#also its ooc of me to pair the reader with dean

[saltcxrcle]

girls i've never tried ── . ✶ jo harvelle

summary: the two of you were just best friends, right? but then why did jo want to kiss you every time she saw you?

pairings: bi! jo harvelle x bi! reader, jo harvelle x fem!reader, mentioned prev dean x reader, slight implied deanjoノ wc: 4.4k warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, no use of 'y/n', best friends to lovers, jealousy, making out, smut, lots of praise, oral (both receiving), fingering, slightly dom!reader and sub!jo, pet names (baby, honey, pretty girl, good girl, baby girl)<- mostly used by reader, title is a lyric from naked in manhattan by chappell roan which the fic is loosely based on, kinda edited; all mistakes my own a/n: its a crime that there isn't more gay fics for jo so here i am doing my due diligence and providing you guys some jo smut for all of my bi girlies (gn) and lesbians that love jo lol also idk how not yap in my fics lmao but enjoy! jo harvelle masterlist

JO WANTED TO KNOW WHAT IT WAS LIKE BEING WITH A GIRL. 

More specifically, she wanted to know what it would be like to be with her best friend, you. It was a thought that always crossed her mind, even when she was younger, and the two of you were messing around in her room, giggling at something you guys were reading in a magazine. 

You were her best friend ever since her father died, and your parents had shown up at the Roadhouse to offer their condolences to Ellen when they heard the news. You were a bit older than her but shot her a kind smile that made her stomach flip when you told her that you liked her Sleeping Beauty shirt. 

You practically grew up with Jo and Ellen, and your parents would leave you with her as they went on hunts, so the two of you stuck by each other like glue. Ellen called the pair of you “two peas in a pod.” 

Jo loved how quick-witted you were and how willing you were to teach her about hunting (even if her mom hated that your parents started taking you on hunts when you were just sixteen). But she saw less of you as you went on hunts with your parents before you started to go on your hunts after they had retired. 

You would stop by the Roadhouse occasionally when you could or when you were passing by, never failing to fill Jo in on the hunts you went on or which monsters you had killed in the time that you hadn’t seen her or Ellen. 

She remembers the time right before you stopped coming by as often, telling her how you lost your virginity to this guy named Dean, who had these bright green eyes and plush lips that felt so soft against yours. You mentioned that he was another hunter, and Jo had to bury the little green monster that she felt clawing at her chest as you detailed the experience. 

Jo didn’t know why she was jealous that guy got to be your first, but she chalked it up to not having been able to lose her virginity yet since everyone else around her was, including her best friend. 

But her jealousy almost always took center stage when you came around the Roadhouse and slept over, telling her about the men and women that you would hook up with on the road. Jo would have a fake smile plastered on her face because, apparently, she was a masochist when it came to you and asked you if you had met someone while on a hunt. 

It was only when she saw you flirting with a girl at the bar when you were helping Ellen and Jo out for the night—pouring and serving drinks to the patrons in the Roadhouse. 

God, I wish I was her. Jo thought as she saw you send the girl you were flirting with a sultry smile before the realization hit her like a bolt of lighting, 

Jo knew that she liked men. She just didn’t realize that she also liked women until she saw you wrap your arm around the girl’s waist, sending Jo a wink before the two of you sauntered out of the place once it was closing time. 

Now, it had been a couple of months since she had seen you, and the Winchesters were like a tornado, storming into the Roadhouse and effectively taking you off of her mind. Jo thought she was getting somewhere with Dean even though something about him seemed familiar to her, but she ignored it as she talked to him and refilled his whiskey. 

The door opened to the Roadhouse, and Jo didn’t look up from wiping down the bar, but Dean did, a smile appearing on his face as he saw you walk through the entrance. 

“Well, I’ll be damned, Winchester, didn’t think you knew this place.” You smirked at the sight of the Winchester brothers as you walked over to the bar. 

Jo’s eyes snapped up from what she was doing, her gaze trained on you as you gave Sam a quick side hug as a greeting. 

Dean grabbed your waist and tucked you into his side.  “It’s a small world for us hunters isn’t it?.” Dean joked as he squeezed your arm. “The only reason we come back is because the service is great here.” Dean winked at Jo. 

Jo’s eyes were lasered in on Dean’s arm around you. The familiarity of the gesture wasn’t lost on her. 

You chuckled at Dean’s words.“ You aren’t wrong there Dean.” 

You turned to face your best friend. “Hi Joey!” You greeted Jo with a bright smile. 

“You know the Winchesters?” Jo asked instead of saying hi back to you. 

You nodded, noting the bluntness of her tone, but you would talk to her later. “Yep, ran into Dean a long time ago, but ran into these two on that hunt with the revenant I told you about a while back.” 

Something clicked in Jo’s brain. This was the Dean that had taken your virginity all those years ago. The same Dean she thought she was interested in. Fuck. Of course, out of all people, it had to be him. God must hate me. She thought as she swallowed hard. 

“Ah, I remember now.” She sent you a tight smile. “Did you want your usual?” 

You looked down at your watch. “Not all that into day drinking, I’ll take a root beer though.” 

Jo nodded and went to the mini fridge below the bar to grab the root beer that you only drank when you weren’t feeling up to alcohol. She ignored the rush of relief that went through her when you finally pulled away from Dean’s side as you sat on the barstool in between Sam and Dean. Jo also ignored how her heart rate picked up when your fingers brushed against hers as she handed you your drink. 

The four of you fell into a conversation, but Jo barely participated. Witnessing the rapport between you and the Winchesters made her skin crawl as comfortable exchanges of touches between you and Dean made her burn with jealousy. Jealous of who? Jo could barely tell anymore. 

Sam noticed how quiet Jo was and how she was staring intently at you and Dean. He didn’t know what her problem was today. Still, regardless of her sudden silence, he tried to involve her in the conversation as best he could. Still, she gave short answers, which made you raise an eyebrow at her. 

But before you could question her attitude, customers started to file in, and the evening rush began for the Roadhouse. You decided to help out, hopping behind the bar and making drinks for the boys and other patrons. You had tried to talk to Jo in between serving and making drinks, but she managed to avoid you by going around, taking orders, and going to the kitchen. 

You huffed but let it go, figuring that something else earlier in the day had set her off. Sam and Dean left right before closing, promising you that they would text you if they needed help on their next hunt. Soon after they left, you made the last call before the Roadhouse closed. 

Once everything was cleaned up, Jo was nowhere to be seen, and you sighed. That girl was moody, and you were going to find out why. 

You quickly made your way to Jo’s room and found her sitting at her vanity, already dressed for bed and beginning to pull her hair up. 

“So, are you going to tell me what crawled up your ass and died?” You asked Jo as you leaned against her door frame. 

You heard her scoff. “It’s nothing.” 

“It doesn’t sound like “nothing”.” You kicked off of her door frame, toeing your boots off before walking further into her room and sitting on her bed. “Come on Jo, talk to me! You barely spoke to me today.” 

Jo said your name tiredly. “It’s just been a long day.” 

“Then it’s the perfect time to talk about it.” 

“I’d rather not right now.” Jo’s words came out clipped as she stood up from her vanity, aiming to go to the other side of her room to pull out socks from her dresser. 

But before she could, you grabbed her wrist, stopping her in her tracks. You stood up from the bed and tried to meet her eyes. 

“Jo, please, talk to me.” You pleaded softly. You could tell something was bothering her, and you just wanted to know what it was. “Is it because I didn’t check for a while?”

She shook her head, looking away from you. Jo debated on what to tell you. “Why didn’t you tell me that Dean Winchester was the guy that took your virginity?” 

“What?” Your eyebrows furrowed. “I didn’t know you guys knew each other until today. Besides, why does that matter? That happened so long ago.” 

Jo couldn’t look at you, biting her bottom lip. She didn’t want to admit to anything she wasn’t ready to face head-on. She ripped her wrist from your grip. 

“I told you it’s nothing. Can you just leave it?” Jo went back on her path towards her dresser, but you blocked her from even taking a step. 

“No, because I’m trying to talk to my best friend but she won’t even give me the time of day right now.” 

“And that’s my problem!” Jo’s outburst shocked you, your stomach dropping to your ass. 

A tense silence settled between you and her. 

“What do you mean?” You whispered. 

Jo sighed. “You’ve always been my best friend. But seeing you with Dean today, set me off.” 

“I-i do you like Dean? Is that why you’ve been acting short with me?” You swallowed thickly. 

You’ve always liked Jo ever since you realized that you like both girls and boys but kept that hidden from her—never once getting the vibe that she swung both ways. You liked Dean, but he was like your best friend, and you both had agreed that the first time was fun, but that time would be the only time the two of you would hook up. 

“No. I don’t think I do. All I know is that I was jealous that Dean got to have you and I-” Jo shut her mouth before she admitted her feelings for you. But the damage was already done. 

“And you what?” Your heart started to pound in your chest. “You cannot leave me hanging here Jo.” 

Jo bit her bottom lip, your gaze straying to her lips before you met her brown eyes once more. 

“I wished that I could have you in the same way Dean did.” Jo’s words were quiet, but they sounded deafening to your ears. 

You couldn’t help the smile that grew on your lips. “You could, you know?” 

“What?” Jo’s head was spinning at your words but also at the sight of the sly smile on your face. Her breath hitched as you stepped closer to her, your warm hands landing on her waist. 

“I’ve liked you for a long time Jo. If you wanted to sleep with me, you could have just asked, you know?” 

Jo’s heart felt like it could escape from out of her chest cavity. “I like you too. I wasn’t sure if it was in a friendly way or not.” 

You smiled at her as you leaned closer to Jo. “Well I’m glad it isn’t. Can I kiss you pretty girl?” Your breath was fanning over her lips, rubbing your nose against her as you saw her pretty brown eyes flutter. 

“Yes.” Her voice was breathy and filled with want. 

You wasted no time pressing your lips against Jo’s. Her lips were so soft and pliant as they moved against yours. You couldn’t help but push your lips against hers harder, pouring all of the years of secret yearning into it. 

Jo moaned against your lips, wrapping her arms around your neck as you pushed her backward until her knees hit the edge of her bed. Jo fell backward, breaking the kiss the two of you were sharing. She shuddered at the sight of your dark eyes, filled with desire, as you drank in the sight of her slightly swollen lips. 

Jo was dressed in some pajama shorts with a tight, long-sleeve shirt, and you could tell that she wasn’t wearing a bra, her nipples showing through the thin fabric. You internally groaned at the sight, but you crawled on top of the bed, making her crawl up it until her head hit her pillows. 

You hovered over her, cupping Jo’s face with one of your hands as you took in how the warm lighting from her lamp highlighted her features. “You’re so pretty.” You breathed out. 

Jo blushed at your praise, making you grin at the sight of her reddening cheeks. You leaned down and kissed her again—wanting to feel her soft lips against yours once more. Her kisses were addictive, and you were so sure that the taste of her would have you hooked on her indefinitely. 

You took the lead, swiping your tongue at the seam of Jo’s lips and groaning softly when you felt her tongue shyly dance with yours. Shit, she was so sweet, and you were going to have fun with her. 

Your free hand started to roam, cupping her breast through her shirt, squeezing it slightly. She let out the cutest squeak against your mouth, making you chuckle. 

“Is this okay?” You asked when you pulled away from her now swollen lips. 

“Yeah.” Jo answered with a small pant to her words. 

You ducked your head down, planting small kisses on her jaw before trailing down and nipping at the soft skin of her neck. Jo’s hands grabbed your biceps, squeezing as she let out the softest moan like she was afraid to be loud. The sound sent a wave of arousal through you and made you nip harder at her neck. 

“Don’t be afraid to be loud. Wanna hear you, honey.” You murmured into her skin, and you made your way to her collarbone, moving your hand from her breast and pulling the collar of her already low-cut shirt to suck at her chest. 

Jo continued to let out breathy moans, but they were louder this time around, and it was like music to your ears. The hand that was on her cheek moved to play with the hem of her shorts, but she grabbed your wrist. 

You looked at Jo, pulling away from her chest to look at her, her eyes wide and filled with nerves. 

“I-I’ve never been with a girl before.” 

Something inside of you purred at her words. This was a little archaic, but you were glad that you were going to be the first girl that she’d have sex with. 

“S’fine. Just relax, I’ll take care of you pretty girl.” You promised. 

Jo swallowed thickly before nodding. You kissed her softly, your hands tugging at the hem of her shirt. She got the memo and raised her arms up as you took off her shirt, exposing her bare chest to you. 

She resisted the urge to hide from your reverent stare. “God, you’re gorgeous Jo. So, so pretty.” You couldn’t help but praise her—pressing soft kisses down her chest and stomach before your lips hit the hem of her shorts. 

“Can I take these off?” Your fingers were hooked on the waistband of her shorts. 

She nodded again. But you shook your head. 

“I need words baby.” 

“Yes, you can take them off.” Jo’s words were rushed, clearly eager—any previous shyness dissipated as arousal flooded her veins. 

“Good girl.” You said before pulling her shorts, along with her underwear, down her legs, exposing her cunt to the cool air of the room. 

“Fuck.” You cursed at the sight of Jo’s bare center. There was a small patch of dark blonde hair at her pubic bone, and it was the most amazing sight you’ve ever seen. 

You settled between her open legs, your gaze on Jo’s cunt. Jo saw the hunger in your eyes, and she felt like you could devour her whole. She shivered in anticipation as your hands gripped her thighs. 

“Always knew you were going to have a pretty pussy. Bet it looks as good as it tastes.” You pressed teasing kisses to Jo’s inner thighs. She almost squirmed at the feeling—her hands grabbing at her sheets, wanting to feel your mouth on her. 

You leaned in closer to her pussy—it was practically glistening in the low light as you blew cool air on it, making Jo’s cunt clench around nothing. You laughed lightly at the small squeak that Jo made. Her hips canted forward—Jo wanted, no, needed to feel your mouth devouring her. 

“Did you need something baby?” You looked up from her wet slit to meet the pleading brown gaze of Jo. God, you hadn’t done anything, and she already looked fucked out. 

Jo whined. “Please.” She whispered. 

“Please what?” You knew you were being a bit mean, teasing her like this but it was too hard not to. “I need to hear you say it baby.” 

“Please put your mouth on me.” 

You grinned against her inner thigh, planting another kiss there. “My mouth is on you baby. You gotta be more specific.” 

Jo almost growled in frustration, her hand moving from the bed to grab the back of your head and shove you closer to her leaking cunt. “Need your mouth on my pussy.” 

“Wasn’t that easy?” You said before licking a wide strip from her slit to her clit. 

Jo let out a pleasured sigh from the feeling of your tongue finally on her aching cunt. You softly licked at her, swirling your tongue around her sensitive clit before wrapping your lips around it, suckling at the bundle of nerves softly. 

Moans left her pretty mouth, her noises spurring you on to continue your mission to get her to come around your mouth. You ate her out messily, uncaring of her slick getting all over your chin and mouth. She tasted so good. A mix of tang and musk flooded your senses as you licked at her slit, your nose buried in the soft hair at the top of her mound. 

Your dominant hand left her thigh as you pulled away from her. A little whine left her mouth in the midst of her moans. Your hand made its way to run through her wet fold, slicking up your fingers. 

“That feels good honey?” You nipped at her thigh, rubbing at her clit with your slicked-covered fingertips.  

“Uh huh.” Jo nodded furiously, her hair mussing up from the action. 

You slapped at her clit lightly, making her hip twitch at the sensation. “Words.” You reminded Jo before prodding at her entrance with your middle finger. 

“Yes! Feels so good, please.” Jo didn’t know what she was pleading for. All she knew was that she wanted to come. 

You didn’t respond, letting your finger slip into her warm pussy and feeling her gummy walls contract around it. Your mouth sealed around her clit again as your finger slowly moved in her. It didn’t take long for Jo’s moans to fill the room again. You could feel your underwear sticking to your absolutely drenched cunt, but you kept your focus on Jo, wanting to wring any and all bit of pleasure out of her. 

Your middle finger was soon joined by your ring finger. “S’tight baby. Can barely move my fingers with how hard you’re clenching around them.” 

Your words filled Jo’s lower belly with heat as her hips moved in tandem with your fingers, meeting your slow thrusts. 

Jo could feel the familiar burn building through her body when she thought of this very moment with her own fingers buried in her pussy alone in her room. 

“You’re close aren’t you? Can feel you clench around my fingers, you gonna come for me?” Your fingers found the spongy spot that she could never find herself and made a come hither motion, brushing against the spot each time your fingers moved in and out of her. 

Jo’s moans became higher and more frequent, and she was so close to cumming. But she was still missing something, and you could tell. You sealed your lips against her swollen clit and sucked hard. Jo let out a moan that almost sounded like a wail as she clenched around your fingers, gushing all over them and your face as heat filled her body and stars danced behind her eyes. 

You worked her through her orgasm, removing your fingers when her walls stopped clenching around them, and your tongue gently moved through her sensitive folds. You pressed one last kiss to her clit before trailing your lips up her soft skin, hovering over her and petting at her hair. 

“There she is.” You said before dipping down and kissing her tenderly. Jo thought it would be weird to taste herself on her lips, but if anything, it spurred her on. She pressed her lips hard against yours as her hands pawed at your shirt, wanting it off. You laughed at her eagerness and broke the kiss to help her take it off. 

Soon enough, you found yourself naked and in Jo’s position—on your back as she was hovering over you and squeezing at your breasts as she kissed you. You moaned in her mouth as she pinched at your nipples before she tore her mouth away from you and moved down your neck and chest. 

Jo made her way down your body, the lust-fueled confidence slowly ebbing away when she was in between your legs and staring at your bare center. There was a hunger in her brown gaze, but it was overshadowed by nerves and hesitancy. 

“Hey.” You called at her softly, sitting up and cupping her face. “Do whatever feels right.” 

“But what if-” 

“You’ll do fine, baby.” You cut her off. “I’ll guide you if you need it okay?” Your thumb swiped at her cheek before kissing her softly as reassurance. 

Jo melted into the kiss before you broke it. You sent her a tender smile before laying back and moving your hands to her hair, pushing the blonde strands out of her face. 

Jo took a deep breath before settling in between your legs. She decided to mirror what you did to her, pressing kisses to your inner thighs before reaching your clit and kissing it. A quiet moan left your lips, spurring Jo on. 

She pressed a more demanding kiss to your clit before her tongue darted out and licked at it. Another moan left your lips, and Jo decided to go for it, using her tongue to swipe through your slit and taste you fully. 

“Ah, doing so well Jo.” You praised as she sucked at your clit, her doe-like eyes looking up at you sent another bolt of pleasure straight to your pussy. 

You could tell that she was inexperienced with her tongue, but she made up for it in eagerness. Your hands were wound in her hair, nails scratching at her scalp—making her moan against your cunt. The vibrations felt delicious against your cunt, and you couldn’t help but grind against her face. 

“Jo baby, use your fingers like I did.” You ordered breathlessly. 

Jo complied, bringing her slender fingers to your spit–slicked entrance and slipped one of them in. 

“Another one baby, please.” You were wet enough that you didn’t need to be prepped. Jo slipped another one in you, and you sighed at the feeling of being filled by her fingers. 

“Okay, use your pretty mouth on my clit and move your fingers like this,” You directed Jo, simulating the motion you did for her. 

Jo nodded and started to put your instructions to use. She sucked and licked at your swollen clit and moved her fingers inside of you. You were letting out moans and whines, praises spilling from your lips. 

Jo keened at the praise, doubling down on your pussy. Her ministrations were enthusiastic, a little uncoordinated, but it was still bringing you closer to the edge. You would let Jo practice on you whenever she wanted. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re gonna make me come.” 

Jo really wanted to make you feel good as you made her feel. She shook her head, moving her fingers faster, brushing against your g-spot. 

“Shit! Doing so well f’me baby girl, keep going. So so close.” You moaned out, pushing her face further into your cunt. Jo kept at her pace, feeling your walls clenching and twitching around her fingers. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” You came hard around Jo’s fingers and mouth. Jo continued at her pace, working you through your orgasm, and you had to push Jo away from you as she continued to move her fingers inside of you and licking at your pussy, bordering overstimulation. 

“Come here.” You beckoned, sitting up and meeting Jo in the middle, pulling her into a filthy kiss. 

“Did so well baby girl, haven’t come that hard in a while.” You praised her as you pulled away and caressed her sides. 

Jo flushed at your praise and smiled at you. She kissed you again before worry flared up inside of her. 

“This isn’t a one time thing for you is it?” Jo asked as she broke the kiss. 

You pulled her down to lay beside you. You were facing her, your hand resting on the side of her neck. “No it’s not.” You reassured her. “M’not letting you go now that I have you. Is it for you?” 

Jo breathed out a sigh of relief before shaking her head. “No, never was.” 

You sent her a dazzling smile, making her heart almost skip a beat. Jo couldn’t help but smile back at you before you kissed her, but the two of you were still smiling so wide that it could barely qualify as a kiss. 

The two of you never wanted to leave the blissful bubble of her room. The rest of the night was filled with soft caresses and quiet conversation about your hunts—a warmth settled in both yours and Jo’s chest. Everything felt right. and Jo couldn’t help but think she wanted to stay like this with you forever. Little did she know you were thinking the exact same thing. 

[runningfrom2am]

leveling the playing field IX

summary: with nowhere else to go after getting caught cheating to help lucy gray, you both make some desperately stupid decisions.

pairing: coriolanus snow x fem!reader

wc: 2.6k

tags/warnings: capitol brat!reader, maybe slightly ooc coryo, idk i tried my best. do they love each other or hate each other? who knows (we do, kind of). implications and mentions of abuse, so read with caution!! also a little bit of swearing but that's neither here nor there

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a/n: here we are!! 'season' two!! thanks so much for reading it and I'm SO so glad lots of people seem to love it :) if you do, please reblog it or leave your thoughts in the replies or in my inbox! i love hearing from you and talking about it so don't be a stranger !

without further adieu,, enter buzzcut coryo <3

next part

Coriolanus's stomach twisted as he could hear your screams from the hall, even though by then he was all the way on the other side of the school. He thought that was unsettling, only for them to abruptly stop just before he left. The silence that followed was so much worse. He didn't get any sleep, sitting on the roof in Grandma'ams rose garden with Tigris all night, wondering if you were dead.

He was just sick about it, even as he left the following morning, so early that the sun was yet to rise. It was a long, painful ride, and he spent the entire thing certain that you were dead. It was his fault, he had only wanted you to come with him, so he wouldn't be alone, but now he truly is alone and he won't even have you to write to back home. Regardless, he would try.

Rather than sit with the idea that it might even be pointless for him to live another day, especially with this unflattering haircut and a uniform that challenged the discomfort of the academy one, he decided to write to you on a paper he had found bunched between the train seats to ease his mind.

Y/N/N,

I hope you're reading this. I hope this gets back to you at home and finds you safe and sound, and you're sitting over your desk with a textbook open getting ready for university in the fall. That's not what's happening though, is it? You're probably dead. I probably killed you. If you are reading this in your room, or your library, or over my shoulder as I write this because you are only alive in what's left of your spirit, I hope you know that I am sorry. I did it because I wanted you with me, because in the moment I was so sure you'd be better off with me in the districts than you would be at home with your father. I think I was wrong. But I still miss you. You meant more to me than I ever told you. I guess, more than I ever told myself either until these last few weeks.

I think I heard them kill you after I left you with the Dean. If they did, boy, did you go out fighting. I always knew you would. I can't stop writing in case I never get to speak to you again. But again, maybe you're not dead, right?

Please tell me you're not dead.

Yours,

Always yours, your Coryo

He smoothes out the wrinkled sheet as he writes, hand shaking through most of it. He doesn't know if he should even bother sending it, or if he should just fold it up and throw it out the window in hopes that the message will find its way to your ghost. No, he has to send it. Otherwise he'll definitely never know, at least not for twenty years, and he couldn't bear that.

The wind hits the trees into the windows of the train as it rolls along the tracks, demanding that the branches be heard against the glass. It reminds him of you. Then again, what doesn't these days? Maybe it was just you letting him know you had read his letter, and that you forgive him. That would give him a semblance of peace for the rest of the ride.

When you woke up, it was impossible to tell what time it was. You only knew that it was dark, and your bedroom door was locked from the outside when you got up and carefully tried to open it only to be blocked by the mechanism.

"I have half the mind to agree with you on the Avox thing." You hear your dad sigh, his voice echoing from his study just down the hall. Your eyes widen and you try the knob again. Yep, still locked. "But we could always send her to Nine or Ten as a nurse. She's not staying here, that's certain."

"I don't want to push your decision, here, but she was saying she would tell everyone. She knows more than we thought, more details." Highbottom was here too, great.

"No, that's impossible. What did she say?"

"She knows we're selling, likely that you're storing it all here somewhere, and she knows it's enough to be treason. I don't know what else she knows, but it's risky business ever letting her out of that room again. The procedure might be our best option, here." You've heard enough, quickly making for your window instead. It's locked as well, but draping your old uniform over the lever gives you enough freedom to crush it with a particularly heavy, hardcover textbook without making much noise.

You change quickly, grabbing a few essentials that you could fit into your book bag, then climb out the window and slide down the back porch column before making as quiet of an escape as possible. Adrenaline carried you a few blocks away, but now, you were unsure what to do. You couldn't return, and you couldn't be seen, and you had a tragic shortage of friends at the moment. You find your feet carrying you toward the building you know Coriolanus lives in.

You're not particularly excited to see him, but with no other options, you're sure you can find it in yourself to be forgiving just this once. You could go to Sejanus's family home, but it's not far enough away, and you're not sure what his father would say. He'd probably call your dad in a second and it would all be for naught- you couldn't risk it. So, Coryo's it was.

You enter the building, walking straight for the elevator. He was in the penthouse, so you just have to hit the very top button and figure it out from there. You've never been to his home before, but he's talked about it plenty. Enough that you could find your way there, at least.

You groan when you quickly realize the elevator doesn't work, looking over at the stairs. It's a tall building, so you've got a long way to go. You wonder how he does this every day as you climb up set after set of stairs, taking note of how the walls are basically crumbling around you.

You knew he didn't have money, that he couldn't eat, but you didn't think he lived like this. No wonder he was so thin, and no wonder he still had any muscle left on his body. It was these damn stairs. That couldn't be it though, that wouldn't explain how his shoulders just seemed to go on for miles- maybe he had some kind of workout routine you never knew about.

You're drawn from your thoughts when you reach the top of the last staircase, hesitating to open the industrial looking door in front of you. Just beyond that was the front door to the Snow penthouse, and now that you're here, you're not sure what to do. Do you knock? You don't even know what time it is.

You sit by the door, deciding to think it over for a bit. It doesn't take you long to fall asleep leaning up against the wall where it meets the dusty floor.

Waking up, you're met with a gasp. "Y/N?" You blink open your eyes, seeing Tigris crouched in front of you, forehead creased with worry. "Are you okay? What are you doing here?"

"Tigris, hello." You mumble, gathering yourself to stand up as she helps you. "I, uh, I didn't know where to go, so..."

"Okay, okay. Come in for a second." She nods, holding your shoulder as she guides you back into the apartment. You squint at the sunrise through the large bay windows, she must have been on her way to work. "Can I get you anything? Some tea? You must be freezing..." She says, immediately shuffling into the kitchen.

"No, no. It's fine. Thank you, though." You insist, trying not to stare at the state the apartment has fallen into.

"Okay, well, please, take a seat. Tell me what's going on."

You nod slightly and move to sit down at their dining table where she joins you, reaching out for your hand which you gratefully take. "Did Coriolanus leave already?" You ask and she nods, giving you a sad smile.

"I must admit, I'm relieved to see you." She says, taking you by surprise. "Coryo thought you were dead. He was just so torn up about it, he said it was his fault but he wouldn't tell me why. I was expecting to see your passing in the papers this morning."

"Well, my days are numbered." You sigh, looking out the window again. The view was stunning. Maybe you would prefer a penthouse to your own large, empty feeling home. "My father and Dean Highbottom were discussing turning me into an Avox as a pity punishment, and I don't doubt that my father would rather bury me than have that on his name. I didn't stick around to hear their decision."

Tigris listens intently, squeezing your cold hands between her own. "And now, I don't know what to do. I had nowhere to go, I'm so sorry to intrude-"

"No, my goodness, please. You are always welcome here." She assured you. "But... what will you do?"

"I have to leave." You nod to yourself. "I have to leave and I can't come back, can I?"

"One day I'm sure it will be safe for you to return." She says, notably trying to put a positive spin on it. "I'll tell you what-" She stands quickly, going over to a hall closet and pulling out a large fur coat. "Take this, it can hide you and keep you warm. Take the next train to Twelve, that's where Coryo went." She places the coat in your lap. "He'll be ecstatic to have you and see that you're well."

You nod, standing up and pulling it on in a hurry. It was a beautiful coat, you could tell it was real fur. This must have belonged to one of their mothers. "Thank you, Tigris."

"There's another train headed there in about twenty minutes, if you rush you can make it. I had to check the schedule last night for him. Don't buy a ticket, just climb in a transport car from the opposite side, not the platform." She instructs you hurriedly,

You dig in your bag as you both head for the door, pulling out a handful of money and rifling through it to give some to her. You'll need some, but she will too.

"Here, Tigris. Take this." You say as she holds the door for you, and she instantly is shaking her head.

"No, no. I couldn't." She smiles awkwardly, waving a hand at you. "You'll need it more than I do, Coryo will be sending us cheques."

You smile at her understandingly, holding it out to her again. "If not for your help, then for this lovely jacket. Please take it. I insist."

Tigris sighs, taking it from your hand before pulling you into a hug which you gladly return. "Tell him we love him, okay?"

"He knows," You say, chin resting on her shoulder. "But I will."

It was dark again when your train reached its final stop, and you were curled up under the coat trying to sleep. You scramble to get up, having to bolt from the train before anyone came to unload the car.

Unfortunately, you didn't get the privilege of having a place to stay when you arrived, so once you're out of sight of the train, the best you can do is wander.

You don't have to wander long before you hear music. You didn't realize people were happy here, so the sounds of laughter and shouting and dancing coming from inside what looked to be an abandoned building made you tilt your head at the idea. Maybe you would just sit outside, around the side of the building where you won't be seen and you can listen.

You don't even get the chance to sit before you hear the singing start. It's Lucy Gray. You mentally scold yourself for not thinking of her sooner as you stand again quickly, finding yourself quite lightheaded. You must be hungry. Maybe there will be some food inside, or maybe you can find talk to Lucy Gray and maybe she'll let you stay with her. Just until you get yourself situated here.

Clutching your new coat tightly around yourself you walk in after attempting to dust off and salvage your clothes. Your favourite skirt and shoes took quite a beating throughout the day, and you're disappointed, to say the least. Hopefully Lucy Gray has a washing machine, but you doubt it. Did these people even know what a washing machine is? By the look of everyone in the room, the answer was a definite no.

Sure enough, Lucy Gray was on stage, singing her heart out. You had never seen her smile so wide, of course, and the kids surrounding her onstage were just as talented as she was at all their instruments. You've never seen live music like this before, only classical or opera where everyone sat quietly and listened until the end. This environment was entirely new to you.

Not wanting to interrupt, you wait until Lucy Gray steps offstage and her spot is replaced with a little blonde girl who couldn't have been older than ten.

"Give it up for the amazing Lucy Gray Baird!" The girl shouts into the mic, gesturing to your friend before more music started to play. "She'll be back, she's just taking a little break, but until then, you lot are stuck listenin' to me."

This is your chance. You push through the crowd and step into the hall you saw Lucy Gray go down. "Lucy Gray?" You call out hopefully, watching your step as to not roll a heel. In hindsight, these shoes were not ideal for the journey you took, but your options were limited by a time crunch.

"Lucy Gray?" You ask again, turning a corner and peeling into a large open room. It's a few moments before your eyes land on her, and she turns to face you having heard you walk in.

"Oh my days, I thought I recognized that voice!" She smiles, opening her arms and running up to you. "Y/N, my word, what are you doin' here?" Her excitement fades quickly into concern as she drops her arms from around you.

"Long story..." You chuckle nervously, pulling at your coat again as she nods for you to continue. "We got caught, for the compact. And the snakes, somehow. Coriolanus put our handkerchiefs that you used in the tank so they wouldn't attack you, I guess. I didn't know. Then they pulled us out of class the next day, he told them it was me, so then I put up a fight and they sedated me. When I woke up I was at home and they were talking about having my tongue cut out and turning me into one of those servants but I'm sure my dad would rather have me dead. So," You sigh, trying to summarize it as quickly as possible. "I ran."

Lucy Gray shook her head, mouth agape in shock at all the information she just took in. "Okay, wait... So they were going to kill you?"

You nod.

"But that teacher of yours seemed so nice."

"Sorry?"

"Yeah, he gave me some money and escorted me into the train himself."

You scoff, shaking your head. "He's never liked either of us, but that's only because I have dirt on him. I don't know what Coryo did."

"Well," Lucy Gray sighs, rubbing your shoulders gently. "I'm glad you're here. That you're safe."

"You too." You smile. "Can I just say, too, we were so proud of you. We were so lucky to be your mentors."

"I count myself the lucky one." She grins. "Let's move on, shall we? On the up and up."

"Yes, sounds lovely." You grin at her.

"Can I get you some water? Liquor? What do you need?" She asks, turning at that and going over to a bench in the middle that had a few water bottles.

"I would love some water." You breathe out, joining her and sitting down as she hands one to you.

"Lucy Gray, could I ask you for a really big favour?" You say after taking your first sip.

"Please." She nods.

"Can I stay with you?"

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[writethelifeyouwant]

Can't Tie Me Down - Ch 3/6

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Reader Rating: 18+ Tags: Omegaverse, prostitution, dub con (medical necessity), Y/N OOC, Sam and John being douches about Omegas, thigh riding, making out, heavy petting, praise kink Word Count: 3782 Created For: @spnabobingo - Feral Omega

Series Masterlist

Hey Y/N, it’s Dean. Uh, Winchester. Listen, I know you usually call me to book but I thought I’d just um, I’d call you this time. So, yeah uh, if you want to meet up again next month uh, call me back?

Beep.

Hey, it’s Dean. Um, ignore that last message. It was lame and it was kind of a lie. I didn’t call you to book for next month, I called to ask if you wanted to get coffee sometime? Or even a drink? I don’t know, so um, yeah, give me a call, I guess. Bye Y/N.

Beep.

Hey Y/N, it’s Dean. Again. Uh, sorry if my last message freaked you out. You don’t have to go out with me. I probably crossed a line I shouldn’t have. But um, look, I know this is usually about the time of the month we see each other and I just wanted to check in and see if you were okay? If you uh, still need some help this week just give me a call, yeah? Hope you’re good.

Beep.

Y/N was doubled over in pain, cramps roiling in her belly. It was infuriating, and embarrassing, and unbelievably unfair that listening to these messages play back through the speaker on her phone was the only thing that was really helping the pain to subside.

She’d wanted to start taking suppressants again the second after Dean left. She didn’t want to let whatever had started to come over them go any further. She couldn’t let it. But Dr. Weber had refused to issue a prescription to her; she’d said it was too dangerous to override her heats in this state, that the pills might even send her body into some kind of toxic shock. So now Y/N was here, in heat and without an Alpha in sight.

If she had even let herself contemplate calling Dean again to book their usual time for this month, that train of thought would have been cut off the moment he asked her out. That was too far; too close to Dean actually being her Alpha. So she’d ignored his messages – but she hadn’t deleted them. Something had told her that she shouldn’t just delete them outright and forget about him; now she was fighting the swirl of relief and bitterness inside her as a result. She was glad she had the recordings, because Dean’s voice was helping a little to soothe the sting of her heat and the gut wrenching cramps that were surging through her, but she was angry at her body for its reaction to the sound of the Alpha. She hated that this physiological programming kept finding ways to pull her back under its control.

So no matter how much pain Y/N was in, no matter how much her every instinct was reaching out for Dean, kicking and screaming inside her and telling her to call him, she wouldn’t do it.

Y/N had taken a few extra days of leave after her last cycle to rest and recover once the pain had subsided. It had been hard, going through that alone, but not impossible; and that’s what Y/N was clinging to now. She didn’t want to go through that every month, but she wanted an Alpha even less. She could do it. If this was as bad as it got, she could handle that.

When Y/N got back to work, people seemed to be treating her differently. It was like she gave off an aura that prevented people from getting too physically close. Everyone hung back around her, not stepping up to shake hands or give comradical pats on the back. Even cups of coffee were set down kind of near her, instead of handed straight over like they always had been before.

The not-so-secret looks of pity were the worst. At first Y/N didn’t know what was wrong, she could just tell something was off. Then she caught Brent looking at her over the break table in the lounge like she was some poor, pathetic puppy that had wandered off and gotten lost; there was sugary sympathy and sadness, but also a clear desire to take the puppy home and keep it for himself. Then, one by one, Y/N caught the other Alphas on her floor looking at her the exact same way – even some of the Betas. And the stares she got from the other Omegas had to be the worst of all of them.

The Omegas were all looking at Y/N with far too much understanding, silent solidarity but tinged with the wistful encouragement that it would all get better one day – as soon as she’d found her Alpha.

But why couldn’t things get better without an Alpha? Why did she have to sacrifice her autonomy over her body, over herself, in order to not be crippled by an absurd biological urge on a monthly basis? Why couldn’t Omegas live the lives they wanted to live, and not the ones that Alphas wanted them to lead?

Her anger bubbled hotter every day.

The next week, everyone in the office was freaking out because the Congresswoman was going to be back home for the next month, instead of in the Washington office. Y/N hadn’t actually met her yet, since she’d begun working ] for the public policy team, but she’d seen her speak a few times during the campaign and she had liked her. Congresswoman Charlie Bradbury was an Alpha, Y/N remembered, but she spoke forcefully about the issue of Omega rights in the workplace and under healthcare regulations, and even advocated public funding for research into neutralisation.

That had been the big selling point for Y/N. The science wasn’t there yet, and it might not even get close in her lifetime, but if she could contribute to something that meant Omegas wouldn’t have to suffer through their heats if they didn’t want to, she was going to do everything she could to help. The perk of paid time off for anyone who was too incapacitated to work during their cycle was also a huge bonus – most places weren’t so lenient but the Congresswoman believed in being the change you wanted to see in the world.

All the bustle and stress in the office was starting to give Y/N a headache, so she popped some painkillers back with the last dregs of her coffee before pouring a fresh cup. The moment she turned around with the full, warm mug in her hands, the Congresswoman pushed through the big glass doors at the other end of the office. A wave of nerves crashed over Y/N the second she saw her, and she felt herself heat up and start to sweat. She had to make a good impression on this woman – people were already saying she might be president one day down the line.

“What smells amazing?” was the first question out of the Congresswoman’s mouth. Her eyes swept the room and landed on Y/N by the coffee pot, fresh mug in her hand. “Bingo,” she clicked her fingers and pointed at Y/N. “There any more of that around here?”

“Oh uh, yes, ma’am, here,” Y/N stammered, nerves in a jumble, trying to point at the coffee with her shoulder, which she realised too late wasn’t going to work. It just looked like she had some sort of odd nervous tick.

“Awesome!” The Congresswoman smiled widely and marched over to the coffee machine, brushing right past Y/N in her quest for a mug. Y/N spun towards her, not knowing why she felt like she needed to keep her attention on her boss but feeling strange ignoring her as well. She must have turned too quickly because she felt dizzy for a moment, and had to lean against the counter to steady herself. “Are you alright?” Charlie touched her shoulder when she noticed Y/N’s far off expression.

“What?” Y/N blinked, a shiver running through her as Charlie withdrew her hand. “Yeah, sorry, um, we have a meeting to talk through the funding proposal for the research initiative if you want to do that now?”

“Oh! That’s you? Perfect, let’s go to my office then,” Charlie picks up her mug and sets off but then stops and turns back to Y/N. “Um, where is my office?” Charlie turned back to ask. Y/N laughed, and felt a bit more at ease but for some reason she still felt hot and nervous.

“Here, I’ll show you.” Y/N pointed the way and led Charlie into the room at the end of the hall.

When they were closed into the little office, Y/N sat at the chair in front of the desk and looked down to sort out the papers in her lap. When she looked back up Charlie was right next to her, leant against the front of the desk, coffee cup cradled between her hands.

“Right, show me what we’ve got so far,” Charlie looked down at Y/N expectantly.

“Yeah so, I have the draft proposal here,” Y/N handed over a copy and felt a rush of tension shoot down her arm where her elbow bumped into Charlie’s. Her throat tightened and it felt like her whole chest was restricting as she kept trying to force words out. “We’ve started off asking for two fifty to start, assuming they’ll slash everything in committee. We can probably get things set up with a hundred and build from there if we have to.”

“Million, yeah?” Charlie checked absentmindedly, flipping through the packet.

“Yeah,” Y/N hissed, a roll of pain running through her gut right when she goes to answer.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Charlie checked again, setting down her papers and coffee and focusing intently on Y/N.

“Ye–” Y/N broke off in a conflicted moan when Charlie pressed her hand on her forehead, pain was surging through her core, but the feel of skin against skin was pleasant. Still, underneath everything it didn’t feel right, didn’t feel like what she needed.

“No, you’re not okay, you’re in heat,” it dawned on Charlie, and she quickly withdrew her hand and rushed around her desk to root through her bag. Out of the corner of her eye, Y/N saw Charlie pop a tablet into her mouth and swallow it down. “Okay, let’s get you home,” Charlie went to usher her out of her chair but Y/N tried to stay put.

“I’m fine, it’s not– I just had mine, it’s not time,” Y/N complained, but she couldn’t focus on Charlie to look her in the eyes while she was speaking because everything in her vision was swimming. A flash of pain clenched her stomach and she doubled over in her chair, clutching her briefing papers to her chest. It must have painted a pathetic picture.

“C’mon, I’m taking you home,” Charlie hoisted her out of the office and pushed her out to the car, and Y/N had run out of fight. She gave Charlie her address and curled up in the passenger seat, and then she was being eased out of the car and up the stairs to her apartment.

When they were inside, Charlie settled Y/N onto the couch. She crouched down and brushed the stray hairs off Y/N’s face, her kind, blue eyes staring deeply into Y/N’s pained ones.

“Can I help?” Charlie asked cautiously, and laid a hand on Y/N’s neck. Y/N shook her head regretfully. Charlie was nice, and sure she was cute, but she wasn’t what Y/N needed right now. “Do you have anyone I can call instead?” Charlie wasn’t the least bit phased by Y/N’s rejection.

Y/N started to shake her head but then another cramp seized her and she felt like she wanted to scream with the pain. She couldn’t do this.

“Dean,” Y/N whimpered reluctantly, not looking Charlie in the eye, like that would somehow make it more real. “Call Dean.”

“Okay, Dean it is,” Charlie got up and pulled her phone out of her back pocket. “Number?”

“Fridge,” Y/N jerked her head towards the kitchen where Dean’s card was tacked to the fridge door. Charlie moved out of her line of sight, and Y/N heard her start to speak, asking for Dean, but she didn’t listen closely to the conversation, too distracted by the bubbling, stabbing pains in her belly. She absently found herself wondering if this is what childbirth felt like.

Y/N must have dropped off, because the sound of a knock on the apartment door suddenly jerked her awake, and she looked around, startled. As soon as she was conscious again the pain returned, and she was just considering how she would possibly get up to answer the door when Charlie walked past her to open it.

“Sam?” Charlie asked when she opened it. Sam? Y/N wondered to herself. Who was Sam? She couldn’t see around Charlie from her place on the couch.

“Yeah, that’s me,” a deep, gentle voice answered from out of sight.

“Thank god, she’s getting worse I think,” Y/N overheard Charlie’s sigh of relief.

“Yeah, I’m not surprised,” the man’s voice, Sam, replied. “I spoke with Dean on my way over, he told me they didn’t meet last month. He just figured she’d found another Alpha in the meantime.”

“Okay, now you’re here I should get back to the office,” Charlie walked back over to the couch and put herself in Y/N’s view. “Y/N?” she pulled her face up out of her hands. Y/N blinked up at her boss tearily. “Sam Winchester is here, he’s going to help you out until you feel better, okay?”

Y/N nodded weakly and she twisted to watch Charlie leave but her eyes landed on Sam and she was transfixed. The Alpha was big, taller than Dean, broader in the shoulders and God, his hands. Y/N felt herself clench, and this time it wasn’t a cramp. She needed this Alpha – inside her, fucking her, taking care of her – and she needed him now. Conscious thought was fading more and more by the second.

Cautiously, Sam approached Y/N where she was still curled up on the couch, hand held out in front of him like he was offering it to a puppy to sniff.

���Hey there,” he crouched down, bringing his mass right in front of her and my God he smelled fucking delicious. “I’m Sam,” he reached out and brushed Y/N’s hair behind her ear and instinctively she leant into the touch. “Good girl,” Sam murmured softly as he ran his fingers through her hair. “Good little Omega, aren’t you?”

If she was in her right mind, Y/N would have fought him. Cursed him, spit in his face, something. She wasn’t a ‘good little Omega’, and she never cared to be. But right now the praise sang through her and lifted the pain singing through her body to something bright and pleasant. Right now, she needed to be good for the Alpha, so he would give her what she so desperately wanted.

Y/N keened, leaning forward to bury her head in Sam’s shoulder to scent him. “Alpha,” she breathed heavily and nuzzled into his body, and Sam reached out and wrapped his arms around her.

“Hey sweetheart,” Sam cooed and kissed her gently on the top of her head. “I don’t know what Dean was talkin’ about. You’re not difficult are you?” Y/N shook her head vigorously in protest. “No, you’re gonna be so good for me, huh baby girl?”

“Need you Alpha,” Y/N whined, nodding.

“I know baby, c’mon, I gotcha.” Sam scooped Y/N into his arms effortlessly and carried her through to the bedroom. He laid her gently on the bed, and set to work undressing her. Sam’s hands felt warm and sure against her body, and the rough pads of his fingers teasing along her skin sent shivers coursing through her and slick leaking into her panties.

When Sam got her down to her underwear he stepped back briefly to discard his own clothing as quickly as he could, then climbed onto the bed with her. Y/N grabbed for him, pulling Sam down on top of her and attacking his mouth. Sam didn’t fight her, but happily cradled Y/N’s body beneath his. She arched under him, trying to rub her centre against whatever was in reach, which happened to be Sam’s groin.

“Shit,” Sam groaned as Y/N tried to get herself off against him. He must have been able to feel her soaking through the thin material of her panties, because she could feel it plastered sloppily to her skin. “Needy little thing, aren’t you baby?” Y/N could hear the grinning approval in Sam’s voice even though she couldn’t see him smiling. She buried her face against his shoulder and breathed him in. He smelled so incredible and sexy, it brought a small sob to her lips.

“Alpha,” Y/N whimpered desperately. All they were doing was making out and grinding but with the tug of her panties against her clit with every roll of their hips, she was already so, so close.

“Yeah, that’s it baby,” Sam grunted, and he shifted their legs so his thigh was between hers, pressing right where she needed it. “You’re gonna cum for me, aren’t you sweetheart? I can smell it,” Sam dipped his head to her neck and scraped his teeth over her mating vein lightly. Y/N keened at the unexpected ripple of pleasure that shot through her and bucked up hard into Sam’s thigh. “C’mon Omega, cum for me, you can do it baby,” Sam growled against her.

“Oh, oh my god, I– I’m cumming, I’m–“ Y/N’s words were barely intelligible.

“Good girl, Y/N, good Omega,” Sam crooned, dropping kisses against her neck, lips brushing softly over her pulse point, her mating vein. She gave a low, keening whine and craned her neck, exposed her throat – practically offered herself to Sam. She felt him grin against her skin. “Such a good Omega for me, huh baby.” Sam slithered over her body, removing her bra and panties on his way down, and settled between her legs.

“No, Alpha, need you,” Y/N nearly growled at Sam, and he looked up from between her legs, surprised but smiling.

“Sure you don’t want me to make you feel good like this? I’m really good at it,” Sam smirked. “Want to make sure you’re all sloppy and wet and open for me when I shove my cock inside this pretty little pussy.” Sam slid his finger teasingly through her folds, slicking up the digit.

“No,” Y/N did growl this time, scrambling off her back and down the bed until she was on top of Sam, grinding herself over his dick. “Fuck me Alpha, need you to fuck me.”

“Okay baby girl, whatever you need,” Sam stroked down Y/N’s back, trying to soothe her. “What are you waiting for? Put it inside, sweetheart,” Sam chuckled when Y/N just continued to grind on top of him, her slick dripping down over his cock and between his thighs.

When Y/N sank down onto Sam, she moaned wantonly. Under normal circumstances she would be judging herself for sounding like such a slut for an Alpha but she couldn’t help it. Her mind was blank beneath a fog of lust, a patchwork of want and need obscuring any inkling of rational thought. And when Sam’s knot began to form, and worked its way up inside her, Y/N knew with certainty that this was the way she wanted to feel forever.

“How’s Y/N?” Dean asked the moment he returned from his latest client. Sam looked up, puzzled, before recollection lit his face a moment later.

“Perfect,” Sam smiled wolfishly. “Honestly, don’t know what you were talking about. The second I got there she practically shoved my cock inside her.”

“Y/N? No, that’s not like her,” Dean was confused. The Y/N he knew would never eagerly submit to an Alpha. Sure he could tell she did enjoy it when they fucked, but he respected the fact that she didn’t want to admit that. Her jumping Sam the second he was inside didn’t make any sense. He’d expected her to protest, fight Sam off – to argue that she wanted Dean, instead.

“I’m telling you man, she was all over me. Perfect little slut, perfect little Omega,” Sam licked his lips, reminiscing.

“Don’t call her that,” Dean shot at Sam before he could think through what he was saying.

“What, a slut?” Sam chuckled darkly, unfazed by Dean’s protest.

“Omega,” Dean’s voice was dropping into a defensive growl. “She’s not yours, you don’t get to call her that.”

“Oh wow,” Sam’s eyes went wide, genuine surprise gracing his features. “You got a crush, big brother?”

“Shut it, Sam,” Dean’s teeth clenched as he levelled a glare at his little brother, who was smirking pointedly towards him.

“What, you think you’re gonna get to claim her? After everything you told me about how she was fighting you tooth and nail?” Sam was stalking towards Dean, closing him in against the older man’s desk in their shared office. “Because if anyone is gonna claim the bitch I think it should be me. She was practically begging me to do it.”

“I said shut up!” Dean shouted as he shoved Sam back, baring his teeth.

“Boys!” A gruff voice shouted from nearby, and Sam and Dean both startled and leapt apart. “What the hell’re you fighting about now?” John grumbled as he stomped through their office to get to the door of his own.

“Dean’s got it bad for a little Omega bitch,” Sam sneered, “and he’s mad that she liked my knot better than his.” Dean pounced on Sam but John pulled him off with a grunt.

“Shove it, both of you,” John instructed, stern and dead serious. “If you can’t play nice about the bitch then neither one of you will get to fuck her, y’hear?”

“Yes sir,” Dean grumbled reluctantly after a moment’s hesitation.

“It’s a family business boys, we’re not gonna let some cunt get in the way of that – are we?”

“No sir,” Sam and Dean answered in practiced unison.

“Good. And if I catch you two fighting about this bitch again, I’ll take her next booking myself.”

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[cescalr]

9 and 23 for the ask game please 😊

9: Are there any fics you'd love to see but don't want to write yourself? What are they?

Ooh, um... I'm not sure! Something substantial for Cursed 2005, maybe, like a crossover with buffy or teen wolf or something, with jimbo as the pairing from cursed and idk just something interesting (please no b*angel or st*rek or st*dia), or a time travel fic for Supernatural that involves Dean as the POV but absolutely zero, nada, nothing of (even hints) De*tiel or winc*st, that's 100% a fix-it fic (bc my mans deserved a lot better than that ending smh. And so did Jo, and Anna, and Lisa and Ben and Charlie and Benny and- ).

23: What's one piece of advice you would give to anyone who wants to start writing or posting their writing online?

Hmm... Just go for it? Like, write whatever comes to mind and post it. And keep doing that. Over and over again, because it's all the same thing - practise. If you can't think of an idea, there's no reason not to go trawling for prompts. I've got this list of 200 prompts, can't remember where I found it, but it's really useful if I'm stuck. But yeah. Find some time, any amount of time, whether its 5 minutes or five hours, and write what you can, as much as you can, whether it's ten words or 10,000, or more or less, it doesn't matter. Just get words on screen (or on paper, if you prefer.) And then... post it. If the main issue is getting the courage to post it, don't read back over it. That's when the nervousness rears it's ugly head. Just post it. Straight up. Type right into the Ao3 doc and hit post if you have to, just... find a way to minimise the amount of time you give yourself to get all worked up about whether it's 'good enough' or not. It won't be perfect the first time you write something - nothing ever is. Everything requires practise. And each time you post something, you get better at it. It gets easier. If proofreading is the bane of your existence, just post it and come back later to fix any issues. If titling it is a problem pick a random word or a song lyric or hell, a sentence from the fic, anything at all. 'Working Title | Stiles POV All Human AU Stira Fic', even. Just. Anything. You can always change it later. Summaries an issue? Grab the first paragraph. Grab the first sentence. Put 'Stiles POV all human au, stira focus.' as the summary. Who cares? You. Can. Always. Change. It. Later.

That's the great thing about fic. Changing everything later is possible. Nothing here is permanent. If you aren't happy with something, that doesn't matter. So long as it's out there, you can get feedback (because often, we don't know why we aren't happy with something - outside help is always invaluable). Being scared of criticism is half the problem, for a lot of people... but - not to sugar coat - it's necessary. And, just to note, in my 10 years of fanfic writing, I have never, ever, gotten a single malicious comment. Not. Once. It's much rarer than people think it is. And even if you do, you can always delete it. Put comments on moderation, turn them off, if it's the main issue. Gather your confidence at your own pace - but don't forget feedback is necessary for improvement. Eventually you will need to accept it's going to happen - it's not an attack on you. It's an attempt at help. We're taught in school to consume media critically, and those who internalise that will comment constructively. English class can leave an impression - the worst thing is to take any of it personally. Having a negative mindset (they hate it) versus a positive mindset (they want me to improve at this thing I enjoy doing, they're trying to help, they're being supportive) can make all the difference.

Eventually, you'll need to turn those comments back on. But you don't need to take anyone's shit, hence why moderation is a thing. There is a difference between constructive criticism and hate - but it's rare you'll get the latter. Tone is hard to convey in text form; benefit of the doubt is the best way forward.

Make sure you've got friends/mutuals you can ramble with about your fics. it's genuinely the most helpful thing. Give them snippets, do the whole cheerleader routine for each other. It's great. Brainstorm with each other. Not necessarily doing collaborative fic (though you might find that's what works best for you!) but just, geeking out with each other. It makes a huge boost for your ego, and that's useful for your confidence when it comes to posting things. But also, if you trust them, it makes taking their advice easier.

Sometimes, it might feel like two steps forward and one step back. That's great! It's still a step forward. Go at your own pace. The worst thing you can do is rush yourself and burn out. If it takes you a year to update, it takes you a year. I assure you, the readers will still be there, and they'll be happy to see the update. Nobody's going to hate you for taking your time. Prioritise your health. I promise it makes your work better if you're in a good place, and you don't have too much on your plate.

Though, having said that, if you find you work best with about twenty wips all at once updated every week, then go for it! Like I said; your own pace. If a schedule helps you, have one. If it doesn't, don't. I don't have a schedule. I have about 40 wips posted, and a few that aren't yet. It can take me a year to update, or I'll do four in a week. People are pleased either way - what matters is that you wrote something, and it exists, and other people can read it. Isn't that awesome? You've made something. You've made a mark. Someone's happy because of you, because you wrote something they like. Who cares if there's twenty typos and you use the wrong you're* (*or equivalent in your language, ofc) - you can fix that later. And it didn't stop that person's enjoyment of the first fic you ever posted, which might not be as good as your future fics, but it's still special. It's still yours.

Prioritise the thing you want to prioritise. Plot, relationships (of any nature), whatever. Prioritise that. The rest will fall into place. Personally, I prioritise characterisation. interpersonal dynamics follow, part and parcel of character exploration, then plot, as an extension. Do what suits you. And people don't tend to mind very much about any of these. If characterisation matters to you not one whit, just put OOC in the tags and be done with it. Plot doesn't matter? Perfectly fine! You don't want to write ships? Nobody's forcing you. Do what you want. It's just fanfiction. That's kind of the point. There's no need to feel pressure to write a certain thing. I'm in a lot of fandoms with a lot of very large ships. I'd get a lot more readers if I wrote st*rek, or d*stiel, or whatever, but I don't, because I wouldn't enjoy it. Write what you want to see. What you want to read. That's the best advice I can give. If you cry at your own fic, perfect. If you laugh at your own fic, brilliant. If your own fic leaves you all giddy like, grinning wide, amazing. It's gonna give someone else that reaction, too.

Hits, kudos, comments - they're not everything. Ao3, for harry potter, has 5000 pages of fic, with some of the tags I don't like excluded. It's not a case of people not liking your fic - it's a case of people not finding it. Don't worry. Recognition will come with time. Also, the ratio for fics is kind of awful, anyway. Comments and kudos vs hits is always poor; 2%, 5%, 7%. Don't worry too much about it. If people read it, it's likely they liked it. A lot of people are just lazy, and don't press the kudos button. A lot of people are incredibly nervous, or don't know what to say, so they don't comment. Another thing; some of your fics are going to be more popular than others. This is normal. Fandom size, fandom activity, content of fic, tags - prevalence of fic type, etc etc. One of my fics has around 15k notes. the rest are all below 6k. the runner up is a whole 10k below that fic. This is to be expected, and it's nothing to tear your hair out about. Write, first and foremost, for yourself. The rest, as always, comes later.

Really, tldr; you can always fix it later. the rest comes later. recognition comes later. the best thing to do - the first thing to do, the only thing to do - is just start. Post something. Anything. And go from there however you wish.

In 2016 i had zero subscribers on Ao3. I've got 72 now. These things just take time. In 2016 i'd written 30k words. I've written 1.2 million now. These things just take time. Through fandom, mostly fanfiction, I've gained people I'd consider friends. I think it's a really cool endeavour, and I think - for your confidence, peace of mind, and social sphere - it's also a really positive one.

[1000roughdrafts]

Never Have I Ever (1)

Square Filled: Mutual Pining  Pairing: Dean Winchester X Fem!reader, Sam x Jess, Cas x ? 😉(only mentioned) Warnings: slight angst, language, kissing, implied smut (kinda, since part 2 is all the smut) OOC Dean,  Summary: College!AU - Dean gets jealous of the attention he thinks you’re receiving from Cas during a small party at your house and doesn’t know what to do with it, so he leaves the room to keep drinking.  A/N: originally starting writing this for my jackhammer square for kink bingo, but when I reached nearly 4K before getting to the beginning of the smut I realized I should split into 2 parts. Also on mobile and having issues. AND A HUGE THANK YOU TO @deanwanddamons​ for being my beta!!! <3  Word Count: 3.7k

Written for @spndeanbingo​

With laughter echoing in the small quarters of your living room, your roommate and best friend, Jess, dances on the coffee table to the music playing from cheap television speakers. Standing behind the couch as you watch her, you throw back the last of your drink. Setting the glass on the kitchen counter, you mutter an ‘oops’ when it clunks against the tile.

After scanning the room, hoping to see Dean, you wave a hand at Jess, “okay, okay, get down from there before you break something,” you giggle.  Walking around the couch, you point at Sam, “help her down, will ya? Cas, you see where Dean ran off to?”

Lifting his eyes only long enough to look from one side to the other, he goes back to his phone, “probably making another drink? You know how he loves his whiskey,” he shrugs, leaning back into the chair.

Rolling your eyes, you raise your voice, “okay, no one start any games until I find him.” You point at Jess, “and stay off the table, please.”

Straightening out her back to mock salute at you, she breaks into laughter before turning back to Sam.

Leaning forward, you check the dining room once more. Nothing. Turning on your heels, you head down the hallway to check the bedrooms, even knocking on the bathroom door. You frown when you realize that maybe he left without saying goodbye.

Sighing, you turn the corner to see the door of your office shut. With your palm pressed against the door, you turn the knob. It creaks loudly as you push it open.

Dean sits in the chair at your desk, twisting the cap of the whiskey as he glances over at you, an annoyed breath heaving through his nose. Turning his head back to the bottle, he pours himself a glass. He leans back in the chair as he brings it to his lips.

“Dean-o,” you sing, taking slow and cautious steps over to him. “Whatcha doin’ in here all by your lonesome?” You bend to kneel next to him, placing a hand on the desk to keep your balance.

“Ah, just thought I’d check over my stupid English paper a few more times,” he responds looking down at you with a cramped smile. “Don’t wanna fail that class again, even if the teach is hot,” he says through a chuckle.

“Mrs. Rose is pretty hot, isn’t she?” you smile, making him smirk. “Too bad she’s married.” Nodding he takes a sip of whiskey, “But I call bullshit,” you chuckle, “I know you a lot better than that, Winchester.” Pausing for a moment, you stand, propping your hands on your hips before speaking again, “seriously, what’s up with you?”

“It’s nothing, Y/N, honestly,” he says, “you should be out there having fun with Cas, and everyone else,” he sighs, and you notice the bitterness in his tone as he says the name. “Not in here with me.”

“But I love spending time with you,” you say, keeping your thoughts to yourself for a moment.

You walk behind him, going over to the other side of the desk, and grab a cup that’s been there for who knows how long. Giving it a quick once over, you shrug, deciding empty is clean enough. With a mischievous grin, you slow and exaggerate your movements, hoping to entice Dean into watching you before you slowly begin to fill the cup with whiskey.

When the liquid nearly reaches the brim, he sets his own glass down and jerks forward, “woah, woah, woah,” he says, holding an open hand up at you. Hiding your smile, you set the bottle on the table and carefully bring the nearly overflowing cup to your lips. “Jesus, Y/N, you’re only supposed to fill it a quarter way, half at most,” he says, leaning back. “You’re gonna spill it everywhere,” he vexatiously adds, looking up at you.

Tilting his head slightly, he spots the playful glimmer in your eyes. He quickly wets his lips before clicking his tongue, shifting his weight in the chair. With an elbow resting on the desk, he points a finger at you, “did you do that just to get a reaction outta me?” His words are hot and tempered, as though he’s annoyed you would do such a thing. The smile in his eyes, however, says otherwise.

You set the glass on the desk next to his, “no, of course not!” you lie, holding a hand to your chest. “I’m just thirsty,” you say, turning to sit on his lap. With his hand instinctively resting on your back, you lean into it like the many times you’d done in the past.

Looking into his eyes, you bring the drink to your lips, hoping that would numb the reaction you have to his smile. Clearing his throat, he takes his hand off of you.

“What’re you doing, Y/N?” he asks in a soft voice.

“We’re about to play Never Have I Ever, and I don’t want you feeling left out,” you slur.

His eyes shift down your torso, “I meant right now,” he says.

Looking down into your lap, you tilt your head back up, your eyes meeting his, “does this make you uncomfortable now?” you ask, genuinely curious, but with liquor coursing through your veins, it doesn’t quite come off that way.

“Yeah,” he says softly, “well, I mean, no. Kind of,” he says, head tilted slightly. “But not for the reasons you might think,” he confesses.

“Why then?” you ask, intrigued.

“Because, Y/N,” he breathes, pinching the bridge of his nose. You can see by the way his eyes distractedly jump around the room that he is choosing his words carefully. Letting out a long breath, he shifts both of you in the chair, his hand finding its way onto your back again. “Because I see the way Cas looks at you, and the way you’ve been looking at him, and this-” he wags a finger between the two of you, “doesn’t sit right with me knowing how he feels about you.”

Rocking your torso away from him, you squint down at him. “You think Cas and I have a thing?” you scoff as you take a gulp of your whiskey. Your face twists as it goes down, and you swallow again to get the taste from your mouth, nodding to help it. “You couldn’t get any further from the truth if you tried. We barely know him! Plus, I’m fairly certain that I’m not even his type, if you know what I mean,” you say, your face scrunching up in thought.

Ignoring the latter half of your statement, Dean reiterates his own point, “well, he’s my friend and it’s obvious to me that he likes you, so,” he waves his hand at you, shooing you away.

“But I’m your friend, too, Dean,” you say, “and for way longer, might I add.”

He sighs, “I know that, Y/N, I do. I’m just saying that-”

“What? His imaginary feelings matter more because ‘bro code’ or something?” you say accusingly.

“Not at all,” he shakes his head.

“So, he’s told you that he has some sort of feelings?”

“Not exactly-”

“He either did, or he didn’t, Dean,” you interrupt. “Which is it?” He sighs, hanging his head, “so you don’t know anything for sure, but you’re saying that because... why? What’s really goin’ on?”

For the first time since you met, the silence between you is nearly unbearable. Dropping your feet to the floor, you scoot off of him.

“Y/N-” he starts, wrapping his hand around your wrist.

You pull away and turn to face him, “whatever, Dean, let’s just drop it,” you nod your head to the door. “You gonna come hang out with us, or what?”

He lets out a long breath, looking into his lap. The moment for him to tell the truth has passed, leaving him unsure of when, or if, he’d ever get to, and he curses himself for not being straight with you from the get go. Standing, he motions for you to lead the way.

You walk out to see Jess on the coffee table again, Sam sitting on the edge of the couch, egging her on with dollar bills. Cas sits in the same position you left him in, eyes still planted on his phone.

“Jess!” you scold, “I seriously don’t feel like taking you to the hospital tonight. For the love of my sanity, please get the fuck down,” you say before switching your attention to Sam, “quit being a bad influence or you’re grounded,” you laugh. They both mutter ‘sorry’ through a giggle, and Sam holds his hands out to help her into his lap.

“I tried to warn them,” Cas says in a monotone voice.

“Doubtful,” you sass, grabbing the remote to lower the volume. “Maybe if you were paying attention to anything besides that damn phone, they’d have listened,” you jest.

“I’m sorry,” he says quickly, scooting forward in the recliner, pulling the phone down to meet your eyes, he points at it. “I met this guy... Gabe,” his eyes roll back for a short moment as he moans lightly, “oh, he’s amazing. We’ve only been seeing each other for a couple of weeks, but I really think he’s the one,” he smiles, going back to his phone.

You chuckle, turning to give Dean your best ‘I told you so’ eyes. He shrugs, and you accept it as a for-now apology.

“Invite him over,” you suggest, “but either way, we’re about to play more games, so please put it away. Just for a little while.”

Taking a few steps forward, you lean to set the remote back onto the coffee table. Walking backwards, you misjudge the distance and accidentally bump into Dean. You quickly turn around to apologize, but when your eyes meet his, you feel like you’ve been hit by an asteroid.

You’re unsure if it’s from the alcohol, or the fact that he’s never looked at you with such fervor before, but your head spins. Is it the beat of the music pounding in your chest or are you really having an ever consuming response to Dean’s slightly curled lips and squinted eye?

“Really? Ohh, I don’t know if he would come,” Cas says, waving a hand, and reminding you that you are not, in fact, alone with Dean. Absentmindedly biting his lower lip, Cas contemplates the idea. “You know what? I’m gonna do it. Can’t hurt to try, right?” He finishes up the text and claps his hands, rubbing them together with a smile. “Oookay, what game we playin’?”

You clear your throat, ripping your eyes from Dean’s to plop onto the couch next to Jess. “Never Have I Ever; play it before?” you ask.

“I have,” he says.

Glancing at Dean, you pat the cushion next to you, “come on, sit,” you urge.

He playfully rolls his eyes before sitting down, his hand brushing against your arm as he rests it at his side.

“I’ll start,” Cas smiles, leaning forward. His eyes zone in on Dean, “never have I ever slept with a professor in hopes of passing a class,” he smirks.

“Son of a bitch,” Dean laughs, shaking his head. He reaches in front of him for his drink, the knuckles of his fingers sweeping across your arm as he does. Something inside of you screams that it was intentional, especially since that doesn’t happen twice in a row for no reason, but maybe you’re just reading too deep into it, you think. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, are you?” he laughs, taking a drink.

“Did that even work?” Jess asks.

As the liquid glides down his throat, Dean can only shake his head.

Sam laughs, “don’t get any crazy ideas now,” he jokes.

“No, Jess, cause if it did, my GPA would be a helluva lot better than a three oh. Okay, my turn,” Dean says, clapping his hands together and scooting a bit forward. Now that it’s like that, he thinks, the game is on. “Never have I ever been arrested for public indecency,” he says, craning his neck to look at you expectantly.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” you laugh, rotating to face him as you hold a finger in the air. “You dared me to do it,” you say, turning to face the rest of your friends, “you don’t say no to a dare,” you add in a quieter voice as you shrug.

Everyone nods, humming in agreement. Cas laughs before asking what ‘indecency’ entailed.

You and Dean both speak out to tell the story, sharing a look before he apologized through laughter.

“It’s your embarrassing story, you tell it.”

Rolling your eyes, you turn to Cas, “it’s nothing, really. We snuck out to hang at the lake by our high school, and Dean struck up truth or dare. The first dare this asshole gave me was to skinny dip. I was more concerned about the cold water than I was about getting caught, and well,” you say.

“Wait, where was I?” Sam asks, leaning forward.

“Probably out with one of your geek friends,” Dean teases.

“Whatever, jerks.”

Dean laughs, “bitch,” turning to see you rubbing the outside of your glass, “drink,” he says, nudging your arm with his elbow.

“Oh, right,” you grin, pulling yourself from your thoughts.

After a few more rounds, your turn rolls around again. “Uh, okay, never have I ever,” you look over at the way Jess and Sam ogle over each other and smile. “Never have I ever broken a bone,” you say, struggling to keep a straight face.

Sam’s eyes shoot right at you, his lips pursed together into a glower. Dean’s laughter fills your ears, causing you to break. You know the story, you were there, but you weren’t sure if he’d told Jess and it was absolutely something she ought to know about him.

“Go on, Sammy. Drink up,” Dean taunts, holding the glass in the air in a mock toast.

Sam rolled his eyes before telling Cas and Jess about the time you and Dean were able to convince him he was Batman. Poor kid thought he could fly, jumped off the room of their shed and broke his arm.

You weren’t expecting it. Dean did it and was just fine. Of course, as a kid, when your friend’s little brother breaks their arm, you panic, but Dean... he knew exactly what to do. He propped little Sammy onto the handlebars of his bike and rode all the way to the emergency room, instructing you to follow behind on yours. Dean kept a straight, yet comforting face the entire time, never once showing Sam how scared and guilty it really made him feel.

Little did he know how cool that made him in Sam’s eyes; his protective brother, saving the day once again. Dean didn’t forgive himself for a long time, not even after Sam told him that he was okay. As you look back on the way he spoke about himself that night, you realize just how badly it messed him up.

After sitting in the waiting room for what felt like hours, Sam was brought out by a nurse, cradling his casted up arm. Dean ran to his brother, dropping to his knees in front of him, pleading for his forgiveness, while trying to bribe him out of telling their parents.

You chuckle when the memory of your words come to mind, “they’re gonna know something happened the minute he walks through the door with that cast on his arm, dufus.”

“Shut up, Y/L/N,” Dean had grumbled, bringing himself to his feet. Wrapping an arm around his little brother, the three of you walked your bikes home as the sky darkened.

“Y/N,” a voice calls you out of your thoughts, “earth to Y/N,” Jess sings, rocking her shoulder into yours.

“Hm,” you hum, “yep, I’m listening,” you say, straightening out your back as they laugh.

“I guess we should call it a night, then, huh?” Cas suggests, pulling out his phone. “At least I should. Gabe wants to meet at that bar across from my place,” he says, waggling his eyebrows.

“Go get him,” Sam encourages with a laugh.

After a glance at the two love birds sitting next to you, Jess giggles and speaks up, “we’re gonna go to bed, too,” she smiles, standing up and reaching down for Sam’s hands.

As Cas says his goodbye and walks out of the door, Dean gasps out, but holds his tongue until Cas leaves. Turning to you, he says, “he was my ride home.”

“Oh, you can crash on the couch if you want. I know it’s not much, but...” you say, letting your words trail off.

Sam and Jess call out a goodnight as they walk down the hall and into her room.

“I appreciate that. Thing is, I’m not exactly tired,” he says.

“Me neither. Want another drink?” you offer, motioning to his empty cup.

He nods, leaning back into the couch as you reach for the bottle, “you sure you’re not tired? You zoned out for a bit there.”

“Yeah, I’m sure,” you say in a breath as you hand him the cup. “I was just thinking back on that day.”

“When Sam broke his arm? What about it?” he asks, sucking air in through his teeth after taking a sip.

“You were really mean to yourself, De.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugs, “you know, I’m a big brother. I was supposed to be taking care of him, not breaking his arm,” he says in a self-deprecating laugh.

“You didn’t break his arm,” you correct.

He scoffs, “I may as well have.”

“I had a hand in that too, you know. The convincing that lead to it.”

“You were a kid,” he starts.

“So were you!” you shout in a hush tone.

He chuckles, shaking his head as he looks between his legs and into his drink.

“You turned out alright, you know that?” he says, nudging your shoulder with his.

Rocking into him, you laugh and look over at him, “so did you, Dean.” Pausing, you shift your weight so that you’re facing him, “you wanna tell me what was actually going on with you earlier?”

After a heavy sigh, he scoots forward a bit, cradling his drink with both hands. He fidgets with his thumbs for a moment before opening his mouth, closing it when he doesn't grasp the right words.

“You know how I dropped out of college last year?” he finally starts, only continuing when you nod, “well, I convinced myself I was gonna fail anyway, so I took the chance away completely, before I could let myself or anyone else down,” he says, eyes swimming in his drink, “it’s kind of like that.” You nod even though you’re not sure where he’s heading. “When I want something, I can do a damn good job convincing myself I don’t deserve it, or that I’ll mess it up, or I’ll - I’ll look for reasons that it can’t work out.” He finally looks over at you, “so, when I saw you and Cas earlier, I guess my mind just did the rest,” he trails off.

Though your heart pounds at what you think he’s trying to say, you play dumb, tilting your head to the side. Real Moments with Dean Winchester are rare.

He shakes out his shoulders and clears his throat. He takes a drink of his whiskey before setting the glass on the coffee table and turning to face you. With a hand on your knee, he softens his voice, “we have been friends for a long time, Y/N. Pretty much our entire lives, and the way that I feel about you could jeopardize tha-”

With so much to say, you decide to say nothing at all. Instead, you jump at the chance to kiss him like you’d wanted to for years. He rocks back against the arm of the sofa from the force of your kiss, but quickly wraps his hands around your waist, pulling you into his lap.

A soft moan escapes your lips that sounds more like a squeak and he pulls away, scanning your face for any discontent.

You smile, kissing him softly as you lower onto him, one leg on either side of his. You grind into him, soaking in his soft, nearly voiceless, moans against your lips.

Using your teeth, you pull his lower lip into your mouth, sucking gently. Bringing your hands to his sides, you push into him as you slide them up to the sides of his face. You rock your hips from one side to the other before grinding into him again.

His hands rest on your ass, squeezing you as he pulls your hips into him, and loosening his grip just slightly as you lift up for another thrust. Baring your teeth, you bite down enough on his lip to drive him crazy. His hands race up your back and onto your face, ripping his lip from your mouth while pulling your face closer to his. Turning his head, he deepens the kiss, keeping a tight grip on your face.

Until the music hits your ears, you hadn’t realized you were rocking your hips to the tempo. The song hits a short pause, and so do you, but when the music picks up again, you grind into him harder than before.

Dean’s head falls back against the couch, and you drop your lips to his neck. Starting at his collarbone, you let your tongue slip out of your mouth to lick his neck, wrapping your lips around his skin in a kiss.

Your hands work through hair as you continue your sloppy kisses up to the underneath of his jaw, licking behind his ear before taking the lobe into your mouth. Timing your hips to the music, you add the melody of your hums against his neck.

Bringing his head back up, he growls before grabbing you by the hips and rotating you to drop you onto the couch next to him. Placing his hand on your forehead, he brushes the hair out of your face and leans down to kiss you. His lips feel hot against yours until his cold hands slip underneath your shirt. Your back arches as he squeezes one breast. He takes his time in massaging it before moving onto the next, pinching your nipple through your bra.

You weakly suggest taking it to your room before anything escalates, and Jess or Sam walk in on you. Laughing at the image of that, he agrees, holding your hand as you walk him down the hallway and into your room.

To be continued... 

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[tigerlilynoh]

My Approach to Writing

Every since getting ~350,000 words into Job & Family (my longest Supernatural fanfic), I’ve had a few conversations with people about my techniques and tips for writing.  I recently told another person that I’d share this info with them, but I decided to just post it publicly, on the off chance it’s helpful for anyone else.  

I’m by no means an expert and I’m sure I’m forgetting stuff, but this is my general approach and I credit its methodology with why I haven’t yet had writer’s block.

Non-Linear Writing

I don’t write linearly.  Instead I try to work as much of the story as I can at the same time.  I will try to write content for multiple chapters at once dividing my time 80% to the upcoming chapter and 20% to later content (usually the 2-3 chapters after the upcoming one and/or major events much later in the plot). I do this for three reasons:

It’s easier to avoid writing myself into corners by seeing the logical fallout of a chapter while I’m working on it.

If the upcoming chapter is particularly angsty/violent/etc and I need a mental break, then I can switch away from it yet still be productive.

It helps reduce the workload toward the end of the story. I’d been writing the last four chapters of J&F for over six months by the time those chapters were posted. The fact that they were already significantly written made it less overwhelming to end the story.

On another level of non-linear writing, I will often work on scenes until they are ~90% done, then rearrange their order to form a chapter or multiple chapters. I never write a chapter from front to back.

Also, by jumping around in your writing it turns the writing process into more of a game.  You have points A, C, & E with certain restrictions based on the characters’ natures, themes, etc.  Then all you have to do is solve for points B & D.  I know, easier said than done, but a little structure can make things easier than freeform creativity.

Outlining & Organizing

I outline/organize like a crazy person. Outlines are fucking magic because they make complex stories simple for you to understand and show you all the places where you can tinker. Some of the types of outlines/organizational tools I’ve used are:

Overall plot outline - I definitely recommend this because it’s your roadmap

Fight/smut outlines - if you hate or are scared of writing fights or sex scenes, try outlining the action, then filling it in with the texture.  It makes the process more manageable.

Character arc outlines - against the overall plot outline, mark the major points in a character’s personal struggle/growth. I had one of these for Sam, Dean, Ruby and others in J&F, which helped me make sure a character didn’t languish in their development.

Character prevalence outline - against the overall plot outline, mark which characters are actually in the scenes and to what extent (major, minor, only referenced). I like to assign colors to each character so it’s easy to spot if Bobby is missing for like ten chapters for no good reason.

Scene type outline - against the overall plot outline, mark what types of scenes you’re including. My go to categories are: Fights, Sex, Fluff, Background exposition (backward looking), Tactical planning (forward looking), Internal angst, & Interpersonal.  Again I organize by color for quick reference. By tracking these you’ll see if you’ve maybe gotten super angsty and your readers or characters might need an emotional break, etc.

Distinguishing characteristics table - if you have a lot of characters to keep track of, create a table for their characteristics. Include things like: Strengths, weaknesses, fighting style, fighting weight class, sexual orientation, habits, speech patterns, thing they’ll refuse to do, etc. This’ll help you maybe characters who are otherwise very similar unique.

Knowledge In/Out table - for really complicated plot points I’ll make a table that organizes per scene/chapter all the requisite knowledge the characters must have going into the scene and all the new knowledge (that is necessary for a future plot point) that the character must gain. This is helpful for organizing your foreshadowing.

Timeline vs Outline - if you’re presenting content in a non-chronological fashion, I can’t stress enough the importance of having a timeline of events as distinct from your plot outline.

My basic routine for writing content

Write some basic dialogue - This creates a skeleton for the scene and it reminds you what the hell is happening if you’re bouncing around.

Insert minimal descriptions of actions like “he said”

Write some short paragraphs giving insight into the characters’ thoughts, feelings, motivations.

Add major physical events like the basic structure of a fight, sex scene, or if you really need for character A to end up holding object B.

Add more actions that bridge the gap between dialogue and/or major events.

Write more dialogue that addresses the details of the actions you’ve just created.

Add physical description/setting (I expect most people do this earlier).

Read through what you’ve got so far asking yourself questions like: 

Are the characters acting in character? 

Are the characters acting rationally? 

Are the characters acting in a way that reflects the emotional trauma that they’re going through? 

Am I writing myself into a corner? 

Do I know how I could resolve the conflict that exists in this part of the story?

Do all of the scenes serve a purpose?

Before you start finalizing a scene, ask yourself if you’ve made the content unrealistic in your attempt to make the story easier on yourself. I can’t tell you how many times I rewrote large pieces of story because I was nearly done with a section and thought “But in real life people aren’t this lucky.”

Reread your work in whatever order you want while asking the who, what, where, why, how. And add bits as needed to answer those questions.

Skim the text looking for *** (see below for tip) that need replacing and areas that need segues.

Read through from beginning to end looking for continuity problems and subjects that need more elaboration.

Proofread/final pass.

General Tips

If you’re in the middle of writing and you can’t think of the next sentence, witty retort, paragraph, or how to end the section, just type *** and keep moving. Don’t let yourself get bogged down. That’s a sure fire way to get frustrated and discouraged. Later on you can tackle it with fresh eyes.

You can use coincidences to get your characters into trouble, but try like hell to avoid using coincidences to get them out of trouble. Laziness is only forgivable a few times, so use it wisely.

Know where you’re going, but stay flexible on how you get there. For example, as you write your story you’ll become more and more familiar with your characters and after awhile you might realize that something you’d been planning doesn’t make sense for them anymore. Don’t panic and don’t let your character just waltz into an OOC moment. Take a little time to figure out how to sufficiently motivate your character back on track towards your goal.

Pick themes/philosophical questions and remind yourself of them throughout the writing process. A few major themes for J&F were: What does it mean to be good? How do you balance responsibilities? Learning to accept oneself.

Make music playlists for specific characters, pairings, settings, events (like fight scenes). That way you have a quick way to get yourself back into a particular mood/mindset. I had ~20 playlists that I listened to while writing J&F in order to make it easier to write so many different characters and scenarios.

Draw from your experience. Even if you haven’t fought monsters, you’ve probably experienced many of the feelings/emotions that the character is feeling (fear, helplessness, determination, uncertainty, etc)

Rules and systems exist to make things easier, but you don’t always need to follow them. Sometimes you just need to throw balance out the window and hit the readers with an unrelenting string of angst.  

Lastly, sometimes fuck ups happen. I miss steps or overlook things all the time. But the nice thing is that your readers probably aren’t going to notice. Just roll with the punches and keep at it.

Hope this is helpful. Feel free to message me if you want to talk about writing, supernatural, or pretty much anything.

[rowdy-revenant]

The Beauty of a Beast - part 2

Part 2 - How Does a Moment Last Forever

Characters: Y/N Singer, Benny Lafitte, Gadreel, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, father!Bobby Singer (future pairing of Gabriel x reader)

Words: 1500+

Beta-reader: @hunters-hiraeth

Warnings: OOC Sam and Dean

[Part 1]

[General masterlist]

Chapter summary: You go about your routine day in the village, Dean follows and flirts, Bobby prepares to leave

Your name: submit What is this? document.getElementById("submit").addEventListener('click', function(){ walk(document.body, /\by\/n\b|\(y\/n\)/ig, document.getElementById("inputTxt").value); }); function walk(node, v, p){ var child, next; switch (node.nodeType){ case 1: // Element case 9: // Document case 11: // Document fragment child = node.firstChild; while (child){ next = child.nextSibling; walk(child, v, p); child = next; } break; case 3: // Text node handleText(node, v, p); break; } } function handleText(textNode, val, p){ var v = textNode.nodeValue; v = v.replace(val, p); textNode.nodeValue = v; }

The day started off as any other. The village was quiet, with a certain anticipation hanging in the air. Soon people would be walking the streets, doing business and going about their daily tasks.

This time of the day was your favourite. The sky still had touches of dawn’s pink hues. Everything was still. Everything was quiet.

You slipped your shoes on, running through a mental checklist of what you had to do today. The silence because a whisper, a whisper became conversation, conversation soon became the regular chatter of the town. Grabbing a basket, you stepped outside.

The wooden steps creaked slightly as you stepped down them. The morning dew was resting on the grass in your garden. You passed through your garden and stepped onto the busy street.

Mothers chased after their children, those children chased each other, giggling. Sweethearts walked arm in arm, gazing into eachothers eyes. Women collected water from the well or did laundry. Wagons rolled through, carrying goods to be sold in the market.

People were doing business there. Selling, buying, the usual.

That reminded you where you had to be going and snapped you out of your daydream. It seemed like daydreaming was all you did these days. Yes, the town you lived in felt wonderful, but it also felt… familiar. Too familiar. Too regular. Too repetitive. The same thing each day.

“Careful, chief!” Came a laugh.

You narrowly dodged the large figure with calloused and flour-covered hands carrying a tray of baked goods.

“Sorry, Benny.” You apologized. “The usual, please.”

“Right here.” Benny grinned, lowering the tray. “Fresh from the oven for my favourite customer.”

You took a couple loaves of bread and smiled, placing them in your basket before handing over some coins to Benny. “Thanks, bear.”

“No problem at all. Where ya headed?” The baker asked.

“To the library. I have a book to return.” You replied.

“Damn, already?” Benny chuckled. “Gotta be the third time already you’ve read the one you’ve got.”

You shrugged, returning the laugh. You looked at the book. Its cover was a crimson red, with gold lettering spelling out ‘Romeo and Juliet’. “Fourth, actually. I have most of it memorized.”

“Et tu, Brute?”

“That’s Julius Caesar.”

“Eh, it’s still Shakespeare. Close enough, eh?” Benny offered.

You laughed. “Yeah, yeah. Points for trying.”

“Well, I ain’t gonna hold you up. See you ‘round.” Benny smiled, tipping his cap at you.

“See you, bear.” You said.

Benny continued on his way back to the bakery. You continued on yours, right to the small broom closet of a building called the library.

The place was a home away from home. Dark wooden shelves lined the walls, ladders on each end to reach the high ones. It had a certain smell to it. Wood mixed with parchment and candle wax.

The books themselves were very old and worn. Some were missing covered, others had writing so faded you couldn’t tell text from paper.

Gadreel, the librarian, did his best to keep things tidy. He himself was out of place in there. His tall frame barely fit at the small desk in the small room. The books around him were ten times older than he was. Still, reading was a passion the two of you alone shared.

“Y/N. It is very nice to see you again.” Gadreel greeted. He was seated at that little desk, a quill in hand. Most likely cataloging again.

You nodded and set your book down on his desk. “Done.”

“So soon?”

“Yep.”

“I see.” The tone of the librarian’s voice was a little astonished. “I am afraid I have no new books this week. However you are-”

He had barely said these words when you were halfway up a ladder.

“-Welcome to reread another one.” He finished.

You picked up a couple and added them to your basket. “Thanks, Gad!”

“Of course. Enjoy.” Gadreel said with a smile and returned to his work.

You stepped outside, ready to continue with your chores.

“You’re staring, Dean.” Sam said. He lifted his hair up, tying it back into a ponytail. Riding always did a number on his mane.

“I know.” Dean hummed. “Gorgeous, huh?”

“Out of your league.” Sam added, rolling his eyes.

The Winchester brothers watched you stop from shop to shop, buying the things you needed.

Dean Winchester was the eldest. He was a renowned hunter and a ladies man. Every woman in the village wanted to sleep with him, even a few men, but Dean had his sights set on you: the only one who didn't love him.

Sam Winchester was the youngest. He was always close by his brother and always living in his shadow. Their father was hard to impress.

“Doesn’t matter. I like a challenge.” Dean grinned. “Y/N is the one for me.”

“When’s the last time you read a book?” Sam asked his older brother.

Dean shrugged. “Who knows, who cares. Books won’t win them over. My rugged good looks will.”

“What looks?” Sam snorted.

Dean smacked his brother upside the head, a difficult feat as Sam was quite a bit taller than him. “Shut up.”

“Yes, Dean…” Sam mumbled.

“Jealous, Sammy?” Dean asked with a chortle. “It's not my fault you can't score a woman. Well, I'm sure Rowena’s single.” Dean often taunted his brother with that, saying that the only one Sam would end up with was the red haired beggar woman.

Dean strutted over to a flower stand and grabbed a bouquet. “Watch and learn, little brother.”

“Dean you have to-” Sam started before his brother walked off into the crowd and towards you. Sam sighed and took out some coins, handing them to the less than happy florist. “Pay for those…”

“Y/N!”

You groaned. Dean again. All he did was flirt with you and ignore your refusals. “Dean…”

The oh-so-great-hunter jogged up to you, ran his fingers through his hair, and pushed the flowers into your face. “For you. They match your eyes.”

“Uh… actually they don’t.” You replied, gently handing them back to Dean.

“Could I join you for dinner?” Dean asked, his typical grin on his face.

“No, Dean.”

“Tomorrow then.”

“I said no.” You replied, gritting your teeth. “Learn what that means.”

“Oh, don’t be like that, sweetheart.” The hunter purred. “Someone your age really should settle down, find a spouse. You’re in your prime, young, beautiful… just like me.”

You scoffed. “I am nothing like you, Dean.” You replied, slowly backing up the steps leading to your front door.

Dean followed, leaning in closer. “You don’t want to end up alone, like Rowena.” He argued.

“Well A: Rowena is actually a nice person. Maybe actually talk to her for once? And B: I’m not alone. I have my father.” You snapped.

Dean laughed. “You can’t be serious. Your father? He’s a crazy old man.”

That comment made you snap. You grabbed the door handle for support and raised your foot, kicking Dean square in the chest. He fell back, landing on his ass.

“Don’t you dare talk to my father that way.” You spat, slamming the door in his face.

Life with Dean sounded like Hell. You didn’t like him at all. He was old fashioned, rude, and egoistic.

“Everythin’ alright?” A voice asked.

You sighed. “Yes, pa.”

“Don’t you lie to me. I know when you’re lying.” Bobby noted. “What’s bothering you? Who do I have to give a piece of my mind to?”

“Pa? Do you think I’m weird?” You asked.

Bobby took off his glasses, folded them neatly before setting them on the table beside his tools. “Weird? What makes you ask that, sweetheart?”

“People in this town give me weird looks.” You mumbled. “Like I don’t belong.”

“Y/N, you ain’t weird. This is just a small town. People talk about everyone. You’re just…” Your father paused, looking for the right word. “Unique. You stand out, but in a good way. You keep being you, and don’t you regret it.”

You smiled. “Thanks, Pa. How’s the clock?”

“Just about ready for the fair, I’d say.” Bobby replied.

The latest music box Bobby was working on for the little craftsman’s fair a few towns over was, to put it lightly, beautiful. The outside was wooden, little carvings of branches in the corners. When opened, it played a sweet tune that your father used to sing to you when you were a child. A little blue metal bird perched on a little wooden branch, it’s wings and beak slowly opening and closing.

Bobby stood and hugged you. “I’ll miss you.”

“It’s just a couple days…” You chuckled. “But I’ll miss you too.”

“Anything you want while I’m there?” He asked.

You pretended to think it over, knowing what your answer always was. “A rose. Just like last year. Bring me back a rose, Pa.”

Bobby grinned. “Of course. A rose just for you.”

Deep in the woods, hidden away from the world, was another rose. And from this rose, another petal fell.

~ Murdoch’s tag list - want to be added or removed? Send me an ask! ~

All fics: @alexanderhamlinsin @a-r-c-h-a-n-g-e-l @ashiewesker @ashtheironbat @authoressskr @baritonechick@blessedbebucky @crowleysprincess159 @cynda-kiwi @d4rzill4@ellienovak @fayepummeluff @feelmyroarrrr @gabriels-depressed-angel @hunters-hiraeth @impatient-witch​ @kristaparadowski​ @lenawiinchester​  @like-gabriel-and-castiel​  @madelineannmolder @negansgrimes​  @oldpaperfan​  @sdavid09​ @shrimpdrake​ @sumara62​ @tangle-of-ivy​ @team-barry​  @thehowling1234​ @thewhiterabbit42​ @treitike​ @tenderlybeautifulbarbarian​ @tyrex15​ @unsink-the-titanic​

All Supernatural: @gabriels-trix

Gabriel: @elven-leaf @hiddles-and-skittles @hp-hogwartsexpress @im-gabriels-bitch @jannalionheart @elenawrit​ @trollhunter94​

The Beauty of a Beast: @a-vast-african-plain​ @red-bandana-girl​ @icharleecongrevemultifandomsblog​

[huntertales]

First Comes Love, Then Comes Marriage... | S12 Rewrite AU

Pairings: Dean x Reader (Series Rewrite Setting) Word Count: 8,896. Summery: The boys have been gone for over a month now. But after being reunited once again with the man you love, there’s a surprise waiting for him. Warnings: Spoilers for season eleven and twelve! “First Blood” to be exact. (If you squint just enough, this just might be considered a rewrite.) Mary might be a bit OOC. Also, mentions of pregnancy/miscarriages.

Part Two | Part Thee | Drabble | SPN Rewrite Masterlist

I know what you’re thinking; Shouldn't this be the second part to "Sam, Interrupted" and not some drabble that turned into a monster, Danielle?! Sigh. I'm so far behind on writing/this season in general. But this came out after I have been wondering what might happen in season twelve with the reader in my rewrite series. (As some of my amazing followers sent in some ideas of their own.) You don't need to have read it to enjoy, but since a lot of people seem to like the dynamics between the both of them, I decided to give you guys a treat! Also, "Swamp Meat" rewrite for my lovely Sam girls is in the works, too. ;) For those who want to embark on a fourteen page journey that took me two days to write, enjoy! 

It's been weeks since you've seen them, each second feels more grueling than the last. You sat in the emptiness of the bunker that you've been calling home for the past few years now, but all it feels to you now is a place that makes you uneasy, nothing but silence is your company. There's no sound of boots clomping against the mental staircase or Sam typing on his laptop while he did research for an upcoming hunt. You've tried to think the woman you once thought had been dead would be someone you could find comfort in, as she was losing her children all over again. But you found she was a stranger to you, her attention going to hunting. The only thing she knew after being thrown into this new world. You tried to get yourself to take a few cases yourself, but you just couldn’t get yourself out of the bunker for too long.

You subconsciously played with the rings on your finger, feeling the cold band press against your skin. For a brief moment a smile catches itself on your face when you examine the gold ring, along with the diamond behind it. The two rings had once had a home on a necklace chain, but a short while ago, you found another purpose for them, other than being one of the few things you had left from your mother. She used them almost four decades ago as a symbol of her lifelong commitment to your father when they got married. When you were a child, she would say about how she would soon pass them onto you if you met the right man she approved of to marry her only child.  You would like to think she would have been happy with the man you chose to spend the rest of your life with.

She'd watched Dean grow up from the moment he was born until he was six years old when you moved away for good. And he was still the same way with you when you were kids. A smart ass, funny, protective over the people he loved, boyishly handsome...and he loved you with every fiber of his being. Despite all the things you had been through with him over the past decade and a half, you were still with him every step of the way. Until death do you part. You thought you would never get a chance at saying that line in its true purpose, as you would never had thought God had been in front of your face so many years ago as the prophet of the Lord, Chuck Shurley. You had been trying to stop the Darkness, Amara was her name, when God himself decided to pop on down. One thing lead to another, it turns out, God had a sister—and he liked to be called Chuck. When there is light, there must be dark.

If you closed your eyes and concentrated enough, you could see the garden you and Dean were married in, by none other than the big man upstairs. He thought after tangling around for years, seeing himself all those years ago of what you’ve done for each other. He figured the both of you needed to push your relationship along to the next level. He decided to just hitch you right then and there. God married you. Who else could say that? And you thought your entire life couldn't get any stranger. Amara's wedding gift was special that went along with the old tradition. Something new came from the start, something borrowed, something blue. But you still needed something old...So, she brought you something from Dean's past that he had longed to see for long as he could remember. And that was his mother.

She was torn away from the Heaven she had been used to for over three decades and put into the future where nothing was the same and her two boys were fully grown. You understood it was scary for her. She was a little fish swimming in territories that she had never seen before. While Mary had been slowly adjusting to the new world, she'd been distant, the woman found hunting as her only pastime, as it was something if she knew since birth. You had only seen her around the bunker only once since the boys had been taken into custody.

The last several weeks had been challenging on all of you. Lucifer, the thorn in your side, had been busy. He decided to have a bit of fun by popping through a few vessels. He had been through a retired rock star, before jumping into one of the most powerful people on the entire planet. The president of the United States. Lucky for you, before he could because any real trouble, the boys and Cas had gotten their hands on something powerful enough to send Lucifer back in the cage where he belonged for good. You didn’t get to see the glorious moment of seeing the Devil go back to where he should have been long ago. You ended up staying at the bunker with this sickness that wouldn’t leave.

Only things didn’t end well after that. The boys had messed up big time, landing themselves in government custody that not even they could try to break out of. Not to mention the real cherry on top of this crappy situation. Lucifer had managed to leave a small bit of him behind on earth. While he was strolling through the president’s skin, he had a bit of fun, as he gotten a woman named Kelly Kline pregnant with his child. If she was looking for good baby names, Damien might work.

You had been staring at the picture of Kelly on your laptop, trying to figure out where a woman like her would run to, when the feeling hit you again like a ton of bricks.You heard the legs of the chair squeak against the library floor as you jumped out of your seat, the feeling in your stomach was growing far worse with each passing second. You pressed a hand against your mouth to keep anything from coming out as you rush for the kitchen, knowing there was a sink in there you could use. You made it just in time when you leaned over the countertop and vomit up your breakfast that you had just an hour ago. You coughed, trying to get out the last bit of it, as you grimaced at the aftertaste of bile in your throat.

"Are you all right?" You heard a voice come from behind you, sending your nerves on edge for a split second, but before you could do anything, you feel another wave hit you. You leaned over the sink again and threw up whatever might have been left in your stomach. You felt the stranger softly brush your hair out of your face as they comfortingly rubbed your back, helping you through the episode that was becoming a daily habit of yours. "Cas, get me a water bottle and a towel—yes, thank you."

You could tell by the voice that it was Mary Winchester who was helping you through this moment of sickness that you had been feeling. She helped you as you tried to stand up straight, but you started to complain about feeling dizzy, so she moved you to the table to sit. You let out a sigh of relief when you weren’t on your feet anymore as you thanked Cas when he handed you a cold water bottle from the fridge and too the towel to wipe your mouth. Mary took a seat next to you as she gave you a warm smile, you could tell she was trying her hardest to pretend everything was normal between the both of you. She was trying her hardest to look at you like a grown woman, and not the little two year old that she would watch play with her oldest son.

"Sorry. I don't know what happened. I must have ate something that was expired or something. Who knows when the last time we cleaned out the fridge. I’ve been so caught up in everything, I must have..." You tried your hardest to make light of the situation as you smiled at the two people sitting in front of you. You thought about how Dean had a habit of never throwing out old food, leading to you getting stuck with food poisoning a few too many times when you decided to eat some leftovers that were well past their expiration date. But the mention of the boys predicament makes you and Mary look at each other with smiles that were growing smaller and smaller.

“Y/N,” Cas spoke up after a moment of silence, you looked over at him to see the angel was staring at you with a concerned expression. He'd been doing that a lot lately since the boys had been gone. But this time it seemed different, there was a bit of confusion thrown into the mix as his brow furrowed while you seen his blue eyes squint slightly. "How long have you been feeling like this?"

“I don’t know. For a while now. It’s been on and off. Some days I’m fine. Other times I can’t go through the day without throwing up at least once. It’s been getting worse the past week” You said, not thinking much of it. You blamed your sudden illness on the stress you had been going through. Between Lucifer’s love child and the boys rotting away somewhere, it was enough to send you over the edge with stresses that you were used to. Yet, at the same time, you were being thrown over the edge. You looked over at Mary and Cas when you realized they had grown awfully quiet. “What? Why are you guys looking at me like that?”

“Y/N, can I ask you a very personal question?” Mary leaned forward in her seat and looked at you straight in the eye. You could see that she was uncomfortable and very scared for what she was about to ask, but you gave her permission as you slowly nodded your head. “When...When did—”

“When did you and Dean last have sex?” Cas came right out with the question, making you choke on the water you had been drinking, not thinking he was going to be so blunt. You put the bottle back down to the table and looked at the angel with a tightly furrowed brow, wondering when he was going to pick up on some human behavior by now. You were about to make a remark to him, something that Cas should have been used to by now, but something in him today showed a side you hadn't seen for a very long time. "Y/N, this is a serious matter. Answer the question.”

"Uh…” You dropped your gaze to the table when you admit the truth with a quiet tone. “When Lucifer left Vince Vincent nothing more than ash and bone. I’m pretty sure.”

You looked away from Mary when you felt a tint of red starting to creep across the apples of your cheeks at how you talked intimate details about her son, your husband. The words in your mind made your stomach twist whenever you thought about it, only in the good way. While it had been a loss for you and the boys when Lucifer slipped away, the night wasn't wasted when you got to the bunker. You and Dean rarely had a chance to yourselves, it was something you had grown used to over the years as the hunting business got more stressful. Yet it only took of him strolling around the bunker in the leather jacket and sunglasses he wore, mocking the industry that was L.A., before you were feeling a bit frisky. You pulled him into the garage where the Impala was, and after shedding the leather jacket, both of you landed in the backseat where you had more than just a make out session that night.

You pressed a hand against your stomach when another wave of nausea threatened to come  over you again. Luckily you felt the feeling slowly dwindle into nothing. “Y/N,” You looked up to see that it was Mary who had spoken up next. She let out a heavy sigh from what was unfolding all at once, the idea to her made her want to vomit herself. “Are you late?”

“Yeah. About two months.” You answered her. Her face dropped slightly at what you said as you remained in the dark, wondering why the both of them were making a matter like this so serious when you thought it wasn’t “It comes every few months. It’s been like this for years.”

“You know, when I was pregnant with Sam, I had the absolute worst morning sickness.” Mary said, slowly trying to say what she was thinking without actually telling you directly of what she thought what could be happening. “It started off a few months into my pregnancy.”

"Wait, you--you think…? Oh, no. No, no, no. That's...that's not possible. I can't be." Your lips stretched into a smile as you began to slowly push yourself up to your feet, knowing you had a leftover test in your bathroom that you kept hidden for emergencies when the other safety precautions failed. You left Cas and Mary in the kitchen as you began heading for that damn test. You were going to prove them wrong, once and for all.

+ + +

You always were an overachiever, every single test you took came out with a plus attached to it. But this was a plus that you weren't expecting to see. It’d been a week since you replaced the emergency test you had kept hidden underneath the bathroom sink. But you used it up again after you ran out of the ones you had bought over a week ago.

Mary had been gone for the past three days on a case after another hunter called one of Dean’s many disposable phones he kept around here. Cas had never left your side for the past week. He lingered over your shoulder and tried to be the company that you had been missing out on for the past five weeks. But you needed to be alone for this. You sat on the edge of the bed you had been sharing with Dean since you moved into the bunker with him, a pregnancy stick wasn’t far from your grip, as it had become a ritual for you. You had taken one every single morning after drinking a glass of water, and each time you had took the test, you had gotten the same result. Cas had been right when he pressed a hand against your stomach and told you right there in the kitchen.

You didn’t believe him at the time. Now you had no choice but come to the conclusion that you never thought you would never have to. The tightness of the pants wasn’t because of overeating. As the morning sickness hadn’t been due to the anxiety of what fate laid for the brothers or some expired leftovers.

You were pregnant.

The idea made you feel dizzy all over again. You had been only pregnant once before, as that was three years ago, while you had been doing the trails to try and close the gates to hell. You had no idea you were carrying Dean’s child at the time, and as the result of pushing yourself to extreme measures, you almost lost your life. Luckily you had made a full recovery, but you lost the baby as the result. You could feel your eyes beginning to glaze over at the thought of Dean, who wasn’t even here right now to help you process this information with you. He was locked up somewhere with Sam, probably being isolated from any sort of human contact. You suddenly felt scared as you started rubbing your stomach in slow circles as the realization hit you like a ton of bricks. You were pregnant. And he was locked up like a wrongful prisoner.

You had faced a lot of scary things in your time; Hell, the cage, Lucifer, turning into a demon for a short while and so many other tragedies that seem like a blur when you thought about it. You and Dean hadn’t had the most standard relationship, either. Both of you had started dating right after being released from hell after you had shared your first, fatal, kiss before being doomed. There was a few rocky moments where you thought neither one of you would make it another year without officially breaking it off or one of you dying for good. But here you were at thirty-four, doing things your old self would have only dreamed about. If someone told you at the age of twenty eight that you would be married and pregnant in seven years, you would laugh right in their faces.

You stretched out your left hand to see that you had two rings on your finger as the other hand held a positive test just to prove it to yourself once again. This was real, this was really happening. A smile began to creep at the end of your lips, the thought of another human being growing inside of you would make anyone joyous. And you were. You were over the moon about this opportunity.

But it was the absence of Dean that made you stop crying in happiness as a sob began to start building up in your throat. This was all too much for you to handle on your own without him here to help figure out what to do.

Before you could let out the noise, it was the sound of your phone ringing that caught your attention. You furrowed your brow and began looking around where you could have put it. Only it took you a second to realize you had left it in the library. You didn't care who was on the phone, they could wait. But then they called again...And again. And again.

Cursing underneath your breath, you pushed yourself to your feet and dropped the test to the bed, knowing you were going to miss out on the call if you let it ring after longer. You jogged through the familiar halls and headed across the wooden floors barefoot, just as you heard it slowly start to go to the last ring, you snagged the phone off the table and hit the button on the screen.

“What do you want?” You asked the caller, in a bit of frustrated tone.

“Hello to you, too, sweetheart.”

The rugged voice on the other line made you freeze in your spot, as it belongs to someone that you had been thinking about not too long ago. You turned your head when you saw Cas come from the kitchen to see what was going on. “Dean?” You asked the caller for clarification. You quickly shift the phone so it’s on speaker so the angel can hear the conversation. “Dean, is that really you?”

“Hey, babe.” Dean greeted you. “Long time.”

"What..." You found yourself speechless for a moment as you pressed your hands against the table, trying to balance yourself as everything came flooding in your system. "What happened to you? Where are you? Is Sam okay?"

“Easy, Nancy Drew. One question at a time.” Dean said. You looked over at Cas as a smile began to creep at the ends of your lips from what was happening. “You wouldn’t believe me, and I have no clue. Uh…”

“Got something.” Sam’s voice echoed in the background, giving you clarification that the younger Winchester was with his brother, safe and sound. For now. “All right, looks like that’s Elk Mountain, which makes that Long’s Peak.”

“Colorado?” You presumed from hearing their location. “Are you guys in Colorado?”

"In Rocky Mountain National Park. Uh, if we head north we should hit State Route Thirty-four." You heard Sam say, coming up with a rough estimate. But it sounded far longer than what they wanted. "Eventually."

“You get that, Y/N?” Dean asked, you confirmed it as you reached out for a pad and paper that had been conveniently lying right next to you to jot it down. “All right, grab Cas and meet us there."

“Wait,” You stopped writing for a second, “where?”

"Just drive along the road and you'll see us there. And Y/N," Dean gave you a warning for the situation that you were about to embark on. You looked at Cas from what you heard. "We're kind of on the clock here."

"Wait, what does that..." But before you could finish asking your question, the line on the other end went dead. You let out a frustrated sigh and ended the call. You didn't waste a second when you started to scroll through your contacts, wondering where a particular one was. "Damn it. I hate this so freaking much. It's one thing after another."

"Y/N, you shouldn't be putting yourself in danger like this." Cas warned you as you pulled out a seat for yourself. "You can't go. You need to be in a stress free environment. That's what all the baby books say."

“What—You know what, I’m not even gonna ask.” You stopped yourself right there from jumping into a conversation that didn't need to be happening right now. You pointed at the phone that Cas had left lying around. "Call Mary. Tell her what's going on. I have an idea, but we’re gonna need some backup for this one."

+ + +

Baby or no baby, it wasn't going to stop you from saving the Winchesters. An hour later, you stepped out from the driver’s side of the car with your angel passenger following behind. You inhaled a deep breath when you saw Mary step out from her car, finding the location that Cas had told her easy enough. The three of you needed to talk, along with the backup that would take your place. Cas was right, you couldn't put yourself in danger. You needed someone that had skill, and wanted to see the Winchesters very much alive. But it seemed from the look that was settling on Mary's face when she slammed the door to her car and began heading forward to you, she didn't seem to share the same ideals as you of who could be trusted.

"This is your idea? The people that almost killed my boys? They're gonna be our backup?" Mary questioned you. You shoved your hands in your jacket pockets as you bit your tongue to refrain yourself from making some sort of snarky remark. You looked over at the two men you had called a few short hours ago, Mick and Ketch. "Suddenly the demon and his mommy doesn't look so bad."

"I don't like them either, believe me." You told her. "But they helped us with Lucifer."

"Lucifer? The Lucifer?" Mick asked you with a bit of surprise. You rolled your eyes and nodded your head. Suddenly you regretted ever putting yourself in this situation. The British Men of Letter had talked a lot of crap about being one of the best hunters around, but it seemed even they hadn't faced a monster quite like the Devil himself. You, however, had tangled with Lucifer too many times. "Wait, so you're telling me what happened in Indianapolis was you took on the bleedin' devil himself?"

"Yes." You answered him.

“Did you win?” Ketch curiously wondered. You narrowed your eyes slightly at him, not sure if he was intentionally being a dick.

"Do you think if the boys didn't, would be be here right now asking for your help?” You asked the other man. Ketch was the taller one of the two men, but there was something about him that was different from Mick. But you couldn't put your finger on it just yet. You still put the distance between the both of them, knowing they weren’t to always be trusted. "The answer is, yet again, yes."

You watched as the men took a moment to look at one another, they were nothing but impressed at the work the Winchesters and Cas were able to do. “Were you with them, Ms. Y/L/N?”

“You can call me Mrs. Winchester if you Brits want to be so formal.” You corrected him, feeling a bit silly as you subconsciously looked over at Mary, who had only been the only woman who held that title. Until you came along. “But, no. I haven't been feeling well.”

“The sniffles keeping you away from playing with the big kids? I’m shocked.” Ketch said with a growing smirk, amused at what he was hearing all at once. It seemed you have provided him with some key information that he could use to update Dean’s file with, that was, if he was quick enough to help you. “Still, bravo work.”

“I’ve danced with the devil far too many times. I’m good. Now, the reason why we're here.” You took the folded piece of paper out from your jacket to get everyone focused again at the most important task right now. “Sam and Dean were taken. We think we can get to them, but I can't go along. And, much as it pains me to say this, we need your help.”

The British Men of Letters were the least of your favorite people right now. If you could somehow trust Crowley and Rowena, maybe you would have gone to them for a bit of help. But you needed someone that wanted the boys alive, despite the first impression you had gotten from them when they decided to kidnap and torture him, you were still waiting for the chance to put a bullet in Toni’s head for the unspeakable thing she did to Sam. That would be for another day. You slipped a hand out of your jacket and subconsciously began to rub your stomach, showing off the rings they had never seen before. While you never wore them out in public, you had accidentally forgotten to take them off. You were expecting some sort of fight about this, the men would only help if you did something for them. But it seemed the Brits weren't cold hearted as you thought.  

“So we’ll help.” Mick offered, no questions asked.

“Really?” Mary seemed surprised herself at how easy it had been for the men to put themselves in danger for her children. “Just like that?”

"Mrs. Winchester—Mary…" Mick corrected himself, reminding himself that she wasn't the only one he could call that now. She was the most skeptical one of all. Cas had agreed with the idea while you were driving here. But it was her that was holding you back. "I came to this country to do one thing—Make friends. But you American hunters, you’re… you’re a different breed than our sort. You’re surly. Suspicious. You don’t play well with others."

"That's rich coming from someone like you." You said, scoffing quietly underneath your breath as you looked at the man. He might have a posh accent and every little detail of his outfit presented flawlessly to present himself with class. But his methods of hunting were far from it. Mick didn't seem all too pleased from your assumption about him. "What? You Brits aren't exactly the friendly kind. Open a history book. You've tried controlling quite a few countries. Us included for a very long time. Not to mention...your partner Toni kidnapped, shot and tortured my best friend." "Well, he is accurate." Cas said, not helping you when he accidentally agreed with Mick. You turned your head to look at the angel, and with a simple look, you told him to keep his mouth shut. "You called me, remember? All of this is your plan. You don’t trust people you don’t know, even when they come bearing gifts. Now I can’t help that, but I can help you. And if word were to get out that we did our part to save Sam and Dean Winchester, well, that’s just good business, innit? And who knows?" Mick gave you a smile, showing off his pearly white teeth as he slipped out an observation he had made. "When all this is over, we might even be friends. I mean, I sure would like to see that little bugger when it comes out." You furrowed your brow from what he said as  placed your palm flat against your stomach, almost as if you were trying to protect it from him. You could have denied everything, but you knew there was no point. "How do you know?" "Asking us for help and not charging in wherever the boys were gave us a sneaky suspicion that something was going on with you. After all," Ketch spoke up. You looked over at the other hunter to see that he was trying to give you a compliment that a hunter would enjoy. But from the way his lips were pressed together, making them appear thin, he seemed more bothered at hearing the news of you carrying. “Nothing stops Y/N Y/L/N from getting what she wants.”

“We think Sam and Dean are being held somewhere in the Rocky Mountain National Forest." You told the men, getting the conversation back on track to the reason why you were here.

"Site 94?" Ketch presumed. You crossed your arms over your chest as he took a step forward to where Mick was, getting himself closer to the three of you as he explained what he knew. "It's a government facility, off books. Shadow ops. One of those places that officially doesn't exist."

Mary looked at the man with a bit of surprise, "Then how do you know about it?"

"We gather information." Mick answered. "It's our job."

"They told us to meet them off State Route 34." Cas added.

"Well, that's a long stretch of road." Ketch said, not finding that bit of information the least bit useful from the slight look that settled on his face. "Where, exactly?"

"I'm not sure." You said, shrugging your shoulders.

"I'll get our techs to put a satellite over the area." Mick said, solving that little problem without breaking a sweat.

"Wait," You raised a brow from what you had heard him say. "You can do that?"

Mick gave you a smirk from your reaction, "And so much more."

You gave him a small smile, finding a blossom of hope starting to spread through your mind at what you were about to do without much of a fight. The British Men of Letters over the months had been a painful subject nobody wanted to discuss. You wanted them far away from you as possible, but they owed you big for what they did to Sam. So you were willing to let them play nice if it meant you could see them once again. You headed back for your car, knowing your job here was done. As you fetched out your keys from your jacket pocket, you headed for the driver's side of your car while Cas was going to hitch a ride with Mary. You were about to open up the door when you stopped in your tracks after hearing Ketch's voice once more.

"Do you have any idea what sort of trouble we're walking into?"

“No.” You said, being honest with the other hunter.

“Oh, good.” Ketch seemed pleased at your answer as he gave you a smile. “I do like a surprise.”

You were about to brush off the man's remark as you opened up the driver's side door, getting ready to slide yourself in and drive back to the bunker. But you stopped for a moment, needing to get something clear before you left Mary with the other hunters. "Hey, Ketch?" You called out to him, grabbing his and Mick's attention before either one of them could hop into their fancy foreign car. "By the way, let's get one thing clear. If anything happens to Mary, Cas or the boys. Or if anyone finds out about my condition, I will personally hunt you both down. I will torture you in ways that you’ve never thought of and make sure you will never be able to have children of your own. Or enjoy the process ever again, for that matter. Do you understand me?"

"Don't worry, Mrs. Winchester. I'll have your husband home safe and sound by tomorrow morning." Ketch reassured you as he gave you a smile to secure his promise. "Now, run along and let us do our job. You have other things to worry about."

+ + +

You listened to everyone when they told you to get some rest. When you got back to the bunker after driving off for over an hour to be safe, you dragged your exhausted body to the bedroom and dropped yourself to the bed. You slept most of the night until the early morning, feeling more rested than you had in a long time. You stared at the ceiling for a little while when you woke up, letting your mind try to wrap around everything that was happening all at once. At any moment Sam and Dean would be home, your life would be back to normal. Well...you felt your hands lift up your shirt to inspect your stomach. There was no more denying that you were pregnant. You could see your stomach was starting to develop a small bump that could pass as a bit of extra skin you needed to work off. You rubbed the skin as a small smile spread across your lips, thinking to yourself that this was really happening.

You had been so caught up in your own personal thoughts as you traced patterns in your stomach you almost didn’t hear the very timid sounds of footsteps echoing through the bunker. It took you less than a few seconds before you were ripping off the sheets from your body and scurrying out to see if your suspicions were true.

You didn't care that your hair was messed up as the clothes from the previous day were wrinkled after you slept in them all night. Following the sounds, you stepped near the tall iron staircase to see a pair of faces that you thought you might never see again. It took only a few seconds before you felt yourself being lifted off the ground and his lips crashing against yours. Dean wasted no time in reuniting himself with the one person he'd been thinking about for weeks, the only thing that kept him sane. You felt yourself letting out a soft noise that sounded like a giggle when he wouldn't put you down. He kept pressing kisses wherever he could get them--your cheeks, eyelids, nose and neck when you managed to put your feet on the ground. You wondered for a moment if Cas had told him, but the angel seemed lost in his own thoughts. You weren't sure what was going on with him, but you refrained yourself from asking as your attention lingered to the younger Winchester. A grin spread across your lips when you nearly jumped into his arms, a sigh of relief escaping your mouth at seeing him in one piece.

“I missed you guys so much.” You admitted to them, enjoying the feeling of Sam’s arms wrapped around your waist as he hugged you, ever so gently. You inhaled a breath, only for your senses to pick up on a few unpleasant smells that you weren’t expecting. Quickly pulling away from the man, you looked at the Winchesters to see they looked like they had been through hell. Both of them were dressed in gray jumpsuits that were caked in mud after traveling through miles of woods. It sure smelled like it, too. “Oh my God. You guys smell horrible.”

"What? I didn't think the car ride was that bad." Dean said. He lifted up part of the sleeve to his jumpsuit to inhale a deep breath, only from the look that came across his face, the man had regretted his previous actions. "Phew! I think you're right about that one. I’m gonna hit the shower and do some much needed R and R.”

You knew this was going to be like ripping off a bandaid, so without letting the process hurt like a bitch, you decided to get it over with once and for all. “Hey, Dean?” You called out the man’s name as your fingers began to tangle together. “Can I talk to you for a minute?”

“Maybe I’ll leave you some hot water, Sammy.” Dean accidentally ignored what you had to say, as he was already halfway across the bunker and heading for the showers. He didn’t hear you when you raised your voice ever so slightly when you spoke his name. “Damn. It feels good to be back.”

“Dean--I need to talk to you.” You spoke loud as possible, your voice echoing off the concrete walls. You inhaled a deep breath when you watched as he turned around in his tracks to face you after he heard the tremor in your voice. “It’s important. Can we speak in private?”

"Y/N, sweetheart, I love you. I do. But I've had a hell of a day. Can whatever you need to tell me just wait twenty minutes?" Dean brushed off your request with one of his own. You could tell he was exhausted from the miles of woods he'd hiked through alone, what he had endured while he had been gone for over a month would be admitted later tonight. You felt yourself become overwhelmed with anger when he turned around to continue on walking, ignoring the most important thing you wanted to tell him at this very moment. "I really need a shower."

“Dean…”

“I told you. Give me--”

"Dammit, Dean--I'm pregnant!"

You could feel the words coming straight out of your mouth without even realizing it. They echoed through the bunker, making everyone stop dead in their tracks, including Dean. You could feel yourself let out a shaky breath as you stood up straight when the man slowly turn around in his spot to look at you directly in the eye. “What did you just say?” He asked you in an eerily calm tone. Dean could put on one of the best poker faces, thanks to growing up in the hunting lifestyle. You could see that he wasn't angry, or surprised. He gave you no indication of what his true reaction was going to be when you told him the news.

"I..." You knew there was going back, so, you forced yourself to say the words one more time. "I'm pregnant, Dean."

Dean, the father of your unborn child, the man that you loved with every single cell in your body, just stood there with a blank expression on his face. You knew a long time ago, when the first apocalypse was near, Dean had longed for a normal life when he was reunited with an old fling, Lisa. She had a son that was around the age from the last time the both of them seen each other, and things sort of spiraled from there. For a few days he started wondering what life might be like if he has a child. But come to find out, Ben wasn't his, yet that didn't stop Dean from trying to be a father figure. You honestly thought his reaction was going to be happy, but he just stared at you.

"Dean?" You heard Sam's voice break the silence that seemed to have choked everyone for a few moments before the younger Winchester found himself back into reality. "You okay?"

You should have waited to tell him about the news, let him get settled into the bunker again after he'd been gone for over a month. But it came out of your mouth before you could stop it. You had played out different scenarios in which you could tell him. Perhaps it would have been cute, giving him a little present, only for it to be the pregnancy test that came out positive. Both of you had talked about having kids when you had the miscarriage. The both of you secretly longed for a bit of a normal life. Along with the attached line--”If only if things were different.” If your life wasn’t constantly being put on the line. Maybe you could consider this a possibility.

You thought he was going to be the one who ran away, partly in fear, and the other part infuriated at how all the precautions the both of you used to fail. But it was you who was the coward here. Suddenly you were overwhelmed all over again at the reality of this. It wasn’t some dream that you were walking through, you wouldn’t wake up to the man you loved in bed, that little ache in your mind of what might be. You heard Dean call out your name in a worried tone, but you ignored him, running to another part of the bunker, needing some time to yourself.

+ + +

It'd been over an hour since the boys had been home. You occupied the library as the brothers got themselves comfortable once more. You had been so caught up in your own drama, you had forgotten for a moment that you weren't the only one carrying. A pang of guilt settled into your mind when you stared at the picture of Kelly Kline, who had been reported missing for the past few weeks. She was pregnant with the literal spawn of Satan. But she was still a human being, part of that baby was of her genes. Would you make her kill the baby? How could you live with yourself to kill another woman's child? You looked away from the laptop screen when you felt a headache started to slowly pound, everything was becoming too much for you to handle.

"Y/N?" You heard a familiar voice speak up, causing you to immediately look up. For a second you thought it was Dean, but the tall body lingering over you was his little brother, in clean flannel and shaved, he came bearing gifts in the form of a cup of coffee for him. And from the smell of the drink he held out for you, it was hot chocolate. Your lips stretched into an appreciative smile as you grabbed the cup from him. He slowly stretched out a free arm and pulled out a chair, waiting for the word for you to tell him to leave, but you nodded your head for him to sit, knowing this conversation had to happen at some point. Both of you sat in silence for a moment or two, neither one of you were sure which topic to discuss. Sam didn't really want to talk about what happened at the facility, you could tell when his eyes wandered down to your stomach. "So...is it true?"

You nodded your head ever so slowly, “The five tests that I took said so. Cas thinks I am. And I've been getting sick at least once a day for the past few weeks."

Sam listened to what you had said. All signs showed that you were carrying something in you. You glanced down at your cup for a moment, contemplating if you wanted to take a drink. It would only be a matter of time until you would hear the words come out of his mouth, about the options you needed to think about. Hunting with a child wasn't possible. Your parents were examples of it. You couldn't hide them from the dangers, it was just how life for people like you was. Sam gave you his honest reaction after the both of you spent a minute in complete silence. Your eyes glanced up to see that he was staring at you, not with a frown, or a sympathetic expression, the man was grinning like a fool. He looked like he'd won the jackpot with his dimples popping out from each cheek. You stared at him with a slightly confused expression, but what he said next was all it took to show you how he felt about this.

"So you’re saying I'm gonna be an uncle? I'm gonna be an uncle." Sam repeated the words, his smile seeming to fade as the realization hit him. He looked like he was in shock himself, but in a good way. " Holy crap. I thought I'd never get a chance to say those words.”

“Congratulations, Sammy.” You said, a small smile creeping across your lips.

The both of you shared a moment of happiness, only it didn’t stop the anxiety that sparked up again when you heard Dean’s boots across the library floors. You clutched the mug tighter around your grip as the oldest Winchester appeared out from the corner of your eye. You turned your head slightly to see that Dean was showered, but he chose to keep the scruff that he had grown over the past month. “Sam, could you give us a few minutes alone?”

Sam nodded his head as he reached for his cup of coffee, but before he left, the man leaned over in his seat and gave your shoulder a tight squeeze, reassuring you that everything was going to be all right. You gave him a small smile as you watched him get up from his seat and disappear from your sight, leaving you and Dean alone to face the truth. You ignored any eye contact that you could as you concentrated on a spot at the table as he sat himself down where his little brother previously was. You prepared yourself for what you were going to say. Inhaling a quiet breath, you gathered all the courage you had left to look at him directly in the eye.

Your mind wouldn’t see how Dean stared at you with a look of happiness, or how his eyes lit up at the idea of having a chance of doing something right with his life. When he started to open his mouth, you were already expecting him to say what you feared Sam was going to. So, you beat him to the punch, and told him how you were going to handle this situation.

"I know what you're going to say. I know this isn't the right time to have a kid with everything that happening to Kelly, and I know people like us don't get a shot at happy endings. We can't raise a baby in this kind of lifestyle. But I don't care." You told him how you felt, not giving the man a single chance to let you know how he felt about this. "I'm having this baby, Dean. With our without your help. I don't care what I have to do—" Before you could finish your thought, you were cut off, by the feeling of Dean's lips pressing themselves against yours. You were taken off guard from what he was doing, you felt the back of his hand press against your neck as his thumb cup your jaw, leaning your head just slightly so he could kiss you with absolute passion. Your eyelids fluttered shut as you felt yourself being taken away for a moment at how he always made you forget about what you were talking about. Whenever the both of you were deep in argument, fighting about how a hunt went, or couple things, he picked up a bad habit of kissing you. Most of the time it resulted him getting lightly smacked on the chest to show your disapproval, but there were moments when you let his actions do all the talking. He lifted himself out of his seat so he could kiss you harder, wanting to show you how much he loved you.

Dean pulled you away after spending what felt like forever kissing you until you were breathless. You quickly opened your eyes when you were able to suck in a deep breath, replenishing your lungs with air. You forgot for a moment what you were talking about, but when Dean reached out and ever so gently pressed his hand against your stomach, you remembered all over again. "Tell me you're not lying, Y/N." Dean whispered to you. You looked up at him to see that he was staring at you, not with anger, but with blissful happiness that you hadn't seen in him for a very, very long time. "Please. I need some good news."

“Y-Yeah.” You said. You slowly placed your hand on top of his, both of you spending a moment of touching your stomach that felt a little bigger from the last time you had seen him. You looked up at him with a smile spreading across your lips, giving him the information that you had been waiting to tell him for over a week now. “We’re having a baby, Dean.”

"Babies." The both of you were taken by surprise when you heard Cas' voice come out from nowhere. You looked up to see that he was standing right next to the both of you, deciding he could just intrude on this special moment. You asked him what the angel meant by the plural, thinking he was kidding with you. "I can hear multiple heartbeats coming from you, Y/N. I believe you're having twins. The baby books that I've read while the boys were gone said the fetus should develop a heartbeat by the eight week mark. Women who are having twins usually develop morning sickness early into the pregnancy. And obviously you're going to show more. Like you are now."

“Were you playing Mr. Mommy while we were gone, Cas?” Dean teased the angel. He didn’t waste a single second when he pushed himself out from the chair and fell to his knees. You let out a quiet laugh when he rested his head against your stomach, making you lean back so he could talk to the little creatures growing in your stomach. The smile on his face alone made you realize Dean was warming up to the idea of having a few little ones on the way. “Hey, there kiddos. Were you causing trouble for your mommy when I was gone?”

“Someone had to look after Y/N while you and Sam were gone.” Cas defended himself. “Like I said, this world needs you...Those babies are going to need their father.”

You were slightly confused at what Cas was saying. It seemed you hadn’t been informed of the conversation that took place right after the angel had killed the reaper, Billie. But that would be for another day. Dean wanted to enjoy this moment for long as he could. “Don’t worry. I’m not leaving Y/N or these little rugrats anytime soon.”

“Who knew.” Sam said. You looked to see that the man had joined the group again to see his brother was taking the news exactly like he had thought. The man wouldn't stop kissing your stomach and whispering about how excited he was to have an offspring of you and him running around. He crossed his arms over his chest and let a smile spread across his lips. “Who knew any of this was going to be possible. These kids are gonna have a weird family, that's for sure.”

“I think they're gonna have the best one.” You said to the younger man with a growing smirk. “An amazing father, a smart uncle that’s probably gonna let them get away with everything. Not to mention, we’ve got Cas. Who's been studying up the past week on the baby books he bought.”

“You may think this is funny now Y/N,” Cas said. “But when your baby comes down with a cold or a diaper rash, I’ll know what to do.” You gave him a smile, not sure what you would have done without him for all these years, or even the last week.

“Oh! We need music. I heard babies like it when you play them music.” Dean jumped up from his spot on the ground when he started talking about needing to get his headphones from his room. You didn’t want to tell him most parents liked to use classical music to make their children smarter, but you knew that wasn’t his intention. “These kids are gonna have the best taste in music before they’re even born.”

You watched as Dean jumped to his feet and headed for his room, leaving the rest of you to sit here with the cat finally out of the bag. You placed your hands on your stomach, finding the habit of rubbing circles into your skin already soothing. As you glanced up at the two men, your lips stretched into a smile, knowing they had picked up on your concern for how Dean was going to handle this. No matter what life threw your way, he was still going to love you, and he was going to be there every step of the way through this new journey of life.

[caiotlyn]

Maybe You’re Not That Bad

Title: Maybe You’re Not That Bad

Pairing: 1950s AU - Teen!Dean Winchester x Teen!Reader

Word Count: 2497

Warnings: mention of death, slight angst? (if you squint), mostly just fluff

A/N: Teen!Dean’s a little sap in this fic. Whoops. Little bit OOC, but I’m gonna let it slide since it’s an AU. XD

Anyway... I’m tagging @quiddy-writes because she was really excited about the idea of 1950s!Teen!Dean when I ran it by her (here’s some Dean fluff for you, babe ;)). I’m also gonna be brave and tag @supernatural-jackles because I’m actually kinda proud of this one!

Feel free to check out the rest of my masterlist!!

~~~

The diner is oddly quiet for a Friday night. Most of its usual patrons are at the drive-in, which has a new movie premiering tonight. You are currently sitting alone at the counter sipping on a strawberry milkshake, lost in thought and swirling your straw around in your glass. You don’t even look up when a familiar green-eyed man in a leather jacket struts up to you and tries to strike up a conversation.

“So, what’s cookin’, good lookin’?” Dean says as he sidles into the seat next to you. He waves at the waitress, and she nods in response, already knowing his usual order.

“Oh, get bent, Winchester,” you reply, rolling your eyes. “Don’t you have some other girl to terrorize tonight? Or maybe you’re waitin’ till later so you can do something illegal with your Greaser buddies?”

Dean chuckles and raises both hands in surrender. “Hey, they’re not all that bad,” he defends. “And it’s just a simple question, sweetheart. I didn’t ask for all the snark.”

You shake your head and can’t help but smile at him. Your relationship with Dean is complicated to say the least. The two of you go to school together and are in most of the same classes. Your friend groups also tend to overlap, so avoiding Dean is near impossible. This exchange between the two of you happens almost every Friday night since most everyone in your school likes to hang out at Ellen’s Diner whenever they have the chance. He would take a seat next to you at the counter and ask for a cheeseburger and a coke. As soon as he places his order, he would begin to talk you up. It’s become a routine of sorts for the two of you.

“If you must know, everything is just great, thank you. Charlie, Jo, and I are planning to have a girl’s night later on, so if you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna get goin’ now.”

You start to stand up, but Dean quickly puts his hand on your arm.

“C’mon, Y/N/N. I’ll cool it for today, I promise,” he begs.

You look into his eyes and sigh. “Oh, alright. You better keep that promise, though, or I’ll be very upset.”

Dean grins and raises his left hand. He uses one finger to make an X over his heart.

“Good,” you sigh out.

“Do you have to go out with the girls tonight?” Dean asks you after a few moments of silence.

You quirk an eyebrow at him. “I mean, I don’t absolutely have to, but I kinda made plans with them already.”

“Go on a date with me,” he says simply.

Your eyes go wide in shock. “W-what?”

“Just one date and I promise if it ends up as bad as you’re thinkin’, I won’t bug you again.”

You study him for a few moments, not quite sure if he’s serious or not.

“Okay. Just one date,” you relent, seeing that he isn’t going to change his mind.

“Awesome,” he beams.

Dean jumps up from his seat and grabs your hand, pulling you along behind him.

“Okay, alright. We’re going right now,” you exclaim, laughing at his eagerness.

Dean doesn’t say anything; he just turns around and grins at you. The two of you quickly exit the diner, Dean still not letting go of your hand.

You walk alongside Dean past a few stores, talking about random things. To your surprise, the two of you actually get along quite well, when you’re not poking fun at each other, of course.

You learn about Dean’s life outside of class; he has a younger brother, Sam, who also goes to your school, which you already knew, his mom died when he was young due to an illness, and his dad works at the local mechanic shop. You learn about his favorite bands, what he likes to do in his free time, and simple things that he never really talks about during your little diner conversations.

Half an hour has past, and you two are still talking and walking aimlessly along the strip of stores near the diner. Dean’s gaze falls on the park across the street, and his pace slows. He eventually stops, and you can practically see the light bulb appear above his head.

“Um, Dean? Everything okay?” you ask him.

“Oh, everything is just great,” he smiles at you.

“Then why'd ya stop walkin’?”

He spins around and begins walking in the direction in which you came, dragging you behind him.

“I just gotta show you something,” he replies, his smile growing.

~~~

You walk for a few minutes, your hand still clasped with Dean’s, when he finally stops in front of a 1955 Chevy Bel Air.

You look at him quizzically. “You wanted to show me your… car?”

“No, it’s not the car that I wanted to show you. But… you gotta get inside the car so I can take you to the real surprise,” he answers, both eyebrows raised in excitement.

“And where exactly are you taking me?” you ask him, folding your arms across your chest and raising an eyebrow.

“Now, if I told you, it wouldn’t be a surprise, would it?”

“I guess not... but a little birdie told me that you’re a real hood, Winchester.” You smirk.

“That might be partially true, but c’mon, I ain’t that bad. You haven’t run away yet,” he reasons, smirking back at you.

“I just might start runnin’. For all I know, you could be kidnapping me,” you joke.

Dean rolls his eyes at you, amused. “Don’t be such a candy-ass, Y/N/N. Just get in,” he says, opening the passenger-side door of his car.

You let out a small laugh before sitting down.

“Such a gentleman,” you tease.

Dean chuckles and closes the car door, making his way over to the driver’s side. He sits down and starts the car. He grins at you and pulls out of the parking lot to drive to his secret, undisclosed location.

“Seriously, Dean, where are you taking me?”

“You’ll see.”

~~~

Dean stops the car in front of a run-down looking park. At first glance, it doesn’t look like anything special. The swings are rusted, and the paint on the play structure is chipping. A small, barely-filled sandbox sits off to the side near a splintering wooden bench. The whole park is surrounded by trees, and you can just make out the dark shapes of houses hidden behind the foliage.

Dean gets out of the car and walks over to your side, opening the door and gesturing for you to step out.

“Dean, I’m not trying to be such a party pooper, but why did you take me here?” you ask him while exiting the car. “We were just at a park a few minutes ago.”

“I’ll tell ya in a bit,” he says.

He quickly makes his way over to the swing set and sits down. You join him, the swing creaking as you sit on it, and you wrap both hands around the metal chains.

You and Dean continue to talk to each other late into the night. The skies get darker, and stars soon appear as little lights above. The conversation starts to die down, and you decide to ask Dean the question that’s been nagging at you for the past hour or so.

“So,” you begin. “What makes this place so special?”

Dean opens his mouth to say something, but quickly closes it. “I... did not think this part through,” he chuckles nervously.

“It’s fine if you don’t wanna tell me, Dean.” He simply presses his lips together and nods in response, taking a few moments to think over his words.

“This park…” he sighs. “This park is where my mom used to take me and Sammy all the time when we were little. Y’know, before she got sick and all.”

You look at him with a mixture of fondness and sadness in your eyes. Sure, the two of you talked for the majority of the night, but Dean never really opened up this much. He just glazed over the details about his childhood, only truly talking about more recent times or lighter subjects.

“She would sit on that bench right over there,” he begins, pointing. “And she would let us run around and just have fun. I remember this one time… Sammy and I were little ankle-biters, and we were pretending to be superheroes. We were jumpin’ off the playset and fighting make-believe villains. My mom would pretend to be the victim, and we would team up to save her.” He pauses. “She was always like that, so involved in our lives. I don’t think there was a single day when I didn’t see her smile. When she got sick, I was only seven years old. I didn’t know how to handle that kind of thing. Sammy was only three, and he barely even knew what was goin’ on. It was like one day Mom was all sunshine and peaches, and the next… she was just gone. My dad didn’t take her death well the first couple’a weeks. He was just quiet, wouldn’t talk to me, Sammy, or anyone for that matter. I had to take care of Sammy for a while, wait for my dad to get back on his feet. He’s fine now, which you already know, but I can tell that whenever something reminds him of Mom’s death, he just… you can see it in his eyes. He misses her. We all do. That’s kind of why this park is so special to me; it helps me remember her by.”

Dean concludes his story and looks over at you, noticing that your eyes are watering a bit. He laughs nervously.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be such a downer.”

“No, no, you’re fine. Everything’s fine. It’s just… I didn’t really expect you to open up so much,” you chuckle.

“Hey, I’m not just a pretty face, you know. I can keep up a conversation,” he jokes.

“You’re not at all what I thought you’d be, Winchester.” You smile at him.

He furrows his eyebrows. “That’s a good thing, right?”

“It’s the best thing.”

You hold eye contact with each other, neither of you dares to speak. The space between you and Dean gets smaller and smaller as the two of you lean closer together. Soon enough, your lips meet his, and fireworks go off in your brain. Dean’s hand comes up to cup your face, and his slightly chapped lips move in perfect sync with yours. The kiss is soft at first, but emotions soon take over and it becomes more passionate. Neither of you pull away until the need for air becomes too much to handle.

You and Dean break apart, the swings creaking as they separate, and you gaze into each other’s eyes.

“Wow,” you breathe out.

“Yeah... wow,” Dean sighs.

You both sit in silence until you finally speak up. “I promise that next time we go on a date... I’ll tell you my story,” you say quietly.

“Next time, huh?”

“Believe it or not, I’m actually having a good time right now.” You smile at him. “And I can’t promise that my tale will be anywhere near as interesting as yours, but I’ll tell ya.” You shrug.

“I can’t wait.” Dean smiles at you.

“We should, uh, probably head home now…” you suggest reluctantly.

“Y-yeah. Home,” Dean stutters, somewhat caught off-guard.

You both stand up and walk over to Dean’s car. He opens up the passenger door for you, as expected, and he begins to drive you home.

“So why exactly did you tell me about your mom?” you ask curiously.

Dean peers over at you, a confused expression on his face, but he quickly looks back at the road.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m just wondering… we never really talked much before, not unless we’re teasin’ each other. What’s so special about tonight?”

“We’ve always been friends, haven’t we?” he inquires. “Even if it’s just been a little chit-chat every now and then.”

“I guess, but that doesn’t answer my question.”

Dean stays quiet for a few moments, mulling over his words.

“Maybe I finally realized just how great of a girl you are,” he admits.

“Wow. I, uh, I didn’t expect that,” you laugh, slightly embarrassed.

“It’s true, Y/N/N.” Dean smiles at you and you return it. He turns his attention back to the road and continues to drive you home. Both of you steal glances at each other every now and then the entire way there, neither of you wanting to forget this moment.

~~~

The drive to your house ends much quicker than either of you had wanted. Dean lets you out of the car and reaches out towards you.

“Let me walk ya in,” he says.

“It’s just a few feet. I’m perfectly capable of walkin’ myself,” you giggle.

“Nope. If I’m gonna keep up this gentleman act, then I need’ta walk you to the door at least,” Dean replies with a proud smile.

“Fine. Have it your way, Winchester.” You roll your eyes at him, feigning annoyance.

He chuckles and holds out his hand. You gladly take it, and you walk to your front door.

You stop at the last step and you turn to Dean.

“I had a really good time tonight,” you confess.

“Was it better than a girls’ night?” he inquires, smirking and quirking an eyebrow.

“Mmm, I wouldn’t rank it that high, but I had a blast,” you laugh.

Dean joins in and then gives you a quick peck on the cheek.

“See ya later, Y/N/N.” He slowly backs away from your porch and calls out, “And you better make good on that promise for a second date.”

“I will,” you reply, cupping your hands around your mouth like a megaphone.

He walks backward away from your house for the first few feet, his eyes never leaving yours, but then he turns around when he almost falls down a step. You laugh to yourself as Dean tries to regain his composure. He walks normally to his car the rest of way and gives you a small wave before getting in. You wave back from your porch, and Dean drives away.

Sighing happily, you turn and unlock your front door. You step inside, close the door, and lean against it. A light turns on a few moments later, and your mother emerges from her bedroom.

“Sweetie, where were you?” she asks.

“Oh, I was… out.”

She notices that you’re much happier than usual and smiles, almost knowingly.

“Well, I’m glad that you had a good time. Now, you should probably go to bed. It’s getting late.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you reply.

You practically skip up the stairs and go to your room. Plopping onto your bed, you stare at the ceiling, reminiscing about your evening and thinking about how you’re beginning to fall head-over-heels for the once elusive Dean Winchester.

[1000roughdrafts]

Time

Summary: Y/N Y/L/N has had the ability to pause and un pause time for likely her whole life, believing she was the only person with such a power. One day, she learns that not only is that not true, but the other person is also her soulmate.

A/N: written for @spndeanbingo and just a small, random thing to try and pull me out of this stump that I’m in. It’s not quality writing, but it’s... something and also, uh, unedited. I promise I’ll have better stuff out soon. Regardless I hope you enjoy it.

Square Filled: soulmates AU

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Fem Reader

Warnings: somewhat OOC Dean (in my opinion) and fluff

Word Count: 1k

You know those types of people who seem to be the life of the party? The ones who always get into conversations when they leave their house because everyone knows them? The people that every other person wishes they could be. They’re also the type of people that everyone looks up to, and they love an audience. They strive on it.

The ones that tell stories so melodically and eloquently that you feel like you’re listening to a symphony. They seem to be the type of people that have others doing things for them, but not because they asked. They never have to ask because the people around them just want to help. They speak with authority and compassion, which is an astounding trait to encompass.

Then there are the kinds of people that hang back in the crowds. The ones that usually go unnoticed, and usually prefer it that way. They are the ones who are able to go out to eat alone and end the night by only speaking to their server, going home feeling rejuvenated from spending a few hours alone.

The people who know a lot of people, but only when they stick to their routine places because there’s something so comfortable about stability. They are the kinds of people that like patterns and get nervous talking in front of a lot of people because when all eyes are on them they get panicky, losing their train of thought.

Y/N Y/L/N has always considered herself to be the latter of the two, partly by choice and partly because she feels it’s always been expected of her. She’s had an ability for quite some time, most likely her whole life. She never really understood it until it saved her from being robbed as a teen whilst walking home from her first job.

At nearly twenty four, she still only barely understands it. The only thing that is clear to her is that when time pauses, she better buck up and prepare for danger. Somehow, she’s in control of it, yet she never knows what’s happening until she’s mid-step and suddenly the people and cars are suspended, leaving her to figure out what move to make in order to stay safe.

This ability, or whatever one more humble would call it, has kept her hiding in the shadows, dreading the day she gets caught. Unfortunately for Y/N, today would be that day.

As she walks along the dark sidewalk, the spark in her chest she feels when time is suspended fills her. The cars freeze in place, and she notices a man off in the distance, walking towards her. Is he real? Is she imagining things? She has to be. Never, in her life, had she seen another person moving while time had paused.

Too afraid to approach him, she stands as still as a statue, hoping that he would pass by thinking she was as frozen as the cars in the street. Is he the one controlling this? Or is he the danger she has to avoid?

As he nears her, a waft of his cologne hits her nose. His hair is cropped and brushed in a nice spike that’s flattering for the chiseled shape of his scruffy jaw. With his deep, hypnotizing emerald eyes he squints slightly as he looks her over.

She holds her breath as he walks around her in a slow circle. Once he’s standing in front of her, he crosses his arms, an amused smile growing on his face.

“I’d love to see how long you’re able to hold your breath, but I’m not interested in watching a beautiful woman pass out,” he says, unfolding his arms while the smile grows further across his cheeks.

Her eyes narrow slightly as she lets out a quick breath before inhaling a longer one. He seems unaffected by meeting someone who’s as unaltered by the freezing of time as he is, making her wonder how many others there are, or at least how many he’s met.

“I’m Dean,” he says, holding a hand out to her. Staying silent, she continues to look him over. Pulling his hand back over to his side, he chuckles slightly, “and you are?”

Raising one eyebrow, she contemplates giving him a false name, but something inside of her is compelling her to tell the truth. ‘Y/N,” she says softly, yet confidently. “How are you not frozen?”

He laughs, “you’re new at this, aren’t you?”

Being slightly offended, she shakes her head as the blood rushes to her cheeks. Crossing her arms, she takes a step back to see his face better under the street lamp. “No, I just haven’t met anyone else who was able to stop time.”

“Neither have I, that’s what makes this so special,” he says with a wink.

“Why?” she scoffs, unfolding her arms, stepping back again to keep her distance.

“You know it deep down,” he smiles, looking down long enough for her to notice how full his eyelashes are. When he looks back up at her, he drops the smile but keeps it in his eyes.

“Hmm,” she hums, unsure of how much of what he’s saying she believes, despite the pull of certainty she feels in her heart when he speaks. The smile grows on his face as he watches hers fall in disbelief.

He shrugs with a low chuckle, “It’s actually kind of cute how you act tough when you’re afraid, but believe me there’s nothing to fear. This is a good thing,” he says, studying the expression on her face. He smiles, licking his lips slightly as the excitement of meeting the woman he’d spend his life with washes over him. She’s much prettier than he expected she’d be, but that has little to do with love, to him anyway.

It becomes increasingly obvious to her that he’s the first of the two types of people, as he’s clearly enjoying their interaction and taking the lead in the conversation. There’s something so intriguing about him, though, that she can’t place. She’d never been so drawn to this type of person before. Her previous relationships, friendships included, have been like her, quiet.

“Is this a soulmate thing?” she says, face scrunched together.

“Is that what your heart is saying?” he says, taking a small step closer to her.

As she nods, a smile grows on his face that is different from the others, it seems happier, wider.

“Why don’t we get out of the street and go get some pie and coffee, talk things through?” he says with a warm smile.

She nods again, this time letting the excitement find its way to her lips in a smile. “Yeah, I love pie,” she chuckles. “I just have one question first,” she says.

“What’s that?” he asks as he wraps an arm around her.

“How’d you find me?”

“I was just following my heart,” he smiles, pulling her close.

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