes you sad to think about, no matter how much you disliked her.

Unfortunately, it’s about to get a whole lot emptier with Sam and Dean ready to head out to their next case. However, Dean’s voice shakes you out of your thoughts, and his words shock you even more.

“Kid, how would you feel about joining us for a few more hunts, see how you feel? Who knows, maybe you’ll become a permanent member of our group here.” 

Sam gives him a look of pure astonishment, but all he receives in return is a smug look and a little shrug.

“Well, I don’t know. I don’t want to be a burden to you guys with all the teaching me how to hunt and all that.”

“I don’t think we’d have to do too much teaching. You’re a natural,” Sam compliments, causing a deep blush to appear on your cheeks.

“Alright, Sammy. We’re gonna have to work on all that flirting,” Dean teases. “I’ll admit, I do agree, though. That was impressive. I probably couldn’t have done that on my first hunt,” he admits.

His unexpected words of praise make you smile, and your annoyance from earlier fades away. Dean could be a pain in the ass from what you’ve learned, but he could also be nice. You figured he was usually a pain in the ass, though, but you figured that you would be able to learn how to deal with it, or at least ignore it like Sam seems to be able to do.

“Alright. To be honest, it was kind of exhilarating, but also scary. I think it could be something I could learn to love, though.”

Sam gives you a warm smile, and gestures for you to go over there to give him a hug, which you excitedly accept, falling into his larger frame as his long arms wrap around you.

Dean grumbles. “Really? Again?”

All you and Sam do in response is laugh, much to Dean’s annoyance.

a/n: would yall be interested in this being a series or something ?? idk i feel like that would be fun to do

tags: @kozumesphone

[zepskies]

OMG I KEED A PART 2 TO SAM HAVING A CRUSH ON DEANS GF

Like idk maybe say Sam didn't listen to Dean and tried making a move on reader? Like ofc he wouldn't ever do that *I don't think* but in this hypothetical scenerio it happens

Hey hun!

Oooof, that's hard. You guys really like this angsty love triangle stuff, huh? 😂 I genuinely think Sam would rather saw off his own hand than hurt Dean that way. But this is like, the only thing I could think of on this one. 😅

See this imagine for context: You are Dean's one exception.

Pairing: Dean W. x Reader, one-sided Sam W. x Reader Word Count: 1,100

Imagine: Sam crosses the line.

Goddamn witches.

That's the last coherent thought Sam has, before his mind is no longer completely his to control.

Well, it's still his mind. His body. But the careful door in his mind and in his heart, reinforced with steel and chained shut with titanium, combo-coded, locked and loaded, now has broken hinges.

Thoughts he hasn't allowed himself to think for months are pried open, with a sick kind of enjoyment in pain.

You're his brother's girl. Sam can't help but love you. He wants you. And now, he might be able to have you.

The witch is dead, but the spell she just hit Sam with remains. He's not dead, so that's a plus.

"Are you okay?" you ask him, slightly breathless. You're the closest to where he's sprawled on the ground, so you go to him. You touch his arm, and he can't help but clamp down on your hand. He looks at you with the thinly veiled eyes of a hunter as he smiles. Because your concern reaches the deepest parts of him.

"I'm fine," he says.

But Dean reads the hunger in his brother's eyes. He's subtle in the way he grasps your shoulder and Sam's (noticeably tighter).

"But what happened? How do you feel?" you ask, trying to take stock of what you're all dealing with here.

"I uh...feel fine, actually," Sam says. He rolls his shoulders. His gaze focuses on you. Dean holds him back from getting off the ground.

"Get the book. See if there's a way to fix this," Dean tells you without taking his eyes off Sam.

Sam tilts his head at Dean, the beginning of an angry frown on his lip as you rush away to find the witch's spell book.

"What's the matter, Dean?" Sam asks. He doesn't bother to lower his voice. (He literally doesn't have a filter anymore.) "Afraid of what might happen when she actually has the chance to choose?"

Dean's lips purse as his eyes darken. "This isn't you. And when you wake up from this, you're either gonna hate yourself for even thinkin' what you're thinkin', or you're gonna have one hell of a headache."

Sam stares back incredulously. He scoffs. "What're you gonna do, kill me?" They both know that's not happening.

But that's also when Dean knocks him the hell out.

When Sam wakes, it's to you stuffing tissues in his bloody nose. He groans a bit. He looks at you and still wants. But when he looks down at himself, he's in the bunker, handcuffed to the war room table.

You look worried for him as you go back to your side of the table with the book. Dean is oddly nowhere in sight. Sam thought he'd be watching you (and Sam) like a hawk.

"Dean'll be back in a sec. He's trying to get ahold of Rowena," you supply. "But how're you feeling? What's the spell doing to you exactly?"

Sam rolls the kinks out of his neck and removes the tissues, even though his entire face radiates with pain. His brother once promised to break his nose, and he did just that.

"Basically? I think it took away my inhibitions," he replies. More like threw them in a blender and put his deepest, headiest desires into overdrive.

You frown. "Like a really bad bender, or a truth serum kind of thing? But why would he punch you out for that?"

Your gears are turning rapidly, weighing out all the options. You always were smart. Sam leans forward slowly. Noting your thread of wariness, his face softens. He doesn't want to scare you...

He sighs. "Listen...there's something I've been wanting to tell you for a while now."

He reaches out a hand. You're looking at him in frozen surprise. His curled fingers brush your cheek. He leans in toward your face.

But you flinch and pull away.

"What the hell are you doing?" you ask.

Sam should've known, but it still hurts him. His jaw clenches. The spell takes away his self-preservation, however.

Just as he might've tried with words to finally confess the depths of his heart, the door creaks open.

The sound of Dean's heavy boots approaching makes him flinch. But Sam looks over with an unrepentant stare.

Dean glances at Rowena, nostrils flaring. "Fix him." He gestures at Sam before he joins you on your side of the table, resting a protective hand on your back.

Rowena shoots him a droll look. "Only because you asked so nicely."

"I don't need fixing!" Sam argues, glaring at Dean. His voice echoes on the bunker's walls. "You're just afraid of what happens if she knows the truth!"

Your eyes widen further. You look from Sam, to your boyfriend. Dean's jaw is clenched tight.

"Okay, what the fuck is going on?!" you ask in earnest. Dean meets your gaze for a moment, his face tense. His reluctant eyes communicate to you things you never knew. Things that clog emotion in your throat. Dean turns back to Sam.

"Don't do this, Sammy. It don't end well for you," Dean says.

"Like hell," Sam retorts.

"Okay, sleep now, dear," Rowena says. And with a wave of her hand and a haze of violet, Sam's world once again blackens.

When he next wakes, he's in his own bed. Not restrained. He indeed has a massive headache, and it's hard to breathe through his still broken nose. He groans and turns, and his brother is there.

When the overwhelming guilt sets in, Sam knows he's himself again, with all the careful walls around his heart put back in place. Rowena must've broken the spell when he was unconscious. Dean can see the truth in Sam's eyes.

"There he is," Dean remarks dryly. "Our giant Jekyll and Hyde."

Sam inhales deeply. "Dean..." I'm sorry doesn't quite cut it.

"She knows," Dean says, after a moment. "Obviously."

Sam nods, swallowing past a lump in his throat. He hesitates to ask the next burning question, because part of him knows the answer.

"It doesn't change anything."

Sam's head turns at the sound of your voice. You stand in the doorway, with your arms crossed despite the disheartened look on your face. Your eyes meet his, steady and sad, but firm.

"I know," Sam says, with a small, self-deprecating smile. "I'm sorry...for all this."

"It's not your fault," you reply. Spell or no spell, the way he feels is not his fault.

You step into the bedroom and go to Sam's bedside, laying a hand on Dean's shoulder. That hand smoothes up his neck, and your fingers briefly thread into his hair. Another silent conversation passes between you and Dean, the way only lovers that close can accomplish.

After a beat, Dean nods and gets up out of his chair. He thumbs at your cheek; it's both an answer to your unspoken request and an endearment. Then he pats Sam's shoulder before he leaves you and Sam alone in the room.

Trust. That's what that is. Dean trusts you, and now that the spell has worn off, he trusts Sam again.

Sam meets your gaze. As awful as he feels, he still loves you. He knows you know by the way your gaze meets his.

All he wants to do is touch you.

To apologize, and to touch you.

He hates himself.

You shake your head. "I love you, Sam. As my friend. My brother."

"I know," he nods. "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry," you reply. "You just have to respect that."

"'Course, I do," Sam nods again. You would've never known, if not for the damn spell.

You surprise him by taking his hand. Yours is soft and warm and kind.

Always kind...

But never truly his to hold.

AN: GAH! The Angst. You could bottle it. 😩

Want to know what that conversation was like between Dean and the reader after she "found out?"

Read It Here: You and Dean talk about Sam's feelings.

Dean Winchester Imagines

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Dean W. Tag List:

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms @foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @vanillawhiskeyflavoredkisses @roseblue373 @this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma @iprobablyshipit91

@melancholictearz @nic-kolas @sleepyqueerenergy @wayward-lost-and-never-found @thewritersaddictions @just-levyy @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @deanwanddamons @antisocialcorrupt @lacilou @adoringanakin @theonlymaninthesky @teehxk @midnightmadwoman @brianochka @branj19

@agalliasi @venicesem @chriszgirl92 @lyarr24 @ladysparkles78 @solariklees @xsophianicolex @deansbbyx @candy-coated-misery0731 @curlycarley @sarahgracej @bagpussjocken @ultrahviolentart @chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420

[ninii-winchester]

Dusk till Dawn

Pairing : Dean Winchester X Reader

Word count : 1.7k

Warnings : angst, violence demon dean, language, illusions to sex (nothing explicit)

Part 2 to I don’t wanna live forever

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO COPY MY WORK, TRANSLATE IT OR POST IT TO ANY OTHER PLATFORM. REBLOGS ARE APPRECIATED.

But you'll never be alone

I'll be with you from dusk till dawn

Baby, I'm right here

Sam had finally managed to track down Dean and has brought him back to the Bunker. Y/n wasn't scared of him but she wasn't excited to see him again in his demon form either. Sam had Dean cuffed inside the dungeon and she could hear him scream every time Sam injected him with human blood.

She knew she'd have to face him sooner or later, so two hours later, she decided that she'd go see him. She entered the dungeon and she watched as Dean thrashed around in the chair he was tied to, he spewed hurtful words at Sam and the latter retorted by telling him this isn't his brother speaking.

Dean eyes landed on Y/n as she walked inside, her arm still in a cast. He turned his eyes black before turning them back to normal. He threw her a smirk and she visibly tensed. She knew he was tied and Sam was in the room as well but she couldn't help but shrink under his gaze.

"How's the arm?" He mocked.

"I'll live." She replied curtly. He laughed evilly before speaking again.

"Hm I wonder why Crowley saved you, were you fucking him? I mean you do look like a skank.." She felt herself tear up at his harsh comment, this isn't my Dean she kept repeating to herself. "I mean I wouldn't put it past you-"

"Dean shut up." Sam intervened.

"What you fucking her too?" Dean cackled. "Cmon Sammy you can do bette- argh" Dean growled loudly as Sam interrupted him by giving him another shot. He groaned breathing heavily.

Y/n felt her heart thudding inside her chest, she wondered if part of Dean actually thought all those things, how long can she hold on and believe that this is the demon talking. Sam noticed the apprehension on her face and pulled her outside.

"Hey..you can't let him get to you, that's not Dean." Sam said holding her good arm. "He's trying to rile you up, don't fall for it."

"Yeah..!" She nodded her head, seemingly out of it. "Yeah I know Sam." She snapped herself back.

Four hours later Y/n was in the kitchen when she heard it, Dean's voice. But it wasn't him groaning or screaming, it wasn't coming from the dungeon either. It was closer. She ducked and ran out of the kitchen hoping to find Sam before Dean finds either of them.

Dean continued to call out for Sam, asking him to come out and talk with his big brother, his voice was scaring the wits out of her and she hoped she doesn't run into him. But just because she's so lucky she rounded a corner and saw him. Dean stood right in front on her with a hammer in his hand.

"Well hello there, sweetheart." Dean smirked. She backed away and he took a step forward. Suddenly the power in the bunker went out and the emergency lights were turned on. "That's smart little brother, locking the place down." Dean yelled. "But you see I don't want to leave." Well at least now she knows where's Sam. But the control room is a bit too far from where they were and she's on her own here. "You're gonna have to wait for me, Sammy. I gotta finish what I couldn't last time."

Y/n knew there's no point running, so she did what she thought was the best. She moved towards him. Dean glared at her before grabbing her hair and slamming her in the wall. A smirk plastered on her face. "You can go ahead and kill me, but just so you know, Sam's gonna cure you. He won't stop until he does." She prayed that Sam finds them soom or it's gonna get ugly pretty fast.

"I can see right through your brave girl act." Dean sneered. "This is gonna be so much fun." Dean grabbed her injured arm and pressed hard making her scream.

Dean let her go and held the hammer with both his hands, he raised it above his head and Y/n braced herself for the impact but it never came. Sam had tackled Dean to the ground, the hammer falling from his hands. Dean struggled in Sam's hold. "Let me go." He growled slamming Sam into the ground. Thankfully Castiel appeared and caught hold of Dean.

The two men hauled him back to the dungeon and Sam completed the ritual. Dean was finally back. Sam threw holy water on his face and the lack of sizzling flesh brought relief to Sam and Cas' face. "Welcome back, Dean." Sam said with smile. Dean's face flashed an array of expressions, but he was happy to be back.

While Sam helped Dean get back to his room, Cas found Y/n in the same hallway they had left her in.

"Cas?" She groaned holding her arm, slumped against the wall. Castiel kneeled in front of her, he placed his hand on her arm and eradicated the pain. "Cas, Dean-"

"He's not a demon anymore." Castiel informed and she sighed in relief. He nodded and helped her up. The two of them went to the library. Sam was hyper excited that his brother was back and he told them he's going to bring his brother lots of cheeseburgers now that's he's hungry again. Y/n's smiled dropped when Cas mentioned the elephant in the room, that Dean still has the mark.

"One thing at a time Cas." She replied before leaving the library.

Cause I wanna touch you, baby

And I wanna feel you too

I wanna see the sun rise on your sins

Just me and you

To think everything would go back to normal after Dean was cured was wishful thinking on Y/n's part. She hasn't seen him ever since he turned back. He's been avoiding her. She knows he feels guilty and is beating himself up for whatever happened but she needs him to know that she forgave him because it wasn't him.

Y/n was in the kitchen, her hand wrapped around a steaming cup coffee. She was lost in thought but she heard the sound of footsteps approaching the kitchen. Dean entered the kitchen, stopping mid way as he noticed her figure and turned back to leave. But her voice stopped him.

"How long are you planning to continue this?" She asked, her voice filled with hurt. He didn't turn back or answer her question. She has had enough of him ignoring, she moved to grab his hand and turn him towards her. "Talk to me, please." A tear dropped down her cheek as she looked at his face while he looked at the ground avoiding eye contact.

Dean gently shrugged her hand off his arm, he wanted to reach out and wipe that tear off her face but he was scared to touch her, afraid to hurt her or worse break her. He has already done enough and he'd be damned if he does it again. She lifted his chin with her fingers to make him look at her and he relished in her touch. Her face was healed but a few scratches were visible and he felt nauseous knowing he did that.

"I hurt you." Dean spoke for the first time. She shook her head.

"It wasn't you."

"It was me, those were my hands on you, I hurt you physically and emotionally. I said those vile words to you, about you. It was me. But none of it was true, you’re not- " He couldn’t continue further. A few tears escaped his eyes.

"I forgive you, Dean. I love you." She said cupping his cheek and wiping his tears.

"You shouldn't." He whispered.

"The only time you’re allowed to tell me what to do is, in bed." She teased hoping he'd loosen up a bit but he didn't. His gaze lingered on the cast on her arm. "Dean look at me." She said with authority and smiled when he obeyed. "Can you answer some questions for me?" He nodded. "Do you blame Sam for what happened to Kevin?" She asked softly.

"No. It was Gadreel. Not Sam." Dean replied in an instant.

"Exactly. If you don't blame Sam for Kevin, why can't you stop blaming yourself."

"That's different." He shook his head.

"Do you love me, Dean?" Dean looked offended she'd even asked but he replied without a beat.

"With everything I have. I love you so much."

"Can you forgive yourself for me, then?" Dean stayed silent "please, baby."

"I don't wanna hurt you again." He confessed.

"You won't. I know you're only capable of loving me unless you're being controlled by some stupid curse. And I know you tried to fight it."

"I did." He placed his hands on her waist and she sighed in relief hugging him as tightly as she could with one arm. "I really did."

Light it up, on the run

Let's make love tonight

Make it up, fall in love, try

She pressed her lips to his and he kissed back ever so softly. His lips moved against her with fervour. He wanted to breath her in, imprint her on his mind. He snaked his hand around her waist and picked her up. And she wrapped her legs around him, not wanting to break the kiss. She needed him as much as he needed her. He pressed kisses to her face and jaw, he sat her on the table and stood between her legs.

"I'm sorry." He dropped feather light kisses to her neck. "I'm so sorry." He held onto her tightly as if she'd disappear if he let go.

"I'm right here baby." She assured him. "I love you."

"I love you, sweetheart." Dean made love to her, with his soft and gentle touches, he made it up to her, his actions showed her how much he loved her, how sorry he was. As their breathing slowed, they held each other close, savouring the moment. In the silence that followed, they knew they were far from okay but they would be okay together.

Tags:

@s0urw00lf @spnfamily-j2 @deangirl96

[castiwls]

tolerate it pt2 - d.w

Paring; dean x reader

Prompt;

Requested; anon

Notes;highly requested sorry its taken so long.

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

In the days since Dean had left, you’d spent most of your time thinking. You’d gone over and over your conversation with Dean until you were pretty sure you’d analysed every single word a few times over.

You’d come to the conclusion that upon Dean’s return, he was gonna have a choice to make. It killed you inside to even think in this way but you knew something had to be done. Living life locked away in a bunker was nothing you’d imagined, nor wanted. Before the bunker your life had been filled with long car rides and late-night conversations whispered under the covers of old motel rooms.

You’d never bothered much about Dean’s protectiveness back then because you’d still had the freedom of exploring new towns and finding small hidden treasures. You’d loved the whirlwind of moving from town to town. State to state. Until it had stopped. Until you’d found yourself trapped in a metal prison.

By no means were you kept here forcefully. You could leave at any point but you didn’t want to. Walking around the same town on your own was only entertaining for a certain amount of time before it grew repetitive. While before Dean used to join you as you’d both explore the new towns, now he barely left the bunker unless he was hunting.

Even when he was here he’d always have a reason to stay behind while you adventured out for supplies. 

Which is what brought you to now. What brought you to sit on your bed, a duffle bag in hand as you slowly worked up the courage to begin the task of packing. It almost broke your heart in two reaching from the draw and slowly opening it. Pulling out the first piece of clothing felt like you were poking small holes in your heart.

You loved Dean, you truly did but you couldn’t live like this any longer. 

“What are you doing?” You jumped slightly at the voice, dropping the top you’d been holding. “Your back.” You quickly picked up the top before turning to face Dean who stood staring at you. His eyes darted between the bag and your open draw before back to you. A small look of fear crossed his face for a moment before quickly disappearing. You were leaving?!

“Sweetheart.” He slowly began walking towards you, his arms reaching out to grasp your own. “What are you doing?” He repeated.

“Giving you a choice.” You responded simply, keeping your expression calm. “You let me come with you every so often, or I leave. For good.” 

Dean faltered for a moment. His grip on your arms tightens. “You..you can’t leave. Sweetheart why would you…no.” He shook his head as his mind raced a mile a minute. “I can’t keep doing this.” A small frown pulled on your lips as you softened your gaze. “It’s not fair on me. I feel useless here Dean! You never let me help anymore!” 

“I’m trying to keep you safe! Why can’t you see that.” He threw his arms up turning his back to you before running a hand through his hair. “You being here is the safest place you can be.”

You shook your head. “What’s the point of this relationship if you're never here and I'm constantly sitting here doing nothing? I spend my time worrying that one day Sam will walk through that door and you won’t be with him!” Tears gathered in the corners of your eyes as you tried to reason with him. “I can’t keep doing this Dean.” You pressed a hand to your mouth taking in a deep breath to calm yourself. 

“Either start letting me help or I’m leaving.”

You held your breath, feeling your heart beat faster in your chest as he stayed silent before turning back to face you. His heart beat in his ears as he considered his options for a moment. Losing you would break him, but seeing you in harm's way would also break him.

He felt stuck between a rock and a hard place as he stared at you. Taking his silence as an answer you nodded, pushing the tears back. “Fine.” You turned back to the draw beginning to throw things into your bag. 

The feel of arms wrapping around your waist stalled you slightly. “Stay, please. I can’t lose you.” His lips pressed against the side of your head before he nuzzled his face against your neck. “We can compromise. I’ll teach you how to hunt but on my terms.” He turned you in his arms allowing you both to come face to face. 

“I'm so sorry.” He pressed a chaste kiss to your lips before repeating himself. “We can fix this. I promise.” You nodded slightly. It was a start. Him even considered the idea of training you was a step up from before.

“You better keep that promise.” You nodded towards the bag. “Or I really will leave, I swear.” Dean nodded before pulling you impossibly closer, his hand caressing the back of your head.

“I promise.”

[spnbabe67]

Run Baby Run

Kinktober Day 6: Knife Play (D.W.)

Pairing: Demon!Dean Winchester x Fem Original Character

Warnings: DUBCON!, Knife Play, Choking, Handcuffs, Smut, Masturbation (F and M), Deanmon (Yes, he is his own warning)

Summary: Tori was trying to be sneaky. But when Dean spots her at the bar he tracks her to her motel room and she tries to convince him to come back home (I suck at summaries sometimes, I'm sorry!)

Word Count: 1749

Authors Note: This is a lot darker than I usually write so bear with me on this. I saw a thing on tiktok that inspired this fic. Title is based on the song Run Run Run by Dutch Melrose

Taglist: @zepskies @king-of-milf-lovers @nightxcreature

Tori knew that Dean was different. She hadn’t been there when Sam got back to find Dean’s note, but when Sam called her from the other side of the country telling her that Dean was now a demon, Tori couldn’t believe it, refused to believe it. But there he was lounging at the bar and every so often she watched his eyes flick to pure onyx then back to that gorgeous emerald green. The last semblances of hope she had that maybe Sam had hallucinated, he hadn’t been getting much sleep, neither of them had been. All of that flew out the window when she locked gazes with him from her hidey hole in a booth in the back corner of the tavern and his eyes blinked black, narrowing with recognition before returning to their normal color. She wanted to believe that maybe, just maybe, that good and kind heart she knew beat steadily in his broad chest would override the corruption that turned souls into demons. 

Much to her dismay, Tori knew she couldn’t bring him back by herself, at least not without putting herself in significant danger. She knew what Dean was capable of as a human, a deadly and cunning hunter. What would he be capable of as a demon? She slipped out the back of the roadhouse, climbing into Baby with a gentle hand on the steering wheel and ran, tail between her legs, back to the motel she’d rented for the night. A pit had opened up inside her, filled by despair, anger and desperation. She sat down at the table in her room, palming the Demon Blade. The polished antler handle was smooth, the pommel rounded off from years and years of use. Tori didn’t know if it was part of the enchantment of the blade, but it never seemed to dull, always razor sharp and ready to be plunged into a demon’s meatsuit. She ran the pad of her thumb parallel against the blade, feeling the edge scrape against the ridges of her skin. Tori had to pull herself from the thought of using the blade on Dean; she wasn’t sure she could if it came down to it. She knew that Mark of Cain was a bad idea, but did anyone listen?

Tori clenched her fist around the handle, starting as a knock sounded at the door. The seedy motel she chose to hole up at didn’t have peepholes so Tori held the knife behind her back as she slowly eased the door open to be met with a pair of green eyes.

“Hiya Sweetheart.” Dean shot her a saccharine smile, shouldering his way into the room all masculine swagger. 

Tori stood there stunned for a moment as she processed what just happened. Once her brain and body reconnected, she slammed the door shut and stormed over, shoving Dean against the wall with an arm across his broad chest. It’d been months since she’d seen her lover let alone been this close to him. He had grown a stubble, his hair longer and styled a little differently and sans the black eyes, he was still her Dean. Yeah, this is gonna be hard. 

“Okay, this is how this is gonna work.” Tori reached over to the table and grabbed the warded handcuffs. “You are gonna put these on and then we are gonna take you back to the Bunker and figure out how to turn you back.”

Dean smugly looked down at the handcuffs in her hand before trailing his gaze back up to hers. His hand brushed hers as he took the cuffs from her, the other Tori found around her neck. She took a shaky breath as his fingers encircled her neck, pads pressing against her thundering pulse.

“What makes you think that I would ever want to be changed back? I’m stronger, I’m faster, and I can fuck you so much better than I could before.” Dean purred into her ear as he tossed the cuffs to the ground, snatching the knife from her shaky grip.

Tori felt her bottom lip wobble with fear and anger. She knew she shouldn’t have come here alone, should have taken Sam up on his offer to have him come with her to chase this lead. Stupid, stupid, stupid. Tori hated the way her body quivered as she felt the cool metal of the blade against her stomach as Dean slid it between her skin and her tank. The sound of ripping fabric meddled with her shallow breaths as Dean slowly cut away her shirt, leaving her naked from the waist up, her nipples pebbling from the cold air. 

“Get on the bed.” His voice void of humor.

Tori swallowed thickly as she backed up until the backs of her knees hit the bed. Dean followed her, stopping at the foot of the bed as Tori retreated towards the head of the bed. 

“Strip.” 

The one word was enough for Tori to feel her panties become wet. Tori kept her eyes on Dean’s as she slowly hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her basketball shorts, pushing them down her thighs and discarding them off to the side. She felt her breath get caught in her throat as Dean slammed the knife down blade first into the mattress. The blade sank into the fabric, the smooth handle Tori had just been admiring stuck straight out of the duvet. Tori felt her cheeks burn hot as she slowly realized what Dean wanted her to do, brown eyes flitting between the knife and Dean as he pulled a chair towards the bed. As he sat down his fingers made deft work of his jeans, sliding them down to lay loose around his muscled thighs. His pretty cock was standing at attention, the head of him red and weeping with precum. 

Dean jerked his chin towards the knife. “You know what to do, pretty girl.”

Tori flicked her tongue across her lower lip, watching Dean’s eyes dip to her lips. Tori hesitantly crawled forward, positioning her knees on either side of the blade, clocking Dean spit into his hand before lazily stroking his length. Tori could feel her core pulsing with arousal as she sank down, the pommel of the knife pushing against her entrance. Her breath hitched as the handle of the knife slid, with little resistance, into her. It didn’t fill her half as good as Dean’s cock, but the curves of the lacquered handle provided delicious pressure against that spot inside her. She set a steady pace, rolling her hips up and down on the handle, breathy moans escaping her lips every time the handle became fully seated inside her. Dean before her stroked himself in time with her movements, his lower lip tucked between his teeth as he watched her. Tori snaked a hand between her legs, coating her fingers in her slick before rubbing small circles around her clit.

Tori whimpered as she felt her orgasm start to build, her free hand kneading her breast as she sped up her movements on the knife, grinding her hips harder. She could see Dean was close, his hips stuttering upwards, chasing his hand. Just before she teetered over the edge Dean lunged at her, pulling her off of the knife, tossing the blade to the ground beside the bed. His lips tasted of the whiskey he’d been drinking back at the bar. They crashed against her own as he roughly pawed at her hips, her chest, her thighs. It was like he couldn’t get enough of her, or the humanity still inside him still craved her after being away for so long, she was his anchor and he was desperately trying to moor himself. One second her mouth was being devoured by him, the next she was on her stomach with a mouth full of sheets as Dean shoved his cock inside her. Tori moaned loudly into the bed, Dean’s cock stretching her until she felt like she’d be ripped in two. 

“So fucking tight, Sweetheart.” Dean groaned out, a hand braced on her back as he fucked into her at a punishing pace. 

Tori fisted her hands in the sheets, rocking her hips back to meet Dean’s thrusts, his cock sliding in and out of her with insanely pornographic sounds. The buttons of his shirt brushed against her spine, adding to the plethora of sensations assaulting her all at once. Her head was pressed further into the bed as Dean’s hand threaded into her hair close to the scalp. He growled dirty nothings into her ear as his cock hit every spot within her, pushing her closer and closer to her orgasm. With a cry swallowed by the bed, Tori came, her legs shaking and sure her nails would rip the stitching in the duvet with how hard she was clenching the fabric. Her walls clenched around Dean’s cock, overstimulated and trying to get away from the sensation as he sped up his thrusts, his hips meeting her own making sloppy noises from her slick as he chased his own high. Tori felt her tears caused by overstimulation melt into the sheets as Dean came with a loud groan, spilling himself into her. 

Tori was already maneuvering onto her back, a plead for reason coating her tongue when she felt the cool metal of the handcuffs slap around her wrist, anchoring her to the headboard of the bed. Her mouth dropped open as Dean buttoned his jeans back up before he rooted around and found the key, setting it on the table where he had sat. 

“Dean please.” Tori begged as he came back up to her.

He gripped the hair at the back of her head, smashing his lips to hers before pulling back enough to look her in the eye. Tori flinched as Dean’s eyes flicked black. “Be glad I don’t kill you where you sit. Don't come looking for me again and I won't make the same promise.”

Tori felt tears slip down her cheeks as he turned and walked towards the door. “Dean!” She called out. He paused in the threshold. “This isn’t you.” She said quietly.

Dean didn’t move for a couple seconds, and Tori could see his grip on the doorknob tighten. He glanced back over his shoulder at her, eyes still black as night. “It is now.” And that was all he said before walking out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

[actually-well-written]

Zombies can't have pets? Let's change that.

Zed necrodopolis x reader (NSFW)

"A five, six seven, eight!" Shouts a small voice chants a cheer, echoing through the tunnels.

Trying to get away from the loud music and green smoking from the zombie party, which was held underground in a bunker, making it impossible to escape the noise. Yet (Y/n) was able to hear the voice and follow it through the path and soon became curious as to who was chatting.

Finally, she soon reaches a space in the bunker. A room that's small and cramped space with little natural light, as it is hidden underground, and instead was decorated with lights. A staircase leading out of the bunker stands in the middle of the room, the base covered with cardboard, somewhat resembling a stage.

(Y/n) Turns the corner and finds a little girl with green pigtails , waving around white pom-poms and chanting the same cheer your cousin Alison gave at Zed's first football game.

"That's really good." (Y/n) Smiles, walking closer.

The little girl gasps and stops. She quickly gets of the 'stage' and hides her pom-poms behind her dog plushie.

"I wasn't cheering!" She states, holding her hands behind her back as if she was just caught with a cookie jar.

(Y/n) Giggles, "it's ok. I won't tell a soul." She promises, pretending to sip her lips. "You must be Zoey. Zed's sister."

"I am. Are you (Y/n)?"

"The one and only. How'd you know?" She asks, sitting down on the 'stage'.

"Zed talks about you a lot. When he thinks I'm not around." She explains, sitting down next to her, dog plush in hand.

"Oh, yeah? What's he say?"

"That your really pretty." She combs her fingers through the dogs stuffed fur. "And you 'have a nice rack'? I don't know what that means." She deadpans.

(Y/n) Chocks in her own spit in surprise, "oh, that so?" She covers the bottom half of her face with her hand, resting her elbow on her knee. Blushing at both the fact Zed thinks something like that about her and the possibility he says more things like that about her.

"Do you like cheering?" She asks, trying to change the subject and calm her blush on her face.

"Yeah! I love cheer!" She smiles. "Your cousins good."

"She is isn't she?"

"Zoey?! What are you doing here?" Zed pops out from being the corner.

"Please. I'm not gonna miss a zombie mash." Zoey sasses.

Zed rolls his eyes playfully and leans on the wall, crossing his arms, "well, come on. The party is almost over and you need to go to bed."

"Oh, come on." She pouts, but then smirks, and starts clapping her hands and patting her lap. "Come on. Who's a good boy?"

Zed tenses as he looks over at (Y/n) nervously, afraid to act like a dog in front of his crush. (Y/n) Only Raises an eyebrow in confusion as Zed looks around the room in embarrassment. He sighs and quietly lets out a bark, his arms still crossed.

"Zed?" Zoey asked confused at why her older brother suddenly doesn't want to participate in their inside joke.

(Y/n), now somewhat understanding what's happening, starting patting her lap as well. "Come on, Zed! Be a good boy for Zoey." She giggles.

Zed's eyes widen in shock, and he blushes at the fact (Y/n) just called him a good boy. Even if he was aware it was a joke.

Zed shakes his head, but his blush doesn't go away, so he carries on with the act. Panting and hanging his hands under his chin. He barks and woofs, making his way to Zoey and kneeling down.

She pats his head and shakes his 'paw'. "Good boy." She praises.

"Yeah. What a good boy~" (Y/n) teases. Smirking at the now even redier zombie before her.

Zed clears his throat, "uh-Zoey? G-go find Eliza. She'll take you home." His voice just as flushed as his face.

Zoey nods, getting up and taking her pom-poms and her plushie. She runs off back down the tunnel back to the party.

"Bye, Zoey!" (Y/n) Shouts. "She's cute kid."

"Yeah. Um, thanks?" Zed stands back up, (Y/n) following.

"What was that about?" She asks, giggling.

Zed scratches the back of his neck, "just something I do to cheer her up. She wants a dog."

"Why can't she have one?"

Zed raises his eyebrows confusion at the question, "cause Zombies can't have one?"

"What?! That's so messed up!"

"You didn't know?"

She shakes her head, "Zed if I never meet you I would still believe all the propaganda they show us humans."

"Right, propaganda. I know that word." He rambles, the last bit of his blush finally fading.

"Well, what about you?"

"Me?"

"What would you like to have as a pet?"

"Oh, when I was younger I wanted a bunny."

"Oh." And that's when it hit her. And idea. A fun idea. "A bunny?"

Zed chuckles, "yeah, yeah. A football player likes cute little animals. What can I say, I'm not following a stereotype."

"Do you have anything important tomorrow?"

"Huh?"

"In your classes?"

Zed smirks and crosses his arms, "are you suggesting we play hookie?"

(Y/n) Playfully scoffs, "nooo, I was simply going to ask if you would meet me in the zombie safe zone we meet in during lunch."

"What for?"

She shrugs, "find out~"

"Um, ok?"

(Y/n) Smiles and kisses his cheek. "Alright, see you tomorrow!" She waves good bye and runs back the same way as Zoey.

Zed places his hand over the kiss and smiles. What is she planning? He thought.

___________________________________________________________________

"(Y/n)? Are you here?" Zed whisper-yells, as he closes the hatch door of the zombie safe room.

Suddenly a pair of arms comes out from behind the shelves of emergency supplies and wraps around Zed's waist.

"Hi!" (Y/n) Smiles into Zed's up, looking up at him.

Zed flinches at first, but then smiles. "Oh, hey."

She lets go of him and sits down on the stall.

"Soo? What's up?"

She giggles and takes her hair from her shoulder. Playing with the ends of it, she twists it around her finger. She pops her mouth and reaches into her bag, which Zed hadn't noticed was there.

She takes something out and hides it behind her back, "come here."

"...I'm.. nervous." He jokes, in a nervous laugh.

"Don't be nervous. Come on."

"Why?"

She playfully rolls her eyes, "don't worry so much. Come on." She stitches her tone into a baby voice, one that a person uses with their dog. "Come on, Zed. Be a good boy. Come here~"

Zed blushes, the embarrassment and arousal of the praise getting to him again. He places his bag on the floor and slowly walks towards to shorter girl. "Y-yes?"

"Kneel down."

He places his knees on the ground and looks up at her in confusion. "What are you-" without realizing it, she finishes placing something around his neck and adjusts it. "Wha-IS THIS A COLLAR?!?!" He asks, turning a bright red.

(Y/n) Smiles innocently and then places a white bunny ear headband on her head.

"What-what is happening?!" Zed asks, his voice cracking.

"Look I know it's weird and I shouldn't be thinking like this, but-" she blushes and slowly knees down next the Zed. She bites her lip and whispers, "so you wanna do a roleplay with me?"

"....yes...... please..." Zed whispers back, his blush reaching his ears.

She smiles and blushes as well, "o-okay! Well, um it's simple. You're my good boy, "she gently tugs on the collar, "and I'm your good bunny girl." She points to her bunny ears. "Got it?"

He gulps and nods to the floor, "hehe, no one told me high school would be like this." He jokes.

She giggles, "ok, well. Anything you want to say? Any rules?"

"Um, no. I don't think? Just say red if, you know, wanna stop."

She nods, "same to you."

He nods.

They both sit in silence, Zed staring down at the floor and (Y/n) staring at him. The hallways outside the door loud with students walking through it.

"Did you want me to start or-" she asks quietly.

"Oh, right. Sorry." Zed takes a deep breath and places his hands on her back, pushing her gently towards him. Kissing her softly.

She places her hands on the sides of his face, slowly rubbing his cheek with her thumb. The kiss quickly becoming a passionate make out.

Zed rubs her back up and down and places the palm of his other hand on the back of her head, his long fingers accidentally knocking the headband off.

(Y/n) Pulls the kiss apart and giggles against his lips. "Careful there, sir~" She teases, placing the headband back in her head.

"Sir? I thought I was you're good boy?" Zed teases back, kissing a trail down her jaw.

"Ptff, you haven't done anything good yet." She pants, placing her hand on his head.

"Oh, yeah? What do I need to do then bunny? How can I be a good boy?" He asks, moving to her neck.

(Y/n) blushes at the sudden confidence, but quickly calms herself, and pulls his hair, slightly pushing his head back and away from her neck.

"Stand up." She demands.

He obeys, standing back on his feet. "And?" He asks, (Y/n) still kneeling down.

She hums, pretending to think. Quietly she takes off her shirt. Zed covers his eyes. "...what are you doing?"

"Oh, right. Sorry." He chuckles, taking his hands off his eyes. "Nice rack." He smirks.

"So I've heard." She giggles. Crawling over to his legs she takes off his belt.

"Um-"

"It's ok." She gently unzips his fly and unbuttons his pants. "I know what I'm doing. Just relax." She takes off his pants and his boxers. His member sprong out and hit her on her face. "Wow.....big." she mumbles out.

"Uh, thanks?" He gasps out. "Is-is it gonna fit in your-"

She cuts him off by placing kisses along the sides of his shaft. Once she texted the base she started licking around it.

Zed covers his mouth and watches with widen eyes and a flushes face.

She smirks up at him and takes it into her mouth. "Hmm, it's tastes pretty sweet." She mumbles out.

He shuts his eyes and roughly grabs a patch of her hair for support. She giggles at his flustered-ness and bops her head.

"Wait. Wait. Wait."

She halts for a moment, "already?"

"No-I-I need to sneeze."

"....are you serious-"

Zed covers his mouth with his arm and sneezes three times. "sorry. Did I ruin the moment?"

"...yeah." she playfully rolls her eyes. "It's ok, I can keep going-"

"No, it's fine." He pushes her head back and gets back on the ground. He grabs her wrists and pins her to the floor. "I wanna use my bunny girl now." He states in a low growl.

(Y/n) gulps, pulling against his strength, but fails. "I-I have a con-"

"It probably wouldn't fit anyways."

"Cocky, much?"

He laughs, and rolls his eyes. He slowly puts a hand up her skirt, moving her panties to the side, fingers dipping through her folds.

(Y/n) let out a moan as he rubs through her slick. “All this and I've barely touched you, bunny?” He teases, now lining up his cock and he slowly sinks into her soaking heat.

“Fuckkk.” Zed groans out, one hand gripping her hip and moves his other to hold her hand tightly for support. He begins to thrust in and out of her at an agonizing pace. She closes her eyes tight and uses her other hand to wrap around his neck.

“Fuck, Zed, fuck me.” she moan, hips slapping into his own with each harsh thrust

"Am I your good boy, bunny?” He asks, still relentlessly pounding into you.

"So good, you fuck me so good, Zed.” she praise him, rubbing her hand up and down his neck as her climax straying to build up.

"Better than any human?"

"Way better. And bigger." She giggles, her moans interrupting. "Just-pull out, ok?"

"Yeah, got it."

"Am I a good bunny?"

"Best bunny. Best fucking bunny."

He pulls his hand from hers, dipping it down to circle her clit. Her orgasm washing over as he continues to pound.

"Lord, now I need to sneeze." She pants out.

He laughs as his hips stutter and he’s pulling out, pumping his cock a few times before his white ropes shoot across her legs.

Zed exhales and lays down on top of her, slightly squishing her, but she doesn't say anything. She wraps her arms around him and they both lay in the silence.

"....now what?" He asks.

"...um, we go to class, I guess." She shrugs.

"......after that?!?" He asks, raising his head to look at you in bewilderment.

[backfromtwitterforw]

Pomme's diary found in the place she was with Richas (30 first pages)

Day 117

We walked for so long, longer than a day.

Chayanne thinks we'll be safe if we're far enough. I doubt that, because no matter what threatened us manage to find my secured bunker 200 000 blocks away, and even succeded to get into my room to put its letter. Honestly, I think we'll never be really safe anywhere.

Chayanne was panicking so much that we didn't even have time to prepare stuff before leaving. I tried to talk him out ot it, but they were all already gone and I couldn't leave them alone.

At least, I had the reflex to take one of my scythe. And fortunately so.

During our journey, I had to fight a lot of monsters. It's a miracle we all survived without armor or anything else.

We weren't far from death on multiple occasions.

I'll protect them no matter what.

That's a promise.

Day 118

We could build a little improvised camp. We're exhausted from the walk we had, we don"t have alot but it's better than nothing. The most important for now is to survive.

Dapper made a small makeshift field and planted seeds and potatoeshe had collected along the way, while we prepared tools and cut wood.

Tallulah played the flute to try to confort us and give us courage. She even leanred one of my favorite songs on the flute to try to make me smile again.

We make progress, slowly but surely.

Day 119

I think each one of us has tools now. We continued to gather ressources, especially trying to find enough food for everyone, because Dapper's field is not enough. But we didn't have great success, we have to be comptent with the bare minimum. We'll try to build a small shelter tomorrow.

It's hard to do anything because we are all exhausted from the trip. We found materiel to make sleeping bags, so they will finally be able to rest in better conditions.

I'll try to stand guard and watch over them during the night.

Day 120

We were able to start the construction of a small makeshift shelter. It doesn't look great but at least we have something to be protected now.

Truth be told, I haven't slept in a few days, I cannot allow myself to sleep.

We could be attacked at any time, by monsters or by the thing that threatened us. I'm scared it may trace our steps.

On multiple occasions, Chayanne asked me on multiple occasions to share the watch during the night, but I refused systematically.

I'd rather let him rest, and watch over Tallulah during the day. He's the one she trusts the most, he needs to be there to for her, and to protect her.

But I feel the tiredness winning over me.

I fight against exhaution as hard as I can, but I can see my reaction time and my moves becoming slower.

Day 121

The shelter is almost done, I'm so proud of them. They never let themselves be overwhelmed by fear and they do their maximum for everyone to be safe. We watch over one antother and that warms my heart to see it.

On the other side, food is continuously missing.

It soon gonna become a huge problem if we don't find a solution, we won't be able to hold much longer with the ressources we actually have...

I believe it's been a week I haven't slept, I'm trying to stay awake with always being busy. As soon as I am not, I feel my eyes closing by themselves.

It's especially difficult during the night. I spend them looking at the campfire crackling and making sure it doesn't extinguish by itself. We found material to make a lighter, so I play with it to pass the time: I found out the burning feeling is particularly effective to wake me up.

I miss my parents. I miss them excruciatingly.

It's so hard that they're not here with us. I regret all the time that we couldn't leave any note, any letter. They must be terribly worried for us, i feel terribly guilty...

I hope they won't resent us...

Day 122

Dapper amost died.

Dapper.

Almost.

Died.

We were talking about the pending lack of food, and he suggested we could explore the surroundings to find something to eat. I know exploring is something he adores, and he knows better than anyone the different kinds of existing ressources, so I also thought it was a good idea.

I suggested to come with him, but i assured me I didn't have to worry about him, that it wouldn't take him long to come back, and that it would be better for me to stay with the others to watch over them. So, I accepted. I trusted him.

But he went to fight against a skeleton. Or at least, what looked like a normal skeleton, but it wasn't one; this one had an armor and was able to shoot arrows at an abnormal speed, in addition to having knockback.

He thought it was a normal skeleton and attacked. But the skeleton was stronger and knocked him off.

I ran.

I ran so fast, every second mattered.

He cannot die, not like this, not now.

If he dies, I'll never forgive myself.

I managed to find him, and I could finish the skeleton off.

I ran to him to save him, just in time.

With tears in my eyes, I asked if he was ok and why he wanted to attack that monster way to strong for us even though we have no armor and barely any defense.

He just answered that he wanted bones to make bonemill, to speed up the growth of the seeds in the field. And also because he wanted to make a bone mask for Chayanne, since he didn't have his fetish skull.

He was so nonchalant in explaining it all, as if he didn't care about being do close to death.

[espinosaurusrexex]

Acid Fog

Wolds Collide Collection

BuckyBarnes x Female!Reader apocalypse au

summary: You take the chance to bond with a new friend when the acid fog rolls in, inevitably trapping you with Bucky for several hours. Bucky has to learn the hard way, that he won't get rid of you that easily.

a/n: I'm not dead. I just have so much to do. But you best believe, once I finally finished my papers, I will work on all the stories that are already outlined in my drafts 💚 please bear with me until then...

not prooread - will do so soon

word count: 2.6k

warnings: grumpy/sunshine, mentions of death, dystopia, deadly fog, reader is lonely, Bucky is lonely - they're gonna be lonely together, worried CatDad!Bucky, strangers to friends (for now)

collection playlist | main masterlist | collection masterlist

May 13th 2039

Hey, Book.

I’ve decided that Bucky needs a friend, so I’m going to visit him today.

Finding the handsome not-so-anymore stranger was a challenge. But you loved challenges. It mixed up the day, made things less boring, and was a nice way to spend your time.

You had planned things perfectly. You had enough time until the next acid fog would roll through, grabbed one of the canned soups that were rarely found anymore - but you’d gladly sacrifice them for a new friend, and you had a backpack ready with some essentials in case you wouldn’t make it home in time. 

You first headed in the direction Bucky took off to the other day after falling into your trap. There wasn’t much to “detour around” where you lived and chances of him being fairly close - considering being too far from shelter was a certain death sentence - gave you confidence with that approach. 

You walked for about two hours until the tree line faded into blotchy scatters of green. There was a house - or rather ruins of one - sitting by the edge of the forest. You frowned. Bucky wasn’t stupid. At least he didn’t seem that way. He would never hide above ground. Every decent survivor that had lived up to this point knew ‘low was the go’. The chances of being killed were cut to 20% when you lived secluded and underground - the beach was good too apparently, but you were too far to see for yourself. 

Your eyes swayed to the ground. You had a feeling Bucky was here, you just needed to find out where exactly. So you approached the ruins and stepped through what was left of the doorway. Dust and dirt covered the surfaces, ripped cushioned sofas, and scratched hardwood floors. There wasn’t much left to use here. The place was looted and brittle with holes in the ceilings and missing steps. You wondered how you ever recognized it as a house in the first place - because, really, this was anything but. The bones barely held up the remains and made it seem like an oversized version of a carport. 

It wasn’t long until you had scouted the place and reached the other end of it. Now you were standing on the porch and looking out onto a wild yard that reached into the forest again. You walked down and towards it, searching the area and still feeling as though Bucky was close. He couldn’t have lived any further - it would have been crazy. 

The leaves rustled beneath your feet as you skipped vines and roots peaking from beneath. Your eyes swept the area until they landed on an odd-looking lot of ground. As if the branches were forcefully pulled to cover up a buried something, the vines stretched over a green-grayish ledge. 

Immediately you headed for it. This has got to be it, you thought until you reached an opening into the ground that revealed a heavy-looking bunker door. 

Heck yeah. You knew he wasn’t that stupid - even though he did fall into your trap...

As soon as you opened it and entered, it felt as though you had stepped several decades back. The whole interior seemed to be dipped in sepia. Old furniture crammed into odd places and neatly kept surfaces without dust made it look like an old photograph. 

You walked further, let your hand wander over the spines of the books aligned atop a lonely shelf on the wall. They were Cyril, you guessed, as you watched the golden letters shine when you passed them. Beneath the books and next to a booger green armchair was a record player, aligned with old records of people with excessively gelled hairstyles and tailored suits - ancient. 

But Bucky was nowhere to be found. 

A heavy sigh escaped you as your backpack landed on the ground and you went about scouting the bunker some more. The space wasn’t too big, and Bucky seemed to have accumulated a bunch of treasures there for some time now, so you had plenty of things to discover. Eventually, though, you just fell back into the ugly armchair and tried to start up the record player. 

Bucky’s music wasn’t particularly your go-to, but you wouldn’t complain in a world where music was as rare as a working outlet. After a while, you could even understand why Bucky resided here. It was kind of comforting - homey. Something not many people could call their own in this world.

“What the hell are you doing here?” You shot up, knocking over a couple books and earning a dark glare from the man in the doorway - Bucky. 

You hadn’t even heard him come in. “I... I just wanted to see you,” you explained with an excited smile on your face. "I brought soup!" Your hands pointed towards your backpack.

“You- you broke in!” His boots stomped over to you just as you turned to pick up the pile of paperbacks. 

“Well, it’s not so much breaking in when we’re friends.”

“We’re not friends.” Bucky reached forward and snatched the items from your grasp. He was slightly sweaty, grime covering his forehead, and settled in the harsh frown lines you could only see because he was so close. 

“Yes, we are! You fall into my trap, you are my friend.” You ticked off the points with your fingers just as Bucky threw his hands in the air. 

“You can’t just make up these ridiculous rules.” 

“Or can I?”

“No. We can’t be friends. I don’t even know your name.”

He did have a point there. For a moment you watched as he neatly stacked the Russian books back in their place and then told him your name. 

“What?” He grumbled. 

And you just reiterated the words that you hadn’t said in forever. 

He turned back to you with a poker face. “I don’t like it,” Bucky said so monotonely, it almost seemed like he wanted to tease you. 

“Excuse me?” You weren’t offended, it was hard to make friends nowadays - there was nothing unusual about a person being hesitant at first. 

“It doesn’t fit you. You should be called trouble.“ He still had that dead look on his face and you were starting to think he just didn't know anything else. You wouldn't blame him - seriously.

“See! We are friends you know me!” You chuckled but Bucky just shook his head. 

“I don’t know you,” he whispered with slumped shoulders as he lowered his bag close to yours. Then he took off his hat and ran a hand through his shoulder-long hair. 

Man, he was kind of cute. But that was probably just the loneliness talking, so you shook out of it. 

You opened your arms and sunk back into the chair. “Well lucky for you we have a bunch of time to get to know each other now.”

And Bucky’s eyes widened. “What why?”

“The acid fog is rolling in early this evening.” You looked past him and out the entrance, where a deep gray sky covered most of the view. “I thought you knew... and that’s why you’re so, well, tense.”

“What, no I was just outside it’s-” The brunette turned and you could see his shoulders stiffen when he realized you were right. “Shit.” It was a low mumble that was followed by another nervous swipe through his hair. 

For a man who seemed to be cool, calm, and collected so far, his feet were doing an awful lot of pacing right now. 

“Are you okay?” You were careful to ask. Something was wrong and you didn’t want to risk him exploding. You didn’t know how he would react and a small sadness washed over your chest when you realized that maybe you weren’t as good of friends as you wanted to be. 

“Shut up.” Yup, definitely not the talking type then. 

“Can I help you or is ther-“ You were interrupted by a soft meow sounding over the rumbling of the clouds. 

“Fuck, finally.” Bucky exhaled and knelt down, just to reveal a white fluffy cat tangling in his touch. 

“Uh...There's a cat in your bunker,” you pointed out and Bucky picked his stiffness back up ever so slightly. 

“Her name is Alpine. Touch her and you’re dead.” 

So this was what had this big, broody man’s panties in a twist. He was worried for his pet. That was super adorable, you had to admit. And it charmed you just that much more when you saw the way he cuddled her into his chest before setting her back on the ground. 

“I- Oh.”

As soon as he’d said it, Alpine had sauntered her way to you and rubbed her fluffy white face on your shin. You were just frozen in place - unsure what to do. You wanted to pet her so badly, but who knew what Bucky would do if you so much as moved now. 

“The cat has chosen. Don’t blame me.” You threw your hands in the air when Alpine started to purr and jumped only our lab. Now that she was so close to your face, you noticed that one of her eyes was missing, a darker patch of fur replacing the spot where it should have been, but it just made her that much more charming. 

Bucky glared at you for a good second and then moved to close the bunker in order to keep the deadly air out. And you took the opportunity to finally pet his cat. 

It had only been 20 minutes and Bucky was already regretting his decision not to send you out into the fog. 

First, you had broken into his home. Then you had declared you as friends, to which - for the record - he never agreed to. And then you had stolen Alpine’s attention. That was just the cherry on top of your pile of audacity. 

And though he had been told that he wasn’t a pleasant contemporary, he wouldn’t send people straight to their deaths like that. He was a grump, but he wasn’t cruel. So he settled on quietly sitting in a corner and hoping that you’d eventually grow tired of snooping through his belongings. 

But he still held a grudge. Because he hadn’t planned to spend so much time with anyone, really - except for Alpine, of course - and now he was stuck with you for at least three hours. You had basically forced yourself into his life with that agitating sunshine demeanor of yours and the annoying optimism in every single thing you did. 

You had to be broken, somehow. Nobody could be this happy at the end of the world. Because that’s what this was. The end. The time you had to wait out until you escaped the hell this world had become just to spend an eternity in the actual one. 

Yeah, Bucky believed in heaven and hell. Somebody had to be responsible for idiots like Hydra and he was sure there was an extra special lava pit reserved just for the god complex fogged imbeciles that were responsible for it all going to shit once and for all. 

Bucky huffed at your occasional ‘woahs’ and ‘oohs’ and shrugged off his jacket while you went through more of his things. There was nothing he could do anyway. Tying you up and gagging you until it was over would be incredibly awkward for both of you. So, as long as you didn’t break anything or talk to him, he deemed you safe. 

“Woahhh, that is so cool! Where’d you get that?” You suddenly said, and when he turned, Bucky saw you pointing at his metal arm. 

He looked down, turned it in the yellow gleam of the bunker lamp, and then focused on your face again. People had seen a lot these days, though none of them ever asked him about it. They either stayed silent or avoided him altogether - the latter of which he preferred. He didn't like talking about it. It wasn’t anything he was proud of for that matter.

“Nonya,” he grumbled and sat back in the chair he chose to reside in for the rest of the day. 

“What’s Nonya?” Your head cocked to the side and Bucky couldn’t help but crack a small smirk.

“Non ya business.”

And finally, you shut up. He exhaled, closed his eyes, and smiled complacently. However the silence didn’t last long. 

“Okay that was a good one but really, where did you get that arm - it’s amazing.”

“It’s not amazing and I don’t want to talk about it, okay? Now do me a favor and shut up before I set you outside”

“You wouldn’t dare. After all, I was the one that helped you out of that trap.”

Buck had already established that he wouldn’t. But the thought seemed ever so intriguing right this second. 

“That you built,” he deadpanned. “I’m done talking to you. Just be quiet for the next hour, so we both have a chance at surviving this thing.” Before I murder you or myself.  That last part only echoed in his mind before he grabbed a book and hoped deeply that you’d comply. 

You huffed and slumped in the chair next to him. Bucky only dared to glance at you once. Then he began reading, enjoying the silence you finally granted him. 

You watched Bucky read his book. Fascinated by the shapes on the page that didn't look like letters to you, you leaned over to him. Bucky was skimming the pages swiftly, turning pages before you could even look at all the lines and then starting all over again. 

When you leaned in a little too closely, he scooted back and hid the page from you with a glare. So, you stood up and sauntered over to the shelf again, tracing the printed covers with your finger. 

“They’re all in Russian,” you pointed out after you had grazed the last spine. Most of the books were bound in brown, grey, or red. 

“So?” He just shrugged, not even bothering to look at you.

“Do you know Russian?”

“The guy that lived here first was Russian.” He shut the book finally, tracing the cover with his own fingers. “So, I taught myself.”

“You know, I can get you some normal books. I can’t imagine there’s anything interesting in there.” You stared at the Russian flag on most of the books. They looked like government-issued prints. Nothing like a fun novel or romance book.

“I don’t mind them, really...” Bucky set the book down and stood next to you. Then he scratched his stubble with his flesh hand. “Though, they all have a communistic touch.”

“See!” You pointed at him. “What do you like to read? I’ve got it all. Romance, fantasy, sci-fi.”

“No sci-fi please.” Bucky rolled his eyes and you could only imagine why. You’d had enough of it in the real world, so the sci-fi book you had once acquired during one of your town walks hat sat in the corner of your little home untouched.

“So, you’re not opposed to romance?” Your eyebrows raised suggestively only for Bucky to glare at you again.

Bucky huffed and sat back down. “Forget it. I'll read my Russian books.”

You chuckled and threw your hands up in defense. “Okay, okay. Fantasy it is.” And then you settled in next to him staring at the ceiling with a small smile and a giddy feeling in your chest. 

“See..,” you whispered, “I knew we would get along eventually.”

**Bonus

“Buckstar… Starbucks… Buck-”

“What are you doing?”

“I think it's only fair that if you give me a nickname, I can have one for you, too. How does Bucky-Buck sound?”

“No”

“Buckaroo.”

“Do I need to throw you out? Cause I will.”

“You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

“I thought I already had.”

"Good point… get out.”

“I can’t, the Fogg’s about to come!”

“Well, then I suggest you hurry your ass up, so it can’t kill you before I do.”

„I know you might not try to be, but you are very funny.“

*huffs in frustration*

Hey, Book,

Bucky's not that lonely anymore.

more…

Wanna be added to the taglist?

@circe143 @valkyrie418 @mirikusashes @noideawhyimdoingthislol @nikkitc0703 @lethallyprotected @erynnnn @misshale21 @wattpaduser200 @buckyseddie @adoreyouusugar @km-ffluv @mcu21lover19 @almosttoopizza @sociallyimpairedme @royalwritersoftheuniverses @i-l-y-3000 @mrsgweasley @prettylittlepluviophile @dinwifey @stuckysgirl27 @wintermischief @supersecretblogformytreasures @broadwaybabe18 @fridayiaminlove @buckybarnessimpp @goodkittyspost @justafangir1 @simpxinnie @bisexual-buckyfan @blackhawkfanatic @augustbucky @kandis-mom @harleycao @ashhsage @hhiggs

[talltalesandbedtimestories]

Just A Little Spice - Dean x Reader

“Just A Little Spice” - Dean x Reader

Rating Teen

Dean x Reader

Tags: Language, Dean Makes Bad Decisions, Dean in Mild Peril, Dean is Infuriating but We Still Love Him

Word Count: 1500

Dean likes to spice things up, but it would be nice if he didn’t have to put his life in danger in the process.

I'm participating in @jacklesversebingo and this part will fill my "I would burn down the world for you." dialogue square.

A/N: Something Short and Kinda Cute. I ended up finding a way to tie this to my other Bingo Square “Ice Play.”

Image created in Canva (photo used/found through Google Image Search)

You’d gotten back to the bunker a day later. Exhausted from the heat, satiated by the relief from the iceman. You’d found Sam organizing and labeling ingredients in his witchcraft cabinet. He was going to try a few new spells from Rowen’s bequeathed library. Realizing he needed some specialty items, he had to head up Nebraska way to meet with an herbalist who sourced supernatural spices.

Dean hovered near the cabinet, picking up jars, and mumbling pronunciations to himself. Sitting on a nearby stool beside a podium meant to support hefty grimoires for spellbook incantations, you chuckled at Sam’s constant swatting of Dean’s hands with each new inspection. You stared at Dean with your best telepathic “stop playing with your brother’s toys” look.

He frowned, relented, and placed a tincture back on a shelf. “That dude, Elijah?”

“Yep,” Sam huffed.

“What’s so important you gotta get right now?” Dean shrugged.

“Nothing important. I found a couple of spells that can change atmospheric pressure and manipulate temperature shifts. Was thinking those could come in handy in the greenhouse. Planning some experiments with out-of-season fruits and vegetables or plants that usually can’t grow in our area.”

You smiled. Sam had become quite the gardener the past year.

Sam eyed Dean in a way that cued me in on the fact that they had something private to discuss. Dean shot you a gentle “get the fuck out” request with raised brows and a head tilt.

“Alright, I’m gonna get unpacked.” You slapped your thighs and gave Sam a forearm squeeze as you passed. Dean tapped your ass on your way out.

You closed the door but lingered long enough to hear Sam, “I figured you were still planning something for-”

“Keep it movin’, sweetheart!” Dean bellowed.

You sighed and smiled to yourself. Dean had a surprise in mind for your anniversary.

~

You’d gone along with Dean’s ask for you to head out solo and grab beers and other supplies later that afternoon. Sam was well on his way to Nebraska by then. And, even if you didn’t play dumb well, you could give Dean time to do whatever it was he was doing for you.

Neither one of you was terribly romantic, but Dean could on occasion whip up the softest, cuddliest little moments.

So, two hours later, as Dean had nonchalantly yet specifically detailed for you to return, you stood outside the bunker door and readied for an anniversary celebration for the books.

Instead, after a hefty pull and the rattle and creak of the iron cell-like door, a plume of smoke released and assaulted your senses. Your eyes watered and you began to cough.

Beer and supplies dropped outside the threshold, you covered your mouth and nose with the collar of your T-shirt and darted inside. You crab walked down the stairs, below the cloud of smoke that hovered at the ceiling. Emergency flood lights flickered over the war room, washing it in an eerie red glow.

The bunker door slammed shut when your boots hit the ground floor, but that never happened. Some sort of automatic electrical protocol engaged for a lockdown scenario?

“Dean!” You tried your best shout to carry through the cavernous levels. He wasn’t in the library and the source of the smoke wasn’t anywhere near your current location. You dashed to the kitchen to what you assumed held the source.

You rounded the kitchen entrance. The contents of a heavy stock pot flicked with flames and churned out thick puffs of smoke on the stovetop. Your heart stopped, finding Dean splayed on the floor by the oven. Your eyes widened. Your coughing worsened at the acidic, burning taste filling your nose and mouth.

“Dean!” you called out again between wheezes. In the hazy film of smoke you spotted his head roll at your voice. You surveyed the area in seconds. You dropped to your knees and crawled over to him. You nestled by his side, grabbed his face by the jaw and jiggled. “Dean?”

“Hm?”

“Are you alright?”

His lids flitted open. Upon a deep inhale, his coughing fit began.

You’d freak out and try to figure out what irritant or poison was in the smoke later. For the moment he was alive.

After shielding him from further smoke inhalation, you dragged him by his ankles out of the kitchen unceremoniously up and over a step. The back of his head cracked onto the granite with one of your sharp tugs. He cursed into a terry kitchen towel you’d wrapped around his mouth and nose. About 20 yards into the shit show of a rescue he had enough awareness to flip onto his stomach and urge you that he could manage.

You hopped up, lungs on fire, and ran back into the kitchen despite his yelling and a failed attempt to hook his hand around one of your shins. You grabbed the fire extinguisher in the kitchen corner, pointed the nozzle at the pot, and, from a safe distance, sprayed the flame retardant all over the stove.

The fire was finally out and with it the smoke production.

A familiar smell wafted through the heat now that the flames had dissipated. Roasted Pork? Barbecue?

Arms dropped to your side. They were heavy and searing from the exertion. Tears poured from your eyes. Through blurry blinks as the scene cleared, you spotted a tiny glass jar a few feet from where you’d found Dean.

The extinguisher clattered to the floor. You picked up the jar, examined it with a sigh, accompanied by many more coughs, and trudged your way back to Dean.

He was sat on the floor, back against one of the hall walls. He clutched the towel that had been wrapped around his face. He looked up at you with tear-streaked cheeks beneath the flashing red floodlights. “Thank Christ,” he wheezed out.

“You alright?” you asked and fell to your knees beside him. One hand steadied yourself on his thigh.

He nodded.

You waited a few agonizing minutes with him, gaze steady on each other. The air cleared as each second ticked by, enough for you to both begin to breathe with some regularity. The coughs subsided. His hand clutched yours and squeezed.

You pulled your phone out and dialed Sam.

“Hello?”

“Hey, Sam.” You swallowed, throat dry. “Got a question for you,” you rasped.

“Yeah, sure. You okay?”

“Just peachy.”

You watched Dean’s face begin to redden for another reason.

“Curious, what’s this firecracker pepper do from your stash?”

Sam’s silence on the other end didn't bode well. “Why?”

“I’m guessing it’s not an herb you’d use for culinary experiments.”

After three more beats. “He didn’t?”

“Yep, he did.”

“Holy shit! That stuff is highly combustible! It’s meant to oxygenate a fire and sustain it for a prolonged period.”

“Gathered that. Anything we should worry about with substantial smoke inhalation?”

“Nothing more than the usual. I can be back in a few hours.”

“No, no, we’re good. He’ll clean up his own mess.”

Dean frowned.

“You sure?”

“Absolutely. You enjoy your time away from us.”

Sam sighed. “For fuck’s sake. Never a dull moment.”

“Not with your brother it isn’t. Talk soon.”

You ended the call and stared at Dean. Hard. “Dean?” you prodded.

“We were out of pepper!” His shoulders lifted and met his ears.

“I was out getting supplies!”

“If I’d asked you to get pepper you’d have known I was cooking!”

“I already knew you were cooking for our anniversary, Mr. Not Subtle!”

“I wanted to surprise you,” he murmured. “We missed celebrating the way I’d planned because of the hunt. I was making those spicy pulled pork sandwiches you love with all the extra chiles. I tossed some of the pepper in and this fucking flash bomb happened. I jumped back and lost my footing. Hit my head and that was all she wrote.”

You leaned in to feel the knot on the back of his head. “You probably have a concussion.”

He shrugged. “Nothing new there. I’ll be fine.”

You fumed, nostrils flared. “How can you be so, so-” you tossed your hands in his direction, “-this!”

He dared to toss you a cheeky grin.

“Dean, it’s not funny! You could have burned the bunker down and who knows what could’ve happened to-”

He grabbed your face with both hands. Quietly, he stated, “I would burn down the world for you.”

“Don’t do that.” You whispered. “You aren’t gonna get out of me being mad at you.”

He smiled. “Good. That means we can finally have angry make-up sex.”

You pursed your lips together and swallowed down a laugh.

His expression turned serious. “I made a mistake. It happens. I’ll clean up the mess in the kitchen.”

The thunder in your chest faded away. “You can be so careless sometimes.”

He nodded.

“You just act first, think later.”

He nodded.

“Well, you're right that you’re cleaning up all that mess and whatever the hell you did to the bunker.” You pointed down the hall to the kitchen and up at the lights.

He nodded. “Absolutely, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine! You can kiss me now!”

He repeated. “Absolutely, sweetheart.”

[thepagemistress]

This post from @blanketforcas got the brainworms going but I didn't want to hijack the post so here's a little thing:

Castiel was woken by an overwhelming feeling of distress, of yearning.

For the briefest moment, he thought he was back in Purgatory. Listening to Dean's desperate prayers, wanting nothing more than to reunite with him but knowing it wasn't safe. He couldn't give in.

But no, this wasn't Purgatory. It was most definitely the bunker, and the warmth plastered along his bare back, the arms wrapped around his chest were most definitely Dean's.

Before Castiel could say anything, a mutter sounded from behind him.

"Sorry."

"Dean-"

The arms tightened their grip, Dean's forehead pressing in between Castiel's shoulder blades.

"'m sorry," he said again, louder this time and all the shakier for it.

Fully awake now, Castiel managed to shuffle his way onto his other side, never quite shaking Dean's grip, until they were facing each other. "What's wrong?"

Eye contact was in short supply as Dean sucked in a breath. "Happens sometimes. Kinda thought it would stop once I got my shit together-"

"We got our shit together," Castiel corrected, earning an amused huff.

"But guess that was too much to hope for, huh. I mean, I got everything I could possibly want, right? So why the hell do I feel like if I don't like crawl inside you, I'm gonna fucking combust?"

It's said in such a rush, it took a moment for Castiel to even parse the words. "I know what you mean."

Dean scoffed and it was wetter than Castiel liked. "Sure."

"No, Dean, you misunderstand," Castiel said, finally earning eye contact. "I know what you mean."

Dean stared at him, into him, waiting for him to find the right words.

"When I rescued you from hell, we were both in our purest forms. Your body was still in the ground and I had yet to procure a vessel. It was just your soul and my grace, completely entwined. Perhaps...perhaps part of your soul craves a return of that feeling. Just as my grace does."

The awe in Dean's eyes was like divine revelation. "Huh. You really do know what I mean." It was teasing, but his relief was palpable.

"I'm sorry I never made the connection before..." he started but Dean shook his head, sniffing as he curled in tighter, tucking his head under Castiel's chin.

"'s ok. I know now. It helps." They lay in silence for a few moments before Dean spoke up again. "Could we..." Castiel sucked in a surprised breath, realising what Dean was about to ask. Pulling back again, Dean's sharp eyes darted across Castiel's face before asking again. "Could we?"

With a not inconsiderable amount of effort, Castiel managed to swallow down the frantic desire to claw his way to Dean's soul there and then. "Not tonight," Castiel uttered, voice gruff and eyes wild. Things that clearly didn't escape Dean's attention since Castiel didn't pick up on any feelings of rejection from the other man.

"That's not a no," Dean said.

"Definitely not a no," Castiel confirmed, earning an amused smile. "I just...need to make sure I know I'm not going to do any damage. I need to have control. Certainly more than I would have right now."

Dean's amused smile turned into a smug smirk. "Yeah? Gets you all hot and bothered, huh?"

"Dean, holding your soul within my grace has been the single greatest privilege bestowed upon me and I have wanted nothing more than to feel it again."

"Oh," Dean breathed, sobering immediately.

"The fact that it's possible your soul might feel the same way is...overwhelming, to say the least. I need some time. Will you give me that?"

"Yeah, course. Course, Cas. However long you need." Castiel kissed Dean on the forehead, wrapping his arms around his shoulders as he felt the man slip back into unconsciousness. "Worth the wait," he mumbled, just before sleep claimed him.

"I know what you mean," Castiel whispered.

[natasha-in-space]

Alright, I'm gonna babble a bit on my thoughts and observations with the magnificent CG's we got for the Choi boys' birthday this year 'round! And, boy, what beautiful CG's they are. I acknowledge that some had problems with them, but I honestly couldn't be happier. Both of them made me feel giddy for two days in a row! The artist did a fantastic job, and it's a treat to still get some new content from Cheritz. Now, let's start with Saeyoung!

God, do I adore the soft, domestic feel of this one. It's peaceful, intimate, and tender in a way that sharing a special moment with the one you love is. I am a sucker for simple domestic moments of romance, so even I admittedly swooned at this one!

Since it's dark outside, we have two options. It's either a small private celebration between you two after he spent the day with his brother and RFA, or you're congratulating him as soon as the clock strikes midnight. I find both options equally sweet and fitting! Either way, you are sharing a small private moment with him, with just you two for a small while. I believe he would be deeply grateful for that.

It looks like he's gotten himself a place out in the city! Isn't that a lovely thing to see? I do think he'll keep his bunker, whether it's for potential emergencies or just for safekeeping, but I always loved the idea of Saeyoung creating a new home for himself, however that may look like. It is logical for his new apartment to have large windows that are high enough to see the night sky. It's very much Saeyoung. And it's very much Saeran, too! During the day, Saeran enjoys the warm sunlight and vast clouds, while Saeyoung enjoys looking at the stars and teaching you about space at night.

He made sure his new home had windows because his bunker didn't have any. A reminder of his new freedom to live out a peaceful life with his family without needing to look over his shoulder at every step.

We have some gifts laid out in the background! The interpretation of whether this is from you, Saeran, or RFA is up to you. I like the latter option. It does make you think what kind of gifts would everyone prepare for him! Lots of funny and/or sweet ideas to think about.

There are also lots of frames hung up on the wall and laid out on the shelves. It made me giggle. Because of course, Saeyoung would litter his home with photos of you once he gets the freedom to do so. It's even a bit excessive, but how can you complain? This man was terrified of having evidence of his own existence out in the world for years. Not to mention that he was not allowed to have any reminders of the people he loved, as he was afraid of their safety.

Of course, he will make sure to surround himself with reminders of a brighter future now that he can. Selfies with you, photos of Saeran reading a book or cooking, and outings with the RFA. All such precious moments he doesn't want to take for granted.

As many have already pointed out, the cake is from Saeran! Ain't that sweet? The first time I noticed it, I glowed with joy because I adore the idea of Saeran making something by hand for his older brother. Saeyoung was always the giver and protector in their relationship, back when they were kids... Now, they can start over with more balance. And Saeran can also take care of his brother. I can't help but think of him spending hours in the kitchen, making sure everything is perfect, and that's just... so damn heartwarming. I love these two and their love for each other. They deserve to be together without fear.

@marshmallowprotection went over the details of the cake very thoroughly in her post, so I won't go over it personally, but, oh my God, of course Saeran would put in small meaningful details into his cake. It's so much like him. From the flowers to cherries and whatever that is written in that envelope. I am certain that Saeyoung will likely shed tears upon reading it. Heck, Saeran can just scribble out a big 'Happy birthday Hyung :)' on there, and it'll make him cry just as much.

Saeyoung is unfamiliar with being taken care of or appreciated. It will take him some time to stop getting emotional over the smallest things when it comes to his family.

Speaking about the CG as a whole, I love how relaxed and tender he looks. It's nothing fancy, just a black shirt and jeans. That's what makes it so soft and domestic for me. It's just you and Saeyoung. In your home. Being together and cherishing each other. And that's better than any grand display.

We get to see more of Saeyoung's arms!!! I always love when they splice up some things that are very much true to canon. While it doesn't make any sense at all to make Yoosung or Saeran muscular jocks, it's very much in line with Saeyoung. It's easy for those arms to lift you up and hold you tight! I also actually like that he's visibly broad in here. I know it's not everyone's interpretation, but it makes him actually look, y'know, older. Even though he'll be 21 forever, it's pleasant to imagine him in his late twenties or early thirties. I know most of my guy friends got very broad in the shoulders once they hit their middle twenties lmao

I also very like MC's dress. It's super cute and comfortable. And that watch on Saeyoung's wrist? Another nice touch. I don't know why, but I always pictured him into watches lol. Mostly because he seems to have a soft spot for anything technical. It's easy to see him being fascinated by the inner workings of different watch models. He's such a nerd (affectionate)

Look at that giddy smile! He's such a cutie. Love to see him be all happy like that. Also his hair is once again super red. I'm telling you, it changes color depending on his mood. It's my biggest theory in whole MM storyline/j

AND NOW ONTO THE MAN HIMSELF, THE ONE I'VE BEEN BENDING MY KNEE FOR EVER SINCE I SAW HIM, THE ONE I IMPLODED MY DM'S OVER-

Ahem

Yes. We got an actual official Unknown/MC CG. The fandom exploded. I know I saw it, I know you saw it, we all saw it. Unknown took the fandom by storm, and he knows it. Look at that smirk. I even saw quite a few old MM artists thinking of coming back just because of him lmao

That's the power this man holds.

Alright, my incessant ramblings aside, this CG looks absolutely ethereal. And it's pretty much intentional. Goes in line with Unknown's aesthetic, too. I know we all love to lovingly call him the king of edge that he is, but from what we see of him? He'll probably put you in something similar. He is your guardian angel, after all. The one who will lead you to a true paradise you couldn't even hope to reach by yourself. He is your loving shepherd, and you are his precious lamb.

The placement of Unknown in such a graceful environment makes sense.

So, Unknown's cake has strawberries AND blueberries on it. No wonder many people instantly remembered the birthday CG from two years ago! It's a nice and interesting comeback. Once again, redirecting you to @marshmallowprotection analysis post for the in-depth on it, because she lays it out beautifully! I'll just say that it's intriguing to note that besides strawberries, blueberries appear to be another confirmed favorite of Saeran's. I know I love my blueberries.

Here's to hoping that this is a fake cake, because if I see food drowning like that, I would riot, no matter how beautiful and enticing Unknown may look 😔 You're eating that cake, mister! You are not wasting it for a pretty aesthetic!! It also begs the question who made the cake in the first place, and Kait puts out a very interesting thought that this is, in fact, a photoshoot. It's also comforting to think that MC was behind it. Just because I'm a sucker for the idea of Unknown getting spoiled for once in his lifetime. He also seemed to be rather yearning in his birthday chats that you can purchase, so it's a sweet thought for me.

MC is absolutely gorgeous here. I have zero complaints. Unknown is one lucky man, and he knows it. Her skin is perfectly complimented by that shade of pink, and she looks like a nymph or something. I also love how flowy the dress is. You can just tell how soft that fabric is to the touch, and I am on my knees both for this MC and the artist for all their hard work. Also!!! MC has an actual eye visible for once! Always a nice and rare surprise.

The dress is pretty revealing, too, and I couldn't stop giggling once I actually noticed that. What can I say? Unknown knows his tastes, and I sure respect him for that. As I said in another post, her lap is definitely not the only thing he lays his head on, and I am, frankly, jealous of him.

All that to say.... guys. MC is just a stand-in. She doesn't look like 90% of the player base. Heck, I look nothing like this MC! Please don't be discouraged just by how she appears in certain CG's! There are plenty of guys, queer folks and women who look nothing like her, who love and adore Saeran as a character. And you know what? All of you would be loved and appreciated by Saeran. Whatever weight, whatever gender, whatever skin color you are. Your own unique appearance will make you just as ethereal next to him. Because it's you.

Saeran has the same love for you as you have for him. Unknown included!

Now onto the man himself..... God.... how gorgeous he is...... I know I felt like I was falling in love with him all over again when I saw him, pfft-

Who is Unknown without his belts and chokers? Once again, Unknown knows what he likes, and I respect the hell out of it. You go king!

Need I say that they gave him freaking EARRINGS???? I know I wouldn't be freaking out about that as much, if it wasn't a fan thing for years. And now he gets the earrings we all knew he deserves in canon. Life could be a dream.

He also has a cross. Which is a rather... interesting choice. Once again, @marshmallowprotection goes over it in detail in her post. Another fun personal interpretation I had (bc I love giving a darker vibe to things) is that perhaps this image is taken after Saeyoung got captured by Mint Eye. Unknown takes and wears his brother's cross as a mockery of his brother's faith and as a declaration of his triumph. I must say, though, that's, like.... 99% not what is intended here, and just my personal fun musings.

I also find it both hot and hilarious that Unknown has his shirt open like that. He saw his brother's CG and went: 'oh hell no, I can do better'. He's so extra, and I adore him. I also don't think he's muscular here???? He's not depicted as broad or buff. I think people just misinterpret the art style a bit. He doesn't really have any prominent muscle here, and it looks significantly different to Saeyoung's CG. I think the artist just either didn't have much time to flesh it out (an issue Kait goes in detail over), or they had trouble with depicting what they wanted to depict. Or I'm just talking out of my ass here, and they really did make him jacked, but my eyes will continue to willfully choose to not see that 😔

All that to say, I definitely went feral over this guy showing so much skin, and the desire to BITE is strong with this one.

He'll be on my mind first the rest of the year. What an absolute treat.

It's so much like Unknown to be all snazzy and cordial with you. I love how they showcased his mannerisms here. It's irrelevant whether you interpret it as cunning or genuinely affectionate here. That smirk is very much Unknown, and we all know it. I wanna smooch his cheeks so bad. Kait also went over the flower analysis in her post, so I highly advice you to check it out!!

In summary, I couldn't be happier with what we got this year. This is everything I ever wanted and more. Will be definitely writing individual pieces for these, because how can I not?

[shesmyboot]

No Matter What

*Gif belongs to its rightful owner, it is not mine*

Pairing: Matthew Casey x reader

Summary: From Anonymous: Hellooooo ‘Stay behind me no matter what.’ Matt Casey :) ~~ Matt Casey + Reader + Fire Call = Hookups in his Quarters (I don’t make the rules)

Words: 682

Warnings: Intimate moment, canon typical events

Read on Ao3 here

Notes: Sorry it’s so short, but I hope you like it Anon!

Join my taglist here

Tags: @mrspeacem1nusone @kiddbegins @pensfan5871

__

“Need any help with the inventory?” Sylvie asked.

“I think I’m finished up,” you laughed, "you bored or something Brett?"

"I know I've only been in Chicago for a few months, but this is the first shift I've had with no-"

"I'm gonna cut you off right there before you jinx us. Those who say the 'Q' word or even think about the lack of runs is a jinx to the whole house."

"How do you know this?"

"Candidiate a few years back-"

Battalion 25, Truck 81, Engine 51, Squad 3, Ambulance 61, building fire, 723 North Wabash

"Looks like you are the new jinx, Sylvie Brett," you laughed, hopping into the passenger seat of 61, "and the jinx gets to drive."

Sylvie started the short drive to the scene, "how's it going with you and Casey?"

"Good, yeah, we're in a good place. It's weird to date someone you work with though. I'd never done that before Matt."

"Helps that your crazy schedules are synced."

"True that," you giggled, pulling up to the fire.

You hopped out of the rig and grabbed the jump bag before heading over to Boden.

"Where do you need us, Chief?" you asked.

"Two still inside, owner needs to be checked out."

As you and Sylvie tended to your victim, you could hear the commotion between truck and squad.

'Chief, I need a medic inside if you have one to spare' your radio buzzed. 

"You good here?" You asked Sylvie.

"Yup, go."

You threw your bunker coat on and grabbed the jump bag.

"Medic coming in now, Casey. Where am I going?" you said, hustling towards the fire.

"I'll come get you, we're turned around in here."

You stopped and waited at the door. 

"Fire is pretty much out," he announced, "follow behind me."

You followed Casey into the building and up the stairs. 

"Baby, I need you to stay behind me no matter what," Matt admitted, "I don't know what hapened in here and I don't want anything to happen to you."

You nodded and followed him up the stairs to the second floor of the building.

"Victim is over here. Burns and possibly a neck injury as far as we can tell.”

“Thanks. Conscious?”

“In and out.”

You leaned down beside your victim.

“I’m a paramedic, I’m here to help you,” you introduced yourself as you undressed the victim of his jacket. 

“Matt, you’re right. I’m worried about a neck injury. Grab the collar.”

Your boyfriend, now assistant, handed you your supplies.

“Help me get him out of here. It’s getting hotter in here.”

He nodded, picking up the jump bag beside him and handing it to you. 

“Got him?” You asked.

He nodded and brought your victim outside.

After finding Sylvie, you loaded up the victim while Sylvie got the oxygen ready for the ride to the hospital.

——

Returning to the house after your run, you looked in the ambo’s mirror.

“Brett, did you seriously let me ride around with soot on my face?” You laughed, trying to rub it away.

You walked into the now full common room with your partner.

“So are we finally gonna convince you to take the firefighter’s test?” Herrmann asked.

“Haha, very funny Herrmann. 61’s my home, always will be.”

“I’m sure we’ll get you over here at some point,” he chuckled.

You ducked out of the common room and into the bunk room, where you peeked into Matt’s office. 

“Got a minute?” You asked.

“For you? Always.”

You locked the door behind you.

“You know,” you laid down, semi-seductively, on his bed, “they way you said ‘stay behind me no matter what’ on that last call was-“

He leapt up from his chair and drew the blinds. 

“Was what?” He smiled.

“I was kinda sexy,” you grinned.

“Oh yeah?” He leaned in for a kiss.

“Yeah.”

“You know what else is sexy?” He broke the kiss for a moment, “you with all that soot on your face.”

“I guess we should do something about these feelings then, huh Matt Casey?”

“I think you might be right.”

[livviewritess]

Daddy's little Trooper🎖️

Summary: Nadia (Daryl and y/n's child) gets hurt, and she pushes through, much to Daryl's expense.

Era: post terminus, pre hospital

Fandom: the walking dead

It was cold. Daryl had scouted out a hut with Beth, after the prison fell. He had lost rick, Glenn, Maggie.. and his wife and kid. He was fuming. He felt like the world was against him. Everything just failing, making his life extremely hard.

They had settled in what looked like an alcoholics bunker of some sort, finding stashes of vodka and spirits. He was slightly drunk, he had to admit.

It wasn't long after the argument with Beth over the whole 'Never have I ever been to prison,' bullshit. He had calmed down, and was talking to Beth on the little, cracked up porch at the back of the shack.

"Hmm. You're lucky you're a happy drunk." Daryl said, resting his head on the wooden pillar behind him.

"Yeah, I'm lucky. Some people can be real jerks when they drink."

"Yeah, I'm a dick when I'm drunk.." He said, taking another swing of his quite nasty bottle. Beth sighed, and looked up at him. Twigs snapped. Daryl grabbed his crossbow, peering out over the dark woody forest. "Go inside, now." He said, aiming his crossbow at the treeline, waiting for a walker to stumble out. Or maybe a dozen. Beth curried inside, shutting the door.

Something stumbled out. But it wasn't a walker. It was Nadia. Daryl's baby girl. Nadia was around 6. Long, brown hair, and bright blue eyes. She was the girl version of her old man. Daryl rushed over, scooping her up.

A warm, red substance coated the calloused palms of his hands. It was blood. Nadia's blood. His stomach dropped. He thought of the worst: 'did she gets bit? Did she get stabbed? Is she gonna turn?'

He darted inside, slamming the door behind him, and placing her on the old, leather couch that seemed to be holding together by a thread. "Beth! I need help!" He shouted, and Beth came to his aid with the med kit they had gathered up.

He ripped her shirt up, discovering what looked like an arrow wound straight through her side. He winced, having felt this exact pain back at Hershel's Farm, where he fell down that hill and got an arrow stuck in his side too.

"shit!!" He cursed, scrambling to wipe the blood away. Nadia was unfazed. Like it was nothing. She was a little shocked, but nonetheless fearless. She looked at him as if he was overreacting. He grabbed a bandage, wrapping it around her as quick as he could.

"Really papa? It's not tha' bad." She says, eating a protein bar she had found. Daryl looked at her dumbfounded. "What the hell are ya' talkin' bout? Ya coulda died, sunshine!" He said, Beth giggling in the corner. Daryl sat her upright, Nadia wincing a bit. She continues to nibble on the bar. "I'm fine papa. You taught me real good." She exclaims, finishing the food. "You're mah little trooper huh?" He said, poking her non-punctured side.

"Daddy's little trooper."