#because what if they kill again. (dean says that she won’t. she kills every week as a hunter. as a soldier in Oz.)

[quietwingsinthesky]

i guess it doesn’t make sense in leviathan!charlie verse for her to be keeping her mom alive in her coma, BUT. consider: leviathan!charlie who keeps human!charlie alive after she nearly killed her. halfway through her first meal on earth, and she got flooded with human!charlie’s memories and thoughts and it was so unlike the blind hunger of purgatory that she couldn’t handle it. but she can’t save human!charlie’s life, she went too far before she stopped and now human!charlie’ll never wake up, but she can’t let her go either, can’t face that becoming this version of herself cost someone else so much. someone she remembers being. someone she is in more ways than one. but also isn’t in even more.

[shanastoryteller]

Sam seems convinced this is going to work, but Dean’s pretty sure it’s just a load of crap. Bobby’s even more convinced that it’s a whole lot of nothing, although he had admitted that he couldn’t read every symbol that Sam had added to this mess up devil’s trap. That didn’t mean it would work. It just meant that Sam had thrown everything he could think into it.

The real reason that Dean is going along with this, and probably Bobby is too, is because it means that Sam wouldn’t be alone after Dean is dragged to hell. Although standing in the middle of Bobby’s junkyard in a mess of spray paint isn’t exactly how he’d wanted to spend the last hour of his life.

“You really think Lilith is going to show?” he asks. He doesn’t know why she would. She just has to send the hellhounds, who’s howls and yips Dean has been hearing for days. And those things have never been stopped by any sort of devil’s trap.

“Yes,” Sam says, tense, not looking at him.

That’s another thing. For weeks Sam has barely looked at him, barely talked to him. Which sucks, because he’d really wanted to spend the last weeks of his life just looking and talking to and spending time with his brother, but Sam hadn’t been interested in that. At all.

He shares a look with Bobby, who just shrugs, hands tight on his shotgun.

Then the hellhounds come, just like he knew they would, no Lilith in sight. “Sammy,” he says, reaching out for his brother. Not because he thinks he can do anything, but because he wants to touch Sam one last time, one last memory to sustain him through hell.

Sam snaps out his hand and the hellhounds go skittering back, letting out pained yowls.

Dean stares, not understanding. “What did you – wait. You can see them?”

Only he should be able to see them. He’s the one that made the deal.

Sam still won’t look at him, damnit, even as Dean fists his hand in the back of his shirt. Sam's voice is low and pained when he says, “I’m sorry.”

Fear clenches in his gut. But before he do anything, there are demons surrounding the devil’s trap, appearing one by one in Bobby’s junkyard. They’d needed to take down his protections so Lilith could get in, but they hadn’t expected this. Of course she brought a freaking audience.

“Which one of you is Lilith?” he barks out, dragging Sam behind him. He refuses to let the last thing he sees be his brother hurt, or worse.

Dozens of demons stand there, human vessels with pitch black eyes. The hellhounds whimper and slink around them, but don’t seem interested in getting any closer. Dean can’t blame them.

Sam pries his hand off of him, stepping away before Dean can grab onto him again. He leaves the safety of the devil’s trap, which is fucking stupid. Dean’s lunging forward to stop him, but then there’s Bobby’s arm holding him back, face pale with a horror Dean doesn’t understand. He hadn’t looked like that even at Cold Oak, when they’d seen the gates open to hell.

The demons bow.

He blinks, not understanding what he’s seeing.

Sam is standing there in front of them, no protections, and they’re all bowing to him.

Except one.

Ruby is there, stupid red leather jacket and blonde hair and the smirk he hates so much. She walks around the demons up to Sam, who’s face is cold and expressionless. “She’s coming.”

“I know,” he says. “If this doesn’t work, I’m going to kill you.”

“Promise?” she returns. “If this doesn’t work, death will be a mercy.”

Dean tries to push Bobby off of him, to get in between Sam and this bitch, but he doesn’t let go.

Then there’s a little girl in a white dress, head tilted to the side. “Something here belongs to me.”

Ruby flinches, stepping just slightly behind Sam.

“Not you,” she sneers. “You haven’t belonged to me in a long time, I fear. You really think that this boy can save you?”

“Sam,” Ruby says.

He sighs, like this is a trial, and raises his hand.

Lilith’s sneer drops from her face. Her upper body yanks forward, but her legs won't move. “You bastard,” she snarls, raising her hand in return, but nothing happens.

For the first time, fear flickers across her face.

Ruby steps forward, her own terror swallowed up by arrogance, by delight.

Dean tries to move, but finds he’s just as frozen as Lilith, even more so. He can’t twitch a single muscle. Going by Bobby’s unnatural stillness next to him, he assumes he’s in the same boat.

“Samuel is the heir of the light bringer,” Ruby says. “He has taken his birthright. You can’t touch him.”

What’s she talking about? What birthright?

What has Sam done?

“No,” Lilith snarls. “He’s nothing more than one of Azazel’s experiments.”

“A night, a full day, and then morning,” Ruby says. “That’s what he was. Then he rose on the third day.” She shoots a mocking look his way. “If it weren’t for his brother, he would have died nothing more than a failed experiment. But he has risen.”

No. What does that mean? What’s she saying? He had just wanted Sammy back.

Did he do this? Is this his fault?

“Ruby,” Sam says, a note of warning in his voice.

“Right, right,” she sighs. Then, back to gleeful, “Her eyes.”

Sam’s finger twitches and Lilith’s eyes bleed black tears.

She screams, the sound even worse because her vessel is a child.

Ruby lists thing after thing, pulling out her fingernails, peeling her skin. Her blood is black, none of it red, and the injuries shouldn’t really be hurting her but they clearly are. Dean watches helplessly as Sam tortures Lilith at Ruby’s command, enacting one terrible thing against her after another.

Lilith lies there, moaning, limbs broken, body in pieces.

“That’s enough,” Sam says.

“Enough?” Ruby hisses, turning to face him. “You know what she did to me! She – she–”

Sam’s stoic mask breaks, creasing in sympathy. Dean would prefer it wasn’t for a demon, for Ruby, but at least he now recognizes his brother. He raises his free hand to her head, his touch an oddly gentle counterpoint to everything he’s done to Lilith. “I know. But it’s enough.”

Tears glint in her eyes, just for a second, then she swallows and nods, stepping away from Sam’s hand.

He steps forward, crouching in front of Lilith. “You shouldn’t have come after my brother. Now we both have to live with the consequences.” His mouth twists. "So to speak."

Whatever she would have said in response is lost in her screams. Black smoke pours from her, then lights up, like a spark in steel wool, the fire moving through her reminding him almost of the Colt.

Lilith dies. Sam kills her, no Colt, no devil’s trap. Nothing but his own terrifying powers.

“Will you bow to me now?” he asks.

Ruby tears her eyes from Lilith’s corpse and her irritating fucking smirk slides back into place. “Now?” She steps closer, tilting her head back almost like she’s about to kiss him, then falls gracefully to her knees in front of him. It looks more like she’s about to give him a blowjob than a form of subservience, but he thinks that for a moment Sam almost seems amused. “I bowed to you first.”

“So you did,” he says softly. He raises his voice. “Move out. Casey. You know your job.”

“Yes, sire,” says one of the demons, voice almost familiar.

Then Sam’s walking away, Ruby just a step behind him. The other demons follow suit, the hellhounds not even glancing at Dean as they get caught up in the procession.

Sam still won’t look at him. He only sees the back of his brother’s head as he leaves him behind

The only demon left is Casey. He knows her, he recognizes her, the demon he’d been trapped with in that city full of sin, the one that Sam had shot and killed. He’d seen him kill her.

She gets to her feet, offering him a smile as she draws closer. “Hello, Dean. I bet you never thought you’d see me again.”

She steps right into the devil’s trap and presses a hand to him and Bobby each. As soon as she touches them, they’re able to move, darting away from her and leaving her stuck in the devil’s trap.

“What the hell was that?” he asks, wishing his voice wasn’t shaking, but he has more important things to worry about.

She turns to face them. “Samuel does not want you to die. He did what he had to do to ensure you wouldn’t.”

“The fuck you talking about?” Bobby asks gruffly.

“I told you back then I was ready to follow Sam,” she says, stepping out of the devil’s trap like it’s nothing, which she definitely shouldn’t be able to do. Bobby hadn't thought that this thing would be able to contain Lilith, but Casey’s nowhere near Lilith’s level. It should work on her just fine.

Bobby’s hand darts out, throwing holy water over her, but it doesn’t so much as steam.

She just looks amused. “That won’t work on me now. Neither will an exorcism, or any of the usual tricks. I have been purified.” She holds out her hand to Dean and it’s the Colt, the one that they’d lost when Bela sold it. “This is the only thing that will kill me now.”

“And you’re just handing it over?” Dean asks.

“I have my orders,” she says steadily. “Samuel wants you to have it.”

His entire body goes gold.

“What do you mean purified?” Bobby asks, shooting Dean a concerned look. “You’re a demon. Purifying you should kill you.”

“And was Lucifer a demon?” she asks. “I have taken the sacrament.”

Dean doesn’t know what that means, but Bobby’s expression shifts from disgust to shock to a horror filled curiosity. “You drank Sam’s blood?”

She did what?

“I have taken the sacrament,” she repeats, lifting her chin. “Samuel purified me.”

How the hell would Sam’s blood do that? Why had she drank it in the first place? She’s a demon, not a damn vampire. Dean pushes those questions aside and instead asks, “How are you even alive?”

“Samuel resurrected me,” she says. First he can kill demons, and now he can bring them back? “He knows we had a rapport and he thought it would be easier if it was me.”

“What would be easier?” he asks. His head is spinning and his heart hurts and he doesn’t understand anything that just happened. At least being dragged to hell would have been simpler.

She presses the Colt into his hands. “Samuel doesn’t want you to die. He knows this will be difficult for you, that you’ll make poor choices. I have my orders. I am to stay with you and keep you alive. We’re going to get to know each other very well, Dean.”

“Like hell,” he says gruffly, hand tightening as he takes the Colt and raises it to her head. “What’s to stop me from killing you?”

“The same thing that will stop you from killing Samuel,” she says and he flinches. “Nothing.”

He stares at her. He can’t bring himself to speak.

“You’ll have to hunt him down the old fashioned way,” she says casually. “But if you can find him, you can kill him. We’re all under orders not to touch you. Samuel won’t stop you if you want kill him. The same way I won’t stop you if you want to kill me.”

“Why?” he asks.

She shrugs. “It’s always been up to you, Dean. He trusts you. If you decide that he must die, then he’s willing to die.”

Dean sold his soul for him. He’s not going to fucking kill him.

But the Sam he sold his soul for wasn’t capable of doing that to Lilith. He wouldn’t have even wanted to be.

“What about your demon lover?” Dean asks, thinking of the priest that Casey had embraced and kissed, the demon she’d begged to spare Dean’s life before Sam had killed them both. “Sam bring him back too?”

Grief chases across her face before she smooths it away. “He will. If I am good, and obedient, and loyal, then Samuel will bring him back for me.”

Dean’s stomach rolls to hear Sam described like that, like some sort of tyrant or king. Like Dad. “You really believe that?”

Casey meets his gaze steadily as she echoes the words she’d said to him in that basement as she spoke of Lucifer, except now she’s talking about his brother. “I have faith.”

[destiny0]

Just Don’t give Up on me (Part 2)

(Au Dean Winchester x Reader, College)

Warnings : light angst, swearing, implied smut.

Summary: You and Dean have been best friends for years since you moved in the house across the street from him. Now you’re in college together but things start to change.

Characters: Y/N Y/L/N, Dean Winchester, Castiel Novak, Charlie Bradbury, Lisa Braeden(mentioned),Dave Stevenson, Jo Harvelle (mentioned), Meg Masters (mentioned)

————————————————————————————

“Charlie, I need your help.” You screamed at your best friend. “Woah! relax, what is it?” She frowned at me. How could you explain that you had a secret date with your best friend’s friend without him knowing and without telling Charlie about it?

“Charlie, I need to tell you something, but you have to promise me that you won’t tell Dean and you won’t be mad with me once I tell you” she looked suspicious. “Did you had sex with Dean while he was drunk and he doesn’t remember?” Your jaw dropped “What? No, what the hell Charlie” you looked offended. Why would she think that?

“Don’t look at me like that. My next guess was going to be that you killed Lisa and you need help burying the body” why was your friend thinking those things about you?, you weren’t that evil. “Stop guessing Charlie, you’re terrible at that” you said and she chuckled. “I have a date with a ... a frat boy and before you say it, it’s not Dean. We’re just friends.” just friends you thought and your heart ached.

“Yeah sure, just friends, that’s why you don’t want to tell him” she looked at you like you’re guilty, but you weren’t right? “he’s just… he never liked my boyfriends I can’t blame him, they were all assholes”

Every boyfriend you ever had would dump you after a week, you would just kiss them, and after that they wouldn’t contact you again.

“Have you consider maybe he didn’t like your boyfriends because he was jealous?” your cheeks flashed. No, he wasn’t jealous. You would always hang out with him and tell him about your boyfriends.

“No, why would he be jealous” I said with with a disappointment “Because he has the hots for you” she said. ‘I wish’ you thought “Charlie stop giving me false hope” you looked at your friend and she gave you a sympathetic smile.

“Anyway, I told Dean you were going to study with me tonight and you just forgot about it. If he asks tell him that” You said. Why did you feel like a bad friend? You were lying to him. You were gonna tell him if it got serious. You just needed time. “Fine, you’re talking like Dean is your boyfriend and you’re about to cheat on him.” You glared at her. “Yeah, got it, just friends just like Ron and Hermione were” she smirked at you “Charlie, Shut up” you said and she giggled.

——

You arrived with Charlie at the party you just got here and people already were making out “You look cute Y/N” Charlie said and you giggled “Thanks. You look hot Charlie” she blushed “Stop flirting with me, Y/N” she said jokingly

Since you were on a “secret date” you wanted to look cute, so you wore :

“So are you gonna tell me who is the mystery man?” asked Charlie referring to your secret date. “No. I’m sorry Charlie but I just want to make sure we start dating before I introduce him to you” Charlie rolled her eyes at you “Are you kidding me, is this all about your previous boyfriends who after a week of dating would dump you? If you show him to me I’ll make sure he will never break your heart” you were greatfull to have a friend like Charlie. You never had a girl friend before, in Highschool all the girls wanted to be friends with you because of Dean, they didn’t really cared about you, some would bully you and all that just for a boy.

“Hey Girls” said a familiar voice “Hey De” you said and he smiled

Deans POV

“Hey De” I smiled at the nickname “So, you did came” I said “No. You just seeing things” she said and giggled. I loved when she did that. “You look …Good” She looked gorgeous, i couldn’t keep my eyes off of her. Damn it Dean she is your best friend snap out of it. “Thanks De” she smiled “Charlie, you look good as well” I said “Thanks Dean. Oh Y/N, I got to go. My girl is right there If you need me call me” she said to Y/N “I’ll do Charlie, have fun with Jo” Charlie giggled. We were left alone and I wasn’t sure if that was a good thing

“So since when do you not wear Jeans” I asked her jokingly “I’m allowed to wear a skirt once in a while” she said with a mixture of offence and seduction. I couldn’t control myself around her anymore. I could feel my cock getting harder at her words and the way the skirt showed off her legs. Damn it Dean, why you gotta be such a pervert with your best friend, if she knew what you were thinking she would never talk to you again. “It looks good on you” Why? Why did I tell her that? She would think I’m a creep. “You think? Do my legs look good?” Y/N, I’m trying not to think about your legs around my waist, don’t make this harder “They look…okay” more like the hottest legs I have ever fucking seen.

The Readers POV

“They look…okay” He said in a hesitant voice. Did your legs looked that bad that he had to say okay in a hesitant voice? “Thanks” you said trying to hide your heartbreak “Hey Y/N” said Castiel one of Dean’s friends “Hi Cas” You said and he hugged you. You could smell the Alkohol from a mile “Are you drunk, Cas?” He pulled away from the hug and looked at you “Don’t be absurd. How could I be drunk?” He was definitely drunk “Sure” you said Laughing “Hey Y/N, I gotta talk to you” says Charlie grabbing you “What is it ,Charlie?” You looked concerned. “Is that the guy?” she asked and you burst out of laughing. Seriously Castiel? he was cute and adorable but he was already dating Meg “He has a girlfriend” she looked confused “More like a friends with benefits, he could easily date you” you couldn’t believe she was actually considering it.

“Charlie, it’s not him” she looked suspicious. “Then why did he hug you?” Adorable trying to figure out who the guy was “Because he is drunk, don’t be ridiculous, Charlie” she looked convinced “Fine”

Deans POV

“So have you told her?” Cas asked me looking at Y/N and I frowned “about what?” He looked confused at my question “about your feelings towards her. Emotional and sexual” he said and I turned red “What the hell are you talking about?” Could he possibly be talking about something else “Dean, I am aware you like Y/N” Was it that obvious? “Of course I do she’s my best friend” my pulse was raising “Dean you don’t have to pretend with me. I see the way you look at her and the way she looks at you. I wish Meg would look at me that way” How drunk was this guy? “Cas,try not to drink something else, you’re hammered” Cas looked at me in a sympathetic way. He patted my shoulder “Be careful Dean, I believe she is interested in someone else” my heart dropped to my stomach “What are-“ and before I could finish my question, he answered me “Dave said he had a date with her” and with that he left me boiling in my own blood.

There was no way she would go on a date with douche bag Dave. He was a dick. She would tell me if she had a date with my friend. “Hey Y/N, can I talked to you?” I needed to find out “Damn, aren’t I popular today, everyone wants to talk to me” she said smiling. The things I would do for that smile. “So what’s up?” I prayed to God that Cas had just misheard “Is there something going on between you and Dave” and her smile dropped and there I got my answer.

[1-imaginary-girl]

Couples Fight Sometimes

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: After a hunt gone wrong, you and Dean get into a heated argument. Reader uses she/her pronouns.

Warnings: Angst with a happy-ish ending, mentions of death, negative thoughts, swearing.

Word Count: 1433

A/N: Hi everyone! This is my first time posting a fanfic on here so I’m a little nervous, but I hope you enjoy it! I might be a bit inconsistent in my uploading since I tend to just write when I feel inspired and motivated, but I will try to post as much content as I can.

* * * * *

“Don’t you walk away from me!” You hear Dean yell from behind you. But you’re done with him and don’t want to deal with this right now. You’re all still exhausted from the hunt, and the non-stop hunting from the past few weeks, but apparently that won’t stop Dean fucking Winchester.

“Who’s gonna stop me?” you yell back as you make your way to the kitchen for some water. Leave me alone. I know I messed up. Please just go away.

As you reach the kitchen you hear Dean’s heavy footsteps enter the room as well. You keep your eyes on the sink in front of you.“You don’t get to just leave after that; we are talking about this,” he says in a stern tone of voice.

“Are we talking or are you just going to yell at me again?” you ask. You can feel your blood boiling, but you’re trying to remain calm because God knows one of you has to.

“I would love to talk to you like an adult but you’re acting like a child!”

“Oh, real mature.”

“That makes one of us.” Your hands clutch the kitchen counter as you try one last ditch effort to calm things down.

“Let’s just get some rest and—”

“What, and act like this never happened? Because news flash, people died!”

“Don’t you think I know that?!” you scream at him while whirling to face him. Your face feels hot and you notice Dean’s face is red with rage. This had been a particularly bad hunt. But Dean wouldn’t give you a break. You got tired and you got sloppy. What were you supposed to do? Switch places with the victims, a voice in your head says. You try to shake it off. “But people die every day.”

“Yeah well not because of you.”

A knife digs itself into your heart with that one sentence. You gasp and you feel your eyes burn with tears. That was low. And Dean knows it. As soon as the words slip out of his mouth, his face turns from angry to shocked and sympathetic.

“Y/N I’m sorry—”

“Wow, that was fucked up. What the hell is the matter with you Dean? What have you become recently?”

His face shifts back. “Excuse me?”

“It’s like you don’t give a shit about the rest of the world and it’s all about Dean Winchester! What makes you so fucking special that you get to treat the rest of us like garbage?”

“Hey I don’t—”

“And like you’ve never messed up! You’re acting like you’re Mr. Perfect when you’ve screwed up more times than I can count!”

“At least I tried my best!”

“So now you think I’m a shitty hunter? Because EARTH TO DEAN we all did our best!”

“Well a good hunter would have gone for the kill, but you hesitated and now that girl is dead!”

You’re done with this conversation. This isn’t your boyfriend; this is an angry shell of himself. And to be honest, between your grief and exhaustion, it isn’t you either. But you are still pissed.

“Thanks for the reminder. I’ll be sleeping in my room tonight so you can go fuck yourself.” Dean stares at you, still steaming. You glare at him one more time before leaving. You barely make it to your room and as soon as the door closes, you collapse onto your bed and break down.

†††

When Y/N leaves, Dean’s still pissed and, not having anything else to take it out on, he trashes the kitchen. He sees red and all he wants to do is get these feelings out of him. He screams and smashes objects until the kitchen is a complete disaster. Sliding down the wall, he takes a breath and rubs a hand over his face.

He just needs to breathe.

These past few weeks have been exhausting. They’ve been on hunt after hunt, desperate for answers and trying to find a win. Well…thinking back on it, he was a little more desperate than Sam and Y/N. Actually, he was mostly leading the runs.

It’s like you don’t give a shit about the rest of the world and it’s all about Dean Winchester. Has he been acting like that lately? Has he been treating them that poorly? He’s been so wrapped up in his own crap…

Shit, you may have a few points there. Truth is Dean doesn’t know who he’s become but whoever he is, Dean doesn’t like him. It’s so hard to act as if things are normal when they never are. Sam and Y/N have always been better at making things brighter while Dean just makes every room he walks into gloomier.

What is wrong with him? He took all of his frustrations and grief out on his loving girlfriend who was trying to act rational and mature while he just kept pushing. He always pushes too hard.

He messed up. This last hunt was particularly brutal, and they lost a kid. That’s always harder to handle. But he shouldn’t have handled it like he did. He definitely needs to apologize profusely in the morning but right now you probably want nothing to do with him.

He stands up and looks around the destroyed room. He’ll have to fix that in the morning too. He begins walking back to his room when he hears something. He stops in front of Y/N’s room and listens in. It sounds like…you’re crying.

He feels a harsh pang of guilt hit his chest as he realizes he’s part of the reason why you’re so upset. You definitely don’t want to hear from him…but he can’t just leave you like this.

He softly knocks on the door. When he doesn’t hear a response, he opens the door slightly. He peaks in to see you curled up on your bed struggling to breathe through the sobs. The view is heartbreaking.

“Y/N?” he says quietly. You don’t even look up.

“Please go away,” you cry. He pushes back his own tears at seeing you like this.

“I’m not here to yell at you.” He enters the room and closes the door. “Y/N I’m so sorry I said—”

“Don’t apologize,” you sniffle and hold back your sobs to talk to him. But you still have your hands over your eyes. “You were right, about everything. I killed her. I’m a horrible hunter and I’m so sorry Dean—”

“Hey, hey no don’t talk like that.” He quickly rushes to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed, knowing you’re more upset at yourself than him right now.

“It’s true, I’m a monster I’m sor—”

“Please stop apologizing.” Dean’s never been the best at comforting, but he has to try to help you. “What I said, I said because of my anger and grief, I didn’t mean it and I’m so sorry I said that to you.”

“It’s nothing I wasn’t already thinking.” That hurts more. He liked it better when you were mad at him.

“Well you shouldn’t, accidents happen on hunts all the time and it has nothing to do with the hunter. You know that right?” You don’t say anything. He knows words alone won’t help you.

He stands up and scoops you into his arms before lying back onto the bed. You curl your fists into his shirt and cry onto his chest. He rests his chin on the top of your head as he holds you tightly and combs your hair with his fingers. He lets you cry while gently shushing you and whispering kind things to you.

“I’ve been a bad boyfriend to you lately and just a terrible person. And I’m sorry. I’ll be better for you, okay?” The only indication that you heard him is that your grip on him tightens.

He was a bad boyfriend for not being mindful of what you needed and instead focusing too much on his own needs. You needed this, not to be yelled at. You don’t just need words; you need to know that he’s here for you.

So, he won’t tell you that he’s sorry. And he won’t tell you that it wasn’t your fault that girl died, it was his. He’s been dragging you and Sammy around for weeks, not giving you a break. He realizes now that you were sloppy because you were exhausted and that’s his fault. No, all of that can wait for another time. Because it isn’t about him right now.

Couples fight but they’ll always be here for each other. Because he loves you and your needs come first.

[sortasirius]

Dean Winchester be like:

I hate myself because it’s what my father taught me to do.  I hate myself because it’s a defense mechanism.  I use sarcasm to cover up the fact that I believe I am worthless.  I raised my brother into a good man, that’s the only good I’ve ever done.  I’ve saved some people, they don’t say thank you, but that’s okay.  I wish I could have been the man my father wanted me to be.  I break everything I touch.  All the people I love I end up killing or leaving me.  I am broken.  I don’t do romantic love, it’s asking for me to get my heart broken, more broken than it already is.  I sold my soul to a demon so I could save my brother, because he’s the best thing I ever did, the only good thing.  I’m afraid to go to Hell, but I pretend I’m not, because what’s the alternative? 

Hell proved that I was the person I always knew I was, a bad person, willing to torture to get out of pain.  I met an angel, he’s not like I thought.  He’s a soldier, like me, he’s taking orders from a father he can’t see.  He starts out as an ally, but he’s different than the others, they say he likes me.  He’s awkward, he stands too close to me sometimes.  I started the Apocalypse because I wasn’t strong enough.  My brother is going down the wrong path, and I don’t know how to stop it.  The angels tell me Lucifer has to rise, but the one that pulled me out of Hell disobeys to help me stop it.  I think I should consider him a friend.  Lucifer rises anyway. 

The angel is on the run from Heaven, he’s a good guy, I like him a lot, more than I think I should.  I don’t know what to do, if I say yes to Michael, we can save some people.  Maybe I’ll get to know peace, maybe my father will be proud of me then.  The angel and my brother are angry at me, but I’ve always been a coward, they just don’t know it.  But they know me best, I can’t say yes to Michael if it means disappointing them. 

My brother goes to the cage with Lucifer and Michael, the angel disappears, and I’m left to pick up the pieces, living a life I feel like I stole from somebody else.  I always sleep with a gun and holy water under the bed, even though I know every entrance is secure.  My brother comes back, but he’s different now, he’s not the same, I should have looked for him.  I feel guilty.  We found out his soul is gone, his soul, his soul.  The angel is back, but he’s no real help.  I kill myself to speak to Death, who brings back his soul in exchange for me playing Death, where I learn a few hard lessons. 

I find out the angel has been working with our enemies.  Why does it feel like my heart is broken when he won’t meet my eyes?  I leave him to the demons, but not before one last look.  I’m not sure why.  The idiot, he ends up dying trying to get souls from Purgatory, desperate to win his war in Heaven.  Why does everyone leave me?  The Leviathan are out there, a new threat.  At least I know how to kill, so I won’t have to think about the muddy trenchcoat in the trunk of my car.  I lose the closest thing I have to a father with a bullet to the brain.  I feel like I’m spinning out of control.  My brother loses his mind.  The angel comes back, he doesn’t recognize me, that hurts.  When he does remember me, I tell him we need him, but I really mean that I do. 

I get sent to Purgatory, I meet a vampire turned ally turned new best friend, but I won’t leave without the angel, I can’t leave without the angel.  We find him, he was running from me, why does everyone run from me?  We make it out of Purgatory, the angel gets left behind.  It turns out my brother didn’t look for me.  Why am I so dispensable?  The vampire is the only one I can trust now.  I dream about the angel, about the way I couldn’t save him.  I feel like I can’t save anyone these days.  I see the angel in the air around me, am I going crazy?  But then he shows up behind me, why do I care so much about him?  I don’t even care where he came from, as long as he’s here.  My brother takes on trials, they start to hurt him.  We find a place to call home.  I’ve never had my own bedroom before.  The angel is distant, I wish I could reach him.  He doesn’t answer my prayers.  He and I find the angel tablet, he hits me.  I tell him I need him, never able to tell him that I think I might love him too.  He snaps out of it then walks out of my life again.  I wish I was lovable.  I almost lose my brother to the trials, he has to know I can’t lose him, he’s all I’ve got.  The angels fall, I wonder about my angel, if he’s alright. 

My brother is dying, and I make a deal with an angel to save him.  My angel says he’s a good guy, and I’m too desperate to vet him properly.  I watch my angel, now a human, die in front of me, the angel in my brother saves him, it’s one of the only times I’ve ever put someone else over my brother.  I feel guilty about that.  I have to kick my angel out, it tears me in half to do it, but I have to protect my brother.  I watch the angel from a gas station window, I try to find the courage to go see him.  I use humor to hide how much I miss him.  My brother finds out about the angel, which cost the life of a kid I was supposed to protect, he’s so angry at me.  Well, I deserve it this time.  I take the Mark of Cain to defeat Abaddon, it can’t be all that bad.  I start to lose my grip on myself.  My angel gives up an army for me, and it’s the closest I feel to being me in months. My brother and my angel try to stop it, but it’s too late.  I die in my brother’s arms.

I wake up with black eyes.  I don’t care about anyone, anything.  There’s a tiny part of me that’s screaming to wake up, but I drown him out easily enough.  My brother finds me, says he wants to cure me.  I don’t want it, I don’t want to be me, not feeling is the best thing that’s ever happened to me.  They do cure me though, my brother and my angel, and waking up from the blackness is like surfacing from deep water.  For a while, I feel loved.  But after what I did, I don’t feel like I deserve it.  I’m still not me, and when my friend, who I loved like a sister is taken, I go off the deep end again. It’s too easy, but violence is all I know.  The angel tries to stop me.  I have him where I want him, a blade to the heart and this is all over.  But I still can’t kill him, I still can’t kill the angel.  Death tells me I have to kill my brother.  I almost do it.  But killing Death releases me, and I’m me again.  Sometimes I still wish I wasn’t.

I have this connection to this Darkness.  It scares the hell out of me.  I wish I understood it, I wish I could stop it.  Am I pulled towards the Darkness because I, myself, am darkness?  Is it because I am, because I’ve always been bad?  I lose the angel to Lucifer himself, how did I not notice until it was too late?  Why would he leave me like this?  Will I ever get him back?  My head is foggy around the Darkness, but not when it comes to him.  I just wish I could get through to him.  Lucifer taunts me, my heart rips in half.  We get the angel back, but nothing good can last in this life, can it?  God himself returns, I have to sacrifice myself to stop the Darkness.  I’ll do it, because of course I will, if I have an opportunity to do some good, I’ll take it.  The Darkness doesn’t kill me.  She thanks me.

My mother is alive.  It’s everything I’ve always wanted.  I have to learn fast that she’s not what I thought.  That’s hard.  Me and my brother end up in prison for trying to kill Lucifer, and we find out this girl is going to have his kid.  How will we kill someone innocent?  I can’t think about that, I’m a killer, I’ll kill if i have to.   The angel kills a reaper to save me, but what will happen to him?  We start looking for this kid, but do we even want to find it?  The angel nearly dies for me, he tells me, my family he loves us.  I wish I could tell him the same, but the words won’t work right in my brain, so I do what I always do, I look away.  The angel finds the girl, but the kid inside her gets to him, and he runs away from me.  Why does everyone run from me?  We find them just in time to find a rift to another world, and my brother has to drag me away from the angel, who is going to sacrifice himself to kill Lucifer.  He comes back, but before I can say the words I’ve been holding onto for so long, he dies in front of me, only this time, it’s real.  My mom is taken from me too, and I’m left by the angel’s side, staring up at the sky, wondering why, why me?

I bury the angel, my brother insists we can’t kill the kid, even though it’s his fault my mom is gone and the angel is...  I beg God to bring him back, please, bring him back.  You owe me this, please bring him back.  He doesn’t listen.  I’m alone.  We burn the angel, and I try to learn to live with regret and grief and crippling pain all at once.  I hate the kid, this is his fault.  I kill myself again to save some souls, but also because I want to die this time.  I can’t take it anymore.  Death tells me I have work to do, but how much more work can there be?  How much more can I take?  It’s like the Universe reads my mind, because my angel comes back, and it’s like the last few weeks haven’t happened.  I still can’t say the words, but maybe this time I’ll get there.  Maybe this time.  We go to the other world, we save some people, I find my mom.  I let another Michael from the other world possess me to defeat Lucifer, but then I can’t expel him.  Before he shuts me in my memories, I am desperately afraid.

My brother and the angel find me in my own head, the snap me out of it.  I should have known this bar was too good for me, I knew I didn’t deserve it.  I shut Michael in there, but I know I won’t last long. I think I’m too weak to hold him, so I build a box designed to hold me forever.  I dream about it, claw the sides of the wall until my nails are bloody, but if it’s my eternity or Michael’s rule?  I’ll take the ocean every time.  The angel will always try to save me, I still can’t say the words.  The kid, my kid, he destroys Michael, but something is wrong, and I don;t realize until it’s too late.  My mother is dead, at the hands of the kid, and I have never been angrier.  I hate the kid again, I hate the angel too, I hate myself more.  I pull a gun on the kid, but I still can’t pull the trigger.  Sometimes I wish I could put it to my own head.  God comes back, turns out he was the villain all along.  Typical.  He kills our kid.  I can’t let myself feel.

The angel tries to convince me that we’re real.  How can I believe that?  Is everything I am just a story?  Have I ever chosen anything?  Does the angel really care about me?  Do I really care about him?  Another one of our friends dies.  I blame the angel, I push him away, because I can’t look at him if I think what I feel for him might not be real.  I meet up with someone I loved.  He’s a monster now, I have to kill him.  He dies holding me.  I wish I was dead sometimes too.  My brother is sick, he gets kidnapped by God.  I’m spinning in circles.  Me and the angel end up in Purgatory again.  He gets taken from me.  I’m so alone, so scared, I break down in the one place I could get lost in forever searching for the angel, I don’t want to leave him, please, don’t make me leave him.  I have to keep looking, get back to the real world to save my brother.  How will I choose?  Thank god, or, whatever, I find the angel.  I’ll tell him this time, but he stops me.  He must know.  He doesn’t want me, no one wants me.  Why would they?  Chuck has taken everything from me.  I have to kill him, no matter the cost.  The cost is gonna be our kid, raised from the dead by Death.  I guess the one thing we have going for us is we don’t stay dead for long.  I’m ready to let my kid die for my freedom.  My brother stands in the way, I pull a gun on him.  He talks me down, he’s the only one that can.  I decide to take it out on Death, my pain, my anger, my rage.  I take the angel and we find her, she chases us.  Another trap.  I realize that I’ve trapped us both.  Why am I so worthless?

The angel looks at me.  He smiles.  He tells me how worthy I am, that I’m good, that I changed him.  How can I tell him how he changed me.  He tells me he’ll die for loving me.  Then he shouldn’t, I’m not worth his life.  Don’t leave me, please, I can’t lose you, you don’t know what it does it me when you leave me.  He tells me he loves me.  I try to tell him a fraction of the things I feel for him, but it’s too late.  He’s taken before my eyes, and this time I know there’s no getting him back.

I’m left on the floor, unable to move.

This time I know, I’ll never let myself love again, because my heart is so shattered that it’s powdered, there’s no repairing it now.  I’ve always been broken, but this time I’m not just broken: I’m destroyed.

[let-them-read-fics]

Blackpink HC / One Shots: Enemies to Lovers, College AU (1/2)

Requested: Yes

Warnings / Misc. -- Bickering, Rivalry, Fluff

A/N: Hey everyone! Anon, I assume you wanted to see each individual relationship with the girls and not OT4 x Reader. If not, I apologize, but I hope you enjoy this regardless.

This post includes Jisoo and Jennie. If you would like to see Rosé and Lisa's, click the link below.

Click for Rosé and Lisa

♡ Happy Reading ♡

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Jisoo

Kim Jisoo: The girl at the top of her class, breezing through her school years with little competition whatsoever. She was used to winning, and anyone that ever tried to challenge her eventually gave up.

You: Also used to being at the top of your class, you were the first person to actually give Jisoo a run for her money. You didn't shy away when challenged by her, and that took her aback.

Your rivalry was one rooted in academics.

When a new project was assigned and you were allowed to choose your teammates, everyone would flock to the two of you in hopes of getting picked.

Bragging rights were awarded to whoever had the longest line of people.

Impatiently waiting to see who scored higher on tests.

Rubbing it in when you did better, and vice versa.

"Ha! Take that, Jisoo. I got a 98."

"Don't get cocky, Y/N. I beat you by 6 points last week."

"Yeah, yeah," you brush her off. "Look who's on top now." You hold your paper up, smiling when she rolls her eyes.

Other competitions were held, and even the teachers caught on and would adjust their lessons accordingly.

"Class, today we'll be having a set of one on one debates, and an anonymous vote will determine the winner of each. The person who defends their opinion the most effectively will win. Jisoo and Y/N, you're up first."

Although losing was always annoying, it made you respect each other a little more.

You both loathed and revered each other, though you'd never let that secret out.

Fighting for the best scholarships and rankings.

Constant bickering and one liners in class

"Should I go ahead and apologize now, or is it okay to wait?"

"Apoligize for what?"

"Ending your career."

*unintelligible mumbling*

"What was that, Y/N?" Jisoo inquires, cocking her head to the side as she narrows her eyes at you.

"I said: you're going down."

She scoffs at that, unaffected. "Please, I'd like to see you try."

You ended up winning that day, and she was all *surprised pikachu*

School would always be interesting and eventful with her

Pretty much everyone else can tell that you have a thing for one another, but the two of you remain oblivious.

Turning Point

Both of you joined the academic team when you enrolled, which meant that you'd be going toe to toe with other school teams in pursuit of the winning title.

On one of your overnight field trips to face off against another school, you were assigned to the same hotel room.

"Mrs. Wilson, I can't stay with her--" You walk down the hotel hallway behind your instructor, hoping she'll see your point. Her reasoning for putting you together on the roster is beyond you.

"Y/N, it's only for a night. You know we can't afford to give all of you individual rooms; our budget's already small." She reasons, eventually turning towards you when she reaches the elevator.

"Alright," you relent with a sigh, putting your hands up.

What she says next surprises you. "Who knows, you might enjoy it." A knowing look shines in her eye, and a small smirk threatens to tug at her features.

The elevator dings just as you go to question her about it, and she bids you farewell before heading in.

You can do this, Y/N. It's just one night; how bad can it be? You ask yourself, taking your sweet time in going back to the room.

---

An Hour Later

In an attempt to kill some time and recover from the fatigue your long road trip brought on, you've been trying to relax and take a nap. In fashion with your typical luck, though, Jisoo is making that nearly impossible.

"Jisoo, turn it down!" You groan, tossing a pillow at her head. She sits on the loveseat at the foot of your bed, completely fixated on the images flashing before her eyes as she plays her video game.

"Shhh, stop distracting me." She says over her shoulder, making you huff.

You value your pride too much to ask nicely, so you suck it up and stick it out for a little while longer. When she lets out a loud shout a few minutes later, though, you've reached the end of your patience.

Wordlessly, you get out of bed and stomp over to the TV, standing directly in front of it.

"Y/N, move! I'll lose!"

You stay there with your arms crossed, and are soon rewarded by the game's voiceover announcing: "Game over."

She huffs and sets her controller down, clearly upset.

"Sucks when people don't listen, huh?" You challenge, still mad that you've been denied a proper nap for so long. Every time you'd be right on the cusp of being drug under, slipping in and out of glorious slumber, she'd do something to ruin it. You're cranky now, and being petty seems like a just punishment for her.

"I can't believe you did that," she shakes her head and rolls her eyes. "That was the championship match!"

"Oh well," you shrug, a smirk tugging at your lips at that new piece of info. Perhaps justice has been served after all.

With one more warning glance at her to tell her not to do it again, you go back to the bed and get comfy, settling under the warm blankets.

---

30 Minutes Later

"ON YOUR RIGHT, ABOUT TO ROUND THE CORNER!" Jisoo bellows out, smirking when she feels you stir behind her. You scowl, wiping the sleep from your eyes.

"Jisoo, I swear to God," you grumble, feeling the irritation rise in you all over again. You get up again and approach her, but she has a plan this time. In one fluid motion, she sticks her foot out in front of you, making you stumble and fall to the ground.

"What the--" as you prepare to reprimand her, you see something out of your peripheral. Aided by your new perspective, you spot the remote controller on the coffee table right in front of you, just an arm's length away.

When Jisoo notices that you haven't screamed at her yet, she looks down and realizes her mistake. A dramatic moment passes where you both lock eyes, before immediately diving for the remote. You manage to get to it first, quickly hugging it close to your body and rolling away from her. She pounces a second later, reaching her hands around you to pry it from your grip.

"Give it back, Y/N!"

"No!"

You writhe underneath her until she manages to get the upper hand, straddling your hips in an attempt to pin you down. She sits back on her knees, gazing down at you as your chests heave from the effort you've exerted.

"Give it." She commands, holding her hand out expectantly.

You shake your head, amused that she thought that would be enough to sway you. "No."

"Then you leave me no choice." Her hands dart forward to your abdomen, and she begins tickling you mercilessly in order to make you surrender. Calls for her to cease her assault struggle past your lips, but you know it's futile. She's a determined person just like you, and she won't stop until she gets what she wants.

So, after taking a second to think of a way out of your predicament, a brilliant idea pops into your head.

You finally let her pry your arms open, smirking when she cheers and claims victory. In one fluid motion, just as she had done before, you wrap your leg around one of hers and flip her onto her back before leaning down to kiss her. She tenses up at first, but her hands end up working their way to your hips as her lips begin to move against yours.

Your plan is backfiring a bit; you only intended to shock her and buy yourself time to steal the remote back -- you never thought you'd actually enjoy the feeling of her kiss. You tilt your head to the side to get a better angle and slowly skim your hand down to hers, where the device is tightly clutched. Her other hand has come up to your jaw, which she's gently guiding as she steals another kiss from your lips.

Her distracted state made it easy to get what you were after, and soon -- much too soon for Jisoo's liking -- you pull away with a victorious smile. She doesn't know what to say; in all honesty, she's almost forgotten how to breathe with the way you kissed her senseless.

"I win." You grin, hopping off of her and shutting the TV off before crawling back into the bed. She stays in that same position for a couple minutes, laying on the floor as she tries to sort through what the hell just happened. She can't even be upset right now; she brings her fingertips to her lips, skimming them over the heart-shaped pillows as she smiles.

The Fallout

Things were a little tense when you shared the bed that night

Anytime you'd roll over and readjust your head on the pillow in your sleep, unknowingly positioning your lips dangerous close to hers, her heartbeat would pick up and she'd have to roll over again

You pretended to be asleep when she scooted back against you, pressing herself against your front in search of the heat that your body provided. You brought an arm around her, enclosing her in a soft embrace that had her blushing crimson

Subtle flirting at the competition the next day

Sticking up for each other when one of the other teams got a little rude

"Hey, don't talk about her like that!" Jisoo warns, glaring at the student from your rival school. His uniform is mussed and unkempt, leaving it as no surprise that he was the one to say such a thing.

"Why do you care?" He laughs back, spurred on as his friends snicker along.

The question catches her off guard; just days ago, she was the one bantering with you and testing your limits. Now though, when someone else is taking it too far, she can't help but feel angry. "Because she's my teammate. Now knock it off or I'll report you to your dean for unsportsmanlike behavior."

He scoffs, but eventually opts to grumble out another insult and turn away, nursing his bruised ego.

"Thanks, Chu." You quietly say, having witnessed the whole encounter from the row behind her. A small smile tugs at your lips at her actions, warming your heart.

"No problem, Y/N. But you'd better help me beat him; I'm not losing to that idiot." You laugh and agree, shaking her hand to seal your pact. She tries not to get too caught up on the smoothness of your skin or how it reminds her of last night, but her brain doesn't listen.

Needless to say, you beat them.

Your team stopped by a nice restaurant on the way back home for a celebratory dinner

Jisoo sat beside you

Cue the blushing and quiet flirting

It's a new side of her that you're not used to seeing. Now, instead of being all hardcore and witty, a simple look from you can make her blush

It doesn't always, though; sometimes she grows bold and lays a hand on your thigh for a moment, laughing at something you said

It's giving very much so gay panic™️, but you wouldn't trade it for the world

After the dinner, you go back to the bus and sit in your seats (which aren't together, surprisingly).

As you scroll through your phone, you get a text from Jisoo. Attached to the message is an invitation to one of her favorite mobile games.

"Hey, Y/N. Will you be my player 2? 🎮"

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Jennie

Jennie Kim: The girl who practically ran the school, always getting her way and never having to lift a finger. She was royalty: the queen bee sat atop her throne, giving orders to the masses that they followed blindly. The whole situation seemed straight out of a poorly-written teenage movie, and it always annoyed you.

You: The girl who stuck to herself, only having a close group of friends that she talked to. You weren't popular, per se, but you weren't cursed to exist at the bottom of the food chain, either. Many people knew you, but you only associated with a select few.

You avoid the "popular" crowd a majority of the time, opting to spend spare time in between classes in the library or outside, doing homework

Jennie is the type of person that has people lined up, waiting for her to ask them to do hers for her. She gets to skip class and do whatever she wants, and she usually takes advantage of that.

She's never been mean to you directly, but you've seen her and her posse pick on people in typical mean girl fashion

You've never noticed the way that she usually targets people who've said bad things about you. She sticks up for you without you even knowing.

So, as you would expect, when your best friend called you and begged you to accompany her to one of the biggest parties of the year (hosted by none other than Jennie's brother), you were definitely surprised. Neither of you are the type to go to anything like that, but you know that she secretly wants to peek into that world of luxury.

"Pleaaaaase, Y/N? I'll do your laundry for a month."

"Fine."

The Turning Point

Your stylish boots crunch lightly against the concrete as you stand outside of the frat house, grimacing when you notice a boy stumble to the side of the house and get sick.

"We might have to bump that offer up to two months," you say to your friend, leaning onto her car as she checks her makeup in the side mirror.

"If it keeps you here for an hour or so, then fine." She smiles, taking your hand and leading you towards the building. Upon opening the door you're immediately greeted by waves of the strong bass of whatever song is playing. Their rhythmic thumps reverberate around the house, and you choose to seek some semblance of peace and quiet by heading to the kitchen. Your friend comes with, and the two of you push your way to the drink bar for refreshments.

"Thanks again for coming along, Y/N/N. You're the best." She leans into you, saying the phrase loud enough for you to hear over the music.

"I know," you hold your head up higher, self-assured. "You'd better go find Benji before things get too wild," you tell her, taking note of how the crowd is quickly growing in size. Benji, her longtime crush, is the only reason you really agreed to tag along; she's been head over heels for him for as long as you've known her, and you see this as the perfect opportunity for her to finally tell him. She needed some backup, and you always come through for your friends.

"Alright, I'll come find you later," she says, nervously smiling as she kisses your cheek as a farewell. You shout encouragement to her retreating figure, grinning wildly when you see her throw her hand up in the air.

Considering you made a drink for her just then before sending her off, you take the time now to make one for yourself. Your hands skim through the air overtop of the different bottles, searching for your favorite flavors and types to mix. As you go to reach across the table for one of them, disaster strikes.

You gasp as cold liquid lands on your shoulder, following gravity's command and rushing down your back and chest. A flurry of apologies follows suit, and you feel a soft hand on the small of your back as you go to turn around.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," Jennie says, covering her mouth in shock. For a moment you're worried that she was dared to do this -- that perhaps her friends sent her off to ruin your outfit and embarrass you. When you find sincere regret in her deep brown eyes, though, all of those worries melt away.

"It's alright," you assure her, shaking your arms to get rid of some of the sticky drink that's trailed its way down. You set your half-filled cup on the table, no longer interested in getting anymore now.

"At least let me wash the shirt for you. I have a coat you can wear while its getting clean."

You furrow your brows at the offer, not expecting that from her. Not only has she apologized, which is practically unheard of from the prima donna, but she's willing to do something for another person?

"Uh, okay." You do your best to mask the confusion in your tone, but it's still plain to see.

"Follow me," she politely instructs, leading you down the hall towards what you assume is the laundry room.

She flips the light on and shuts the door behind you, walking into the closet to search for the spare set of close she keeps here.

When she emerges again, fluffy coat in hand, she begins stumbling over the words she was about about to say. Her eyes land on you, taking in the expanse of exposed skin now that you've stripped off the shirt you were wearing. She can't help but admire the sight; she subconsciously bites her lip, only being brought back to reality when you wave your hand in front of her face.

"Hello? Earth to Jennie?"

"What?" She eventually asks, shaking her head to rid herself of the thoughts swarming in it. She's always had a sort of thing for you, but she never imagined you could look that good. It should be a crime.

"I asked if you have a bathroom around here, so I can, ya know... wash up a bit. Whatever you had to drink is pretty sticky." You chuckle, moving your arm to show her how far it's spread.

"This room over here," she says, approaching a door on the wall opposite you, "is actually a bathroom. Convenient, right?" She asks, flipping the light on for you.

"Absolutely," you perk up, glad to know that you won't have to strut down the hall in your sports bra to get to a bathroom.

She steps to the side and pushes the door open for you, nearly melting when you give her a little wave and shut it behind yourself. She's got it bad.

She takes your shirt and throws it in the washer before setting the knobs correctly, knowing the best combos by heart. She and her brother are close, so it's not uncommon for her to come by and help him with chores when he gets swamped.

A few minutes later you come out of the bathroom clean and dry, nervously fidgeting with your hands as she turns to look at you again. Having the Jennie Kim looking at you in such a way and having her so close is a bit overwhelming, and you're not exactly sure how to deal with it.

"Here," she says, reaching around you to slide her jacket onto your arms. Her face hovers dangerously close to yours as she does, making you hold your breath in anticipation. She pulls the jacket closed, adjusting it so that it lays right, and you look into her eyes.

"Thanks, Jen."

Her heart speeds up at the nickname, though she tries not to show it.

"No problem, sweet thing." She flirts, taking you aback.

Just as you go to say something more, the door blasts open and a couple of her friends pop in. "There you are Jennie! What are you-- oh," they say, watching as the two of you spring apart.

When they realize who you are, they laugh among themselves. "What're you doing in here with her?" They ask, looking you up and down before ultimately appearing unimpressed. Jennie glances at you again, and you can see her going through some sort of inner turmoil.

"Thank God you guys showed up; she won't quit talking. I was just about to leave." She laughs, regaining the bitchy aura that she's known for. You set your jaw and nod, remembering why you choose to stay away from people like them.

"Wow, Jennie. You really had me fooled," you bite back, a bit shocked, but not surprised. You keep your eyes on hers as you take her jacket off and let it drop to the floor in front of her, grabbing a spare towel from the hamper on your way out the door. Her friends scoff at you, wondering what such a nobody like you thinks they're doing treating Jennie like that. You brush past them and send her one last look, conveying all the emotions you feel with a mere glance.

She's disappointed in herself, and she hangs her head as the girls scoop the designer material up and hand it to her.

----

45 Minutes Later

Just 15 more minutes, Y/N; totally doable. You reason with yourself. Jennie left the laundry room soon after you, leaving it vacant for you to put your shirt in the dryer and retrieve it when it was done. Now, clad in the warm material, you sit outside by the fire. Stars are shining brightly in the night sky, illuminating it so beautifully that your mind is taken off of what happened. They twinkle for you, and the sight puts you at ease.

What has that pleasant feeling dissipating in a second, however, is the sound of Jennie's voice as she exits the patio door.

She's talking to her friends about some boy that's in love with her, as the whole school seems to be, and you roll your eyes. With the moment officially ruined, you decide to head back into the house and spend the rest of your sentence there.

Once you stand up from your seat and turn around to take your leave, her friends notice you. "Jesus, you're really obsessed, aren't you? Are you following her or something?" One of them, a snarky blonde from earlier, asks.

You laugh at that. "Hardly," you glance at Jennie, though she avoids eye contact. "I'm sure you'd like that, though. Give you something to talk about other than your split ends." She reels back at your boldness, prepared to start a fight.

"You bitc--"

"Stop," Jennie finally steps in, cutting the girl off. She moves between the two of you, putting a hand on your chest and looking into your eyes.

"Jennie, I don't know what her problem is," the blonde squeaks out, trying to defend her actions.

"The problem doesn't lie with her," she tells her, leaving her puzzled. Jennie continues, "I lied earlier; I'm the one who invited her to the laundry room because I spilled my drink on her." You narrow your eyes at her following her statement, wondering where she's going with this.

"We probably would've kissed, too, if you hadn't walked in."

Your heart speeds up a little at that, but you're still hurt by what she did earlier. Having her be one way with you in private and another in public is never a good sign.

"I'm done with you guys. You turn me into something I'm not," she looks between the small following that's accrued, letting them know how she's been feeling for the past bit. The majority of them are stuck up and entitled, and seeing the hurt in your eyes put things into perspective for her. She likes you, and she wants to be better because of that.

"I don't understand, Jennie," one of them asks, sounding like she's on the brink of tears. Are these people really that invested? You know the hierarchy of popularity is confusing, but they make it seem like she's breaking up with them.

"We're not friends anymore. Not until you get your heads out of your asses and start being nicer."

The crowd clearly doesn't know how to react at her sudden change in attitude, but they mutter out various responses before some of them break away.

You look down at her and glance to the house, wordlessly telling her to follow you so that you can have a moment alone to talk. You lead her over to the patio and stand against the wall.

"I'm sorry," she says, sounding relieved to finally get the words out. Her previous actions have been weighing heavily on her, and she's been doing some introspection. It's not entirely all of a sudden, though; she's been questioning why she still hangs out with them for a while now. This encounter just confirmed her desire to leave them.

"I shouldn't have lied like that. I know it hurt you." She looks away, feeling disappointed again.

"Yeah, it definitely wasn't fun to have my crush talk about me like that." You nod, shoving your hands into your pockets.

"Crush?" Her head raises up, doing a terrible job of concealing the hopefulness she feels blossoming.

"Crush." You lightly smile at the way she blushes at your simple confirmation. She's too adorable for her own good; it's really no wonder than she has everyone on their knees for her.

"Thank you for apologizing," you say after a moment, nudging her shoulder gently. "It's more than your posse usually gives, so I appreciate it. You'd better mean it, though." You cock your head at her expectantly, a hint of warning in your tone.

"You have my word," she smiles, determined to make sure the opportunity you're giving her doesn't go to waste.

The Fallout

In the following weeks, she cut ties with more and more toxic people, causing a bit more drama to stir up, but she didn't care. You were by her side through all of it, as were your friends, and she saw what true community looks like. She had so many people at her beck and call back then, but none of them cared as much as your close knit group. They were in it because of her status, not because of her.

Walking her to class

Both of you sticking up for each other if people try to start stuff

Helping her correct her bad habits if she starts to get judgemental with someone or slips back into her old ways

Being patient with her

Her spoiling you randomly to show how thankful she is for you

"Miss L/N, we have a Candy Gram for you. Sent by Jennie Kim." A staff member says upon entering the classroom, walking the package over to you. You grin widely as you open the note attached to it.

"Come see me after class, Y/N/N. I have something for you."

You were excited for the rest of class

You rode your bike back to her dorm, parking it outside before knocking on the door.

"Hey, Jendeukie. What do you have for--"

You're abruptly cut off by her lips pressing against yours as her hands pull you in, turning you to mush. You sink into her arms and kiss back, reveling in the feeling of finally having this moment with her. You've been waiting for it ever since the party.

"I've wanted to do that for so long," she softly admits, resting her forehead against yours. "I hope I didn't overstep." You can hear the nervousness in her voice, and you smile at how cute she is.

"Quite the opposite, actually. Come here," you pull her in again, lifting her up into your arms as you walk into her dorm. She squeals at the sudden move, but the sound is quickly muffled as you lean in to kiss her again.

[wormstacheangel]

Bec and Ali Creators Week: Day 4 - baby!jack au where Dean fell into the portal with Lucifer and Cas lives

It’s been almost a month since Dean disappeared into the portal with Lucifer.

Sam has been off researching all things otherworldly while Mary does nothing but hunt. She never calls back but sends an ‘I’m okay’ text whenever she remembers.

Cas, on the other hand, has been on the run with baby Jack the whole time. He thought they could have lived in peace in the lake house, but since the portal opened, it’s been a calling card for every supernatural creature around them. Including angels and Cas couldn’t risk anybody hurting Jack.

“You can’t do this on your own!” Sam yelled at Cas through the phone. “Just tell me where you are, and I-!”

“No! Sam.” Cas sighed as he looked over at the motel bed to see Jack’s little hands grasping at air as he fidgets and laughs. “I can’t risk what happened before, happen again. Jack he-when he is upset it could be catastrophic.”

“I won’t hurt him.”

Sam promised. But he has promised this before, and the only reason Sam is alive is that Cas begged Jack not to hurt him. Jack was as powerful as anybody feared, but he is still so gentle. His powers only appearing when there was a threat nearby. Now Sam was a threat.

“I can’t be sure he won’t hurt you, Sam, and I just can’t risk you.” You are all I have.

The days were never lonely with Jack. Cas has dealt with true loneliness before to know the difference. But they weren’t any easier.

“Please, Jack. Please stop crying.” Cas would bounce Jack in his arms, unable to understand what was wrong. Jack doesn’t get sick like a regular baby. He doesn’t sleep or eat like one either, so those books were utterly useless. They only helped remind him repeatedly about keeping to a schedule, and right now, Jack should be tired.

Cas sang to him, hoping whoever banged the motel door won’t come back yelling about shutting the baby up. Jack has cried for two hours now. Not stopping. And while Cas did not sleep, he felt exhausted.

“Show me what’s wrong, Jack. Please. I want to help you.”

Dean would know what to do. He would know how to hold Jack and bounce his arms to an exact beat that made all babies feel comfortable. Dean was amazing with kids. Amazing with everybody.

“You would have loved him.” Cas bent his head over to press a kiss to Jack’s soft bald head. He took a big calming breath of baby before continuing to bounce the baby in his arms. This time Cas sang a familiar song, one may be inappropriate for Jack but comforting nonetheless. “And if you say to me tomorrow. Oh, what fun it all would be. Then what's to stop us, pretty baby. But what is and what should never be.”

“I actually didn’t understand the lyrics and had to look them up.” Cas talked as he looked ahead at the ugly wallpapered room. “Dean knows them, though. Sometimes he mumbles it, and he gets embarrassed when he messes up, but he knows it. He just gets excited.”

Cas stops talking when he realizes the crying has finally turned into easy breathing. Jack was finally asleep.

The relief didn’t last long. Cas was lying in bed, eyes shut with Jack sleeping on his chest when he felt something off with the air around them. It tasted too electrifying and heavy to feel like a storm.

They have been found again.

Cas is quick to pack up, cradling a once again crying baby to his chest. It would be faster if he had both his arms to pack up their mess, but he left some things behind as he drove off. Leaving another motel for the road again.

Driving the Impala to the next motel took a three-day drive. Jack was patient enough, blabbering alongside the music, but even they needed to stop to get some fresh air every once in a while.

In the motel, Cas once again had to watch the video on how to bathe a baby because he always assumes he will do it wrong. He made a checklist out loud, asking Jack what else they may need besides food and diapers. He promised to head straight to the store in the morning to buy him new clothes since the baby quickly outgrows every new outfit Cas could manage to get him.

As the day was winding down, Cas called Claire to check up on her. She worries about him but won’t admit it out loud, so Cas keeps the conversation focus on her. She asks about Jack but more to be polite. She is scared that the baby may end up being the thing that would kill him, but Cas saw a future where Claire was happy and safe, so all this trouble would be worth it.

Though he saw a future with Dean too, but every day, it felt like that vision was wrong. Maybe that vision was long gone now. All possibilities to it were now shattered.

Cas turned to the bed when he heard the start of cries. Jack was waking up.

“Hey.” Cas crawled into bed beside him. “Oh, don’t cry, Jack.”

He presses a kiss to his son’s head, feeling warmth run through him. “I love you so much. You know that?” Cas lifts Jack up and holds him to his chest again. Letting Jack settle down for a second before Cas continued. “I know we are dealing with a lot right now, but having you, Jack, still makes me feel happy. I just wish I could give you the life you deserve.”

Cas sighed as his hand gently pats at Jack’s back.

“I just wish I could give everyone I love the life they deserve.”

They settle in the motel for a week before they had to move on. Motel. Impala. Motel. Impala. That was their life.

“I’m so tired,” Cas whispered to himself in the mirror, splashing water on his face as he hears Jack continue to cry in the room over. Of course, Cas would start crying himself because Jack has been crying with no rhyme or reason. Not one that Cas could find.

They haven’t stopped driving for a week. They rested in the car, and it was only a short time before they were found again. Cas finally lost whoever was after them after killing three demons in the gas station, but he was nicked a few times. Grace seeping out of him for a few seconds before he healed himself.

Jack could heal him, sure, but every time he used his powers, they had a new group coming after them. So no powers for right now. While Cas was desperate to feel better, he was also desperate to stay put for a while and not drive.

“Jack, baby, please don’t cry anymore.” Cas crawled back into bed, tears forming around his eyes. “Please stop crying. I’ll do anything you want.”

Jack’s little lungs gave it everything they got in the sudden yell, and Cas hid his face in Jack’s little body as he cried alongside his baby.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered. “Dean would have known what to do. He would have taken so much better care of you.”

Jack’s little cries stung again and again. Feeling hopeless and frustrated, Cas only kissed him. He was trying to quiet his cries while also fighting his own.

“Please, baby, don’t cry.” Cas cradled Jack to his chest and kissed his little head as Jack’s tiny fist hit him. “I never knew how much it would hurt to see a child cry. I never thought I would know this heartache.”

Cas started to sing. "You are my sunshine. My only sunshine.”

The voice filled with more gravel as he fought his own sob.

Cas fell asleep for the first time since having Jack. He dreamt of the happy vision, of Dean, of the happy family he longed for. All the things that were looking impossible today.

Cas wakes up to a flash of light.

[lunmelia]

Listen I know that Jack had to “grow up fast” because the world is a “dangerous place” or whatever but if he was born a baby?? I would’ve watched the hell out of that show. Just two dudes, their mum and an angel raising the devil’s baby. Because I say that they kicked Lucifer’s ass to the alternate world and everyone lives (except Kelly. Sorry.). Could you imagine? 

You have Mary; the woman who has experience in raising two babies, even if one was only for six months.

You have Dean; the man who basically raised Sam and has vague memories of helping out when his brother was a baby. Helped Lisa with her son and baby niece. Took care of a shapeshifter baby for a day. Also had a daughter for a couple of days but didn’t interact with her much. 

You have Sam; not much experience. Also took care of a shapeshifter baby for a day. Strong in research, might manage to find them at least a paragraph of how to raise a nephilim. Killed his niece. Not a great sign but he promises he won’t do that this time. 

You have Castiel; the angel expert. Is a literal angel. Has no experience with babies apart from that one night he babysat for his co-worker. Kind-of-sort-of-not-really a dad to a teenage girl. Only times he’s had to interact with a nephilim is when he’s been ordered to kill one, so, not a good sign but he promises he won’t do that this time. 

Together, they make do. But holy shit is raising Jack tough. 

He may not have a true form like Castiel but he does have wings and a true voice. Which he can’t control. So the tantrums. The tantrums. When he was born he made their ears bleed from the crying, and the lights exploded. Cas was miraculously able to calm him down before further damage was done, but the humans always make sure to have earplugs on them from then on. They also had to buy a large supply of lightbulbs to replace the ones in the bunker every time he cries. 

They had to baby proof the bunker. And I mean baby proof the hell out of the bunker. You think a normal house can be dangerous for a baby? The bunker is huge. And full of knives, guns, spellbooks, ancient artifacts, and just about a thousand other things that are not. good. to have around a baby. The baby proofing took a week. Two days of exploring the bunker and recording everything that needed to be baby-proofed, two shopping trips in a day to buy the things needed, and another three days of installing everything. Cas had to stay with Jack in his room while Mary, Sam and Dean did all the baby proofing. 

(also yes this is an AU in which Dean and Cas get their shit together, confess their feelings, build a house and raise Jack as his dads. the build a house part comes in when Jack is like 3)

The absolute freakout Dean had when Jack flew the first time. It happened when he was five months old, and Dean was changing his diaper. He turned around for a second to throw out the wipes. Heard the flap of wings, turned back around with a greeting for Cas on his lips, and Jack was gone. It went like this: Dean, staring at the empty table: ... Jack? Jack- *realisation* Cas! Cas, the baby’s gone! Cas! The baby can fly! Baby’s flying- Cas, appearing in front of him with a giggling Jack in his arms: yes, I am well aware Dean: oh my god- Jack: *disappears again* Dean: *yelps in alarm* Cas: *simply reaches up and just. plucks Jack out of thin air. one moment there’s empty air and the next Jack is just in Cas’ hands* Cas: this may become... difficult Dean, leaning over with his hands on his knees: I’m gonna have a heart attack

Turns out, baby Jack can heal! Which is what Mary discovered when once she had held Jack after coming back from a hunt with a few scrapes, they miraculously disappeared. 

You know when toddlers will get into the flour and leave a mess that you have to clean up for the next two hours? Yeah, well Jack got into a box of spellbooks and opened one which released monsters from fables. So that was a very panic-filled 6 hours that included Sam, Dean and Mary researching how to put them back / kill them while Cas held Jack close to make sure he didn’t fly away. Turns out, baby-proofing a bunker is pretty useless when said baby can fly through walls.

Apart from the many mishaps thathappened during raising Jack from infancy to toddlerhood, he’s just a weird kid. And kids are usually weird, but Jack is weird. 

Sam basically sprinted back to the car with a five-year-old Jack in his arms after Jack had held a woman’s hand in his at a playground and gently told her, “the events that lead to your father’s death were never your fault. He is in his Heaven now and although he is at peace, he begs that you make room in your heart for forgiveness of his wrong doings.” Yeah, they were very close to moving town when that happened. 

One day when he was 6, he walked outside into the back yard and just sat down in a random spot and stared at the ground. After a couple of minutes of glancing out the window to check on him, Dean walked up to him. Dean: whatchu up to, kid? Jack: there is a daisy that is going to grow and bloom here in 15 days. I’ve never seen a flower grow. I would like to watch it, if that’s okay? Dean: you want to sit here, in this exact spot, for 15 days so you can watch a flower grow? Jack, still not taking his eyes off the spot: yes Dean, who’s honestly used to this behaviour after witnessing it for the past two years: ... alright, sure. I’ll bring you dinner in a couple of hours, that sound good? Jack, finally looking up with a beaming smile: yes, thank you! (Cas and Dean did not let him sit in the same spot for 15 days. They did sit next to him for like two hours when the daisy did bloom, though. And despite the creak and buzzing ache in his knees and back, Dean can’t find it in himself to regret it.) 

he had a phase when he was 7 where he would say hi to everyone he came across. Everyone. Dean and Cas cannot make one shopping trip with him without everyone in that store knowing Jack’s name. He says bye when they leave too. 100% every time they get at least 5 people saying bye back. 

On the year he turned 8 they decided to enrol him in school. After weeks of telling him not be “weird” and teaching him to be as normal of a kid as he could be. When the 4 of them are confidant that he won’t go around using his powers, they enrol him. They did not anticipate the school calling him the first day, telling them that Jack had explained to the other kids that Santa isn’t real and they should “learn to not set themselves up for disappointment or believe what their parents say” which caused the entire class to burst out into tears. It was another “maybe we should move town” moment.

Another kid: my dad broke his leg. he has to walk with crutches now. sometimes he lets me use them! Jack: both my dads have died. one of them was torn to shreds by hellhounds who then dragged his soul down to hell where he was tortured for 40 years, but then father rescued him, that was how they met. but then father was blown to bits by my biological father. but then my grandfather resurrected him! they’re fine now.  Their teacher: uh, wow... Jack. sure sounds like you have some very vivid dreams Jack, remembering he’s not supposed to talk about this kind of stuff: ah, yes, of course... dreams. I woke up... crying. a lot. the dreams... scared me. 

I have... so many other little moments in my head, but this post is already so long so let me know if anyone wants more. 

[curlynerd]

What He Wants

Happy gift posting day for @starrynightdeancas gift exchange! My gift recipient is @bipridedean! She requested a Destiel, canon-adjacent fic, so here it is! I hope you like it! <3

Word Count: 2.6K Rating: G Summary: 5 times Dean said "I do" and 1 time he didn’t. Notes: Post canon, fix-it fic, oneshot, love confessions, Destiel wedding

Also read it on AO3!

1.

The first time it happens Sam is the only one to hear it. They’re alone in the bunker, surrounded by months and months of tireless research. But finally, finally, Dean thinks they’ve discovered how to get into the Empty.

Dean wants to push through the night and get a portal up and running as soon as possible. Sam insists they both go to bed, pleading with Dean that he won’t be able to concentrate on the spellwork to maintain it without at least a few hours of sleep.

Dean spends most of the night staring at the ceiling, thoughts racing through his head at a hundred miles an hour. This time tomorrow, he could have Cas back. This time tomorrow he can--Dean is almost afraid to think it, afraid that giving form to what he wants will somehow curse it and stop it from ever coming true. After all, the thing he wanted most before this was for Cas to love him back, and that didn’t exactly end rosy.

Still, as Dean finally closes his eyes, he allows himself a small, private wish. He hopes this will be the last time he falls asleep alone.

The next morning, they’re both expecting some sort of bump in the road, some rare ingredient or some missing incantation that will set them back even longer, keep Dean from seeing Cas again for God knows how long. But fortune is on their side, and Sam executes the spell flawlessly.

Dean is armed to the teeth with every weapon and protection spell they could collect on short notice. His plan for finding Cas and dragging him back home sits clearly at the front of his mind. His heart pounds in his ears, fast but steady and strong.

“You know, if this doesn’t work, you could get stuck there. I might not be able to open a new portal.” Sam looks at the pulsating mass of black that serves as the portal to the Empty. Worry is etched deeply into his forehead. “Do you really want to do this?”

Dean thinks of Cas’ face, the way he had smiled as he said he loved him. He thinks of how he was so close to having the one thing he really wanted. How Cas had wanted the same.

There’s no peace in loneliness.

Dean tightens his grip on his angel blade, his jaw set, his eyes determined. He’s ready to get his angel back. “Yeah. I do.”

2.

The second time it happens, it takes Cas by surprise. It’s been a week since Dean heroically pulled the love of his life from the Empty...and also since Dean lost all remaining courage. He choked. His unspoken response to Cas’ confession is a taut tension wire between them, keeping them inches apart, words suffocating in their tightly sealed mouths, both terrified to say anything and risk breaking something that can’t be mended.

Dean hates himself for it. It’s cowardice is what it is. It’s a lifetime of desperately fighting against the things that make him vulnerable. Against wanting things. Against believing anyone could love him. Even with Cas’ confession still crystal clear in his memories, Dean doubts.

He is deep into those self-deprecating thoughts when he finds Cas in the garage, struggling to figure out how to change a flat tire on his truck from a Youtube video.

“Cas? What’re you doing?”

Cas startles and immediately hunches his shoulders in guilt. He wasn’t expecting to be caught. “Dean.” He looks down at the lug wrench in his hand, and Dean can see the wheels spinning in his head, trying to concoct a cover story before he shrugs and gives up the truth. “I was trying to fix the truck.”

“You need to go somewhere? Cuz I can just drive you.” Dean’s heart pounds, his mouth going dry. Cas wouldn’t need to sneak around for a little errand.

Cas shakes his head and confirms Dean’s fears. “I wanted to have it ready. In case I needed to leave.”

“Leave?” Dean repeats, and his blood goes cold.

Cas deflates a little, resigned and sad. “I assume I’ll need to soon.”

“You can’t leave!” ‘Tell him!’ screams in Dean’s mind, but he can’t. He can’t. What if he’s wrong? What if Cas doesn’t love him like that? What if Cas doesn’t love him at all anymore? What if Dean screwed it up by staying silent and Cas realized he deserves to be with someone who can provide a simple answer to “I love you?” What if--

“I don’t want to,” Cas says softly. The pain is evident in his eyes as they flicker to his truck, like he expects to need to book it out of here at any moment. “But I wasn’t sure if you wanted me here after--” He cuts himself off and shakes his head. “I don’t want to overstay my welcome,” he amends.

“Cas, this is your home, same as me and Sam.” Cas doesn’t look so convinced. “C’mon man, you really think we don’t want you around?” Dean leans against the side of Cas’ truck to ground himself. “Cas, I want you here.” ‘I want more than that,’ he thinks, and it would be so easy to say what he really needs to say, but he can’t. He fights viciously with his own self-esteem, ripping at it, begging it to let him say more. “Please don’t leave,” he says, small and helpless, and it’s like moving a mountain to say that much.

Cas’ expression softens into longing. His hand clenches at his side, like he’s fighting the urge to reach out to Dean, but he smiles a soft, incredulous smile. “I can stay? You really mean it?”

Dean swallows thickly. A hundred words crowd his throat, fighting to get out, but his own fears win this round and keep them down. Instead all he can manage is a choked, “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

3.

The third time it happens, it takes them both by surprise. They’d gone on a hunt, just the two of them while Sam was visiting Eileen, and everything had gone sideways. What they thought was just a troublemaking demon turned out to be an extremely powerful witch, one with more than enough experience in Enochian magic to put Cas in serious danger. And of course Cas was reckless in his desire to protect Dean, and only managed to avoid getting killed by quick thinking and, to be honest, a helluva lot of luck.

The fight left Cas injured, and Dean pissed. “What the hell were you thinking!” he scolds at the end of a cold, silent drive back to the bunker.

“I did what I needed,” Cas shoots back with a steely glare.

“No, you didn’t need to go rushing in like that!” Dean’s worry leeches out as anger, the fear of losing Cas yet again clouding his reasoning that Dean himself would have died without Cas’ quick action. “You could have gotten a lot more hurt!”

“Why does it even matter to you?” Cas yells back, and it’s the note of hysterical bitterness darkening his words that makes Dean snap and say what he’s been hiding for far too long.

“Because I love you, you stubborn ass!”

The words freeze in the air between them, sharp and strong, wedging themself right where Dean’s anger was just a moment ago.

“You...love me?” Cas asks, his voice small, his eyes big.

And like that, Dean’s fears seem so foolish. Cas loves him. Cas died because just admitting he loves him was the happiest moment of his life. Cas has already done the hardest, scariest part for him. Dean doesn’t even have to fear Cas not feeling the same.

Silently, Dean takes a single step forward. Cas is frozen on the spot, staring at him like he doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry. He takes another step, and another, until he’s close enough to reach out and tug Cas into an embrace.

“Of course,” Dean breathes. He holds Cas close, tucking his chin over his shoulder and squeezing tight, like he never wants to let go. He doesn’t ever want to let go. Cas is slower to react, but when his arms finally wind around Dean, he breathes out a soft, sobbing gasp and clings to Dean. Dean turns his head to bury his nose in Cas’ hair. “Of course I do.”

4.

The fourth time it happens, Cas doesn’t even hear it. Cas found out about a nearby crafts fair, and all it took was one particularly soulful look from those big blue eyes of his, and Dean was driving them a full hour and a half away to look at homemade pottery and local honey and overpriced tacky mesh wreaths and pretending that the entire atmosphere of the place wasn’t giving him hives.

Cas is having a blast. Dean is carrying bags and lurking in the shadiest spots he can find away from the summer heat while Cas browses. Cas is having an animated conversation about beekeeping with a honey merchant when Dean ducks into a large tent filled with the kind of flowy, bedazzled, polyester shirts he thinks of as “PTA Chic” because they also happen to have a large fan blowing.

“Lookin’ for something in particular, sugar?” The tent owner saunters over to Dean, her Southern accent thick and her top scandalously low. She’s stunningly pretty, and Dean’s eyes and smile light up out of a lifetime of habit. She responds in kind, dragging her eyes down, then back up Dean’s body. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were lookin’ for more than clothes.”

Dean chuckles and flashes her his best charming, but chagrined smile. He feels a little guilty for leading her on, and he doesn’t want to hurt her feelings. “Oh sweetheart, if I were single, I’d gladly take you up on that offer, but I’ve already got my special someone.” Dean nods to the honey booth next door.

Her eyes trail over to where Dean gestured, and for a split second her brow furrows in confusion before she laughs just a little, more incredulous than cruel. “You really want someone like that over me?”

Dean looks over at Cas. And, yeah, Dean gets the question. He’s a grown-ass man wearing cargo shorts, carrying a canvas bag with the most obnoxious sunglasses-wearing beach ball Dean has ever seen, and his hair looks like it's been electrocuted. Dean grins, feeling a rush of fondness for his dorky, criminally unfashionable angel.

“Yeah,” he says softly, without an ounce of hesitation. There’s no one else in the world for him but Cas. “Yeah, I do.”

5.

The fifth time Dean says it, Cas is the only other person around for miles. He drags Cas out of bed bright and early one Saturday, forcing him into the car before he’s even fully finished his coffee. Cas allows it, only because he can tell Dean is positively vibrating with nervous energy. Dean brushes off all of his prying questions during the long drive until they finally arrive at a small, peaceful meadow in the middle of nowhere.

He’s packed a lunch, because ostensibly this outing is meant to be a picnic, even though Cas is suspicious on that fact alone. Dean never picnics. It doesn’t really matter though, because Dean is too nervous to even consider eating.

“So why are we really here?” Cas asks after a few minutes of nibbling at his chips. Dean’s sandwich lays untouched on the blanket.

Dean steels his nerve and takes a deep breath. “Do you know where this is?” he asks, fighting the jittery bouncing of his heartbeat to keep his voice steady.

Cas nods. “This is where I returned when Jack resurrected me.” He looks around, smiling down at the flowers surrounding the two of them. The windmill behind him creaks softly in the wind.

“And where I spread your ashes.” Dean’s fidgeting fingers find a frayed edge on the blanket, and he starts picking at it.

Cas nods again and remains silent, patiently waiting for Dean to find the rest of his words.

“And it’s…” Dean pulls a thread out of the blanket and lets it fly away in the wind. “This is where I realized I love you. I’m an idiot who didn’t even realize how much I loved you until after you were gone.”

Cas leans forward and rests his hand on Dean’s knee, warm and reassuring. Dean continues, “At the time I’d thought, ‘I can’t do this. I don’t want to live without him.’ Which was stupid because you were already dead. It didn’t matter what I wanted.”

Cas squeezes his knee. His eyes are gentle. “We’re both okay now.”

Dean’s heart warms. “Yeah. We are. But you know I...That feeling’s never gone away. You and me? I want us to be forever.” Dean reaches into his pocket. There’s no small velvet box, no shimmering diamonds, just a thick band of practical silver he found at a pawn shop. He looks down at the ring with a tender smile. “Man, never in a million years did I think I’d ever be doing this,” he marvels, and when he looks up, Cas’ eyes are wide with surprise.

“Dean?” His normally steady voice wavers.

Dean reaches for Cas’ face, his thumb gently stroking across his cheek. He holds up the ring. “What do you say, Cas? Wanna go legit about this?”

Cas’ expression is impossibly soft, eyes overflowing with love and devotion. He swallows thickly around a lump in his throat and takes the ring from Dean. He slides it onto his finger and stares at it like it’s his own personal miracle.

“You’re serious, Dean? You really want to get married?”

Dean smiles as he leans in close. Just before he kisses his new fiance, he whispers, “Of course I do.”

6.

The sun is setting, casting long shadows down the sand. The shifting winds coming from the sea carry a chill, making the little crowd gathered around them draw their jackets close and huddle together, but the smiles on their faces are nothing but warm. There’s no altar. No stage. No decorations. Just Cas and Dean, standing in front of the ocean, wearing their favorite flannels and jeans, two bright yellow black-eyed susans pinned to their shirts--stolen right out of someone’s garden on their way to the beach.

They didn’t even bother trying to put out chairs for the ceremony, not knowing how many of their friends and family would be able to make the long drive to see Dean get hitched to his angel, but in the end it’s a good thing, because damn near everyone came, and they need to crowd in close to hear them over the wind.

It’s completely and utterly perfect.

Dean grins, unable to take his eyes off Cas while Donna, the only member of his overly-emotional family he trusts not to bawl her eyes out through the ceremony, finishes the last of their vows.

“Do you, Castiel, take Dean Winchester to be your, well, not so lawfully wedded husband?”

There’s a twitter of laughter from the crowd. Cas smiles a sweet, crooked smile and squeezes Dean’s hand. “I do.” His voice is soft, meant for Dean’s ears only, because Dean is the only one his promise matters to.

“And do you, Dean Winchester, FBI’s Most Wanted, thrice dead criminal, and the terribly generous gentleman who will surely be covering our drinks on this celebratory evening, take Castiel to be your husband?”

Dean looks at Cas. Even in the dim light of the setting sun, his eyes are impossibly blue. His smile is so warm Dean knows he’ll never feel cold again, so long as he can see it every day. Dean beams back and proclaims loud enough for everyone on the beach to hear, “Oh hell yes!”

[mersuperwholocked-lowlife]

Can’t Forgive or Forget

Word Count: 2,030

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, John Winchester, Mary Winchester, OC Characters, Reader

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Sister!Reader

Warnings: angst, possibly small fluff? tw: trauma, nightmares

A/N: ---

Masterlist     Link to Part One

You could hear loud banging on the hotel door as you whimpered softly, wrapping your arms around yourself as you backed away from the door.

It was pitch black outside, as well as inside the room. Tears were streaming down your face as you tried to control your breathing.

“Open the fucking door!” you could hear John’s voice yelling at you as you cried softly.

Your heart was racing as you put your hands on your head, curling up into a ball as you tried to keep John’s voice out of your head.

“This isn’t real, this isn't real,” you cried softly, trying to calm yourself as you scrunched your eyes tightly.

“This isn't real,” you heard the door being pushed open as you let out a small cry.

---

“(Y/N)?! (Y/N)!” you jumped up in your bed, Dean had his hands on your shoulder, shaking you.

“What?” you gasped, sitting up.

“You were crying in your sleep,” your face dropped slightly as you sniffled softly.

“Why did you let me fall asleep?” you said.

“Because you haven't slept in weeks,” he replied.

You wrapped your arms around yourself before clearing your throat, getting off the bed.

“Is Sam back yet?” you asked.

“(Y/N),” Dean started.

“I wonder what’s taking him so long,” you walked to the door, looking out the window as Dean called your name once again.

“We need to talk about this,” he crossed his arms.

“There's nothing to talk about,” you shrugged.

After John passed away all feelings and memories came to haunt you every day and every night. You tried your best to stay awake for as long as you could, and it began to affect you quickly. It was harder to focus on hunts. Your aim was definitely messed up, you even had trouble staying still.

Sam and Dean always tried to talk to you, or help you, but you couldn't bring yourself to say it. They didn't deserve the burden of knowing what was going in your head, and know about all your worries and pain. You only saw yourself as broken, only a shell of what you used to be, and it was all your fault.

Dean sat on the edge of the bed, with a mix of worry, anger on his face as he looked at you.

“I’m gonna go for a run,” you said.

“It’s 10 PM,” he replied.

You shrugged, walking towards the bathroom to go change, while you could feel the disappointment radiating off of Dean.

“Keep your phone on,” he said.

You nodded softly, closing the door behind you.

---

“(Y/N)! Open the door, come on!” you could hear Dean yelling from the other side as you held back your cries, wrapping your arms around your head.

Depending on the point of view, you were getting better, or you were getting worse. The nightmares were worse, all the fear and pain had intensified, but your dad’s actions and abuse towards you came to light. 

Everything was going to be okay, or so you kept telling yourself. Then, Sam died. Dean beat you to save him, selling his soul. Fighting the yellow-eyed demon was especially hard, the three of you beaten and broken as you tried to make yourself strong. 

Then your father reappeared like a ghost. You instantly tensed up, out of fear. Your bones were aching, as well as the rest of your body, before you held in your cries, reaching for the colt and putting a final end to the demon.

“(Y/N), I know it was hard, but-” he went quiet again before you heard him sigh.

“If you don't open the door in ten seconds, (Y/N/N), I’m gonna have to pick the lock. Save us both the trouble, please,” his voice was softer than before as you let out a breath, slowly walking to the door.

It’s not Dad, Dad’s dead

You opened the door for Dean, as he rushed to wrap his arms around you, while you buried your face into his arms, crying softly.

---

“You’ve been having these nightmares since Dad died?” Dean sat down in front of you, while you looked down at your hands, watching them shaking.

“N-No, they… They started after we went t-to the roadhouse… Ellen was just praising Dad for e-everything he did a-and…” you stopped speaking, trying to hold in your cries as Dean lifted your face slightly, wiping your tears.

“W-Why did he hate me so much?” you cried softly.

“I don’t know why he treated you like that, (Y/N/N), but he can’t do it again. He won’t ever hurt you again,” Dean put his arm around your shoulder, sitting next to you as he pulled you in.

“I’m sorry I keep messing up our hunts,” you whispered softly.

“Well, lucky for you, we decided we’re gonna take a small break,” you lifted your head slightly to look at Dean.

“Why?” you asked.

“Well, Sammy and I think we deserve a break. What do you think?” he asked.

You nodded softly as he kissed your forehead.

“It’s my last year, so of course I’d want to spend some time with my pain-in-the-ass younger siblings,” he teased as you smacked his arm.

“Why did you have to sell your soul?” you scoffed.

“I needed to save Sam,” he replied.

“You didn't have to kill yourself to do it,” you muttered.

“You'll understand one day,” he said.

After sitting with Dean for some time, you heard his phone go off, receiving a text from Sam.

“He wants to get drinks. Are you up for it?” he asked.

You shook your head before sitting up.

“I think I’m gonna try to sleep,” you said.

“...Okay. We’ll be back soon. Bobby’s downstairs,” he said.

You nodded, pushing yourself under the covers before Dean kissed your forehead once more, receiving a soft smile from you before he left your room.

---

“None of us should be calm, Dean! You’re wanted! I’m supposed to be dead, and Sam is on stage drinking kale smoothies!” you yelled at Dean as the four of you left the bunker, walking into town.

As the years passed, you began recovering from the trauma and scars that John left you, relying on Sam and Dean greatly. You were better now, everything was okay. You felt better than you’d felt in your entire life, and in the middle of all this craziness, you found yourself pregnant a year ago.

Sam and Dean were more than excited to become uncles and were ready to make having a kid around work for all three of you.

“Okay, calm down,” Dean said.

“Don’t tell me to fucking calm down, Dean!” you held your child, caressing her back as you paced in front of Sam and Dean.

“Look, we get it. It’s scary, but… what can we do about it?” Sam tried to calm you as you shook your head.

“Dean can break the pearl,” you walked towards Dean as he held up his arms defensively, stepping away from you.

“Okay, I know you hate this, but we can’t. Not yet. For Mom’s sake,” Dean defended.

“Dean, Mom’s in love with the idea of Dad. She doesn't know how much he changed after she died,” you corrected.

“Well, then are you gonna tell her?” Sam crossed his arms, raising his eyebrow.

“Sam shut the hell up,” you clenched your jaw.

“I don't love this either, and if Mom wasn’t here… but she is here. We’re going to pretend, just for the night,” Sam replied.

You closed your eyes tightly, shaking your head.

Sam walked next to you, before taking Nicole out of your arms.

“Sam, what are you-” you started.

“I saw some cute baby shoes that I want to get with her,” he began walking away from you and Dean as you scoffed.

“Sam, she isn't even a year old yet. She doesn't know how to walk!” you replied, annoyed.

“It’s never too early, I’ll see you guys later,” he continued walking away as you sighed, running your fingers through your hair.

“I know this is hard, okay?” you began walking away from Dean as he followed you.

“Mom deserves the truth, but we’re not gonna tell her now. Not while she’s there with Dad. You don’t think she deserves to be happy? Be with him again?” Dean asked you.

“Dean…” you whined.

“Come on, (Y/N),” you could see the look in Dean’s face.

He said Mary wants this, but you knew he did too. There was a time before Mary died where John didn't hurt you, and you were a picture-perfect family. Only Dean remembered. After everything that happened within the past few years, you wanted him to be happy, he deserved it.

You sighed, nodding your head.

“Thank you,” he let out a breath of relief.

“But that man is going nowhere near my baby,” you warned as he nodded.

The two of you continued to make your way to the shops, getting the groceries.

---

You kept to yourself for most of the night, feeling your heart racing as you bounced your leg. The night was filled with laughter and joy. Sam and Dean were happy, John was happy, Mary was happy and you were still scared, as you had been for the whole night.

You found your excuse to leave, saying it was time for Nicole to go to bed. You waved a quick goodbye, picking her up as you went to your room, letting out a sigh. You made it through the night.

You heard footsteps approaching you, while you looked up, seeing John making his way to the bedroom door,

standing there as he led against the doorframe.

“It’s difficult, seeing you all grown up like this,” he started.

You kept your back to him, cradling Nicole in your arms as you closed your eyes, taking deep breaths.

He wouldn't hurt you, not now.

“Yeah,” you said softly.

You could feel his eyes on you as you laid Nicole down in her cradle.

“You know, you haven't said much tonight,” he started.

“Sam and Dean told me everything about them, but you… you haven't talked to me. How did life treat you after I died?” he asked.

You clenched your jaw, hiding your emotions as you turned to face him.

“Terribly,” you said.

You could see the look of shock on his face as you sighed.

“I-I had nightmares, I was in pain all the time,” you shook your head.

“I didn't-” he started.

“Nightmares that you caused,” you dug your nails into your palm, seeing his face soften.

“What do you mean?” he frowned.

“Are you… Do you not remember all the bruises you gave me? A-All the wounds, all the scars? Do you not remember abusing me?” you tried to hide your anger as you took a step closer to him.

“Oh, come one. I never abused you, (Y/N),” he started.

“You won’t even admit it to yourself. Well, sorry I’ve been distant, and sorry I haven't talked to you all night, but I can't find it in my heart to forget what you did, and I most certainly can’t forgive it. I hate you, so, so much.”

“You know I never meant to hurt you-”

“I don't want to hear it. The only reason I didn't tell Mom what happened, is because Sam and Dean told me not to. They want to protect your image in her head,” you spat.

You could see a pained expression on his face.

“I’m sorry,” he replied.

You didn't reply, instead, you looked away, keeping your gaze off of him while you could feel hot tears rushing to your eyes. You watched as he walked away, closing the door behind him as you collapsed onto your bed, burying your face in your pillows as you cried softly.

All memories and all the pain came rushing back, hurting you more and more than you could ever think it would. You remembered your bruises, you remembered your scars, you remembered the feeling of hating yourself constantly, all because of him.

But now it was over, and now he was gone.

[soysaucecas]

i’ll lend you this, i’ll lend you that (ao3)

1k, t4t samjess’s first meeting at stanford the rhonda bit is inspired veryyy heavily by this fanart by @skepticalfrog written for @spnprideweek day 1: coming out

cw for some unintentional misgendering

-

Sam brings a journal to Stanford to record the names and faces of everyone she meets. This is going to be her home for the next four years—no packing bags in the middle of the night or saying hasty goodbyes to half-baked friendships she’ll never find again. The people she meets are here to stay. She’s here to stay.

California’s hot in August (though not as hot as some of the places Sam’s been), so Sam ties their hair up. They’re not sure how out they plan to be here yet; honestly, they’ve been going back and forth about it every night for weeks, but some guys have ponytails, so it shouldn’t be too risky. Sam takes another quick look at the students in their first day orientation group. Some of the students look super preppy, but there’s plenty in extremely casual wear, plus some scene kids. She sees a few people with outrageously-dyed hair, and one guy who seems to be wearing lipstick. No one is bothering him, nor is anyone shooting her looks yet, and it’s still hot even with their hair up. Can she…?

With a slight rush of adrenaline, Sam takes the bottom of their shirt and ties it off at their waist. Rhonda Hurley had shown them how to make any shirt into a makeshift crop top years ago, and Sam’s muscle memory follows her simple instructions well, even if their hands are shaking a little. It’d been one of the many bits of wisdom Rhonda had imparted on Sam during the one year she was in Sam and Dean’s lives, bits of wisdom she’d always dropped with a small smile that seemed to say, “just for us girls, huh?” Sam doesn’t feel entirely like a girl most of the time, but the word always felt right coming from Rhonda, who was always okay with Sam crashing her and Dean’s dates and regularly called Sam her trans sister-in-arms.

Alyssa, the orientation leader and tour guide, lets them take a ten-minute break for water, bathrooms, and socializing. Sam gets the names, faces, and cell numbers of Sarayu and Brady, though her sketches end up being far less detailed than she’d like. Looking down at her first filled page, she finds that it reminds her a little of John’s hunting journal. The thought makes them shudder. No more hunting, no more monsters. Sam’s not going to kill anyone in this book. As soon as they can borrow someone’s stationery, they’re going to draw colorful borders around each entry, borders so floral they’d make the old man gag.

“Five minutes left!” Alyssa says cheerily. “Just to give you a little taste of what’s to come, we’ll be going to Meyer after this.” She delivers the next line like a joke, but no one really laughs—“Don’t tell anyone this, but it’s actually my least favorite library.”

“She’s perky, isn’t she?” someone next to Sam whispers. Sam turns, confused, and their neighbor inclines a head towards Alyssa. Sam stifles a startled giggle. The speaker appears to be a blonde girl, pretty, and wearing a clearly well-loved friendship bracelet. She gestures at Sam’s notebook, which is still open. “Art major?”

Sam, flattered, shakes their head. “No, pre-law. This is just sort of… a phonebook. I have people’s names and numbers and what they look like in case I forget who they are.”

“Hm. Very cool,” Pretty Girl says. “Can I be next?”

“Sure,” Sam says. “What’s your name?” She tells her, and Sam asks, “Is that with an I-E at the end or just a Y?”

Jessie or Jessy chews on her lip, as if considering something. Her gaze returns to Sam’s midriff (Sam resists the urge to cover up), and seems to come to a decision. “Just… just with an E. J-E-S-S-E. Jess for short.”

Sam tries not to react, but they clearly do a bad job of it, because Jesse steps back a little. “Is that a problem?” he(?) asks.

Sam shakes her head rapidly and starts scribbling the name down like her speed might indicate her acceptance. “No, no, definitely not. I think… I think that’s really cool, actually. Did you”—there are definitely better ways to ask this, but oh well—“did you pick it yourself?”

Jesse relaxes immediately. “It was a collaborative effort.”

“Got it. Phone number?”

Jesse rattles off a cell, then asks, “What about you? What’s your name?”

“Me? I’m Sam.”

“Short for Samuel?”

Sam considers agreeing; after all, that is what it says on their birth certificate, but they stop at the last moment. “Short for—short for Samantha, actually.” The flash of recognition in Jesse’s eyes is both thrilling and terrifying. Sam quickly adds, “But maybe don’t go spreading that around.”

Jesse makes a lips-sealed gesture, eyes dead serious. Sam laughs gratefully.

“So,” Sam says, as quietly as she can, “do you—do you go by ‘he,’ or by ‘she,’ or—”

Jesse unzips his(?) mouth before replying, “Any of the above? Though… kind of like you said, you should probably stick to ‘she’ when there’s unfamiliar people around.”

“Deal.” Sam sticks out her hand, and the two of them shake on it. Jesse holds on a little longer than necessary, a small smile playing at his lips.

“It’s good to meet you, Sam. Really, what are the chances?”

Sam considers the question. “Pretty low. I didn’t know if I would find any tr—well, any people like me at Stanford.”

Jess nods. “I wasn’t that hopeless, but I definitely didn’t think it would happen day one. It is college, though. And California.”

Sam’s not certain what the significance of either of those things are, but before she can ask, Alyssa is calling the group back together. The rest of the students get back in formation behind her. Sam looks down at the second page of her notebook, which just has “Jesse” and a phone number written on it—no portrait yet. Damn. Though, Sam thinks, looking up at Jess walking ahead of them, maybe that’s a face she won’t need help remembering.

[occult-castiel]

The Same Page

This is my @destielsecretsanta2020 gift for @eclypseaf!!! The request was open, but bonus points for Miracle being present. So I wrote some post empty rescue fic!

This one honestly gave me a really hard time and I have no idea why. I hope you like it and have has an awesome christmas!

[Ao3 Link]

The portal spits them out in the dungeon.

Dean stumbles out first, a half step ahead of Cas. Human, malleable, and very much alive with one of the little dude's arms draped over Dean's shoulder.

Cas stumbles forward. Dean shoots an arm out in front of him, places a hand firmly against his chest. He maneuvers his other arms under his trenchcoat, grips his side firm.

His skins almost cool to the touch — much too cold to be safe. Not for a human, especially a brand new one.

And what if he's sick? Or gets sick and can't get better? Without his grace, there's a whole new set of worries. A bad flu that gets worse until he's gone, a hunt going wrong, fucking cancer. Heart disease kills pretty much everyone, doesn't it?

He takes a deep breath and focuses on the gentle thud of Cas' heart against his palm.

The last eight months haven't been easy. Not between the alcohol Sam eventually cut him off from, and the hunts getting sparse, and Jack being terrifying and gone until he wasn't.

Cas lulls his head to the side. His inky heart sticks to his forehead, and his blueberry-sweet eyes are unfocused but still manage to catch Dean's.

It's achingly familiar, and he smiles easy. "Hey there, sunshine."

Cas pinches his brows together as his head swims to stay upright. He slurs through some half-baked, nonsense question about coral reef bleaching, and Dean's so relieved he laughs.

Cas smiles at the sound, dazed and feather-light, but the joy is unmistakable.

It's the best thing Dean's ever seen. Fuck, he missed him. Missed him so much he didn't know what to do with himself.

Cas winces — what little help he was giving Dean in holding him up falls. He makes up the difference quick. Weak fingers curl around Dean's wrist.

"Sorry —"

"S'okay. Gonna —" he swallows hard. Tries to shove away the distinct pin-prick in his tear ducts that always means he needs to man the hell up. "Gonna get you to a bed, okay?"

Cas grunts, a pitiful noise that's mostly air and entirely feeble. "Tired."

"Rest then. It ain't far. I gotcha, buddy."

When he nods, his hair brushes Dean's neck.

It's not well thought out. The lack of work and overload of carbs haven't done Dean's muscles any favors. His joints creak and protest every step, but his room isn't far, and he'd be damned before he let's Cas feel like he has to do anything alone this time.

Miracle hops off the bed the moment the door opens.

Dean lays Cas on top of the bunched up blanket. Once he's down, Dean slowly works the trencoast and suit jacket off, his hands careful as they trail across the thin cotton of his shirt.

Cas shivers, and Dean wrestles to tug the blanket out from under him, Miracle nuzzling the side of his leg the whole time.

She's probably hungry. Or just wants attention. He hasn't exactly been available the last couple weeks, too busy with his nose in piles of research. But it all payed off.

Cas grimaces in his sleep, and it twists the cords in Dean's chest. He reaches his hand out and ghosts his fingers across the sweat-stained hair stuck to his skin, gently pushing it to the side.

He'd said it once, not more than a month ago, in the darkness of his room, Miracle tucked as close as he could get her.

He said he loved me, and I — I didn't say it back. But I do. God I do.

Dean trails his hand from his forehead to the flushed pillow of his cheeks. The other knuckles roughly at his eyes and comes back wet.

He has no god damn idea what he wouldve done without Miracle to talk to. Cause he could never get it out to Sam. Not those last moments. Not what Cas really means to him. Always too close to an edge of something larger than any apocalypse they've ever dealt with.

He traces down low enough to brush across Cas' wrist, the pained look still on his face.

Dean swallows, his heart hammers hard in his throat. Timid even though the guy is unconscious, Dean grabs his hand.

His mind blanks. Turns to complete static — a jumble of half-formed thoughts about every reason he ever told himself not to.

He's an angel. The worlds ending. Always ending. He doesn't feel that way. Can't, the equipment for it's not there. It's why he leaves, isn't it? And what the fuck could ever hope to start when it's all always falling apart? When they could fall apart.

Everyone leaves.

A flash of cold prickles down his back, and he tries to takes a deep breath. It goes down ragged. There was something he read once, about picking out a sense.

Cas' breath, slow and steady. The clink of Mircale's claws on the floor. A muted buzz from the florescent lights in the hall.

He breaths again, a little easier. His fingers curls into Cas' palm, and his finger twitch against Dean in response. The dent in his brows relax, his jaw goes slack.

"S'okay Cas." He squeezes. "Just... be okay."

When his phone rings, dumped and forgotten on the other side of the room, he isn't quite sure how to let go. Like the ligaments in his hand have cemented in place, forgotten the muscle memory to make the movements happen.

When the second call comes through, Cas mumbles something. Dean's shoulder slack, and he pulls his hands back, clammy and with a slight tremor.

It's Sam. There's a small tug of guilt — he should've called him the moment he put Cas down. He knows he would've been worried sick if Sam was the one that had to go.

Sam's relieved too, promises to buy stuff for dinner on his way back from where Dean went in the Empty about fifty miles out. And he must hear something in his voice, because he stresses to go watch a movie or something and let Cas sleep it off.

Of course he's right. They knew Cas would be out cold. But leaving the room is still hard, and he lingers in the doorway until he gets a good look at Miracle's mess of tangled fur.

He hasn't brushed her hair, since that's practically what the fur is, in weeks.

"C'mon girl."

He grabs the brush from the bedside table, casts on last look at Cas, and takes Miracle to the TV room.

She hops on the couch next to him, tail thumping with excitement.

"You wanna get pretty to meet Cas later?"

She nuzzles his hand, sticks her nose against the brush, and a little bit of the stress from today lightens up.

He flips on some netflix show about baking food, and talks to Miracle as he starts in on her snout.

It's ritualistic to touch on whatevers going on with her, at this point.

As her fur smooths, he tells her about the Empty. Its piss-poor lighting, the mind boggling way directions work, how it has this awful burnt-licorice and gasoline stench clung to the nothingness of its everything.

It kinda makes his head hurt.

Almost two full episodes in, he has all her fur neat and tidy, and his little monologue has circled back to Cas. She'd know a lot about him if she could talk.

"It's hard to believe he's really back. And — and maybe it'll be good. We could, I dunno, get you a yard?" He nods, smiles. "Yeah, I bet your spoiled ass would like that. The bunker ain't a place for pets."

Miracle leaps from the couch, and someone clears their throat from the door.

Cas stands in the doorway, hunched in on himself. Dark strands of hair twist up in random directions, and the casual clothes Dean left him fit snugly.

He looks... comfortable. Like he slipped into humanity ages ago, not this afternoon.

"Cas."

He tilts his lips up, tight and sheepish. "I see you have a dog now."

"Yeah. Miracle. She uh — she helped me." He motions vaguely to his head. "Might not be batting a hundred up here if not for her."

Cas glances down at her, and the tense smile softens. "I'm very grateful then."

Almost reverent, he scratches the side of her ear.

Dean shakes his head. Blinks. Two things he never thought he'd see side by side mixed with the insanity of the day make none of this seem real.

Deep breath.

"She can — she can be there for you too," Dean says. "If you need it. Dogs are great listeners. Even the Madonna types like this one."

Cas gives a contemplative hum. "They are both blonde."

He puffs a breath of air. It's easy to forget Cas actually knows what he's talking about now, sometimes. Even if he does still miss the point by a mile.

"It was your turn."

Cas raises an eyebrow.

"To, uh, pick a movie." He motions to the seat next to him. "If you want."

Cas runs his bottom lip between his teeth and doesn't look at Dean. Doesn't say anything either. Just nods, walks over, and sinks into the couch.

It's a respectable distance. Close enough Dean would be able to sense him, far enough away they won't touch.

Miracle curls up on the other side of Cas, head flopped on his lap, right next to his balled up hands.

"Is it over?" His voice is small.

Dean doesn't have to ask. "Chuck isn't aproblem anymore." Cas sighs, slinks down bonelessly into the cushions. "We figured it out, took his powers. Jack's fixing up Heaven with it. Says he's gunna do that, find a way to put Amara back together, and then come home."

"Good. I don't think I'm up to fighting standards." He rolls his head to the side. They're close enough Dean can make out each muscle in his neck when he swallows. "You didn't have to save me, Dean. I'd — made peace with that fate."

It's bullshit. It's bullshit and Cas has to know it. He almost tells him a much, but if he can't have that talk now, then he never will.

He licks his lips. It doesn't help the dryness.

"Did you mean it?"

It's a dumb question, but one he needs answered.

Cas doesn't miss a beat. "That and more." The serenity in his words is endearing as it is cutting when he adds, "But we don't have to address it. I don't want to make you uncomfortable."

It's Dean's turn to melt with relief. "Good — that's good."

Cas winces. "I understand if you'd like some space —"

He starts to stand up, and panic seizes Dean's chest like a vice grip. He grabs his wrist and Cas freezes.

"No! God no. Cas, it — it wasn't supposed to happen like that."

He looks confused, before some amount of understanding smoothes out some of the worried lines in his face. His eyes flick down to Dean's mouth for an instant. "How was it supposed to happen, then?"

"I thought, maybe on a hunt? Or — I don't know. Just... " some place I could say it back.

Its not good enough, saying it without saying it. Cas gave a speech. He saved Dean's life, saved the god damn world. All without knowing.

He shakes his head. Starts again. He had enough practice between thoughts he couldn't shove away and late night pet-therapy. "I thought you knew. Hell, I've been scared everyone knows. And if they did, you did too, right?"

"Subtly isn't always my strongest suit."

He laughs, and it's almost on the wrong side of sane. "Don't I know it."

He can do direct.

Slow enough that Cas has time to pull back, he runs his hand up his arm, cradles it against the back of Cas' neck. He leans across the small distance and kisses him.

It's clumsy and unsure, and Cas places a skittish hand on Dean's side like he's not sure what he's allowed to have even now, but their lips mesh together in a way that feels better than anything he can remember.

When they part, he's not sure either one of them are breathing. And he can't look at Cas, not when he says it. Not yet. So he presses their foreheads together, keeps his eyes fully lidded.

"I don't know how you could think you aren't worth saving. You — you're it for me."

"Dean —"

He shakes his head, and the tips of their noses brush. "I love you more than I know what to do with. You know that right?"

Bewildered, Cas says, "I didn't."

"Yean, well. Now you do."

He scoots back in place, flushed firm against the cushion. Their hands tangle together, and their knees are touching, and it's too much and not enough. But mostly not enough. Dean dares a glance over. Cas is staring at their hands, a pleased smile on his face.

And they're on the same page.

"I think you said something about a yard when I walked in?"

Instead of answering he says, "We should retire. I'm too old for this shit."

"Entirely?"

Dean shrugs. "A hunt here and there wouldn't hurt I guess."

"We'll talk about it later." He reaches over him, grabs the remote. "I think you said it was my turn?"

Dean grins, full and toothy. "Yeah, just no more romcoms, dude. I can only take so many."

Cas nods, curt and serious. "Of course."

He does anyway, and it's the best shitty movie Dean's ever seen.

[holylulusworld]

The Roommate (5) - Happy together

Summary: You and John belong together.

Pairing: AU John Winchester x fem!Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Bobby Singer, OFC Sharon

Warnings: language, angst, plus sized reader, mentions of sex, flirty John, fluff, cuddling & snuggling, implied smut

A/N: The idea for plot and some details came from @shooterere per request.

Divider by @firefly-graphics​​​

The Roommate masterlist

“So, are you healthy again,” Dean sits on your desk, to watch you hastily thumb through a few contracts. “Y/N, I asked you a question.”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you squeak, eyes drifting toward John walk into your office, smirking like someone who stole your virginity not days ago. “Perfectly fine.”

“You’ve got to be shitting me,” muttering John’s eldest son gets up from your desk to warily watch his father round your desk to hand you another contract. “You fucked!”

“What?” you choke on air, looking at John with wide, fearful eyes.

“I can smell the tension and you look like dad marked your whole body with his teeth,” pointing at the bite mark on your neck, the one you tried to poorly hide with a scarf Dean smirks.

“I got no clue what you are talking about,” John grumbles, sitting on your desk, fingers dancing over your thigh. “And if I tasted her sweetness, it’s mine from now on.”

“Naughty girl got her hands on my dad. Good job, sweetheart,” Dean offers you a high-five. “Don’t let him get away with stealing your sweetness, keep him at your house and never stop riding his dick.”

“Dean!” you tut. “Not so loud. I-I didn’t ride his dick!”

“Dad,” Dean gives his father a stern look, but his lips curve into a dirty grin. “Let that girl ride dick. Give her what she needs.”

“Son, I swear I’ll kill you and make it look like an accident if you don’t stop right now,” threatening his son John watches you intensely.

You burst into laughter when Dean looks at you like a kicked puppy. “Aw, don’t hurt Dean. He’s lonely and begs for attention.”

“’m not,” Dean protests. “Maybe I’m simply happy my father finally got laid. He won’t be grumpy anymore, lucky bastard.” ushering out of the room before his father can fulfill his promise to kill him, Dean smirks. “I’m gonna tell Sammy I won the bet. Thank you for fifty bucks.”

“Bet?” you cock your head to look at Dean.

“Yeah, I said dad won’t make it another week. Sammy said he’ll wait two more weeks. Bobby grumbled something about that this is none of our fucking business but lost anyway.”

“That fucker,” John groans when you giggle again. “That’s not funny. My son’s made bets on my sex life.”

“What’s all this?” looking at the bouquet of red roses you wonder why John smiles at you. “John?”

“It’s our three months anniversary,” he explains. “I know it’s not an anniversary people usually celebrate but I felt like bringing you flowers today, doll.”

“John, the flowers are beautiful, but you didn’t have to buy them for me,” your heart flutters when John exclaims he couldn’t stop thinking about you when he saw the roses. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, doll,” John pecks your cheek, groaning when he hears Dean clear his throat behind his back.

“Sorry to disturb your quickie at Y/N’s office but I need help with the new customer. That guy drives me nuts. He refuses to let me open the hood. I tried to explain to him that I can’t find out what’s wrong with his car without having a look at the engine.”

“Fine, give me a few minutes and I’ll talk to that douche. What’s wrong with people lately. Who comes to a mechanic only to refuse to let them open the hood of his car?”

“Sir, if you don’t want us to repair your car, you are free to go and look for someone else,” John grunts. For half an hour he tried to convince his latest customer to open the hood of his car for Dean or Bobby.

“I came out here,” the man retorts, “only for you to not knowing how to find out what's wrong with my car.”

“I told you an hour ago that your car sounds like there is nothing wrong with the engine. The noises it makes tells me all I need to know, but I can’t repair it without opening the hood,” Dean lost his patience minutes ago and only wants to get rid of the annoying customer.

“Boss, there’s someone called Jim on the phone, he says his car is broken,” you poke your head out of the window to call for your boss. “Do you have a minute, John?”

“What did you say?” John looks in your direction, furrowing his brows as he didn’t get what you said. “Can you come out, doll?”

“Just a minute, boss,” you give John a thumb up before closing the window.

“Pastor Jim said it looks like the engine overheated,” you explain. “Shall I call him back and tell him you’ve got no time.” glancing at the customer you furrow your brows. “That guy, I know him.”

“You do?” John wonders, looking over his shoulder before he leads you a few steps away. “How come that you know him?”

“That guy, he’s an asshole,” you huff. “Marcy, one of my colleagues, kicked him out once. He came to our library every Thursday only to walk around, sneering at anyone who wanted to help him, and then, he just left, slamming the door shut.”

“Sonofabitch!” Dean yells, throwing his hands up in surrender and you snicker at his outburst.

“Kathy from the shop around the corner told us he came to her shop, looked around, grunted at her employees, and told her she should fire them as they tried to help him.”

“Fine, that is enough. I will kick that bastard out and we can have a lunch break,” John walks toward the customer.

“Dad, that was freaking awesome when you threatened to demolish his car,” Dean laughs, stealing another slice of pizza. “I never saw a guy run faster toward his car.”

“Seems like he gets off by treating people like shit,” Bobby explains. “Must be one lonely bastard.”

“Loneliness is awful, Mr. Singer,” you say, smiling when John grasps for your hand to squeeze it tightly. “Maybe he tried to get attention or something.”

“I want to talk to Johnny,” Sharon complains, pushing against the door. “Let me inside.”

“Listen, this is my house, and I don’t want you to enter it. If you want to talk to John, call him. I want you to leave my property or I’ll call the cops and you’ll get arrested,” you stand your ground. “But you shouldn’t waste your time, John doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“How do you wanna know, bitch?” she just doesn’t get the message. Sharon throws insults at you, not caring you flinch when she called you fat and ugly.

“What the fuck, Sharon!” John growls. He slams the door in her face to check on you. “Doll, I want you to go to bed as planned. I’ll take care of Sharon. Don’t worry,” he pecks your hair softly,” she won’t come back.

“O-okay,” you nod, giving John a pained smile. “I’ll be waiting for you, John. Do you still want to watch that movie?”

“Sure thing, doll,” he smirks, eyes shamelessly roaming your body. “And later I’m gonna devour that sweet pussy of yours again…”

You giggle at his words, eyes no longer filled with tears. “Catch me if you can, Winchester.”

“Aw, my girl tries to play hard to get,” John growls. “Give me five to get rid of Sharon and I’ll rock your world…”

“No, you will let me speak first,” John says, raising one hand to stop Sharon. “Before you broke up with me for a boy half my age, I already knew we are over. We never matched but I stayed with you, too afraid to end up alone.”

“You need me, John,” Sharon purrs, batting her eyelashes. She pouts, hoping John will change his mind.

“I don’t know why you keep on coming back to me, Sharon. It was you ending our relationship. I’m going to tell you this one last time. WE. ARE. OVER. I don’t want you to ever come back here.”

“Is it because of that chick? She can’t give you what I can give you, Johnny,” she coos.

“True,” Sharon smirks, believing she got one step closer to her goal. “Y/N gives me so much more. A home. Warmth. Love. I love that girl,” John slams the door in Sharon’s face before she can say another word. “Now move your ass off her property before she calls the cops.”

“Damn me, you are killing this poor old man,” John pants. He runs one hand over your sweaty back, laughing when you lazily lift your head. “Dean was right, I should’ve let you ride me first thing when we got home.”

“Don’t tell him,” you laugh, patting John’s chest. “I liked it, though.”

“Sharon will never bug you again, doll. I made sure she got the message,” you smile to yourself. “I love you too, John.”

“You heard me, didn’t you?” he groans. “I’m not good at admitting feelings but it’s true, I love you, Y/N.”

“You’re cute when you admit your feelings, John Winchester. I’m glad it was you who moved into my house. You’re the best roommate ever…”

The End...

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[herstarburststories]

you and me and the devil makes three.

Pairings: Dean Winchester x reader, Demon!Dean Winchester x reader, past Lisa x Dean

Summary: Dean is a demon, he will take whatever he wants.

A/N: This got darker than I expected. I wanna make it clear I don't condone or engage with Dean's acts on this. This is my submission for @jawritter 's Make Me Cry Challenge. Congrats, honey! Hope you like it. Dividers by talesmanic and gif credit here

Prompt: I guess I should have been more like her.

Warnings: non consensual kissing, language, UNHEALTHY BEHAVIOR, non con (kissing and touching but no sex), dirty talk

Dean Winchester was a dreamer.

In the rawest way of the word, the meaning in the dust-collecting dictionaries and not the idealistic form. His eyelids shut close and, just like magic, Dean’s head was as haunted as the home he swore he’d never come back to in Kansas. The ghosts of the past, not ever so very friendly, coming to greet him at least three times per week. Sometimes they were happy films he could never starre in real life, his mom singing or a picnic with a lover saying that they needed to hurry up to get their kid at the baseball. The nightmares were sleepy visions of flesh and blood, mostly about his time underneath, Sam hurting, or his father spilling out his worst fears at his face. 

Maybe it was how the eldest Winchester’s brain compensated for the lack of bedtime tales and docile affairs growing up. The own way that his brittle soul discovered and molded not to let him collapse, or to always keep him on red alert. 

Good and bad deals are mostly a matter of which side you are betting your money on, really.

Because yeah, Dean did wake up feeling like he had shut his forest eyes briefly for twenty minutes instead of hours when he dreamed, but he also had never spent so long trapped in a better place. The green eyed hunter didn’t know which one was worse: the good dreams or the horrific ones. After all, he had went through all the atrocity and made it out alive, but the engulfed craving for light-hearted scenarios was suffocating. The hunter could never have it all. Trust him, he tried. Then, which is more agonizing: to have everything you ever wanted for a couple hours and have every scrap of it taken from you, or to undergo the calamity that accompanied your breaking point? 

Dean didn’t know, he didn’t even know what to tell Sam when he wondered what his brother had dreamt about to wake up sweating and screaming, all the light and stupid apple pie desires and the sharp brutality crawling out of the back of his mind. He made a joke, Megan Fox really liked knives, man. He kept it in, shoved down a good amount of alcohol, and mocked the worry of doing the lawn. Ready for another day. 

But now he was a demon, and apparently whatever he was made of - sulfur, cruelty, and black eyes under garden ones - wasn't worthy quiet reliefs in the middle of the night, or even frightening figments of memory. He became his worst dreams and all the dreams slipped beyond his reaches because of that. Demons, those unholy creatures, didn’t get the human peculiarities. You know what? Fine by him.

Who needed dreams when you don't need sleep, anyway? Even better: who needed dreams when you don't care about what you gotta do to put your greedy hands on the prize you had been eyeing for years? 

Dean Winchester was finally free. Free for the first time since he was a four years little boy who watched his mother burning with a terrorized expression, ironically mimicking the one Mary wore on the ceiling. His dad’s shouting for him to grab Sammy and run, take your little brother and run, echoing through years and years. There was never time for Dean, for his grief or his questions or whatever the child frozen in time under his rib cage could come up with. They said, stupid psychologists with their fancy degrees and malicious bartenders with a unfriendly grun under the counter who learned a little too much, everybody said that when someone was so traumatized as a kid, that person would tend to get frozen at that age. Therefore, how tremendously alleviating was to kill any reminiscing emotion of the whiny child he used to be. 

The kind of freedom that no traveler longed for; when one’s ruined and damaged enough not to care, and just take and take and take like hunger itself. Dean was an evil thing now, what else could he do but act on the figments of the worst intentions?

And feel so fucking good when doing that. 

‘’Where do you think he's going?’’ Your eyes raked over the street, darting between the asphalt under Baby’s wheels and Sam’s weary features.

‘’I don't know.’’ He sighed, attempting to organize his thoughts. Even as a demon, his brother wouldn’t just run miles and miles away by himself for no apparent reason. There had to be something you and Sam were missing out, some unseen clue or a hidden meaning. ‘’What the localizator says?’’

At least you had managed to put a tracker in his boots during your last encounter. Whatever Dean was thinking of starting there, you and Sam wouldn’t let him.

‘’Still Cicero, Indiana.’’ You sighed. Sammy furrowed his eyebrows, a long forgotten memory rising. ‘’What?’’

‘’We had a case there once years ago.’’ He explained, opting not to elaborate. Your and Dean’s relationship was troubled enough with his new self. Sam didn’t want to blow it up completely. His brother would need you once he came back to himself. The look on your face, though, reported how you weren’t buying his cheap excuses. The long haired hunter sighed. ‘’Did Dean ever tell you about that?’’

‘’No.’’

He stepped on the accelerator.

To find the woman was excruciatingly easy. The freckled demon couldn't believe he opened his computer many times and gave up before today. He glanced through the glass window and there she was, standing in all her glory with a body that seemed to forget how to grow old. Her tan skin still glowing, as appetizing as ever. Brown eyes shining so bright, tiny hands that always seemed to know where he wanted to be touched. She was laughing like there was no tomorrow, holding a glass of wine with one hand and her cellphone with the other, while her dark hair was falling so perfectly over her shoulder, like waves against the rocks in the sea.

Dean can’t wait to smell her again, to taste her, to prove her. His fingers were tingling, begging to touch what was his as he hopped off the car, walking towards the porch. He had been gone for a long time, but now he was back. 

He will destroy that quintessential, sequin woman so good.

The Winchester buckled in front of the white door, graced with the sound of the female giggle. Thin walls, he thought, those will be useful to make sure the neighbors know who’s back home. Her steps on the wood floor growing closer and closer as he heard a goodbye, probably aimed at whoever she was on the phone with. It was almost like the caramel skinned woman knew that whoever was on her doorstep wasn’t gonna be a hustled visitor. Or so the demon’s arranged mind said.

‘’Hey, Lis.’’ Dean’s voice lacked any cherishment as she opened the door, who would know that the absence of a soul wouldn't be gelid, just dry? As for her, Lisa’s face was drained of love. For all she was aware of, he was a stranger who knew her name. The male let out a chuckle empty of joy. She really didn’t remember, huh? ‘’Whoa. Cass really fucked up your head, huh? At least he did one thing right.’’

‘’Excuse me?’’ The man with dirty blonde hair and perfect teeth smelled like alcohol. She wasn’t having any of this tonight. ‘’Listen, I don’t know who you are and--’’

‘’Don’t worry.’’ He tranquilized her, although the lopsided grin on his lips held anything but good intentions. ‘’I’ll make you remember. I have a spell. You won’t believe how much you missed me.’’

The mocking laugh that left her lips utterly aggravated him. ‘’I don’t know you. Please leave or I’ll call the police.’’

Dean didn’t need a crowd for that part, a bratty woman in need of a firm hand should get a particular lesson. 

‘’You always liked a little cat and mouse.’’

Speaking of, the demon pushed the door wide open without any effort. Lisa jumped at the sudden move, every instinct inside her deciding that man was a threat and not some harmless wasted guy. Her body was quickly erect, thinking about ways to run and get help, but Dean swiftly pushed her to him and kicked the door closed-- her small figure collided to his chest.

Human savagery was cut in urban ways, molded to civilize the animalistic instincts. Imagine meat. A dead animal on a silver plate, and we couldn’t wait to chew every inch of it. We couldn’t wait to eat it, put that dead thing inside us and hope it’ll be enough to control the predatory hungry. Humans will always be animals, but so will be their rests that constructed the demons. 

Dean may not be a hunter anymore, but he’s still a predator who can't wait to taste his prey. He could small it, the fear in Lisa’s sweat making his mouth water. How much she tried to fight against him and scream other names when his was the only one he wanted her to need tonight. The resistance of a poor human barely made the monster shiver.

He closed his hands around her arms, throwing her against the wall like someone tossed an old toy away. There was no space for delicaly. In that moment, Dean Winchester was a tiger, a lion, the big bad wolf attacking the omega. Lis winced, her back hurting as her fibers. She couldn’t believe this was happening, that man was about to do something so terrible and disgusting to her in her own house, the place she was supposed to feel warm and safe. Why did he seem to know her? Why did he say she was gonna remember? Was he crazy, hallucinating, or drugged? Why was he so satisfied with how frightened her tiny body looked? How could she use all that information to somehow push him away?

‘’Let me go!’’ She demanded, her legs kicking the demon with ferocity. ‘’What’s wrong with you? LET ME GO NOW!’’

The brunette’s skilled body moved itself desperately, and the act of resistance only brought a hysterical laugh out of Dean. The wrong kind of goosebumps washed her skin, she had to run away for her life. This man was mad.

‘’FIRE! FIRE!’’ Lisa started to scream. Well-aware that people were most likely to come around and help a woman screaming if she said fire. ‘’THERE’S A FIRE. SOMEONE HELP ME!’’

One of his hands went to her neck, wrapping his fingers around it to shut her up. That was rubbing him off the wrong way. Lisa Braeden used to beg for his touch, how dared her not to want him anymore? Now that he was better, stronger, and thicker.

The brown eyed girl went quiet, probably scared by his brutal behavior. Dean smiled, a blood stained grin that carried mischief and pervertment. He licked the tears savoring the salty horror coming from her. Just like the day he was a vampire who almost gave in to drinking every drop of her luptuos blood. She may not remember but he did and he couldn't wait to get inside her, those tight walls squeezing his hard cock.

‘’You’re gonna do as I say, Lis. And I won't hurt you… Much.’’ He risped, crooked nose stroking her wet cheek. She whined. ‘’Don’t worry, honey. You loved it. Bet you’ll scream so much once I fuck you good.’’

‘’Please, don’t do it.’’ She begged as he coaxed his body against his. That man was stronger than her, she had no other choice but to plead to his human side. If only she knew.

‘’Begging already?’’ Dean lifted his head, smirking at her. Lisa just wanted to cry and close her eyes until everything was done. How could someone do that? ‘’I told you, don’t worry. I’m gonna make a lil’ spell that will give your memories back and you’ll remember everything. And then we’re gonna have so much fun, Lis.’’

His last murmur was finished with a kiss. A harsh, ruthless kiss. Actually, she wasn’t even sure if she could call it a kiss; teeth against each other, his vicious mouth pressed to her weakened lips, his tongue invading her like a robber and showing an unrequited dominance.

‘’Dean!’’ Your voice resonated stridently, louder than the door Sam had stormed open. You couldn’t believe what your eyes witnessed. ‘’Stop it!’’

Dean groaned, as if you and Sam were stepping on his territory. He simply turned his head to you two, not pulling away from Lisa. You couldn’t see her face, your boyfriend’s large shoulder and tall body covering her up. His eyes were still green, which set the scene in an even more atrocious light. 

Your thoughts were racing. How could he come to her, crave her so badly that he drove away miles and miles as a demon? He was supposed not to feel a thing. You prepared yourself for a cold man, not an obsessive one. Apparently, a heart hidden under the black smoke. Choose if it's a gift or Pandora's box. Sam told you their history. Of course he would want that and not you. Dean never left Lisa because he fell out of love for her, he was ripped out from her life. You were so pissed at yourself; how could you picture playing the woman in his veins? How stupid were you? He may be a demon guided by wants and not emotions, but what was love but an amount of outrageous desires laced up with some pretty words and flavored with dependency?

‘’Y/N and Sammy--’’

Love was the wrong word here. Anyway. Go head and unwrap it.

‘’Please help me!’’ Lisa’s voice came to life once more through her quiet cry. Dean hardened the hold around her throat, making her cough a little.

Suddenly, your body is frozen. That, whatever that is, whatever he’s doing to Lisa. It wasn’t love. She didn’t want it. When his frame moved to face you and Sam, you caught a glimpse of her face. She was petrified, her delicate features contorted in wrath and fear and beg for help.

‘’Quiet.’’ Dean howled, glancing at her rapidly before his eyes fell on you and Sam again. ‘’You two are such killjoys. I told you to let me go.’’

You couldn’t believe what you were witnessing. You wanted to puke your guts out.

‘’And what? Kill your ex? Or do something even worse to her?’’ You elicited with disgust.

‘’She’ll come around eventually. Just playing hard to get. You know how frisky women are.’’ The corner of his lips curved into a barbaric grim, one of his hands touching Lisa’s cheek. The victim winced at the touch. ‘’Besides, I’m not just gonna take her. I’ll make her remember and she’ll want me.’’ He shrugged, unbothered by the horrified looks of everyone in the room. ‘’Are you really worried about Lis, Y/N? Or are you just jealous that I didn’t go for you?’’

‘’Enough, Dean.’’ Sam groaned, holding the gun up. It felt oily. ‘’Let her go. And come with us.’’

The demon tossed the brunette away with a simple sleight of hand, pulling his sleeves up with a marred beam. His eyes switched from starry green to black, showing his true facette. It was a peculiar relief. It wasn’t Dean. It wasn’t Dean. It wasn’t Dean.

Yet, Dean’s gruff voice said in a twisted playful tone:

‘’Come get me, Sammy.’’

Dean Winchester was cured. For most people, to heal is to let go or to learn with things. In the doctor’s case, healing is leaving a bruise to cover up a wound. Everyone believed the war started and ended, and that was it. But when something so ravaging is gone, you gotta deal with the trauma.

He was a trauma. Cured from a sickness, drowning in sorrow and waves of woe. All the worst things Dean ever did, he knew now, weren’t to himself or to the monster he so proudly killed. His unspoken acts were against the people he cared about.

The hunter never thought his hands, his bruised and tough hands could ever hurt Lis. The woman who was his lifeline when Sam died, who allowed him to be a father and live in his dreamland of suburban life. All she ever did was to love him, and what did she get for it?

He was disgusted with himself. What almost did to her was enough to hunt him and make him sure he was going back to hell, very deserving this time. Threating to do that to a woman, and enjoy it… Dean couldn’t bear driving into memories. He was selfishly glad he didn’t remember about that, only Sam’s explanation was enough: he went to Lisa, he kissed her without her consent, and Sam and you stopped him going any further. Would his unscrupulous, demon self go ahead? He was too scared to wonder, even though his brother said that he apparently had a spell to make Lis remember and wasn’t planning on just taking her. A forced kiss was disgusting enough. He just wished Sam had put a bullet in his black eyes right there.

You walked in the bathroom that you once shared with the eldest Winchester

She was everything he ever wanted, all the suburban dreams and acceptance of hunter reality without being in it. Lisa loved him completely and you could only love him sideways-- you never wanted to be a mom, or to have a family or live in a suburb. Those were valid goals, just not yours. You thought you and Dean were on the same page about it, but this other side, not only the pervert demon but the domestic man, hadn’t been shown to you until a couple days ago. Sam had cured his brother, his dirty nature washed away with holy water, but you couldn’t help the bruises that came from the dog days. Lisa had her memory erased by Cass again, you didn’t have the same unfair luxury.

‘’Dean.’’ You said, making him look up at you. Bags under his eyes and wrinkles more evident than ever. ‘’We need to talk.’’

He sighed and wiped his face. ‘’Y/N, I don’t want to talk right now.’’

‘’You never do.’’ You scoffed, gaining an incredulous glance from him. ‘’I know that what happened was disgusting and sick and the worst thing you could ever do, but we need to talk.’’

He took a deep breath. ‘’What do you wanna talk about?’’

‘’You went to her.’’ You stated as a lawyer in front of a jury. Dean furrowed.

‘’What?’’

‘’Lisa. You went to her.’’ When the arrow hit someone so damaged, it was like an animal with his teeth there that wouldn't let go. Yeah, his human soul wasn't the same brittle glass as before but it lingered in his demon self in the shape of delusion, and it was distorted by whatever he was made of, violence and darkness, and turned into something disgusting. ‘’You love her.’’

‘’Love?’’ The word burned his tongue, Dean didn’t think he had the right to ever use it again. ‘’I was a demon, Y/N. I didn’t love or feel anything. What I did--’’

‘’You didn’t do anything.’’ You interrupted, loyal as a soldier.

‘’I forced a kiss on her and wanted to bring her memories back to have sex with her. That’s disgusting and I did half of that.’’ He pointed out aggitadly, plump lips moving fast and voice deeper. ‘’It wasn’t love. Leaving her years back was love.’’

You didn’t miss how Dean didn’t even dare to say her name. ‘’So you don’t think about her? Not even once?’’

He scoffed humourless. ‘’Are you kidding me?’’

‘’I guess I should have been more like her.’’ You hugged yourself, glancing at the wall. You didn’t want to cry in front of him. Not again, not for another woman. That wasn’t even your cicatrix to ache. 

‘’Y/N, what the fuck are you talking about?’’ The fully green eyed man raised to his feet, glancing at you with disbelief. He couldn’t face how messed up it was. ‘’I can’t believe you are jealous of what happened. I thought I was the broken one here.’’

‘’I’m not her.’’ You two shared it, the glance that only two women who were hurt by the same man could. You both understood that when he got inside you, it was like the syringe in an eutanasia. Once you were happy because you loved him, now you were scared and not so sure this was what you wanted. ‘’I’m not her and you knew it. When you became just instincts and selfish and did whatever you wanted, you didn’t come to me. You came to her.’’

‘’I hurt her.’’

The next words fly out of your mouth, as weak and totaled as you felt: ‘’Why didn’t you hurt me?’’

‘’This is the most unhealthy shit we ever went through.’’ Dean’s right. You have her expression mesmerized on your brain. Dean was the man on top of her, teaching her how to hate. How to fear. You can’t trust yourself. ‘’I can’t believe you.’’

‘’Neither can I.’’ You were so sick. How ravaged and annihilated one had to be to wish to be a demon's object of obsession? To get jealous that another woman almost died in the arms of a beast that cried his blood out once he came back to being a man and saw what he had done? ‘’I hate it. I hate feeling like this. I was there and I saw how scared of you she was, how all she wanted was to push you away and run because she was so disgusted--’’

‘’Stop.’’ He groaned, but it came out more like a whine than anything. ‘’It wasn’t me. I would never hurt Lis. I would never force her to do anything! I--’’

You gave him a sad smile. ‘’You love her.’’

‘’I love you.’’ Dean approached you, fumbling in despair to fix yet another thing his hands destroyed. If Rome was built in ruins, he was a kingdom. You pulled away before his tough hands landed on you.

‘’But you love her too.’’ The hunter stopped on his spot, unable to answer. ‘’I ruined myself for you, Dean. I can’t-- I won’t do that again. You are right. This is unhealthy. The fact that you’ve been pining for her for so long, pushing down those feelings to the point they are twisted into something so cruel and disgusting. You need help.’’ What kind of ugly you have to have inside you for a monster to love you? And, even worse, what kind of sickness you have trapped, written in your blood to want it to be spilled out in his name? ‘’You really are venom. If this is how you love, it’s scary as fuck.’’ When you loved a broken man, you were never sure if his shattered pieces would glisten or cut your hand once the light came in. Here’s your answer. His parts crawled inside you through pulled up scars, scraping your insides to make into ruins, but you never liked Rome much. You had to be better than that. ‘’Goodbye, Dean.’’

He couldn’t bring himself to go after your steps.

Once again, it’s the kind of freedom no traveler wants. When you lost it all and didn't have any person or place to cling to, when you had to leave because you were becoming the girl you swore you’d never leave, when you walked away willingly without a map.

Still, it was all you had. You’d make a good use of it. You’d be okay. No more ugly emotions or sentiments that made you unrecognizable. No more knives that cut both ways, or situations so complicated you weren’t sure where your morals could rely on.

You’d be okay, healthy, and happy.

You’d be okay.

Comment & reblog. Feedback is magic! Check my masterlist ♡ Tags in reblog!

[deascheck]

Sam Winchester's Love

Summary: You are in a relationship with Sam Winchester. You don’t feel deserving of his love as your depression causes you to sink into a deep rut. Sam does some research about depression and responds to your lapse in happiness with a gentle approach that ends with him showing you just how much he loves you.

Word Count: 2906

Warnings: talk of depression and suicide/death, angst, and all the fluff with some smut added in there.

A/N: First- I’ve never written smut before. So be nice! Second, I struggle with depression and anxiety, and wanted to write a fic that expresses what would help me (or hopefully anyone struggling as well) feel appreciated when I’m low. I bolded symptoms of depression to help people see what it feels like to have depression. These are not the only symptoms. If you identify with one or more of the symptoms, I encourage you to reach out to someone and start a conversation. It could be a complete stranger or a loved one. (I'm always a listening ear, too!) Whatever you’re most comfortable with. All “Google results” are from my own google search. The crisis text line is a real resource for you to use, if you find yourself in a mental health crisis.

Also tagging a couple people who might like to read. Sorry if that's overstepping! @winchester09 @that-one-gay-girl @supernatural-harrypotter7 @winchest09

The one good thing about living in a bunker was that there were no windows. Your room that you shared with Sam Winchester was no different. It meant no morning sun could wake you up, and you could keep the room as dark and cool as you wanted to. And on this particular morning, your depression had you keeping the room as dark as you possibly could.

You knew the boys would be wondering where you were, since it was 10:30, and you were always up by 8:00. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care. You couldn’t move, you couldn’t get dressed, brush your teeth or hair, or even get your legs swung over the edge of the bed. You were so emotionless that you couldn’t even cry. You simply didn’t care. Nothing felt important to you. You had no motivation to do anything except lie there in the gloom, curled around yourself, stuck in this dark rut.

You had no idea how much time had passed while you stayed there, motionless, until Sam came in, knocking softly as he opened the door. Your eyes glanced over to him and you could see the surprise and concern on his face at discovering your lack of activity.

“Y/N? Love, what are you still doing in bed? It’s 2:00 in the afternoon.”

You sighed. “I don’t care,” you said softly. “Nothing matters to me right now. I wish I would die. Then I wouldn’t be a burden to anyone anymore. No one would miss me.”

Sam knew you struggled with depression, but in the short time you’d been together, he had yet to see a truly deep depressive episode. It scared him, and he replied, “What? Y/N, I would miss you! You’re scaring me.”

You moved your head marginally to be able to look at him for real, and asked, “Would you let me be? I just need to be alone.” Your tone was expressionless, and it freaked Sam out.

He nodded and slowly and quietly closed the door. Once the door was latched firmly, Sam beelined for his laptop. He’d be damned if he was going to let you suffer alone and in silence.

Opening his computer, he typed in “symptoms of depression”. Among the results were, “fatigue, sleeping too much or too little, feelings of worthlessness or hopelessness, loss of interest in activities that once brought pleasure, appetite loss, feelings of sadness, loneliness, or ‘empty’ feelings, thoughts of suicide or death”. His eyes widened. You met every single one of those criteria for identifying depression.

Determined to help, he next googled “how to help someone with depression”. The answers ranged from helping the loved one cope, to opening a conversation with the loved one and getting them to talk about their feelings. Asking questions such as “What caused you to start feeling like this? How can I help you right now?” Stating things like, “You’re important to me. Your life is important to me,” or “You’re not alone, I’m here for you.”

One resource he found as he researched fervently was the crisis text line. It was a number (741-741) someone could text and speak to a certified individual about whatever their crisis was. Sam noted that in the back of his mind as something to bring up to you.

Sam nodded as he read. He knew he could do all these things. His biggest goal for you was for you to feel supported and loved. Seeing you in the state you were in concerned him and it had almost sent him in a tailspin of worry. But he would remain strong for you. You needed Sam to lean on if you were going to get up to see the light.

Sam noticed Dean wander in and motioned him over.

“Hey, I gotta talk to you about Y/N. She’s in a really bad depressive episode. She said she wanted to die.” Sam’s heart rate sped up with fear just saying those words. He swallowed and continued. “I’ve been looking up depression online and I think I know how to help her. But I could use your help.”

Dean quickly responded, “So that’s why she’s still in your room. Of course. What do you need?”

Sam answered, “I’m going to have a conversation with her and see if I can’t convince her to get out of bed. Actually, once we finish talking, I’m going to carry her out if she won’t walk. But I want to give her some ideas of simple things we could do as a group that would help her snap back to us.”

Dean nodded in agreement. “I think you’re on the right track. I dated a girl for like, a week, years ago who had depression, and getting outside really helped her she said. Maybe we could go on a walk with her down to the lake. Or hell, even loop around the bunker’s perimeter a few times.”

“That’s a good idea. I was also thinking something easier, like a movie night squished between us - something to show her she’s loved and not alone. Or maybe making dinner with us, so that she’s up and about but doesn’t really have to do much.” Sam ran his hand through his hair as he thought out loud.

Dean grinned. “Oh we’d show her she’s loved. She’s like my sister. She’s not going anywhere.”

His grin faded. “Hey, what if we took her on an easy hunt? Tried to get her back in the swing of things? Maybe it would distract her from the depression.”

Sam shook his head thoughtfully. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. She said she wanted to die, which makes me think that she might do something stupid on the hunt, like try to get killed. Or even just make a stupid mistake because her head isn’t in the game. No, I don’t think a hunt is the right option for her right now.”

“Of course. Duh. I should have known that,” Dean rolled his eyes in exasperation at his cluelessness. ‘I wouldn’t want to put Y/N in danger.”

Sam sighed. “Well, we’ve got some ideas. Let me go talk to her and see what I can get her to do. We’ll be out in a bit one way or another.”

Dean nodded and headed to the kitchen to grab a bite and some coffee before doing his own research on your debilitating ailment.

----

You still hadn’t moved since Sam had come into the room. Your mind felt empty, like everything had been drained from it. You just lay there quietly, waiting for nothing.

The door opened slowly, and Sam silently came in, shutting the door behind him. He didn’t say a word, just got in the bed with you and wrapped you up in his arms to hold you close. Your back against his chest, he tried to shelter you with his body, as if he could protect you from the dark thoughts. Sam wanted you to feel his love first before he tried to say anything. The two of you stayed like that for several minutes, the only sound in the room was the sound of two humans breathing softly. You hadn’t even known, but his touch was what you’d been needing. You soaked in the moment, grateful Sam was giving you space before speaking.

“Y/N?” Sam kissed the nook between your shoulder and your neck. “I want you to know you’re not alone. I’m here for you every step of the way.”

You didn’t respond, but it created the first semblance of emotion you’d felt all day. You could feel your eyes start to well up, not understanding how he knew exactly what to say to you.

“I don’t know what triggered your episode, but I think it would help if you talked it through with someone. It doesn’t even have to be me. You could text the crisis help line, and speak to someone through that. What do you think about that?” You could hear the hesitation in Sam’s voice, as though if he spoke too loudly or firmly he’d break you.

Sighing once again, you summoned the motivation to speak. “If I talk to anyone, I’d like it to be you.”

You could feel the smile on his lips as he again kissed you.

You drew in a shaky breath and decided to describe to him how you were feeling. You told him in a whisper about how you had no motivation, no gumption to do anything. How you felt worthless and unlovable. You told him how you felt he’d be better off if you just died so you weren’t a burden anymore and how you couldn’t bring yourself to care about anything today. As you spoke of your symptoms and feelings, you could feel a couple warm tears dripping into the crook of your neck and shoulder.

Once you finished, you felt Sam take a couple steadying breaths, clearly attempting to get himself together. “My love, I’m so sorry you’re going through this. If I could take this all away I would. But I’m here. I can share the weight of your burden. You mean the world to me. You are the farthest thing from a burden on me. You are the shining light in my life, guiding me and loving me. You have given me a reason to fight on. You are what I hold on to in my dark moments.” Here Sam paused, unsure whether he was overwhelming you or even getting through to you.

You turned in his arms so that your chest was facing his, your arms pressed against his chest as you brought your head to tuck under his. “Sam, I can’t tell you how much that helped me,” you said softly.

Sam took that as a cue and gently unwrapped one of his arms from your back and brought your head up to his. Tenderly, he pressed his lips to yours, sending you the message “I love you”. You allowed yourself to respond, capturing his lips with yours. Your kiss was sending the message, “Thank you.”

The two of you kissed delicately for a minute before your body began to respond. You pressed your mouth more firmly against his and adjusted your body to press closer against Sam’s. You brought one hand up and began to run it through Sam’s hair, something you knew he was crazy for. As the kiss began to become more passionate, you grabbed Sam’s hair at the roots and gently pulled, letting him know it was ok to take this a step further. He moaned a little against your mouth at the feeling of his hair being tugged on and involuntarily ground his hips into yours.

You automatically responded by thrusting your hips back against his. Sam broke the kiss long enough to look at you with an unspoken question in his eyes. You nodded, understanding his desire to show you just how much he loved you. Sam rolled you onto your back before resuming the kiss, running his tongue along your bottom lip, lazily requesting access to your mouth. You granted it, and began to explore his mouth with your own as if it were your first kiss. You could feel Sam slowly grinding against you, not rushing, but clearly feeling the need for some friction. His erection was bumping against your abdomen, and both of your breathing began to get shorter and heavier.

Not breaking the kiss, Sam lifted himself up on one arm and began pulling your nightshirt over your head. You allowed your lips to leave his only long enough to get the shirt out of the way and immediately brought your mouth to Sam’s again. His free hand roamed across your stomach, tracing lines in circles and random shapes as he made his way up to your breasts. Your breathing hitching, you moaned into the kiss as he began to massage your breast, pinching your hardened nipple. Your hips began to grind back against Sam’s, now also needing friction. Your arousal was beginning to pool between your legs, and you weren’t wearing panties.

Sam began to move his kisses down your jawline and to your neck, where he sucked through his teeth, determined to leave his mark on you. You cocked your neck to the side to allow him full access but he was already moving lower, taking your nipple in his mouth and swirling his tongue around it, sucking on it. He pulled off it with a pop, and moved to the next one. Sam then continued to work his way down your body, kissing every inch of your stomach, navel, and down to your inner thighs. You shuddered, his lips so close to your slick folds. Sam smiled against your leg. “You like that, sweetheart?” All you could do was whimper in response as you ground your hips desperately. “Ok,” he murmured. “Ok, love. Let me show you how much I love you.”

Sam ran his tongue between your folds and immediately you felt the tightness in your core begin. He knew every sensitive spot, every place to make you writhe in ecstasy. He sucked on your clit and slowly stuck a finger in your hole. You threw your head back, eager for him to insert another, which he obliged. He bent them and ran them against your walls, curling and pumping. Your juices squelched a bit, letting Sam know just how ready for him you were. He continued to run his tongue in swirls around your clit and through your folds as he finger fucked you. The tightness in your core becoming unbearable, you could feel your release coming. You moaned loudly and stuttered, “S-Sam, I’m gon-gonna…”

“Cum for me baby. Come on, that’s it. Good girl,” he praised as your orgasm exploded, pleasure coursing through your body, your pussy clenching around his fingers over and over again as he rode you through it.

You lay limp against the sheets, unable to form words. Sam looked up at you and chuckled. He slowly brought himself up along your body to recapture your lips with his, putting all his love and passion into the kiss. “Now do you know how much I love you?” he asked. You smirked. You could feel his erection pressed between your bodies. You wanted to feel him deep inside you, filling you, satisfying you. “Mmm I’m beginning to,” you murmured. “I might need you to show me more.” Sam smirked back at you and said, “As you wish, my love.”

He lined himself up at your entrance, rubbing his cock in your juices. Slowly, he pushed in, letting you adjust as he went. That was one thing you loved about him. Sam never rushed your body. He worshipped it. Once he was fully sheathed, he pulled halfway out, and slowly thrust back in, creating a slow, lazy pace that made you two feel like you had all the time in the world. As he thrust, he grabbed one of your legs, and put it over his shoulder, giving him a new angle, to get him deeper.

You moaned and your pussy clenched around his cock as he hit places that gave you waves of pleasure. He groaned as you clenched around him and sped up his pace, his balls slapping against your skin. Sam took his free hand and started rubbing your clit again, trying to help you get to your climax. His other hand held your hip in place as his pace picked up even more, almost becoming erratic as he got close to his release. You threw your head back again as you felt the familiar tightness building in your core. “Oh don’t stop. Oh Sam. Oh my god. Don’t .. don’t… ahhh!!” You came loudly and harder than last time, your back arching and your pussy milking Sam’s cock for all it was worth. Sam grunted - he couldn’t handle it, the tightness, the pulsing - and released inside you, jerking his hips, spurts of cum coating your walls.

Sam gently pulled out of you, his cum dripping from between your legs. He got up and grabbed a towel from the closet and quietly cleaned you up, careful to not be too rough. You lay there in heaven, a stupid smile on your face, unsure if you’d even be able to walk the next day. Sam crawled back into bed with you and gathered you in his arms. He pressed a soft kiss to your temple and said, “Do you believe me now? How much I love you?”

You smiled adoringly at him and whispered, “Yes, I do.”

Sam grinned. “Good. Because we have an activity outside the room that we’re going to do. And you need to be clothed for it.” He winked at you cheekily. “Dean and I were talking, and we brainstormed something the three of us could do that would help you feel less alone. So, let’s get UP,” he rolled you on top of him and then over him to get you to the side of the bed. “And dressed, and then we’ll go meet Dean.”

You smiled again at him, and good-naturedly shook your head as you got dressed. The darkness was gone for now. You knew it would be back, but you had ammunition to combat it the next time it came a-knocking. Sam Winchester’s love.

[hops-hunny]

Alarm

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Reader

Word Count: 3k

Request: “Can u write a songfic for Fred Weasley based on alarm by Anne Marie? It's ok if u don't want to”

Summary: Based off the song Alarm by Ann Marie aka Fred learns that karma is a bitch

Warnings: cheating, swearing, mentions of sex, small amounts of angst

A/N: I’m sorry this took so long! I whipped this up finally so I hope you enjoy it! I did add a bit extra in the end but otherwise, I did base it off of the song.

You lay here with me, you're shuttin' down

I smell her on ya, I'm focused now

I know what's goin' on in your head, yeah

I know what's happened here in our bed, yeah

(Y/n) lay in bed, deep in her thoughts as Fred wrapped one arm around her using the other to pull the cover up over their exposed bodies. Fred fell asleep rather quickly while (Y/n) dodged the call from sleep. Her thoughts were consuming her. It had all started last week when she found a pair of underwear hanging from Fred’s bed that certainly were not hers. They were much too small and well, she didn’t remember bringing any thongs to Hogwarts with her. And tonight, while he was busy deep inside of her, she was busy deep in her thoughts from the sickly, sweet smell of caramel candies and the stuffy scent of the Ravenclaw common room that was embedded in the pillows that surrounded her head.

Your phone is buzzin', so pick it up

I know she callin', so what the fuck?

I should've known a cheat stays a cheater

So here we are

---------

While (Y/n) was a bright and kind soul filled with optimism and humanity, she wasn’t fucking stupid as much as Fred seemed to think she was. She had started seeing signs way before the more obvious ones. She noticed the first time when he was receiving an influx of owl messages. In the great hall, common room, quidditch practice. Fred had simply brushed it off by saying “Oh it’s just George, love, nothing to worry about.” and at first, she had bought it. She believed his lies, giving him the benefit of the doubt. That was until she got paired with George for an assignment in which he sent his owl to give her a time and place.

 So she waited for the perfect opportunity. While in Fred’s dorm, waiting for him to arrive back from quidditch practice, that same owl from before swooped in dropping a letter on his bed. She was not naturally a nosy person, she wouldn’t want anyone snooping through her things so why should she snoop through his? But, the hearts that littered the outside of the letter got the best of her. (Y/n) looked around the room, making sure she wouldn’t be interrupted, before carely unfolding the letter. 

‘Were we meeting tonight? I couldn’t remember. Either way, I’m wearing that cute little red number under my uniform and as usual, you know where to find me. Take care until then darling, 

Xoxo Marie SinClair’

The girl sat there for a bit, a tornado of emotions brewing inside of her. She wasn’t surprised to say the least. She should’ve known that dirty bastard hadn’t changed. The whole reason she had never accepted any of his advances before was because of his reputation. Everyone at Hogwarts knew of the appetite of the unsatisfiable beast that was Fred Weasley. He couldn’t keep it in his pants if his life depended on it. He got who he wanted, when he wanted and that was just the way it was. 

However, with her, Fred acted differently. He didn’t go for his usual tactics and ways. It was Yule Ball when they had gotten together. She had been crying in the courtyard because her date abandoned her at the last minute. Everyone knew the two were going together so when she arrived and saw him on the arm of some other girl, it drew a lot of unwanted attention. She silenced her crying slightly as she looked up at the sound of footsteps approaching. 

She looked up finding Fred standing there, causing her to roll her eyes.

“Go away, Weasley. I have no time for your usual antics so if that’s what this is, you can simply fuck off.” she snapped, uncharacteristically of her. Even Fred found himself a bit taken back but it didn’t stop him from approaching her. He kneeled before her, grabbing her hands as he looked at her. He took the handkerchief out of his pocket, dabbing her face carefully to get rid of the tears but to also not ruin her makeup.

“You know, what he did was fucking scuzzy. I think he’s a bloody prick for that, abandoning such a beautiful girl. You didn’t deserve that. But, you can’t let him get the best of you! You dressed up all nice and lovely for Yule. We can’t just let that go to waste can we?” He said. (Y/n) looked up at Fred quizzically. She thought about what he said for a moment.

“But, I can’t just go back in there alone. They’ll just look at me even more!”

“You won’t be alone, I’ll be right there with you, every step of the way.” He stood up before holding his hand out to the girl. She pondered it for a second before smiling, taking his hand to go back in and give that bastard of a date a piece of her mind. 

Even then she had been skeptical and looking back, she wished she could go back and change what had happened. She was brought out of her head from a sickly sweet smell of caramel candies and stuffy rooms radiating from the letter. That was the first time she had encountered the smell but even then, she knew it wouldn’t be the last.

And there goes the alarm ringin' in my head

Like somebody said, “Don't you trust him, no”

Text in from his ex, what did you expect?

Now you're lyin' here knowin' where he goes

The next morning, (Y/n) snuck out of Fred’s dorm, knowing she couldn’t handle everything on her own. All the warning signs and evidence ringing loudly in her head like an alarm. She walked through the halls, absentmindedly as she searched for her two dearest friends, Hermione and Ginny. She found them laughing about something in the commons as she sat down. She gave them a tired smile as she looked at them.

“Is everything alright darling? You look quite disturbed.” Hermione said as she held her friends hand looking at her. (Y/n) went to speak before choking on her words. She couldn’t hold it up anymore, she began to cry. She spilled out everything that happened, all the evidence. The letters, perfume, even the underwear. They both held the girl, stroking her back softly as they listened to her.

“But I don’t know, I don’t know. Maybe I’m overreacting? Surely there’s a way to explain this.” the (y/h/h) girl sniffled, looking up at her friends.

“Honey, letters from his ex? The underwear? Love, the signs are all there.” Hermione said in a calm tone, holding her friend as she began to break down again.

“I’ll kill him! The bastard. Letters from his ex? God, I wanted to have faith that this time, now that he had a fucking good one he’d treat her right. But, what did we expect? Dogs will always be bloody dogs. Wait till I tell mum!” Ginny exclaimed, pacing around as she spoke. Her raised tone of voice had gotten the attention of one of the twins’ friends causing him to walk over.

“Who are we on about, Fred? No way that Fred could’ve done that. He’s been uh, helping me study recently! Even yesterday night we were together! No way for him to have time to be shagging other girls. Don’t you trust him?” Dean said, softening his voice near the end as he kneeled before her. (Y/n) looked up at him, (e/c) eyes glaring into the brown ones before her. She had had it. She was fed up with all the he said she said bull. 

“You’re gonna fucking stand here, and lie to my face? Clearly you know where he keeps running off to. But you know what? To answer your question, no. Fuck no I don’t trust him!” the (h/c) girl seethed out through gritted teeth before storming out of the common room. Everyone stood there, a pregnant silence covering the room. Hermione and Ginny stood there, shocked but proud that the usually complacent and quiet girl had stood up for herself.

Now he got that itch, yeah, karma is a bitch, yeah

Same way that they come, that's the way they go

Now he got that itch, yeah, rewindin' the picture

There goes the alarm and the sirens go

There goes the alarm

After what went down in the common room that day, the news had obviously reached Fred extremely fast. He had shown up at her door, with flowers as he tried to form an apology and explanation, stumbling over his words. She stood there, staring at him with a stone like expression which worsened his words. While he was mid apology, (Y/n) had simply taken the flowers before turning around and slamming the door in his face, not even bothering to say anything.

The (y/h/h) girl had grown a lot since then, and everyone could tell. They all had expected her to be torn to bits, crying her days away in her dorm but they couldn’t be far from the truth. When Hermione and Ginny had come to (Y/n)’s room the next morning to go to the great hall like they usually did, their mouths were agape and their eyes grew wide. She had done her makeup, skin glowing the light reflecting off the gloss on her lips. Her hair appeared to look a lot healthier than usual too, skirt hiked a bit more than usual. She had grown tired of hiding on the sidelines She’d show him just exactly what karma had in store for him.

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(Y/n) walked into the great hall, her dearest friends at side as usual, guys and girls alike greeting you as you walked to your spot at the table. She began to butter her toast, looking at Ginny who was holding in a fit of giggles. “Care to share?” the (h/c) haired girl said.

Ginny leaned in. “Well, I heard from a few of the girls in Fred’s year that he’s been having some rather unusual...sensations going on. So, he went to Madam Pomfrey and she asked him if he had been sleeping with anyone new and he obviously said yeah and well...she gave him a bottle of potion and told him good luck! Bloody hell, (Y/n/n) he’s got some kind of itch going on! You dodged a bullet with that one.” She said right on queue as Fred came in, scratching at his crotch region. (Y/n) and Hermione both gasped at the same time, covering your mouths trying your best not to laugh. 

George walked in shortly after, not wanting to be seen with his idiot of a twin. Fred began walking towards the Ravenclaw table, going in for a kiss to the girl he had been seeing. She stuck up her hand in between them before scooting closer to the bloke next to her who wrapped his arm around her, glaring at the Gryffindor boy. He had a defeated look on his face as he walked over to Dean, taking a seat next to him. The (y/h/h) girl couldn’t take it anymore, she began to laugh uncontrollably as her friends joined in.

“Karma really is a bitch, innit she?”

I saw it comin', I let it go

My girls will tell me, "I told you so"

But I was so intrigued by your style, boy

Always been a sucker for a wild boy

I'm better than this, I know my worth

I might be gettin' what I deserve

But I ain't stickin' 'round for the re-run

What's done is done

(Y/n)’s life had improved even more than before. She never cared about her status or popularity, but it was hard to ignore the attention she was receiving. Most of it was positive but some were negatives, spreading rumors that were quickly shut down. Even though the thought of Fred never crossed the girl’s mind, with all the things she kept hearing from people, it was very clear she was the only thing on his mind.

“I swear (Y/n/n)! I’ve heard from around five different people now that he’s been planning something! All I’m saying is you better be prepared for when he approaches.” Hermione said. (Y/n) scoffed, shaking her head. It wasn’t that the idea was unbelievable. She knew it was something that could very well happen but she didn’t want it to. ‘Fred would have some fucking nerve thinking he deserves some kind of reconciliation after what happened’ she thought to herself as they continued to walk. That was until she heard..

“Oi! Oi! (Y/n) wait up! (Y/n)! (Y/n)!” she froze in her spot, turning around with an eye roll. She looked up at the tall boy, eyes piercing into them. He went to open his mouth to speak again but she held her hand up causing him to stop.

“You know Fred, before I would’ve actually taken the time to consider what you have to say. And you know what? I would be lying if I said I didn’t love you. I always loved how different we were. I was, well, quiet, more reserved and you were my fantasy. You were this wild, unruly boy that no one could tame, no one until me. But you know, now I know why fantasies are called fantasies. Because they’re too fucking good to be true.” She spoke calmly as bystanders pretended to not be listening although some did stop to see what would go down. “Honestly, I truly want to thank you from the bottom of my heart. Without your foolishness, I would’ve never realized my worth. And while all the other girls here may fall at your feet, I personally won’t be sticking around for a rerun. So I kindly leave you with, fuck off. What’s done is fucking done.” She said, looking up at the boy whose face was full of a mix of emotions. Sorrow. Regret. Longing. She flashed a fake smile before nudging Hermione signaling for her to follow.

Hermione stood there for a moment before walking up to Fred, smacking him across the face. “You have some nerve, you insolent pig!” (Y/n) dragged her off knowing that the Gryffindor would keep going if she could but for the sake of her, the people around them, and Gryffindor’s house points she didn’t let her.

Bang bang, two-shots fired

Man down, one fool, one liar

Ring ring, trust gone missin'

House on fire, house on fire

Bang bang, two-shots fired

Man down, one fool, one liar

Ring ring, trust gone missin'

House on fire

(Y/n) didn’t know, but there had been a guy watching from afar since this fiasco began. He had watched her grow and blossom, gaining the attention of many men, no not men, boys who thought they were worthy of the work of art that was (Y/n). Out of respect, he hadn’t made a move just yet, knowing the girl would probably want her space. He thought she was amazing. He loved how she was so kind and sweet, spreading optimism anywhere, but never let anyone walk all over her. He loved how she looked when she was concentrating on her studies. But after watching what just went down? He knew he had to make a move. It was now or never.

“Hey, (L/n). Can I talk to you for a second?” (Y/n) turned around at the feeling of a hand on her shoulder. She looked up to be met with a somewhat familiar pair of brown eyes. Her and Blaise were never really friends. Sure, they talked occasionally, working with each other in potions sometimes. He was friends with Draco but was never openly rude as his best friend. She always saw him as the boy’s voice of reason. He was smart, well spoken, and undeniably attractive. She smiled at him.

“Blaise Zabini? To what do I owe the pleasure?” she asked, watching as he scanned her up and down before meeting his eyes. Hermione nudged her, giving a knowing look before she began to walk off leaving the pair to have a moment alone.

“Well, I’ve been watching you and that dimwitted Weasley boy from a far. I just thought maybe you were tired of dealing with boys and was ready to deal with, well, a real man.” He said, a confident smirk as he took a step closer. He smelled heavenly, like expensive cologne and a smoky smell she couldn’t quite place. “Which is why I was wondering if you’d give me the pleasure of accompanying you to Hogsmeade this week. I was thinking maybe I could take you shopping, then to that little bookstore I know you like, and then if you’re feeling me, dinner? My treat of course.” He said, placing a delicate kiss on her hand. She was taken back to say the least. Sure, she had suitors approach her since her and Fred split, but none of them had done so in such a way as Blaise had. None of them had the confidence or flair.

“You know what Zabini? I think I’d love that very much. Swing by my dorm beforehand. I prefer when they’re early.” 

“Great, it’s a date then! Come with me to Quidditch practice? I’d love to show you off.” He said, holding out his hand. As she grabbed it, her heart fluttering in the distance someone else’s heart was crumbling. 

Fred felt like an utter fool and idiot as the gorgeous girl got more and more distant as the pair moved down the hall. He felt like his heart had a bullet in it and he was left to bleed. He had lost the best woman who would ever enter his life. He felt a tear drop down his face as his heart clenched.

“Come on mate, give it up. I told you to slow down but you thought you were hot shit. Let her live her life, you clearly already lived yours.” George said as he began to lead Fred the opposite way.

There goes the alarm

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