#dean winchester reader inser

[waynes-multiverse]

Ok hear me out. I got this idea after the episode of Dean getting his "virginity" back and hooking up with the porn star when he's digging through her dresser and finds the DVD of her ANYWAY

Best friend Dean who's been pining after you for sooo long but doesn't want to fuck it up and lose you. You're hanging out when you ask him to go grab something from your room and he's digging through your drawers looking and accidentally comes across some lingerie and now it's days later and he's so hot and bothered cuz he can't think of anything else (the boy has a serious panty kink lets be honest) and you catch him in your room going through your drawers again and OH

A/N: As I warned y'all, this is a longer DD because, well, the prompt was long, so it's not really my fault. All that backstory took on a life of its own, but I think no one will be mad about it 😅 Again, I had tons of fun with this one! You'll see 🤣

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Warnings: +18/NSWF, a ridiculous heat wave, friends to lovers (Wayne's Version), crack, a panty kink, some sneaky fluff, and some hot lovin' aka smut (oral f & face sitting)

Word Count: 4.5k (whoops)

Main Masterlist || Dirty Drabbles

Cruel Summer

“You open the beaches on the 4th of July, it’s like ringing the dinner bell for Christ’s sake…”

As Jaws flickered across the screen in the Dean Cave, the green-eyed hunter adjusted himself in his seat. Usually, he had perfect control over himself and his feelings for you.

But on some days – like today – when you sat right next to him on the couch in nothing but a loose t-shirt and some short sweatpants, fanning yourself with an old magazine of Busty Asian Beauties as beads of salty sweat collected on your forehead and trickled down your neck, you made it hard for him.

“God, I’m so hot,” you sighed exhaustively and sunk further into the couch cushions, lifting your shirt from your sticky skin to let some cool air to your boobs as a heat wave ravaged through Kansas.

Painfully hard.

“Dean?” You pouted with your best puppy dog look at your best friend.

“Huh?” Dean was in trance, watching you more than the movie, always on the edge of getting caught one of these days.

“We’re out of Sour Patch Kids. I have more in my nightstand. Can you get them for me please?” you asked sweetly. “I don’t wanna move. I might actually die from heat exhaustion.”

Dean sighed and wordlessly rose from his seat. He knew you always kept an array of salty and sweet midnight snacks in your room in case you got hungry and didn’t want to wander into the kitchen in the middle of the night.

Moreover, he was grateful for the break. God knows he couldn’t stand to be around you any longer, or he would’ve been too tempted to rip your clothes off and really make you sweat.

I’ll show her a damn heat exhaustion, he thought with a scoff.

Hastily grabbing the desired snack, his green eyes then caught something red and lacy sticking out from the first drawer of your dresser. The hunter knew the decent and honest thing would’ve been to just keep moving and leave your godforsaken room.

Turn around, as Bonnie Tyler sang. But for some reason, his bright eyes couldn’t resist, his curiosity overtaking him.

Dean opened the drawer with the intention to push the naughty little clothing item back into its place and out of sight. Get rid of the temptation, so to speak. It sounded like the perfect loophole. He got to touch it and look at it, but for a very heroic and noble reason – not because he was a creepy perv, violating his best friend’s privacy.

On some level, Dean knew he’d never stand a chance with you. He wasn’t good enough. He had so much baggage all his suitcases wouldn’t even fit into the bunker.

A damn touch of a pair of panties you weren’t even wearing was all he would ever get from you.

But then his fingers touched the soft and see-through material, his pads tracing every delicate scarlet thread with precision and care. It was game over for him then and there, cursing himself internally for not resisting harder as his cock twitched joyfully in his jeans.

Dean had laid his eyes on you the second you strolled with swinging hips into that diner in Wichita for your very first case together, a werewolf hunt six years ago. And he had managed to get by without an incident for years since then, even when you moved into the bunker, being rather proud of that achievement. He never wanted to lose you as a friend and didn’t dare to cross a line. Ever.

Recently, though, it became more difficult to keep his distance and not let his thoughts wander. His feelings were magma that slowly had filled a volcano over the years. Each time you did something sexy or sweet or goofy or smart, another drop was added. And now, that damn fire mountain was overdue for an eruption – no thanks to that stupid heat wave.

“Thanks,” you said absentmindedly as the hunter handed you the candy but didn’t settle back down. Instead, he stood behind the sofa and leaned his hands on the backrest.

What you didn’t know, though, was that Dean was sporting quite the boner and wouldn’t dare to come into your line of view. He was surprised he could even walk up straight and not like a caveman early in the evolution.

A hunter gathering panties.

“I’m gonna hit the hay,” he told you with a somber clear of his throat. As the fan carried a breeze of your perfume to his nose, his grip tightened on the couch.

You turned in your seat and looked over your shoulder at him, raising a surprised brow. “Already? But the movie’s not over.”

“Yeah, I’m beat,” he excused and tried his best not to look strained. He forced a tight smile to his lips while his little dude celebrated Spring Break in his jeans. “‘Sides, we’ve seen Jaws like a million times now, Y/N.”

It was a cherished summer tradition between the two of you, watching it every 4th of July.

“I guess so.” You shrugged disappointedly, watching your best friend retreat to his room. Truth was, you loved spending time with Dean and held those little traditions close to your heart.

The Winchesters were your family, the only one you ever had. And while some families wore matching pajamas on Christmas morning, you watched the first two Die Hard movies. You would watch Dean’s favorite horror movies on Halloween. Sixteen Candles and High Fidelity on your birthday, Tombstone and The Great Escape on Dean’s, and some lame-ass foreign language documentaries that you both snored through on Sam’s.

Valentine’s Day was a dreaded non-holiday for all three of you, but for the past four years, someone would leave a box of chocolate in front of your door. The salted caramel ones would always be missing, and it always came with the same Forrest Gump quote:

I’m not a smart man, but I know what love is.

You knew the anonymous someone was Dean, and you knew he meant it as a joke. Still, you clung to those little traditions. They might seem silly and stupid to some, but to you, they were your lifeline in a world full of darkness.

So, you felt rather saddened Dean didn’t seem to honor them anymore. It wasn’t just Jaws, either. He’d been withdrawing from you for a while, and you didn’t understand why.

Unbeknownst to you, the green-eyed hunter had kept a lacy souvenir from your room.

Now, Dean had managed to avoid you for four days. Every night since his stealthy excursion, he would lie in his bed with your stolen panties in one hand and his throbbing length in the other, feeling goddamn pathetic for sinking so low.

It was probably so low that even his memory foam mattress would remember it.

With closed eyes, he then imagined how the perky globes of your ass would look like covered in crimson lace. How you would stretch out on his bed on all fours, with your ass high in the air and wiggling in front of him. How his fingers would push the wicked material aside to push into you, taking you deep and hard while you moaned his name.

As he ruined tissue after tissue, the guilt would wash over him as soon as he was done. Call it a post-nut epiphany.

Dean knew it was wrong to think those things. He knew he only made it harder for himself to ever look you into the eyes again. Hell, he barely could do it now, even though a part of him audaciously wondered what other treasures were hiding in that drawer of yours. And more pressingly, what ultimate wealth he would find beneath your clothes. If your lingerie was gold, he’d be a creepy-ass dragon sitting on it.

So, Dean tried to avoid you as best as possible. Mostly because, well…

“God, fuck me,” you groaned exhaustively and opened the refrigerator door, leaning against it as the refreshing cold hit you from behind. On top of that, you held a big bag of frozen peas to your sweaty chest. You already wore the bare minimum – some short denims and a white tank top, your hair up in a messy bun.

“I swear underboob sweat is the worst. Just be glad you don’t have tits,” you complained. “Guys, seriously, can we invest in an AC? This heat wave is killing me! This bunker is like one giant oven…”

You watched as Dean squirmed in his seat as he ate his cereal, looking as uncomfortable as you. Surely, the boys were suffering just as badly during those sweltering temperatures, already forgoing the usual flannels and opting for plain t-shirts instead. How they were still wearing jeans was beyond you. When you first moved in, you protested against Dean’s suggestion of Naked Tuesdays, but these days, you were actually giving it a second thought.

“Well, I’m gonna drive to Kansas City today and see if I can get us an AC. Apparently, they’re all sold out, but I figured maybe with a bit of flirting and some cleavage, I can still get us one,” you explained your plan with a bright smirk and wiggled your eyebrows. “What d’you guys think, huh?”

Dean then abruptly banged his fist on the table, spilling some milk from his bowl on the surface. “For God’s sake, Y/N!”

You frowned in confusion at his unexpected outburst. “What’s up with you? Are you having a heat stroke?”

“Flirting, really?!” the hunter barked, his brow shaped into a deeply furious v.

“What’s wrong with that? Double standard much? You do it all the time to get shit,” you countered and watched his jaw clench in anger.

“I do-... not,” he remarked snappily with a fierce finger drilling into the table, clearly lacking a good argument. Sam cleared his throat in agreement with you, but that only earned him a glare. “And Jesus fucking Christ, would it hurt you to put on some goddamn clothes? You’re not even wearing a bra!”

“Did you not hear my tits rant just now? Of course I’m not! ‘Sides, those boobs are gonna get you an AC, so be a little more grateful to them,” you retorted, annoyed with his attitude. You’d think of all the people in this world, Dean Winchester would understand. (And maybe even appreciate it.) “And how can you even tell, huh?”

“‘Cause science, Y/N! You’re literally cooling your tits! What did you think was gonna happen, huh? Nipples!” he vented outrageously. “This ain’t a strip club!”

“It’s 102 degrees, Dean!” you argued, throwing your arms up. “Look, if I could, I’d even go naked, alright? It’s fucking hot!”

“Oh, for crying out loud!” Dean shook his head and stormed out of the kitchen without any further comment.

Confused, you blinked at the younger Winchester. “What’s up with him?”

But Sam only shrugged, shaking his head. “Uhm, I don’t know,” he replied, although he could take an educated guess, suspecting his brother’s feelings for you as the culprit.

“Well, alright, I’m going to Kansas City,” you decided without wasting another thought on the older Winchester’s strange behavior. “Text me if you guys need something. I can pick it up on my way home.”

Dean knew he was in deep trouble as his bow legs bolted down the bunker’s hallways. He tried so hard to keep it together, but when he saw you, half-naked and panting in front of the fridge, he quite literally lost his coolness in this goddamn heat wave.

The green-eyed hunter understood a thing or two about torture, but this was the worst of all. He’d rather have a demon repeatedly peel off his skin in hellfire than endure a day more of this fucking madness.

If the temperatures didn’t drop soon, it would be a cruel summer ahead of him.

As Dean heard the door to the garage close, he knew you’d left for your trip and exhaled a deep sigh of relief. At least he’d get a few hours of peace.

With the best intentions, he strolled to his bedroom, but as he passed your room on his way, he found the door ajar. Whatever good motives he had up until this point, went quickly out the window right then.

His hand twitched at the thought of more riches, worse than any trigger finger and competing with a California earthquake, and well, so did the dick in his jeans. It was an addiction at this point, an obsession he couldn’t resist nor get rid off. The fact that it was forbidden and wrong only made it even more appealing. The apple in the garden of Eden.

Unfortunately, there wasn’t an anonymous support group for this kind of sickness.

As unbearable shame and guilt collected in his stomach like rainwater in the gutter, his eager hands rummaged through your dresser drawer. There was purple lace and black satin, navy G-strings and white Brazilians. It was never ending, and the hunter couldn’t stop as he picked up each item and let his fantasies roam wild.

God, the things he wanted to do to you were as colorful as your rainbow full of underwear.

“Dean?!”

The green-eyed hunter froze in his place, a white lace panty still bunched up in his large palm. The hair in the back of his neck stood up in shock, a part of him refusing to turn around at the sound of your voice. He was caught red-handed, and he knew it.

“What are you doing in my room?” you prompted, suspiciously cocking an eyebrow. It looked fairly obvious what your best friend was up to, but you didn’t want to accuse him right away, giving him the benefit of the doubt.

Frankly, it was quite unbelievable.

“It’s not what it looks like,” Dean replied and swallowed thickly, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he held up his hands like a criminal during an arrest, the evidence still in his grasp.

“Well, it looks like you’re snooping through my lingerie,” you pointed out bluntly.

Dean nodded, guilt-ridden and reluctant. “I can explain.”

“Good,” you said, crossing your arms over your chest. “I’m waiting…”

“Right, uhm…”

“Oh, before you scramble for an answer, you should know, though, that I’m aware a pair of red lace panties is missing, and I know the washer didn’t eat them,” you said and raised an expectant brow.

You had a feeling your pervy best friend was behind the mystery of the missing item. Now you knew for sure.

“Man, I always knew you were a kinky son of a bitch, but this is a new level, Dean,” you scolded.

Dean’s gaze dropped to the floor in shame, scratching the nape of his neck. “Look, uhm, there’s no good excuse. I know I fucked up here. I’ll sleep in a motel tonight until I find my own place. You can stay here with Sam, alright? I’ll move out and won’t bother you anymore.”

As he tried to brush past you, you blocked his exit and grabbed his arm. “So, you’re gonna leave? Just like that?”

“What other choice do I have? I don’t wanna make you more uncomfortable,” he stated without glancing at you once. He couldn’t bring himself to look into your eyes and see the disappointment and disgust there. “I know what I did was wrong.”

“Oh, so wrong,” you agreed. “I just figured you wouldn’t run away like a coward and take your punishment like a man, you know? Aren’t you at all curious what I’m wearing right now?”

That was when Dean’s juniper eyes slowly wandered to you and caught your gaze for the first time. You smirked as his breathing became heavy and his look darkened and filled with lust. It seemed like he wanted to rip your clothes off with his goddamn bare teeth like a wild animal.

“I can’t tell if you’re joking or if I’m dreaming,” he admitted, his deep voice part harsh swallow and part nervous chuckle.

“Neither,” you said, biting your bottom lip.

Carefully, you leaned closer, your hands reaching up to cup his scruffy cheeks. Noses nuzzled as your lips ghosted against his with a daring grin. You wouldn’t go further; it was up to Dean to make that final decision.

And then, as no more than a mere second ticked by on the clock, the hunter crashed his lips against yours in a kiss so scorching it made the current heat wave look like an ice age. If you thought you were hot before, now it felt like you were burning in a wildfire.

Dean roughly pushed you against the door, his kiss all teeth and tongue in an uncontrollable frenzy. His dick was hard and thick, straining against his jeans and rubbing along your thigh. Pantingly, you gasped for air and grabbed his hand, guiding it down your body and into your shorts.

“Feel that?” you asked mischievously as his fingers dug through your soaked folds and collected the arousal he caused. A wanton growl left his plush lips. “All for you, baby. You’ve been a bad boy, haven’t you?”

“Shit, yeah, so bad…” Dean rasped huskily against your throat as he worshipped his path down your body, forcing your shirt up till his wet tongue rolled over your pert and still cold nipple.

“Gonna make it up to me, huh? Show me how sorry you are?” you prompted, your fingers raking through his sandy blond and soft hair, eliciting a groan from him every time you tugged a little harder.

Teeth pinched your skin, tongue cherished your taste, and lips left your throat bruised. It was equal parts hot, sweaty, messy, naughty, dirty, and sticky as your bodies rutted against one another, looking for dire release.

With swollen and plumper than before lips, he came back up for air and found your eyes. He kissed you with heated passion once more as if he couldn’t resist to touch you over and over again. He had to restrain himself to be able to speak.

“So, uhm, you sure about this?” Dean asked between labored breaths with an insecure gleam in his green eyes. “‘Cause if we go further, I don’t think I can stop. And I don’t mean just this time but ever… If you want this to be a one time thing, you gotta tell me, sweetheart, so I can mentally prepare myself. I mean, I’ll take what I can get, you know? Not that I care either way… Well, that’s not true. I do care. A lot… But, you know, you’re you, and I’m me, so I’m not delusional. I know there’s no way you would–”

You interrupted his babbling with a kiss, causing the hunter to lose his words. You looked deeply into his eyes and offered him a small smile of comfort.

“Dean, listen to me, okay? ‘Cause this is very important,” you urged, your hands gripping his shirt tightly.

He nodded, gulping anxiously. “O-Okay.”

“You’re incredible,” you said and watched him inhale sharply at your words, blinking at you in disbelief. “Absolutely fucking bonkers incredible. You’re right – you’re you. And thank God you are, because you’re the best, funniest, smartest, kindest, and goddamn hottest man I’ve ever met. I’m tired of you not seeing that. As my boyfriend, I really need to you to see that, alright?”

As Dean pensively took in your words, his brow began to furrow. “Boyfriend?”

The corners of your mouth rose to a beam. “Yeah, boyfriend,” you confirmed. “That’s what you want, right? ‘Cause I’d really like that, too.”

“Uh, yeah, yeah… That’s what I want.” Dean nodded eagerly before another swallow followed. “I mean, among other things…”

You bit your lip, smirking. “What other things?”

“Well, uhm…”

Dean didn’t finish his sentence, his lips impatiently claiming yours instead. He pressed you hungrily back against the door, massive hands sliding down your sides till they hooked into the hem of your denim shorts and ripped them down to your ankles, leaving you only covered in teal lace. He growled shamelessly at the sight, his thick digits eagerly diving inside.

“Wanna be inside you,” he groaned into your ear, thumbing furiously at your clit. “Every hour of every day…”

“We can do that,” you agreed with a giggle, your arms locking around his neck, fingers carding through his hair in the back.

“Wanna feel your mouth around my–” The last word was muffled as he ravaged your neck, but you understood where he was going with this.

“You can do that,” you said with a smile.

“And fuck, I want you to ride my face,” he declared. That demand left you speechless, making even Dean stop for a minute and look at you. “Too far?”

You shook your head and smirked. “I can do that.”

Before Dean’s mind could fathom your words, you shoved him onto the bed, his back hitting the mattress. When you stood before him, slotted between his muscular legs, his gaze trailed up and down your body, memorizing every beautiful curve. As your fingers curled into the waistband of your panties, however, the hunter stopped you.

“Leave ‘em on, sweetheart. Don’t you dare take those off,” he told you, his hands rapaciously reaching out to you.

You played with the hem of your top and smirked, your tongue licking over your lips. “What about this? On or off?”

“Off,” he shot back faster than a bullet leaving a barrel.

“You first,” you demanded and grinned. “Remember, this is still your punishment.”

“God, I love getting punished,” Dean mumbled and slipped out of his shirt. He then swiftly shimmied out of his jeans, discarding each item carelessly around the room.

He then took a deep breath as he tugged the waistband of his boxers, his erection already fighting its way out. “Well, here goes nothing,” the hunter said and pulled his underwear down.

You tilted your head to see his hard cock from a better angle as it sprang against his stomach. Your lips parted in anticipation, wondering what he’d taste like on your tongue and how deep you’d be able to take him. You guessed there’d be a struggle ahead, considering how huge and wide he was.

“Oh, I would not call that monster nothing,” you commented with a scoff, your pussy throbbing with need. “Explains all that BDE.”

Dean blushed. It was cute to watch. “Thank you.”

Giggling, you removed your shirt and tossed it at his face, blinding him for a second. You used that momentum to slide onto the bed and straddle his torso. As his eyes finally found you again, he almost choked on his spit when he gazed up at your perfect tits above him. A primal grunt escaped his throat.

With a mesmerized sparkle in his eyes, his hands trailed up your body and cupped your breasts, massaging them roughly as your panties grew damper by the minute. He then pulled you down to his lips and kissed you breathless before he left them with a boyish smirk on his freckled face.

“Hop on, sweetheart.”

And as if his words hadn’t been enough motivation, his hands wandered to palm your ass and hauled you closer to his mouth. He was an impatient one – or maybe he’d waited years for this and was finally tired of it.

Your knees sunk into the mattress on either side of his stubborn head. His fingers dented your flesh as they grabbed onto your thighs. Yours held onto the headboard for support. You tried not to look down, because then you’d see his big lopsided and full of excitement grin.

The same one he had when you found a diner in Kentucky that advertised the biggest burger in America (it wasn’t). The same one he had when he thought he had run into a member of Metallica at a gas station outside of Phoenix (he didn’t). The same one he had when you and Sam gifted him his own beer brewing station for his last birthday (which tasted horrible, but neither you nor Sam had the heart to tell him).

And now, he had that same grin when he was about to be with you.

As your pussy dripped above him, Dean couldn’t hold back his lewd groans any longer. You didn’t even have to lower yourself; he just dragged you down onto his face all to eagerly. His fingers swiped your panties to the side, and before you could even adjust your grip on the bedpost, his tongue darted into your soaked channel as deeply as he could and sucked you goddamn dry.

With several whimpers, you clenched around his wet muscle. If you were water in the desert, he was parched and drinking to survive.

His nose was buried in your folds, rubbing deliciously against your clit as he lapped your pussy in a vicious attack that left you squirming and moaning to a pornographic degree above him. Because Dean was just that – pure porn.

Instinctively and irresistibly, you ground your cunt against him, the vibrations of his keen groans against your sensitive flesh rocking you to the edge of your climax. He ate you out and devoured you like that damn gigantic burger in Kentucky. And as you dared to blink down and watch him in action, he had the audacity to devilishly smirk up at you with the crinkles around his green eyes alone, gauging your every reaction to his touches as if you were a goddamn movie on a silver screen.

You trembled and quivered and screamed as your orgasm electrified every molecule in your body. You white-knuckled the wood in your grip, your body only held up by Dean’s strong arms because God knows your weak legs were useless now.

As wave after wave washed over you, Dean drank every drop of yours, his tongue never getting enough of your taste. The sounds that filled the room were carnal and obscene.

“Fuck, Dean,” you sighed blissfully and lifted off his face and captured his swollen and red lips in a grateful kiss, your palms finding purchase on his broad shoulders. Your drenched and sensitive cunt settled on his thighs as an egregiously large erection poked your belly and tempted you further.

Dean smirked up at you, all satisfied and confident with his achievement. “I think we have a slight problem, though.”

Your brow knitted, your heart tightening with anxiety. Had you been as disappointing as the burger, beer, and that fake Metallica band member?

But Dean only grinned teasingly at your confused face. “There’s no way I learned my lesson here.”

You snorted and sought out his lips, the kiss giving you a taste of yourself. “We’ll work on that. I might have to nickname you Jaws after this,” you joked.

“Can’t wait for you to explain that one to Sammy.” Dean snorted, chuckling. “Now, how about you hop on again, but this time a little further south, huh?” he proposed with a wiggle of his eyebrows and a suggestive twitch of his cock for emphasis.

You giggled with a few nods. “I can do that.”

Was it worth the words? 😝

For all you newcomers and as a general reminder, Dirty Drabbles are always open. I still have quite a few left, but you're welcome to send more in, and we'll add it to the collection at some point 😎🔥

PUT YOUR DIRTY THOUGHTS HERE

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[there-must-be-a-lock]

Gone

Dean x Reader

Word Count: 495

Warnings: Non-explicit sexy stuff. Dean’s self-loathing. 

A/N: For @impala-dreamer‘s End of the Year Quickie Challenge! You don’t wanna know how many words I had to cut from the first draft. Inspired by the prompt, “whiskey’s gone.” 

Dean rolls the glass between his palms, staring at the last twinkling drops of gold. He’s smiling, remembering the night they met. He can’t help but smile, still. 

Most of that night is in soft focus, hazy in his memory, but a few things stand out, sharp and clear. 

She didn’t smile easy, back then; it took him a while to coax it out, but fuck, that grin. It was lethal, pure honed steel, and it cut him open. 

There’s the freeze-frame just before he kissed her: a drop of whiskey on her lip, reflecting the blue of a neon sign. 

Memories like strobe flashes: the way she bit her lip when he opened the door of the Impala, streetlights catching her silky hair as he drove, her laugh as she fumbled with her keys, the decisive noise of her door closing behind them, the finality of the sound. 

She hissed in a breath when he nipped at her collarbone. The swoop of heat in his stomach felt like falling. 

He remembers the sting in his scalp, electricity down his spine, the way she pulled and directed: there, harder, fuck, don’t stop, don’t fucking stop… he remembers the way she shook, twitched, thrashed, how he had to hold her down, pinning her to the mattress as she rubbed herself against his tongue and dripped down his chin. 

He remembers not wanting to stop, after; he lay his cheek on her soft thigh and slid his fingers into her lazily, looking up at her flushed, heaving chest while she covered her face and cursed at him. He went in for another taste, licking between his fingers, and he remembers the way she grabbed him by the hair again and growled, need you right fucking now. 

He remembers sliding into her, the way she moaned, throaty and shameless, dragging her fingernails down his back. He remembers how hot and slick and perfect she felt, like nothing else, and - 

He doesn’t usually let himself remember. He tries to hold the memories back. But the bottle’s empty, and he’s alone, and she slipped through his fingers like everything else he’s ever wanted to hold onto. 

It’s his own fault; he has nobody else to blame. I don’t do relationships, he’d told her. That was a one-time deal. 

And a year later: go for it, I’m happy for you.

She’s happier this way. He tries not to remember. 

“Dean?” he hears. 

There they are. Sam’s got his arm around her. They’re both beaming. There were times when Dean would’ve given a kidney (his soul, whatever) to see Sam smiling like that. 

“Gonna stay, have a nightcap,” she tells Sam, and he kisses her on the forehead, waves goodnight. 

“Whiskey’s gone,” Dean mumbles. 

“S’okay,” she grins. “I’ve got you.” 

She pulls a brown-bagged bottle from her purse. Dean almost says something stupid, like that’s why I love you. 

“Cheers,” he says instead. 

She smiles. It slices him open, same as always. 

.

.

.

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[huntertales]

Part Two: How Did It Make You Feel? (Clip Show S08E22)

Episode Summary: Sam, Dean and the reader share a bitter reunion with Castiel after finding the angel beaten and bloody in the middle of the road. While digging through the Men of Letters’ files, they stumble upon an undiscovered film which could be the key to completing the third trial. Meanwhile, Crowley digs into the reader and boys’ past, putting people they saved in mortal danger. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader Word Count: 3,490.

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The drive to St. Louis took about eight hours, something you thought you could handle considering there wasn't much to do on your part but sit there and let Dean drive there. You and the boys made your one and only stop to the church Father Simon had been at since he first got ordained as a priest. He possibly was the only one who could explain the things that you saw on that film. If your suspicions were correct, you had a feeling you stumbled upon the very thing you had been looking for when it came to finishing the final trial. And other things you had been thinking about for years. The only way to be certain was talking to the last remaining person alive from that night to tell you what happened after the camera stopped rolling. 

During the drive here you sent a text to Cas for him to look over the file and send you over the exorcism they used. You translated it best as you could from the Latin that you knew, along with a little help from a translating website you pulled up on your phone. Mostly it sounded like what you’d expect from an exorcism to get a demon out of a human host. What threw you off was the last word you heard the priest shout—lustra. Cas said it translated into “wash” or “cleanse.” That was what threw you through a loop. Why include that word and put human blood into a demon? You were hoping Father Simon has some answers to your questions that were quickly piling up. 

Father Simon was taken off guard by the sight of three faces asking about a night he tried desperately to wipe away from his mind Here you were, forcing him to relive the memory he repressed over five decades ago. You sat in one of the pews with Sam, listening to what else he could provide you with from what the file couldn’t. While you were becoming intrigued with the thought of possibly saving a demon’s soul, Father Simon found it all still disturbing from the way he described it to you. People of faith always wanted to save damned souls from facing the eternal fires of hell. It seemed Father Thompson was determined to go even farther than anyone had ever before. 

“Father Thompson had some unorthodox ideas, which is why the Men of Letters were interested.” Father Simon told all of you what he could remember. You furrowed your brow slightly from what he meant by unorthodox, Sam asked what the other priest meant by saving. “A demon is a human soul, twisted and corrupted by its time in Hell. Father Thompson believed that you could wash that taint away and restore their humanity.”

“Make them human again?” You asked him if that’s what he meant, Father Simon merely shrugged his shoulders. He presumed that’s what the priest tried to do. You felt a light bulb go off in your head if what he was saying was true. All of it made sense. “So, what, they just stay in whatever body they’re possessing and get a ticket upstairs?”

“I wish I knew.” Father Simon bleakley answered your questions. 

Okay, but this ritual...” You pressed him more for any kind of information he could provide you with. “Can cure a demon?”

“I suppose, if it worked, but that night, something went terribly wrong. The demon escaped into the world, and that poor old woman...It was horrible.” Father Simon’s recollection of the memory and what you saw on film was enough to emotionally scar someone for life. And make the priest realize there was some souls not worth saving. “I know father Thompson kept trying. One of the Men of Letters did as well—Andrew Y/L/N. Both of them worked on other possessions, experiments, but I couldn't face that—not again. And then, a few months later...Father Thompson was dead. As for Andrew, it was like he vanished. I’ve never heard from him again.”

“What happened to Father Thompson?” Dean asked the priest.

“Something tore him apart.” The response was enough for you to connect the dots on your own. All of this was starting to make sense. From the experiments you saw on film. What Abbadon said to you when she got you alone. Why it was your father who was turned into a demon. 

“Did he keep any, uh,” You asking the priest something, but you were caught off guard from a tickle in your throat. You coughed a few times into your palm before attempting to speak again. “Did he keep records or—“ All you managed to get out was a few words before you continue on your coughing fit you hadn’t dealt with in a while. You tried not to think much of it until you caught sight of a dark crimson red in the palm of your hand. It was blood. “Uh, do you have a bathroom, maybe?”

Father Simon pointed to the back of the church, you smiled and mumbled a thank you before sliding out of the chair, Sam following behind you to make sure you were all right. Even though you hadn’t been okay in a long time, since you started the trials. You knew damn well the boys saw the blood, and even Father Simon was starting to grow concerned at how you looked. It wasn’t the way a woman in your condition should be. He expressed his concerns to Dean when you vanished from sight. 

“Is she all right?” He asked the older Winchester in a worried tone of voice. 

“Uh, no, padre. She’s...pretty damn far from all right. That's why we're here.” Dean gave the priest the truth to the situation. He stood up from his feet and placed both of his hands on the back of the pew. Father Simon stared at the man with a confused expression, not sure how any of this tied in together. “Father, over the past couple of months, I've seen her do crap that I didn't even think was possible. I mean, sure, she’s miserable and she’s hurting, not to mention she’s carrying extra cargo...but you know what? There's not a doubt in my mind that she’s gonna cross that finish line—not one. So, will you help us?”

Father Simon was a man of faith, someone who devoted his life of preaching the word of God to His followers. Offer a place of worship and salvation for those who needed it. He was taught to turn anyone anyway. But there were things he never wanted to witness ever again. One of them was the night of the ritual that took that woman’s life. And demons most of all. The priest nodded his head in agreement before walking back to storage to gather Father Thompson’s belongings for you and the boys.

+ + +

When you got back from your sporadic trip the next morning, the boys wasted no time in digging through Father Thompson's belongings while you searched around the bunker for someone you still expected to be here Sure, you left Cas not on the best terms with one another, but you expected him to stick around. You searched every room you could think of that he might be in to waste time while you were gone. The angel wasn't in the room you provided him with last night. He wasn't in the many archive rooms. He wasn't checking out the dungeon. And you couldn't find a trace of where he could have gone. Not even a note to let you know where that damn angel wandered off to this time. You headed back to the library to inform the boys. 

"I can't find Cas." You said. "You think he blew town?"

"Sounds like him." Dean's remark wasn't what you wanted to hear right now. He shut a journal that appeared to have belonged to the priest, you guessed it was filled with all of his notes and past tests that ended like the fateful night Father Simon had to witness. "So it turns out that Father Thompson recorded all of his demon-cure tests. And he had a partner in every single one of them. Taking notes and observations.”

"Let me guess," You grabbed the journal from Dean's hands, cracking it open to the middle and skimmed the pages to read one test from March of '57. You recognized the handwriting from old photographs with names and dates written when they were taken, not to mention the days when people used to write things down. You saved everything that was your father’s even the tiniest things. Here you discovered so much more than you ever bargained for "Someone by the name of Andrew Y/L/N?"

"Bingo. This one here," Dean picked up a tape from a pile of dozen and lifted it up for you to see. What he had in his hand might be the last remaining trace of your father before hell got their hands on him. And your ticket to locking the doors on those bastards forever. "This was the last one—two days before Father Thompson died."

You threw the journal to the table in favor of the recording when you noticed there was a small piece of masking tape that someone had messily scribbled down the date. The final test was completed in the beginning of August, Father Thompson died on the fifth. one week later almost all the remaining Men of Letters were slaughtered by a demon named Abbadon. Somewhere in the week she penciled in some time to turn your father into what he was trying to fix. For years you wondered how and why. It never made any sense how a demon turned into a human. Now all of the pieces were coming together for you.

You and the boys moved everything to the war room for more space after lugging out the tape player from storage. You still weren't exactly sure what you were about to listen to. You prayed that this was the key that you had been searching high and low for. Every part of you wanted to lock away the very place that ruined your life. What you were born half into and taunted by them. What your father was forced into. You did the honors of turning on the recording and sat down in your seat, nervously anticipating what you were about to listen to.

"The date is August 3, 1958. This is trial nineteen, hour one. Our subject is Peter Kent. Mr. Kent is the father of two young sons, and three weeks ago he was possessed by a demon." You listened to the grainy voice of Father Thomposn as he discussed his last test subject. "I'm going to ask you a question now. When you crawled into Mr. Kent and ate his children, how did it feel?"

You’d seen a lot of gut wrenching things in your days, you even did some unthinkable acts you wanted to forget all about. But the question Father Thompson asked the demon made your skin crawl at the mere image. You subconsciously rested a hand on top of your pregnant stomach when the demon responded with a throaty laugh and replied with one word, “Orgasmic.”

One of the downfalls of listening to a recording of the test and not seeing it filmed like before was that you were left unsure of what was happening when they weren't speaking. You heard the demon let out a sudden scream of pain from something, followed by the voice of your father speaking up on the recording for the first time. "The first dose has been administered." 

“Do we know what padre was dosing number-one dad up with?” Dean asked his little brother.

Sam had been skimming through the journal reading over the notes and summary of each test done over the year. He turned to the very last one and read. “Uh, yeah, Andrew’s own purified blood.” 

“Wait, what?” You were a bit taken aback at the detail you weren’t expecting. “Purified how?”

“Before the both of them started, Andrew went to confession with Father Thompson.” Sam explained to you. 

“This is trial nineteen, hour two.” You crossed your arms over your chest when you heard your father's voice com back onto the recording, bringing your attention back to the test. He asked the same question Father Thompson had just an hour ago. "When you ate his children, how did it feel?"

“Stringy!” The demon replied with another disturbing response. 

Every hour for eight hours either Father Thompson or your father pumped up the demon blood with purified blood after asking the monster a simple question and hoping for a different response. Six out of the eight times every response was the same; grotesque, vile. However as the tape continued on playing, you began to notice changes in the demon’s response around the sixth hour. You heard him start to slowly stop with the snarky responses and attempts to fight what was being done to him. He sounded more broken down, almost...human. 

You found yourself leaning forward in your seat as the seventh hour rolled around. All of a sudden, the sound of a pleading man could be heard—Peter screamed on the top of his lungs for whatever was happening for him to stop. You could hear the guilt in his voice, the fear. Things only a human would be able to feel. 

“Hour eight, the subject is prepped.” The final shot of human blood. 

You listened to the sound of your father's voice as he got ready to finalize the last step of the test he'd been working on for so long. You furrowed your brow slightly, trying to picture what happened all those years ago, what he was feeling at that very moment. How it must’ve felt when he splashed the demon with holy water and saw Peter's skin burn, but no agonizing scream following after. It was the progress he had been praying for. He dropped to his knees and completed the final step he needed to do. What separated him from changing things for the better and sealing his fate was a few simple words of Latin. 

“Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus. Hanc animam redintegra, lustra!”  

Andrew cut his palm with a knife and chanted the words he had spoken over a dozen times with subjects that wouldn't be lucky as Peter. Countless bodies he had to lay to rest to get him where him and Father Thompson had worked so hard for. He placed his bloody palm against the demon's mouth and shouted lustra one more time, and just like on the film, the demon's eyes and mouth filled with a bright white light. You nervously clenched your fists together, wondering what happened next, if what you just heard didn’t end the same. 

Your father grabbed Peter's body up from the ground and asked the soul in his body a question. One last time. "When you ate his children, how did it feel?" 

“They were screaming...And I laughed. Why did I laugh? I’m sorry.” Demons don’t apologize for the things they did.  They don't sound remorseful for the actions they chose. The terrible destruction they caused by their own hands. Demons enjoyed the chaos, murder. Watching people suffer. The person you heard was none of those things. He was horrified with himself. Guilt-ridden at the actions he willingly chose to do. "I'm so sorry. God, I was a monster."

“But now you are a man again.” Father Thompson told the soul. “And you have been saved.” 

You weren't exactly sure how you felt right now after hearing the recording. You turned off the player when you got to the end. A part of you was confused as to exactly what just happened, another wanted clarity that what you heard was real. Everything you knew about demons was forever changed. You looked up at the boys, "Did he just...cure a demon?"

“Maybe.” Dean said. He was still slightly skeptical about this ritual, and rightfully so. He wanted to see this done with his own eyes. “Sammy, could we take this hoodoo on a test drive?”

“I mean, I have the exorcism right here.” Sam said. He turned a page into the journal with a complete set of instructions someone might need in order to cure a black eyed monster. “All we need is the blood, consecrated ground, and a demon. So, what? We summon a demon, trap it—” 

“Or we use one that we’ve already tagged.” Dean cut off his brother, suggesting an easier plan for trapping bait. Why go through all the trouble when you had a demon trapped six feet underground not to far from here. “Do we still have Dad’s old army field surgeon’s kit?”

“It’s in the trunk. Why?” You asked the man. 

“I think it’s time to put Humpty Dumpty back together again.” Dean said. 

You looked over at Sam in hope that he had any clue what his brother was hinting around. The younger man was clueless as you to what demon you had lying around that would be a willing guinea pig for you. But then you remember that pesky little red head with a bullet in her noggin with a devil’s trap marked on the tip, thanks to Henry Winchester. It seemed fitting that Abbadon was going to be the one who was going to be up on the chopping block to get her soul cleansed. She turned your father into a demon against his will. And you were going to watch as she was turned back into the very thing Lucifer hated the most—a human being.

+ + +

The drive to where you buried Abbadon all those months ago was only a few hours of a drive from the bunker. With everything that you needed to conduct this exorcism, all you were missing was a demon and her spare parts you had lying around here somewhere. Since the demon knife didn't work on her, the best plan of action you had at the time was Dean cutting off her head and burying them separately. You’d never done something like this, but it was sort of like leaving a demon in a devil’s trap. She couldn’t smoke out and run away to another host. And she couldn’t even move her body. The bitch was trapped in her own head. But that was the problem. In order for this to work, you figured you needed a body with its head attached. 

Dean’s brilliant idea was to sew Abbadon’s head back onto her body, in doing so, she would be brought back to life. Sort of like Humpty Dumpty. You still weren’t sure if it would work. But you didn’t understand why it wouldn’t. Her body was still in perfect condition as you left it almost three months ago. Sam carried the box with the demon’s head in it over to the abandoned desk you were standing next to her headless body. 

“So you really think this will work?” Sam asked. 

“Dude, we got needles. We got thread. We’ve seen ‘Young Frankenstein’ about a thousand times.” Dean said, sounding optimistic about his plan. “Yeah, we’re golden.”

You did the honors of opening the box of your detached head. You grimaced at the sight of Abbadon's face and bloody stub of a neck with dried blood around the skin. "This is gonna be disgusting." You muttered. You slowly pushed the box over to Sam, giving him a smile for what he was about to do. "Have fun, Sasquatch." 

You knew there was no way in hell were you touching a disembodied head and sewing it back on to a body. You left the task up to the boys after they fought for the task before it was given to Sam against his will. You had to look away a few times while you watched Dean hold the demon’s head with his hand as Sam sewn through the skin nice and tight. It took a little while, but after Sam completed the final stitch, you managed to finally stare at Abbadon without resisting the urge to gag when you heard the scissors get tossed into John’s old first aid kit after he cut the string. 

You weren’t sure how long it was going to take for things to kick start running again, it turned out to be mere seconds until you were staring into a familiar shade of inky malevolent eyes. Abbadon had awoken from her three month long slumber. She stretched her awfully tense feeling neck and let out a sigh of relief, feeling more complete after what you just did. She blinked, letting her eyes go back to the pretty shade of blue that once belonged to Josie. The demon gave the three of you a charming smile and greeted you. "Morning, sunshines." 

[Next Part]

Rewrite Taglist:

@deansquirreljerkwinchester // @everything-i-tried-was-taken // @starswirlblitz // @albot-e // @supernaturalismydrug // @we-are-band-sexuals // @angiewinchestercas // @kaylinfayezink  // @owhatshername1 // @kgbrenner  // @cleo-is-my-doggy // @eeyore1988 // @dakota-dream // @lilylovelyxo // @timetravelingginger // @holahellohialoha //   @quicksilver123456 // @natashacamillas //@lexi-anastasia //@kaylinfayezink //  @deanwnchstr @albot-eh // @rashinyx2002 // @shellybeans //  @icantfindacreativeurl //  @becs-bunker // @oreosatmidnight // @bands-and-shietz // @fabulousmustachesonapolarbear // @clarewinchester // @releasethekracko // @alex-zeppelin // @mega-mrs-dean-winchester // @theskytraveler // @notmoose94 //@assassinofmasyaf // @caswinchester2000 // @savannah-m-99 // @sunlight-dean // @strayrosesbloom // @that-slytherin-over-there // @1000roughdrafts // @its-medeanwinchester // @simplyhemmings

Message me if you would like to be added!

[squirrel-moose-winchester]

This Bed

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Word Count: 1007

Written for: @spndeanbingo

Square Filled: Accidental Kiss

Summary: You get a new bed and all you want to do is break it in with a short nap, but Dean won’t allow it… until he does.

Warnings: Slight Crack and fluff?, Steamy Make-out, Dry Humping, and Implied Foreshadowing of Smut.

Masterlist

Taglist below the cut:

Forever: @dragonchica @waywardbaby @shikaros-blog @winchest09 @flamencodiva @spnbaby-67 @spnwoman @dolphincliffs @musicalmuffindog1410 @prettyinplaid94 @winchesterprincessbride @veevm @claitynroberts @closetspngirl @gracefultrenchcoat494 @emoryhemsworth @linki-locks11 @couldabeenamermaid @puff1408 @herbologystudent252 @atc74 @hobby27 @amanda-teaches @holyfuckloueh @alexwinchester23 @screechingartisancashbailiff @kdcollinsauthor @my-thoughts-on-display3 @ladylaylo @salt-n-burn-em-all @winchestergirl82 @balorrollinsambrose​ @mogaruke @heycasbutt @tumbler-tidbits @izzycolhan

Dean: @wingedcatninja @deanwinchesterswitch @maddiepants @deansenwackles @natasha-baggins @dean-winchesters-bacon @supernatural-jackles @jerkbitchidjitassbutt @adoptdontshoppets @fandom-princess-forevermore @thefaithfulwriter @fangirlanotherjust @janicho88 @waywardnerd67 @that-weird-asian-gorl @kickingitwithkirk

[deanssweetheart23]

The Lucky One

Title: The Lucky One

Summary: The reader had a minor injury and Dean is being his usual, over-protective self. She complains about it and they end up having a fleeting chick-flick moment.

Author: deanssweetheart23

Characters: Dean Winchester x reader

Word count: 978 

Warnings: not much really. Some language, impied smut. FWP mostly.

Author’s Note: This wasn’t in my writing to-do list but after an accident I had today, I was forced to spend most of my day in bed and it just came to me.

Bright light flowed through the open window of your bedroom, the warmth seeping into your skin, making you feel lightheaded. The scent of delicious pancakes wafted through the air and you could hear Sam’s out of tune singing, indicating that he was in a good mood.

Ugh. Today couldn’t suck more.

The sound of heavy boots pulled you out of your self-pity just as the room’s door opened. Your eyes closed in defeat. You didn’t need to look to know who it was. Dean Winchester was notorious for his mother-henning and, even though it was a quality you essentially loved, right now it was slowly but surely driving you up the damn wall.

You groaned, gripping at the sheets around you.

“Go away.” You whined, covering your face with a pillow.

“Wow. Good to see you too, sweetheart.” Dean sassed, laying down next to you, nuzzling your neck. “How are you?”

You scowled, even if he couldn’t see you.

“Me? I’m just peachy. Love being useless.”

Dean huffed a little, not quite a laugh, then pushed the pillow away, his beautiful green eyes springing into view.

“I’m serious, Grumpy Pants. What did the doctor say?”

“That I’m an idiot for falling off the escalator.”

It was mean. You knew that. But you were hoping that by being rude you would force him to leave you alone.

Much to your annoyance, however, he gave you a bitch-face his younger brother would have been jealous of and stared at you expectantly.

Dear God, that man was stubborn.

“Fine. I’ll humor you. He told me not to do much for a couple of days. Rest mostly. And he gave me some anti-inflammatory meds for tonight and tomorrow morning. But you can stop looking like a mum that’s about to go apeshit on her child because the CT scan showed it’s nothing to worry about. It’s mostly external damage. I’ll be fine.”

The green-eyed man smiled, something earnest and cheeky, with a touch of relief to it.

“Told ya. Nothing to worry about.”

You shook your head in annoyance and raised your eyebrows, arms folded before your chest, and shot him a look that under any other circumstance would have terrified him. But not today.

“What?” he inquired, chuckling.

The bastard actually chuckled.

“Are you kidding me?”

“Why?”

“I won’t be able to hunt for at least two weeks. Because I was an idiot. I fight vampires and demons for a living but I injured myself by falling down an escalator. On the subway. That’s… I’m pathetic.”

“No, you’re not. Don’t be too hard on yourself, Y/N.”

It was your turn to look at him with a cocked eyebrow.

“Said the guy who’s beating himself up for everything that goes south in this world.”

Dean smirked, a smirk that was sexy and frustrating and made you want to slap his chiseled face.

“Smartass.” He grinned, crawling closer to you to brush some hair away from your face. “Look. I know that you hate not being able to do everything on your own, being that you’re an independent badass and all, but you have to let me take care of you.” he explained, kissing the tip of her nose. “Sides, sweetheart. It could have been worse.”

You let out a dry chuckle.

“I know. Doesn’t change the fact I feel shitty about this.”

“Well, you shouldn’t. Look at it this way. It’s a chance for me to spoil you rotten.”

“You mean to fuss over me?”

Dean scoffed, pursing his lips.

“Semantics.”

“Dean-”

“You could have sliced your head open, Y/N.” he snapped, his voice wavering slightly. “You fell forward on a moving escalator. So, call me selfish or whatever but I’d rather have you with a scraped hand and an injured knee than with a concussion or God knows what else.”

His eyes were dangerously narrowed as he spoke, jaw clenched and eyebrows knitted together in subtle anger blended with concern. It made you feel guilty, how you had scared him without even realizing it. The thought of you getting heavily injured hadn’t crossed your mind and you had totally forgotten that Dean was a huge fan of Murphy’s law.

So, you wrapped your hand around his neck and pulled him closer, until your nose bumped against his.

“Look. Nothing’s going to take me away from you. Not a human, not a demon and definitely not the subways’ escalator.”

He laughed at that and you nudged him, stretching up to kiss his jaw.

“I’m sorry for being a bitch. I’m just pissed at myself for getting stupidly injured. And I really hate asking for help.”

He nodded and let out a chuckle, pressing his forehead against yours.

“I know. Pot meets kettle and all.”

You smiled, mischief coating your features.

“Pot meets kettle, huh? That’s why you’ve been with me for so long?”

Dean smirked, heat dancing in his eyes. Then, he leaned in until his lips were mere inches from yours and let his hands, calloused and familiar, wander under your shirt.

“Nope. You can thank the mind-blowing sex for that.” He muttered, pressing soft, open-mouthed kisses against the skin of your neck.

You chuckled, despite yourself.

“You’re a perv.”

“I know, kid. But you’re still here.”

You sighed and ran your fingers through his short hair.

“’Course I am. You can thank the mind-blowing sex for that.” You teased, brushing your lips softly against his. He responded, sweet but ardent.

When he pulled away, he looked at you intensely, his eyes mirroring the adoration and love he’d never dare admit out loud.

He tucked a stray of hair behind your ear, that dopey smile still on his face.

“What?”

“Nothing. Just thinking that I’m one lucky son of a bitch.”

You blushed slightly and kissed him again, more urgently this time.

No, Dean. I’m the lucky one.

 Tags: @jpadjackles @supernatural-jackles @ravengirl94 @becs-bunker @impala-dreamer @wordstothewisereaders @imagining-supernatural 

[secretlyswedish]

Phantom of the Opera Sneak Peak

Hello! This is kind of a sneak peak because I got way to excited to post this before it was done ^^ So this is only a small part of the first chapter of a Supernatural Fanfic based on the musical and movie The Phantom of the Opera. Now if you’ve seen the movie/musical you know this is not your typical happily ever after ^^ I hope you enjoy this 

Words: 1074 

Warning: Nothing yet ^^

Disclaimer: This is not a reflection to how I feel about certain characters, if you find it insulting how I wrote the character keep in mind 

1. you don’t have to read this if you find it bad or offensive

2. this is also a crossover and I am trying to base it more to the phantoms characters for a few of the bi characters such as Carlotta and a few other characters not being mentioned in this particular piece so no need to go chop my head off. 

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It was a snowy day in the 1800’s France and the opera l'Opéra Populaire was in full action for the opening night of the opera Hannibal. The owner Rufus Turner wandering the halls with two men both in their late twenties following close behind. One of them, Ed Zeddmore, is walking with his back to Rufus as the other one, Harry Spengler, is following close behind Rufus listening intensely to what the elder is saying, taking notes to every little detail about the opera.

 ‘’And also always keep box five empty.’’ The dark skinned man finished before turning around nearly having the short dark haired man run into his chest. ‘’Do I make myself clear?’’ ‘’Indeed sir! Always keep box five empty!’’ Harry nodded as he hurriedly wrote the sentence down at the end of his half full notebook of notes. Rufus rolled his eyes at him before holding up the little key ring to the opera. Harry quickly stuck his pencil in between his teeth before reaching up for the keys, only to have his partner, Ed to snatch the key ring from the elder mans hand. ‘’Everything is gonna go great Mr Turner! Harry and I have it all under control!’’ he exclaimed twirling the key ring around his index finger, leaning against a paper mache elephant stumbling back a bit when the wheels that the elephant  stood on rolled back from his weight. Rufus frowned at him before turning his back to the two new owners of his opera and opened the door that revealed the back of the stage where a few of the ballet dancers had gathered blocking the way, In front of them stood an elder lady with long blonde hair tied into a knot, dressed completely in black while the dancers wore rather… Revealing clothing. The skirt being made of fabric strings in colors such as gold, red and green. ‘’Excuse me ladies!’’ Rufus called to no avail as his voice was tuned out by their lead soprano. Stumbling slightly she cursed at her dress before going back into her role and started the song. Quickly the ballet dancer made their way towards the edge of the stage, into positions. ‘’That’s a fiesty one it seems’’ Harry called nodding towards one of the blonde  ballet dancers. Walking slowly on purpose to piss of the woman in the dark dress. Only to be pulled into place by the Y/H/C dancer.  ‘’Joanna Harvelle, an extraordinary dancer, when she pleases.’’ Rufus explained as the dancers strutted out to perform their dance. The dancer that had pulled Joanna back into her place accidentally stumbled over the lead sopranos dress and fell out of step along with earning a curse from her. ‘’Sorry’’ She apologised before continuing to dance only being one step behind the others. ‘’Who’s the Y/H/C one?’’ Ed raised an eyebrow at her as she was tugged around by the chains connecting her to the other dancers. ‘’Y/N Singer, she would be an extraordinary dancer if she were to stop  wandering around with her head in the cloud.’’ Rufus explained as the little Y/H/C was pulled back by the other dancers. ‘’Y/N! Pull yourself together!’’ Jo whispered to her before they were ushered off stage by the elder dark clothed woman who crossed her arms over her chest a wooden cane hanging from her elbow. The lead soprano raised her arms to the music turning her back to the audience as the extra actors off stage to start pushing the paper mache elephant, the very one Ed had leaned against earlier before they had entered the stage, onto the stage where a large man dressed in a red faux armour were strutting backwards towards the elephant. The song was nearing it’s end as he tried to step up onto the elephant only to slip and break the step he were to be standing on. Quickly the dancers scurried out bumping into the soprano who were now once again turned towards the audience, Swearing at them for ruining her singing she stomped her foot and her face grew redder and redder as the dancers moved around them attempting to continue their choreography while the extras were pushing, or at least attempting to push, the larger built man up upon the elephants back to no avail. 

Just as the final note played the woman in the front screamed ‘’STOP! Stop stop stop stop what in gods name do you think you’re doing  running out right where I am standing and backing into me as I am singing you little brats!’’ She yelled as she gestured wildly her arms to left and right. Her face and neck red as she took a breath to continue yelling. Quickly moving into action Rufus stepped out from where he had stood. ‘’Excuse me!’’ He called tapping his foot into the floor, catching the casts attention. ‘’Oh thank goodness you are here, did you see what they did they ran out in front of me, stepped on my dress which still is not fixed and then bumping into me while I am to finish of the entire song!’’ The dark haired lead yelled into Mr Turners face as she pointed towards the dancers and then to the extras. ‘’Is this not me who opens the entire show!’’ She yelled stomping her foot and pouting at him like a child. ‘’Mrs Braeden I can assure you I saw but that is not why I a--’’ ‘’No! Of course not! Why should you even listen to me while I am speaking of the future for your opera!’’ ‘’Well actually that is why I--’’ ‘’No! You listen to me either fix this or YOU! Will need to find a new lead SINGER!’’ She screamed her voice squeaking a bit at the word singer. Rufus stared down at the petite mrs Braeden before glancing over towards the dark dressed woman. ‘’Are you finished Mrs Braeden?’’ he asked before stepping around her and moving towards the middle of the stage. ‘’May I please have your attention ladies and gentlemen!’’ He called looking around for Ed and Harry who still seemed glued to the wall after Mrs Braeden outburst. Rolling his eyes Rufus turned back towards the cast his back turned to Mrs Braeden. ‘’There has been rumours of my retirement and I am here today to confirm that these rumours are infact true.’’

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Not completely as exciting as it may have sounded but I hope you enjoyed ^^

[spn-ficfanatic]

Placing this in my top 5 favourite fics list... EVER! Brilliantly written, absolutely hilarious and just generally genius. Don't go past this one guys, it's a must-read!

He Said, She Said

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester x Reader, Cas Word Count: 3,366 Warnings: Smut-adjacent, but nothing detailed. There might be mention of a boner, for the sake of hilarity and awkward Cas times. Language. Mention of a naked, flailing Sam, and a pillow that may or may not be useful at all. A/N: I wrote this for @squirrel-moose-winchester’s 1K follower celebration! Congrats, my dear! You deserve all of them and more! The GIF prompts are below. Whenever the POV/time frame changes, it’ll be italicized and marked with which POV it’s coming from.

Thank you to my beautiful twinny, @pinknerdpanda, for beta’ing and encouraging me during the confusing process of working out the different point of views. Big thanks to @masksandtruths, too, for your wonderful words. I’m glad I was able to heal some of the damage I did with Breathe. ;)

As always, tags are at the bottom. If you’d like to be added, please let me know!

The car is silent, the awkwardness cringeworthy as they all try to avoid looking at each other. Dean’s hands rest on the steering wheel, his fingers drumming an impatient beat against the worn leather as he stares through the windshield, his eyes narrowed. He takes a deep breath and lets it out through his nose, as if trying to calm himself down enough to speak.

“I…how…what the hell was that?!”

“We were undercover-” Sam’s mouth snaps shut when Dean’s hand appears in front of his face, stopping him.

“Nope, I’m gonna stop you right there. That was not how we do undercover. That was too…” he cringes, “…comfortable…for normal undercover. Explain. Now.”

“Dean-” He glares over his shoulder at Y/N, who shrinks into the backseat next to a very concerned looking Cas.

“I will deal with you later,” he grinds out as he turns to look at Sam again. “Go.”

Sam runs a hand through his hair nervously, “A year ago-”

“A year ago?! This has been going on for a year?!”  Sam glares and Dean rubs his hand across his face and sighs, “Sorry, sorry…continue.”

“Okay, so it was during that case in Detroit…”

Keep reading

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

This Evergreen Love (Part 5)

Summary: Enjoy World’s Best Dad? Check out the fiftth part from Dean’s perspective…

This Evergreen Love Masterlist

Pairing: single parent!Dean x kindergarten teacher!reader

Word Count: 2,300ish

Warnings: language, insecure reader & Dean

A/N: Written in Dean’s POV…

Y/N was quiet in bed, slowly falling asleep beside me. She wasn’t sleeping just yet, her hand reaching to hold the one I’d thrown over her waist and clutch it to her chest sending a rush of something through me. Fear. Excitement. Love. I didn’t have a clue what exactly it was but it took my breath away for a moment. 

“Are you sleeping yet?” she mumbled. 

“No,” I said.

“Me either,” she mumbled again.

“You want to talk?” I asked.

“Can you sing?” she asked. No, I most certainly could not sing. I barely let myself sing in front of Gracie and that was in the car to AC/DC or some Seger. “I can’t sleep. I’m still upset about what happened with Gracie at the store.”

“Don’t beat yourself up over that,” I said, giving her a tight squeeze, Y/N happy to let me. She seemed smaller than I was used to. I knew she wasn’t, she was far too sarcastic for it, but a part of me always assumed she was happy and bubbly. She smiled genuinely and laughed like she meant it and it was infectious.

And I was infecting her with my bad it looked like.

“You don’t have to. Sorry,” she mumbled, tucking herself back into me, pausing for a moment. “You meant it when you said you forgave me, right? I just...”

“I love you, Y/N,” I said, leaning over to kiss her cheek, tension running out of her at the simple touch. “S’okay. I promise. I won’t lie to you.”

“Okay,” she mumbled, holding onto my hand tight as she slowly eased back into a semi-sleep, oblivious to the quiet humming I was doing. I couldn’t screw up humming at least. Soon she was relaxed, breathing rhythmic and I sighed happily.

She loved me.

I was planning on making a nice big breakfast for Y/N and Gracie, hopefully any lingering fears either of them had the day before gone now. But Sammy and dad standing in the doorway of the bedroom, Y/N frozen as she held the covers up over herself, not that she even needed to hide, put that plan out the window.

When she was in the shower, I was fuming on the bed like a toddler in timeout. I knew I could get downstairs on my own and give Sam a piece of my mind for barging in on us like that. But that’d only make Y/N mad and I really had been good about not using my injured leg. 

I ran my hands up and down my thighs before I grabbed my pillow, clenching my fists in the sides. I was halfway to putting it to my face to yell into when Y/N came out of the bathroom, wet hair pulled into a messy side braid, a few drops of water staining her pretty pink tank top. Didn’t she hate pink? No, sometimes she liked it if it was a softer shade like the one she had on.

“What’s with the pillow handsome?” she teased. “I forgot I used up the last of my deoderant yesterday. I had to use some of yours.”

“That’s fine. I wouldn’t buy it if I didn’t like the smell,” I said, Y/N humming as she tilted her head at me. 

“It really is okay, what happened with Sam and your dad. Don’t stress, baby,” she said, reaching a hand through my hair. I nodded and let go of the pillow, putting it back at the top of the bed. “Can I ask what the pillow was for?”

No, no. She was going to tiptoe now. I couldn’t have her tiptoeing. Not after the night before. Not after the first ‘I love yous’ came out. She wanted out of this. I mean, why would she want in it in the first place?

“You don’t have to tell me,” she said, sitting down next to me, throwing her arms around my shoulders, wrapping her legs around my waist and giving me a full on body hug, nuzzling into my cheek. “Do you want some breakfast?”

“It’s for yelling,” I blurted out, Y/N lifting her head back so she could look at me. “When I get overwhelmed...I yell into a pillow for a few seconds to calm down.”

“Does that work for you?” she asked. I blinked and she just smiled at me. “The shouting. Does it help?”

“A little,” I said.

“That’s good then,” she said, sliding her legs and arms away, throwing her feet over the side of the bed. “Can I show you something?”

“Sure,” I said. She put a hand on my chest and lightly pushed so I was laying down, her body coming next to me. 

“Okay so this seems pretty silly but I did this in college a lot or when I get nervous at work,” she said.

“You get nervous at work?” I asked.

“Well, not so much anymore. This is my second year teaching so it went a little better than last year. It was still my first at this school though and I’m still only like...a lot of my kids parents are older than me and it’s a little intimidating. I’ve gotten better at handling it,” she said.

“But Gracie adores you. How could you be nervous?” he asked.

“I sort of adore you and your get nervous around me sometimes,” she said. I opened my mouth but she let out a little giggle. “I get butterflies around you too, Dean. I won’t tell anyone.”

“So what were you showing me?” I asked, focusing on the light flush of her cheeks and ignoring the raging fire that must have meant I was full on schoolboy crushing just a few inches from her face.

“Sometimes you don’t always have a pillow, or privacy, so I do this muscle tension thing. You start from the bottom of your body and work your way up. Basically you tense your toes and feet and then count to ten and release them. Then you do your calves, your thighs, abdomen, hands and you keep going until you get to the top of your head. By the time you’re done, hopefully you’re a little less stressed out. It’s just another trick,” she said.

“You get stressed out a lot?” I asked. She put on a fake smile and shook her head no. 

“No. Just normal like everyone else,” she said, looking down. 

“Do I stress you out?” I asked, her head instantly whipping up and shaking.

“No. You’re amazing. You and Gracie,” she said.

“What aren’t you telling me?” I asked, too sharply and she shook her head again. “Y/N.”

“It’s just work stress and family stress. It’s really nothing. You’re way better at this thing than I am,” she said, biting her bottom lip and sitting up.

“Oh,” I said, sitting up with her, wrapping an arm around her waist in case she decided to try and run away from this conversation. “You think that because you’re not a parent, what you deal with is insignificant and not worth the time to deal with.”

“It’s really not,” she said, shrugging, trying to squirm away a little. “I shouldn’t have said anything. Sorry.”

“Why do you apologize to me? You always take care of me. You barely let me focus on you,” he said.

“I don’t need it,” she said, frowning as she said it.

“Why are you in a relationship if you don’t want me to focus on you even a little bit then?” I asked.

“I do,” she said quietly. “But you have more important things to focus on like Gracie or getting better or getting your new job with Benny.”

“So you think you’re at the bottom of the list of stuff I care about,” said Dean. She swallowed hard, really not wanting to be a part of this conversation anymore. “You’re sort of completely wrong. Take it from me. Don’t dig yourself into a hole. It’s really, really fucking hard to get back out.”

“Yeah, but my problems are stupid,” she said.

“No they aren’t,” I said. “I mean, Friday night I saw a tiny part of your relationship with your parents. It would bother me. Mine haven’t even properly met you yet and I know they’re already in love with you.”

“I guess,” she said, squeezing her eyes shut. “Sorry.”

“Stop aplogizing. Please. We’re partners or something like that. You help me, I help you. Right?” I asked. 

“That hole you dug isn’t as deep as you think it is, Dean,” she said with a smile, reaching around to give me a hug. “Do you want breakfast now?”

“Yeah, I’d love it.”

“It’s official,” I said once my parents had left to head back home. “My parents love you. I will be disowned if I get rid of you.”

“No you-”

“No my dad legitimately said that,” I said with a smile. “Not that I mind. You don’t make a half bad Winchester. My parents can be a bit...forward sometimes.”

“Well you’re like pulling teeth sometimes,” she said with a laugh.

“Hey, I was pretty good this morning,” I said. 

“Mhm,” she said, letting out a big stretch. “The kids graduate Tuesday. You excited?”

“Is there any way I can have her stay as a five year old forever?” teased Dean.

“No but there is gonna be cookie cake and you didn’t hear this from me but we totally go all out and buy a ton just for us teachers if you want to sneak a bite from the teacher’s lounge. Huge pieces too,” she said.

“I knew there was a reason I fell for you,” I said, Y/N giggling as I wrapped an arm around her waist. “Up we go.”

“Dean, don’t-” 

“What? Didn’t catch that,” I teased as she hung over my shoulder, laughing as I carried her upstairs. “I work construction. I’m used to lifting all day.”

“I’m really glad you’re okay,” she said, chuckling as we went past Gracie’s room and Gracie let out a giggle.

“You’re supposed to be asleep, munchkin,” said Dean, chiding her as he walked in with you. “You have school in the morning.”

“What are we doing tomorrow, Y/N?” asked Gracie.

“You’re going to take tests, all day long,” said Y/N, Gracie looking mortified. “I’m just kidding, munchkin. It’ll be fun. I promise.”

“Okay. Goodnight,” she said, standing on her bed to get another kiss goodnight from Dean, laughing when she got an upside down one from Y/N.

“Now I want to see that tush asleep next time I come back,” I said, flipping off her light. “Night, munchkin. Love you.”

“Love you too, Daddy,” she said as I pulled the door shut. 

“I got one in bed, now the other,” I teased, carrying Y/N into my room, finally releasing her onto the mattress. “If only picking up all chicks was that easy.”

“Oh my god,” she said, with a massive eye roll. “How did you ever get laid?”

“I’m hot,” I said, Y/N snorting. “Yeah, I don’t really know. I uh, I definitely used to be a let’s hook up, not a relationship kind of guy.”

“Really?” asked Y/N. “You’re so sweet though.”

“I think I’ve always been scared of getting my heart broken so I didn’t really date,” I said. “Then I tried it out for real but it was hard going out to bars with Sammy. He’s got a Stanford education and I, well I’m stupid according to a lot of women.”

“No you’re not,” she said, her face scrunching up. “You’re really smart. You own more books than I do.”

“I started going to different kinds of bars which is how I...I still got hurt in the end. I guess it never really mattered,” I said. “I was always supposed to get hurt.”

“No you weren’t you idiot,” she said. “My boyfriend in college cheated on me with my best friend. The worst part? It wasn’t just a hook up. They started to date. They were still together the last time I spoke to them. They had me convinced it was my fault for the longest time that the whole thing happened. But it wasn’t. Because I didn’t do anything wrong and I got hurt, just like you,” she said.

“You’re probably like the only third legitimate girlfriend I’ve ever had,” I said.

“Third times normally the charm, right?” she said with a smile.

“Yeah. Yeah it is, dork,” I said. “Now, considering I’m all medically cleared and no one has to go back to work or school for a very long time at the end of the week, why don’t we do something fun? Gracie has soccer on Saturday but maybe after that?”

“My family has a camp on Crystal lake. It’s only a few hours drive from here. It’s beautiful, private. I used to love spending summers there as a kid,” she said. “Plenty to do.”

“That sounds like a plan. Maybe next Sunday, gives us time to get stuff together,” I said, knowing Gracie would be thrilled at going on her first vacation ever.

“Sure, Dean,” said Y/N with a big smile. “I can’t wait.”

@baconlover001 @emilymorgan1994 @jensenackesl @captainemwinchester @imissyoualittlemoreeveryday @xfanqirlinq @anokhi07 @akshi8278 @fandom--shipper @xxwinchester-22xx

@zeusmyster @atc74 @aingealcethlenn @pillow223 @alilianamendez @dancingalone21 @smoothdogsgirl @docharleythegeekqueen @jaelami @roxyspearing @kickasscas67 @gallifreyansass @untitled39887 @charliebradbury1104 @quiddy-writes @arryn-nyxx @poukothenerd @feelmyroarrrr @mrsbatesmotel53 @idalinette @evyiione @jayankles @samisimportant @maddieburcham1 @demonic-meatball @hey-um-misha @flufy07 @its-not-a-tulpa @whit85-blog @mrswhozeewhatsis @extreme-supernatural-lover @spn-ficfanatic @starry-chaos @blushingokoye

[huntertales]

Part Two: Bow Down To The Queen. (LARP and the Real Girl S08E11)

Episode Summary: Sam, Dean and the reader investigate the mysterious deaths of two LARPers who were engaged in a game involving an actual fairy. While digging deeper into the game, the boys discover the queen of Moondoor is a familiar face they met just a few short years ago, an I.T. woman named Charlie Bradbury. Word Count: 6,915. Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

A year and a half ago:

Taking down Dick Roman was a long and tedious process over the past year alone with a few casualties that the Winchester brothers didn't think would happen. But in this lifestyle, they knew not everyone lived long enough to see the ending of things. No matter how close they were. The brothers had come to that bitter reality after  you passed on just earlier this year, leaving them to try and navigate things without you. The boys were left wondering if things might have turned out differently if you were here to help them. Figure out a better solution to their plan, do anything in your power to take down the Dick, no matter what you had to do. Or even be a helping hand for a redhead named Charlie Bradbury as she stood outside of the intimidating office that she worked at. Whose boss was none over than the Dick himself. The only person who could attack him from the inside out. The brothers sat in an inconspicuous looking van parked outside the building while Charlie stood just outside the front entrance, having every chance to go in there and get started on the plan. However it was her fears that were keeping her glued to the sidewalk. No matter how much the boys told her that everything was going to work out fine. She kept muttering to herself over the Bluetooth earpiece that she couldn't do this. She wasn't a spy. Sam decided that there was one way that he could get the redhead to calm down. “Listen, who’s your favorite ‘Harry Potter’ character?” Sam asked the woman. While the question made his brother give him a slightly weird look at where he was going with this, it made Charlie focus on her answer, which was the female hero of the series. "Hermione. Well, all right, did Hermione run when Sirius Black was in trouble or when Voldemort attacked Hogwarts?" "No, of course not." Charlie said. Sam had a feeling this angle would work for the woman, he continued on by asking what did the fictional character do. "She kicked ass. She actually saves Harry in practically every book. And then she ends up with the wrong—" “Stay on track.” Sam cut off the woman, making sure she kept focus. “Okay, so she kicked ass, right? So, then, what are you gonna do?” Charlie liked the idea of pretending to be her favorite character and doing what needed to be done. The adrenaline mere seconds ago only lasted for that long before her insecurities came crashing back down on her. "Hermione's an amazing fictional character I could never live up to. She can kick ass. I can’t. I’m just some I.T. girl whose in way over her head." Charlie mumbled to herself as she continued to pace back and forth outside the front entrance of her workplace. "I can't do this. I can't. I can't do this. I can't—"

"Charlie, hey. Calm down. It’s Dean." The older Winchester grabbed the phone from his brother so he could communicate with the woman while he stared at her from the monitor. An idea struck itself up in his mind as he thought about a way to get her to get her to focus. It was gonna take more time than he wanted to waste, and it was going to open up a nasty wound, but if she wanted confidence from a real person, Dean knew exactly who he could talk about. "So you're not like Hermione. She’s fictional. You remind me of someone we knew. Smart, tech savvy.” "Yeah? So?” Charlie asked him, her nerves getting the best of her that wouldn’t let her grasp the big picture. “Was she a badass who could sneak her way into her boss' office?"

“Yeah. And she did so much more. Her name was Y/N. She was our best friend. Very smart and smooth. Could get the hell out of anyone if they dare so looked at her the wrong way. And saved our asses a few too many times. I want you to pretend I’m her.” Dean said. “Okay.” “It’s kinda gonna be hard. All I can picture is you.” Charlie mumbled. “Can you give me a visual representation of who I’m supposed to pretend?” Dean felt his grip around the phone he was communicating to with the redhead tighten slightly. Not because he was growing annoyed at time he was wasting. But having to think about the woman he lost just months ago. Dean cleared his throat as he did just that. He went through the basic information that he remembered, from your height to your hair color. And then your eyes. Simple little features that made it feel harder and harder to speak. Months he spent trying to forget you and here he was, being reminded of every little detail he’d kill to be able to see again. "I remember when Y/N first started hunting with us. Very first case that ended up with me and her getting picked up by the cops. She was freaking out, thinking her life was over. Hover she ended up saving Sammy's life. And just a short while later she managed to fool two FBI agents who were hellbent on throwing me and Sam in jail. But you know what she did? She managed to fool them. I mean, we're talking 'Usual Suspect' twist that we didn't even see coming. Now this was a girl who was a lot like you.” Dean said. “Nerdy. Happy in her own safe, quiet life who was dragged into this life unwillingly. Who could never picture herself doing the things she did. But she managed to overcome all her fears and saved countless lives. Ours too many too count.” Dean found himself rambling on about the woman that made his heart beat faster and ache all at the same time. He found himself moving his gaze away from the small screen and to his little brother, who shared the same bittersweet expression on his face at the thought of you. “She was the real life version of Hermione Granger. And instead of ending up with ginger, she ended up with the better looking one. She was the only one that kept our heads on straight. Whenever I get overwhelmed I just think about her. And it makes me feel a bit better." "Oh." Charlie found herself losing focus once again on her worries that could go wrong and on the woman Dean had talked about. She could tell from his voice on the other line that this Y/N woman meant a lot to him. "She sounds like a total badass." "She...she was." Dean agreed with the woman. "And she would be sitting here with us, cheering you on." "Then where...Oh. Oh." Charlie felt the wheels start to spin in her head of the reason why he was talking about this Y/N woman in third person. Most of the time it was because the person was no longer with them. "She must have been a special woman to you." 

“Hell yeah. Drop dead sexy and smart as hell, mixed with sarcasm as her first language—along with the God knows how many other ones she could speak. She was something special. We were engaged to be engaged, you could say. But that's no here or there. Just pretend that I'm Y/N. She'll be speaking to you and helping you get through this.” Dean told the woman. “Now you're gonna march yourself in there and kick some leviathan ass. Can you do that for me?”

The insecurities she had felt just seconds ago were replaced with the rush of confidence she needed to do this. The redhead nodded her head and headed for the doors of the office building, getting ready to kick ass in her own nerdy way. The Charlie Bradbury way she knew she was capable of.

+ + +

The Queen of Moondoor, who remained in perfect stillness on the police computer screen, was someone the brothers had met once before. It seemed they had met a few new faces while you were gone as they navigated through the year without you. Unlike Garth, she wasn't a hunter. She was someone who had accidentally gotten herself mixed up a situation after being asked to do her job. You turned yourself around in the office chair and leaned back in your seat with your arms crossed your chest, deciding it wouldn’t hurt to see who the redhead was. The boys told you her real name was Charlie Bradbury, an I.T. tech that once worked for Dick Roman. And that’s where the trouble started for her.

The story about how the Charlie and the boys met was nothing you didn’t experience before; girl got caught in the middle of risky business, girl asked to put herself in danger to help take down the monster. Which she agreed to do. But the story had a touch of humor. While you sat back and felt yourself growing a smile as Sam told you about how his brother had to help the woman flirt with a security guard, Dean wasn’t laughing along with you. He kept trying for you and Sam to focus back onto the case you were working on, you kept your focus on his brother as you put your index finger up to shush him for just a bit longer so Sam could finish the story.

"I told you never we were never gonna talk about that again.” Dean hissed at his brother, looking around the station to see if anyone else had eavesdropped on the conversation. You chuckled to yourself at how he was getting himself so worked up, he rolled his eyes from how you were finding humor in all of this. "It wasn't my finest hour. We had to...you know, settle.”

“Sette?” You repeated after the older man, exactly wondering what he meant by that. “How?”

"This, uh, sounds kinda stupid when I say it out loud...but we were barely managing without you. And Charlie was in a bit of a need of someone who was real. Who had done something like this before.” Dean said. You knew that Dean wasn’t the type of person who talked about his feelings openly and well for that matter. But you didn’t care. “So we told her about you and how many times you've saved our asses. I even went as far as to try and pretend to be you. Try to figure out what you would’ve done.”

You felt yourself falling silent for a moment as you stared at the two men that just a few short weeks ago you were yelling and fighting with every second you got. But here you were, trying your hardest not to let your smile grow too wide for someone to grow suspicious while you were here investigating. You compromised by clearing your throat and returning your expression back to a neutral one. However you let a smirk spread across your lips as you turned back around in your seat to face the computer and clicked out of the video now that you didn’t need it anymore.

"See? Shows us all that we're lost without one another. I told you both about a thousand times, but nobody listens to little old me..." You muttered underneath your breath as you finished up what you needed to do on the computer. Right as you were about to turn back around in your seat and face the brothers, you found yourself becoming frozen in your spot as your focus was ripped away from the screen at the sound of what could only be presumed as a scream. “What in the hell was that?”

While you and the boys were looking into the alibi Lance had told you about, you didn't take into consideration that suspicious deaths never took just one body. They always liked to wrack up a body count much high as they could until it was stopped. You and the boys discovered the yells had come from the very man you had spoken to just minutes before, who was broken up about his friends death, but healthy from what you could tell by just looking at him. One minute he was sobbing over his beloved friend and man in arms, now you watched as he got rolled out into a body bag by the coroner. You were just as confused as the rest of the police department about what could have caused Lance to start coughing up blood and how his eyes liquidated from his skull in the matter of seconds. The was no scientific explanation, no supernatural lead either.

“You’re gonna want to see this.” The sheriff said. He'd been here to witness the aftermath of his only suspect's death that came as a shocker to him. You followed behind the man as he lead you to another computer to pull up the security footage taken in the interrogation room. You crossed your arms over your chest as you watched the video of Lance play out almost like normal. But you found yourself fixating on when he started to itch his right arm only to pull up the sleeve. And just a split second later you saw Lance cough up the blood and splatter it all across the two-way glass mirror. "God forbid he was contagious. I'm gonna go dip myself in hand sanitizer."

You couldn't blame the man for feeling the slightest bit paranoid from what he witnessed. You found yourself wrapping your arms tighter around your body at the realization that you touched Lance on the shoulder right before his death. “No EMF, no hex bags, no sulfur.” Dean said. He was lost at what could have possibly been the reason behind all of this. “I got nada. What about you and Nancy Drew?”

“Watch the video again.” Sam seemed to have noticed the same thing you did when he bent over the desk and rewinded the video a few seconds only to stop at the part where Lance pulled up his sleeve. He zoomed in on the video so you could see what was on his arm. “There. See that? Same as Ed’s. I don’t know. Maybe they had matching tattoos. I mean, they were brothers in arms.  You guys recognize it from anything?”

“A Tim Burton movie?” You asked, shrugging your shoulders. Your mind was growing blank from where you might have seen the symbol before in your time. Maybe it was related, maybe it was a small coincidence. “Aside from the mark of the creepy here, the only thing these guys have in common is LARPing.”

"Lucky for us," Sam said. "we know the queen."

+ + +

You weren't exactly over the moon with the idea of spending your afternoon traveling into the place where grown adults spent their weekends dressing up in costumes and pretending to be someone else. Not that you didn't do it almost every day of your life while taking on cases. When you did it you weren't having fun, you were trying to do something functional with your time. Not that you were a stranger of dressing up and pretending you were someone else. You loved doing it, when you were five. Maybe you were being a bit harsh on these people who were just here to have some fun and forget about their reality for a few days.

When you and the boys arrived at Moondoor the festivities were in full swing; all sorts of tents were set up along with colorful flags that represented the different kingdoms. People dressed in costumes that looked almost straight out of the time period they were pretending to be in walked around on the grounds, smiling and enjoying themselves. You looked over at both of the boys to see they weren’t exactly pleased themselves at where this case lead all of you. But it could have been a lot worse. You shrugged your shoulders before you started walking around among the people that made you feel like you were sticking out in a sore thumb from your modern clothes.

As you and the boys were walking the grounds, passing by tents that appeared to be all sorts of shops and food stands cooking medieval foods, you came upon the sight of an active story. You furrowed your brow slightly at how someone willingly would be put into a wooden stock so his hands and head were trapped. A man stood next to him dressed in a white and red checkered outfit, probably some kind of knight you guessed. “I, Boltar the Furious, bind you to this stock so that all of Moondoor may see you for what you are—a thief.”  

“My shadow orc brethren will descend from the black hills and the tents of mo—” The man, who you could only presume was roleplaying as a orc from what you remembered from the video, went on about something. That was, until the fake teeth in his mouth fell right out and onto the ground. But that seemed no problem to be fixed.

You watched as the one pretending to be the knight punishing the orc stopped the game for just a moment so he could help out the man. He picked up the teeth up from the ground and dusted off any dirt with his gloved hand before putting them back into the orc’s mouth, who apologized for the inconvenience. Your face scrunched up slightly when he let the fake teeth be put back into his mouth without even washing them off and continuing on with his revenge speech.

“And the tents of Moondoor will be bathed in blood as we unseat the queen of the Moons from the throne she stole from the rightful heir—the shadow king.” The orc went on as a small crowd of began to grow to witness this “And you—”

“Silentium! Serve your time with honor, heathen.” The knight took out something from his satchel and threw it directly at the orc, cutting him off from whatever that he was about to say. You had to bite your bottom lip to keep yourself from laughing at what you were witnessing. “And if you need to use the chamber pot, stomp your feet thrice.”

"Excuse me, hi." Dean managed to stop the knight named Gerry when he started to walk away so you could have a quick word with him. "You are a LARPer, yea?"

“I prefer the term ‘interactive literaturist.’” He said.

“Right.” Dean said, not really caring what kind of term the kid like to use to justify whatever he was doing. He pulled out his fake badge and showed it to him. “I am Special agent Rosewood. These are my partners, special agent Taggart and special agent Crane.”

"Hold!" Gerry shouted. You furrowed your brow slightly from what was going on, causing you to lift down your arm as he pulled down his hood. It seemed there was a bit of miscommunication here. "Um, guys, we're not doing the whole genre-mash-up thing this weekend. We only do that every third month."

You smiled slightly as you blinked, “Come again?”

“Your fake badges, the cheap suits. It’s very cool. I get it. Your characters are FBI agents that somehow traveled to Moondoor, but I’m telling you it’s straight-up Moondoor this weekend.” He said, presuming you and the boys were like everyone else here. You had never been called out like this in such an awkward way that made you feel like your cheeks were on fire. Sam tried to deny such a thing, saying the badges were very much real. But they weren't. Gerry took the badge out from Sam’s hand to inspect it. "Uh, yeah, they are, and they're very good, but, well, the I.D. number shifted to ten digits with two letters mixed in at the end of the year and the seal’s from last month. Really good work. It’s just that it’s a tournament weekend, okay, guys? So you gotta follow the rules. If there’s no rules—chaos.”  

You found yourself rolling your eyes in annoyance as you shoved the badge into your pocket in realization it would be no use for you. “Resume!” Gerry shouted once again, pulling his hood back up to continue on with things in his character. “If you would like to join the army of Moons, the queen is always on the lookout for new squires.”

“Yes. Right.” Dean said. “Uh, we would like to see your queen now, please.”

“Well, the queen’s calendar is booked up months in advance.” Gerry said. “But if you wish to witness what’s in store for you in her army, her highness is overseeing new squires on the pitch as we speak.”

It seemed if you wanted to get anywhere near the queen you were going to have to follow the rules and play along. You and the boys followed the direction of where Gerry, or Boltar the Furious as he liked to call himself, pointed you in of where you would find her highness.

You stumbled across a circle of people watching a sword fight play out right in front of their very eyes, their weapons made out of nothing more than what you could presume was memory foam spray painted silver. However it was up against two individuals heavy in the fight, swinging their swords and trying to hit anywhere that would be a fatal wound. You watched as one of them with their helmet covering their face. How they could see out of the thing was a mystery to you. But it seemed they could see well enough. They managed to grab a hold of their opponent by the arm and twist it just at the right angle where they made him drop to his knees and pointed their sword at them. “Yield! I yield!” He shouted his mercy to the knight before he could find his finish his fictional fate with a bloody end. You narrowed your eyes slightly as the person took off their helmet, revealing their identity. A long flow of red hair that stood out anywhere in a crowd came cascading down, making you realize who it was. She wasn’t a knight, she was the queen. She was Charlie Bradbury. The knight, down on his knees, stared at the woman in front of him. “I love you.”

"I know. Take your leave to my medical tent and attend to your...severed limbs." The queen instructed to the knight, allowing him to go free as he got up to his feet and headed off while Charlie directed her focus to her loyal subjects. "Greyfox and Thargrim are missing. We pray to the goddess they have not fallen victim to fowl play. In their absence, the honor guard’s ranks are weakened. To join..." As Charlie conducted her duties and played out the role while taking small steps in a circle to scan the crowd, she found herself stumbling on a pair of two faces that made her feel like her heart drop into her stomach. “Oh, blerg. Uh...the queen needs some royal ‘we’ time. Talk amongst thyselves.”  

Charlie wasted no time booking out of there, leaving her people behind rather confused as to what had gotten in to her. You let out a sigh as you followed behind Sam when he saw the redhead scurry off into one of the tents just a few yards away. Dean was right behind you, but he only made it about a foot before he found himself intrigued by the foam sword. He picked it up from the ground and examined it for a moment, mumbling to himself about how good the balance felt. You stopped in your tracks and hissed the man’s name, getting him back into the reality of things. He quickly followed behind you with the sword in hand. You shoved back the gold silk curtains that lead to the queen's tents that served as her quarters. You took a second to examine the place with its color scheme of gold and reds. It was rather nice in here. Too bad Charlie wasn't going to be able to enjoy it anymore. You stumbled upon the sight of Sam trying to talk to the woman while she started to hastily pack up a bag. “Charlie Bradbury is dead. She died a year ago. You killed her. My name is Carrie Heinlein. Oh, and guess what. Now you killed her, too.” Charlie said. She began taking off her outfit and shoving the pieces into her bag. Dean tried to apologize to the woman, but all he could get out was two words before the redhead was turning around and pointing a finger at the man. “No, I buried myself. Then Dick Roman went down, his company belly-up, and I figure, ‘Hey, it’s all good.’ And I was fine. I got my life back. Now you’re here...with some complete stranger I’ve never met before.” Your lips drew into a smile when you saw Charlie’s eyes wander away from the two brothers when she realized that there was someone she hadn’t met before. You could tell the question of who you were was rolling around in the back of her mind. Before she could ask, you opened your mouth and decided to do it, hoping that it might help calm her down. But you were quickly cut off before you could even try to get out a single world. “You know what? Doesn’t matter. I’m not gonna be around long enough to remember your name. No offense. If you guys are here, monsters are here.” Charlie said. She turned back around and began to pack up the last of her things. “Why do I have such bad luck? What am I— some kind of monster magnet?” The redhead quickly turned back around to face the three of you, her question made a rush of paranoia rush over her. You opened your mouth once again to say something, but she spoke up first. “You know what? Don’t answer that. I don’t care. What I care about is not getting my other arm broken...or dying. So, I’m dropping my sword and walking off the stage, bitches. Have fun stormin the castle.” "Charlie. Carrie...Or whatever the hell your name is! Stop!" You shouted at the woman when she went storming past the three of you, passing along the crown to the older Winchester so he was now wearing it. Charlie only managed to draw back the silk curtain before you stopped her, the curiosity of your question was partly the reason why she stayed. "Don’t you think it’s kind of rude for a queen to rush off without asking a stranger’s name?”

"Fine. I'll bite." Charlie said, crossing her arms over her chest. "Who are you?"

"Charlie, I'd like you to meet Y/N Y/L/N." Dean formally introduced you to the redhead while he took the crown off his head and placed it onto yours. "Y/N, this is Charlie Bradbury."

“Wait. Like...the Y/N?” Charlie felt herself momentarily forgetting all about the reason why she was trying to run away at the sight of you. You gave her a warm smile as you tried to give her reassurance that everything was going to be fine. But her own smile began to fade as her mind remembered one small detail. She was now staring at you like you were some kind of ghost. “But, I thought you were supposed to be dead. And you look very undead. Not that I would know what a dead person would look like. Or want to, for that matter.”

"It's okay. I'm not dead. Never was. They thought so to up until a few months ago. But your friends on the other hand. Greyfox and Thargrim—Ed and Lance—they're not missing. They're dead." You told her the unfortunate news about her fellow knights. You watched as her face dropped into a panicked dread from the situation she was being dragged into once again. “Now, you want to stick around to hear the long version of what we have to say? ‘Cause far as I can tell you’ve got about two options. You can run like a coward. Or you can be a true queen and stick around to defend her kingdom before someone else gets killed.”

Charlie had a feeling she didn't have much choice in the matter of what to do. The four of you sat around the table and began to discuss what happened to her two fellow friends, all of the gruesome details made her appear queasy and unsettled. You offered a small smile as an attempt of some sort of apology. All of this was a lot to take in. But it was the things she needed to hear since it was going on in the very grounds she was speaking the weekend in.

“Drawn and quartered and bleeding out? Please stop talking again.” Charlie said, her reaction made you chuckle quietly at her nervous ticks from how she was handling all of this. "So what do you think did this?"

“Well, aside from the mark and them both being LARPers, there’s really not much else to go on.”  You said. You pushed over the crime scene photograph of the mark on Ed’s arm for Charlie to examine. “We were wondering if this might look familiar to you.”

"Wait, I've seen this before. It's a celtic magic symbol. At least it was in my favorite video game." Charlie said. "Does that help? Can I go now?"

“It’s a start, but no.” Sam said. He lifted up his arm up from the table, stopping the woman from trying to sneak out of here and running for the hills like she wanted. “Listen. What can you tell us about Ed and Lance?”

“Good guys. Two of the best members of the queen’s ever-shrinking army.” Charlie said. You repeated after the woman, wondering if her running streak of accidental coincidences wasn’t just that. "My kingdom had a lot of bad luck lately, probably 'cause of me, but maybe it's tied to this.  A month ago, one of my guys had both her ankles broken before battle. Before that, I had three people have hospital-worthy accidents while at home. You think there's any connection there?"

“They have any enemies in common?” You asked her.

“In real life? No. Everyone gets along famously. In the game, though, they had tons of enemies.” Charlie explained to all of you. She got up from her seat and headed over to another table with a map displaying the fictional world of Moondoor and the army that controlled certain areas. "Red reps are the followers of the moon—my peeps. Green for elves, blue's for Warrior's of Yesteryear, and black's for shadow orcs—total d-bags. This weekend is the battle of the kingdoms to see who wears the forever crown. This weekend, every fraction is definitely an enemy of me and mine.”

"You know, if you, uh..." Dean cleared his throat as he tried his hardest not to make it seem like he was losing focus on the case. He'd been examining the map and mentally figuring out how to help Charlie out with her shrinking army. He pointed a finger down at the red plastic figures that represented her people and gave a helpful tip. "...move your arches back and your broadswords men to the west..."

“Huh. Like the warriors. Hey, good call.” Charlie found herself losing focus for a moment about the entire situation herself when Dean engaged her into fixing her strategy. Both of them talked among themselves for a moment, having no clue Sam was growing annoyed while you looked on at the both of them becoming so engaged in all of this. “What about the southern wall?”  

"Guys." Sam finally spoke up, breaking his brother and Charlie's concentration away from the fictional world of Moondoor and back to the situation at hand. Both of them apologized as Charlie focused back again, however Dean found himself tempted to move the toy sized catapult forward. The redhead nodded her head in agreement when Sam went on talking. "So maybe someone from one of the other kingdoms got ahold of real magic and started using it to weaken your army."

“But why not just come after me?” Charlie asked. “And why the escalation?”

"All right, we will canvass the kingdoms. You should get out of here." Dean instructed to Charlie, coming up with a plan of action all on his own. "We don't want you to get hurt."

“Whoa, wait.” Sam said, stopping his brother from letting him do such a thing. It seemed he thought the idea of letting the redhead out of their sights wasn't such a good one.“Charlie knows Moondoor a lot better than we do. We need her."

“Sam, I think we can take care of a bunch of accountants with foam swords.”

“We need all the people we can get, Dean. People are dying.”

“My point, which is usually yours,” Dean continued on to argue with his brother by going with the plan that normally his little brother always liked to do. You let out a quiet sigh as you rolled your eyes in frustration from how they were acting. “Is that she should get somewhere safe and back too her normal life.”

"Okay! Okay. Before we waste more time over this petty argument, how about we handle things this way? You two work the case, I'll keep an eye on Charlie and work the odds and ends. Unless..." You proposed an idea that met everyone in the middle about a possible plan of action. You looked over at the woman to see what she had in mind, knowing this all depended on her decision. "Unless...you want to leave and get the hell out. The decision is completely and totally up to yours. Don't let this two idiots pressure you into doing anything you don't want to."

"I want to leave." Charlie said. You nodded your head at your decision while Sam seemed a bit annoyed at the sight of her leaving so soon. And while Dean was basking in the glory of winning the argument with his brother, it only lasted for a few seconds before the redhead continued on speaking to finish her thought. "But the queen...she has to stay. I mean, Sam is right. People are dying.They can't happen on my watch. And you know what? I am tired of running. I like my life here. I'm gonna stay and fight for it."

You raised your brow slightly from the way she was taking charge and putting herself in danger like this for the sake of making sure that people didn't end up like the rest of her friends. You gave her a smile when the both of you made eye contact from the bold move she made. However your concentration was broken away when you heard your phone go off. You shoved a hand inside your jacket pocket and pulled out your phone, excusing yourself for a moment so you could take this. The conversation was brief and exchanged few words with the sheriff when he called you up with an update on the case. You nodded your head as you thanked him for the information and hung up the phone, ending the conversation quickly as it started.

“So, the toxicology report came back on Lance. Nothing.” You informed the brothers and Charlie as you put your phone back into your pocket for safekeeping. “But the medical examiner said his body showed cleared signs that he was killed by belladonna.”

Dean and Charlie seemed to have been familiar with the name, but their mind went in a whole other direction when they spoke both in usion. “The porn star?”

Sam found himself staring at the two of them while you cleared your throat, wondering how this conversation turned in a strange direction that you honestly didn't expect coming. How they had came to that conclusion was all of their own doing. But, no, sadly to this dismay a porn star wasn't responsible for these supposed accidents and killings. “The poison.” You muttered the answer to Dean and Charlie, making them realize what you were really talking about. You rolled your eyes before continuing on speaking. “However, they couldn’t find a trace of it in his system.”

“Just like they couldn’t find ropes in Ed’s apartment.” Dean noted, finding a pattern here.

“Charlie, I’m gonna need to borrow your laptop.” Sam said.

“There are no laptops in Moondoor.” Charlie said. The boys gave her a look of disbelief from how this was going to make this a bit more complicated for all of you. "What? There are rules. But there is a tech tent four tents down."

"Okay. How about you guys go canvas," Sam suggested. "and I'll dig into these accidents and this mark?"

“Sounds good.” You said. As the younger man made his way towards the exit, you couldn't help yourself but bring up the no electronic role in a sort of joking manner. “Send a carrier pigeon if you need help.”

Sam thought your joke was the least bit funny as he flashed you a sarcastic sort of smile before disappearing out of sight. You looked over at the two remaining people, wondering how this was gonna go. "Okay. Besides the fact that I'm meeting the Y/N Y/L/N, which by the way, you're like a total legend. And I'm kinda freaking out being in the same room as you. I mean, I thought you were, you know...dead. But you're not. Which is awesome.”

“Yeah. I’m happy being back, too.” You agreed with the woman as you felt yourself growing a smile at the sight of her growing rather...well, giddy at the sight of you. "The boys told me you helped them take down Dick Roman? Now that’s a story I want to hear."

"Totally. It was hilarious. And super scary all at the same time. Obviously I’m gonna need the full wiki on where you have been hiding out for the past two and a half years. Dean practically chatted my ear off about you while I was breaking into Dick's office." Charlie said. You found yourself slowly looking over at the older Winchester, who was growing a bit embarrassed at the truth that the redhead slipped out from her mouth. Dean smiled slightly as he shrugged his shoulders, as if he was denying such a thing. You ignored him and directed your attention back to Charlie. "But first, you and Dean are gonna have to ditch the suit if you're gonna walk and talk with the queen."

You had only known Charlie for all of a few minutes, but there was something about her that you found oddly refreshing. From her personality to small quirks you picked up about her. She seemed like someone who was a lot of fun and yet at the same time was a bit like Dean in some ways. And it was refreshing to be spending some time with a person that wasn't a hunter or whose last name was Winchester. You followed behind Charlie as she directed you towards her duffel bag that she threw back to the bed so she could find some clothes for you to change into. Dean followed behind as he felt himself growing a smirk at the idea of taking part of this. You sat down on the bed and watched as Charlie got to work while Dean waited around.

"You can change over there." Charlie said, handing over a stack of clothing along with a few other necessities to help you blend in as she pointed over to a room divider that fit the decor of the room. As you headed off, Dean looked towards the redhead with a raised brow, trying his hardest to hide his excitement as he waited for her to help him out.  "There's a tent three down from mine. One of my peeps can hook you up. Tell them the queen sent you."

"Oh. Uh..." Dean found himself suddenly starting to panic slightly at the thought of you and Charlie being together for the next few minutes. "I'll just come back here after I’m done?"

"Yeah. That's kinda how it works." You said, "Unless you need help finding your way around."

"Nah. Nah...I'm good." Dean mumbled. "I'll be back You girls don't have too much fun."

Dean started to make his way to exit the tent, and not even with his back turned and one foot out the door, he heard you strike up a conversation with Charlie. A few seconds later he heard a chorus of laughter. He began to grow nervous at the things you were about to tell him. And the things Charlie might slip out. When two women got talking, there was no way of knowing what they were going to discuss. But he found the sounds of your laughter comforting at the same time. He didn't know the last time you made that sound, and seeing Charlie made him realize that not too long ago he didn't think he was ever going to be able to hear it ever again.

[Next Part]

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[spn-ficfanatic]

Timezone reblog (with a side of "why is this particular fic not really doing very well? Oh well... I like it even if y'all don't 😂")

Rewrite the Stars- Part 2

MASTERLIST - PRELUDE - PART 1 - PART 3

Summary: You (a demon) and Cas (an angel) share a forbidden love, much to Dean’s disgust. The ultimate sacrifice finally proves your loyalty to the angel in the Winchester’s eyes but by then it’s too late. When the opportunity arises for Sam to save you from a lifetime of torment he takes it, but how will Dean and Cas react to your return from hell?

A/N: Guys, even if you’re not into Castiel or Cas x Reader fics I think this is a chapter worth reading, especially if you’re a Dean girl/guy ;)

Series Characters: Reader x Castiel, Sam, Dean, Bobby, Crowley Characters this chapter: Reader, Sam, Bobby, Dean, Crowley (Where the hell is Cas??!) Words: 2858 Genre: Angst Warnings: Show-level violence

A flash of light stirred you into consciousness, though you didn’t open your eyes. Your head was lolling about while the rest of your body was gripped tightly against a warm, hard, possibly chiselled chest. What? You were still a woman!

Boots came toward you and you felt yourself being lowered gently to the ground. You were unsure if this was friend or foe so decided to play dead a little longer, but when a third man spoke you couldn’t help your eyes shoot open in surprise.

Why the heck did you picture a squirrel just now?

Keep reading

[huntertales]

Part Two: Let’s Get a Few Things Straight. (We Need to Talk About Kevin S08E01)

Episode Summary: Two years have passed since the unexpected death of the reader. Sam and Dean Winchester have continued without their hunting partner, believing that she is gone forever. However an accidental run in on a college campus makes the boys wonder if someone they had lost has come back from the dead, the reader. Dean quickly realizes it’s her. But there’s one problem, she has no idea who she really is. Will the boys be able to get her memories back and figure out what happened? Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Temp. OFC x Reader) Word Count: 6,059.

Previous Part | Supernatural Rewrite Masterlist

Back in the day when you were still alive, Dean had this routine he used to do. This was when you were living at home with your days filled with endless research and the idea of hunting and saving the world as a passing thought of “What If?” before it disappeared for another day. Sam was at school and Dean was hunting with his dad, sometimes taking the odd job by himself if a case consumed John to the point where he wanted to work alone. Dean would always check up on you every few months to see how you were doing and if things were all right, but it wasn’t always announced.

He had this little habit of just following you around town, watching as you go on your daily routine and completing a list of errands. Get some groceries, stop at the post office, pick up a few new books of lore you found at the bookstore you didn’t have to learn about a new creature you thought you were never going to hunt. Every so often Dean would take you by surprise, pretending to come up for a visit when you were home from your running around town.

The smile on your face when you saw him always made him laugh, it was almost like a private joke with himself. More like the satisfaction of seeing how happy you got when you saw him. You had grown to enjoy living on your own. You kept yourself busy enough to pass the time, with mundane tasks one has to do as an adult, along with other things like reading about all sorts of different topics and watching a copious amount of TV to pass the time. And the research asked from the Winchesters was enough to fill your time in between when you were out of tasks for yourself. You might say you enjoyed living on your own, but it got lonely sometimes.

You admitted one night over dinner, tipsy from the wine you had been drinking as Dean nursed a beer, that you liked it when he was here. The house felt a little bit less scary. You still suffered from nightmares about the day you saw your mother’s dead corpse possessed by Azazel for the longest time. At times you wished that things were different and the brothers would be able to put their differences asides to be a family once in a while. You respected Sam’s urge to go to college and John’s unhealthy obsession with abandoning everyone to hunt down a monster.

You adapted to the Winchester’s ways of showing love and affection—Distance and communication every once in a while to make sure one another wasn’t dead.

You tried for so long to bite your tongue, that was, until you started hunting with the brothers and saw John and what kind of “bullcrap” he’d been putting you and the boys through. (Your words spoken in a fit of rage.) That's when the real Y/N started to come through. You were more tough, you spoke what was on your mind and you stood your ground on what you did and didn’t like. You were stubborn at times, but you meant well. You wanted nothing more than to hunt and do things that benefited the world from outside of your house. The more you spent on the road with the boys, the closer all of you became. You were the glue that kept the boys together. Dean desperately wanted you back more than ever to help fix things back together.

Despite the reunion with his brother that went more in a bitter direction than Dean pictured, the boys put asides their personal differences to work on the strange situation in front of them. Sam worked on finding any sort of paper trail made this Y/F/N Thompson a real person and any kind useful information they should know. Dean bruised himself most of the afternoon following this Y/F/N around from college to sitting in the college parking lot until about four when she emerged with an armful of papers tucked in one hand and the handle of a messenger bag draped over her shoulder. She seemed innocent enough as she waved at her fellow coworkers and smiled at what Dean presumed might have been a few of her students.

Y/F/N patted around her pockets for her cell phone she accidentally dropped after bumping into Dean, not realizing it was sitting in the man’s palm. He watched as she struggled for a minute or so until she gave up and got into her car, driving off to the first location. First stop was to pick up a dress in town and a few groceries, along with some other places. Seeing all of this made Dean feel for a moment like he was back into his old routine with you. But it was when Y/F/N went home when reality came crashing in like a freight train, making him realize the woman he had been following around for the past hour and a half wasn’t you. She was a complete stranger.  

Dean pulled into a rather modern suburban looking neighborhood, where every house looked the same and all the lawns were prestigious and green. It was the complete opposite of where you used to live. Ella, your mother, bought a house that was big and a little bit rundown, with a homeowner who wanted it off their hands. He remembered the times he used to be over when he was much younger, his father helping fix up things even if Ella protested such help. She wanted the place perfect for you. You thought it was home, the boys thought of it as their own as well when they were younger. It had been Sam’s first taste of normalcy. Ever since you had died they hadn’t even stepped foot back into that house, afraid of the memories it would bring back.

Dean called up Josh Carver on a whim to see if he could help figure out the situation that was going on. Josh thought along with everyone else that you were dead. However when Dean told him he saw someone exactly like you walking around and didn’t recognize him or Sam, Josh didn’t sound all that surprised. He gave the older Winchester a bit of information that helped shine some light on what might be really going on here. The night you were turned human you and Josh went to a local bar to let off some steam from the falling out you had with Cas. You admitted over a few drinks that you “wanted to be someone else for a change.”

“What I would do just to start over. Just for a little while. No knowledge of angels or demons...I want parents, I want to know what it feels like to be married. Hell, I want a mortgage.”

Dean had spent two grueling long years trying to come to terms with the fact that you were dead for good, but he could never lose hope, always trying to find some sort of way to bring you back. And then there was the constant guilt for thinking that all of this was his fault, if he had done something different maybe things would have changed the outcome. But he had a feeling it wouldn’t. There was only so much he could do. Dean hoped that this woman he had been watching all afternoon was the real Y/N. He wondered what he would have to do in order to get you to remember him.

What if that wasn’t a possibility? What if Cas had wiped your memory completely like he did to Lisa and Ben? Talk about opening up an old wound from the thought. Dean chose to make the Braden family forget about himself and the supernatural for their own protection. Now he wondered out of fear the angel, who wasn’t in his right mind at the time, had taken the liberty to do the same with you as well? Maybe the body that the boys and Bobby watched burned was the one your demon side had been using. And the real you was still out there, thinking she was someone else. And there was no way to change what Cas did.

It was sort of frustrating not having his two best friends here to help him with the situation. Dean felt another wave of guilt when he remembered Cas was still in Purgatory, and here he was getting angry about the fact that he wanted to see the angel and ask him a question about what he did two years to you. It was the Winchesters’ problem and they were going to have to deal with it, along with Kevin, who remained in the back of Dean’s mind. What the older Winchester was focused on right now was Y/F/N and figuring out who she was.

Dean focused his attention back to the woman and watched as she pulled into a fancy looking house and stepped out of the car. She was about ready to unload the thing she picked up and head inside, only he noticed someone come up from behind her, taking Y/F/N by surprise when the stranger wrapped his arms around her waist. Dean leaned forward in his seat slightly in caution, only it turned out to be some sort of “cute” thing couples do when he saw her quickly turn around to see a man that made her break out into a grin. You used to smile at Dean like that. And now you were doing it to someone else. Dean swallowed slightly, trying his hardest to stop himself from doing something he would ultimately regret.

The older Winchester watched as you wrapped your arms around a man he’d seen before in your social media pictures and others you had saved on your phone. Facebook said that you were married to this douche looking guy, Dean remembered his name was James. It hurt as he watched you lean forward and give a kiss to the man that wasn’t him. He wondered if this was how you felt around Lisa when you came back from the dead. This constant urge screaming in your head to jump up to your feet and tell Dean that Lisa was all wrong for him, it was you that knew him better than he knew himself. You were the only one for him. But you couldn’t. So you had to fight back your feelings. He didn’t know how you did it for that year.

Dean’s attention to the couple he was stalking was turned away for a moment when he heard his own phone going off. He answered the phone when he saw it was his brother, but his attention never left Y/F/N or that guy, his lips turning into a frown when he saw his grubby hands touching her body. She smiled when he said something and headed into the house with the belongings and disappeared from Dean's sight.

“So I did some digging and found some interesting stuff. Turns out there is in fact a real Y/F/N Thompson. Found her birth certificate, social security and driver’s license.” Sam said. “She’s been married to a James Thompson for the past six years. Only child of Louise and John Daily. Straight A student from middle school until high school, played soccer for most of her life and went to college at University of Michigan. She’s also a professor at the same college Channing goes to, which explains why we bumped into her there.”

Dean felt his stomach sink when he realized that you might be living a very real life and didn't have a clue about who you were anymore. "Great. You think Cas did a little too good of a job on erasing Y/N's brain and changed her completely?”

“You didn't let me finish. Here comes the weird part.” Sam said. His brother could almost picture the smile on his face from what his hacking abilities could dig up. “Y/F/N Thompson was in a car accident three months before Y/N died. She was hit on by a drunk driver. Unfortunately she wasn’t wearing her seatbelt, ending up going straight through the windshield and slipped into a coma. Doctors doubted she was ever going to wake up. But, low and behold, three months later, she wakes up with no memory of the accident or injuries. Louise, her mother, claimed ‘it was a miracle from God.’”

“Let me guess, family is a church going and God fearing family.” Dean muttered. Sam scoffed, giving his brother his answer. He looked over to the window when he saw a figure pass the window before vanishing from his sight again. “When did this Y/F/N wake up?”

“3:15 A.M.”

“Wait, isn’t that when—“

“Y/N was pronounced dead? Yeah. And here comes the

weird part. All of Y/F/N’s social media was created after she woke up from the coma. The only pictures I can find on the internet look like Y/N. But I hacked into the DMV and police database to see crime scene photos of the real Y/F/N. I’ll send you a few.”

Dean took his phone away from his ear and pulled up the photos his brother had send them to give them a quick look over. He saw a woman with a barely recognizable face lying on a hospital gurney with nurses and doctors surrounding her. But he could tell straight away this wasn’t you. It was the complete opposite of you in fact—from the skin color, hair, body shape. He felt a little bit more relieved as he continued the conversation with the younger Winchester.

"Okay, so let's say Y/N's really been alive this whole time pretending to be this Y/F/N. It's an interesting theory, but we've got no way of knowing if she remembers herself." Dean said. He felt a little bit of relief when he realized that you were really alive and well after all of this time. Life always had a funny way of working. But an obstacle was in the boys' way. "I mean, we can't just knock on her front door and ask if she remembers us."

"Yeah. But I found something that might work that could get us closer to her. I’m thinking if we do this, maybe we’ll jog her memory.” Sam said. “It’s a long shot, I know, but we don’t have a lot of options left here.”  

+ + +

The next morning you were up earlier than you anticipated, and alone again. You stopped being surprised at the odd hours your husband worked from his new promotion he got a few months ago. Bad guys don’t put themselves away, and they sure don’t stop when you were trying to at least have one decent date night. You had enough things to do today from stopping back at your office to meet a student to discuss their failing grade and finish up the lecture you had planned for Tuesday’s class. And you couldn’t forget your lunch date with Melody, along with swinging by your parents house quickly to discuss your father’s surprise sixth birthday party. On top of it you still needed to find your freaking phone.

You got to work on getting ready for the day and heading to your office before ten so you had enough time to swing by your local coffee shop to get a drink to wake you up. Your student was probably going to be late as per usual. They missed three of your classes already this month and they barely handed one assignment in that didn't seem like a twelve year old wrote it. You got to your office a little after you planned and settled yourself down, not the least bit surprised to see you were alone.

You went to your desk and spent the first twenty minutes answering emails from coworkers and a few of your students. You reached for your coffee as you read through an email from a student of yours, not noticing there were two strangers lingering in the doorway. It took a soft knock on the door for you to break your concentration away from your laptop screen to see a set of two men dressed in suits, their focus on you. You gave them a small smile as you pushed yourself up to your feet, wondering if they might be lost.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?” You asked them.

“Are you Y/F/N Thompson?” The shorter one of the two men spoke up first, bringing your gaze over to him. You nodded your head to answer his question. You watched as they pulled out what appeared to be badges from the inside pocket of their suit jackets, making you realize they were from the FBI. "I'm Agent Dean Rorak. And this is my partner, Agent Sam Freedman. We’re investigating the disappearance of Edna White. Do you mind if we ask you a few questions?”

“Of course. Have a seat, agents. I was supposed to be meeting a student of mine, but I doubt he's going to be showing up." You gave the both of them a smile as you peered out the door slightly to see there was nobody there. You ushered the men to sit as you took your seat back to your desk, shutting your laptop and moved around some papers so it appeared that you had things somewhat together. “This is a little weird, I have to admit. I'm a little bit surprised the FBI is interested in something like this. My husband—he’s a detective—said she would come back eventually.”

"Well, we take the matters of missing people very important." Agent Rorak said. You gave him a smile as you looked in his direction when he spoke, relief crossing your expression. His partner seemed the remark was a bit out of line, he cleared his throat and gave the man a bit of a dirty look, which went unnoticed by the both of you.

"So, you're Edna White's next door neighbor, is that correct?" Agent Freedman spoke up, bringing your attention over to him. You nodded your head to answer the man’s question. “And you were the one who filed her missing?”

“She's only been gone for a few days, but I don't know where she would have left without telling anyone. Her husband died a few months after my husband and I moved into the neighborhood. She has no kids. She's seventy years old with a heart condition." You said, your voice dropping into a serious tone to show your concern. "I’m just worried about her.”

“Did she seem out of character leading up to her disappearance?" Agent Freedman asked. You gave him a bit of a confused look, wondering what he meant by that. "Was she acting more hostile or violent? Like she wanted to hurt someone?"

"No. Nothing like that. But...she was acting a bit paranoid the very last time I saw her. She was acting like someone was following her.” You said, trying to remember the best of your ability. "My husband and I are quite fond of her, she’s practically family. We went to check up on her to see if she was okay, but when we did…she freaked out when she saw my husband. And on top of it she wouldn’t believe how long it had been since we saw her last.”

“Wait,” Agent Rorak stopped you, finding a piece of your story a bit interesting. “What do you mean about her being afraid of your husband?”

“Edna’s getting older. She forgets things, and I can’t tell you how many times she locked herself out of her house. Sometimes she even thinks James is her dead husband. But it wasn’t like that.” You explained the situation a bit better for them to understand. You were about to continue on to the part of the story about what happened that got you nervous, but when you thought back to the memory, your lips stretched into a faint smile from how ridiculous it sounded. “You’re gonna laugh at what I’m going to say. It’s sort of...weird.”

“Trust us,” Agent Rorak reassured you with a slight smile as he leaned forward in his seat. “We know weird.”

“Well, uh...she claimed my husband was taken over by a ‘cloud of black smoke.’ She said she saw it the day she went missing—the day she thought it still was when we checked up on her. She was shaking.” You told them the story, waiting for one of them to crack up laughing like how James and his coworkers did. However the agents sat there with a serious expression, they seemed even a little bit disturbed by what you saw. “She kept saying that he needed to get away from her, that I needed to run. He was a ‘monster with horrendous black eyes.’ Weird, right?”

“Had Edna expressed these kind of claims before she disappeared?” Agent Freedman asked you. You thought about it for a second before shaking your head. “Has she complained about the smell of rotten eggs? Flickering lights?” “She didn’t complain, but her placed did reek of it when I went to go check up on her the day I filed the report. I thought maybe it was a gas leak and she...you know, didn’t make it out. But she wasn’t there. And all of her appliances were working just fine.” You answered the man’s questions honestly, however you felt a little silly, unsure of how this could help. “And as for as the lights go, it’s been happening for the past week or so. The entire neighborhood has been going weird. We think it’s an electric problem. They’re building a new development not far from where we live.” You noticed that the two agents seemed a little uneasy from the information that you gave them, leading you to believe they must have thought you were crazy as Edna. Agent Freedman gave you a smile as he pushed himself up to his feet, you and his partner followed. “All right. I believe that should be all. You’ve been a big help, Y/F/N. I believe that should be all.” Agent Rorak pulled out something from his pocket, you noticed it was a business card with his number printed on the front. He handed it over, “If you happen to see or hear anything—even remember anything, don’t hesitate to contact us.”

“Of course.” You agreed, examining the card for a moment before looking back up at him to give the man a reassuring smile. “Have a good day, agents. And thanks again for this. It really means a lot you’re taking this seriously.” The two men returned the gesture before they showed themselves out to the hallway so you could get back to work. Dean was just outside when he saw someone come straight out from the corner of his eye, heading straight for your office. He stepped back in time when he noticed the student you were supposed to have met fifteen minutes ago came sprinting into the room, apologizing left and right about being late. You let out a sigh and showed your discontent with his tardiness. Never less, you gestured a hand for him to sit down where Dean was just a moment ago, the both of you getting back to your business of why you were here this morning.   “Sounds like demon possession to me.” Sam said, making sure to keep his voice no higher than a whisper as he discussed the matters with his brother. “You think Crowley found out Y/N’s alive somehow? Decided to have one of his goons jump the husband just to make sure?” “Old lady sees him get possessed, freaks out and doesn’t show her face for a while. Y/N, being the good samaritan she is, checks up on her to see if she’s all right. But when she opens her mouth, demon gets afraid Y/N might start remembering so he kills Edna to keep her quiet.” Dean tried guessing what was going on here from the story you told him and the younger Winchester. He peered inside the office to see you were deep in conversation with your student, having no clue what was going on. “I’ll tell you one thing, I’m not letting her out of my sight.”

+ + +

It was the late afternoon when you finally got home from your somewhat successful meeting with your student and lunch with your friend that turned into a shopping trip to spend money of things you really didn't need. You made your way into the house and dropped the bags by the front door, deciding you would take care of them in a little while. You headed into the kitchen to grab yourself something to drink. As you made your way into the next room, you smiled when you saw a familiar face sitting at the island, drinking what smelled to be coffee.

“Hi, honey.” You greeted the man you thought you knew so well and loved, the smile across your lips grew wider as you reminisced about the night you spent with him what was hours ago. You leaned down to give him a quick peck on the lips before you went to the countertop where you smelled the freshly brewed coffee calling your name. “How was your day?” “It was just terrific.” James said. You looked over your shoulder as you gave him another smile from his answer. The man brought the coffee cup to his lips to take another drink as he watched you turn your back to him, missing the smug smirk that began to spread across his lips. You asked him what put him in such a good mood. "It's work related. You see, my boss has been bugging everyone nonstop about this...well, let’s call her a criminal who has friends in a lot of high places who tried to hide her. Real nasty bitch. And I finally found you.” You found yourself stopping midway through pouring yourself a cup of coffee when you heard a series of words coming out of your husband’s mouth that sounded awfully unlike him. You slowly looked over your shoulder to see your husband was standing on his feet now with that smug smirk on his lips that seemed permanently frozen on his face. When you looked into his eyes, you felt the grip around the coffee pot slowly slip out, the glass crashed to the countertop, breaking into tiny pieces when you saw those...eyes. The ones Edna had warned you about.

In the house next to yours, the Winchesters made true to their promise of not straying too far from where you went, however they decided to check out Edna White's house while they were, curious to see if what Dean suspected what was going on was true. The boys wandered through the home, searching for some sort of clue that you might have missed while you searched. While the house didn't show any signs of a break in or a struggle, not even a drop of blood, it didn't mean that one took place. Demons might be bastards, but they knew how to be tricky.

Dean searched in a few closets and peered down to the basement to see if he might be able to find anything. He headed into the kitchen and poked his nose around while his brother took the living room. When the older Winchester noticed a shut door he hadn't seen before, he cautiously stepped forward to open up the door, and when he did, the very thing that he had been looking for appeared, dropping at his feet. Dean let out a quiet sigh when he saw the face of one Edna White, throat slashed from ear to ear, a fine yellow powder scattered across the pantry floor.

"Sam," Dean called out his brother's name. "I found her.”

The younger Winchester stepped back into the kitchen to see the sight that he had been silently dreading to see, an old woman who had been viciously killed, probably for a while from the awful decomposing smell coming off from her body. Seeing her dead body meant one thing, what she had tried to warn you about might have been true. Sam took his gaze away from the dead body for a moment when he heard something echo in the air, it sounded like a scream. He furrowed his brow as he looked out the kitchen window. Sam noticed right away he had a perfect view of the house next door, which was yours. “James, don’t scare me like that!” You screamed on the top of your lungs, your petrified expression changed quickly into anger when you felt your skin starting to burn from the coffee you accidentally spilled on yourself at what you saw. The liquid wasn’t scolding hot, but it was still hot enough to make your skin burn, quickly making you rush to turn on the faucet sink. “God, I think I burnt myself. You’re just an ass, sometimes. You know that?” You were about to put your burnt hand underneath the cold water, but before you could, you felt someone roughly grab a hold of the tender skin, squeezing it while they turned you around. James yanked you so you were looking at him, you noticed right away that his eyes were back to normal. "Do you know how long we all thought you were dead, Y/N?” “James, let go of me.” You ordered at your husband, unsure of what was going on with him. It was like a switch in him changed. You’ve never seen him like this before. Sometimes he pulled pranks to scare you for fun, but nothing like this. All you knew was that your hand was throbbing now in pain from how hard he was holding you. You tried to get yourself free, but he only squeezed the flesh harder. “You’re hurting me.” "This hurts?" James asked you in a mockingly sympathetic tone. He roughly squeezed the burned flesh, making you let out a noise that made his smile grow wider. “Oh, baby. This is foreplay compared to what Crowley has got in store for you after what you did, Y/N.”

“Who the hell is Y/N?” You questioned the man in a shaky voice. “James, seriously. “What has gotten into you?”

"Wow. Castiel really did a good job of scrambling up your brain, didn't he? You don't recognize my kind, baby?" James wasn't making any sense here. You furrowed your brow in confusion as the throbbing pain in your wrist started to slowly weaken. When you saw your husband blink, you found yourself letting out a terrified gasp, somehow his eyes transformed into the same pair of inky black eyes that made a shiver run down your spine. "I’ll take that as a yes.”

“Hey, you ugly ass son of a bitch.” A male voice came from behind you, taking the both of you by surprise. Suddenly you felt the grip around your arm disappear, only to be replaced when James grabbed a knife from the sink, the sharpest one you owned, and pressed the blade against the hollow point of your throat.  You felt James’ arm wrap around your body, pinning your arms to your side so you wouldn’t fight back. You were too afraid to breathe from how close the knife was. Your eyes wandered over to a familiar face you saw just earlier this morning standing in your kitchen, a loaded gun pointing at your husband. It was Agent Rorak. At least, that’s who you thought it was.

“Dean Winchester. Well, what a surprise!” James greeted the hunter with a smile as he blinked, showing off the set of malevolent eyes the man knew that belonged to only a demon. “How the hell are you, man?” “Pissed off.” Dean replied. “If you know what’s good for you, I’d suggest you let her go.” The demon pretended to think about the request for a moment before he responded, “Nah. Crowley has been looking for her for a while. If I let you and Y/N run off into the sunset, my ass is on the line. And you don’t want to be on his bad side.” "Do I look like I give a rat’s ass what your piss poor king wants? I just spent a year slaughtering my way through monsters. Do you really want to me on my bad side? I'll say it again." Dean narrowed his eyes on the demon as he repeated his order one more time for him to understand. “Let her go, you son of a bitch.”

“You know, you got yourself a fine girl, Dean. Too bad she doesn’t remember you. Hell, she doesn’t remember anything. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?” The man you thought to be your husband suddenly felt like a stranger. You winched when you felt him lean his head down so his lips were hovering over your ear, making you want to do just about anything to get away from him. Dean could feel his grip around the gun tighten in anger. “Took us a while to find her. But I must say, the hunt was worth the wait. I could have dragged her to Crowley the moment I jumped this meat suit, but then I thought, 'Nah. Let's stick around. See how good she's in the sack.’“ “Wow.” Dean pretended not to be fazed by what the demon said. “Do you kiss your mother with that filthy mouth of yours?” “No. But I’d gladly kiss your mother’s with it.” The demon replied back with a smik. “Speak of family, where’s that brother of yours? I know if there’s one Winchester, there’s always another.”

The demon should have been careful about what he asked for. You felt the blade press closer against your neck from what unfolded next, but it barely grazed the skin before it disappeared, along with James’ hold around your body. You stumbled forwards when you suddenly heard the sound of something heavy hit the ground. Looking down to your feet, you noticed it was your husband, standing over his body was the agent you had seen earlier as well. You noticed that he was holding a knife, too. But it looked like any other one that you had ever seen before.

You felt frozen in your spot for a moment as your brain tried to comprehend what the hell just happened. Your wrist was throbbing in pain from the burn that was neglected as you realized your husband flipped a switch. He kept calling you, Y/N...he tried to kill you. You inhaled a deep breath as you slowly lifted your good hand to your throat where James had pressed a knife against. One second his eyes were black, and then they were normal. And then there was talk of demons. You furrowed you brow as you continued to stare at the dead body bleeding out on your kitchen floor. But you slowly looked away when you heard someone speak up.

"It's gonna be okay." You looked up to see that it was Dean who was speaking words of comfort as he lowered his gun. But you couldn't hear what he was saying. The only thing you could hear was your heartbeat pounding loudly in your ears. "We're not here to hurt you..."

You weren't sure who the two men were standing in your kitchen, you didn't know what the hell was going on anymore. All you knew that you suddenly felt yourself growing lightheaded. You moved one foot forward to try and take a seat somewhere before you could pass out. The logical side of you was trying to tell you to run, but another part of you felt safe. You only managed to move a single step before you felt your knees give out. You felt your vision grow black before you fell into the arms of Dean, not realizing what other mess you were about to wake up to.

[Next Part]

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[fictionalabyss]

3am.

Pairing : Dean x Reader

Word Count : 190

Warning : Horror, Angst, AU (Dean was never a hunter)

A/N : This was going to be a random thing I wrote and slapped on my blog, just to challenge myself and get better. It was too SPN like for me to not make a drabble for the blog.

Prompt : @writing-prompt-s It’s 3am. Your partner gets out of bed to use the restroom, after they return to bed and you are drifting back to sleep, you are surprised by a knock at the bedroom door. It’s your partner … asking why the door is locked.

Part 1 in the series ‘3am’.

Groaning in your sleep as you feel the bed shift, you crack and eye open and look at the time. You hear his light foot steps leave the room and the bathroom light flicks on and floods the hallway with light. Squeezing your eyes shut, you bury your face into the pillow, and pull the blanket up higher.

You’re almost back asleep when you hear the bedroom door click shut, and his soft footsteps coming back to bed. You feel it shift with his weight  and smile as his arm goes around you. Snuggling back into the warmth of him, you fall back asleep.

“Baby?”

“Hmm?”

“Baby!?” You hear a knock on the door. Confused you crack open your eyes. “Baby, why is the bedroom door locked.. What’s going on?”

“Wha-” Your eyes go wide as you hear your husband outside the bedroom door. Panic sets in, you’re too afraid to turn. “Dean?”

“Baby!?” His banging on the door louder now.

“DEAN!” Your shrill voice echos as you get dragged under the blankets and into darkness. You can faintly hear the door break down as Dean calls out for you.

[princessmisery666]

Gone

Dean x Reader

Word Count: 495

Warnings: Non-explicit sexy stuff. Dean’s self-loathing. 

A/N: For @impala-dreamer‘s End of the Year Quickie Challenge! You don’t wanna know how many words I had to cut from the first draft. Inspired by the prompt, “whiskey’s gone.” 

Dean rolls the glass between his palms, staring at the last twinkling drops of gold. He’s smiling, remembering the night they met. He can’t help but smile, still. 

Most of that night is in soft focus, hazy in his memory, but a few things stand out, sharp and clear. 

She didn’t smile easy, back then; it took him a while to coax it out, but fuck, that grin. It was lethal, pure honed steel, and it cut him open. 

Keep reading

[spn-ficfanatic]

Final Timezone Reblog. And then I'll have something new this weekend I think, a little one-shot inspired by a Buffy episode!

The One Moment- BONUS CHAPTER: "Y/N! You’re Needed On Set!!”

SERIES MASTERLIST - PART 1 - PART 2 - PART 3 - PART 4 - PART 5 - PART 6 - PART 7 - PART 8 - BONUS: IN SICKNESS & IN HEALTH

Bonus chapter to my fic “The One Moment”, but can be read separately. Set anytime really!

Genre: Fluff

Words: 921

Warnings: None

Y/H/C= Your Hair Colour

“Y/N! You’re needed on set!”

“What’s wrong? Did someone break something? Is someone hurt?” you asked panicked, standing up from your desk as Eric ran through your office door. He looked completely stressed and you couldn’t even begin to think what horrible scenario awaited you on set.

“What? No! Our waitress for the diner scene is in the bathroom throwing her guts up and we need to get this shot done. We just need you to be her for, like, a few minutes. An hour tops. Maybe two. Definitely no more than 4.”

Your eyes widened at the thought. You’d never been in front of the cameras before and never had any intention of doing so. Standing in front of a crowd singing was one thing, but having your image forever scarred onto film that would forever be repeating on daytime television was another.

“Say wah? I don’t think so Eric, maybe Nikki will do it,” you replied, shaking your head and stepping away from him with your hands up.

“No, we need a Y/H/C for this. Please Y/N, I’ll make it worth your while. Somehow. Don’t ask me how yet, please just do this for me?”

You stood for a moment, contemplating his offer which really wasn’t an offer at all and more of a pathetic beg. I could lord this over him forever, you thought to yourself with a wry smile, before stepping toward him.

“OK I gue—“

“Great, let’s go,” he replied, not even letting you finish and grabbing your hand before sprinting out the door with you in toe.

45 minutes later, you stood on the café set in your waitress outfit. Jensen and Jared came toward you and you held out a finger sternly to Jensen.

“Don’t say a work Ackles,” you warned him, already anticipating every crude joke you could think of.

“I wouldn’t dream of it… provided you can serve me up some pie,” he said with a wink, and you proceeded to hit him on the arm with your tray.

“Places everyone, quiet on set,” Eric called, settled and ready to shoot the scene. Your heart was jumping out of your chest, and Jared gave you a warm smile to try and calm your nerves.

Here we go, you thought to yourself.

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