#dean's not quite out of skepticism

[sayoneee]

☆ PARENT TRAP

in which, a plan is devised to set the two of you up (1.9k)

contains: luke castellan x fem! reader. mortal au. baby percabeth (they are 12). percys pov. loser older brother luke castellan 🔛🔝

kashaf’s note: i think we can tell i love my music references by now. (answering requests soon!)

i. remember the time - michael jackson

PERCY HAS ALWAYS liked afternoons: sitting on the green couch in his apartment, the smell of his favorite blue cookies wafting through the air, and the constantly running episodes of gilmore girls on the tv — that you had convinced him to give a try — and sometimes the addition of grover, who was prone to start passionate tirades on climate change.

though after summer camp, his relatively quiet afternoons now included at least two mentions of “seaweed brain” and two of “wise girl”. 

percy’s trying to stay focused on rory freaking out over thanking dean for something (annabeth is almost laser-focused), but the doorbell rang a while ago, and you still haven’t returned. 

“annabeth,” he whispered, to no avail — he guessed dean really had that effect on people. he tried again, waving a hand in front of her face. she blinked twice before being lifted from the spell of gilmore girls. 

“what?” annabeth asked.

“who’s at the door?” 

annabeth’s eyebrows rose. she turned around, looking past where you were still holding the door open, one hand animatedly gesticulating, the other still on the doorknob. 

“that’s my brother,” annabeth said, turning back to look at percy. 

but percy isn’t paying attention to her right now, instead, he’s focusing on the bits of conversation audible between you and this stranger, who’s smiling very peculiarly down at you.

“— no way, me too,” the stranger is saying, grinning.

you’re saying, “deadass? prove it —” 

“— are you always so skeptical —” 

percy gets up off the couch, annabeth beside him, striding over to you and the stranger, who, for a reason he can’t quite put a finger on, seems weird. 

“hi,” percy says, looking at you, pointedly ignoring the stranger. you and the stranger seem to freeze, your hand halting mid-tuck of your hair behind your ear, something percy has only seen you do around one of your ex-boyfriends. 

“hi,” annabeth says, looking at the stranger, who smiles in response. again, weird.

“ready to go?” the stranger asks, “or are you going to take over their spare bedroom?”

“luke, you’re not funny,” annabeth grumbles, but she doesn’t look that put out by luke’s teasing percy notes. 

you’re smiling, but you’re not looking at annabeth. you’re looking at luke, your one hand still on the doorknob. interesting. 

“you’ve got your yankees cap?” you confirm as annabeth laces up her converse, as you and luke are engaged in a tiny conversation of your own. percy wordlessly hands the worn-out cap to annabeth once she’s finished, saying his goodbye.

once annabeth and her brother are long gone and you’re no longer leaning against the door, you’re still smiling widely, and percy wonders why.

ii. shoop - salt n pepa  

gilmore girls is on again, and luke is here to pick up annabeth. again. but for whatever reason, annabeth still hasn’t left, and you and luke are sitting in the kitchen, alone, conversing loudly. 

annabeth isn’t as hyper-focused on dean and rory’s argument as percy had thought she would be a week ago — he assumed that dean’s appeal died the minute he got mad in that banged-up car. annabeth is saying something about architecture, eyes shining, though he’s not sure which one she’s talking about, hagia sophia or st. basil’s cathedral. your loud laugh seems to ring from the kitchen every minute or so, and well since you’ve begun babysitting him, he can’t say the sound is unfamiliar, but the frequency is suspicious. he doesn’t trust luke. 

“annabeth,” he says, when she’s stopped talking.

“percy,” she responds in the same tone, her smile bright.

“how long has your brother been in the kitchen for?” he says, trying to sound nonchalant, but missing the mark horrifically.

annabeth looks at the watch on her wrist, “woah —”

“what does woah mean?” percy knows he’s being impolite, and his mom taught him to never interrupt people, but he can’t help it at this moment. 

“i was just getting to that, seaweed brain,” annabeth rolled her eyes good-naturedly, “we were supposed to leave an hour and half ago.”

this was bizarre. “no offense, but what does my babysitter and your brother even have in common to be talking nonstop for an hour and half?”

“no idea,” annabeth says, thoughtfully. “is she in a band? luke’s in a band.”

“no,” percy says, but he thinks he remembers your last boyfriend being in a band. “is your brother a senior?”

“yeah — does she do boxing? luke does.”

“i actually don’t know,” percy pauses, “i think we should see for ourselves,” he stands up. 

“wait,” annabeth says, “they might go quiet if they see we’re around. let’s just turn off the tv and eavesdrop.”

percy grins, annabeth was such a genius, “you got it, wise girl.” 

they’re both so silent, he wonders if you’ll notice, but with the way you’re laughing again, borderline giggling, actually — which is odd — as you say, “shut up, you know what i meant,” he doesn’t think you’ll realize. 

“erm, actually i don’t,” luke says, nasally (in what percy hopes is mockery). 

percy looks at annabeth, who rolls her eyes at him and mouths, ‘he’s being ironic’. percy stares at the patterns in the carpet, and annabeth stares at the picture of percy and his mom hung on the wall, as they continue to strain their ears — which isn’t hard because of how noisy you and luke are together.

“you’re so insufferable.”

“and you’re the one who invited me in, so.”

“i was being nice,” you sound like you’re protesting, but percy and annabeth note the amusement in your voice with another shared glance.

“you? nice? let’s be forreal.”

“i’m literally not even mean.”

“you literally are.”

annabeth peeks at him, and percy thinks he’s had enough of listening to this conversation, which is quickly becoming weird. and mushy. he can practically see how you’re looking at luke, and how he’s looking at you, which is not at all something he wants to imagine.

he nods at annabeth, and they both try to make their footsteps as loud as possible when they start approaching the kitchen, just in case. 

he’s grateful to every higher being out there when he and annabeth find you and luke in the kitchen simply sitting next to each other, no funny business involved. 

iii. doo wop (that thing) - ms. lauryn hill

you’re on the phone, giggling. annabeth is over again, and there’s no luke in sight, but percy suspects he’s on the other end of the line. 

percy sighs and turns to annabeth, who always seems to know what to do because this little situation has gotten unbelievably out of hand. 

“is that your brother on the phone?”

annabeth’s concentration on the teetering jenga tower on the coffee table lingers, doo wop (that thing) playing on the tv in the background, “yeah, i think so.”

“how do you know?” percy asks, watching annabeth carefully choose a jenga block to remove.

“they like each other,” annabeth says, looking at him, as if it’s as obvious as grass being green.

“no, they don’t,” percy pauses for a minute when annabeth raises her eyebrows at him. “how do you know?” 

“luke’s always calling her at home,” annabeth said, “and he made her a mixtape.”

“that doesn’t mean they like each other, that just means he likes her,” percy points out, crossing his arms. 

they hear you giggle in the kitchen again. annabeth looks at him as if that proves her point.

annabeth blinks, her face lighting up, “oh my god, percy, we should set them up.” 

percy stares at her. he can’t deny that for as long as he’s known annabeth, she’s seldom been wrong, but he doesn’t think this is the best idea. but, percy trusts annabeth, so he agrees.

iv. this is how we do it - montell jordan

percy’s spying on you. well, he doesn’t consider it to be spying exactly, he’s just making sure nothing happens to you because despite annabeth’s constant defense of her brother, percy still doesn’t trust luke. percy’s always thought of you more than just his babysitter, after all the attempts at making blue hot chocolate and the comforting after nightmares, you’ve turned into his sister. 

he’s at annabeth’s place now, and both of them decided to put their — what annabeth swears is fool-proof — plan into action. step number one: getting luke to invite you inside when you come to pick him up (which was so unbelievably easy, considering how luke has perpetual heart eyes when you’re around).

currently, you’re in the kitchen with luke (the two of you are always congregating in kitchens for some reason), and annabeth decided that she and percy absolutely had to keep an eye on the two of you.

you’re gasping, “luke castellan, you are such a liar.”

luke is laughing, “no i’m not.” his cheeks are red.

you’ve seemed to notice this, and percy can see your gaze soften as you look at luke, but that doesn’t stop you from making your point, “no, oh my god, you call me the mean one but here you are, talking shit about your rivals, just because they’re better?”

percy has seen you argue with your ex-boyfriends, but not like this — not bright-eyed, and smiling, and none of them have been able to just flow the way you seem to with luke. this is it, he thinks, annabeth was completely and utterly right (as she is 90% of the time). 

“you take that back right now, those motley crue knockoffs aren’t better than us,” luke says, sounding kind of angry, but percy can see his smile.

“you’re totally bugging,” you say, “what’s wrong with motley crue?”

luke looks scandalized, and almost as if he’s pleading, he says, “please tell me you’ve at least listened to guns n roses,” pushing his hands together in a namaste position.

“i don’t live under a rock, castellan,” you rolled your eyes at him, pushing his hands down. annabeth shares a look with percy.

“i mean, you never know,” he says, and you scoff, shoving him.

percy raises his eyebrows at annabeth, and she seems to know exactly what he’s thinking — time to put step two into action: set up a going-out idea.

percy and annabeth pretend to walk closer to the kitchen, to give the two of you time to spring apart, because you and luke weren’t a very pg distance right now — maybe pg-thirteen, but percy wasn’t supposed to be watching those, so.

annabeth jerks a finger at percy, as you and luke looked up at their arrival, addressing luke, “percy doesn’t believe that your band actually plays in public.”

percy’s head whips toward annabeth, trying not to glare at her, because the look on luke’s face right now was not at all amusing, but at least you were smiling, so you’d definitely stop luke from killing him.

“yeah, luke,” you say, smirking, “where do you guys even play?”

luke frowns, “the usual but we’re playing at the fair next week if you’re so interested.” the last part is aimed at percy, but their plan is going well so far, so percy doesn’t think he’ll have to sleep with one eye open tonight.

“when?” you ask, interested.

percy watches luke turn to you, surprised. “saturday — why, you wanna come?”

“yeah,” you admit easily.

percy looks at annabeth, who’s smiling and percy can’t help but feel proud of their idea.

“really? we don’t go on until like seven though.”

“yeah, someone has to be there to cheer for you so you don’t feel too bad when no one else does,” you grin.

luke turns to you, masking his smile with a fake air of irritation, “gee, thanks.”

“what are friends for?”

percy shares a disappointed glance with annabeth who begins to shake her head, as luke’s smile freezes in place, and you suddenly look extremely remorseful.

time to come up with a new plan. 

© sayoneee on tumblr. do not repost, plagiarize, translate or claim any of my works as your own.

[zepskies]

Something Real

Pairing: Firefighter!Dean W. x F. Reader

Summary: Now that you and Dean are officially engaged, you take some much needed time off together for a family vacation. But even with the wedding set for next year, the two of you are still at odds when it comes to one key part of your future together…

AN: And we’re back in the world of Smoke Eater! I’ve been trying to figure out a way to come back to these two for a while now, and this idea finally struck me. I hope you enjoy!

Word Count: 6.3K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Major fluff, angst, PTSD/mentions of sexual harassment (references to Smoke Eater Part 13), family feels, hurt/comfort, and smut.

Catch up on the SE-verse: ⤵️

🔥 Smoke Eater Masterlist

“Dean, are you okay?” you asked.

The man was white knuckling both armrests in his seat, taking pains to breathe in and out steadily. He nodded the slightest bit, humming to himself all the while. You bit your lip to hide your smile. 

The plane had just taken off about ten minutes ago.

“Are you singing yourself a lullaby?” you asked.

“Metallica. Calms me down,” he replied. 

This, from the man who storms burning buildings.

You couldn’t quite stifle your laugh, though you rubbed his arm. Somehow you managed to slip your hand into his, peeling it off the armrest. 

“We’re almost up to altitude. You’re going to be just fine,” you told him.

It didn’t matter. The plane hit a bump of turbulence, which had him squeezing the shit out of your hand. You tried to brave through it for his sake, but eventually, you had to tap out. 

“Babe, you’re gonna break my hand,” you hissed. With your free appendage, you squeezed his wrist to get his attention. Dean finally realized what he was doing to you, and he let you go. 

“Sorry,” he said, his face contrite.

Your lips twitched. You leaned down to grab your purse and dig inside for your sunglasses. You handed them to him.

Dean glanced down at the brown Dolce & Gabbana shades with skepticism. 

“I don’t need your girly sunglasses, thanks,” he said.

“Trust me,” you said. “It’ll help block out some light, so you can close your eyes and try to take a nap.”

“The only way I’m sleeping on this tin can is if you knock me the hell out,” Dean said, matter-of-fact. “Ask Sam if he’s got any Ambien.”

You glanced across the aisle and shared a wry look with Sam and Eileen. Sam shook his head, despite the knowing smile on his face. You turned back to Dean.

“No, not Ambien. Andréa sleepwalks when she takes that shit,” you said. You guided his head toward you so that he rested on your shoulder. You stroked his cheek. “Just relax.”

Dean let out a long, unsteady breath, but he tried to follow your lead. He took your hand again, not in a crushing way this time. He turned it over and admired the shining ring on your finger. The diamond on it was modest, but charming and unique in its setting. 

“Hmm, who got you that rock?” he asked. His tone was teasing, making you smile. 

“The smokin’ hot guy I’m living with,” you replied. “He finally decided to make a move.” 

Dean hummed again, raising his brows.

“Good-looking, smart, and decisive. This guy sounds awesome,” he said.

You pressed a kiss to the side of his head.

“Mhmm, a sexy firefighter. And he’s a Captain now, so I guess that’ll make me his trophy wife,” you teased back. Dean’s shoulders shook with the effort of keeping his laughter quiet. Your smile deepened.

“But he saves lives too…including mine,” you added. “So I guess I can’t complain.”

Dean raised off your shoulder then, just to look at you with a softer smile of his own. 

“Well, a pretty girl like you? He’d probably say he got really, really lucky.”

His lips closed in on yours, and you allowed him to draw you into a languid kiss while he laced his fingers with yours. His thumb brushed the engagement ring he gave you, just two weeks ago. His mother’s ring.

It’s the best gift you’ve ever been given. 

Oh, hell yes, you thought, when you opened the door to the hotel room. It was beautiful. Stunning really, with a king-sized bed and a view of an enormous pool. 

Dean was busy hefting his suitcase and one of your carry-on bags. He whistled in amazement when he saw the room. 

“Damn, Sam sure knows how to find a quality Groupon.”

But he struggled to get in the door with all the luggage he was carrying. You held the door open for him. 

“Careful with that one,” you said, pointing to your bag that kept knocking between his hip and the door as he shoved through. 

“Why’s this thing so heavy? Did you bring Kansas with you? Goddamn,” he grumbled. He was all too happy to dump your bag on the bed. 

You rolled your eyes with a smile. You parked your own suitcase on the side by the window. You already knew Dean was going to claim the side closest to the door. 

“That bag is just makeup, skincare, and hair products,” you informed him, hefting your bigger suitcase onto the bed. “This is for clothes and shoes.”

Dean shook his head in bemusement. “You’re friggin’ crazy, woman.”

“I need options!” you said defensively. “I didn’t know for sure what I was going to want to wear on this trip. I haven’t been on vacation since I was a kid.”

“Oh yeah? Where’d you go?” he asked while unzipping his own suitcase.

“Disneyland with my grandparents, which was awesome. But I was like, eight at the time,” you said. 

They were fond memories, even though no one was left to remember them but you. Still, you tried not to let that bittersweetness dim your good mood.

It was still hard to talk about your grandparents at times, especially because the loss of your grandfather was still so fresh. You didn’t feel like you had enough time to properly mourn him, thanks to everything else that was going on then. (Namely Nick and Daniel Savage, and everything in between.) 

Getting over that time was getting easier though, as the months wore on. Sometimes it was hard to believe you’d been with Dean for almost a year. And yet, it felt like so much longer. Like you’d lived half a life with him already. 

You went over to look out the window and held your hands on your hips. It was nighttime, but the streets of Miami, Florida were well-lit beyond the pool, and there was something beautiful about a bustling city at night. 

“Now this is an adult vacation,” you said.

At that, Dean smiled and walked around the bed to you. He slipped his arms around your waist and held you from behind. You held him right back.

“Damn right it is,” he said. “What do you wanna do first? Dinner, and then check out some nightlife, or skip right to dessert?”

You smiled at the way his voice lowered with thinly veiled suggestiveness. 

“Well, I know how much you love dessert,” you said slyly.

Dean’s smile deepened into a smirk.

“Yeah, that may be,” he said. “But don’t pretend you don’t love some hot lemon drizzle.”

You spluttered a laugh, beginning to blush at his hefty double meaning. He cradled your cheek and bowed his head, so he could catch your lips in a deep kiss. You made a sound of surprise, but you soon melted against him.

Already this was worth the several-hour plane ride of Dean bouncing his leg and steeling your iPad so he could distract himself. After the year you both had, all you wanted to do was spend the next few days with no responsibilities, no drama or worries—just your fiancé and your soon-to-be brother and sister-in-law…

Your newfound family. 

The night was spent at a nice Cuban restaurant in Miami Beach. Afterwards, you, Dean, Sam, and Eileen explored the boardwalk, and later the downtown Bayside area where a number of shops and kiosks were bustling with life. This was technically Sam and Eileen’s bachelor and bachelorette trip, so you all weren’t wasting any time to explore and see the city.

By the end of the night, you only had enough energy to shower and hit the bed face-first. Dean was actually on board with that, as he was the first one to start snoring on his side of the bed.

The next day though, you felt rested and ready to chill by the pool. Miami Beach itself was a bit too crowded for your tastes, and the others agreed that hanging out at the hotel for a while would be more relaxing after all the travel the day before. 

However, when you looked at yourself in one of the two-piece swimsuits you bought specifically for this trip, you couldn’t help but feel…self-conscious. The bikini and bottoms weren’t scandalous, really. You’d seen a lot of thongs, beads, and G-strings already on this trip.

It was just…you were a bit wary of showing this much skin in public. 

You didn’t want to think about the reasons behind your unease, however, so you tried to push it out of your mind for now. You put on a long sundress over your swimsuit and finished up your makeup.

A few minutes later, a knock sounded at the bathroom door.

“You done in there, your majesty? I’m getting hungry,” Dean said through the door. 

“One more minute. Doing my lipstick,” you replied. “You know we can order lunch by the pool, right?”

“Yeah, if we ever get there,” he said. You were amused when he opened the door. He was already dressed in a loose shirt and board shorts. His eyes swept over your white sundress and red lipstick, and he smiled. 

“Lookin’ good, baby,” he said. Though he raised his brows and met your gaze in the mirror. “So can we go?”

You had to laugh.

“I guess we better, before your stomach eats itself,” you quipped.

You lightly smacked the back of your hand against said stomach before you slid past him out the door.

You and Dean ventured downstairs and out back to the pool, where Sam and Eileen had already saved a few deck chairs. While Sam and Dean went to order some food and cocktails, you started pulling out the sunscreen and towels from your beach bag. 

“Eileen, you need some sunscreen?” you asked. Your friend was already taking off her shirt and little shorts, revealing a cute violet bikini and bottoms underneath. Her brown hair was loose around her shoulders. She shook her head at your question with a smile. 

“No, I’m good. Wanna go in?” she asked, and signed, before she pointed over to the pool. 

There were already a couple of families in there with their kids splashing around by the shallow end. That didn’t bother you. It was more the men of various ages milling about, either in the pool, flirting with girls, or by the tiki bar, drinking and likely waiting for opportunities.

You tugged the V-shaped collar of your sundress closer together.

“Not just yet. I think I’ll have something to eat first, try to tan a bit,” you said. 

Eileen gave an “OK” sign and headed for the pool. 

You shucked your sandals and moved your chair under a large umbrella, but you still had to fan yourself. It was hot as hell, and your dress had long, billowy sleeves.  

Sam and Dean eventually returned with some drinks. 

“Food’s gonna take a bit, so we probably have time for a dip,” Dean said, handing you a piña colada. He noticed you wiping sweat from your brow. 

“Come on, you can cool off in the water,” he said. 

You waved him off. “It’s okay. I’m good here for a while. Think I’ll work on my tan.”

Dean rose a brow and gestured at you with a hand. 

“You’re gonna do that in the shade, dressed to the ankles?” he asked.

He made a good point, to which you didn’t have a good answer. You sipped at your sweet drink and hummed at the rummy, coconutty taste.

Dean could see there was something off with you, though.

“You okay?” he asked. 

You nodded. “Yeah, I’m good. I guess I just don’t feel like swimming, that’s all.”

Dean quirked a brow. You bought three different swimsuits for this trip, but you didn’t want to swim? He pulled his deck chair closer and sat on the edge of it beside you. 

One thing he’d come to know about you. When something was bothering you, you didn’t always want to tell him right away. Often when it was something you felt embarrassed about. 

He nudged your thigh playfully. “Tell me you’re not gonna make me third wheel the married couple.” 

You smiled. “They’re not married yet.”

Three months wasn’t a long time though. You were going to be the Maid of Honor, with Dean, of course, as the Best Man. 

“Semantics,” Dean shrugged. He slipped a hand over your knee and squeezed. “Come on. Talk to me.”

After a moment in which you held his gaze, you sighed. You beckoned him closer. Dean leaned over so you could brace a hand on his shoulder and speak close to his ear. 

“It’s kind of embarrassing. I just, um…after everything that happened last year, especially before Christmas, I just don’t feel comfortable showing so much skin,” you said. “I don’t want to…attract attention.”

Surprise hit Dean first. He pulled away and frowned at you. But then, his face soon dimmed with grim understanding. 

Christmas. In other words, a Christmas party at your old job that had taken a turn for the worst.

Dean knew you had to be talking about Nick Savage. 

That bastard was dead and gone, and still, the way he’d sexually harassed you for months was still affecting you, months later. Dean let out a heavy breath through his nose. He reached up to cup your cheek. Your eyes lowered.

“I’m sorry,” you said. “I knew what I was signing up for when we started planning a beach vacation. I guess it just didn’t really hit me until now.”

“Hey, it’s okay,” he said. “But you know I’m gonna be with you. Nothing’s going to happen.”

You nodded; you knew he would protect you in any circumstance, but it didn’t stop men from looking when they had the chance. You just didn’t feel totally comfortable with that kind of attention. 

Sensing he hadn’t convinced you, Dean tried to think of a solution.

Then, he had it. He held a finger up in the air. “Ah, here.”

He pulled off his shirt by the back of his neck. You watched him in curiosity.

“This’ll cover you up. You can go ahead and jump in the pool with this,” he said, handing you the shirt. 

Your brows knit together. “But you won’t be able to wear this later. It’ll be all wet.”

“That’s okay,” Dean said. “It’s hot as hell out here. And we’ll just be going back up to the hotel room anyway.” 

You bit your lip. He made a good point. You were probably going to look weird jumping in the pool with a whole long-ass shirt on, but at least you’d be covered. His shirts tended to reach down to your thighs, where a pair of shorts might cut off. 

You smiled and leaned in for a kiss. You stroked his scruffy cheek.

“Thanks,” you whispered. 

He nodded with a smile. “Just call me the Problem Solver. No, the Solution.”

You smirked and twined your arms around his neck. 

“I prefer Captain,” you said.

Dean’s smile deepened. “You really like that, huh?”

“I really do,” you replied cheekily.

After one more sweet kiss, you asked him to stand in front of you while you took off your long sundress and changed into his shirt over your swimsuit. Afterward, he pulled you in by your waist and spoke close to your ear. 

“I like seeing you in my shirt anyway,” he said. You smiled and playfully shoved his arm. 

You accepted his lingering hand on your lower back and followed him to the pool. You felt a bit awkward wearing a shirt that billowed in the water when you stepped in, but you decided to ignore the feeling and just try to enjoy being on vacation with your family. 

Sam and Eileen welcomed you and Dean over. Eileen did question your state of dress with her eyes, but when you leaned over and explained in her ear, her eyes widened, and she understood. She gave you a look of sympathy and rubbed your arm. 

You sighed, but again, you tried to let it go. 

You two chatted for a while after claiming a corner of the pool, also watching Sam and Dean swim competitive laps back and forth. 

You were engrossed in your conversation with Eileen about her new group of students, when Dean came up from under the water to splash you both. You shrieked with a laugh as you fended off the onslaught, but he hauled you into his arms. 

Sam wisely pulled a laughing Eileen out of the orbit. Together they split off for some canoodling, and once he was done playfully trying to dunk you, you were happy to wrap your arms around Dean’s shoulders and float with him in the water.

Dean made way for a couple of kids as they splashed by. A younger girl and an older boy chased each other while swimming with little floaties on their arms. Their parents were keeping a watchful eye on them nearby. Dean smiled and laid a kiss just under your ear.

“That could be us pretty soon,” he said.

“Yeah? How soon are you thinking?” you said in bemusement.

“Hmm. How about next year?” he said, more serious than you expected him to be. You raised your brows at him. 

“Dean, we’re not even getting married until next year,” you pointed out. He shrugged and held you a bit tighter. You felt his fingers drifting up and down your bare thigh.

“So we’ll get a head start on the family thing,” he said, grinning. 

You couldn’t help but dim at that. You didn’t want to disappoint him, but you also felt you had to inject some reality here. You turned in his arms so that you could face him.

“Babe, I just started my catering business. If I get pregnant, at some point I’ll have to take time off, put everything on pause,” you reasoned. “And…I’m not making the same money I was before.”

At that, Dean began to frown. “I make decent money.”

You nodded, smoothing a hand down his arm.

���Yes, you do,” you agreed. 

Aside from his usual hours at the firehouse, Dean had earned his mechanic’s certification a few months ago. So he’d started a side job at Bobby’s salvage yard. He was slowly but surely turning it into a more profitable mechanic’s shop, with Bobby’s blessing. 

“But, I think having a baby is going to be a little more expensive than you realize,” you said. “I just want to be more stable with my business before we start a family.”

Dean was quiet for a beat.

“How long then?” he asked.

“I was thinking more like…a few years or so,” you said. Dean’s face fell further, though he tried not to show the true depths of his disappointment. 

“Okay, well uh…” He wiped a hand over his mouth and chin. It was an anxious tick of his, you knew. “I guess we’ll talk about it later.”

The conversation settled with putting an implied “pin in it,” but an invisible thread of strain formed between you and Dean for the rest of the afternoon.

Hours later, you and Eileen broke off together to go shopping. You both were trying on clothes at a nearby mall, since she was toying with the idea of wearing something new for dinner tonight. She stepped out of the fitting room to show you a white form-fitting dress that slipped over her curves nicely.

“Oooh, that’s beautiful,” you said, with a little clap of your hands. “And oh! Thinking ahead, you could wear that for the wedding reception too, if you don’t want to deal with the whole wedding dress after the ceremony.”

You knew that her dress had a lot of tulle under the skirt, which might make it difficult to dance in. Eileen gave that idea some consideration, though something occurred to her with a certain smile. 

“Well, this dress might not fit so well by then,” she said.

Your brows knitted together. “What? What do you mean?”

Eileen paused for a moment, but she seemed to come to a decision in her mind. She smiled and beckoned you over. You went to her, and she led you to a nearby chaise in the dressing room.

That was where she whispered the news that she was six weeks pregnant.

Your resulting squeal of excitement startled all the other women in the dressing room, including the store’s attendant. You covered your mouth with an embarrassed wave, but you turned back to Eileen and took her hands in yours.

“We were gonna tell you and Dean tonight at dinner,” Eileen said with a laugh. “We found out right before the trip.”

Huh. Now that you thought about it, you didn’t remember her drinking even one cocktail on this trip so far.

“Oh my God, I’m just…” you trailed, as emotion surged in your heart and made your eyes all misty. “I’m so happy for you.”

Eileen laughed and pulled you into a hug.

She explained to you that when she first told Sam on a Tuesday morning before work, he’d fallen into a haze of shock, to a point where it had kind of worried her. But then she showed you a picture on her phone of the first thing Sam bought when he got home that day: the tiniest pair of blue booties.

You laughed again, and cried again. So tiny…

“Of course he assumes it’s a boy, but we’ll see,” Eileen said, with a roll of her eyes. Her soft smile was telling though.

“How do you feel?” you asked, wiping under your eyes.

She paused at the question. She tilted her head, and she raised her gaze to meet yours. 

“I’m happy,” she said. “Really happy.”

It was your turn to give her a big hug. And your tears fell anew as you came to another realization.

As usual, Dean was ready for dinner before you. He sat on the edge of the bed while putting on his watch. It was his father’s watch, which John gifted to him for his birthday. Though it had actually belonged to John’s father, Henry. 

Dean blew out a breath. Despite his attempts to try and just have a good time tonight (Sam’s advice), he couldn’t forget his conversation with you earlier today in the pool. He didn’t want to move too fast for you, but at the same time, he couldn’t deny that he was still fighting his disappointment, and maybe some melancholy.

Just lock it up, asshole, he told himself.

When you were done putting on the finishing touches on your makeup in the bathroom, you came out and stepped into his line of vision.

“What do you think?” you asked. 

Dean’s head lifted, and his eyes widened. You were a sexy sight in black. The dress stopped at mid-thigh, paired with some of the tallest heels he’s seen you wear since his very first date with you. 

“Damn,” he said lowly.

You smiled and stepped forward, not stopping until you were standing between his long legs. You took his face in your hands and gave a slow, lingering kiss to his lips. Dean breathed into it, and even needed a bit of a moment to recover when you pulled away.

“Hey, about what we talked about today—” you started. He cleared his throat, raising a hand. 

“It’s okay. You’re probably right about all that. The timing’s not right,” he said.

You brushed your thumbs against his cheeks. “But that’s just it…maybe we don’t have to wait so long to start a family.”

Dean perked up, giving you a questioning look. You set your hands on his shoulders. He grasped your hips, almost on reflex.

“Maybe when we get home, we crunch some numbers and figure out how we can do this,” you said.

He shook his head with a frown. “I don’t want you to lose steam on your business. You’ve waited a long time to make that happen.”

You sighed. He was sweet for that, but you’d thought about that too.

“Like I said, we can figure out how to make it work. No matter what job I have, having kids was always our plan.” A smile raised the corners of your lips. “And you know, we have so many people in our lives that’ll want to help us, even if it means we have to work a bit harder.” 

Dean’s eyes started to brighten, but he didn’t want to hope too hard. 

“Sweetheart, you don’t have to tell me what I want to hear,” he said. 

“I’m serious, Dean. I wouldn’t play about this,” you said, squeezing his shoulders. “This is worth it, and I want this with you.”

He started to soften then, and even smile. He got to his feet and wrapped you up in his arms. He held you close, pressing another kiss to the side of your head. 

“What changed your mind?” he asked. You bit your lip on a smile.

“Well, if I tell you, you have to promise to act surprised when you hear it later.”

Dean’s brows shot up. “Okay. Color me intrigued.”

You leaned up to his ear and said, “Eileen’s already pregnant.”

And your man full-on malfunctioned. He held you tighter, more to brace himself. 

“Holy shit! For real?” he asked. You laughed and nodded.

“Looks like they got a head start on the wedding,” you said. 

“I’ll fucking say,” Dean replied, but his grin was so wide, it made you smile harder.

“They didn’t plan for it, but they’re going to make it work,” you said. “It made me realize…we can do the same thing. Just with a bit more planning.”

Dean laughed at that. He knew your anal brain all too well, but in this, he could understand. His hands moved down your lower back.

“Well, you know how we can get ahead of the game?” he said. You knew what he was suggesting with only his eyes, and his meaningful touch.

You would’ve loved to take him up on that, but you glanced pointedly at the digital clock on the nightstand.

“Sam and Eileen are probably waiting for us downstairs,” you said.

Dean sighed, rather dramatically in your opinion. He still bent down to kiss your neck, nipping a bit hard just under your ear. It made you jolt with a surprised yelp.

“We’re not done here,” he said. The depths of his voice made you shiver, but you smiled. 

“I’m counting on it.”

You all got back from dinner late, after much celebrating for Sam and Elieen’s news. Dean even bought a bottle of champagne, which poor Eileen couldn’t partake in. (He ordered her a large piece of chocolate cake  to make up for it.)

You and Dean returned to the hotel room, but tonight, thoughts of sleep were still far from your mind. You sat on the edge of the bed and slipped off your heels, followed by taking off your earrings. You also watched Dean remove his watch and undo the first few buttons of his dress shirt in the bathroom mirror. 

He spied you watching him, and his lips quirked up at the corners.

“What’cha lookin’ at?” he asked in amusement. 

Instead of answering him, you stood up and made your way over to him. You hugged him from behind. 

“I really needed this,” you confessed. “Getting away from home for a while…I’m reminded that everything I need is right here.”

Dean turned in your arms and pulled you in close. He gave you a slow kiss that simmered with heat.

“Yeah, me too,” he agreed. He caught sight of your bikini and his swim trunks dry on a bathroom rail, and a smile grew on his face.

“Hey,” he said. “I’ve got an idea.”

“We’re so not allowed to do this,” you giggled quietly. 

The pool and the surrounding cabanas were empty. Not only was it very late, but the pool was supposed to be closed. However, it did allow you to feel comfortable in taking off your sundress, remaining just in the vibrant green bikini you were wearing earlier today. Dean took you by the hand, and the two of you tried to keep quiet while stepping into the pool.

“Oh, God, it’s freezing,” you whisper-laughed. Dean’s jaw locked, but he was also smiling, trying not to shiver.

“Aw, shit!” he said, when the water got past his waist, hitting his more sensitive areas. “Why’s it so damn cold?”

You moved closer to him and slipped your arms around his middle, trying to steal his body heat. He welcomed you with an arm wrapping around your waist.

“I guess they count on the sun to warm it up,” you replied. “We are in the Sunshine State after all.”

“Know it all,” Dean playfully groused. “I’m freezing my tits off.”

You saw the goosebumps that had broken out across his arms, and yours too. You smirked and teased one of his hardened nips with your fingers.

“Yeah, you are,” you agreed. He laughed and looked down at your bikini top, raising his brows at the stiff peaks.

“So are you,” he said. If you two stayed in here much longer, his nads were going to pay the price. “Maybe this wasn’t one of my best ideas.”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head and hugging him tighter. “Definitely one of your best. But maybe let’s hop in that jacuzzi over there.”

Dean twisted his head in the direction you were pointing, and sure enough, there was a nice hot tub a few yards from the pool. You both left the pool and braced the cool air on your skin long enough to run to the jacuzzi, quietly laughing all the while. 

Dean turned the dial on the heat and cranked up the bubbling, and soon you two were able to relax together in the much warmer water. He held you to his chest, his fingers dragging up and down your arm, while you just took in some deep, relaxing breaths. You let go of every bit of stress that might’ve still been clinging to your psyche. 

A few minutes in, you turned your head to press a sweet kiss under his jaw. His wet scruff prickled against your lips, but you didn’t mind. 

“Ever think about letting this enter beard territory?” you asked. 

“Eh,” Dean shrugged, still rubbing some warmth back into your arm. “Not really my look.”

“It could be,” you said. A smile curved your lips. You turned in his arms to straddle his lap, where you got the leverage to cup his face. You gently scratched your nails along his stubbly cheeks. 

He raised a brow. “You want me to go full lumberjack, don’t you?”

“Maybe not full lumberjack,” you teased. “I’d settle for quarter-lumberjack.”

Dean chuckled loud enough that you had to shush him, with your mouth covering his. His heavy hands spanned your lower back as you treated him with progressively dirtier kisses. His hands lowered to grip your ass, encouraging you to grind down on him. You were more than willing to oblige him. 

Even with the light of the moon, a large palm tree covered the jacuzzi in some shade. It made the empty courtyard feel a little more secluded. You felt just secure enough with him here to reach down below the water. You slipped your hand under the waistband of his shorts, where you began to stroke his hardening length to full mast. 

He groaned into your mouth and squeezed your hips on reflex. 

“Better be careful, baby. You’re playing with fire right now,” he said gruffly. He had no compunctions about finishing what you’d started, right here and now. 

You smirked, but you did pull your hand out of his shorts and took his hand instead. 

“Come on,” you whispered.

When you and Dean made it back to the hotel room, it was a quick stop to the bathroom.

He guided you back against the tile wall in the shower and stole your breath with a hard kiss. His hand flew to the shower knob and turned on the water. 

Luckily this shower had a ledge for shampoo bottles and soap. You knocked all of that shit over when you hiked your foot up on it. You raked your nails through his hair and left his lips, just to suck harder on his neck.   

In turn, Dean untied your bikini with a practiced hand and let it drop with a wet thwap on the floor. He kneaded your breasts and rolled his thumbs over hardened nipples. He actually rubbed some warmth back into your skin as his hands migrated down your body. And he helped you shimmy out of the bikini bottoms, just as you helped him with the shorts. 

He took a healthy grip of your bare ass and again ground you against him, making you smile against his neck. But his fingers slipping between your legs disrupted your train of thought entirely. You felt his fingertips at your entrance, probing your depths, just testing the waters first. You gave a needy hum and clung to his arms.

He chuckled near your ear. “Already soaked, huh?”

“You didn’t exactly play fair,” you said, panting for breath. He hadn’t stopped touching you all the way from the jacuzzi to the elevator. You hadn’t even completely dried yourselves, leaving a trail of water from the scene of the crime, all the way up to the third floor where your room was. 

Dean earned a wanton moan from you when his fingers roughly massaged your clit. Your head pressed back against the tile wall, your hands clasping on his shoulders tight as a shudder of pleasure rippled through your body. He stroked you right to the edge of pleasure, until he could start to feel you tighten on him. Then he withdrew his hand. 

You whined at the empty feeling, giving him a look of annoyance. “Dean?”

“Patience,” he smirked. He used your wetness on his fingers to stroke himself back to painfully hard.

You scoffed at his words. This man didn’t often have a patient bone in his body. 

But once he was ready for you, he took advantage of the way you’d hiked up your leg, and he held you open while he positioned himself at your entrance. He took your hand and moved it down to replace his fingers on your clit. 

“Keep touchin’ yourself,” he ordered. His voice became laced with both grit and desire. You followed his directions and kept circling your fingers around that sensitive bundle of nerves, even though it forced a keening moan from your throat when he pressed his cock inside you. 

“Fuck, don’t stop,” he muttered. Your inner walls were squeezing on him tightly, like you were already halfway there. Dean aimed to catch up with you as he grabbed your hips and set an almost punishing pace. He wrapped your thigh around his hip so he could get an even deeper angle to his thrusts. He grabbed onto the shower head when he felt his foot slipping a bit in the tub.

You hung onto him by the back of his neck as the coil in your lower belly became dangerously tight. “Oh, fuck. Dean…”

He knew you were close. He could feel it. He replaced your fingers with his own over your clit, searching for the spot he knew always made you come undone. 

And he knew when he found it—you cried out at the warm pulsing in your core as it quivered around him. 

“Let go, baby,” he said roughly in your ear. He gave you a few more hard thrusts, both to draw out your orgasm and to finally reach his own. His balls clenched and a ragged groan escaped him, along with his release coating your walls. 

By now, the hot water from the shower head had turned lukewarm, but neither of you really cared, blinking drops of the spray out of your eyes as you each caught your breath. Dean brushed your wet hair away from your neck. You smiled, and you guided him by his cheek, back to your lips for a softer kiss. 

“‘S a damn shame you’re still on the pill,” he remarked. 

You blinked in response. When his words finally registered, you burst out laughing. You pressed your forehead against his. Jesus, did this man have baby fever. 

“Let’s just get married first. Then we’ll work on it, I promise,” you told him. “Besides, we don’t want to steal your brother’s thunder.”

Dean grimaced and made a sound of disgust.

“For fuck’s sake, you mind not mentioning my brother at a time like this?” he said.

To be fair, he was still deep inside you. He slipped himself out and let the shower head begin to wash away the remnants. 

“Sorry, sorry,” you laughed and drew him back in for another kiss. 

Despite himself, Dean couldn’t help but smile against your lips. His left hand twined with yours, where your ring glistened under the florescent light. 

A year ago, he never thought he would be here. A year ago, he didn’t plan any further than tonight, and how he was going to get back to his life tomorrow. 

A year ago, while he did have his brother…Dean still felt alone. 

Now, he had something real. He was on the cusp of sharing the rest of his life with someone who understood him, supported him, loved him, despite the demands of his job. 

Now, he had an actual future to build with you.

And he was more than ready to get started. 

AN: I so hope you guys enjoyed this addition to the SE-verse. Let me know what you think! 😘❤️‍🔥

Want to read this in podfic form? (Note: A "podcast" fic is a narrated version by my lovely friend Sandra, one of the hosts of the Idling in the Impala SPN podcast.)

🎙️ Listen to the episode by clicking the thumbnail below:

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Smoke Eater Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Series Tag List (Part 1):

@hobby27 @kazsrm67 @letheatheodore @agothwithheavysetmakeup @jacklesbrainworms

@foxyjwls007 @wincastifer @iamsapphine @simpforbuckyb @roseblue373

@this-is-me19 @emily-winchester @spnexploration @deans-spinster-witch @deans-baby-momma

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@chernayawidow @beskarfilms @mimaria420 @illicithallways @fics-pics-andotherthings-i-like

[choerypetal]

Pink Laptop / Sam Winchester

summary: Sam and you attempted to conceal your relationship out of fear of his brother. However, you both decided to subtly hint at it through small gestures, like borrowing his flannel shirt. Him reading the books you like. But what happens if during one of these covert acts, while on a scavenger hunt at your campus, Sam unveiled an unusual shade of pink laptop. That happens to be exactly yours.

ps; english ins't my first language so i apologize for any grammar mistake!

enjoy xo'

The boys were on a mission, an unexpected one unfolding right in the heart of your campus. Despite your adamant stance against urban legends the night before, fate seemed to have its own ironic twist. As they escorted you to college that morning, whispers of a tragic incident—a student's demise in the restroom—rippled through the air. You recognized the familiar expression on their faces all too well. "You're not suddenly interested in what is being brought up now, are you?" you quipped, stepping out of the Impala. Dressed impeccably, the boys offered no protest, simply acknowledging your annoyance at their presence on campus. Sam, in his typical teasing manner, assured, "Fear not, we're here to work, not to distract you," playfully tousling your hair before heading inside to meet the college director. 

Throughout the day, the Winchesters traversed the college grounds, their first stop being a discussion with your director, proposing an investigation at the scene of the crime. Meanwhile, you found yourself engrossed in midterm studies, only to realize that Sam had commandeered your laptop for further research. This left you with a choice: either borrow a library laptop or abandon studying altogether in favor of grabbing lunch. Just as you were contemplating your options, a familiar face intercepted you, halting your movement with a friendly grip on your arm. "Y/N!" she exclaimed, her smile wide. "It's been ages... well, two weeks," she teased, keenly aware of your recent absence. Sensing an opportunity for a chat, she suggested lunch at the college's balcony café, an offer you couldn't refuse. "Lead the way," you replied, grateful for the chance to catch up. 

The presence of the brothers didn't escape the notice of the students, particularly those of your age, who cast admiring glances toward the pair. Dean, ever the flirt, couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from the waitress, much to Sam's annoyance as he diligently typed away on your laptop. "You know," Dean remarked teasingly, his attention still fixed on the waitress, "if Y/N has friends..." Sam's expression twisted into one of irritation, anticipating his brother's predictable banter. 

"So... your sole reason for this hunt was to flirt with the waitress?" Sam shot a brief glance back, acutely aware that using your laptop, with its bright pink cover, did nothing to enhance his flirting abilities. "If it weren't for that damn laptop cover..." Dean's comment only served to further irritate Sam, who chose to ignore it, opting instead to retort, "She offered it," though Dean's skeptical expression made it clear he found this explanation unsatisfactory.

As you and your friend strolled toward the college café, they made it quite clear they wanted to sit near the Winchesters. You were oblivious to their presence as you were engrossed in chatting with your friend. Faced away from where Dean and Sam were seated. Your friend, however, couldn't resist ogling Dean, who, to your surprise, refrained from returning the teasing glances. "Earth to Beth," you joked, waving your hand in front of her face. Following her gaze, you turned to find Dean and Sam behind you. What caught you off guard was how charming Sam looked holding your laptop, dressed sharply in a suit, while Dean awkwardly munched on his burger. No distraction, Y/N. "Oh my god," you interrupted Beth's thoughts as she realized you knew them. "Seriously?" you teased, feigning disgust and enjoying Beth's blush. "Wait– You know them? Why didn't you tell me you were acquainted with these two handsome gentlemen? Let's go join them!"

You were tempted to go along with the plan. Knowing that the boys were solely focused on their work meant that interactions would be slim, and you'd only be back in the Impala at the end of the day, as per Dean's suggestion for the hunt. However, Sam wasn't keen on the idea, as it meant he'd have to sneak out. Not only to avoid making your relationship too obvious but also because you agreed to let him borrow your laptop, much to Dean's suspicion when he noticed the pink hue. "Pink? Seriously?" he had remarked that morning when Sam used the excuse of needing a new lap top case, to protect it. 

Little did you realize, within the blink of an eye, Beth had linked her arm with yours, flashing a joyous yet subtly seductive smile. Just as you turned your attention towards the boys, you could almost lip-read Dean's warning: "They're coming, stay professional." Without hesitation, Beth took the lead, her demeanor becoming flirtatious, her gestures deliberate, and her movements suggestive, embodying the quintessential flirt. This made Dean even more intrigued, while Sam and you felt increasingly uneasy as you confessed how you knew them. Of course, Dean graciously extended an invitation to both of you, much to Sam's amusement, who observed you squirming uncomfortably beside him.

"Hey, isn't that Y/N's laptop?" Beth asked, prompting Dean to shoot Sam a disdainful glance. "You son of a bitch—" Dean began, already aware that the laptop belonged to you as he retrieved it from Sam's hands, noticing the familiar stickers adorning the back. Sam nervously swallowed, watching as you attempted to discreetly excuse yourself. "No, no, no, sweetheart," Dean interjected, his gaze hardly leaving you before shifting to Sam. "Explain." 

"Well, I guess that's my cue to leave," your friend Beth said nervously, rising to give you a kiss on the cheek. Dean couldn't resist sneaking his phone number in the palm of her hand, eliciting a blush from her cheeks. You reassured her that you'd call her back tomorrow. With that exchange, you could tell that Sam and you were in for a long discussion based on the look on Dean's face. 

The ride was quiet. The hunt was over, Sam and you had no choice but to comply with the silence. "Now," Dean's irritation was palpable. Sam shifted uncomfortably in his seat, stealing glances at you to ensure you were alright. "Since when?" Dean's gaze remained fixed on the road, yet he managed to sneak a glance at you through the car's rear view mirror. "Since the beginning of the semester..." you murmured softly. "At first, it was just reading books, then..."

"To him using your stuff?" He almost took offense, but you sensed something amiss. There was a hint of amusement in Dean's disgust and envy, as if he couldn't believe how adorably silly these actions were, and how he hadn't noticed them before. Whether it was you borrowing one of Sam's flannels under the guise of it being a size too big or Sam unexpectedly diving into fantasy books, it was all too amusing. And now the pink laptop. "I can't believe I never saw it," he sighed, prompting both of you to burst into laughter before Dean could even try to silence you. "Shut up," he grumbled playfully.

"You still have Beth’s awaiting call," you teased, leaning on the two boys and pinching Dean's cheek. "Ha ha, very funny," he retorted sarcastically. You glanced at Sam, relieved by his brother's reaction, albeit a bit peculiar, and leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his lips. "And don't even think about making out in the Impala," Dean added with a playful smirk.

You could feel Sam's lips curve into a sly smirk as he looked at you with doe eyes. "We never know," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

[bigfan-fanfic]

Got A Problem With That? (Male!Reader x Dean Winchester)

@innerpiratefun Can you make a part 2 of Dean Winchester x Male Reader he's a mechanic in California, it's my favorite fic also could you include a part where Sam realizes the collar and says something to dean but dean doesn't take it off or something like that, btw love your fics

Here's PART 1

"He's good at that stuff. Maybe better than you." Dean smirks at his little brother.

Sam scoffs. Skeptical.

Dean chuckles, turning up the music.

They've left you back at the motel - there's no way you're letting Dean travel off alone for this journey, but you're also not skilled in monster hunting, so you've made yourself useful through research.

You're currently compiling a little database on monsters through research and the brothers' anecdotes.

You're not very happy about being dragged into a search for John Winchester, but you want to support Dean, who seems to have genuinely missed his brother.

Besides, apparently Sam tried to leave, but was driven into a deeper need for vengeance when his girlfriend was killed in the same way as their mom.

"You're pretty, ah, serious with him, yeah?" Sam asks again. In the two weeks since you started traveling together, Sam has asked this quite a few times.

"Yeah." Dean responds shortly - as he has each time. He knows their dad might be weird about it. Knows he and Sam weren't exactly raised to even know about sexuality besides heterosexuality.

They both know things, but it's still... awkward to see each other after so long and have to share that.

Dean's been wearing a leather jacket and many layers - trying a little harder not to let his collar show.

It's technically just a necklace, but it serves the same purpose.

You have a thicker leather one for play, but for just wearing, it's a black chain of twisted links attached to a black circle. It's not particularly noticeable, but it is distinctive.

"So... what's this?" Sam asks, reaching out and pointing at the necklace.

Dean tenses as if about to smack Sam's hand away, as if thinking he was going to touch the necklace. "Y/N gave it to me."

"Oh. It's... nice."

"Thanks."

Sam clears his throat, uncomfortable. "Looks kinda like a BDSM thing."

Dean winces. And that tells Sam all he needs to know.

He chuckles a little. "Wow, Dean."

"Shut up." Dean growls. He's not laughing.

"Jeez..." Sam smirks, happy to get under his skin. "I was just-"

"It's something special to my partner and me. That's all you need to know. And all I feel like telling you. Got it?"

"Okay."

The drive is unbearably awkward, especially on the way to take down another spirit.

"Dean?" Sam asks as they park.

"Yeah?" Dean asks gruffly.

"I'm... I'm happy you're that close with someone. I wanted to have what you have with... with Jess."

Dean shifts uncomfortably. But he doesn't protest or shy away - you've helped him learn to communicate and part of that is listening.

"So yeah. It's really cool that you have a partner you're so close to. You're a lot less of a douche than you were." Sam chuckles.

"Yeah. Th-thanks."

"Jerk."

"Bitch."

Sam makes to open his door. "How'd you pull a guy so much smarter than you, anyway?"

They leave the car, already more relaxed.

"Yeah, well, it's actually a funny story..."

[thefirst3chapters]

Thinking about the car accident aftermath in "Teach Me Tonight" again:

Luke is understandably all over the place in the episode where Jess is sent to town. He's simultaneously buying Frosted Flakes and explaining to a skeptical Lorelai that all Jess needs is someone to "give him a little space" and "treat him like a man." Luke resists Lorelai's overreactive but not entirely unreasonable questions and advice until he responds to Jess's defiance and declaration of not wanting help by pushing him off the bridge. Then, he goes right to Lorelai as he panics about not being cut out to raise a kid (he's made a big mentality shift here!) because of having "no patience for jam hands." She reminds him that Jess isn't a toddler, but this situation is going to take work.

Fast forward to "Teach Me Tonight." The first two things Rory tells Lorelai over the phone in reference to the accident are "I need you to be calm" and "I'm alright." Rory has already buried her own reaction and is trying to put Lorelai at ease as much as she can; for not the first or the last time, she has to be the more mature person in their relationship. Lorelai demands that Rory have extra tests that the doctor didn't recommend, and then she leaves Rory at the hospital to hunt Jess down. It isn't Lorelai's intent to make Rory carry both their emotions by herself, but that's what ends up happening even though Lorelai is extensively focused Rory's physical injury. It says a lot about how Lorelai and Rory function as each other's peers and as each other's parents. The only person who will offer advice that matches the injury Rory actually has, listen to how she feels about the accident, and validate her perspective is Luke.

When Luke finds Jess hunched over on the bridge, Jess doesn't say anything about his own safety or ask Luke to stay calm. He just says, "I made sure she was okay." This is of course reflective of how much Jess cares about Rory and how devastated he is about her getting hurt, but it also strongly suggests that it doesn't even occur to Jess that his own well-being would matter to Luke. One could understand why Jess might've thought that way; Luke is openly, sometimes extremely, protective of Rory and continues to be when Rory is years older than Jess is here. He confronts both Dean and Logan unprompted on Rory's behalf. He wants to intervene when Rory decides to leave Yale and maintains a warm relationship with her even though he avoided addressing Jess's school/work situation directly until he kicked him out and later yelled at him for returning for his car. We know what's in Luke's heart here, though, because he just explained it to Lorelai at the cost of their relationship. He won't rest until he knows both kids are okay.

Luke could've in this moment screamed at Jess for being reckless with Rory, damaging property, smoking, and throwing a wrench in his friendship with Lorelai. He could've demanded that Jess be a man and stick around to repair the damage and face the wrath they both know is impending. He doesn't do any of those things, though. He sees how anguished Jess is and realizes now that he shouldn't have to be a man quite yet. Luke offers the precious comfort of immediately believing that Jess took care of Rory with "I know you did," and that's that. Of all the choices Luke could've made here, he chooses a quiet sort of mercy, so there they are in calming silence with their matching postures and green jackets and emotional repression in the same place where Luke shoved Jess into the water months earlier. Yes, there's an argument to be made that Jess going back wasn't the right way to handle this, but at the same time that choice has incredible compassion behind it.

The variety of parent/child relationships on this show is just so fascinating; it's a snapshot of families living in the same time and in the same place, and no two dynamics or perspectives on how a child should be raised are the same. These relationships are all deeply flawed and are sources of immense harm at times, but they're grounded in so much love.

[somedaylazysomeday]

Noisy - Part Three

Viktor is going to be busy in the lab for the next week. He comes over to tell you personally.

Viktor x fem!reader

Rating: Explicit. Minors DNI

Word Count: 5,200

Warnings: Arguments, misunderstandings, Viktor has a chip on his shoulder, fingering, unprotected piv sex, discussions of sex with disabilities, creampie

Previous | Next | Masterlist

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The knock on your door was a surprise. 

Not that you didn’t have friends, but very few of them worked or studied at the Academy of Science, Technology, and Innovation in Piltover. Of that small group, even fewer of them would come visit you at your apartment unannounced.

Which meant it was probably one of your neighbors. Your downstairs neighbor was a rather bubbly girl attempting to become a professional musician. She studied under a cellist who taught at the Academy - though you had never quite managed to figure out why a school of science and engineering had a concert orchestra. In any case, she helped conduct the orchestra when she wasn’t working with the professor and gave lessons to students in her off hours. 

But given that you hadn’t heard any music coming from her apartment that day, she was probably preparing for the holiday concert that the orchestra was putting on next week. 

That left Viktor - scientist, assistant to the Academy’s Dean, and your upstairs neighbor.

He was also the man you had shared a brief sexual encounter with a few weeks prior. In your defense, you had been trying to force him to go to sleep so he would stop making so much noise late at night. It didn’t hurt that Viktor was devastatingly attractive, but you had really been more focused on the sleep. 

Another knock shook you from your reverie. It was softer, almost hesitant, and you hurried to open the door. 

Sure enough, Viktor stood on the other side. You took a moment to congratulate yourself for your deductive reasoning, then smiled at him. “Hey Viktor. What’s up?” 

He smiled back, but it looked sickly. You watched his thumb strum nervously along the handle of his cane. “I wanted to let you know that I spoke to Heimerdinger and got permission to work late in the lab next week.” 

You nodded thoughtfully. “I know that curfew has been the bane of your existence for a while now. Do you have a specific project you’re working on or is he just tired of you trying to break in?” 

Viktor’s uncomfortable smile turned to a scowl and you fought back a chuckle. Stiffly, he told you, “I do not try to break in, I-” 

A hand lifted between the two of you interrupted whatever he intended to say next. With your most serious expression, you said, “Viktor! I don’t want to be a party to your crimes!” 

He gave a deep sigh. “You are a menace.” 

You finally broke, and your laughter made him smile. It was a real one and you reached out to pat his arm. “There you are. I needed to see you happy, not fake happy. You’re a terrible actor.” 

Viktor rolled his eyes, though he was still smiling. “And to think I was trying to be a considerate neighbor…”

“Go ahead,” you told him. He raised an eyebrow and you laughed despite yourself. “I’m serious! I’m done. Please say what you came here to say.” 

Though he still looked deeply skeptical, Viktor relented. “I received permission to conduct experiments outside of the lab curfew. I will be working late at the lab for much of the next week. I wanted to tell you myself.” 

A realization was tingling at the back of your mind, but like any good scientist, you needed to test it. You kept your face blankly serene as you nodded. “Thank you for letting me know, Viktor. I hope your experiments go well.” 

He looked mildly disappointed. “Thank you. And I hope your week is pleasant. You will not have me around to make noise over your head.” 

“That will take some getting used to,” you teased. 

“And you likely will not see me very often,” Viktor added, ducking his head at your joke. “When I am home, I will be sleeping. And we work in such different sections of the campus…”

You nodded slowly, your hypothesis all but proven. “That’s good to know. I would have wondered if you were avoiding me.” 

“Never,” he denied instantly. 

That made you feel warm, as did the way Viktor stood in the hall, nervously shifting his weight back and forth as his thumb tapped frantically at the handle beneath his fingers. Despite his clear unease, Viktor glanced at you every few seconds, eyes bright and hopeful in a way that you found both amusing and sweet. 

“I suppose I should leave you,” Viktor admitted, slumping slightly. 

“You know,” you started, pausing the half-pace Viktor had taken in the opposite direction. “If you want to sleep together, all you have to do is ask. If that’s in any way what you were-”

“Can we sleep together?”

The immediacy of the question made you laugh aloud even as you nodded and stepped back. “Well, I was in the middle of grading some papers, but it can wait.” 

“I can wait, if you prefer?” Viktor said, in the middle of crossing the threshold into your apartment. 

“No, you’re going to be gone for the next week,” you reminded. “Besides, this sounds much better than slogging through another essay on population ecology. Come on inside.” 

Viktor seemed almost sprightly as he stepped into your apartment, the tip of his cane hardly touching the ground. He looked around eagerly, studying the interior of your living room with such intensity that you were forcibly reminded that he had never seen it before. With that in mind, you did your best to look around with a fresh perspective. 

The furniture was well-worn - all of it was, in this particular housing unit - but you had done what you could. You'd used an assortment of soft blankets to cover stains or tears while comfortable pillows that shielded your back from spots where the padding beneath the upholstery had all but disappeared. The small table in front of the couch bore stacks of textbooks, reference guides, and the aforementioned papers you had been grading. 

The apartment’s small kitchen was visible from where Viktor was standing, a wine bottle and an old dish sitting in plain sight on the countertop. But you were far too wary of pests to allow any kind of mess in the kitchen, so you didn’t have much to be embarrassed of in there. 

Overall, it was a little messy - especially compared to the stark desolation of Viktor’s apartment - but the most notable feature of your living room wasn’t found in the furniture or in the traces of your work that were scattered around. 

You had installed a collection of corkboards and dry-erase boards around the apartment. The corkboards held the results of your latest experiments while the dry-erase boards held scrawled collections of notes and ideas about relationships between criteria. Your goal was to go around and gather those musings once per week so you could erase the boards, but it had been a while and they were cluttered with your handwriting. 

Anyone else might have made some bland comment about your apartment, but Viktor cut directly to what interested him. After moving to study one of the dry-erase boards more closely, he gestured to it and asked, “What are you attempting to calculate?” 

“Well, each board is set up to have its own focus,” you explained. “On that one in particular, I’m trying to figure out why the toxicity in the Sump level of the Undercity is as high as it is.” 

Viktor’s shoulders tightened, but his voice was bland as he said, “Perhaps it has something to do with the large levels of industrial waste and chemical byproduct that moves through or is stored in the area.” 

He was here to fuck, not fight, you reminded yourself. And yet, even after you had taken a breath and bitten back your immediate harsh response, you couldn’t let the implied insult to your scholarly skills go unchallenged. 

You marched to a corkboard on the other side of the doorway, tapping it sharply with your forefinger. “Yes, I realize that, but look at the particular levels of these toxins. They don’t match up with those you would expect to see from anything produced by the plants in Factorywood.”

“No Undercity industries admit to what they are truly producing,” Viktor said, eyes still roaming over your hastily written notes. They lingered on where you had written ‘Silco?’ beneath a particularly strong toxin found in some products from Priggs Industries. 

“”Of course they don’t,” you agreed easily. “But the toxic by-products still generally match up with what everyone knows the factories are producing. From these numbers, someone on the Sump level is creating chemical products in a quantity that threatens the existence of the entire city, not to mention the serious health risks linked to living in the Gray.”

Viktor sighed, his dark eyes meeting yours. There was a deep sadness in their depths, and it made your heart ache to see it. “It is a noble thing to work on a problem like the Undercity’s health. But you will not get far with it. Piltover has more to gain from looking to the future rather than fixing the problems of the present or the past.” 

“You’re from the Undercity, right?” you asked, needlessly. You knew where Viktor was from. Everyone did - it was one of the reasons he struggled to be respected despite his incredible intellect. 

“You think I do not care for where I am from?” he asked, a sharpness in his voice. “You think I would not keep others from enduring what I endured?” 

The sharp thump of his cane against the floor was loud in your living room, but you kept from wincing. With your steady gaze fixed on him, you slowly shook your head. “I don’t think that at all, Viktor. But I also think Piltover will care about these findings, even if it’s just for self-preservation purposes.” 

“You realize they are more likely to clear the Undercity than make meaningful changes?”

That was something you hadn’t truly considered, though you should have. Anyone with a brain knew that Piltover’s treatment of the Undercity had been reckless and unhelpful. 

Still, you lifted your chin. “I will keep that in mind moving forward, but I have to believe I can do something meaningful to help the people who have no choice but to live there.”

Viktor was quiet then, his gaze fixed blankly on the dry-erase board in front of him as his thoughts consumed him. Eventually, he tilted his head to give you a sidelong look. “Why are the boards next to doorways?” 

You smiled despite yourself. “Sometimes, I get flashes of inspiration if I only catch a glimpse of a problem. Something about seeing the information as I walk into and out of a room when I’m doing another task makes me think differently about a problem. That’s why the boards are everywhere, too - so I can write down what I’ve thought of before it has a chance to get away.” 

“It is a good idea,” Viktor admitted. 

“The Academy has plenty more boards and you definitely have the space for them,” you teased. 

The ghost of a smile flitted over Viktor’s face and the odd tension disappeared. "Perhaps I should look into having some installed. They certainly seem to be helping you." 

You made a face at him, but there was no real antagonism in it. “I have to admit, I’m surprised you’re so interested in the boards. I thought you were here for other things.” 

Viktor’s gaze sharpened as he turned to face you, but his tone was light as he retorted, “Talking about your research findings doesn’t put you in the correct frame of mind? I would have thought better of such a respected scientist.” 

The unexpected teasing brought a delighted laugh to your lips as you gave a shallow bow. “I don’t think anyone thinks of me as a respected scientist, but I appreciate the sentiment.”

“I happen to have a great deal of respect for you,” Viktor said, the effort ruined somewhat by the way he was focused on your lips. “Can I kiss you?” 

“So much for respect,” you said, leaning eagerly toward him. Viktor was smirking when his soft lips pressed against yours. 

The first time you had kissed, Viktor had been hesitant. When he had gotten over his own discomfort, the depth of his need became apparent, but not before that. This time, his intensity was immediate. After a split second of softness, Viktor’s lips firmed and he used them to part yours so his tongue could slip into the space between them. 

Viktor tried to pull back at the surprised noise you made, but you weren’t having it. Your hands fisted in the front of his vest, keeping him close as you responded to his explorations with some of your own. Viktor was exceedingly sensitive, and you teased as many reactions from him as you could manage before you parted for air, both of you panting. 

“There is such a reaction when we kiss,” Viktor mused, almost to himself. “It cannot be simple chemistry.” 

“I don’t think there’s anything simple about it,” you countered wryly. “Besides, why can’t it be chemistry? Everything else is. Every smell or taste or touch… Chemistry is how we understand and interact with the world around us. Why should kissing be any different?” 

“You are being deliberately obtuse,” Viktor muttered, mouthing butterfly kisses over your jaw and down the side of your neck. You were swaying into the sensation when his lips parted to deliver a sharp nip to the tender skin. You groaned, but didn’t move away. 

“See?” Viktor asked. “Why should that feel pleasant? Simply because of chemistry?” 

“Dopamine, serotonin, and oxycontin,” you informed him. “They’re a strong combination.”

He rolled his eyes, but leaned in again, working his way back up until he could meet you in a furious kiss once more. It managed to be more intense than the first, though both of your attention was split. Viktor was ruching your shirt upward while you were doing your best to unbutton his vest. 

“Your skin is so soft…” he murmured, and you felt like you were on fire. 

Perhaps that was why you forgot yourself, giving his vest a sharp yank. Buttons scattered across the floor and Viktor gave a disbelieving laugh. You offered an apologetic look. “This would be much easier if you didn’t insist on wearing fourteen layers at all times.”

“You are right; that was my fault,” he agreed. You smiled, though it turned to a startled laugh when his fingers tickled up your ribcage. You probably would have protested more vocally if you hadn’t been so relieved at his pulling the shirt over your head. 

“No,” you said decisively, pushing his hands away. Viktor immediately withdrew, looking apologetic, horrified, and confused. “You don’t get the easy job. I’ll take off my own clothes and you deal with all of the buttons.”

Viktor���s eyebrows arched so sharply that they approached his hairline, but he obediently began to undress himself. You made short work of your own outfit and took a comfortable seat on the couch. The soft texture of a blanket teased at your buttocks and the backs of your bare thighs and you luxuriated in the feeling. Perhaps you should lounge around your apartment in the nude more often…

Then Viktor was approaching. He was completely bare and your breath caught at the beauty of him. He was pale, all long-limbs and angular joints. Dark freckles and moles dotted his skin, almost artistic in their placement. Instead of looking small and frail, Viktor put you in mind of a sculpture. He looked like a piece of ancient artwork, perfectly formed to capture a human emotion you recognized, but couldn’t quite verbalize.

The thatch of hair at his pubic bone was dark, eye-catching surrounded by the stretches of pale skin. His cock rose from that darkness, proud and erect, the slightest hint of an upward curve that promised to do delicious things inside of you. 

Before Viktor could come too close to the couch, you stood and motioned for him to turn around. “Let’s go to my room. I want us to be comfortable.” 

When he nodded, you led the way to your room. It was plain compared to the rest of your apartment. You tried to keep the most chaotic parts of your work away. Bedrooms were for sleeping, not thinking, and you did your best to keep the two from being combined in your mind. 

But there were still touches of your personality spread around. You had specifically requested a bed that was larger than average. There were pillows scattered at the head, each one a slightly different softness so you could use whatever pillow you needed for each specific day. They were matched by different blankets across the lower part of the bed. Each one was made of different fabrics, but all of them felt like heaven against your skin. 

You stepped toward the bed, but froze when Viktor let out a soft chuckle behind you. “What?”

Viktor gestured toward the bed with his free hand. “It seems they have allocated my returned bed to you.” 

It took a moment for that to sink in, but then you belted out a laugh. “Thank you for your sacrifice, then. I hope to give you a glimpse of what you gave up.”

“It has a better life here than I could ever give it with me.” When you looked at him, Viktor was studying your body with obvious admiration. 

Before you could tell him how utterly cheesy that was - no matter how charming you found it as well - he stepped into kissing range. Well, you had always heard it was better to show than to tell…

This kiss was no less demanding than the last had been. In fact, each touch seemed to increase in urgency, building toward a precipice. It was exactly what you wanted from someone you were about to sleep with, and you started to get impatient with the teasing touches. 

“Any-” kiss “Any preference?” kiss “For position, I mean.” 

Viktor looked dazed, drunk on your lips, but a concerning thought jarred you from your self-satisfaction. “Wait, this isn’t your- Is this the first time you’ve done this?” 

He frowned at you, color rising high on his cheekbones. “Did you not ask this the last time?”

“Did I?” Honestly, as much as you had thought about that night in the time since it happened, very few of your thoughts had centered on the conversation you’d shared before your focus shifted to other things. “And what was the answer?”

“No, believe it or not,” he grumbled. “I have managed to find at least one partner before you.” 

“Oh, good.” 

Viktor’s eyebrows shot upward at that. “Not quite the reaction I had expected.”

“Sorry,” you offered instantly, hoping you hadn’t hurt his pride. Viktor seemed a little sensitive about his self-image. “I just meant that I’m glad you found someone you wanted to share this with in the past.” 

“How magnanimous,” he said dryly. “But I would prefer if you wanted to share this with me now instead of asking if I am virginal.”

“Virginal?” you asked, nose wrinkling. “Am I an 18th century lord? I don’t care if you’re- ah!”

With a well-placed push, Viktor had sent you sprawling across the bed. The sheer number of blankets over the mattress meant that the impact was so minimal that you hardly noticed it, but you still took a moment to blink up at Viktor in surprise. 

For his part, Viktor looked so self-satisfied that his expression verged on smug. He stepped up to the edge of the bed and stooped to lean over you when you remembered your original point. 

“Wait, I was asking for a reason,” you protested. 

A look of genuine irritation crossed Viktor’s handsome face. “No, you are not my first.”

“Not-” You took a second to give a silent laugh. “Not that. I meant about positions. Do you have a preference?” 

“Not in the slightest,” he assured you. “Now, if you were to ask for my preferences on when we get together, I have several strong opinions-”

“And your leg will be okay?” you asked softly. Viktor paused. “I don’t want this to hurt you.”

“I am not so delicate,” he said. “Any further objections?” 

“Only that you’re not already inside of me.” 

The stunned look on Viktor’s face at your tongue-in-cheek answer was a glorious sight to see. But it was fleeting; only a moment later, his jaw firmed with determination and he crawled onto the bed. Most of his weight was supported on his arms, planted firmly on either side of you, and the weight that remained on his legs didn’t seem to bother Viktor in the slightest. 

So you didn’t feel bad for losing yourself in the sensations. 

Perhaps, given the nature of your first hookup, you shouldn’t have been shocked that Viktor would want to explore. He sucked a mark over your collarbone, and you could feel his smile at the noises it pulled from you. When his clever fingers dropped to your breast, you froze under his touch. Viktor finally pulled away from the tender place on your skin, but only so he could study every microexpression that crossed your face at the feeling of his fingers on the sensitive peak. 

When he finally pulled away, you arched into his retreating touch. Viktor managed to soothe you into lying against the bed once more. That made it far easier for him to lower himself onto top of you, his hips pressing squarely between your thighs. Suddenly, losing his hand on your breast felt like a fair trade. 

When those talented fingers drifted down to your core, you wriggled impatiently. “I’m ready, I promise. Please, Viktor…”

He looked conflicted. “I know. I will give both of us what we want in a moment. But I- I need to feel you.”

Any further arguments you might have made faded away with the feeling of his long finger sinking into you. Your body accepted him easily, so easily that you might have been embarrassed by it if you weren’t so relieved by the feeling of something to grip with your desperate muscles. 

Viktor withdrew his finger far too soon. You groaned when he studied it for a moment before putting it in his mouth. Then you were groaning together and your core clenched so sharply that it took your breath away. 

“Viktor-”

He gave a decisive nod, lined the head of himself up with your entrance, and began pushing inside of you. As if your body was angry at having lost your previous stimulation so soon, the muscles of your channel contracted around his length. In fact, they spasmed so hard that Viktor paused. 

“Am I hurting you?” 

The real concern in his voice was sweet, but you were nearing desperation. “Only because you’re going so slow. Please, Viktor…”

He gave a stuttered half-thrust into you, clearly trying to stop himself before he drove too hard into you. With a crooked smile, he said, “Have I ever mentioned that I enjoy hearing you say my name?” 

“No, but I can do better than that,” you offered. “Start moving now and I’ll scream it for you.” 

Viktor’s eyes widened and he started a series of pulsing thrusts, each one driving himself a little further inside of you. When he was - at last - as deep as he could be, you both paused to soak in the sensations of it. His hips were flush against your ass and one of you was throbbing. You were too close to know which of you it was. 

Most of your focus was on the realization that you had been right: that slight curve of Viktor’s length was in exactly the right place to press against your g-spot. The delicious pressure of it made your toes curl and you lifted your hips in an effort to urge him deeper. 

When you remembered that your eyes worked, you smiled a little to see the intense concentration on Viktor’s face. Your hands smoothed down his back and when they were as low as you could reach, you pulled him closer, urging him into motion.

For someone who had a tendency to be oblivious, Viktor took the hint beautifully. With an audible sound from where you were joined, he pulled out. His motions were achingly slow, but he thrust back in before his head could leave you entirely. This push of his hips was made up of more mini-thrusts. The next only had a few. Then he was driving full-force into you at a pace that took your breath away. 

And his. 

Getting a little winded during sex wasn’t exactly uncommon, especially when things were as heated as they were with Viktor, but it worried you. The legs you had wrapped around his waist - though you couldn’t remember exactly when you had done that - could feel tremors wracking the right side of his body. They seemed to stem from his weaker leg, and it was quickly growing more severe. He was frowning, and while it seemed to be mostly concentration, there was more than a hint of genuine pain buried in the wrinkles of his forehead.

“Viktor,” you started, cutting off with a low cry when he slammed into you. “Viktor, wait.” 

It took another half thrust for your request to filter through the fog of good sex. When it did hit him, Viktor slowed, though you could see the strain of it in his muscles. “What is it?” 

“Roll over,” you said. “I can tell you’re hurting.” 

An expression of displeasure crossed his face. “I told you: I am fine.” 

“You aren’t,” you argued, watching his face turn incredulous. “Viktor, I can see it. It’s not a bad thing. I like being on top.” 

“I don’t need you to pretend you know what’s best for me!” he snapped. 

Arguing with someone who was currently buried inside of you was a new experience. From the stubbornness in Viktor’s eyes and the set of his jaw, he wasn’t going to let you win. You would bash yourself to pieces against the stone of Viktor’s personality. But maybe you could try a different tactic…

“Please, Viktor,” you murmured. “I promise, I’ll still make things feel good for both of us. Just let me do this. Let me take care of both of us, even if you don’t need me to.”

You watched him think that over. A direct and combative approach wouldn’t get anywhere with Viktor, he had spent too much of his life fighting. But the one-two punch of logic and emotion helped you get through the walls he had built around himself. 

He didn’t agree verbally - that would be too much like admitting defeat. But he carefully withdrew from you and settled onto the bed beside you. When you realized what was happening, you scrambled upright and straddled his thighs as soon as he was fully horizontal. 

The brief pause had done strange things to your libido, but it came roaring back as soon as you saw Viktor lying beneath you, his body still hard and eager and shining with remnants of you. 

You sank down onto him so quickly that it pulled a startled noise from both of you. And then you were moving, surging up and down so quickly that the muscles of your legs started aching almost immediately. That wasn’t enough to stop you, not nearly, especially when you saw the stunned pleasure on Viktor’s face. 

You rested your hands gently on his chest, using him more for balance than a true counterpoint, but Viktor thrust his hips sharply. The force of it knocked you off balance, pushing you forward until you were braced against him. 

His hands covered yours, keeping them planted over his heart. You glanced up at him, unsurprised to see Viktor’s intense gaze fixed on you. “I will not break.” 

You nodded, taking the low promise as truth. With the additional weight resting on your hands, your legs lifted you far more easily, working up and down on his shaft. Pressing your hips backward let you brush your clit against the thatch of coarse hair at Viktor’s base, but it also pressed that slight curve against your g-spot. Your inner muscles tightened so hard and fast that Viktor made a shocked noise and you started having trouble keeping your rhythm. 

“Are you close?” he asked, chest rising and falling more rapidly under your hands. 

You didn’t quite trust your voice, so you nodded again. He nodded with you. “Me too. Where-?”

“Inside,” you interrupted. You used birth control for several reasons, but sex actually wasn’t one of them. Having someone come inside of you wasn’t a sensation you particularly enjoyed, but you were close and pulling out was always tricky when you were on top. And Viktor felt so good…

His eyes widened. “Are you-?”

Before he could ask if you were sure, you had fallen over the edge. You fingers curled against Viktor’s skin, legs tingling so badly that you almost stopped moving on him. But as if your body was willing to circumvent your brain to keep the stimulation going, your legs and hips and torso kept going. You were moving up and down and forward and back all in an effort to chase the incredible pleasure that wracked your body and made your movements stutter.

Somewhere in the middle of your orgasm, Viktor reached his as well. He stiffened under your hands and between your legs, thrusting into you to drive you both higher. You felt his length twitch and pulse inside of you, along with a general sense of warmth as he spilled. 

When the incredible flood of endorphins began to fade, you collapsed like a puppet with cut strings. You slumped forward onto Viktor’s chest with him still buried deep inside of you. His hand came to rest on your back, stroking your overheated flesh. You stayed like that for a long while, your ear pressed to the reassuring sound of his gradually slowing pulse. 

“That was incredible,” he said eventually. His voice was low, but the awe in it was unmistakable. 

“It was pretty good,” you agreed. 

A displeased noise escaped him and you lifted your head to look at him, wincing at the way your sweaty skin had stuck to his. “What’s wrong?” 

“There is a considerable difference between ‘incredible’ and ‘pretty good’,” he told you, the disgust clear in his voice. 

You were already smiling at the way ‘pretty good’ sounded in his accent. “Sorry, I meant it was the single most mind-blowing experience of my entire life. Is that better?” 

Viktor hummed, but his amber eyes sparkled down at you. “That seems like a lie. But it is fine. We can work up to incredible.” 

You chuckled at that, and Viktor pressed a kiss to the back of your hand as you settled back against him.

---

Author's Note - You'll note that this isn't a two-part fic, but there will be another Viktor fic this Fanfic February because I had two ideas that I liked.

Thanks for reading! Please let me know what you thought!

[frootwhoops]

title: That One Date

pairing: House x Cuddy x Wilson, Hudson

description: During 03X19, this takes place when House gives Wilson the two tickets saying, “Maybe there’s someone you wanna see naked.”

warnings: usual house's jerk behavior, this is somewhat fluff? Idk.

***

For @sourjabloki @housemdanniversary

***

Wilson let out a heavy sigh as he stared blankly on his patient’s chart for an hour now. He keeps thinking what’s House trying to convey to him? What is he cooking now?

The misanthrope clearly knows that he is not seeing anyone at the moment and he, James Wilson, is taking a break from any romantic relationship.

Another sigh left his lips as his fingers slowly danced on the paper that he should be signing now. A knock wakes him from his trance, as if a solution is being served to him so he could be put in peace… or this is House playing him. It should be because there is no other reason for House’s generosity and now, Cuddy entering his office is a perfect timing that it screams suspicious.

“Wilson, I need that budget report today. You okayed me yesterday and I expected the folder to be laying prettily on my desks earlier this morning. Are you okay? I didn’t receive treatment plans and orders about your recent patient too. What’s going on?”

If he ever thinks of deflecting the situation, he is too late. Cuddy already made herself comfortable on his couch with her composure screaming, ‘Spill your guts out or I’ll make you.’

He stares pathetically in Cuddy’s eyes and says, “Nothing.”

Cuddy’s lips twisted into a smile but not those sweet and innocent smiles, it is a malicious one. “James Wilson. I need you to keep your sanity together. I won’t push you to say anything to me about your personal conflicts but I need you to deal with them.” The oncologist scratches his nape and avoids looking at Cuddy.

“I know. I’ll get the reports done at the end of the day.” He forces a smile and when Cuddy smoothened the creases on her skirt, a thought dawned on him. His palm began to sweat and his throat went dry, he repeatedly reminded himself to not panic over asking Cuddy to accompany him on a play.

“Are you busy?” Cuddy stood up and opened her mouth to fire her response away. But Wilson rises from his seat as well and he slowly approaches her.

“I-I know you are busy of course. But I have these tickets to a play and��� do you want to come with me?” Cuddy is waiting for a cue that will indicate that this is a mere stunt to antagonize her for unknown reasons but none of it came.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” She inquired quietly as if everything would vanish if she raised her voice.

“I am. As a friend of course… Unless you are busy, which is fine. I totally get it.” He rambles and rambles as he paces back and forth.

“Wilson. Wilson! Shut up. Okay. I am going with you.” Cuddy is still skeptical but she is testing the waters. For now, she will go with the flow and will attack at the right time.

“Y-You are? Okay.” He smiled like a golden retriever; a smile that would make the eyes go thin as a line, the nose crunching, and the lips that would move so softly. The kind of expression that will make your heart melt.

Cuddy’s brow went up as if she was not expecting such a reaction from him. Wilson walked towards her, squinting at her little figure.

“Wait. You.” He pointed a finger at Cuddy and she just tongue her cheeks and looked everywhere but the man, guilty.

“You don’t actually believe me? You think that I am messing with you.” The dean of medicine dismissed him by patting his arm, an indication that she is done with the conversation. 

“Why?” His expressions remained the same and the woman rolled her eyes.

“Cuddy.” There’s a hint of forcefulness in his voice that made Cuddy fully put her attention to him.

“So you don’t think we can be a thing huh?” He stated in a matter of fact.

“Well-”

“Why?” The man doesn’t know where he is getting the courage he is summoning but he feels quite proud of himself for flustering his intimidating boss.

“Well. Before you cut me off, I did not expect you to be asking me on a date that you well put together and I quote: as a friend.” He can feel that the dean of medicine is treading this response for him.

A moment passed between them before Wilson make a segue to squash the awkwardness away.

“Okay. I'll be giving you the reports later. I’ll pick you up at 9:00PM?”

“Okay.”

***

After House and Wilson’s shenanigans: the flowers and going insane about liking Cuddy. The misanthrope did not stop tearing his two friends from having a romantic relationship. 

Greg House is actually frightened as if Cuddy and Wilson dating would be the cause of human extinction.

After the head of oncologist's little art therapy for Cuddy failed, it's been two weeks and Wuddy seems to be going stronger. House must put a stop to all of it. Wilson's not tolerating him on a normal basis and Cuddy ignores his offending humor which further offends him. 

Wilson's pattern is: act like a nice friend, care for your well-being, cater your needs, and when you are finally attached and comfortable that's when he will yank himself away from you. At least, that's how House comprehended the information from his friend's ex after the condo stunt he pulled.

Now, based on his observations, Wilson's making Cuddy relax every time he sees her.

It's lunch time and he cannot find his dear friend. The last time House checked, when the boy wonder is MIA, he'll be trying to nail their boss. This time, cancer boy is making a move in the cafeteria.

“Whoopsie. Sorry to interrupt. Don't mind the cripple doctor.” He sarcastically jab at the two as he perfectly seated himself on Wilson's side.

He grabs some fries from Wilson and tries to snatch Cuddy’s orange juice. She smirks at him and silently enjoys her lunch.

“Why are you drinking orange juice?” The two lovebirds look at each other and shake their heads, readying themselves for House’s scrutinization.

The diagnostician examines Cuddy’s meal and his lips twitch; a mannerism of him that he does when he is thinking deeply.

“Wilson got this for you. Gee.” The oncologist grumbled and dropped his utensils carefully on the table. 

“House. What's your deal? So what if I gave Lisa a lunch?” House's face twisted as if he ate something sour. 

“Lisa? Tell me if you two are getting married tomorrow so I'll be feeling sorry for you in advance about divorce.” His response is full of malice and mockery. 

“Will you drop it?” Wilson is not having any of House's jerkness. He really just wants to be the support system that Lisa Cuddy needs.

The dean of medicine reached out across the table to comfort the oncologist. Cuddy let out a sigh.

“House, I won't repeat anything that I will say so you must use your brilliant brain to listen.” Wilson resigned into eating his salad and just accepted what's about to happen. He cannot convince Cuddy to ignore House since she is approaching the situation right.

“What? You'll tell me how you wanted to rock both our jocks?” House felt so proud of his statement that he snatched the rest of Wilson's fries and put it in his mouth.

When no one objects nor reprimands him of his remark, the said fries fall down from his lips.

“Aren’t you?” The misanthrope leaned towards the both of them and observed the complexion of their faces. 

“Interesting. So what’s the setup going to be? He’ll get to have you at day and you are mine at night?” Knowing House, he is making every matter into a joke, a mere bliss to deflect. But Cuddy and Wilson remained serious. 

“Can you for once act like a grown up? Just tell us what you think and if you don’t like it then you can leave it.” Cuddy looks at Wilson with a knowing look that says, “Calm down.”

“Just tell us if you're in or not, House. Also, we're official. We just don't parade our relationship for public amusement.” The dean of medicine tidies the remains of her meal and stands up. Wilson, even if he's not yet done with his lunch, also unclutters his table. 

House grumbles and softly answers. “Fine.” The two secretly hide their smirks and stop on their tracks though their backs are turned at the misanthrope.

“I want in.” Cuddy and Wilson both walked towards House and his eyes widened when the woman of his dream reached down to place a soft kiss on his lips. His throat went dry and it intensified when his best friend leaned down and did the same.

He felt his cheeks flushed and his mind went completely blank for a moment. 

“We'll be waiting for you at my house. See you at 7:00PM.” House watched Cuddy wrapped her arms around Wilson and the oncologist placed his hand around her shoulder.

“I told you. We are the death of that man.” Wilson whispered into Cuddy’s ear and she giggled. 

“For that, I'll be giving you a pat in your head tonight.” She whispered back and House felt himself having a panic attack.

***

A/N:

Hope some of you will enjoy it! Especially @sourjabloki !! I am not quite good at creating fics hehe and it's my first time posting a fic here! Thank you @housemdanniversary for being able to organize this wonderful event! I am so happy to be part of it!

[supernaturalfreewill]

“How’s it going out here?” you asked.

Dean straightened up from where he had been leaning over the engine compartment of the Impala and shrugged, wiping at his forehead with his sleeve. “Well, it’s going,” he said.

“Mmm,” you hummed, leaning up against the grill next to him. “Are yooooou almost done?” you asked hopefully.

He looked around at the scattered parts and tools and then back at you, quirking an eyebrow up. “Uhh, does it look like I am?”

You smiled at him. “Can you be almost done? Please?”

Dean gulped and fiddled with the wrench in his hand. “Come on, don’t do that.”

“Do what?” you asked innocently.

Dean ran a hand back through his hair. “Do what—that! I really need to get Baby finished up today!”

You laughed. “I don’t even know what I’m supposedly doing!” 

“Uh huh,” Dean said skeptically. “You know exactly what you’re doing. Quit it.” He had the hint of that boyish smirk on his lips that made you weak in the knees.

“Quit what?!” You smiled at him and then bit your bottom lip.

“Y/N—I mean it—I’ve gotta get this engine put back together before we need to leave for that case tomorrow. Don’t give me that look!”

You batted your eyelashes at him and smiled coyly. “Dean, I really don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Alright, that’s it,” he muttered, tossing down his tool and immediately gripping your hips and burying his face against your neck, kissing from just under your ear down to your collarbone.

You let out an appreciative sigh and looped your arms around his neck. “I win,” you said softly. 

Dean lifted your legs up to wrap around his hips and started toward the door into the bunker, his hands firmly planted on your ass. “Yeah, you always win...” But he truly didn’t sound upset about it at all...

Prompt: “Don’t give me that look.”

[apocalypseornaw]

Real or Not (Pt 5/5)

Dean Winchester x Reader

Dean makes it to Donna's

Always a pleasure "working" with @lacilou

Donna had met you at the door, waving at Claire as she backed out of the driveway. You half expected her to ask but instead she smiled "Ya know where the guestroom is and guest bathroom. Why don't ya go get a shower and change into more comfy clothes then we can talk or not whichever" you instantly pulled her into a hug trying very hard not to cry. She held you for a few moments, rubbing your back soothingly then leaned back to smile at you again "Want tea or coffee waiting?" "Tea please"

You, the boys and Jody's girl all kept extra clothes at Donna's. She was a safe place to crash. Once you were out of the shower and dressed you stared at yourself in the mirror, immediately regretting not paying better attention when you grabbed clothes. You'd gotten a pair of your sleep shorts out but the shirt you'd grabbed was an old henley of Dean's.

-----------------

You ignored the ache in your chest as you brushed your hair out then headed out the bathroom. You padded softly down the hall enjoying the feeling of the cool hardwood floor under your feet.

When you made it to the kitchen Donna was standing with her back to you, you saw she had her phone to her ear and started to step out to give her more privacy until you heard your name. The bits you caught were "Jody's gonna flip" "You shouldn't have went back Claire" "Yeah I know" "I know how two faced Camila is" "I don't think Y/N is gonna believe me though. I could strangle Dean"

You cleared your throat and had to stifle the urge to laugh when she spun around wide eyed looking very much like a kid with their hand caught in the cookie jar "Claire sweetie I gotta go. Give Jods my love and call me when ya get home"

You raised an eyebrow at her phone as she sat it down "What was that about?" She shrugged but when you crossed your arms she let out a sigh "Claire had a talk with Camila" "A talk?" You asked skeptically and she flinched "She might have gave her a black eye, broke her phone and told her if she came within fifty feet of you she'd get worse that than"

You felt your heart warm at Claire's protectiveness but felt the need to say "While I appreciate Claire wanting to defend me she doesn't need to risk getting in trouble. That bitch isn't worth it" Donna nodded slowly and held out a steaming mug. When you took it you realized she was still staring at you "What else Donna?"

She shrugged "Camila told Claire she lied about a lot, like the ring thing" you shook your head "Even if Dean wasn't looking at rings, he was willing to quit hunting.... Donna he still hadn't even told me he loves me. How many signs do I have to let slap me in the face before I accept I'm not the one for him no matter how much it rips my heart out or how much I love him"

She opened her mouth as if to say something but you quickly forced a yawn "I'm gonna take my tea to the guestroom so I can lie down if that's ok" she nodded "Of course. Holler if ya need anything" you gave her a small smile before nearly running to the guestroom, shutting the door behind yourself.

------------

You sat the tea on the dresser before sitting on the bed. What were you supposed to do now? The bunker had been your home for quite some time before you and Dean ever shared a bed. Maybe the twins wanted a third for hunting? Or you could go with Claire some?

You eventually laid across the bed, hoping sleep would pull you under.

Dean parked next to Donna's truck feeling his heart skip around in his chest. He cut his eyes at Sam as he killed the engine "What do I say to get her to listen to me?" Sam shrugged one shoulder "Honestly?"

Dean felt his jaw clench as he said "Yeah honestly. I'm trying to fight for the woman I love her and this is new territory to me Sammy" a small smile slipped onto Sam's face "Don't gameplan man. Just talk to her, stutter and stammer if you have to. Just try to tell her how you feel and make her see you mean it"

He nodded slowly before climbing out of the impala, hearing Sam get out behind him. Before they made it all the way onto the porch the front door swung open and there stood Donna looking very pissed. "DEAN WINCHESTER! WHAT DID YOU DO?"

He flinched at her tone and held his hands in front of him defensively "I promise you my own crime is being stupid enough to think Camila had changed any. Anything she told Y/N was a lie. Please let me talk to her Donna" she looked from him to Sam before nodding "Ok, Sam ya wanna ride into town we me? The dinner has decent enough food"

Sam nodded "Sure" Donna leaned in to grab her coat before looking back at Dean "She's in the guestroom. Don't make me regret this Dean" Sam patted Dean's shoulder reassuringly before following Donna off the porch.

------------

Dean stepped inside and stopped. What if you didn't want to see him? What if you didn't believe him? What if you really were through?

He wanted to give into those self depreciating thoughts he had his entire life but your face popped into his mind. The smile you'd have when you would wake up next to him, how you'd wrap your arms around him and kiss between his shoulders while he cooked. The way you'd patch him up after a hunt or sit watching his every movement with tired eyes as he patched you up.

Every moment of your relationship and even before flashed through his mind. It was worth the risk. He knew for him that you were it, he just hoped you felt the same.

-----------

He walked to the guestroom and knocked twice. After a moment he heard your sleep ridden voice "Come in Donna" he hesitated, should he tell you it was him? After a moment he pushed the door open "Hey sweetheart"

You shot up in bed and stared at Dean for a long moment. Your first urge was to run to him or even cry but you bit both those down to let venom slip into your tone as best as you could "Where's Camila?"

He shrugged "Don't know. I came here to talk to you" you stood off the bed smoothing a hand over your hair as you did so. You refused to be sitting while he stood. You needed halfway equal footing.

"Why? To tell me yourself I never measured up to her? To tell me you would've quit hunting for her? Or or or did ya come to tell me stories about her like I heard you and Sam reminiscing about WEEKS AGO!" You hadn't realized the anger that was simmering under your pain but once you started talking it refused to not be fed.

You tool a step towards him "When would I have been enough Dean? I was friends with you and Sam for so long before we ever started getting closer. You had every chance to not yet you took me into your bed. You touched me, you kissed me, you made me feel wanted like you actually cared but all the while I was falling in love with you were you still hung up on her?"

"No" he answered it so matter of factly it pissed you off further. Your teeth clenched hard as you said "Then why don't you love me? Why don't you feel about me how I feel about? WHAT DOES SHE HAVE THAT I DON'T?"

------------

You felt angry tears slip down your face half a second before Dean was pulling you into his arms. You struggled, trying to break out of his embrace but knew he was stronger than you and your traitorous heart and body wanted nothing more than to melt into him. "Why don't you love me?" You half whispered half sobbed into his chest.

"I do love you" he spoke quietly. You pulled back from him to look up into his eyes "Don't say it to save my feelings" he gave you a smile that wasn't his usual flirtatious one but was genuine nonetheless "I'm not baby please can I talk now?" You nodded so walked the two of you over to the bed and sat down scooting back against the headboard pulling you onto his lap as he went and you let him.

------------

Once you were straddling him with your head resting in the bend of his neck he started to rub circles onto your back as he spoke "She lied about me wanting to quit hunting. She lied about a lot, that's all she ever did. When me and Sam were talking about her it was because he was giving me hell for not trying to get you sooner because he was comparing how much better of a hunter, cook and woman you are and I was agreeing. I have loved you for a while now but sweetheart this is new to me, I've ran from any feelings my entire life. I've ran from the possibility of opening myself up to being hurt but you? You could rip my heart out right now and I'll use my last breath to tell you I love you"

You leaned up to look into his eyes "I've felt so out of place since I heard you two talking about her. I wanted to trust in us, not just a lovers but as friends. Dean I've never dreamt of feeling how I feel about you. I love you" you pressed a gentle kiss to his lips and he sighed lightly into your mouth, a sound of contentment. When you pulled away he smiled again "I love you Y/N. A future for me? It's you. No matter what else may come my future is you"

You smiled again, feeling tears brimming in your eyes "Shut up and kiss me like you love me Winchester" He grinned at your words "Oh I definitely can do that"

@lacilou @saranghaey @stoneyggirl2 @marimarvelfan @roseblue373 @suckitands33 @backtotheshitshow @jackles010378 @leigh70 @diagnosedpsychosis @badassbitch-21 @geekwritersworld

[chaotic-starlight24]

Dallas Winston Backstory Headcanons Part 3

Part 1, Part 2, General Headcanons

Here is my last part of his backstory headcanons :)

Warnings: None I think

Making it to Tulsa

Eventually he made it to Tulsa, OK at the age of 13 ¾. He had no plan to stay there very long. He had made it to the south so now he just planned to travel around. That was until he went to swipe something from a corner store. Suddenly the manager was right behind him.

“Hey buddy, ya can’t be doin that here.”

Dally just gave him a look, “I was, uh, going to pay Mr…Curtis?”

Did Darrel Curtis Sr. believe him? Nope. Not at all. But he could tell this kid was not from here. With that new yorker accent he was out of place. He saw that this kid hadn’t just moved here. He was alone and afraid no matter how tough he pretended to be. So he let him go and told his wife to look out for him in case she saw him.

Mrs. Curtis did eventually see him when he wandered into the diner and offered him a free meal. He hadn’t eaten in a couple days so he accepted, but was still very skeptical. She tried to ask him what he was doing in Tulsa, where he was from, yada yada. But he was of course very defensive. 

Eventually one of her kids named Sodapop came in with some of his friends. These guys named Two-Bit and Steve. Dally tried to steer himself away from them. But they welcomed him over and soon enough Dally found himself cracking a grin at their stupid jokes. He was still very untrusting, he expected that he would have to disappear soon anyways. But he found himself meeting more people.

Soon enough he met the rest of their “gang”. It was very different from any gang he had ever been in. Not that he included himself in their group. He found himself becoming very drawn to one of the younger boys. Johnny Cade. He saw himself in him, a young and more sensitive version. Dally found himself worried about him. If he was as sensitive as Johnny was he wouldn’t have survived. Johnny also took a shine to him and Dally found himself being followed around. He learned more about him and found out just how tough he really was.

He met Buck through rodeos and became sorta friends with him. He found out Buck had an extra room and bullied him into giving it to him. A 14 year old bullying a 21 year old is quite the sight.

He also met Tim Shephard, in a fight. They beat each other to a pulp after one pickpocketed the other. Afterwards they were like “Hey! I like your style!” They've been frenemies ever since.

He very quickly learned the greaser way from the gang and grew out his hair. But he never cared to grease it. He thought it made it off-color.

He was very close to the Mrs. Curtis and would help her out no matter what the task was. Her and her husband were what made Dally believe that maybe he could stay there. Though he would occasionally have mood swings and not want to talk to her or look at her because he saw his bio mom in her. He truly wished that his bio mom had stood up for herself and not fallen to addiction. 

He was close to Mr. Curtis as well. Not as close but he still trusted him. Mr. Curtis was also a big fan of movies and everything, especially James Dean. So sometimes they would sit on the porch and ramble a bit about him and his movies.

He sort of scared Pony and also just had some dislike for him. He would be rude to him or just flat out ignore him. Usually the gang would get onto him for it but the main reason was that he would be reminded of his own younger siblings. The ones he left behind and now didn’t even know if they were alive. One of his sisters was the exact same age as Pony as well. So Pony grew up believing Dally really was just this delinquent who hated little kids and showed little care. Which was somewhat true…

He was influenced by Shephard’s gang and other more “hood-like” greasers and though the gang didn’t like it, definitely returned to his illegal pastimes. 

[pagannatural]

2.14 Born Under a Bad Sign

-Meg possesses Sam which forces the brothers’ dynamic to develop. Dean really reclaims a sense of himself this episode after spending all season in various degrees and types of turmoil over what to do about Sam. I don’t think he ever really considered killing Sam, but he agonized over his role and what he should do. He lied to a drunk Sam in Playthings and said he would kill him.

- Dean has called Ellen multiple times about Sam going missing, so much so that Dean doesn’t even refer to him by name on the phone, he just calls asking Where is he. Dean says “I’m losing my mind here.” He’s desperate to find Sam. I wonder if Dean ever lost Sam when he was a baby, like at the store or something.

- Dean also says it’s like when John went missing all over again. Dean sought out Sam for help and comfort when that happened. It’s a little kernel of insight into Dean’s state of mind when he broke into Sam’s house in s1, he was probably a lot more afraid than he let on to Sam because he was trying to keep it together.

-when he gets to the motel room Dean kneels in front of Sam, who’s sitting on the bed. He’s off to the side rather than right in between Sam’s legs but when he zeroes in on the blood on Sam’s shirt, on his lower stomach, he starts moving aside Sam’s jacket and touching the bloody fabric. It looks very intimate. Dean reaches directly into Sam’s personal space and even moves his clothes aside to check for injury.

This quick shot of his fingers feeling Sam’s stomach is particularly intimate. Meg!Sam says that he doesn’t think it’s his blood. Dean certainly thought it was Sam’s blood, he wouldn’t have been considering other options at that moment. So Dean is touching Sam’s wound on his lower belly, as far as he and the viewer know. It’s a sexual and feminine image. Although he’s not actually injured, Sam’s body has been invaded and controlled by a demon. It’s a sexual assault parallel, a first taste of Sam’s fall from grace. Throughout the episode, Dean fights for him and refuses to harm him. As long as Sam is still in there somewhere, Dean will protect him.

-Meg is inside of Sam’s brain and body and she has a pretty good understanding of Sam. She’s acting the way she thinks he would and also in whatever way plays to her advantage with Dean, so she has a primary interest in the nature of their relationship. She knows about Dean’s promise to John and to Sam about killing him, so she must have some access to his memories. She plays up Sam’s pleading eyes more than anything, which means she knows Sam’s memories that this has worked on Dean in the past.

- Dean reacts with deep skepticism to the gas station clerk telling him that Sam was drinking, smoking, and behaving violently.

Dean has also picked up on a couple of other specifics that aren’t like Sam: the name he gave at the motel is the name of a Bon Jovi band member, which Dean doesn’t think Sam likes and isn’t one of the names they would recognize for each other; and if Sam did smoke, Dean seems convinced he wouldn’t smoke menthols. He knows Sam so well.

- Dean says that smoking and throwing bottles at people sounds “more like me than you” which tells us that Dean is sometimes an angry drunk and sometimes a smoker, both of which make perfect sense for his character. There’s a lot we don’t directly see on the show.

-Sam moves differently, seems more feminine, and when Dean continues to insist he might not be a murderer he looks annoyed and almost rolls his eyes. Jared Padalecki is so good at being Sam possessed by Meg.

-Meg is basically begging Dean to feel horror that Sam killed someone- a hunter! with a family! caught on camera!- but Dean is like Ah fuck okay I’ll just run through the crime scene cleanup checklist quick and then we can take a nap together at home before we go okay babe? Babe u okay?

- Meg!Sam asks Dean to kill him, kinda using the puppy dog eyes but not quite selling it because it’s not needy enough, and Dean says “I’ve tried so hard to keep you safe…I can’t. I’d rather die.”

This is Dean admitting outright that his promise was bullshit and that he will either save Sam or die trying, and he’s faced so many trials to be completely sure and ready to say it. It doesn’t matter what Sam does. Dean had to understand more consciously his feelings for Sam before he could commit to this because it’s a fundamental part of who he is and his love for Sam. He feels guilty about his love, but he can’t doubt the strength of it and I think this is where he first accepts his role as Sam’s savior. The way he looks at Sam here is with such open love and desire. He’s like Wesley looking at Buttercup.

-Dean calls the phone company to get Sam’s location by pretending Sam is his son. He says “my son” and calls him Sammy and fuck if it isn’t the cutest. Dean is Sam’s dad now. Succession.

-Meg!Sam is so irritated that Jo is carrying a torch for Dean. She seems to be using Sam’s real memories and feelings to get what she wants, and in this case I think Sam is probably annoyed by Jo’s crush and wishes she understood she doesn’t have a chance with Dean, so Meg is using her weaknesses. She really enjoys using Sam’s characteristics and twisting them. For example, after tying Jo up she uses the puppy dog face again and says “c’mon it’s me, you can tell me anything” which echos Sam’s role as sympathetic ear to the victims and other characters. So when she talks about Jo wanting Dean and Dean not wanting Jo and then attacks her in a very sexually charged way, it feels like she’s playing with both their desire for Dean and Sam’s desire to be more like him. She seems to be telling the truth in these scenes, just truths that Jo wouldn’t want to know. So telling her You want him but he doesn’t want you and aren’t I the next best, when Sam in reality does not want Jo, makes Jo into a proxy to act out unrequited love for (and from) Dean.

-Meg!Sam shoots Dean and he falls into the water from the dock and Jo finds him soaked and bleeding and you have three guesses as to the first words out of his mouth (“where’s Sam?”).

-Bobby asks where Dean is so Meg!Sam tells him Dean’s with a girl somewhere. Bobby asks if she’s pretty and Meg’s eyes go black and she says “if you ask me he’s in way over his head.” The visual cue and emphasis make it clear Meg is talking as herself here, not as Sam, and it seems like she’s talking about Dean’s situation with Sam. It’s also a pun because she thinks he’s underwater, but regardless she’s connecting Dean being with some girl and Dean being in trouble because of Sam.

-she also smirks at Dean pretty wickedly and tells him “you wouldn’t wanna bruise this fine packaging” ie Sam’s body that she knows Dean thinks is mighty fine. What I wouldn’t give for her to taunt him more in this way.

- she tells Dean he’s worthless, he can’t save Sam, and the people he loves would be better off without him. Which means his worst beliefs about himself (as far as Sam knows) are that he isn’t good enough and that he’s actually bad for Sam. Why? Why would Sam know that Dean fears he would be better off without him? He’s protected and cared for Sam his whole life, both Sam and John have explicitly told him that they’re grateful, and even Dean can’t blame himself for the way he and Sam grew up. It’s possible this is about the fact that Sam is in danger hunting with Dean, but he would’ve been in danger in law school too. It fits better with Dean’s guilt over his feelings for Sam and his knowledge that Sam is in love with him. Sam knows that Dean blames himself.

-Dean refuses to hurt Sam when Meg!Sam is punching him, and she punches him four or five times. Then when Sam is back unpossessed, Dean punches him in the face. When it was about saving Sam Dean refused to hurt him, but now that Sam is safe it’s like his anger at Sam comes pouring out. He needed some form of resolution for the fact that his little brother scared the shit out of him for a week straight going missing, murdered someone and didn’t even help clean up the crime scene, pistol whipped him, shot him in the shoulder, punched him, named his worst fears, threatened to bite his own tongue off, and pressed his finger into his wound and laughed. Obviously Sam did none of those things and it was all Meg, but I think it’s completely understandable that Dean reacted this way after not only keeping his shit together for Sam all that time but also actively protecting him. It’s a reasonable trauma response for him to have fought back. I’m not saying it’s ethical or anything just that it’s exactly what Dean would do and it gives his episode arc some catharsis.

-for his part, Sam isn’t upset with Dean for punching him. He never is. As evidenced by Sam’s little smirk when Dean makes joke about Bobby’s charms for keeping the demon from “getting back up in there.”

-Dean checks in with Sam in the sweetest way, gently prompting him to answer if he’s okay. Sam explains that what’s troubling him isn’t the memory of his own hands killing a man, it’s the knowledge that even then Dean wouldn’t kill him. They both know for sure now.

-Dean teases Sam about having a girl inside him and Sam grins. It’s just one of many references to Sam having someone inside him and otherwise sexually being referred to as the girl.

-Dean’s “if it’s the last thing I do I’m gonna save you” hits different when you’re on tumblr and you know the show ends 13 seasons later with Dean dying and Sam living out some kind of a life.

[copperboom82]

Something

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (female)

Word Count: 3.9k

Prompt: "Just please don't say you love me." - Gabrielle Alpin

Title credit: Something by The Beatles

Summary: A late-night conversation forces Katrina and Dean to deal with the things they've left unspoken for years.

AN: Hello! This is my first submission for @jacklesversebingo and my first story for this OC. It's just a one-shot for now, but I have some other ideas for this pairing, so we'll see. I think this falls into angst/fluff territory

Warnings: Mild cursing, mentions of alcohol. Please let me know if I missed something - I don't think I did, but I'm also very new to posting my writing.

****************************

Katrina Black had never been a good sleeper.

She’d never considered herself to be a true insomniac… but it was close. Falling asleep, regardless of how tired she may or may not be, was always an ordeal. Whether it was normal life stress, adrenaline from a hunt, a combination of the two, it didn’t matter: turning her brain off was, without fail, a herculean task. Then staying asleep? Forget it. Growing up the way she had, the instinct to keep one eye and ear open at all times was impossible to shut down. Every noise seemed to register and set her on edge, big and small, and God forbid there be any light. That was the fastest way to jolt her out of a dead sleep. 

It had been that way as long as Katrina could remember, and by now, in her early thirties, she was quite used to it. Instead of dreading the nighttime, she’d even come to appreciate the solace of it. It was quiet when the rest of the world was sleeping, and peaceful in a way that was hard to recreate in other circumstances.

What she wasn’t used to was having company. But as of late, company was what she had.

“Can’t sleep again, huh,” she remarked quietly as she slipped out onto the back porch, two steaming mugs carefully cradled in her hands as she gently shut the door with her foot. Dean’s head swiveled in her direction, his green eyes finding her in the low lighting, a tired smile making its way onto his face… a humorless chuckle slipping past his lips.

“Not so much.” 

In the weeks since Dean had gotten back from Purgatory, there’d hardly been a night that Katrina hadn’t run into the elder Winchester brother in the hours she’d gotten so used to spending on her own. He’d even gone so far as to co-opt her spot – not that she suspected he realized that when he’d started coming out here.

Katrina wordlessly settled into the porch swing next to him, shivering against the chilling air and passing one of the mugs to Dean. He accepted it, but looked between her and the mug, his expression growing skeptical when he realized what it was.

“Hot chocolate, Kat? Really? I’m not five.” 

Kat.

That stupid nickname made butterflies swarm her stomach like she was a damn teenager again. No one else called her Kat, only Dean. To everyone else she was Trina, or Katrina. It had started as his way to annoy her, in those early days when Bobby had introduced them, and they hadn’t been able to go ten minutes without bickering about something. Then somewhere along the lines when neither of them had been paying attention they’d become friends, and he didn’t try to annoy her anymore, but the nickname had stuck.

And her fondness for the moniker had grown with the idiot hunter that used it. 

“I know,” she scoffed, a wry smile forming on her own face as she went to take a sip from the mug still in her hands. “That’s why I put vodka in it. And maybe some Bailey’s.” 

His skepticism turned to amusement, and Katrina watched from the corner of her eye as he made a face that said what the hell before following her example and drinking. 

“Not bad,” he admitted as he lowered the mug. 

“You should know better than to doubt me by now, Winchester,” she quipped, and Dean rolled his eyes, though they both knew he was only being dramatic.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever you say, Black,” he griped back, though the fondness in his voice was unmistakable. Silence fell over them as they both settled further into the swing, and Katrina took another sip of the hot chocolate, savoring the warmth that spread through her body as she swallowed it down. 

It should have been comfortable, and in many ways it was. She’d known the Winchesters for years now – hunting with them often, researching for them when she couldn’t, housing them when they weren’t off doing their own thing… the three of them, barring Dean’s year in Purgatory, had been practically inseparable since the Leviathans had burned Bobby’s house down. Sam and Dean were her closest friends. Her family. 

But with Dean, it was never comfortable. She was too stupidly hyperaware of his presence for anything involving being around that man to be comfortable. The heat of his body, the way the smell of gunpowder and leather always seemed to cling to him, the aggravating truth in that his solid presence made her feel safe in a way nothing else did. 

No, being around Dean never failed to put her on high alert. And he was a goddamn distraction to boot. No matter how much Katrina tried to keep her mind on the night sky and quiet her thoughts so she could make another attempt at sleep, her eyes kept darting to her left. She didn’t often see Dean out of his normal jeans and flannel combo, except for these late-night stargazing sessions. Tonight he was clad in a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt that should have been illegal for the way it showed off his arms and the broad lines of his shoulders. His green eyes gleamed in the moonlight, hair adorably mused from whatever futile attempt he had made at sleep, and the stubble littering his face made her mouth water in a completely inappropriate way.

Inappropriate because Dean was her best friend, and best friends didn’t have the kind of thoughts about each other that she was having right now. Thoughts that the year apart had apparently done nothing to quell. Which shouldn’t have been surprising. It had done nothing to dampen her not-so-friend-like feelings for him either. 

To say nothing of the fact that with the kind of lives they led, there was no room for that sort of thing. She didn’t believe that loving a Winchester was the death sentence that Sam and Dean had both, at times, claimed it to be. But she knew enough to know that loving a hunter was always a risk, always invited complication… and all of their lives were complicated enough.

“How’s that shoulder doin’?” he asked after a few minutes, breaking the silence and completely oblivious to the turmoil in Katrina’s head or the fire his gravelly voice, rough from lack of sleep, lit inside her.

“It’s fine,” she dismissed, unconsciously rolling the shoulder in question. Earlier in the day, the two of them and Sam had taken care of a vengeful spirit an hour or two south of her house. It had been a simple enough salt-and-burn, but the thing had lashed out like a cornered animal in the last few minutes they were digging, doing what it could to stop them from reaching their goal. In the mele, Katrina had gotten flung at one point and crashed into a nearby headstone hard. She’d been mostly fine, but of course, Dean had immediately clocked the way she was suddenly favoring her left side. 

And now, hours later, he seemed as equally unconvinced of her dismissal as he’d been then if the way he was studying her was anything to go off of. His brow furrowed in concentration, and the intensity in his gaze left Katrina trying not to squirm. 

“Really, Dean, it was –“

But for all the good her words did her she may as well have saved her breath. Dean, it seemed, wasn’t even listening. He was too busy setting his half-drunk mug of hot chocolate on the little table next to him and then reaching out for her. His touch was gentle but firm as he maneuvered her to lean forward so he could run his hand over the tender area. Katrina willed her breathing to stay steady, even as her heart felt like it was beating a mile a minute.

“Well nothing’s swollen,” he murmured, the concern still evident in his voice. Katrina rolled her eyes and arched an eyebrow at him.

“Yeah, because I’m fine.” 

Dean paused in his movements and caught her eye, sending her a look that was both exasperated and affectionate.

“And stubborn,” he pointed out. Katrina snorted.

“Pot, meet kettle.” 

Dean sighed but let her go. 

“Yeah, yeah,” he dismissed, eyes still glued to her form. They both stayed there, frozen in place for a moment, until he frowned. “You look cold.” 

She was perhaps a little cold, but Katrina suspected what Dean was actually noticing was the tension that came from the nerves being in such close proximity to him created. She shook her head.

“I’m fine.”

This time Dean rolled his eyes, and before she could do anything, he was wrapping an arm around her shoulder and pulling her against him, enveloping her in his warmth.

“Yeah, yeah,” he repeated, “I know. You’re always fine. C’mon, Kat. It’s not a big deal.”

It was a big deal, if the heat rising in her cheeks was any indicator. But Dean couldn’t know that.

“My hero,” she muttered, injecting as much sarcasm into her voice as she could manage, and Dean chuckled, the sound rumbling through his chest.

“At least I’m someone’s,” he scoffed, that self-deprecating tone of his bringing a frown to Katrina’s face.

“Don’t do that,” she chastised, and Dean snorted.

“Do what? Be honest?” 

“Put yourself down like that,” she corrected firmly and Dean sighed. Despite herself, she found her body relaxing into his more fully.

“You weren’t there, Kat. I’m no hero.” 

She didn’t need to ask to know he was thinking of Purgatory. He’d been tight-lipped about the details, but whatever happened had left him rattled. 

“You wanna talk about it?” she ventured softly. Dean stiffened for a moment, but then relaxed back into her as he exhaled, shaking his head as he did.

“No.”

It was the answer she expected, and Katrina nodded against his chest. 

“You know I’m here though? If you do?” 

There was no pause that time. Dean nodded.

“I know.” 

And then he dropped a kiss to the top of her head that had her stomach doing somersaults as if it were the most natural in the world for him to do. 

The silence settled over them again, and Katrina tried not to hyper fixate. Dean’s fingers started tracing circles on her arm, sending pleasant shivers down her spine, and the sounds of the night washed over them – crickets, she thought, somewhere in the distance, and the occasional howl of an animal. 

Eventually, against all odds, it was the steady thrum of Dean’s heartbeat that started to lull Katrina back into a state of… not sleep, but rest, she supposed. Her senses dulling and her consciousness allowing her to enjoy the peace of the moment. But it was just that – a moment – and before long Dean was speaking again, his words breaking it apart and filling her chest with a strange mix of hope and fear.

“I missed you, you know. While I was… gone. I, uh… it’s nice. Having you around again.” 

He doesn’t mean what you want him to mean, the voice in her head hissed at her. Friends miss each other. Don’t make more out of it than what it is.

But somewhere, Katrina knew it was more than that. Dean didn’t just say shit like that. Still, letting herself ruminate on it too much was risky.

“I missed you too,” she admitted. There was a beat of silence, and then the words were slipping out before she could stop them – quiet, but impossible to miss in the stillness of their surroundings. “I was afraid I’d never see you again.” 

She caught herself as much as Dean by surprise, so much so that she hardly noticed when he moved, shifting them so that, while his arm was still around her, she was no longer leaning into him, and they were instead facing each other. His eyes were wide, betraying how much she’d caught him off guard with the admission, and Katrina felt as though she were being x-rayed the way he was searching her face. She found herself unwittingly holding her breath, waiting for the inevitable fallout, or worse, the teasing. 

But instead, his features softened, and a small smile formed on his face. The kind he seemed to reserve only for her.

“C’mon, Kat,” he murmured, his free hand coming up to brush some stray hair out of her face. But instead of dropping back to his own lap, it stayed, cradling her face. “I always find my way back to you, don’t I?”

In what seemed to be a single breath, the air between them turned charged. On their face, the words themselves were innocent. The way he was looking at her, however, was anything but, and his tone carried a weight with it that the words alone didn’t. 

They’d been here before. In this space of almost and on the verge… but one of them always pulled back. Katrina wasn’t totally sure of Dean’s reasons, though she had a list she could guess at. Her own were complicated and multi-faceted. Chief among them was a strong disbelief that whatever Dean did feel for her couldn’t possibly mirror the feelings she’d been harboring for him. And if it were only her own heart she was risking? It might not have worried her so much – she could deal with pain. But the idea of opening herself up, giving things a shot and having them crash and burn… she knew what would come next, and the idea of having to cut ties with him and Sam was unfathomable. Aside from her younger sister, they were the only real family she had left. And Jenna, as wonderful as she was, didn’t understand the life Katrina led. It had been one of the many things Katrina had worked so hard to shield her from. 

This time, however, neither of them seemed ready to heed that invisible line. Katrina noticed the way Dean’s eyes flickered down to her lips, and she unconsciously wet them while her own heart beat impossibly faster. At first, neither of them moved. And then all at once Dean leaned down and captured her lips with his in a kiss that nearly made her heart stop.

Despite the fact that it was something she’d wanted for years, it took her brain a few seconds to catch up with the reality of what was happening, and Katrina found herself frozen. But then, just as Dean seemed to be thinking he’d made a mistake, beginning to pull back, she jolted back to life. All of her normal reservations about why this was such a bad idea flew out the window, forgotten in the heat of the moment, and she kissed him back with fervor. 

Her own mug of hot chocolate was quickly deposited next to her on the bench, her hands eagerly seeking out Dean instead. The arm he’d had around her shoulders dropped lower, securing itself around her waist and pulling her closer. Hi tongue dipped past the seam of her lips, tasting and learning her all at once and letting her do the same, while her fingers found purchase on the short hairs at the nape of his neck.

Katrina wasn’t sure how long they kissed – it could have been seconds or it could have been minutes – but by the time they broke apart they were both slightly breathless. They stayed close, Dean pressing one last soft, chaste kiss to her lips before resting his forehead against hers, while Katrina sat there, her head spinning. For awhile it was still just the two of them that she was aware of – Dean’s warm breath against her skin, every point of contact, her own heartbeat so loud she could feel it in her ears, the taste of him still lingering… the spiked drink she’d made them mixed with something uniquely Dean she couldn’t quite put her finger on.

But then reality slowly began to intrude as the rest of her senses returned to her. All the reasons she normally held herself back started screaming at her, and the panic began to set in.

“What was that?” she asked carefully, taking care to keep her voice steady. Dean, still cradling her face in his hand, smirked slightly.

“A kiss, Kat. I believe you’re familiar with the concept based on what I’ve seen from you before.”

It was such a Dean thing to say. And under other circumstances she might have laughed, or come up with her own quip back, but she was still having trouble with rational thought. 

“We don’t kiss,” she pointed out. Dean shrugged, his thumb swiping over her cheek.

“Yeah, well maybe we should change that.” 

Before she could think of anything remotely reasonable to say, he was kissing her again. And for just a moment, Katrina let herself get swept up in him once more. But this time when he went to deepen it, Katrina pulled back, the panic overwhelming the more pleasant sensations Dean had sparked.

“Dean, I –“ she started, her voice catching in her throat, embarrassingly choked by emotion.

“What? What’s wrong?” he asked, the teasing tone from before switching to one of genuine concern, and Katrina swallowed hard, willing herself to get her shit under control. This wasn’t her, she didn’t get emotional over guys, or anything, really… but then, Dean had always had a way of making her break even her own rules.

“I can’t do this,” she managed to get out, ignoring the confusion mixing with the concern in his expression. “It’s a bad idea. I can’t… I can’t just be a way for you to blow off steam. That’s not gonna work for me, and…” she trailed off, only dimly registering the look of abject horror on Dean’s face.

“Kat,” he said slowly, his voice gentle but tinged clearly with pain. “Is that really what you think is goin’ on here? That I’m just trying to blow off steam?” 

Katrina closed her eyes, focusing on taking a breath. Somewhere in the back of her mind she half wished that when she opened them again it all would have been some sort of fever dream. But, of course, it wasn’t, and when she opened them again Dean was there waiting.

“Isn’t it?”

His face fell and he pulled back, his frown deepening while Katrina found herself already missing the proximity.

“Hell no. Look, I know I’m not Mr. Touchy Feely here, but I really thought we were on the same page about this.” 

This was dangerous territory. Territory that Katrina both wanted to and dreaded entering. 

Because Dean was… not right, but not wrong either. There was something between them, something more than friendship, evident alone from how different their relationship was from the one she had with Sam if nothing else. But whatever that something more was, Katrina couldn’t be foolish enough to let herself believe that Dean felt the same way about her. She loved him, she knew that. And sure maybe his feelings weren’t strictly platonic… but he didn’t love her. Not like that. 

And if even if he did? Dean Winchester didn’t do relationships. She’d been there for the aftermath of Lisa and Ben… watched him struggle through the wreckage… and she knew better than anyone that he’d sworn off the idea of ever letting himself get involved like that again. 

“I don’t know what to say,” she mumbled, and Dean looked at her in slight disbelief.

“You can say whether I’m wrong or not.”

Katrina opened her mouth to do just that, but the words wouldn’t come. She tried a second and a third time too, and after that last attempt a smug expression worked its way onto Dean’s face, some of the tension easing from his body.

“So I’m not wrong,” he theorized. “You want to be with me too.” 

“Except you don’t do relationships,” Katrina pointed out quickly, “and I’m not looking to get my heart broken.” 

Dean softened, the corners of his lips tugging down again, and Katrina could practically see the gears turning in his head.

“Why don’t you let me worry about what I do and do not do?”

“Are you actually suggesting what I think you are right now?” 

“Depends,” Dean asked, some of that devil-may-care attitude of his making an appearance again. “What do you think I’m suggesting?” 

Katrina wasn’t having any of it, though. Mind still reeling, she huffed and moved further back from him, turning to grab for her mug.

“I swear,” she started to complain without really knowing where she was going with it. “God forbid you be serious for just one –“ 

Dean’s hand shot out almost immediately, cutting her off mid-sentence as he pulled her right back where she’d been, his arm coming around her even more securely than before. He kissed her again, this time slow and purposefully, breaking away while her brain was still going fuzzy.

“I am being serious, Kat,” he said. “Look, I get it, you’re scared, and people in our line of work don’t get happy endings. But c’mon. It’s been here, whatever this thing is between us, for too long, and I’m tired of pretending it isn’t. You said you were afraid you weren’t gonna see me again? Hell, I was too. And I was more afraid that I’d never get a chance to figure this out. I want to be with you, and not just for a night or for while it feels good. This is what I want…  I’m ready to fight for it.”

“Dean –“ she began, but he cut her off, shaking his head.

“And, say what you want, but as long as you’ve known me, I’ve never given you a reason not to trust me. So if I’m telling you how I feel, you should know I mean it.” 

By the time he was done speaking, Katrina’s eyes were uncharacteristically watery, and she quickly blinked back the tears, refusing to let them spill over. Dean noticed anyway, and frowned, cradling her face once more and smoothing his thumb over her cheek.

“What are you thinking, Kat?” he prompted gently, and she let out something that was somewhere between a cry and a laugh.

“I’m thinking this is insane,” she admitted, which pulled a crooked smile from Dean and her own watery chuckle.

“Yeah, maybe a little,” he allowed. “But that doesn’t make it any less real.” She let out a puff of air, and he sighed. “C’mon, Kat. I lo –“

“No,” she cut across him firmly, and Dean blinked back in surprise.

“No? No what?”

Katrina bit her lip, her emotions threatening to overwhelm her again, and she looked down at her lap, unable to meet his eye.

“Just please don’t say you love me.” 

Her words hung there between them, until Dean tilted her chin up, forcing her to look back at him. It was impossible to miss the earnest expression on his face.

“But what if I do?” he asked. Brain short circuiting, Kat blinked back stupidly.

“Then you’re crazier than I am,” she finally said, and at her words a genuine smile cracked Dean’s face, his laughter sounding almost inappropriately loud after their conversation colored by whispers and murmurs. It didn’t last long though, and before Katrina could make sense of any of it, Dean was dipping his head again, pressing a short, sweet kiss to her lips and returning his forehead to its previous resting place against hers.

“Sweetheart,” he began, managing to maintain his sincerity despite the laughter still underlying his voice, “I’ve always been crazier than you.”

[no-where-new-hero]

Chapter 31: Emily's Great Moment

I cannot believe we made it to the end of the book club! Thanks a million to @batrachised for hosting, @the-piper-and-the-lion for the memes, @bewareofitalics and @moonlightredfern for reblogging and sharing all the posts, and everyone who participated for offering metas and reactions and enriching the fandom of this oft-overlooked book! I enjoyed it quite a bit :)

This chapter's thoughts, feat. some spoilers, below:

I ONLY noticed this time around that Dean's habit of accompanying Emily through near-death convalescence is established from here, yet its outcome is totally contrasted to its outcome in Emily's Quest. Here, he leaves her to Teddy. There...

LMM is also very fond of these kind of...loaded benedictions following Emily's interactions with her prominent male mentor figures, each of which underscore this inevitability that Emily will have to give something up to have the life she wants. It started with Douglas and his "she will love deeply, suffer terribly, and have glorious moments to compensate." The sacrificial element isn't here, but still that notion of balance, of something being taken away for her glorious moments. Then Dean's "one pays a penalty when one reaches out for something beyond the ordinary." This is the reverse, overtly sacrificial, applicable to a number of areas in her life: her ambition, her desires, her freedom. It also comes up in his mentioning of paying the piper the price for an exciting life. He may have his ulterior motives for the insistence with which he talks about it, but it becomes part of a theme. And finally Mr. Carpenter talking about the gods and their debts and that Emily will need to pay, which is basically what Dean was saying (but no one ever faults Mr. Carpenter for his dire outlook, it seems).

This all feels very much like LMM's own attitude to her writing seeping through; later on in the series, Emily talks about her muse as a jealous goddess in a way that sounds lifted from Maud's own journals, and the theme of Emily as an inveterate journal-keeper is also established here. But it also makes a strong stance on this idea of being a woman and being a writer: it demands sacrifice, almost deprivation. We've seen it already in Emily burning her account book. I wonder if this is partly why people are skeptical that Emily continues writing after she marries Teddy; Maud has so thoroughly insisted that Emily cannot have her cake and eat it too. I personally don't agree with this conclusion, in my opinion Teddy is the only way that Emily doesn't have to sacrifice, because he's partially her muse and inspiration himself; but the fact stands that Emily is portrayed so often as having writing and nothing else that it's hard to imagine her being able to avoid these debts that everyone has been piling on her throughout this novel.

Final note is that, in the physical copy of the book I own, the final line--in complete and utter bathos--has a misprint of "diary" as "dairy," which has always annoyed me to no end.

[starlightsuffered]

Me and You (p 1)

Info - pushy friend, unrequited feelings, comfort from a stranger, fake dating

“I said no at least twelve times,” I said with an edge to my voice.

“Come on, you’ll like it. I promise I’ll show you a good time,” Dean said with a smirk.

“I-“

“Come on y/n,” Jeanie said with an oddly predatory smile. “You’re not seeing anyone else. You could give him a chance.”

“I did, when you set us up. Do you remember how awful that went Dean?” I asked through gritted teeth. I kept the smile on my face but let some of my hostility seep through. If I were a better, more confident, I’d do more than passive aggressive comments.

“Y/n you really should-“

“Sorry I am late darling,” said a random voice. A man came up to me and easily slid his hand around my waist.

He was absolutely gorgeous. He was tall, with dark curls, and electric green eyes. He was very thin. I didn’t know why he came to my rescue. Did he want something?

“What’s going on?” Dean asked with dark eyes.

“This is my boyfriend,” I explained, taking the opportunity.

“Timothée,” he said immediately and stuck out his hand for a handshake.

“So YOU are y/n’s plus one to Cynthia’s wedding?” Dean asked skeptically.

“Yes… indeed,” the stranger did pause but didn’t break.

“How long have you been dating. Y/n never told us about you,” Jeanie asked. She slammed down her plastic cup on the table beside her. Her eyebrows were furrowed.

“Not long,” Timothée admitted, but then he gave me such a sweet look that I couldn’t have melted.

“Well, she likes to be a little cagey about our relationship, don’t you Mon amour,” Timothée asked teasingly. I was surprised by the French. It took my breath away honestly.

“I’m gonna get another drink,” Dean grumbled. He looked back several times, sending glares my way. Jeanie excused herself too. I wasn’t quite sure why she kept suggestions Dean to me. It was seriously draining.

“Thanks for that,” I sighed to the man.

“No problem,” he offered.

“You do this a lot?”

“Save damsels in distress? All the time I’m a valiant knight don’t you know,” he said this and winked at me.

“Oh please,” I rolled my eyes. I began to walk out. My heels clicked on the floor. I felt a gentle and soft hand grab my arm.

“Can I know your name?” Timothée asked.

I scribbled on a napkin. I added my name and number. I just needed to get out of here. I offered the piece to him. He took it warily.

“I never had someone do that for me, thank you, Timothée,” I smiled. I left them and didn’t answer Dean and Jeanie’s weird calls.

T POV

I had been enchanted by that girl the other night. I knew I’d come off as confident but I wanted her. She’s bewitched me in a way.

It was on the fifth day that I got the text.

“You know how I said my friends are crazy? Ellen, the girl who is getting married, texted me so happy that I sound a man. Want to come to a wedding?”

@pmak2002 @softhecreator @plutoispurplw @sp1deyyf4ngz @seungcheol17daddy @jesschalamet @vvsdreaming

[randomperson99sworld]

Hope

~ Chapter 3 ~

Summary: Dean and Sam Winchester save a young woman —Natalie Johnson, from a coven of witches who are after her deceased grandmothers spell book. At first Dean doesn’t trust her, will he ever? Natalie is just simply a woman who gets roped up in the supernatural world from a mistake her grandmother made.

Pairing: Dean x OC

Warning: Age gap, slow burn, smut (in later chapters), language, gore.

Word Count:1,732

A/N: What do we think of Natalie so far? Happy reading! ♥️

A week passed and she had convinced Dean to take her to her apartment to grab some of her belongings. She'd been cooped up in the bunker for weeks, tired of wearing Sam's oversized clothes and desperately missing her own essentials.

"Dean, seriously, I just need to go get some of my stuff," Natalie had said, standing in front of him with her arms crossed. "I've been wearing Sam's clothes for weeks. I need my own things—clothes, shoes, my laptop, all of it."

Dean was leaning against the Impala, shaking his head. "And you want me to take you back to your apartment, with that witch still out there? That's a terrible idea, Nat."

"I'll be quick," Natalie insisted. "In and out. I just... I need some semblance of normalcy, you know? And I'm driving myself back."

Dean had shot her a skeptical look. "Not a chance. You don't know where that witch is hiding. For all we know, she could be watching your place."

But Natalie had been determined. "I'll be fine. You'll be right behind me, and I'll pack light. Just enough to hold me over until it's safe to go back."

Reluctantly, Dean had agreed, but he'd made it clear that he wasn't happy about it. The entire time they were at her apartment, he had been on high alert, eyes scanning the street and the surrounding buildings, looking for any sign of trouble.

Natalie had quickly packed a few clothes, some shoes, and the essentials she couldn't live without. The process didn't take long, and soon she had loaded up her car, ready to drive back to the bunker.

Dean had insisted on following her the whole way, staying close behind her car as she drove. Even though she'd gotten what she needed, she could see the tension in his posture, the way he gripped the wheel of the Impala when they finally made it back to the bunker safely.

Dean Winchester had always been an ass—he knew it, and he owned it. But sometimes, when Natalie was working tirelessly at her laptop, helping with research or hacking into some obscure database, he couldn't help but be reminded of someone else: Charlie.

The memory of Charlie Bradbury still stung, even after all these years. Her death had taken a toll on both brothers, a wound that never quite healed. She had been more than just a friend; she'd been family. And now, every time Natalie threw out some snarky remark or effortlessly hacked her way into classified files, Dean saw a flicker of Charlie's vibrant spirit. He didn't say it aloud—he never would—but it gnawed at him. She reminds him of Charlie.

Still, that didn't mean he'd stop being a pain in her ass. It was his default mode.

But Natalie? She didn't seem to mind much. After weeks in the bunker, she'd grown used to Dean's gruffness, his eye rolls, and his constant muttering about "geeks." She could tell, though, that underneath the rough exterior, Dean was a good guy—a man who had been through too much, but who would go to hell and back (literally) for the people he cared about.

And if she could help make their lives a little easier? Well, that was fine with her.

Later that day, Natalie was deep into her second cup of coffee when Sam walked into the war room, a tablet in hand and a look of grim determination on his face.

"So," he began, sitting across from Natalie. "We've got a new case."

Dean wandered in, wiping grease from his hands after another morning working on the Impala. "Great. What's killing people now?"

Sam pulled up the details on his tablet and turned it toward Natalie and Dean. "An artifact. It just got delivered to the Museum of Natural History in Kansas City. It's from an ancient tribe that scientists dug up years ago, but here's the thing—wherever this artifact goes, people die."

Natalie squinted at the screen, scanning the information. "What kind of artifact are we talking about?"

"A ceremonial mask," Sam explained, scrolling through the images. "Belongs to a tribe that was believed to practice dark magic. When scientists uncovered the burial site, they took the artifacts, including this mask. Since then, it's been passed around to different collectors and museums. And every time, there's a string of mysterious deaths. Accidents, murders, unexplained illnesses. Now it's in Kansas City."

Dean shook his head. "People never learn, do they? Just leave the creepy cursed crap in the ground where it belongs."

"Yeah, well, now it's our problem," Sam said, glancing at Natalie. "We'll need all hands on deck. You stay back and help us with remote access again. We'll need you to monitor the museum's security systems and keep an eye on any digital chatter about the artifact."

Natalie nodded, already mentally preparing for another long night in front of her laptop. "Got it. If that thing is causing death wherever it goes, I'll be able to track anything weird in the surrounding areas, too. People post about strange stuff online all the time."

Dean folded his arms, leaning against the table. "So, what? We're gonna waltz in, grab the cursed mask, and torch it?"

"That's the plan," Sam said, though his tone suggested it wouldn't be that easy. "But we'll need to be careful. This thing's been killing people for centuries. We don't know what kind of power it holds."

Dean huffed. "When do we ever?"

As the brothers headed to the museum, Natalie stayed back in the bunker, once again manning her setup of multiple screens and monitoring systems. She had hacked into the museum's security system within minutes, her fingers flying over the keyboard as she bypassed firewalls with ease. Cameras, floor plans, and employee schedules popped up on her screens, giving her full access to everything she needed to help the brothers navigate the place.

"Okay, you're in," Natalie's voice crackled through the comms. "I've got access to all the cameras. The artifact is in the east wing, in a restricted section of the museum. I'll guide you through."

Dean's voice came through the earpiece, tinged with his usual sarcasm. "Yeah, yeah. Just make sure we don't trip any alarms, geek."

Natalie smirked, rolling her eyes as she leaned back in her chair. "I got you covered. Just try not to touch anything else in there that could be cursed."

Sam and Dean moved cautiously through the dimly lit corridors of the museum, with Natalie's voice guiding them as they approached the east wing. The museum was closed for the night, but they knew security would still be tight.

"Alright, there's a guard making his rounds near the entrance to the east wing," Natalie said through the comms. "You've got about 30 seconds to get past him while he's turning the corner."

Dean, crouching behind a display case, whispered, "We're moving. Don't let him spot us, Nat."

The brothers slipped past the guard just as Natalie had predicted, and soon they were standing in front of the glass display case that housed the mask. The artifact itself was eerie—carved from dark wood, with hollow eye sockets that seemed to watch them as they approached.

Dean grimaced. "That thing's definitely bad news."

Sam reached for his lockpick set, but before he could get to work, Natalie's voice came through again. "Guys, I'm getting some weird readings. Heat signatures... but not human. Something's moving toward you, fast."

Dean glanced around, his hand moving instinctively to his gun. "Great. What now?"

Suddenly, the room grew cold, and shadows seemed to shift unnaturally around them. The mask's hollow eyes began to glow faintly, a sickly green light emanating from within.

"Get the mask and move," Natalie urged through the earpiece, her voice tense. "Something's wrong. It's reacting to you being there."

Sam quickly picked the lock on the display case, his fingers moving swiftly. He grabbed the mask, wrapping it in cloth to prevent any direct contact. As soon as he lifted it, the lights in the museum flickered, and a low, ominous whisper filled the air.

"Dean, we need to go—now!" Sam urged, backing away as the temperature continued to drop.

"On it!" Dean grabbed his machete, watching as dark, humanoid figures materialized from the shadows, their forms twisted and unnatural. "Great. Ghosts and a cursed mask. What a night."

The brothers fought their way through the spectral entities, each swing of Dean's machete dispersing the ghostly figures momentarily. With the mask in hand, they raced back toward the exit, the museum's alarms suddenly blaring.

"Guys, security's been triggered!" Natalie called out, her fingers typing frantically as she tried to disable the alarms remotely. "You've got less than a minute before the guards swarm that wing. Get out of there!"

Dean cursed under his breath as they bolted down the hall. "I knew we should've just burned this place down."

Hours later, after the mask had been safely stashed away for proper disposal, Dean and Sam returned to the bunker, looking exhausted but triumphant. Natalie was still at her laptop, having stayed up to make sure they got out safely.

"Well?" she asked, raising an eyebrow as they trudged into the war room. "How was your haunted museum adventure?"

"Ghosts. Cursed masks. Almost got arrested," Dean muttered, collapsing into a chair. "Same old, same old."

Sam, on the other hand, smiled at her. "You were a big help tonight, Natalie. We couldn't have done it without you."

Natalie grinned, leaning back. "Glad to hear it. Though, if we're being honest, I'd rather not have to hack into another museum's security system anytime soon."

Dean glanced over at her, and for once, his tone wasn't entirely snarky. "You did good tonight, Nat. Real good."

Natalie blinked in surprise. It wasn't exactly a glowing compliment, but coming from Dean, it was practically a rave review.

She smiled faintly. "Thanks, Dean. Maybe you'll start trusting me after all."

Dean just smirked, grabbing a beer from the fridge. "Don't push your luck."

As the night wound down, and the brothers finally let themselves relax for a moment, Natalie realized something important. She might still be a stranger in this world of monsters and magic, but she was becoming part of the team.

And that? That was something she could live with.

[six-costume-refs]

Rip alt costumes:( does this probably mean that we’re gonna get more frequent emergency covers since there aren’t any 2/3 covers anymore?

I'm still skeptical of that, which I spelled out quite a bit more here, but yeah, I actually think that's something they're banking on. There are now quite a number of UK-based former actors between the UK and NCL productions, which gives them quite a lot of depth for covers if needed. Many of them are in London or a fairly short distance away, which makes it relatively easy for them to cover on shorter notice. And now that Covid has calmed down substantially and alts don't have scheduled shows, most absences will be due to injuries or vacations, which are easier to anticipate and plan in advance for. My impression is that part of the plan going forward is to always have a informal shortlist of actors who are able to essentially function as vacation swings for the West End, so not officially/formally on standby at all time but who are willing to be on call if they need some extra coverage for a week or two and can even hop in at the last minute in a true emergency scenario (think Harriet Caplan-Dean).