#SPNfic

[spnangelsanddemons-rb]

Title: The Angel Next Door (and the Zombie Squirrel) Author: FriendofCarlotta (@friendofcarlotta) Artist: jollyrolls (@jollyrolls) Rating: Explicit Warnings: No archive warnings apply Tags: Modern AU, Angel Cas, Fluff and Crack, Romantic Comedy, Dead Squirrel (or is it?) Word count: 9,264 Featured characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel, Sam Winchester Featured relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester Summary: Dean’s life is fine. He might get a little lonely sometimes, but that’s to be expected when you’re a single guy in your forties. But then a new neighbor moves in next door — an extremely hot, blue-eyed neighbor who seems to be some kind of magnet for bizarre and miraculous events. (Listen, that squirrel was dead. Dean’s sure of it.)

Will Dean solve the mystery of the man next door?

Link to fic | Link to art

[roonyxx]

The Raven: Part 4

Summary: A new threat to the world brings the boys back in action. She is big and bad, very bad. But is everything as it seems or is there more to her story?

Pairing: Dean x reader

Trope: enemies to lovers

Word count: 2417

Chapter warnings: some violence, language

A/N:  I know it has been AGES since I wrote, i'm trying to get back into it. I know nothing really exiting happens in this chapter but it is one of the most complicated stories I have done and it needs some building. I really hope you like it!

The Raven Masterlist

My Masterlist

Buy me a coffee

“The truth, Dean.”

Those words keep coming back to me. What truth? About what she did or does Heaven know more than they let on?

We kept researching but it’s useless, aside from the codex we have nothing on her. But something about her bugs me. Not only that her smells seem to linger everywhere I go, but I think that I have been sleeping better because of her, how? I have no idea...

“I think we need to go to Heaven and see what is up there.” Sam interrupts my thoughts.

“I asked Cas to look into it. He’s been gone for days. You think he’s alright?” I start, “What if Heaven doesn’t want Cas to tell us and they kept him?”

“Wouldn’t be surprised if they did that.” Sam sighs, “We can summon him.”

“Let’s do that.”

While Sam and I prepare the summoning my mind keeps wandering to my dreams.

Tonight was different, normally it’s just me on my back floating and these phantom hands that gently touch my face and chest.

Tonight I could have sworn I felt lips too, gently pressing against my cheeks and neck, and there was this soft rain, I felt gentle drops falling on my face.

“Dean?” Sam pulls my head from the clouds.

“Huh what?” I look at him.

“Are you okay? You seem out of it.”

“I’m good, I was just thinking, do you…” I look up at him and wait for him to stop messing with the sigils for the summoning, “Do you smell jasmine too?”

“What? No I smell chalk.” He says while holding up the white piece of chalk.

“I don’t mean now, but just in general.”

“No? Why?”

“Nothing, just forget it and let’s get our angel back.” I sigh.

We do the summoning and Cas appears right in the circle we have drawn.

“Cas!” My eyes widen and I run to him when I see the state he is in.

He collapses to the floor just when I reach him, his nose is bleeding, his lip is split, he has numerous cuts on his cheek and his entire face is bruised.

“What the hell happened!” I demand when Sam and I help him sit up on a chair.

“H-Heaven” He grunts out, “I found out what happened and they didn’t want you to know, so they kept me. Until your summoning forced me out.”

“Why wouldn’t they want us to know! We’re trying to help them.” Sam grunts out while getting a first aid kit for Cas.

“They don’t want humans like you to interfere with their business.” Cas says.

“Assholes” I groan, “What did she do?”

“She created an anomaly in the time line.”

“What?”

“She went back in time and did something, I don’t know what. And Heaven wants to fix what she did but she is not letting them do it.”

“Do you know what she did?” I ask him.

He shakes his head, “I’m not even sure Heaven knows what happened. But it explains the world wide blast, messing with time line has a worldwide effect.”

I fall back in my chair, “can’t we ever catch a fucking break?”

“What now?” Sam starts “We can’t fix it, what are the consequences of what she did?”

“Heaven doesn’t want to wait and find out the consequences.” He grunts and stands up “I need to go back in time and see for myself.” He hoists himself up but he’s barely able to stand on his own.

“Woah woah take it easy.” I say as I help him sit back down, “You can barely stand, let alone time travel. Come just” I push him back in the chair and he lets himself sit with a rough exhaled breath “Rest for now. I’m sure her army isn’t ready yet.”

“We don’t know that.” Sam says.

“I think we would notice if an army of the death was walking the Earth.” I remark.

Sam is giving me a look, a dirty one. Like when we were younger and I was hiding an injury and got a heavy infection, he’s giving me that same look. Angry but worried.

“What.” I snap at him.

“Why do act like this when it comes to her?” he asks.

“What?” I frown “What the hell are you talking about!”

“I’m talking about how you tried  to stop a freaking bullet for her!”

I knew this was coming, ever since I did that Sam had been giving me wary glances.

“It was just instinct! I reacted to the sound!” I walk closer to him and throw my hands up in frustration, “You’re being ridiculous.”

“You’ve been around guns your whole life! You have never had this instinct before so it’s bullshit, and what about your dreams? You really expect me to believe she miraculously backed off?” Sam half yelled.

“Yes! I have no control over them and I’m sure you would notice when I have nightmares again. Get off my back, Sam. We’re supposed to fight her. Not each other.” I quip back.

“I… yeah I’m sorry, nothing here just makes sense” Sam starts, “We need to know what she did in the past.”

“Once I regain my strength, I can find out.” Cas says from the chair he is slumped in.

I nod and go sit next to him and pat him on the shoulder “Rest first.”

“Why help us?” I wonder to Rowena.

“Because I care for Earth, you nimwit” Rowena says to me.

“And you’re sure this will work?” Sam is holding the list of ingredients with the spell to capture The Raven on it.

“I guess, you’ll have to just trust me, Samuel”

“What about ‘not risking’ your neck. This sounds exactly like that.” I look at Rowena.

She’s become an ally to us. Knowing the Queen of Hell definitely has it’s perks. Funny how she used to be our enemy. She and Sam get along well, despite the fact that Sam killed her.

“Raising an army of the dead will stop the souls from entering Hell, my kingdom is on the line here. I wouldn’t earn to be Queen if I didn’t protect it. And I will hide when she arrives.” She smirks, “She might be the Queen of Death but I am the Queen of Hell, I have some tricks up my sleeve.”

“Cas has enough power to find some of these ingredients, I will give him the list” Sam says, he leaves to bring the list to Cas’s room.

Rowena is looking at me, actually she’s been looking at me since she arrived.

“What?” I ask her.

“Are you feeling well, Winchester?” she comes closer and looks me over, frowning a little while doing so.

“Yes? Why?”

“I don’t know… there’s something different about you, something feels off.”

“Different? Like what? Am I dying? Is it my soul?” I get worried, I have felt a little off recently, nothing bad, actually, it felt even good, very good. The ‘too good to be true’ kind of thing.

“I can’t put my finger on it… it started when you met the Raven? How do you feel?” she asks me.

“Yes, around that time, I feel… good. Really good.” I answer.

“Well, if it is good, there is nothing to worry about.” She shrugs.

Sam and Cas come back, carrying all the ingredients. Boxes and bottles of weird fluids and dust and even some bones.

Man, I hate withes.

“Oh you have everything already?” I say.

“Yes, so let’s do this.” Sam starts, “I don’t want to wait any longer, she needs to be dealt with, now.”

He sounds so determined to end her. I don’t think trapping her here is the smartest idea. She could bring this whole place down. Our home… I don’t want to lose it.

And the warning she gave me keeps haunting me, what truth, what is she hiding?

“Everyone ready?” Sam announces.

“I guess” I say a little unsure.

Rowena preforms the spell and disappears, the whole bunker starts shaking. The circle made of German forest herbs starts to burn wildly.

“Sam! End it!” I scream over the chaos.

“No! she’s almost here!” Cas yells back.

With a big blast, she arrives. Hunched in the middle of the circle. Her sleek long black hair is shielding her face. Her pale skin looks even more white against the concrete floor of the bunker.

I hear Sam draw in a sharp breath, and I realize, he never saw her in the flesh. He takes a step back when she rises and aims her empty eye sockets at us.

“You fools” her seethes at us, her voice sounds like a thousand voices in one. My entire body shivers at the sound of it.

“I am done warning you” she walks, no floats, to the edge of the circle, easily going over the herbs and going straight towards Sam.

Sam staggers back and he’s paler than I have ever seen him before. She reaches for him, but I push her sideways before she can.

“Don’t touch him, bitch” I stand in front of my little brother.

“Always protecting Sammy, daddy really beat that into your head, huh?” she mocks.

How does she know that… I told no one about the abusive behavior of my dad, not even Sam.

“Get the fuck back” I warn her, no one touches Sammy, especially not witches.

“Or what? You’re powerless against me, so is your angel and don’t think I can’t smell that Hell bitch Rowena.” She looks behind me at Sam “besides, Sam’s the only one I haven’t met yet. The vessel of Satan, how does it feel to be made for evil, Sammy?”

I push her, she doesn’t move one inch, but she does step back, in shock.

“DON’T touch me!” she spits at me.

“Don’t get near my brother and I won’t have to. Now can we act like adults or are you going to keep acting like a bitch?” I cross my arms over my chest and try to look not intimidated, but I am. She’s terrifying as fuck.

She straightens fully and looks me in the eyes with her empty sockets. Shivers spread over every inch of my skin. Where is her other body? The pretty one.

“Why summon me, knowing you have no way of protecting yourself.” she begins, “I warned you enough, feel my consequences.”

She clenches her fist and all three of us, even Cas, fall on our knees. The pain is like nothing I’ve felt before, it’s burning and stabbing at the same time.

“Stop!” Rowena appears with her hands raised, purple magic lifting the pain in our intestines slightly. But it is still unbearable.

“Let them go.” Rowena says, “Stop this now.”

“Or what?” she tilts her head at Rowena while dropping her fist. The pain evaporates and I can breathe again.

“You’ll hurt me? You’re no match for me Rowena. Stay out of this or I’ll take Hell down too.”

“What did you do to the timeline” Cas grunts out.

Her head snaps towards Cas, she briskly walks over to him and lifts him up in the air by his shirt. She’s extremely strong.

“How do you know that.” She snaps at him.

“Because you did a sloppy job, bitch.” I say. “What did you do? Made yourself powerful? Stole something or killed someone?”

She drops Cas and looks at all of us. “The smart move is to back off,” she looks at me, “You won’t like what you find.”

“The truth? And what is that exactly?” I say.

She’s looking at me, but I can’t read her expression. The eyes tell so much about a person. I often use the eyes of people to read them, to see if they’re lying or afraid. But with her, It is impossible.

“None of you wants to know. Trust me”

“Trust you?” Sam scoffs “You’re raising an army of the dead to march against Heaven. How is that in our interest?”

“Heaven is a liar and evil. You all have enough experience to know that!” she screams in frustration, “I am wasting my time here.”

“If Heaven is the bad guy here, why not let us help you?” maybe allying with her could prevent a war.

From the look Sam is giving me he thinks I am crazy, and maybe I am a little. She could be speaking the truth, Heaven has betrayed us many times. What makes it different this time?

“You help me?” she starts laughing “You hunters are nothing but ants underneath my feet.”

She looks each of us down, ending on me “I hate all of you.”

“Then why not kill us? You keep warning us, all bark but no bite.” I step closer to her, because I noticed that in fact, she doesn’t kill us. Hurt, yes. But never kill.

Her mask of horror witch slips and I see her clenching her jaw in frustration. A first sight of real emotion on her side. Meaning, she won’t kill us.

“You need us witch bitch?” I lean closer to her and that jasmine smell is wrapping around my body, making me smile.

“I do not.”

“But you can’t kill us.” I grin “So your threats are empty.”

My first mistake was laughing at her, my second was standing so close to her.

Her hand snaps out and grips my neck, her nails digging into my skin, drawing blood. She lifts me up in the air. My hands grasp her hand, trying to lessen the pressure and pulling myself up so I can breathe. In the corner of my eye I see Sam and Cas moving towards me.

“One more move and I snap his neck like a twig, I’ll deal with the consequences” she says to them but keeps her face on me.

She brings my face so close that her nose is touching mine, and I have a feeling she wants to pull me even closer.

Probably to feel me choke and see the fear in my eyes better.

“You are not stopping me from ripping that place out of the sky and burning it down. I don’t care who gets caught in the crossfire. They deserve to burn for what they took from me.” Her eyebrows lift up a little at that last sentence, as if she didn’t mean to let that information slip.

She drops me to the floor and when I catch my breath to look at her, she’s gone.

Forever Tags 2022: @jay-and-dean @wittysunflower @flamencodiva  @lyss-dw79 @waywardbaby @chocolateheart @msmarvelouslywinchester @danneelsmain @magssteenkamp @snowlovespie @awkward-and-indecisive @westerneyedwinchester @hobby27 @lunarmoon8 @yvonneeeee

Dean tags 2022: @akshi8278 @brilovesdeanwinchester

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[burntsecrets]

Dodging Cupid's Arrows

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader x Sam Winchester

Word Count: 2630

Prompt: Cupid's Got A Shotgun by Carrie Underwoods

Summary: An encounter with Cupid forces you to face your feelings for the Winchester Brothers.

Warnings: Emotional hurt/comfort, unresolved romantic tension, fear of emotional vulnerability, self-doubt, internal conflict, unrequited love, intense emotional introspection, defensive behavior, discussion of emotional scars, mentions of past relationship trauma, slow burn, protective behavior, Cupid intervention, romantic frustration.

The bar’s dim, sputtering light casts a weak glow overhead, barely illuminating the worn wooden tables and the scuffed floor beneath your boots. Shadows cling to the walls like old memories, and you sink deeper into your chair, swirling the last of your whiskey in the glass before taking a slow sip. The liquid burns as it slides down your throat, spreading a fleeting warmth through your chest, but it does nothing to calm the storm raging in your head. It never does.

It’s the same pattern every time, isn’t it? Men with honeyed words slip into your life, leaving behind promises as thin as smoke, promises they never intend to fulfill. Before you know it, you're left standing in the wreckage of something that wasn’t even real, just a mirage of what could have been. All those "almosts" stack up like bricks, weighing heavy on your heart, and even though you’ve never had a real relationship, it feels like you've been left shattered more times than you can count.

The scars are there, even if no one else can see them. They linger in every moment a guy brushes you off, in the hollow smile you force when you know it's not real. You feel the sting in every glance that sizes you up like you’re a prize to be won rather than a person to know. So you’ve built your walls, layering them high and thick until nothing, no one, can break through. Not even him.

Or them.

Sam and Dean Winchester—they didn’t just walk into your life. No, they crashed into it, two forces of nature that bulldozed right through your carefully constructed defenses, leaving you exposed and vulnerable in a way you swore you’d never be again. At first, you tried to play it cool, act like they were just hunters, comrades in arms. But the months blurred together, and now you can’t even tell how long it’s been. And that scares you because losing track means losing control and losing control means letting them in.

And letting them in? That’s not an option.

Even now, you can feel their eyes on you, the weight of their presence lingering in the air like a storm cloud ready to break. Sam’s by the pool table, his lean, tall frame moving with practiced ease as he lines up shot after shot. There’s a calm to him, but it’s the kind that keeps you on edge, like he could switch in an instant and suddenly be dangerous. Then there’s Dean, perched at the bar with a half-empty beer in hand, his eyes flicking between the room and you, constantly scanning for threats, always watching. 

Always watching you.

They’re protective. It should comfort you, but it drives you insane. Because the truth is, no matter how many monsters they face, no matter how many battles they fight, they can’t protect you from what matters most. They can’t protect you from yourself.

You think back to the last hunt, to the ridiculousness of it all—a damn Cupid, of all things. The little winged freak zeroed in on you from the moment you stepped into that abandoned church, those bright, beady eyes tracking you with unnerving precision. He wasn’t cute, not like the Valentine's Day cards would have you believe. No, this thing was more like a demented cherub, armed with arrows dipped in cosmic mischief, and he had you in his crosshairs. You could feel it in the air—the tug, the weight, as though Cupid himself was hell-bent on forcing you to confront feelings you’d buried so deep even you were beginning to forget they existed. Each arrow he loosed sent your heart racing, as if you could sense the emotional mess he was trying to weave. But you dodged them all, every last one, determined not to let some glorified matchmaker unravel everything you’d worked so hard to lock away.

You're not stupid. You know precisely what the little bastard was aiming for. It’s not like you’ve been blind to the way Sam’s gaze lingers on you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, soft and curious, like he’s trying to piece you together. Or the way Dean’s jaw tightens, a flicker of possessiveness in his green eyes, whenever some random guy at a bar edges too close, his whole demeanor shifting to silent warning. You’ve been dodging these unspoken glances for months now, sidestepping their care, their questions, like someone dancing around a minefield. Because you know that once you stop moving, it’ll all explode in your face.

And you’ve had enough explosions in your life.

But there’s only so much running you can do before the inevitable catches up.

“Hey.”

Dean’s gravelly voice slices through the whirlwind of your thoughts, rough but steady, anchoring you as he slides into the seat beside you. His presence is a weight that presses into the air, solid, almost suffocating in its certainty. The chair creaks beneath him, but all you hear is the pounding of your own heartbeat, thundering in your chest.

“Are you alright?” He’s asking, but it’s more than that. It’s the question beneath the question, the one you’ve been dodging for longer than you can remember.

Your heart skips a beat—a betraying thud that echoes in the hollowness you’ve tried to keep locked down. You’d never admit it, not even to yourself, but he makes it impossible to pretend. You glance at him, careful to keep your face neutral, masking the fluttering in your chest with a look you’ve perfected over years of pretending. It’s almost second nature by now—the practiced nonchalance. But with Dean, it’s always been different.

There’s something in the way his green eyes bore into yours, piercing through the walls you’ve built brick by brick, layer by layer. It’s as though he sees right past your armor, straight into that small, fragile part of you that still aches for something real. Something more. But you can’t let him see that. You won’t. So you shove it down, hard, pushing that flicker of vulnerability back into the shadows as you lean casually into your chair. Your body language distant, closed off.

“Yeah,” you shrug, the lie slipping from your lips as easily as breathing. “Just tired. Long day.”

Dean doesn’t move, doesn’t blink, just watches you with that familiar intensity, and you know—you know—he doesn’t believe a word you’re saying. He’s seen you fight, seen you bleed, seen you crawl out of the wreckage of hunts that should’ve killed you. He’s seen you at your worst, and somehow, he still sticks around. He and Sam both do, and that’s the problem, isn’t it? They’ve gotten too close, wedged themselves into your life in ways that make it impossible for you to keep pretending.

Pretending that you don’t care.

Pretending that the way Dean looks at you doesn’t unravel something deep inside.

From across the room, you feel Sam’s eyes on you. His quiet gaze tracks the shift in the atmosphere as he casually leans his pool cue against the table and makes his way over, long strides slow but purposeful. His expression is calm and unreadable, but you see the concern in the tightness of his jaw and the subtle way his brow furrows as he joins Dean at your side.

“You’ve been quiet,” Sam says softly, folding his arms across his broad chest. There’s no judgment in his tone, just that frustrating gentleness, the kind that makes you feel seen when you’d rather stay hidden. “Is it… about earlier? With Cupid?”

The mention of Cupid sends a sharp twist through your stomach. You swallow, forcing down the surge of emotions that threatens to rise, burying it beneath layers of practiced indifference. You won’t let some stupid angel with a bow and arrow undo everything you’ve worked so hard to keep locked away. You won’t.

“I’m fine,” you snap, the words slipping out too fast, too harsh. The crack in your voice betrays you. “That was nothing. Just another hunt.”

Dean raises an eyebrow, and you can feel the weight of Sam’s stare, too, both of them pinning you with that all-too-familiar look. The one that says they’re not buying your crap, the one that makes your pulse quicken, and your chest tighten. You hate that look because it leaves you nowhere to hide.

“Bullshit.” Dean’s voice is low, steady, cutting through the silence with calm certainty. He takes a long sip from his beer, but his eyes never leave yours, and it feels like he’s peeling back every layer you’ve carefully put up to protect yourself. “You’ve been dodging that thing like it was the plague, and don’t think we didn’t notice.”

You clench your hands into fists in your lap, frustration bubbling up like a rising tide. “Look,” you say, your voice sharp, defensive. “I don’t need some magical arrow telling me how I’m supposed to feel. I’m fine the way I am.”

Sam shifts beside Dean, his arms still crossed, but you see the way the muscle in his jaw tenses, the way his hazel eyes soften as they search yours. “It’s not about what you’re supposed to feel,” he murmurs, his voice quiet but firm. “It’s about what you do feel.”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut, and for a moment, it’s all too much. The weight of their concern, the intensity of their gaze, the truth that they’re trying to force you to admit—it presses down on you until you can’t breathe. You stand up abruptly, the legs of the chair scraping loudly against the floor as you push it back. The sound is harsh, jarring in the quiet of the bar, but you barely notice.

“I don’t feel anything, okay?” you snap, the words spilling out before you can stop them. “Not for you, not for him, not for anyone. And I won’t let some winged freak tell me otherwise.”

The tension in the air thickens, suffocating, hanging between the three of you like a storm cloud ready to break. Dean stands up slowly, his movements deliberate, his face carefully neutral, but there’s something in his eyes—something raw, something that cuts deeper than you want to admit. Hurt, maybe. Disappointment. You can’t think about it. You won’t.

“Y’know,” Dean says quietly, taking a step toward you, his voice low and steady, “you keep saying that, but you don’t believe it. Not really.” He’s close now, too close, the heat of his body radiating off him in waves, and it makes your pulse spike. “You’re just scared.”

Your heart slams against your ribs, your breath catching in your throat. Fear coils tightly around your chest, but not the fear of them. No, it’s the fear of what they’re asking you to do. To let them in. To trust them. To stop running.

And running is all you know how to do.

“I’m not scared,” you whisper, but the words feel weak and empty, even to you.

Dean’s lips twitch into a small, humorless smile, his eyes softening just a fraction as he watches you. “Yeah, you are,” he says, his voice gentler now but no less intense. “And that’s okay. But maybe it’s time you stopped running from it.”

Sam steps closer, his presence steady and calm, grounding you in a way that you don’t want to admit you need. His voice is soft, full of quiet understanding, but there’s an unshakable strength beneath it. “You don’t have to do this alone, y’know,” he says. “We’re here. We always have been.”

The words sink into you, settling deep into the cracks of your carefully guarded heart, and something inside you shifts. Just a little. It’s terrifying, the idea of trusting them, of letting yourself hope, but there’s also something achingly beautiful about it. About the possibility that maybe, for once, you don’t have to be the one to leave first. That maybe, you don’t have to protect yourself from the inevitable heartbreak.

But still, the fear—the bone-deep, soul-crushing fear of opening up, of letting someone in only to be left behind again—is overwhelming and paralyzing.

“I can’t,” you breathe, your voice barely a whisper now, trembling under the weight of the truth you’re too afraid to admit. “I can’t risk it.”

Dean’s hand reaches out slowly, cautiously, like he knows one wrong move could send you running. But he doesn’t stop. His fingers, calloused from years of hunting, gently find yours, and instead of just holding your wrist, he entwines his fingers with yours, locking them together with a quiet but unspoken promise. The touch is soft yet firm, his thumb grazing the back of your hand in slow, soothing strokes, as if he’s trying to reassure you with every heartbeat. The warmth of his skin against yours sends a shiver up your spine, igniting something deep inside you, something you’ve kept buried for so long you almost forgot it was there.

You feel the weight of his presence settle over you like a blanket, heavy with meaning, but there’s nothing suffocating about it. It’s grounding, steady—safe. And yet, that safety terrifies you because it’s the kind you’ve convinced yourself you don’t deserve. But Dean, he isn’t giving you a choice. Not this time.

His other hand comes up slowly, his movements deliberate and gentle, as if he’s afraid you might bolt at any second. His palm cups your cheek, warm and rough, but his touch is tender, almost reverent. His thumb brushes across your cheekbone, wiping away a tear you didn’t realize had fallen. The simple motion cracks something inside you, and for a moment, it feels like the walls you’ve built so carefully over the years are crumbling under the weight of his touch.

"Maybe you’re not the only one taking a risk here," Dean murmurs, his voice thick with emotion, barely above a whisper. His words hang between you, heavy and raw, filled with all the things he’s never said but has always felt. His eyes search yours, and in them, you see it—the longing, the fear, the desperate hope that you’ll stay, that you’ll finally let them in. That you’ll choose them.

You feel your breath catch in your throat as his fingers tighten ever so slightly around yours, anchoring you to the moment. His thumb continues its slow, tender sweep across your cheek, and the tenderness in his gaze is enough to break your heart. This man, this infuriating, stubborn, protective man, who has fought demons and monsters and everything in between, is standing here with his heart wide open, asking you to stop running. Asking you to be with him and his brother in a way that terrifies you more than any hunt ever could.

For the first time, you feel the weight of what’s at stake—not just for you, but for him, for Sam. This isn’t just about you being afraid of getting hurt. It’s about them too, about the risk they’re taking by loving you, by wanting you to be a part of their lives. And it hits you with such force that you almost can’t breathe. They aren’t asking for your walls to come down—they’re asking to stand beside them. To hold you through the fear, through the pain, through whatever comes next.

You stare up at Dean, his hand still cradling your face like you’re something precious, and for the first time, you allow yourself to wonder—really wonder—if maybe, just maybe, you’re not the only one with something to lose.

Because you can feel it now—the risk they’re taking, the way they’re holding their breath, waiting for your answer, waiting for you to finally say yes. And in that moment, you realize that they’ve already decided. They’ve already chosen you.

It’s your turn to choose them.

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[idreamofhazeleyes]

Written in Blood Ch 5

@mrswhozeewhatsis @impala-dreamer @idreamofplaid @squirrelnotsam @winchestergirl-13 @spnfanficpond

Chapter 5 

She stood before me with her arms crossed. There was a look on her face that reminded me of the one that Mom used when I snuck back into the house. The look dropped when Emily took another moment to look me over.  

“What happened?” Concern in her voice. 

“A rabid animal attacked and ...” 

Emily started moving and turned me around to face the door.  

I resisted her attempts and turned back around. “What the hell?” 

“Rabid animal means you need to get tested. Come on, we’re going to the hospital.” 

“I’m fine, seriously, Em. I don’t need the hospital. The animal didn’t bite me.” 

“That injury...” 

“It’s not that bad.” I winced as I moved my left arm in the attempt to lift it up. “See?” I got it up level with the floor before stopping due to the pain. 

“Not that bad, huh? Come on, let me see it.” 

I didn’t fight when Emily stepped up to look at the wounds. A hiss escaped when she pressed on the intact skin.  

“What the fuck happened? And don’t pull an animal attack.” 

“You wouldn’t believe me.” I side stepped around her into our room. I wanted to shed the torn shirt and change into comfortable clothing for the night. “You remember those so called animal attacks? It was a werewolf.” 

Emily huffed. “You’re right. I don’t believe you.” She crossed her arms. “But say I believe you for the moment. The werewolf did that to you? How?” 

I flopped on my bed and struggled through the pain to free my pants. After a couple minutes, the pain won out and I fell back. I didn’t fight Emily when she lifted up a leg to help.  

“I fought it,” I answered. “Don’t ask me why I trusted these guys. They were here hunting the werewolf.” I lifted my head. “The thing that’s tripping me up is that the werewolf was a person. He was in one of my classes today. He looked horrible, like whatever he was going through was driving him into the ground.” 

My legs fell with dead weight once free of the pants. 

“And these two guys let you fight a werewolf on your own? Chivalry is dead.” 

“The werewolf had my scent. I may have...” I pushed myself up to sit. “Stumbled upon him the other night when he was feeding. There was no way the Hunters were going to get close to the monster.” 

Emily gestured for me to lift my arms. “And it fell to you to kill the monster? Convenient.” She lifted the tee shirt up and off before tossing it into the trash. “You know people are gonna talk.” 

A sigh escaped as I eased my lounge pants on. “Yeah. They can talk. No one is going to believe the real thing anyway. You don’t.” I sat there for a few moments as my mind replayed the events.  

The nerves that twisted my stomach as I stared at Jordan. The meager conversation we had before he caught my scent and gave chase. Barely getting the machete and getting backhanded. My life flashing before my eyes as the claws came down.  

“Aeryn. Hey, Aeryn.” Emily’s voice cut into the spiral my mind was going. “You’re not okay. Maybe take the day tomorrow and relax. Tell your professors and work that you saw the monster kill and need the day.” 

“I can’t afford either of those. I’m not a trust fund student here on mommy and daddy’s dime.” 

I had gotten lucky with getting scholarships and worked hard to ensure that I got accepted and stayed on top of everything. Small town girl attempting to do better in her life and all that.  

The nightmares kept me on the edge of falling completely asleep, yet I woke to the sun just creeping into the windows. My shoulder stiffened during the night. Which made changing for the day harder, yet I managed to dress and headed out for the day.  

I dared to walk past the area where I took down the werewolf. For as much as John and Dean helped with taking the creature down, they didn’t do much in helping me get back into normal life. Maybe there was no getting back to normal life. There was no forgetting that the things went bump in the night were real.  

Emily was right that people were going to talk. I hadn’t realized that there had been a couple students that had managed to take pictures of the fight between me and the werewolf. “Hey, Morgan,” a male voice spoke just as the owner sat down. “You hear about this fight last night?” 

I shook my head, playing dumb. “What fight, Ryan?” 

“Someone got brave and faced off against the monster.” He pulled out his cell and showed me pictures someone had sent him. The pictures were grainy and didn’t show me or the werewolf in great detail. Which worked in my favor since I did not want attention for facing the monster.  

I adjusted my text book and notebook in an attempt to play off my nerves. “It’s gotta be staged.” 

“From what I heard, the person in the pictures screamed when the monster swiped at them. One claimed that the person managed to behead the thing. There’s no way that happened.” 

“Well, there’s pictures,” I offered up. “Isn’t that enough proof?” 

“Not well enough. If this person did manage to behead the monster, they had good luck.” 

I wondered how long it would hold out for me. The students settled in for the lesson as the teacher started talking. The thought of looking into news articles that seemed to be out of place passed through my mind.  

After facing off with the werewolf, I should have stayed well away from hunting. I didn’t. School and work came first. There were a few cases that I was able to work in the area. Emily helped with getting a driver’s license. She didn’t fully believe me about what happened that night. She believed me that I fought something dangerous and that I was going to find more like it. Having a license would help with that. It was up to me in getting a car.  

Between food, schooling not covered by my scholarships, and other items, a car was the last thing on my list. Yet I squirreled away what I could. In a couple years I managed to save up enough for a car that was reliable enough for local travel. It got me around well enough in the city and to the few cases I managed to work between classes and work.  

Two years had passed since the night I took down the werewolf. Despite an investigation by the police and university, no one was able to find his body. Guilt tore at me while I kept quiet. His family would never get closure for what happened to him. Yet it was better knowing that he had to lose his life than another being killed for his hunger.  

That guilt did not help with the early morning traffic I was battling. I was pushing late to my commencement ceremony. It was a stupid decision to take on the case so close to the ceremony. I had to drive through the night from the Lansing area to make it. The case took a turn when the spirit refused to move on. I still had grave dirt on me. There was no time to shower.  

I got lucky in finding a parking spot near the stadium and darted inside with my clothes, cap, and gown. Finding a restroom, I washed off the dirt at a sink before speed changing in a stall. I hopped out of the stall and restroom in the attempt to get the second dress shoe. I found the area where I was to walk with my graduating class gathered before the walk just in time. I managed to slip into an spot between a couple people close to my height just before stepping into a tent. 

Each of the students were having their pictures taken before we stepped out. My stomach twisted from anxiety and hope that I did not look as bad as I thought I did from the hunt. With the picture taken, I stepped out onto the football field and the collective cheers of families and friends. I had called my own family about the ceremony back in January. Mother had answered and congratulated me on graduating. She said that she, Father, and Taylor would be at the ceremony.  

The relationship between our parents had been strange for a number of years. Neither of them fully explained what brought them to that point. Sure, they love each other. Yet there was something under the surface. I have vague memories of their relationship changing after Taylor was born. Our parents had shown both of us love despite whatever was between them.  

There was little chance I would be able to pick out three people in a crowd of a hundred thousand people. All there to support their own graduates. It was nice to know my parents and brother were there. Eventually we all got to our seats and I half slumped in mine from exhaustion. My brain was on the edge of unconsciousness throughout the five or six speeches, just aware enough to come around when it came time for receiving our diplomas. My eyes blinked a little as I fully woke up and stood.  

“Aeryn Malone,” one of the academic staff members spoke; their voice echoing slightly in the sound system thanks to the microphone.  

I willed myself to not trip up the stairs as I climbed to the stage. I paused long enough to shake the hand of another staff member while accepting the diploma cover for a picture. Finishing crossing the stage and down the other side and stairs, I returned to the row my chair was in. Another half hour past before the rest of the students sitting behind me. I used that time to snooze, my mind aware enough of my surroundings.  

Eventually the last student sat down and the dean stood and made his last remarks. At some cue, we the student body stood and began our walk from the field. One of the students next to me nudged me awake. Half jumping to my feet, I closed the gap and followed the person in front of me. The walk off the field seemed to take longer, yet we made it inside the stadium. 

It took me longer than expected to make my way through the crowds to where me and my family agreed to meet up after the ceremony. 

“Aeryn!” Tyler’s voice called over the noise of the other families and students.  

I turned at his voice as my lips pulled into a smile. He wore a nice polo styled shirt, denim jeans, and tennis shoes. Our parents were a few steps behind him as they worked through the crowd. My lips pulled into a smile as I stepped into the hug Tyler offered as we closed the gap between us. We pulled apart a minute later before I hugged my parents one by one.  

“We’re so proud of you,” Mom said as she pulled away.  

“Do you know where you want to start looking for jobs?” Dad asked. There was something in his voice that told me that he was expecting to be paid all the money he spent on my four year college career.  

“I just graduated, dad,” I countered. “Allow me time to start searching.” 

“You had weeks before now. What have you been doing?” 

“Gary, enough,” Mom chimed in. “Today’s about celebrating Aeryn’s success.” 

“Success at bleeding me...” 

“Knock it off, Dad,” Tyler cut in. “You didn’t have to be here.” 

Dad turned to Tyler. “You don’t belong...” 

Anger rose up as I stepped between them. The past couple years of hunting and the scars on my shoulder gave me the courage to face down dad. “Stop it. This day is meant to be a celebration. I’m not going to stand here and let you put the both of us down. Now, you can leave or be quiet and go to lunch with us.” 

Dad went silent even as he glared at me. I matched his gaze and dared him to do something. Eventually he broke our silent battle and walked away. Tyler and Mom stood there in silence for a moment or two.  

“Well,” Mom started. “Let’s go have lunch.” She turned and started for an exit. 

“He’s gotten worse,” Tyler said low enough for me to hear as we followed. “I honestly don’t get it. There’s something between our parents that’s changed. More than before.” 

Lunch was tense. Tyler attempted to keep the conversation going despite Dad still being quiet from earlier. Mom chimed in when she had a question or a comment, though generally kept quiet. Lunch was over within an hour and we headed back to my apartment. I had been smart in packing all my things save a change of clothes and a few other things before going on the hunt. 

I had gone back up to double check nothing was being left when Emily walked in. She stopped when she noticed me.  

“So, this is it,” she said.  

“I guess so,” I agreed. “Thank you for helping me the past couple years. I doubt I’d make it to this point if it wasn’t for you.” 

“I hope when I call for help facing off a ghost, you’ll come.” Emily gave a nervous chuckle. 

I smiled. “I will do my best.” I moved toward her as I raised my arms in the attempt of a hug.  

She stepped in and returned the hug. Something told me that my life has changed again.

<<Chapter Four>> <<Chapter Six>>

[supernatural-sophia]

chapter one! Hope you all like this fic! 

[thesassywallflower]

Of Glitter and Paper

Title: Of Glitter and Paper

Word Count: 1655

Summary: The holidays are a ridiculously busy time so you have to take the time out for a little loving wherever and whenever you can.

Rating: Mature

Tags: Dean Winchester, Female!Reader, Dean x Female!Reader, Domestic!Dean, Dean Does NOT Die In That Stupid Barn, Basically porn with dash of plot, with teeniest, tiniest bit of angst, fluff

Characters: Dean Winchester, Female!Reader, Claire Novak

A/N: Merry Christmas, @thoughtslikeaminefield! ‘Tis I, your Secret Santa! Here is your fic. I so hope you enjoy it. You asked for: “There was no rebar, dean is sober, dean is married with children”. Now I know that I know I kind of ignored the whole no rebar part, but I hope that my slight indiscretion okay. Fingers crossed!

This was written for the @spnfanficpond Secret Santa Exchange. Also this fic is completely unbeta-ed so any grammatical errors, wanton comma abuse and missed words are mine and mine alone. Hope you enjoy!

“Dean!” you gasped. “We have to be quiet!”

“I am being quiet,” he rumbled against your inner thigh, his deep voice sending the faintest of vibrations straight to your clit. “But sweetheart, the real question is, can you?”

You shot him a glare, taking in your undone shirt and bra, and nipples still glistening from his ministrations. Damn it. Your man knew you too well. Until you’d met one Dean Winchester, you’d always been rather quiet during lovemaking, but with Dean? Uff dah, you couldn’t seem to shut up! There was just something about him- “OH!” And just like that you were already disobeying your own order. 

Dean’s calloused thumbs gently separated your slick folds, and his tongue (oh that clever, clever tongue) delicately lapped your swollen bud. “Oh lord…” you moaned as you widened your thighs, reaching behind you to grasp the edge of the desk you were sitting on in a feeble attempt to brace yourself. Paper crinkled under your butt and a pair of scissors clattered to the floor. 

Dean gave a huff of laughter, his warm breath tickling your aching core and emerald eyes twinkling up at you, “Already breaking your own rule, huh?”

“You just wait until it’s your turn, pal,” you ground out. “I’m going to make you yell so loud the neighbors will be calling the- oh sweet mercy!” Dean’s soft licks had morphed into him wrapping his lips around your clit and suckling as he firmly stroked the bundle of nerves with his tongue.

Fireworks of sensation shot through your body and then back down to your core. Heat pooled and you felt yourself getting wetter and wetter. Oh gods, were you going to come already? Dean’s big hands wrapped around your thighs and spread you even wider, giving him better access. His tongue began to flicker from your clit to your tight channel where he began to thrust in an imitation of his cock. Then he turned his attention back to your clit where he would once again suckle. Involuntarily one of your hands shot out and grasped the back of his head as you thrust your hips forward frantically in an attempt to get even closer to that sinful mouth. Dean growled and gripped your hips in response. All it took was that growl to make your climax  wash over you like a spring thunderstorm.

Panting you leaned back against the desk, willing your heart rate to calm down at least a few beats per minute. After a few seconds you sat back up, “Okay sir, your turn,” you grinned seductively, reaching for his waistband.

Dean backed away just out of reach causing your brow to furrow in confusion. He gave you a sheepish grin, “Sorry darlin’, as much as I want that gorgeous mouth of yours on my dick, there’s no way I can last.”

“You’re sure- oh you really are sure, aren’t you?” you giggled as he hurriedly worked to unbutton his jeans. The giggle swiftly turned to a moan as he unzipped his pants, and his straining cock sprang free. Your channel tightened and moisture pooled at just the sight of his straining length.

“You okay with this?” he asked between gritted teeth as he palmed himself and stepped forward.

You nodded vehemently and greedily reached out to pull his still denim covered hips between your legs. You took his cock and guided it to your entrance. Dean gripped your hips and in one smooth thrust plunged his entire length into you. You both gasped, and you felt your eyes roll back into your head as he began to stroke into you. 

“Dean…Dean…Dean…good, you feel so good,” you babbled as his thrusts pitched upward and rubbed against your clit. “Oh gods, so good.”

“Shhhh sweet girl, shhhh,” he took one of his hands off your hip and carefully covered your mouth, all the while keeping up those maddening thrusts.

In retaliation you squeezed your inner muscles around his cock and his firm ass with your hands at the same time. You then traced each of his fingers with your tongue before giving his ring finger a gentle nip.

With a barely contained groan, he tore his hand off your mouth and crashed his lips into yours. Your tongues tangled in a frantic dance and those measured strokes turned uneven and urgent.

You felt release once again barreling down at you. Everything centered on the multitude of sensations happening at once. His hard body moving against your much softer one, the slick grip of your core on his large cock, his lush mouth moving against yours, and soft gasp he made into your mouth as you raked your nails up his back and into his hair. Then it all fractured in a burst of starlight and you were muffling your cries of release into his neck as Dean roared your name as his own climax hit him. 

He rested his forehead against yours as your chests heaved against each other in an attempt to try to get some air back into your lungs. “Who’s breaking the rules now?” you laughed shakily as you pressed a kiss to a spot right above his thundering heart. The same spot where there was a brutal almost perfectly round quarter sized scar. A scar that daily reminded you of how close you came to losing him to a rusty piece of iron in an abandoned barn. 

“Worth it,” he chuckled as he dropped a lingering kiss onto your lips before he pulled away and fixed his pants with still trembling hands. You couldn’t help noting those hands with a smug glance. You sorted your shirt and bra and scooted off the desk. After a bit of a shuffling around under scraps of paper, you found your panties under a pile of bags and tape and slipped them on and tugged your skirt back into place.

“Where the hell did all that glitter come from?” he nodded to the red and silver specks creasing your hands.

“Honey, look around us. Besides you know what they say about glitter right? It’s the herpes of the craft world. It finds its way into everything.”

He chuckled, “Alright, alright. Well I suppose it’s time to check on those ghouls out there and see how much damage they’ve done.”

“I can only imagine,” you winced before playfully slapping his ass. “Okay my fearless hunter, time to face the music.”

***

You walked into the living room only to find three sets of curious eyes boring holes straight into the both of you.

“Mommy? What took you guys sooooooo long? We’ve been waiting to start the movie FOREVER!!” Rowena, your ever dramatic six year old asked. Sometimes she took after her namesake a little too much. “Bobby ate almost all the sugar cookies already!”

“Yeah, Mommy and Daddy, what took so long? We thought you were only going to wrap a few presents.” Claire smirked at them from the couch and popped a piece of peppermint bark into her mouth. She’d originally stopped by to say hi and drop off some presents for the kids as she drove back to Sioux Falls for the holidays, but a Plains blizzard had rolled in right as she’d arrived. It looked like they’d have an extra guest for Christmas dinner tomorrow, which you absolutely loved. Your door was always open to all your friends and family.

“Well…” You cleared your throat awkwardly. “Dad’s not very good at wrapping presents so I ended up having to do all of them. That’s why it took so long.”

“But why were you both yelling?” Bobby, their four year old piped up, frosting and cookie crumbs coating his lips and smeared across one chubby cheek.

“Yeah, you were both yelling so loud! Bobby and I wanted to check on you, but Claire said that we couldn’t.” 

“I uh- well I-ummm-” you stammered. Christmas Eve was so NOT the time to have this particular conversation. Especially not with Claire “Could Barely Contain Her Gleeful Laughter” Novak snorting at them from her corner. You looked back helplessly at Dean. “Well you see…”

Dean knelt down next to the nest of pillow and blankets your two kiddos had built for themselves in preparation for your annual Christmas Eve movie night and looked into the two sets of curious green eyes so like his. “Guys, we were going to keep this a secret, but since you’ve both been so good, I’ll let you in on it. We were talking to Santa on the phone.” 

Bobby and Ro gasped, “You were???”

“Yep, we were. But then we started arguing about who’s turn it was to tell Santa about how awesome you two are. That’s why you heard yelling.”

“Ooooohh, I bet Santa didn’t like that,” Ro gasped.

“He sure didn’t! In fact, he almost took away our presents, but then we told him that we were sorry and that we’d start taking turns talking to him. After that Santa said that we were all good. So that’s why you heard yelling, okay?”

“Okay!” They both chimed and turned their attention back to the Peanuts gang dancing across the TV screen. Whew, by some kind of miracle you’d, well Dean, managed to side step a very awkward conversation.

Dean shot you a relieved grin and walked towards the kitchen in (knowing him) pursuit of more cookies and hopefully a much needed cup of coffee for you. You felt your heart swell with love and gratitude for this amazing man that the universe had seen fit to give you. “He is truly the only Christmas gift I will ever need,” you thought as you snuggled next to Bobby on the pile of pillows.

“Daddy?” Ro piped up. You froze. You should’ve known that Ro wouldn’t let you both get off that easy. “Why do you have glitter all over your bottom?”

“Well shit,” you groaned to yourself with a laugh as you buried your burning face into a pillow. “There goes that Christmas miracle.”

[xofemeraldstars]

What’s the Reddit fic?

anon i cannot believe i actually found thee reddit fic lol

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

*sighing* *sobbing* *head in hands* Time to finally write that fanfic

[swordsofsaturn]

aside from like genuinely concerning things, the thing that makes me 🤨 the most in destiel fanfic is when they put cas in a female vessel. that's it that's the story. it feels so supremely homophobic like damn not even the cw themselves took the homophobia that far

[kjosi]

Chapter 25 update

Title:  Escape to Ascent  (67.3k  words,  WIP)   Fandom: Supernatural
 Category: Gen, M/M Characters: Castiel, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Apocalypseverse Michael, Jack Kline, Mary Winchester, Apocalypse World Hunters, Benny Lafitte (flashbacks), Jimmy Novak (flashbacks); Garth Fitzgerald IV; Apocalypseverse Bobby Singer

Fic Summary:   Season 14 re-write, canon-compliant for the first half, then divergent onward and into 15. Series finale fix-it fic. TFW-centric, destiel. Will contain flip/reversal of situations, and canon divergent plot concepts. In this house we peel back the ghostfacer effect. More characters to be tagged as they appear.

Chapter 25: High Altitude  (2.9k):

Sam keeps running, and they both skid to a halt once they reach the end of a brick wall. “Dammit.” He flicks his eyes at his brother, who doesn't seem to be concerned at all. “Now what, genius?”

Dean blinks as the clouds above generously offer their rain once again, drizzling down with a light pitter-patter. The sight begins to clear. Maybe the rain is doing him a favor, because with each blink, Dean feels like he can see the hound better by the second. It's a terrifying sight to behold – the dreadful, vague outline of an ethereal, ancient creature. But Dean doesn't feel so afraid.

[purgaytorysupremacy]

if anyone wants to know how this might play out with Demon!Dean, @rupertgayes has a little something to say on the subject..........

forgotten fruit - Rated E - 6.3K words

Emmanuel is rescued - and named - by Daphne Allen when she finds him wandering alone in the woods. Years later they share a comfortable existence, her leading a small revival and him in the center of it as a faith healer. He doesn’t know if he’s happy, but it’s all he has.

And then a stranger comes to town.

x

[justmytype95]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Not Rated Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: Arthur Ketch/Original Female Character(s), Arthur Ketch/Mary Winchester, Dean Winchester/Original Female Character(s) Characters: Dean Winchester, Arthur Ketch, Sam Winchester, Mary Winchester Additional Tags: Love Triangle, Spies & Secret Agents, Slow Burn Summary:

Morgan moved cities for a fresh start- and because she needed the bump in pay to help her make payments on her mounting credit card debt. after surviving a vampire attack which turns out to be more than it seems, morgan is pulled to the world of supernatural, monster hunting, and the men of letters. But the men of letters don't like loose ends, and offer Morgan a job with them to keep her closer. At first the bump in pay seems like exactly what she needs to wipe her slate clean, but slowly Intrigue and tension form and she finds herself torn between the affections of two men.

On the one hand, Dean is fun loving and compassionate, and the two share a mutual attraction, but Morgan doubts he's ready for a relationship, with all the commitment and baggage that goes along with it.

Arthur is harder to win over. Morgan isn't sure if his interest in her is superficial, but they form a bond working alongside each other that makes her wonder where the relationship could go.

[idreamofhazeleyes]

Written in Blood Ch 7

@mrswhozeewhatsis @impala-dreamer @idreamofplaid @squirrelnotsam @winchestergirl-13 @spnfanficpond

Chapter 7 

“I’m home,” I called out as I stepped into the house.  

“Welcome home,” Mom replied, her voice carried from somewhere in the house. “I’m in the kitchen.” 

I toed off my shoes and headed into the house. The smell of something sweet drifted over the air. “Smells good, Mom.” A pie sat on the stove. 

“Leave it. It’s for after dinner. You know where the snacks are.” 

A sigh escaped before I moved to the table and sat.  

“How were classes today?” Mom asked as she turned from the counter.  

“Exhausting. Three projects for two different classes. And I have work tonight.” 

“Can you swap shifts or ask for an extension for your projects?” 

“We’re already short staffed and not unless I have too.”  

The sound of the front door opening then closing drifted into the kitchen. “I’m home,” Dad’s voice called out. He walked into the kitchen and over to Mom, planting a kiss on her cheek.  

My eyes narrowed at the action. In all the times I’ve seen them together, Dad never shown any sort of intimate action like that to Mom. It was odd.  

“Aeryn?” Dad’s voice crept into my thoughts. “Are you alright, sweetheart?” 

My mind snapped back, and a smile pulled at my lips. “Yeah. I must have spaced for a moment.” I pushed myself to my feet. “I should go wash up before work tonight.” 

“Thought you were off today,” Dad said.  

I stopped and turned to the white board calendar on the wall. It showed several different events, including my work schedule. There was no shift for me that night.  

Something was not right. There hadn’t been much love between my parents and peace was just out of reach. It had been like that for years for reasons unknown to me. To see the love all of a sudden threw me for a loop. It didn’t sit right with me.  

I pushed it out of my mind while getting ready for the evening’s dinner. Dressed in a nice skirt and top with matching shoes, light makeup, and bracelet, an odd sense of feeling uncomfortable settled over me. The drive to the restaurant was filled with Dad and Tyler talking about working on their project car  

That feeling stuck with me the next few days. I stole some time between work and school to dive into a vague memory. The memory itself seemed almost not real; more like the last little snippet of a dream before fully waking. There was something about someone having blue tattoos on their face.  

My research took me into the folklore section of the library with books spread out on the table. Stories of countless mythological creatures from multiple cultures blended together after hours of reading. I leaned back in the chair as I rubbed my sore eyes.  

“Aeryn,” a familiar voice called.  

My body straightened while panic flooded my brain. I looked around in search of the person that called me. Of the few people I saw, none of them looked in my direction. I went back to the books, pulling one containing Arabic folklore toward me. Flipping through pages, something caught my attention. On a page was a rendition of a person with blue tattoos on their skin.  

The Djinn are a supernatural race within Arabic culture, the next page read. They usually dwell in caves and have the power to bring powerful hallucinations in the minds of their targets. They feed on human blood while the human is in a coma like trance caused by a poison. It’s believed they can grant a person’s wish. That wish is the hallucinations that the human lives in caused by the poison. There is one way to possibly kill a Djinn; a silver blade dipped in lamb’s blood. 

Silver blade dipped in lamb’s blood. There had to be a way to get both. Pawn stores or some sort of store that sold weapons. Maybe stores that dealt with hunting and sporting items. The lamb’s blood would be more difficult. Closing all the books before putting them on the carts to be reshelved. Thoughts of a plan started to float through my mind to gain the silver blade.  

<<Chapter Six>> <<Chapter Eight>>

[supernatural-sophia]

Chapters: 7/7 Fandom: Supernatural (TV 2005) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester, John Winchester/Mary Winchester, Castiel & Jack Kline & Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Castiel, Jack Kline, Eileen Leahy, Mary Winchester, God | Chuck Shurley Additional Tags: Post-Season 15, Fix It, Post canon fix-it, PTSD, Resurrected John Winchester, Castiel saved from the Empty, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair (Supernatural), Bad Parent John Winchester, Creature Castiel, Angel Castiel, Protective Dean Winchester, Caring Dean Winchester, Original Character - Freeform, Mary is still alive, Castiel is Jack Kline's Parent, Jack Kline is God But Also Still a Child, Drunk Dean Winchester Summary:

After Castiel is saved from the empty, he is not himself and more like a scared, wild animal. Chuck, getting bored with the ending HE chose, decides to resurrect a dead family member to create chaos in the Winchester family.

The title and chapter titles are all either Names of songs or lyrics of songs.

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2xjCmgucl4rzrsVOX7RLpE?si=9b1cead2f53c4df7 (Playlist that has the songs on them)

[catsconflictscopicsandchamomile]

so were we all

like

the exact same person

....wait this is literally exactly what the spn hurt-comfort fics I write now are like

its the sAME THING

FUCK

[canonsensical]

It's pride month of obviously I'm considering rereading The Dean Winchester Beat Sheet, as is tradition.