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bowlegsandbiceps · 4 years ago

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Suptober Day 2: Earth

A Case of Space

Explicit / Destiel / 3,500 words

Read on AO3

Castiel sat in an uncomfortable chair, listening to the head of finance blather on about fuel budget and fought the urge to vomit. He tried to tell himself that the seesawing feeling in his chest was all in his imagination. The floor under his feet was firm and level, and even though they were hurtling through space faster than the speed of light, the equilibrium sensors absorbed any changes in density. He designed the system for god sake. The ship was not rocking back and forth.

His stomach didn’t seem to get the memo. A cold sweat broke out across his upper lip, and there was no way he was going to be able to sit through the rest of this meeting. Not with the inky blackness of space looming oppressively from the wall-length viewing glass on the other side of the table. What idiot decided it was a good idea to include that in a boardroom where important decisions were to be made.

Oh, right, it was him.

Something was wrong. Had to be. Castiel knew the Impala as well as he knew his own body. Lived, breathed, and thought her into existence from as early as secondary school when he’d stare up at the stars with bare feet on solid earth and dream of when he’d be up there one day.

Castiel stood on shaking legs, holding up a hand in apology as he stumbled to the exit and made a bee-line for the maintenance port hidden discretely behind a wall, the only indication it was there a small security pad near the wainscoting. He waved his hand over it, the dot on the inside of his wrist glowing white as the security pad blinked green. His stomach gave another precarious lurch like he’d reached the apex of a roller coaster and his mouth began to fill with saliva, a pulse of anxiety shooting through him when he wondered what it would feel like to start the descent.

He slipped through the opening, trading the artificial daylight of the main hall for the shadowed maintenance corridor, and took the stairwell down until it leveled out, hearing the clink and hum of the Impala’s systems and engines hard at work. He hurried along the suspended walkway, making his way to the heart of the ship, and something about the twilight heat made him breathe easier.

Another wave of his hand at the last security point, and he was able to hurry down the tight circle of stairs to the bottom of the ship, resolutely avoiding the panoramic viewing glass that looked out under the bow. His heart gave a pitiful lurch anyway, the pressure on his throat immense as he sidled up to the main terminal and began doing a system check.

The longer he searched, the faster his heart seemed to beat, finding everything to be in perfect working order. In fact, the levels were better now than they’d ever been in their pre-flight tests. He ran a report on the equilibrium sensors and gravity apparatus, the numbers blurring in front of him as he started to hyperventilate.

Something was wrong. Maybe if he did a complete system restart…

He’d given secondary clearance when he heard an angry shout echo down the maintenance shaft as the sirens began to wail, warning of a complete system shut down in 10…9….8…

Castiel was shoulder checked out of the way, tumbling to the ground as a young man in dungarees and an A-shirt covered in sweat and grease, welding goggles perched atop his head was scowling at the board. His fingers flew over the glass as he bypassed screen after screen, adjusting numbers here and there before pushing the commands to the system.

The siren cut off mid-wail, and Castiel glanced up, seeing the propulsion sphere begin to ascend again as it orbited around them, the frenzied whir dulling to its rightful, pleasant hum. Castiel’s eyes fell to the man who was also watching the inner workings of the ship, Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, broad shoulders loosening a bit before he huffed a sigh out his nose and ripped the goggles off his head, hurling them, so they skidded across the floor to clink hard against the viewing glass. Castiel’s stomach lurched, and he was suddenly terrified that the glass was going to crack, and he’d be sucked out into the void.

“I don’t know how the fuck you got down here, but you nearly killed us all!” A large hand closed around Castiel’s bicep, jerking him to his feet.

This time Castiel’s stomach lurched for an entirely different reason. Green eyes, furious but clear as a summer lake and fringed with thick lashes so long it was practically obscene, especially on a man, held Castiel’s. Full pink lips were moving over hateful words but glistened as if he’d just wet them, and a stubbled jaw sharp enough to cut glass flexed with his frustration. Castiel was so mesmerized by the constellation of freckles spreading across the man’s nose and cheeks that it took Castiel a full beat to realize that he was looking up, a few inches shorter and much more narrow, the other man’s broad shoulders and bowed legs holding space the way Castiel’s lithe frame never could. His eyes lingered on the corded muscles of the man’s arm, moving down to the large hand with thick fingers that dug into Castiel’s arm. Castiel looked back at the face again, tuning back in to what he was saying…well, yelling.

“…insane, great. I oughta knock your fucking head off, but I’ll let security deal with you.”

“Something’s wrong!” Castiel blurted, planting his feet when the man began to drag him towards the stairs. The man stopped and narrowed his eyes.

“Yeah, okay. Come on, I’m sure they’ve got a nice jacket around here for you somewhere.”

“I’m not crazy!” Castiel ripped his arm from the man’s grasp, and he gave a heavy sigh, rolling his eyes as he turned before he gave Castiel a placating smile. Castiel scowled. “The equilibrium sensors have to be down. The system isn’t showing it, but if they were damaged or if there was some kind of surge-”

The man waved a silencing hand before he cut Castiel off. “We’ve had clear skies since we launched and electrical has been steady the entire ride-“

“Even if it fluctuated by 1 to 2 Oms, it could trip another system to surge into another without setting off the alarms.”

The man lifted a brow and then laughed. “Do you know what kind of perfect storm in the machinery would have to occur for that to happen?”

“Yes, I do, in fact.” Castiel glared hard, reaching up to wipe the sweat from his upper lip. “If the surge happened in the gravity channel-”

“Gravity channel has barely moved half an Om either way since we took off. Look, man, I been running this thing since the very first tests. She’s my baby and ain’t nobody knows her better than me ‘cept maybe the designer-”

“Castiel Novak, nice to meet you.” Castiel thrust his hand forward, and the man’s face went sober, eyebrows shooting to his hairline.

“Uuuuuuuuuh…” the man took Castiel’s hand, blinking at him as if seeing him for the first time.

“And your name is? Certainly, it’s not ‘uh.’”

“Uh - shit!” The man used his free hand to rub at his forehead and heaved a sigh. “It’s Winchester. Dean. Dean Winchester. Sir.”

Castiel waved a hand as he let go of Dean’s and realized it came back with black fingerprints smudged across the back. Dean grimaced and pulled a rag from his back pocket, offering it to Castiel. He wiped his hand methodically, trying to calm his racing heart, but the panic still crackled along his skin. Dean was eyeing him up and down, and he felt a flash of heat that had nothing to do with anxiety.

“Shit, my brother is gonna freak,” Dean muttered as Castiel handed him back the cloth and shook his head.

“We need to do a full system restart.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed, and he held out a hand, a cautioning gesture. “You… you know that will literally kill all of us, right? Like, you’re supposed to be smart, man! You gotta know that shutting down all systems when going hyperspeed through deep space is a death wish.”

“It’s dangerous, I know, but-”

“Dude, the climate shields will freeze over, and the slightest density shift would shatter it like glass. That’s game fucking over.”

Castiel frowned. “They wouldn’t freeze over.” Wait…

“Yes, they would, and I can see, now, you realize that.” Dean crossed his arms over his chest.

“But, something is wrong!” Castiel’s voice cracked at the last word, arm flinging out towards the panel, and Dean’s face shifted from disbelief to suspicion.

“Wait…”

Castiel was trying to judge if he could sidestep Dean and get to the panel, shivering at the thought of their bodies colliding, so he didn’t hear what Dean had asked. He blinked at him, head tipping to the side.

Dean rolled his eyes, heaved a sigh, and Castiel found himself being corralled back against the wall, Dean invading his personal space. His brows were drawn, green eyes searching blue, and Castiel had the strongest urge to kiss him. What was wrong with him? Castiel was so freaked out he didn’t even flinch when Dean’s wrist pressed warmly to his forehead, then the backs of his fingers to Castiel’s cheek.

“How long you been off-planet?” Dean’s brow was knitted in concentration. Castiel shifted, very aware suddenly that he was half hard in his slacks.

“Three days…”

Dean’s mouth did something interesting that stole all of Castiel’s attention. “Hey? You hear me? Is this your first time? In deep space, I mean?”

“Oh,” Castiel felt his cheeks heat up and was further embarrassed when the backs of Dean’s fingers returned to his face, undoubtedly feeling the warmth of his blush. “Yes, actually.”

Dean gave a perfunctory nod. “You got a case of space.”

Castiel’s brows pulled down, and his head tipped to the side. Dean grinned. “Case of… what?”

“It happens to everyone,” Dean rolled his eyes, shaking his head. “Well almost everyone the first time they go deep. You get all queasy and panicky and… other things. It’s the artificial gravity.”

“No one…” Castiel swallowed hard as that sudden sense of falling hit him again. “No one mentioned that.”

“Probably thought you knew, man. You being… well, you.”

“Well I’m definitely queasy and panicky. What’s the other things?” Castiel’s eyebrows rose when Dean blushed, looking away, putting a good foot of space between them.

“Uh… well…” He huffed a laugh as he reached up to rub at the shell of his ear. “It can do things to… well…” Dean gestured vaguely between them.

Castiel’s head tipped to the side and squinted. “I’m sorry I don’t-”

Dean sighed. “It makes you really horny.”

Castiel blinked and looked down. “Oh…”

“Yeah, oh.” Dean chuckled. “My first trip deep, I almost got fired because I spent the first week disappearing to jerk off every hour.” Castiel’s eyes widened, and Dean’s smile slipped away, adam’s apple bobbing in a way that made Castiel want to bite at it. He was fully hard now. “That was an overshare, sorry.”

“No, no, it’s fine.”

“Yeah,” Dean’s eyes flicked down. “You’re just saying that because you got a steel rod in your pants right now and I’m…. well…” Dean flicked a hand up indicating himself, and the cocky grin that spread across his handsome face made Castiel step forward right into his personal space.

“You are quite attractive.”

A subtle blush covered Dean’s cheeks making his freckles stand out even more. He chuckled. “I uh… don’t think it’s a great idea to fuck the boss.”

“I’m not your boss.”

Dean rolled his eyes. “My boss’ boss’ boss then.” Dean let his eyes drift down, pausing at Castiel’s lips before traveling all the way down and back up again. “Shame, though.”

“How long does this last?”

Dean shrugged. “Week or so.”

“And masturbation…”

“Helps, yes.” Dean smirked, and Castiel felt a tug between his legs that made him shift forward, hands reaching to grip Dean’s face.

“I’m going to kiss you.”

Dean didn’t move. “Okay then.”

It was tentative, Castiel trying to remember the last time he kissed someone, much less another man. Dean’s lips were soft and warm, and he almost seemed to melt into the kiss, letting Castiel lead, which surprised him. After a few moments, he pulled back, finding Dean’s eyes still closed, lips even cushioned into a soft pucker. Green eyes opened and the insistent pull Castiel felt in his balls nearly made him whine.

“Uh… so…”

“Your room is in the residential wing or down here?” Castiel knew it was down here. He designed the ship after all.

Dean’s lips quirked. “We’re going to my room?”

“It’s closer.”

“Thought you didn’t know where it was?”

Castiel nearly hissed as Dean’s hands landed on his hips, the heat searing through the fabric between them. “I wanted to give you the option to decline one more time before I take you right here.”

Dean’s eyes grew large, his pupils blown wide, and Castiel had to have lost his mind, but who could blame him with his erection throbbing the way it was. He wondered if he’d regret this later, once the fog wore off. They didn’t say anything after that, lips colliding over an over in a heady rush of teeth and tongue, pin-balling off various panels and encasements until Dean managed to pull them through the door of his small room.

Only a double bed with a small side table and a tall dresser filled the space barely larger than a closet, but the wall next to the bed was entirely viewing glass, and Castiel remembered wanting to make sure that the ship’s crew had views as spectacular as the residents. He was momentarily frozen, but a quick whistle from Dean and his attention was back just in time to catch the small bottle of lube as it hit him in the chest.

It was suddenly very easy to ignore, with Dean tugging his tank top over his head and tossing it aside before dropping his pants and boxers. Castiel tossed the bottle on the bed and made quick work of his own clothes as Dean stepped into his personal space, grabbing up the bottle and squirting some into his hand, grabbing Castiel’s cock as soon as his pants and boxers slid past his thighs.

“Oh, fuck,” Castiel groaned, his forehead thunking against Dean’s as his slick, warm palm moved over his flesh, and he didn’t think he’d ever been this hard in his life.

“God, you’re so hard,” Dean murmured, voice a low rumble that sounded wrecked with want. “Fuck I want you inside me.”

Castiel didn’t need any more coaxing, grabbing Dean by the biceps and spinning him to face the bed, a firm hand going to the back of his neck as he bent him over the footboard, one foot tangling in the pants around his ankles to kick his feet further apart. Dean moaned, hands gripping the metal bar of the footboard, arching his back.

The head of Castiel’s dick brushed against the back of Dean’s thigh, leaving a trail of precum across his skin as Castiel got more lube, giving his dick a sharp jerk before pressing the pads of his fingers to Dean’s hole. Dean whimpered, the sound tugging in Castiel’s balls, and he applied pressure, the tips of his fingers pushing past the tight ring of muscle and immediately began scissoring as he pressed gently forward.

“Fuck, Cas, yes, open me up.” Dean’s head hung loose on his neck, and Castiel admired the muscles in his back as they tensed and rolled with each twitch and roll of his hips.

Castiel’s fingers were seated to the knuckle after only a few moments, Dean hissing while urging him not to stop. Castiel couldn’t take it anymore, all the pent up, nervous energy threatening to burst from his skin. Dean’s whine when his fingers left him was immediately covered by a gasp as Castiel guided the blunt tip against Dean’s hole, prodding experimentally before applying pressure, and they both moaned when the head popped in.

Castiel felt frantic, hands moving to grip Dean’s hips, and he tried to press in slow, sweat gathering on his brow, but Dean was pushing back, and they met in the middle with harmonizing groans. Castiel’s fingernails bit hard into Dean’s skin, begging silently for control, but he knew this wouldn’t last long.

“Dean…”

“Give it all you got, Cas. I ain’t fragile.”

Castiel’s accompanying moan was drowned out by the sharp sound of skin smacking skin, and the rest was a blur of savage thrusts and slick skin. Castiel’s orgasm hit him hard, body curling in and over Dean as his hips kept working against him. Dean’s body began to tremble, moans turning to shouts as the new angle sent pulse after pulse against his prostate. Castiel’s arms wrapped around Dean’s waist while one hand trailed down, finding Dean’s own fist working himself furiously. All it took was Castiel’s hand closing over his for Dean to shout, his release flowing over both their hands as his ass clamped down, milking the dregs of Castiel’s pleasure from his tender flesh.

They both ended up on their backs, feet still tangled in pants and boots but neither cared. The bed was barely big enough for the two of them, so they were pressed thigh to thigh, hip to hip, shoulder to shoulder, and Castiel was half surprised not to see steam rising from their cooling flesh.

Dean heaved a sigh after a while. “Well that was definitely not how I envisioned my day ending.”

Castiel let out a reluctant snort and made the mistake of glancing over at Dean, which got him an eyeful of the inky black outside, a nebula in the distance splintering the dark with purples, pinks, and blues. Dean’s arm lifted at the sound of distress pulled from the back of Castiel’s throat, tucking Castiel in against his chest and shushing him softly.

“It’s hell the first couple-a days.” Dean patted his hair placatingly. “You go up to medical they’ll be able to give you something for the nerves.”

“But not the lust?”

Dean was quiet for a moment. “Uh I dunno. Most folks only talk about the panic and paranoia.”

Castiel glanced up at him. “You never took it?” Dean shook his head. “Why?”

Dean shrugged. “I’m a badass.” Dean jostled him, grinning. “Now, my brother, Sam? - He thinks the sun shines out your ass, by the way-” Castiel gave a startled laugh. “First time I took him deep, I had to lead him around with his eyes closed any time there was viewing glass. Dork slept in the bathtub for a week because he said it felt safe. Space does screwy things to your psyche.” Dean rolled his neck, digging his head back into the pillow and closing his eyes. “The sex helps.”

“It seems to, yes.” Castiel peeked over Dean’s chest and out the viewing glass, the clouds of the nebula shifting. He shuddered. “Thank you.”

Dean chuckled, his voice turning to a silken purr. “Oh, it was my pleasure.” A pause. “You know I could be persuaded to let you stay down here, you know until you get evened out… Walk you through the logs every day… other things.”

Castiel blinked, his eyelashes brushing against Dean’s skin, and watched it pebble to gooseflesh. “That’s kind of you. What do you have in mind?”

“Welp,” Dean grunted as he dug his arm over the side of the bed and tugged out a book. Castiel’s head lifted, realizing it was his book. “Maybe you could sign this for my kid brother?”

“Sam?”

A fond smile pulled at Dean’s lips. “Yeah, Sam.”

“I find your terms agreeable.” Castiel wiggled back down and planted his cheek over Dean’s heart, exhaustion settling heavily on him suddenly. Dean snorted.

“Shoulda pushed for a video call.”

“We can do that too,” Castiel murmured, eyes sliding closed and felt Dean’s muscles tense.

“Wait, for real?”

“Someone needs to teach him that the sun is located in the Local Interstellar Cloud and not my ass.”

It took Dean a solid minute to quit laughing.

Three weeks later, after a complete overhaul of the Impala’s technological maintenance schedule, two video calls with Sam Winchester, and frankly a disturbing amount of sex with Dean, it was officially concluded by medical that his cells and organs had adjusted entirely and all his bloodwork came back normal. Dean’s casual observation that with most of Castiel’s stuff was already down there and the mechanical maintenance evaluation kicking off, it was probably for the best he just stayed down there. Castiel, without hesitation, agreed.

#suptober20 #suptober #destiel #deancas #casdean #spn fic #fanfic: supernatural #writing by me

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mirainawen · 5 years ago

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Little!Adam + Kevin, "We must make more cookies before they come back and find the jar empty!" "No, you just want to eat more." A pout. "Well, I guess we could make more and then leave them one each." "Sounds fair to me. Besides if they asks, I'm telling them you ate them all." "Hey, I thought we were a team. And besides, they'd never believe you, especially with that chocolate all over your face."

So…a million years later…I slowly begin to write again…

What do you call an overwrought prophet and a de-aged half-Winchester? The beginning of a terrible, cosmic joke

He’s certainly seen weirder things, Kevin thinks one surreal Saturday morning in early May. Just…maybe none quite so strange as the one that sat across from him that morning. He wasn’t even supposed to be here and somehow Sam and Dean did what Winchesters do best in his life: railroad it. Dean’d, of course, gotten the last word, slamming the bunker door shut tight as he and Sam headed out, and the silence had hung heavy and bitter over the whole place.

Kevin’s less than thrilled, and had been all night. Sleeping on it hadn’t taken much of the sting out of it, though ‘sleep’ was used loosely. As for the only other occupant, well, nothing had ever seemed to sit well with him in the first place, and now? Now, he didn’t have a clue what to do with the motion-sensitive bomb turned-

“What?” Adam suddenly grumps, staring in disgruntlement at the box of Lucky Charms in his small fingers.

-turned five-year-old.

And wasn’t that the most bizarre thing of all? Nothing he’d seen since the Winchester Intrusion had prepared him for this, and apparently Sam and Dean were just as stumped despite all their years in the business.

Kevin realizes he’s probably supposed to answer, so he manages tightly, “What?” He’s honestly not sure he really wants to approach whatever’s under Adam’s skin this morning with a ten-foot surgical knife. He’d witnessed some impressive fits of temper in his occasional visits the past year of “sabbatical.” Sabbatical? Was that even a thing in the hunter’s world? Or…Men of Letters? Whichever.

“Deh-coder’s gone.” Adam explains, shaking the cereal box to produce a rustle that drops an uncertain prick into Kevin’s stomach. It was half gone at the very least, and hadn’t they opened that box last night? (An uneasy dinner that was still…uneasy.)

Damn, but how much had the kid had already? And how long had he been up before Kevin had stumbled for the coffee pot? Adam hadn’t said a word, barely seemed to acknowledge him, and honestly…that, at the very least, had seemed about accurate for what he’d seen of Adam the past year. But, unfortunately, it had also meant that in his previous fog he had approached the situation with the same manner he’d treated it since Adam first arrived: Adam had alternated quietly disdainful and loudly argumentative, and he wasn’t on Kevin’s radar as long as Kevin wasn’t on Adam’s. And he usually wasn’t unless it was for a disdainful sneer.

But Dean had warned last night to keep a close eye on the de-aged kid, hadn’t he? Sam had seemed a little more lax, just shrugging with an assurance that Adam was fine most of the time. So…what had they gotten him into? Sugar-crazed kids were not his idea of a good time. How had he been tagged into baby-sitting duty? The half-Winchester was a Sam and Dean problem (case, point, name), and he had enough of his own as a stressed out, wanted prophet on the run from a tireless destiny. He was an unfortunate plaything of an indifferent and infuriating fate. Sam and Dean should be the ones giving him a break, not making things worse.

Winchesters bred extra bizarre at an alarming rate, and he wished they’d leave him out of it.

Adam sighs heavily, and Kevin careens abruptly back into the present with a blink. “Hello, prophet-man? What happened to it?”

“Uh…” Kevin scrambles, staring at the sleep-tousled five-year-old in one of Sam’s or Dean’s shirts. The kid stares back pointedly. What were they…?

Adam snorts. “Sam and Dean said you were sooooo smart.”

Taken aback, he realizes Adam had been looking to him for answers. But, “They do?” pops out before he can think about it, surprised.

Adam sighs again, this time heavier and more annoyed. The box thunks softly on the table before he pushes it away. “Yeah,” he grouches, “but they’re kinda stupid so whatever.” He’s glaring down at the bowl with…wait…Kevin blinks, peering closer. Was the kid pouting?

Suddenly he realizes just what he’d started to think the night before: if he ignored the fact that he’d been informed upon his arrival that this tyke was Adam Milligan, half-Winchester, angelic body bag and the stubborn little shit giving Sam and Dean all kinds of grief the past year, he could easily believe that the irritated five-year-old Dean had gotten into a shouting match with at bedtime was actually a next-generation Winchester kid, product of a busted condom and one of Dean’s conquests or something. Adam could rival Dean on his best day even before the kid had been de-aged.

He shakes himself from this ridiculous train of thought before it derails entirely. Pouting though he may be, there’s still plenty of room for the animosity Adam never seems short on.

“Of course,” he snarks in return. But…well, he agrees with the disgruntlement Adam feels, if not the outright sentiment. Plus, he has no desire to set the kid off: Adam had proved he could throw quite the meltdown over the fury and hatred he harbored towards his brothers, and Kevin knows it’s still in that frame, even if it was much smaller now; Adam’s animosity was a lot like cigarette smoke: lingering long after the smoker is gone. No need poking a sleeping grizzly. Last night had proven that.

Adam’s eyes flick to his face, a cutting look that pours ice through Kevin’s veins; he’s seen it a dozen times before, even if the face forming the expression is softer and younger. Shit, what had he said?

Worry over a tantrum vanishes as Adam smiles. “Maybe you’re not stupid.” He grants benevolently, and Kevin thinks sarcastically how nice it is to be let off by a five-year-old. He does not mention that this grant insinuates that Sam and Dean might actually be smart enough to know what they’re talking about then. Adam’s not going to give ground on his brothers, and honestly, Kevin would be shocked if he ever did.

“Now,” Adam pauses, stretching a little before settling deeper into his chair, Lucky Charms softening in whole milk. “The deh-coder is gone.”

“Maybe Dean took it.” He snarks, shrugging around his coffee. He’s not had nearly enough.

Electric blue eyes narrow, something tightening along Adam’s jaw. “Dick.”

Kevin’s brows shoot toward the roof and the coffee stings at the back of his throat as he narrowly avoids choking. Had to be Dean’s influence. Had to.

Well imagining the bitchiness on Sam’s face every time Dean did what Dean did best (and that is, be himself) in front of the kid, he stifles a chuckle at the image.

Adam seems relatively satisfied with Kevin’s answer because he shoots forward and digs into his bowl with all the put-out gusto the kid was known for, twenty-something or five irrelevant. Two charms slide stickily down the outside of the bowl and a splash of milk pulls three pieces of grain with it. Kevin’s suddenly standing in his mom’s kitchen five years previous with his cousins in the process of destroying it and he was in charge.

“Don’t make a mess,” he grumps sharply into his mug, swallowing the horror he feels at having to babysit again.

Adam smacks his lips. “No,” and there it is, the contrary brat is back full force. So much for appeasing the kid with snarks about his brothers.

How had he gotten roped into this?

It’d been an hour and death cannot come fast enough for Kevin. Honestly, when would he be released from this mortal coil? He hated his life, hated it ever since the incident, see, and having powers sucked, and he never asked for any of this. He’s going to kill Sam and Dean slowly and painfully with some trick he’s learned from that angelic tablet, he swears it, while Adam “don’t call me Winchester” Milligan takes a long hike off a short pier.

The kid was a nightmare on steroids with an unhealthy side of late night haunting, and Kevin’s going to lose his goddamned mind again. That would make the third time this year, but honestly who’s counting? (He is. He’s counting. He hates it.)

“Adam!” He snaps for the fifth time in as many seconds. Adam wasn’t listening.

“I’m busy, prophet-man!” Adam snaps, launching himself to the other side of the couch. The kool-aid Kevin most certainly did not get him sloshes dangerously close to the brim of the cup in Adam’s hand. “You’re inner-uping!” Adam starts his count over, hop, hop-

“No, get off the couch with that!” Kevin snatches for Adam’s arm, which is stupid, stupid, on his part; first, that kool-aid’s definitely going overboard; second, Adam’s…Adam’s never taken well to his personal space being invaded. He’s seen Dean make that mistake a few too many times.

He catches air instead as Adam whips to the side to avoid him, overbalances, and there goes the kool-aid down Kevin’s front (not the couch, he thinks thankfully, but still irritated). Adam kicks the cushion, pushing into the back of the couch with a growl.

He kicks his leg out. “Now I have to start again,” he grouches.

“Not with that,” Kevin snatches the now-empty cup.

“Hey!” Adam snaps. “That’s mine!”

“Well it shouldn’t be,” Kevin’s grouching as he wipes the bright red liquid off his face. Now he needs a shower…he shudders to think what would happen if Adam was left unsupervised even for a military one. “I didn’t say you could have kool-aid.” It just pops out, and Kevin shudders harder at suddenly turning into a disgruntled authority figure. Why should he care if the kid has too much sugar?

He remembers Sam’s disheveled appearance at the bunker door last night as if he hadn’t slept in an age, and remembers why.

Sleep was about the only pleasure Kevin had left to him. With few nightmares, courtesy of a mental block Cas had given him. He didn’t dream much, but it was better than being on pills, he supposed.

“Yeah, well, you’re not Dean.” Adam grumps, and Kevin snorts.

Yeah, thank God. He got to check out as soon as either Winchester returned. Why hadn’t they just called Garth if they needed to check a lead? This seemed way more like a Garth gig than a prophet’s duty.

Kevin’s stomach sinks through the floor, though, as he abruptly realizes he’d said Yeah, thank God out loud when Adam’s face darkens.

“Yeah, well I didn’t say I wanted you here.” Adam shoots back.

“No.” Kevin admits. Avoid the tantrum, is all he’s thinking. Don’t set the kid off. Adam’s fine most of the time, Sam had assured, and so that had to mean that Sam had tricks that Dean didn’t; channel Sam. Keep the peace. “And I didn’t say I wanted to be here, either, kid. Guess neither of us got much say in this.”

Adam’s scowl grows darker. “Don’t call me a kid. I’m not a kid.”

Yes, he’d heard that quite a bit last night during that shouting match. A glance or two at Sam’s pointed look at the far wall had confirmed Kevin’s growing theory: it wasn’t a new argument, and no doubt he’d been hearing it in various forms for far longer than a couple weeks. Say, a year?

“Fine. Just remember, dude, this is your brothers’ doing.” As much as Adam didn’t need much prodding to light that anger he harbored toward them, blaming absent parties seemed the easiest way to diffuse his disgruntlement toward him. The last thing Kevin wanted to deal with was Adam’s temper.

Adam groans, long, hard, angry. “Uggggghh, I KNOW.” He throws himself off the couch. “They don’t like me!”

That’s unexpected, but, well…not surprising. You’ve been a huge pain in the ass since you got back, kid is not going to go over well, even if he substituted ‘Adam’ for ‘kid’. But maybe that was the problem, Kevin thinks abruptly. He is a kid, at least now - and what kid wanted to feel like his own family didn’t like him? Sam had hinted the night before that Adam’s…consciousness seemed to come in and out: in moments he seemed more his old self, but those moments were fewer and farther between. This Adam was young and ruled by emotions he didn’t understand. At least the adult probably did.

Adam pauses and whips back around on Kevin, glaring up at him. “You don’t like me,” he accuses, and Kevin’s brows bounce toward the ceiling.

“You’re not particularly likeable.” He shoots back before he can think.

Adam’s eyes narrow. “You’re not either! You’re AH…noying.”

“You know, I think you said the same thing about Dean last night. Sammy too?” he goads.

“You can’t call him Sammy.” Adam’s voice has turned to venom, and for a moment, Kevin thinks he probably should have quit while he was ahead. He doesn’t know what he’s falling head first into.

“You know something, Adam, I think you think everyone’s annoying because you don’t like anyone.”

Adam’s lips thin into a scrunched, wet line. There’s a kool-aid stain rimming the sides of his mouth, at glaring odds with the fury radiating off his impossibly tiny frame. “Maybe,” he challenges, “I hate everyone cause everyone hated me first.”

That gives Kevin pause, stilling the world for a moment. He can see how Dean so easily gets pulled into arguing with him. There’s something about Adam that dares people to challenge him, something about his absolute certainty in anything he says that demands a retort. No wonder Dean can’t leave it be. And Kevin…well, Kevin’s not really sure why he let himself get drawn in. Channel Sam.

“Nobody…nobody hates you.” His incredulity takes centre stage first. He wouldn’t say that Sam and Dean loved Adam, and feeling obligated is a far cry from caring, but…hate was a strong word. And felt vile coming from a child about his own family. He knows, logically, it’s not a child saying it and blood doesn’t automatically mean family, he’d learned that lesson the hard way a few times over, but something in Kevin wants to reach out regardless.

Saving people. He wasn’t quite to the whole hunting things stage, but maybe he’d always been in the business of salvation. He’d never had faith in a great many things, and even less the past few years, but there were many different forms of salvation. Everyone starts with a soft heart, his mother used to say. Nobody was born angry or hard.

It’s easier not to care. He knows that. But he’d had a few arguments with certain Winchesters about it for good reason. Damn, but he missed his mom unbelievably, all the time.

Adam’s staring resolutely across the room, brow puckered and lower lip matching, but…but it’s not trembling, thank- whatever. (He hasn’t decided.)

“Hey,” he says softly, reaching out to gently put a hand on a bony shoulder. Adam turns to look at him, electric blue eyes cold and lined in red, light bruising across the bridge of his nose from some accident; those eyes seem somehow ancient and dead and lost all at the same time, and the room goes cold to Kevin. “Sam’s very fond of you.”

“Sam left me.” Adam answers in a dull tone that strikes a funny feeling in Kevin’s gut.

Sam left me… Kevin stares into those eyes, but even he doesn’t know what he’s searching for. Answers, maybe. Guidance, oddly enough: a way to help. Kevin feels it pulsing beneath his skin, an alien power to save save save, and-

“It was cold.” Adam offers softly, head tilting slightly. One shoulder rose and fell. “And hot. It was so bright. Always. All the time. And dark. So dark and quiet.” He raised one finger to his lips. “Shh, Sam.” The hand fell in mid-air, the other raising to join its counterpart inches apart with palms curled upward as though he held something in them. “I…” he shudders a breath, and Kevin doesn’t quite know why but he shudders too, a freezing tingle up his spine that needs someplace to escape.

Adam’s eyes flick to Kevin’s again. “Don’t wake up.” He says.

Kevin’s brow furrows, until his mind echoes the shuddery breath, I…don’t wake up. The floor disappears out from under him.

Adam abruptly pushes his hand off his shoulder and steps back. “Only you here, prophet-man.” He says, smiling with something so acrid it, too, is vile on the face of a child. “They left.”

They left you? Kevin thinks, but can’t speak. Doesn’t even know that he should. He doesn’t know enough, he doesn’t know anything. And what had- what had he felt, prickling along the edges of Adam’s skin, thrumming against his hand? It hadn’t felt…it had been alien. It had felt…no, he doesn’t want to think it. But it reminds him of holding the tablet and he doesn’t know enough.

He takes a second, sits down properly on the floor and stares at Adam. The kid hasn’t stormed off, so maybe there was talking to him.

“You’re mad Sam and Dean left last night, aren’t you?”

Adam’s brow lifts, which is unexpected for a five-year-old. “I don’t care.” He says stiffly, making as though to turn away, but he wavers. He glances sidelong at Kevin with an uncertainty that keeps Kevin’s gears turning wildly. There’s less of that bizarre dead look in his eyes and more of the angry kid he’s been seeing the past some-odd hours. Less chill.

“I think you do.” He says.

“I think you’re mad.” Adam shoots back, squinting at Kevin. “You don’t wanna be here.”

“No, I didn’t.” Kevin admits.

Adam nods. “Then you don’t have to pretend to care about me. I can take care of myself.” He snatches the empty cup from the coffee table. “This is my cup,” he says plainly, and it’s so absurdly young and childlike that Kevin wonders what had been going through his head a moment ago. Kid had some serious nightmares. Nothing angelic about it, barring their source.

“Um, sorry, but no more kool-aid for you.” Kevin gestures pointedly at himself, feels the sticky pull where the drink had dried on his skin, especially his face.

Adam looks at him like he’s plainly stupid. “If you weren’t here, where would you be?” he asks unexpectedly, and Kevin blinks.

“Oh, um…uh…Probably Colorado.” Garth had set him up pretty solidly out in the national forest. It was no veritable fortress like the Men of Letters bunker the Winchesters had inherited, but a cabin in the woods on the river was remote enough to give him some peace of mind. Cas had put some security measures in place, and Kevin had since reinforced them with further tricks he’d translated from the tablet.

Adam nods, turning away. “Then I think you should go back there, prophet-man.” The voice is deceptively light and...sweet.

Kevin blinks. “Yeah, nice try. Your brothers would kill me.”

“No,” Adam executes a turn on his heel. “They like you.” And the way Adam juts out his chin hints at bitterness.

Kevin sighs. “I’m afraid they’d still kill me, Adam. You’re like 2 feet tall and five. Not exactly old enough to be left alone.”

Adam folds his arms. The cup wavers against his side, tilting back and forth as his mind turns. “You sound like Dean,” he finally passes judgement.

“Well, sometimes Dean has like a little bit of sense.” He pinches his fingers close together to illustrate, hoping to draw the kid out.

Adam plucks his empty hand from the crook of his elbow, splaying his fingers as he stares down at them. “I’ve saved them a few times, you know,” he says loftily, and Kevin suddenly wonders if maybe he hasn’t been talking to the kid at all the past few minutes. His consciousness seems to slide back and forth between... Sam’s uncertain voice tapers off.

He doesn’t know what to do, but he finds himself reaching out. Adam’s just at arms’ length and Kevin leans in, closing his fingers around the tiny fist; the fingers are soft and malleable, bending beneath Kevin’s. Adam slowly raises his eyes, but they don’t hold the same look they did earlier: distant, sure, but not a deadly maelstrom like before. Kevin can’t put his finger on this one.

Why had he never had a single conversation with the adult? Adam’s just as lost and angry and terrified as the rest of them, and Kevin thinks they might have been friends.

“What happened?” he asks softly, and something jerks through Adam’s frame.

He tugs on his hand. “It was sup-POSed to be okay. He said…he said…”

“Who said?” he asks gently. There’s that feeling again, of touching the tablet; it wiggles beneath the skin of Adam’s fingers, but it's softer now, not quite as volatile.

Adam looks down, and that feeling passes. It’s a five-year-old hanging his head before Kevin, eyes shut, letting out a breath to his bare feet. “I think...I think I did something bad.” He says softly. “Is that...is that why Sam and Dean are mad at me all the time?” And if there’d been any doubt a moment before, it’s certain now: that’s all child staring back at Kevin, frightened and sad and desolate.

“No,” he finds himself shaking his head, because salvation is first and foremost for lost children, isn’t it? Nobody is born with a hard heart, Kev. Anger is where hurt still touches a tender place. “They were born grumpy.” He pokes at Adam’s stomach, because, well, okay, he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

Adam doesn’t smile, but he doesn’t flinch either.

Kevin stifles a sigh. What did one do for kids who used to be adults who’d been eaten alive, resurrected, thrown into a demonic, eternal cage with the devil himself, then rescued and brought back to the very people who’d only tolerated your existence the first (second?) time and who saw you as an obligation? Dean’s guilt could fill stadiums, but it couldn’t build a damned thing.

Not that he knows much better, either. None of this was exactly covered anywhere in his past life and there was nothing at all of help in that tablet.

“Sam’s not grumpy ‘less I wake him.” Adam finally says, softly but like he wants to contribute.

“No,” Kevin agrees, forcing a small smile to tick at his mouth. “You really gotta get on Sam’s nerves, don’t you?”

“And I do.” Adam is speaking to his toes again, and Kevin frowns.

“Somehow, I doubt that.” Kevin lies, rolling his eyes.

Adam’s frown deepens even as it turns on the prophet. “You don’t lie good.”

Well. He stifles a sigh.

“Nobody gets on Sam’s nerves like Dean, even you. Don’t argue with me, I have more experience than you.”

Adam folds his arms. “Yeah, and whose fault is that?”

“Not mine or yours.” Kevin shoots back as he pushes to his feet. “Now, uh...I think dysfunctional family-” Adam cocks his head like he’s puzzled “-means we should have milk and cookies.” Mom always made milk and cookies after a bad day: bad grades, rejection, bullies- you name it. Kevin feels a bit wistful even thinking about carrying on the tradition, but at the same time: it feels...good.

Adam, of course, careens full force into five-year-old and lights up like it's Christmas. “Yes!” He shoots from the room like a rocket, and Kevin startles.

“Hey! Wait!” And chases after the kid.

Adam’s feet are swinging freely in the air as he maws through a cookie the size of Kevin’s fist, reheated just enough in the microwave that they were soft and gooey. Crumbs decorate his lap, the floor, and even the counter on his left like incriminating evidence. His face fares little better, but he’s clearly feeling better. Kevin thinks he can forget all about the chill that had crept up his spine and that tugging sense of urgency to fix. Vivid imagination, right?

“You know,” he says, leaning on the end of the counter. Adam doesn’t turn his head, but his eyes cut his direction. “Your brothers are very annoying, you know that?” He’s ignoring a text from Garth -GARTH!- asking after Adam’s well-being. Damn Sam and Dean haven’t even bothered to check in.

Adam snorts. “You’re tellin’ me, prophet-man. Dean thinks I need supervision.”

Kevin’s jaw drops at the deadpan look the kid, a kid, gives him. Somewhere in there, Adam’s not a kid, but right now- there’s not a trace of anything else, and it is honestly screwing with Kevin’s mind. And his mind has been screwed with a lot.

Adam jams the rest of the cookie into his mouth, takes a big sip of milk before carefully returning the cup to the counter, rimming his messy face with a white mustache. “They mess up your life too?”

“You’re pretty grim for a five year old.” Kevin says instead.

Adam shrugs. “You ask stupid questions for a smarty pants.”

“Touche.” Honestly, at this point, he’s pretty sure he should just get used to it. If this was what adult Adam was like...might be worth making a friend. Wouldn’t that drive Dean up the wall?

Adam half reaches for the empty plate behind him when Kevin says, “That’s it. They’re all gone.”

Adam’s eyes widen. “What?” He stares at the plate, then across the room at the cookie jar.

“Nope. All out.” Kevin confirms.

Adam is quiet for a moment, mouth working, before he looks at Kevin with sudden urgency. “We’ve gotta make more before they come back and find the jar empty!”

“No, you just want to eat more.” Kevin laughs.

Adam’s lower lip protrudes. Pouting.

“Well…” Kevin finds himself hedging. “I guess we could make more and then leave them one each.” He reasons.

Adam nods solemnly. “Agreed. Besides, if they ask, I’ll just tell them you ate them all.”

“Hey! I thought we were a united front against your brothers? They’ll never believe you, especially with that chocolate all over your face!”

“I’ll wash! Can’t stop me, prophet-man!” Adam pushes off the counter, nearly giving Kevin a heart attack as he lands with a rather unpleasant slap of bare feet against the tile, but Adam gets up like he throws himself off of stuff all the time and-

The sound of the bunker door unlocking and opening sounds through the place. Adam’s eyes widen as they land on Kevin.

“We’re screwed.” Kevin announces, just as Sam’s voice carries through the bunker.

“Hey, guys?”

#de-aged!adam fic #adam milligan #my fics #sometimes i write things #adventures of the winchester brothers three #WB3 fics #kevin tran #poor kev's gonna have whiplash #why are these Winchesters like this #i present you:#my garbage #how do i write kev i dunno #mobile keeps cutting it off there's more i swear if you haven't read about cookies try your desktop

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just-a-touch-of-sass-and-fandoms · 7 years ago

Text

My Sammy

Title: My Sammy

Characters: Sam, Reader, and Dean

Word Count: 1,030

Warning: Absolutely none

A/N: I’ve decided to start posting more of my own fic ideas instead of asking for prompts. I’m just trying to get back in my rhythm so that in the future I can take requests. Send lots of feed back and enjoy!!

“Hey,” you smiled as you sat down next to the man on your right.

“Hey. Here for Professor Collins psychology class?”

You pretended to looked shocked. “What I thought this was knitting 101! Shit!”

He looked at you like he was deciding how crazy you actually were. All you could do was laugh.

“Wow! You aren’t going to last this semester if you freak out every time I try to mess with you!”

He laughed and leaned in. “That’s a challenge. And I happily accept it. So...it’s on. Bring it, uh, what’s your name?”

“Y/N. You?”

“Sam. Let the games begin.”

The next day in class, Sam started with a fake spider that fell from the bottom of your desk, and onto your lap as you sat down. Naturally, you screamed and all eyes were on you.

Sam had a very disgusted face at you, and the class. “Y/N, get it together. Nothing happened!”

Before you could respond, your professor agreed with Sam.

Sam couldn’t stop beaming all through lecture. It was an all out war.

After finding Sam’s roommate, you got him in on the action. You handed him a tube of bright pink, completely temporary, hair dye. Sam’s roommate mixed it into Sam’s shampoo just before he stepped in the shower.

Nothing seemed weird until there was bright pink in the water below him. Sam slammed the water off, looked in the mirror, and said every cuss word in the world.

He heard your laugh in the living room, and stomped out with a towel around his waist.

“Y/N! How could you do this! My hair is ruined!”

“I don’t know what to tell you Sam,” you smiled, “I guess we could always go to a salon to fix it.

Sam’s roommate finally broke and told him it was temporary.

Sam started to plot his next event.

Sam saw you in class about a week later and saw that you were wearing a light colored shirt.

Going up the stairs to your dorm, you got slammed with a water balloon. Sam and his buddies were dying laughing as they pelted water balloons at you.

Running up your dorms stairs, you slammed the door as you came out onto the roof. His buddies had run, but Sam stood there and laughed.

“Wow. What a bad fashion choice, Y/N. You should really consider thick and baggy clothes. It could save you from these sort of incidents.”

“Oh, it’s on Winchester, I’ve still got stuff to come.”

Turning on your heel, you stormed off the roof. Sam laughed as you left. You looked sexy as him while you were angry.

Over the next two weeks you racked your brain trying to think of something. Midterms were only a week or so away, so you decided to hold off a bit.

Sam was in the library just as much as you were. After about two days you were at the same table. You’d spat about where each other’s books were and how they invaded each other’s space. At one point both of you weren’t allowed to drink coffee at the table in case it might spill.

Over the next almost two weeks, Sam was one of your best friends, and you were his. Even if you weren’t studying, lots of text messages, Facebook conversations, sending each other snapchats or Instagram posts. You two had become a team instead of rivals.

If you were having trouble with your family or guys, Sam was the first person to show up and comfort you. When Sam had family issues, you never pressed him for details he didn’t want to share, you found other ways to comfort him.

You had a key to Sam’s apartment, it was closer than yours, and since you’d been at the library late, you crashed at his place. When you let yourself in, there was a few thuds from inside the apartment, and when you came in, Sam was holding some guy on the ground.

“Sam! Stop! What the- Sam!”

“It’s fine sweetheart.” The other man said. “I’m his brother.” He tapped Sam’s shoulder, and was helped up off the ground.

“Y/N, this is my brother, Dean.”

“Hey. Are you two alright?”

Sam tried to play it off cool. “Just brother stuff.”

Dean asked Sam to talk to him privately, so you went to Sam’s room.

You immediately went to the air vent and listened in on their conversation in the kitchen.

“Dean, I’m not going.” Sam whispered.

“It’s dad! We have to go.”

“Do we? All he ever did was hijack our lives.”

“Sam, please. Just help me figure out where I’m headed.”

“Dean, I can’t. He basically disowned me, and he destroyed your childhood.”

You could hear Sam’s groans and could sense all the wheels turning in his head.

You took a few deep breaths, and walked into the kitchen.

“Boys, all cards on the table. Tell me what’s really going on.”

“Y/N-“ Sam tried to but in.

“No. Everything. Tell me everything.”

For the next hour or so the boys laid it all out on the table. Their mother's death, the demons, life on the road, chasing leads and ending up discovering something each time. They truly laid it all out.

Taking a deep breath you processed it all for a moment.

“Aright, this is what’s going to happen. Sam, you consult. You help tie pieces Dean finds together, and help to figure out a game plan. Sam you read books like crazy, and I’ll help too.” The boys tried to cut in but you shushed them by holding up your finger. “Dean, you will actively hunt. Use other hunters, work to destroy the monsters with our help. But the second that you are isolated in your hunts, you come to us. We can take it from there.”

The boys just stared at you. “I agree with you both, someone has to take care of the crazy, and dangerous, world we live in. However, you two are not losing each other. And I’m not losing you two either.”

Taking Dean’s hand you locked eyes with him, “He’s my Sammy too.”

Let me know your thoughts!!!!

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#sam winchester #sam winchester fluff #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #sam x reader #sam x reader fluff #supernatural cuteness

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superwholock-marvel-images · 7 years ago

Text

Through time and space part 11

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10

The boys from Baker street are seemingly unfazed by the whole bigger on the inside thing. Right now only one thing was on their minds: you.

Once the Doctor drops Sherlock and John off in your hospital room the time lord takes off again more than likely to park the TARDIS elsewhere. Sherlock looks around the room, taking in the details. He slowly lets his eyes fall onto the hospital bed in front of him: you’re somewhere under all the tubes, wires, and bandages- unmoving as if you’re dead. The only indicator that you’re alive is the line on the heart monitor. “Y/N.” The consulting detective says, his voice cracking slightly. John clenches his jaw, a look of murder is written across his face.

A few minutes later Sam and Katie walk into the room. “What happened?” Sherlock asks in a calm manner. “The Doctor gave John and I a brief summary of what happened but it’s not a lot to go off on.”

“You were supposed to look after her!” John exclaims. “First Y/N gets electrocuted, now this!” He glares at your brother and sister. “You’re supposed to keep an eye on her to make sure she doesn’t get hurt.” No one dares to interrupt the angry hobbit. “One of my best friends is on death’s doorstep because of you!” Sam clenches his fist about ready to punch John in the face.

“How do you think Katie and I feel?!” Sam retorts. “Y/N is our kid sister!” Katie and Sherlock share a look, the two of them then separate your brother and best friend.

"Fighting won't help Y/N at all." Sherlock states crossing his arms. He then asks Katie if she could take Sam to another room. She nods and does so leaving Sherlock and John in silence. Surprisingly you start coming around 20 minutes later.

“Decided to return to the land of the living?” Sherlock asks in response to you coming out of a coma

“What’s the point of being dead, if I can’t torment you two.” You respond with a tired smile. Both John and Sherlock snicker in response. “All joking aside, thanks for not giving up on me, guys.”

“You’re welcome.” John says. “Besides that’s what friends are for.”

“That’s where you’re wrong John.” You say with a soft smile. “We’re not friends… we’re a family.”

“That’s one way how to put it.” While talking to your friends, Sam, Katie, and your dad walk in, you’re a bit confused about why Dean isn’t there with them.

“Jeez, what’s with the long faces around here?” You ask, causing your siblings to run over to your bed. You hiss in pain when Sam gives you a bear hug. He quickly backs off muttering his apologies. You just explain that your ribs are rather tender.

“Well what do you expect? You have at least six broken ribs.” John points out.

“No shit John, I can feel them.” Sherlock laughs lightly. Normally you don’t curse in front of your friends. Your family is a different story. Since Sherlock and John are both, you occasionally let a few curse words slip around them.

“Is that all you’re going to say on that subject?” Sherlock teases.

“Oh shut up.”

🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝

When you visit Dean is a little hard for you. “You don’t have to do this (nickname).” Sam tells you.

“I’ll be okay. Besides he’d do the same for me.” You reply. Sam nods before saying something about checking on dad and taking his leave, he also takes Katie with him.

“De… please wake up.” You softly say, tears threatening to fall. You place your hand in Dean’s, it’s cold and clammy. When Sam and Katie get back, Sam is holding your dad’s journal.

“Hey. So Dad wasn’t in his room.” Sam says. Before you can ask your brother continues. “But I got Dad’s journal, so who knows? Maybe there’s something here.”

“About what, Sammy you’ve lost me.” You say.

“Dean told me that there’s a reaper here.” You arch an eyebrow but don’t bother to ask.

“Mind if I borrow Y/N, for a little?” John asks leaning against the doorframe of Dean’s room. You get off that hard plastic chair and walk over to your friend. John leads you out into the hallway where Sherlock is waiting for the two of you.

“What’s going on guys?” You ask.

“I saw your dad head towards the boiler room.” Sherlock says.

“Why would he go… oh, that sneaky son of a bitch.” You state putting two and two together.

“What?” John asks. You then explain that your dad is more than likely doing something incredibly stupid to save your brother.

“Well then we should stop him.” Sherlock points out. You shake your head.

“Too late… think he’s already done it.” You say as Katie walks out of Dean’s room, she then places a hand on your shoulder.

“Dean just woke up.” She says. You throw your friends a ‘see what I mean’ look.

A few hours later you and your siblings watch in horror as doctors and nurses try to resuscitate your dad without much luck. “I’ll call it. Time of death: 10:41 am.” A doctor says. That’s a punch in the gut for all of you.

After giving your dad a hunter’s funeral, the Doctor, and Rose show back up (after taking John and Sherlock back to Baker Street), Rose asks if you would want to travel with them for awhile. “If my siblings can come then sure.” You answer.

“The more the merrier.” The Doctor replies.

“You guys want to come?” You ask.

“I don’t see why not.” Dean replies. “But I think we need our bags though.” You roll your eyes, but don’t argue the subject.

🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝

Rose changed her clothes into some shorts/overalls with a T-shirt. “You’re wearing that to the late 1970’s?” You tease.

“Well what about you? Just going to be wearing your blue jeans, open flannel, and T-shirt, plus sneakers?” Rose teases back. You laugh lightly.

“Hey Doctor, out of Rose and I who is dressed I’m more 70’s era clothing?”

“Both of you would be better off in a bin bag. Hold on, listen to this.” The Doctor answers putting in a CD. “Ian Dury and the Blockheads. Number One in 1979.”

“You’re a punk.” Rose jokes. Causing you and the Doctor to laugh.

“It’s good to be a lunatic.” The Doctor replies.

“Oh my god, why am I even friends with you two?” You randomly blurt out, soon everyone in the TARDIS is laughing.

When the TARDIS lands the Doctor starts to ramble. “1979. Hell of a year. China invades Vietnam. The Muppet Movie. Love that film. Margaret Thatcher. Urgh. Skylab falls to Earth, with a little help from me. Nearly took off my thumb.” The six of you leave the TARDIS. “And I like my thumb. I need my thumb. I’m very attached to… my thumb.” Riffles are cocked and pointed at the six of you. The Doctor then realizes that he landed in 1879 instead of 1979.

“You will explain your presence. And the nakedness of this girl.” One of the men says gesturing to Rose. The Doctor pulls out his psychic paper and hands it to the man.

“Let them approach.” A woman in the carriage says. Reluctantly the man allows the six of you to approach.

“Everyone, might I introduce her Majesty Queen Victoria. Empress of India and Defender of the Faith.” Sam’s eyes go as wide as quarters as if he can’t believe it.

“Y/N Winchester.” You say respectfully. “These two are my brothers Sam and Dean and this is my sister Katie.” You gesture to your siblings when you say their names. Queen Victoria nods in response.

“Rose Tyler, Ma'am. And my apologies for being so naked.” Rose introduces herself after you’re done.

“I’ve had five daughters. It’s nothing to me. But you, Doctor. Show me these credentials.” The Queen says. The Doctor hands her his psychic paper. “Why didn’t you say so immediately? It states clearly here that you have been appointed by Lord Provost as my protector.” The Doctor is a little shocked but he rolls with it. Queen Victoria then says that the six of you are to come along for the journey. No one dares to argue with her. The six of you walk behind the carriage talking in hushed tones.

“It’s funny though because you say assassination and you just think of Kennedy and stuff. Not her.” Rose points out.

“1879? She’s had, oh, six attempts on her life? And I’ll tell you something else. We just met Queen Victoria!” The Doctor answers with a giddy tone. Everyone laughs lightly. Rose and the Doctor make a bet about Rose getting the queen to say ‘I am not amused.’

“She seemed like she heard the name Winchester before.” Dean points out.

“Dude… Winchester Castle, in Hampshire England, has been standing since 1067. Of course, she’s going to know the name.” You reply resisting the urge to roll your eyes.

“Thank you for that useless history fact sis.”

“I could’ve told you eleven states that have either a town or a city with the name of Winchester.” You counter sauntering out of your eldest brother’s way.

🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝

“Your Majesty.” A man says when you arrive at your destination.

“Sir Robert. My apologies for the emergency. And how is Lady Isobel?” Queen Victoria replies.

“She’s indisposed, I’m afraid. She’s gone to Edinburgh for the season. And she’s taken the cook with her. The kitchens are barely stocked. I wouldn’t blame Your Majesty if you wanted to ride on.”

“Oh, not at all. I’ve had quite enough carriage exercise. And this is charming, if rustic. It’s my first visit to this house. My late husband spoke of it often. The Torchwood Estate. Now, shall we go inside? And please excuse the naked girl.” Rose blushes slightly and mutters her apologies.

“You know they won’t stop doing that until you change.” You whisper in your friend’s ear. Rose shrugs.

Once inside the house everyone is lead to the observatory. The Doctor starts going on about the telescope; he stops himself and looks at Rose. “Am I being rude again?” He asks.

“Yup.” Rose answers.

At dinner you notice Rose isn’t there. Something is a little off but you don’t say anything about it just yet. The lord of the house starts telling this story about a werewolf. You share a look with your siblings, the look is one that screams ‘we need to talk.’

You stand up and walk over to the window and look out of it. It’s a full moon. Rose might be in trouble again. You walk over to your siblings. “How many silver rounds do we have?” You ask.

“I have a full clip.” Dean says pulling his gun out of the waistband of his jeans and unloading it. Sam also has a full clip, you and Katie on the other hand barely have half a clip of silver bullets left.

“Y/N what are you doing?” The Doctor asks walking over to you and your family.

“I know how much you hate guns Doctor. But if you want Rose back without her becoming a werewolf, we might have to use them.” You explain. The Doctor reluctantly nods in response.

The women except for you, Katie, Rose and the Queen leave. You check your friend for bite marks, thankfully she doesn’t have any. “Y/N what are you doing?” Rose asks.

“I’m making sure that you didn’t get bitten by that werewolf.” You reply. “I don’t see a bite anywhere, and you still have your heart… so you’re good.”

“Stop this talk. There can’t be an actual wolf.” Queen Victoria states. Just before the wolf howls. You resist the urge to ask ‘you were saying.’

“What are we going to do?” Rose asks.

“Well we run.” You answer. “At least until we have a clear shot at the werewolf’s heart.”

“Your Majesty, as a Doctor, I recommend a vigorous jog. Good for the health. Come on!” The Doctor states. Everyone then runs up the stairs.

🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝 🐝

Some idiot tries to shoot the wolf with regular bullets. You shoot one of your silver ones- it just grazes the werewolf. “Well, crap.” You state. You almost said shit but because you didn’t want to swear in front of a queen you said something else instead. “I think I just made it angry.”

“You missed?!” Rose asks.

“Didn’t miss, just hit it in the wrong spot so run.”

After everyone is inside a room you make a salt line in front of the door and close it. “Where’d you get the salt?” Dean asks impressed.

“You wouldn’t believe me.” You answer.

“Why did it stop?” Rose asks, she sounds a little scared.

“Other than the salt? More than likely silver or mistletoe.” Sam answers.

“What, exactly, I pray tell me, someone, please. What exactly is that creature?” The queen asks.

“Putting it bluntly, that’s a werewolf.” Katie answers. Queen Victoria doesn’t want to believe your sister.

“What was the salt for anyways?” Rose randomly blurts out.

“It’s a repellent.” You answer.

“Sam’s right about the mistletoe.” The Doctor states looking up from what he is doing.

“Okay, so now what?” The Doctor thumbs through a book ignoring your comment. He then starts rambling about the werewolf being an alien of some kind. He then starts going off about a diamond. “Doctor what are you going on about?”

“We need to go to the observatory.” The Doctor states.

“Doctor, the silver worked I injured it… why do we need to go to the observatory?”

On the way to the observatory you manage to hit the werewolf a few times but once again you miss its heart. What ends up taking the werewolf down is the biggest diamond in the world. Queen Victoria is holding her hand close to her body. “Your majesty are you okay?” You ask.

“Oh yes, I hit my hand on a nail. I’ll be fine.” The queen answers. You’re a bit skeptical but you don’t push it.

You now somewhat understand why Sherlock said his brother ‘threatened’ him with knighthood. Queen Victoria dubs the six of you as nobles. You’re fairly certain that being dubbed as nobles of the Impala is going to be a running joke with you and your siblings for years to come. Queen Victoria then says that she doesn’t want to see any of you ever again. You’re okay with that. “So where are we going now?” Dean asks as the six of you head back to the TARDIS.

“Well let’s see where the road or in this case the TARDIS takes us.” Katie answers.

@the-third-winchester-warrior

@flannels-and-rocksalt

@always-keep-writing-spn

@winchesters-favorite-girl

@caroldanversinatardis

@spnkisum

@thewinsisterchronicles

#supernatural #sherlock #dr who #superwholock #supernatural brother sister moment #dean + sister reader #sam and dean oneshot #sam+ sister reader #sister! reader #lil winchester #sister winchester #littlesister!reader #little winchester #winchester sister

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supernatural-squadd · 8 years ago

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Bound By Fate

Winchester sister imagine

Mainly (Dean x Twin!Sister)

Warnings: Angsty stuffs, some light blood, the ending is a warning too.

Listen to this song after/while reading.

Let me know if you want on one of my many taglist

Sister tags: @skeletoresinthebasement

Forever Tags: @Freaksforthewin , @thewinhunter, @cambriacaneatnoodles, @brokennoone , @@youtubehelpsmesurvive , @chrisevansthedoritobastard , @@winchesters-favorite-girl , @@we-know-a-little-about-a-lot @godh8salyssa @dean-baby-Winchester @@straightasdeanwinchester @@animexchocolate @@fabulouslycassie @@lizbeth-loves-bobear @nicolesyneah25 @@lemonadegazeelle @@i-am-an-outcast @@evyiione @27bmm @percussiongirl2017

“You both look so alike!” The voice was coming from directly in front of your blurred vision and watery hearing.

“I mean getting one Winchester is a pretty big deal, but twins? The twins?” The unfamiliar voice spoke with amazement. “It’s almost unbelievable.”

Who was this person? What were they talking about? Where the hell were you? And most importantly: where was Dean?

***

“I really think I should tag along on this one, Y/n.” Sam persisted with an unsure sigh.

“Hey,” you placed a simple hand on his shoulder. “Dean and I-” glancing back you looked at your twin from the window outside. “we’ve got this.”

Regardless of your calm tone and your loving smile, Sam still had an awful pit in his stomach.

“Yeah you’re right. You and Dean would have this. But that-” he swallowed a gulp of air, it was hard for him to speak the words. “he hasn’t been himself lately.”

Of course Sam was right. Everybody, literally everybody, knew that Dean was well off his normal mental rocking chair. He’d been distancing himself from everybody. From hints. Mary who had just come back a few months ago. Most importantly you. In all his years of being your superhero sidekick, never had he ever shut you out. No matter how mad, how broken. Or how upset he was. You were his rock. The bond the two of you shared was a twin thing, and nobody else could come between that.

Obviously, Dean deeply loved and would do anything for Sam. But whenever he was having a tough moment, he’d always come to you first. Or keep you closer than usual to him. But not now. Not for the past month.

“He just needs a minute.” You reassured, even adding on a false smile that you forced.

Tilting his head to the side in the slightest, Sam let out a small huff of air. Showing he knew as much as you did, Dean wasn’t Dean in the least.

“I trust him with my life, Sam. I know he trusts me too.” Once again you looked through the window to see your brother packing up needed supplies in the car.

“We just- I need to give him whatever space he needs. For however long it takes.” You broke your trance on your twins movements and turned to the bed to grab your gun.

No matter hoe hard you tried to act fine with this all, Sam- well everybody, knew it was eating at your heart at a progressive rate.

There were no needed words. Just a simple hand on yours as you passed by Sam and headed out to the already idling car.

***

Forcing your eyes to open wide, you tried your absolute hardest to focus on something. Anything to wake up your vision. The first thing you saw was the unknown person standing over Dean, scratching his own knife along his unconscious jawline.

“If you hurt my brother I’ll kill you.” You weakly threatened. “I swear I’ll kill you.”

Breathing was hard to do, almost as hard as it was to speak with an extremely dry throat.

“Hunny, do you even know what day it is? You’re sitting here throwing threats like their knives, and you have no idea what’s going on.” There was a wide smile spread on the woman’s face, making you wrinkle your nose even more.

It took you a few moments to run over the day in your head. But soon you came to realize you knew it was Monday.

“I’ll give you a hint: It’s Thursday. Or as I like to call it, day four of the hostage situation.”

Your breathing began to get uneven at her words. You’d been unconscious for half a week? What about Sam? Did they get him too? Was he okay? Was he alive.

“Freckles over here is barely even hanging onto that little itty bitty strand of life.” She once more trailed the line on his face, this time not drawing any blood.

By now you were well aware of the situation and wide awake. Dean looked like absolute shit. He was so pale, so fragile looking. But you too were weak. You’d had no food in four days and were being tortured on the side.

“Let him go.” You half begged and half demanded. But only got a laugh in response.

“Tell ya what: You tell me what little warding sigil the angel used to protect Dean’s mind, and I’ll let you both go. After I get my peek into his head as I got from you.”

Up until now you hadn’t realized the metal contraption wrapped tightly around Dean’s head.

There was a time long ago that Dean loved a girl. Of course he didn’t really tell her, and showed his love by letting her and her son Ben go and forget about him. On that day, as you and your brothers made your way into the car, Dean made you both swear that under no circumstances would you ever tell anybody about them or mention them again.

Cas had blocked Dean’s mind from any telepathic or mind invading tricks. Making all his thoughts, memories, and secrets safe and sound. It was a one time deal.

Maybe this lady thought there was something extra special locked away in there. You knew for a fact you had nothing juicy inside your mind. But Dean’s life was on the line. If it were just yours, of course you’d say go to hell, but it was his too. And in your eyes, his life had so much more value than your own.

Dean’s words of protection and promise chord in your mind. If you told her how to bypass it and you and Dean walked out of here, he’d hate you forever. Hell, he threatened to pretty much beat the shit out of Sam if he ever mentioned them. Imagine what he’d do if you gave her the key to Lisa and Ben.

“Go deep throat a cactus.” You spoke with a shaky voice. Realizing you had just signed the pair of you up for death. But a Winchester is never really dead, right?

The woman sighed. Stepping out from between the circle she had you and Dean inside. Both of you tied down to a wooden chair.

“I was really hoping you would say otherwise.” She was really disappointed. “Such a waste.” She mumbled under her breath as she clicked on the lighter.

Instantly, a circle of gasoline was easily lit into a fire. Completely surrounding you and Dean. Directly through the middle of your path to your brother, another line of fire spread.

The heat began to rise to your cheeks, touching every part of your body just with its hot love. The smoke violated your personal space and filled your lungs with each breath. Even Dean woke up and began to cough immensely.

“Y/n…?” He yelled out, unaware you were right in front of him.

“I’m-I’m here Dean.” You called out to him, taking in even more smoke as you responded.

From across the flames you could see him struggling to break free of his restraints, but he found no luck. Soon realizing that he was not only tied to the chair by a medal chain, but that chain was cemented into the ground.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I’m glad we’re both here.” Each word was almost followed by a deep cough.

“What?” Dean’s sweaty features showed a look of confusion.

“You know. We came into this world together.” The words grew weak as your lungs began to cave in it felt.

“We go out together.” He finished the sentence for you.

“Y/n?” Again he called out your name, but found no reply.

“Hey, you’ve got to stay with me. I was born first, I’m supposed to die first.” He too was struggling to talk or breathe.

“I’m here-still.” Your voice was nearly gone as your head hung back in a lazy manner.

All feeling in your arms were gone. In your cheeks there was a tingly sensation hugged by warmth, as a weight felt like it was being pressed against your chest. This felt like the end, but was it really?

#dean imagine #dean winchester imagine #dean x reader #dean winchester #winchester brothers #winchester #winchester sister imagines #sam winchester imagine #sam imagine #sam x reader #sam winchester #spn imagines #spn imagine #supernatural imagines #superatural #supernatural imagine #spn

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impalasutra · 8 years ago

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To Have And To Hold

Summary: Dean encounters and picks up Castiel in a hotel bar and smut ensues.

Pairing/Character(s): Destiel

Word Count: 4257

Warnings: Drinking, Cursing, Cas and Dean both seem like kind of terrible people for a little bit, Smut: role play, kissing, teasing, battle for control, blow jobs, unprotected anal sex

A/N: This is for @waywardjoy’s Love The Ships challenge! My prompt was “Are you gay or drunk?” “Probably both.” So, FYI: Dean and Cas both seem like terrible people for a little bit in this but please stay with me, it all wraps up nicely at the end and I like to think it’s worth the payoff.

To Have And To Hold -

Dean surveyed the bar, getting the lay of the land and a handle on the patrons. He didn’t usually stay in hotels that had their own bars or restaurants attached, especially not one as nice as this. Tonight was a special night, though, and Dean was celebrating. His eyes scanned the room again, landing on an attractive man sitting by himself and swirling what looked like a glass of whisky. Dean began to walk across the bar towards the man but before he could get there, one of the seats next to him was occupied by a pretty blonde woman. Dean switched his course and sat directly opposite from the man, only looking away long enough to order his own glass of whisky.

Dean could tell the man wasn’t particularly interested in what the woman was saying and he certainly wasn’t interested in buying her a drink so Dean did the best thing he could think of to get the other man out of his situation: he sent over a drink.

The bartender dropped off the whisky and the woman reached for it before the bartender politely told her it was for the man she was talking to. Dean watched as the woman’s face changed from smug to angry in an instant. She started frantically looking around for the woman who would dare send the man she was targeting a drink, though she had been happy to accept an offer from someone besides the handsome man next to her.

Dean used the woman’s distraction to catch the man’s eye, wink, and smirk before nodding his head toward the empty seat next to him. The man smiled back and looked between Dean and the space beside him. He turned to the woman, briefly speaking to her before he stood from the bar and walked around to where Dean was sitting.

The woman watched him cross around the bar with a look that could only be called indignance. Dean had a feeling that she didn’t get turned down too often. When the man sat down next to Dean, she huffed, rolled her eyes, and stalked back to the table she’d been occupying previously.

“She looked pretty scandalized over there,” Dean commented. “What’d you tell her in order to escape?”

“I just told her that she wasn’t my type,” Castiel replied.

“And, what is your type, sweetheart?” Dean asked lecherously.

“Well,” Castiel began, looking up at Dean through his eyelashes, “not women, to begin with.”

Dean suppressed a groan as he watched Castiel’s tongue dart out to wet his lips before he pulled his lower lip between his teeth. He wanted this man. Badly.

“I’m Dean,” he offered.

“Castiel,” the man replied. “It’s nice to meet you, Dean.” Castiel’s eyes drifted to Dean’s lips and Dean was pretty sure the man wanted him just as badly.

Dean smirked and turned back to his drink, tilting his head back as he finished off the glass. He could feel Castiel’s eyes on him and Dean had never been more aware of the motion of his muscles as he swallowed. When his eyes returned to Castiel, the man’s lips were slightly parted and his blue eyes were roaming over Dean’s neck and chest.

Castiel blushed when he realized Dean was watching him. He cleared his throat and shifted his attention to his drink, finishing it in one swallow. Suddenly, Castiel was feeling shy and, as his ring clinked quietly against his glass he realized why. He’d never done anything quite like this before. His eyes shot up to Dean’s face but, luckily, the man was sitting to his right and hadn’t noticed his left hand yet. He could take the ring off, he supposed, but where would be the fun in that?

The two men drank, chatted, and flirted for another half hour or so, Dean slowly invading Castiel’s space. It started with a conspiratorial shoulder bump after a joke and then graduated to a hand on Castiel’s arm while he was telling Dean about his job. Well, the job he had made up to get Dean’s hands on him. He had hoped that Dean would try to subtly check out his muscles when he mentioned he was a personal trainer and Castiel hadn’t been disappointed. Dean had laid a hand against Castiel’s forearm and had not so stealthily slid it up to squeeze Castiel’s bicep.

Cas returned the favor, grabbing one of Dean’s hands while the handsome man told a story about a near death experience, or so Dean’s fear addled childhood brain had thought. Their touches were casual as conversation flowed easily between them. Castiel called the bartender over to order the next round but Dean, ever the gentleman, insisted on paying and adding Castiel’s bill to his own.

When the drinks arrived, Dean lifted his in a toast, leaned forward, and placed a hand on Castiel’s thigh. His hand wasn’t so high that a random passerby would pay any mind but it was certainly placed so that Cas understood Dean’s intention.

“To new adventures,” Dean declared, tapping the rim of his glass against Castiel’s.

Cas murmured his agreement and they both drank. He kept his eyes on Dean as the other man turned back to the bar. Dean had left his hand on Castiel’s thigh, though, and slid it a little higher, even. He squeezed the man’s thigh, turning and looking over his shoulder, green eyes meeting blue, as Dean wagged his eyebrows seductively and gave Cas a small smile.

For some reason, the action made Castiel giggle and his left hand flew up to cover his mouth in an effort to stifle his laughter.

Dean’s eyes moved to Castiel’s hand and the smile fell from his face. Dean was suddenly looking pensive. Castiel studied Dean’s face for a moment, wondering what had changed the man’s demeanor so quickly. He dropped his hand from his face and watched as Dean’s gaze followed.

Realizing what had happened, Cas put his drink down and fidgeted with the wedding ring Dean had just noticed.

“She…” Castiel began, not quite knowing how to finish his sentence. Shit, he thought, he’d gone too far. He should have taken the ring off; Dean wasn’t into it. Shit.

Castiel pulled together every ounce of bravado and courage he had left in him and spoke again. “She won’t be a problem.”

Dean look at Castiel, really looked at him. When he finished his examination, Dean turned back to the bar and waved to the bartender, ordering another drink for himself but not one for Cas. The two men sat in silence until the glass of whiskey arrived. Dean took a swallow and then began to speak.

“Look man, I don’t want to be anyone’s experiment. I don’t care how hot you are.” He mumbled the last part as he stared into the amber depths of his glass. “Are you gay or drunk?”

“Probably both,” Castiel replied without much thought.

Dean turned back to Castiel and cocked an eyebrow.

“Definitely both,” Castiel giggled.

Dean rolled his eyes but huffed out a laugh at the man’s antics. He made a decision, tipped back the rest of his drink, and dropped enough cash on the bar to pay for their evening and leave a nice tip. He gave Castiel his sexiest, most seductive smirk; it was a look that never failed and Dean had dubbed it his panty melting stare. Dean watched Castiel’s eyes darken at the promise the look contained. He leaned in close, his hand back on Castiel’s thigh, even higher up this time. “Why don’t we take this up to my room?” Dean asked, his lips brushing against the shell of Castiel’s ear as he spoke.

Castiel shivered at the contact and nodded, not trusting his voice. Dean was absolutely intoxicating and, while he supposed it could be the whiskey he had been drinking, Cas was feeling light headed and giddy at the prospect of going upstairs with Dean. He hadn’t felt this way in at least a year and Cas decided then and there that this was not going to be a one time thing.

Dean stood and held out a hand to Castiel, who allowed himself to be pulled from his his seat and toward the elevators. They were alone in the elevator lobby and Dean was grateful for that. He could barely keep his hand off of the blue eyed man as they waited. They entered the elevator and Dean pulled Castiel towards him as the doors began to close.

At the last second, an arm flew into the elevator and the doors slid open. Cas pulled back from Dean but the man left his fingers hooked through his belt loops as a pretty middle-aged woman stepped onto the elevator with them. She gave both of the men an appreciative glance before her eyes fell solely on Castiel, raking up and down his body. Dean used his hold on Castiel’s belt loops to possessively pull the man into his body. A few seconds later, the door was opening again and Dean led Castiel off the elevator and down the hall to their room.

As soon as the hotel door closed behind them, they couldn't keep their hands off one another.

Dean backed Castiel against a wall and practically attacked his mouth. The kiss was intense, both of the men fighting for dominance with their tongues and teeth. Eventually, they broke the kiss, panting for air. Dean leaned back and began working to remove Castiel’s tie before moving to the buttons of the man’s shirt.

Castiel used Dean’s distraction to his advantage, taking control of the situation as he swiftly flipped their positions and pinned Dean against the wall of the hotel room. His mouth covered Dean’s before he started kissing his way across his jaw and down the column of the man’s neck, listening to the sounds he made and lingering on Dean’s more sensitive spots. His hands started working on the buttons of Dean’s shirt and, when his fingers fumbled after only two buttons, Cas gave up and grabbed onto the shirt with both hands and pulled, scattering the buttons across the hotel carpet. When Dean groaned at the dominant action, Castiel smiled against his skin, knowing he had won control. He brought his mouth to Dean’s now pliant lips and plundered the man’s mouth with his tongue.

Dean moaned into the kiss and his hands moved back to Castiel’s shirt, finishing the job he had started and pushing the garment off of the man’s shoulders. He broke the kiss and walked Castiel back farther into the room. Dean dropped to his knees and unbuckled Castiel’s belt before popping the button on his pants. Dean groaned at the sight. Castiel had forgone underwear and Dean’s eyes were met with his already erect cock.

Dean knew he was good at sucking cock but he wanted to give Castiel the best damn blow job of his life. He took his time just looking at the other man. He took in Castiel’s length with just his eyes until the man above him began to squirm under Dean’s gaze. Dean lowered his head so that his mouth was hovering just out of reach of Castiel’s erection. He looked up at Cas through his eyelashes, Dean’s green eyes meeting Castiel’s blues, as his warm breath ghosted over the other man’s cock. Dean waited; sex was just as much of a mental game as it was physical and Dean was determined to engage all of Cas.

After a few more seconds of Dean staring, Cas let out out a sound that was somewhere between a whimper and a moan. With a wicked smile, Dean leaned forward and ran his tongue around the swollen head of Castiel’s cock, rewarding him with the contact he craved. No sooner had he begun, though, and he was pulling away. Cas emitted an undignified sound that could only be described as a whine and Dean chuckled as he leaned back to rest on his knees.

“Finish taking off your clothes and sit on the edge of the bed,” Dean commanded, “and don’t even think about touching yourself.”

Castiel didn’t usually take orders, especially in the bedroom, but, God, he wanted Dean’s mouth on him again so he scrambled to comply. He kicked off his shoes and quickly pulled off his socks before moving his hands to his waist and shimmying out of his well-fitting jeans. Cas tossed his clothes onto a chair and sat where he had been instructed, watching Dean, who had remained kneeling on the floor while he had stripped. Dean was still wearing his jeans but Cas could tell he had a significant bulge hidden under the constricting denim.

Dean cleared his throat and Castiel’s eyes darted from the man’s crotch to his face. Dean was smiling again, that same wicked, predatory, sexy smile from earlier. He locked eyes with Cas and slowly crawled - fucking crawled - over to the bed like a lion stalking its prey. Cas could hear the blood pounding in his ears as Dean’s face drew level with his erection and his breath hitched when the man’s talented, pink tongue darted out to wet his lips. Dean put his hands on Castiel’s knees and peered up at his lover. “Do you want this, sweetheart?” Dean asked, a playful glint in his eye.

“God, yes,” Cas breathed in reply. He wanted Dean and he wanted him to stop stalling.

“Mmm, I don’t know,” Dean teased as his hands slid up Castiel’s legs and began massaging his thighs, thumbs rubbing circles into the meat of his muscles. “That didn’t sound very convincing.” His warm breath crossed over Castiel’s erection and the man moaned in desperation.

“Dean, I want it, I want you,” Cas offered and he watched Dean’s smirk grow. “I want your mouth on me, please. Please,” Castiel knew Dean wanted him to beg and, right now, he wasn’t above it if begging was going to get things moving. “I need your lips and tongue on me, Dean. Your mouth is so beautiful.”

The complement finally tipped Dean over the edge and spurred him into action. With a groan, Dean practically lunged forward, taking Castiel’s cock deep in his mouth and reducing the blue eyed man’s words to a hiss. One of Dean’s hands wrapped around the base of his partner’s erection - he didn’t want to use all of his best tricks at the start - and he began pumping Cas in time with the movement of his mouth and tongue.

Dean hollowed his cheeks and bobbed his head back, releasing all but the tip of Castiel’s cock. He ran his tongue around the head and moaned at the salty taste of Cas. The vibrations shot through Cas and he groaned in response as Dean grabbed his hands and placed them on his head. Castiel’s fingers tightened in Dean’s hair as he looked down at him with lust blown eyes. Dean stared up at his lover as he slowly moved his head forward, engulfing Castiel’s cock in his warm mouth.

Cas felt his erection hit the back of Dean’s throat and expected Dean’s hand to join his mouth. Instead, Dean fixed him with a sexy stare and relaxed his muscles, taking Cas all the way down. Castiel was making the most sinful sinful sounds and his moans only got louder when Dean swallowed around him while one of his hands came up and fondled his balls.

Cas tugged on Dean’s short locks, pulling his mouth away. “I don’t… I want…” Cas panted, “I need to be inside of you.” Castiel gathered his wits and stood as he helped Dean to his feet. “The lube is still in my bag, I think.” He watched as Dean sauntered across the room and rummaged through his bag to find what they needed. As soon as he was back in reach, Cas grabbed Dean’s hips and threw him down onto the bed before crawling up his body and claiming his mouth with a bruising kiss. Cas took the bottle from Dean before kissing his way down the man’s toned body.

Cas paid special attention to Dean’s nipples as he made his way lower and lower. He ran his tongue along the waistband of Dean’s jeans before popping the button with his lips and grabbing the zipper between his teeth. Dean wasn’t the only one with a talented mouth, he mused.

Castiel slowly pulled the zipper down, never taking his eyes off of Dean’s. He brought his hands to his hips, tucking his fingers into the waistband of Dean’s pants and underwear, sliding both down his legs together.

Once Dean was finally naked, Castiel popped open the bottle of lube and slicked up two of his fingers. He settled himself between Dean’s legs and took his lover’s cock into his mouth as he began to gently prod at Dean’s hole with his middle finger. Cas sucked and teased Dean as he prepared the man to take his cock. He would push a finger into his first knuckle while sucking on just the head, releasing it as he drew his finger out. Cas repeated that action until Dean was panting and squirming above him, trying to simultaneous fuck himself down onto Castiel’s finger and push his cock deeper into the man’s mouth.

Cas chuckled around Dean and acquiesced to his lover’s desires… to an extent. He slipped his finger farther into Dean, using about half of it’s length to fuck in and out of him while he dipped his head lower, taking about half of Dean’s erection into his mouth. He hollowed out his cheeks and bobbed his head in time with the thrusts of his finger, never taking his eyes off of the man beneath him.

“Cas, come on,” Dean panted, “no more teasing.”

Castiel stared up into Dean’s face, a look of total desperation painted across his features. He took pity on his lover and inserted a second finger, slowly pushing both in, gently stretching and penetrating Dean’s ass as he swallowed down the man’s cock, taking it to the hilt. Cas moaned around Dean as one of the green eyed man’s hands threaded into his hair and tugged at his locks.

Dean’s hips bucked and with every thrust he pushed himself into Castiel’s warm mouth and then back onto his fingers. Dean shifted his hips, trying to line Cas up with his prostate but the infuriating man shifted with him. Dean groaned at the stimulation he was receiving and because what he wanted was just out of reach, which caused Cas to chuckle around his cock.

Castiel released Dean’s erection with a final, slow drag of his lips and tongue and pulled his two fingers from Dean’s ass. He poured more lube onto his hand and returned his fingers to Dean’s hole, gently thrusting two fingers in and out of his partner.

“Cas, come on,” Dean whined, “I’m ready.” His breathing was heavy and Castiel could barely see the green that ringed Dean’s lust blown pupils.

Cas smirked at Dean. “No you’re not and we both know it,” he replied, brushing his fingers against Dean’s prostate and causing the beautiful man to gasp in pleasure. Cas pumped his fingers with a little more speed now, bumping against the bundle of nerves every few thrusts and enjoying the sounds that spilled from Dean’s lips and the way his cock stiwched with every pass of Castiel’s fingers. Without any warning, Cas added a third finger and Dean groaned and hissed at the stretch. “Told you you weren’t ready for my cock,” he chuckled as he nailed Dean’s prostate again, using pleasure to numb the sting Dean was feeling. Cas continued stretching Dean until he was satisfied that he would be able to slide into his body without hurting the man.

Dean whimpered at the empty feeling when Cas removed his fingers. He shifted his hips on the bed, humping the air as Castiel lubed up his cock.

“If you miss my fingers that much, I could just keep fucking you with them,” Cas mused. He smiled down at Dean innocently as he spoke. Sure, he had been begging Dean earlier but he was enjoying teasing the man now that he had full control of the situation. Cas pressed two of his fingertips against Dean’s hole and his lover’s body welcomed him in. Dean’s face, on the other hand, was not quite as accommodating.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Dean ground out as Castiel’s fingers toyed with his entrance. He didn’t take his eyes off of Cas util he felt the blunt head of the man’scock replace his fingers on his ass. As Cas slowly pushed in, Dean’s head fell back and his jaw dropped open before he took his lower lip between his teeth and bit down on it. It was perhaps the most beautiful sight Castiel had ever seen.

Cas kept his pace slow but steady as he pressed into Dean’s warmth. His face was awash with pleasure as he reacted to the sensations Castiel’s cock was creating. Once he was fully seated inside of Dean, Cas paused to give the man a moment to adjust, trusting that he would let Cas know when he was ready.

Sre enough, Dean was squirming beneath him a few seconds later.

“You alright, baby?” Cas asked, wanting verbal confirmation from Dean along with his body language.

Dean nodded. “Yes, God yes,” he panted. “Please, just move. Fuck me, Cas, please.”

Castiel could hear the quiet desperation in Dean’s voice and decided that it needed to change. Desperation, yes. Cas liked that. But quiet... Well that part needed to go. Castiel pulled out of Dean almost all the way, waited for his lover’s body to catch up with the empty feeling again, and then quickly thrust forward, filling Dean with his cock and setting a bruising pace.

Dean was panting and moaning as a sheen of sweat covered his body but Cas still wasn’t happy with the noises he was drawing from the man. He tangled one of his hands in Dean’s hair and tugged on it in time with his thrusts. Dean reached out and returned the favor, pulling Cas down into a kiss and moaning his pleasure into the man’s plus mouth.

Cas nipped at Dean’s lower lip and kissed along his jaw as he changed the angle of his thrusts. The next time he drove his hips forward, Cas pounded into Dean’s prostate. Much to Castiel’s delight, Dean cried out into the hotel room and he found himself grateful that they had booked a suite, their bedroom didn’t share a wall with another guest’s room and he could continue to draw these kinds of noises from his lover without fear of disrupting anyone’s sleep.

As Cas continued fucking himself into Dean’s prostate, the shouts and profanities quickly devolved into gibberish. Castiel knew he was close to his climax so he brought his still lube slick hand between their bodies and began jerking Dean off.

“FUCK,” Dean shouted. “I’ gonna… I’m gonna…” he was sputtering, unable to finish his thought.

Cas pulled on Dean’s hair again as he continued pumping the man’s erection and thrusting into his body. “Do it, Dean. Let me hear you, love.”

The words and one final tug of his cock sent Dean over the edge into the bliss of his orgasm. He shouted his release into the room and Cas followed him soon after, filling Dean with his cum while Dean’s sprayed onto their chests.

Castiel collapsed on top of Dean for a few moments before he forced himself out of the bed so that he could clean them up. Once that was done, he crawled back in bed beside Dean and found himself enveloped within his lover’s strong arms.

Dean woke up the next day wrapped around Castiel. He inhaled deeply, taking in the man’s scent before he carefully shimmied out of the bed and made his way to the bathroom. He relieved himself and brushed his teeth before returning to the bedroom. He loved the quiet moments like this, when he could just lay beside Cas and watch him sleep. Dean slid back into the bed, doing his best to not wake the other man but the bed in the hotel room was much more springy than their mattress at home and the second round of bouncing caused Castiel’s eyes to flutter open.

Cas smiled sleepily at Dean, reaching out to cup his lover’s face

“Last night was fun,” Dean remarked, “pretending we didn’t know each other was fucking hot.” Dean paused for a moment, looking down as he grabbed Castiel’s hand before quietly adding, “and the wedding ring was a nice touch, Cas.” Dean was holding the other man’s left hand in his right and looking at the ring. He turned Castiel’s hand from side to side and watched the light shine over the silver colored metal. He didn’t want to admit it out loud but Dean kind of liked the look of the wedding band on Cas’s finger and how it’s presence told the world that the handsome man wearing it was spoken for.

“We are celebrating our fourth anniversary, Dean,” Cas commented. “Perhaps we should consider making jewelry like this a more permanent addition to our wardrobes.”

“Are you proposing, Cas?” Dean asked with a sly smile.

“Not at all, Dean,” Cas replied as he leaned forward and pressed his lips to his boyfriend’s, “but you certainly should.”

Destiel Tags from @mrswhozeewhatsis: @mrswhozeewhatsis @theficlibrarium @deandoesthingstome @thegleegeneration @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @ferferelli @fangirling-instead-of-working @chrisatplay @faith-in-dean @mamaimpala @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @curliesallovertheplace @skybinx-blog @purgatoan @impossible-box @deansleather @faegal04 @sunriserose1023 @dr-dean @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @saving-things-hunting-family @jotink78 @i-dont-know-how-to-write @notnaturalanahi @howmanytuesdaysdidyouhave @mysaintsasinner @besslincoln-bruh @shelovesallthethings @revwinchester @klaineaholic @hexparker @vintagevalentinexx @sis-tafics @meganwinchester1999

SPN Pond Destiel Tags: @manawhaat @dr-dean @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @notnaturalanahi @impala-dreamer @scorpiongirl1 @deandoesthingstome @jelly-beans-and-gstrings @mrswhozeewhatsis @sinceriouslyamellpadalecki @whywhydoyouwantmetosaymyname @chaos-and-the-calm67 @madamelibrarian @writingbeautifulmen @thewinchestielboys @drariana1737 @castieltrash1 @mysaintsasinner @ruined-by-destiel @deals-with-demons @faith-in-dean

#lovetheships #joys500 #supernatural fanfiction #spn fanfic #Destiel #spn smut #role play #dean winchester #castiel #dean x castiel #supernatural #SPN #impalasutra

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agentdagonet · 6 years ago

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Echoes, Ch. 20

Find it here on AO3

Find it here on tumblr: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19

Fic Summary: Feet dangling off the edge of the bed, hands still resting on the earpieces of his glasses, Eggsy opened his eyes.

And promptly shut them again, screwing them shut like a child who had the distinct misfortune of biting into a raw lemon. Breathing harshly in his nose and out his mouth, trying to stave off whatever delusional panic had befallen him, Eggsy reopened his eyes.

‘Harry?’

Or: The Hologram Story Nobody Asked For

Eggsy hadn’t realised how tense he’d been for the past few months. Well, no, he’d realised it just fine- he just hadn’t let himself accept it. He’d stopped wearing his glasses in the house- Harry had shut off Haz his first week back, but it had taken ages for Eggsy to stop expecting to see him around every corner. To stop avoiding that one spot in the sitting room, stop walking in complicated loops to avoid a program he could no longer see- but couldn’t unsee either. He had to stop himself from calling Harry “Haz” just out of habit a thousand times- but hoped that one day it would be easy as breathing to call his housemate by his given name and not the nickname he’d given a ghost who couldn’t object.

He and Harry had rearranged the Office a bit- tightened the spaces between Harry’s Sun covers to condense them to two walls, moved the coat rack and desk at an angle- so that the two of them could share the space. Eggsy now had a desk and walls of his own, the covers he’d been collecting in an album now displayed proudly behind him on the dark cream his corner had been painted. His desk was a mess compare to Harry’s- photos everywhere, haphazard pile of papers to one end, pint glass on the other that held a pair of Kingsman specs more often than water. It was perfect.

Eggsy’s belongings had begun to invade the rest of the house proper, too. Jacket on the rack by the door, a few art pieces he’d stumbled upon while abroad scattered into the spaces Merlin’s belongings had once occupied, PS4 in the TV cabinet; but most notable was a photograph of his dad on the mantle. He’d had one hidden in his room since he lived with his mum, and hadn’t really felt comfortable with it in the open to be honest. But he’d come back from a debrief with Merlin and thrown himself on the sofa, one arm flung over his eyes as the other groped for the blanket that lived in the sitting room. Having no success while blind, he’d sat up and stretched, opened his eyes and locked immediately on the newest addition to the room.

It wasn’t the photo he had hidden in his room, instead showing a laughing Lee, and a man Eggsy didn’t recognise. They had their arms about each other’s waists, eyes closed but faces turned toward one another, mouths wide open mid-guffaw. They were wearing the same kind of jumpsuits Eggsy and the others had during training- the other man must have been Lancelot. Eggsy’d read much about his escapades on paper (or computer screen) but had never felt compelled to find a picture of the man.

That picture saw his dad happy, something Eggsy hadn’t had the chance to see before. Between Dean’s destructive habits and the men who came before him, there weren’t any home videos left. The handful of pictures that were left were either in miserable condition or from his military days. This was something new and obviously well loved and cared for; something Harry and Eggsy shared, now out in the open.

Harry was glad to say that things were better now. He finally seemed to have found a balance between paperwork and vigilantism- and somehow this had only helped his leading capabilities. Being in the field now and again kept him from growing distant from the rest of the Knights and their accomplishments; kept him aware of strengths and weaknesses of his Knights.

His Knights. Still a strange concept, but one he was becoming more accustomed to. It was rather like herding cats- cats with access to explosives who could plan and reason, but cats nonetheless.

Merlin was still reluctant to send him into the field, but it wasn’t as if he could stop him. He was just certain not to be the voice in his ear complaining loudly about his ignoring instructions- but he was Arthur, and the only one holding him accountable with any sort of consequence was himself. If he wasn’t already so self motivated (pun intended) this would have been a bad thing, but as it was he had no problem with delegating tasks before gallivanting off on a mission himself.

He couldn’t deny having a bit more fun on missions than he ought, letting himself do things in a riskier but more entertaining way, no matter the amount of frustration it caused Merlin. He and Eggsy would have a laugh about it over dinner, or while mutually filling out paperwork in their office, and the process would repeat itself. Often enough Harry and Eggsy ended up on missions together ( ended up Harry thinks to himself, as if he did not specifically engineer it that way) that they’d developed an innate sense of each other’s movements.

An entire vernacular hidden in a few glances.

Roxanne and Merlin’s comments about fantasy notwithstanding, Eggsy was a remarkable agent. Oh, he certainly toed the line of rebellion quite frequently, but never outright crossed it. Once or twice he ignored the Lake completely- shut off his glasses or stuck them into a pocket- but he always came out on top. Harry was sure to have him explain every step of his thought process when he did that- both so the record showed he wasn’t doing it just to be a shit, and so that the Lake would see that they hadn’t had all the information. A little information went a long way toward healing any hurts and preventing retribution- faulty equipment was the difference between life and death. The Lake certainly knew that, but sometimes they would think a fault so minor that it would be nothing to worry about. Not all faults are created equal, and what may be minor technically may be major in the moment.

Merlin had grumbled about being made to test each piece of equipment himself, but only until Roxanne had one of her shoes malfunction mid-leap while in Uganda. Had she not noticed, or landed wrong, they’d be holding trials once again.

However, the paperwork to make all of this possible was still murder.

As such it was avoided for as long as possible, which meant that entire days had to be delegated specifically to that task. Sometimes this worked in his favour, wherein he avoided obligations he’d rather not do (though there were many things he wanted to do more than paperwork, facing Michelle Unwin was not on that list) but sometimes it did not.

Today was one of the latter.

‘Harry, we need to talk.’

‘Can’t you see I’m a bit busy?’ Harry deflected, gesturing vaguely at the piles of paperwork scattered about the dining table.

‘That can wait- you’ve been avoiding this for long enough.’

‘Paperwork can wait? How can I be certain you’re the real Merlin when you blaspheme so easily?’

‘This is serious, Harry. It’s about Eggsy.’

‘I could have told you that from the start- the way you and Roxanne walked about like a land mine was going to go off was a pretty good indicator. You two only ever do that around or about Eggsy- I’m not an idiot.’ Harry spoke calmly, trying to stave off the defensiveness he felt bubbling forth. Eggsy was a grown man who could fight his own battles- Harry had seen that personally- but he couldn’t help but want to make it absolutely obvious that he was in Eggsy’s corner. It had been far too long since Eggsy’d had someone to rely on and he wasn’t going to use Eggsy not being here as an excuse to not be his advocate.

‘I never said you were, but you’re definitely being an arse now. Put down the pen and look me in the eye.’ Harry sighed, pulled off his glasses, and met Merlin’s gaze evenly. ‘Now, I don’t know how much you know about-’

‘You’re trying to have me jump to a conclusion of what you actually want to discuss to save you the awkward moments of having to parse out your phrasing yourself.’

‘I’m not trying to manipulate you anywhere you ridiculous man, let me finish a bloody-’

‘Sentence?’ Harry smiled blandly as Merlin huffed, miming wringing Harry’s neck, before he threw himself down into a chair.

‘You’re a shit, and it’s a wonder you’ve lived this long- but I’m trying to use a bit of tact here-’

‘Well don’t. Say what you mean or don’t speak at all.’ Harry had very little patience left, between vigilantism and bureaucracy it was spent. Merlin was his oldest friend, and thus didn’t take the sharp words seriously, but they were rather unwarranted for being the beginning of a conversation.

‘Eggsy has an unhealthy attachment to you. And I’m about positive it only got exponentially worse after you passed, but he attached himself to you and your memory like a leech and I’m afraid there isn’t much of himself left.’ Merlin looked heartbroken, like something irreparable broken, and Harry couldn’t help but shake his head and laugh under his breath. All this, for something so supposed and assumed and frankly rather insulting.

‘What’s my favourite food, Merlin?’

‘What does-’

‘Answer.’

‘The stupid sandwich from the pub on the corner. With the pickles and onions and god knows what else stacked like a cartoon.’

‘And Eggsy?’

‘Fish and chips at the Black Prince.’

‘What’s his favourite book?’

‘Slaughterhouse Five.’

‘And mine?’

‘What sappy romance novel are you on now?’

‘Rude. How does Eggsy complete his missions?’

‘He listens until someone else is put at risk, and then does whatever he wants to get the job done.’

‘And how do I?’

‘You accomplish the objective, if you don’t let your temper get the better of you, and then you use whatever justification you must to cause menial chaos. If I’m lucky.’

‘Could you tell me what you’re worried about, again? A lack of individuality?’

‘You didn’t see him. You have no idea-’

‘You make a great many assumptions, Merlin.’

‘You were in a bloody coma.’

‘I didn’t get access to the internet and immediately send a message to you- I had other priorities.’ Harry didn’t particularly want to dwell on what made his priorities so skewed, but he had to make his point. ‘And after seeing the verity of what I’d been told about the Valentine situation, that was the top of my list.’ Merlin’s brows were raised, his mouth relaxed but his eyes keen.

‘I hope you’ll be elaborating?’

‘Did you really think my shenanigans ended with the Will? Honestly, I’d wonder if you knew me at all had we not had our time in Kentucky.’

‘You mean-’

‘It was a fully operational holo-setup. So the first thing I did was get into my own house’s systems- I caught Eggsy mid-conversation. With me. About sacrifice and worth and learning to be in the absence of guidance,’ Harry took a breath, steadying himself, ‘he said it was worth it. That Lee’s sacrifice was worth it, that he was somehow grateful for the things that made him who he is today.

‘He’s far more his own man than you’d care to realise. Yes, he lived in the house more as a caretaker than as an actual tenant, but that doesn’t mean he wasn’t himself. He’d never had to really mourn anyone prior to this, our relationship was left open-ended because I told him I would handle things when I got back; I half expect he’d have stayed in that house whether he’d been knighted or otherwise just because I told him to.

‘He had to learn how to mourn on his own; the people he could talk to about it with had support systems of their own, or had gotten the process down to an exact science. Eggsy couldn’t talk with anyone who hadn’t been there, and those who had been there had likely tired of his issues within a month or so. Patience is a virtue Kingsman give only to missions, and something like this takes nothing if not time.’ Merlin looked away, the tips of his ears red, and Harry knew he’d been spot on with his assessment- it took a lot to get past Merlin’s defenses, but shame… That was something they all knew too well.

‘He was in the Marines-’

‘He was training to be a Marine- do you remember why he quit halfway through? Michelle became pregnant, and was afraid. She called Eggsy while frightened and he dropped everything to go and help her.’ Harry waited until Merlin met his gaze again. ‘He only got caught the day he used his favour because he avoided hitting a fox, he leaves a dream career at the first hint that his mother needs him, refuses to shoot his dog but at the same moment points a gun to the man who ordered him to do so; what about these things does not display a man who feels things not too wisely, but too well?’

‘He had Roxy; they went through training together, he helped her push through her fears so she could continue on in the trials. And she was there for V-Day, she knew everything.’ Merlin’s reasonings sounded weak once put out into the world. Inside his head he had justified his actions regarding Eggsy in the wake of V-Day, but he knew they were hollow. ‘Certainly she was there for him.’

‘Lancelot had just succeeded in her uncle’s place- a man she had gotten no chance to mourn herself.’ Harry spoke slowly, his diction precise, as if explaining things to a person who had a great habit of missing the important pieces of a story.

Merlin felt like an idiot, but he figured everyone had to at one point or another.

Here he was trying to warn Harry of the unhealthy attachment Eggsy had formed to his ghost and had instead been faced with his own shortcomings that drove him there. If there was an unhealthy attachment between Eggsy and the holograms, it was at least in part caused by himself.

But, maybe Harry had a point, and there wasn’t much to worry about after all.

#dagonet writes #echoes fic #kingsman fanfiction #kingsman

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dialogue-with-varyu · 8 years ago

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SUPERNATURAL THE ANIMATION: A Dissection of Dean’s Failed Characterization & Design (PART 1 - The Technicals)

I have a lot on my chest about the anime that I couldn’t really get into in both of my last posts since the topic of what makes the anime series so cringe-worthy is a very intricate one, making the explanation of it all become a SERIES OF ESSAYS. So please read my previous installments before getting into this one because I will be referencing those a lot:

SUPERNATURAL THE ANIMATION: A THESIS OVERVIEW ON JAPANESE ANIME PRODUCTION & CHARACTER DESIGN

SUPERNATURAL THE ANIMATION: THE IMPORTANCE COLOR DESIGN BRINGS TO VISUAL TONE

But anyway, let’s talk about Dean. I’m gonna talk about Dean.

I will talk about Dean because Sam was portrayed pretty okay in the anime and it’s really Dean’s characterization that strikes a chord with a lot of fans of the original Supernatural series. (However I will consider a separate Sam essay to those in favor of it.)

But I haven’t really seen a lot of people put into words about makes them feel the way they do. So what’s the problem with Dean?

Refresher:

While I understand this distinction, I think that we can all agree that the overall interpretation of Dean suck balls and I’d like to argue that:

rather than misinterpreting Dean’s character, the writers were more focused on one of Dean’s major facades and ran with it.

But I’m getting ahead of myself.

First, I’d like to address the elephant in the room: Why an anime series?

Why did Supernatural garner enough attention to GET an anime series? What is so special about Supernatural AND anime that a large group of creatives and investors were willing to marry the two?

Honestly, that question is big enough for another essay on it’s own. But the bottom line is:

Anime is watched for the melodrama.

Nuance and subtitles are more akin to live action film since the culture around the different intricacies of a story have larger factors that contribute to it. (i.e, it doesn’t matter what’s written because an actor may just ad-lib it, Murphey’s Law, etc.)

So basically, when you have an animated show what you see is what you get by convention. There really is no use arguing over what is canon and what is not because, unlike an actor, decisions and change of mind can’t be attributed in the moment when it comes to character performance. People are more likely to question the mindset of a decision behind a scene when it’s animated more often than leaving it to the death of the author.

But it’s because of this that anime often has namely traits of exaggeration: screaming characters crying about their passion in the heat of battle, long ass internal monologues, “-dere” archetypes, the works.

Which means that anime characters are usually walking talking hyperbolic symbols. (Whether or not you enjoy this is usually the deciding factor between anime fans and those who are not.)

And this ties directly into Dean.

Because Dean in the anime series is an exaggeration of himself from the original show.

Rather, an exaggeration of one specific facade:

The facade Dean pulls up in season one episode 1. The fake Dean that tends to overcompensate his insecurities with bravado.

WHY this scene in particular is one that actually makes sense.

Mostly because this scene IS a if not THE root scene that cemented Dean Winchester’s starting point launching endless possibilities of character traits to be explored for seasons to come. It’s a highly impacted scene that’s very memorable, both in it’s first impressions and as a point of reference for his development.

I infer that the writers of the anime series saw this and built upon their own impressions of it. Namely, they saw this facade and thought this was the True Dean Winchester. (Which, to those who have watched past season 2, know is very far from the truth.)

So how did they write Dean Winchester?

Dean Winchester is perceived to be like a generic anime bad boy

(I say “perceived” since by all means the Supernatural anime is a reinterpretation with very deliberate changes.)

What I’m talking about are those “thug” type bullies in every school centered anime show.

And while I make the claim that the writers may have built off of the scene from the pilot in painting a picture of Dean’s character in their heads, I’m also led to believe that this decision to have Dean come off as a “thug” is less of a conscious choice...

...and more of a conventional one.

Because nothing fits Fake Bravado Dean like Generic Anime Thug Dude when it comes to a script laden with anime-like tropes.

(To make a more compelling dissection of the writer’s true interpretation of Dean SPECIFICALLY would require me to rewatch and analyze ALL of the anime’s original standalone episodes.

...for the sake of brevity and the fact that I don’t want to rewatch any of the anime’s episodes in it’s entirety because I can’t stand even 5 seconds of this animated drivel I Am Not Going to Do That unless a lot of people ask about it or if people just wanna see me suffer.)

But okay, it’s sort of weird to gauge the errors of Dean’s characterization when this anime series nearly follows the original show’s 1st and 2nd season’s storylines verbatim.

Now that I think about it, it’s even weirder to be so allergic to an interpretation of a character when the source material is being 99.9% faithfully adapted--especially with the same lines and set up. So what gives?

What makes anime Dean’s characterization so off from the original to a drastic degree?

The “mischaracterization” is greatly tied into Dean’s character design and the way he emotes--which affects him greatly on the narrative of the anime series as a whole.

I already criticized the character designs in the lack of coherence in color design as well as execution narratively, but the latter still stands to be a huge major problem since it does just that.

Affect the narrative.

Which means it also affects the characters and the themes.

Which ties back again to Dean being perceived as an anime thug.

And I know this because Dean makes the same goddamn faces as an anime thug.

(In this case I’ll be referencing Space Dandy since I can’t find generic anime examples of side characters that embody this profile despite this stereotype and it’s mannerisms invading vast amounts of shows. However anyone who has seen enough anime will know what I’m talking about. And again, the “look” given by the artistic nuances/techniques of the character design of the anime series is not very original.)

You know what, as an aside I’m just going to throw in the fact that Space Dandy’s “look” is very similar to to the spn anime down to the BL shadows in which Dandy is compared with Redline

And that Jessica is totally generically designed

Anyway, this extends further than Dean’s facial expressions alone.

It extends to his wardrobe which totally starts to unhinge Dean’s persona. oddly enough.

So here’s a round of nit-picking

Why in god’s name is Dean wearing sunglasses indoors? He already went through an entire spiel about ineffectiveness at night

and it’s not like having it indoors makes it any less ridiculous. And yes, he does wear them again in later seasons both unironically and ironically

But these cues of character insight (that people have written far better meta for) is in the context of later seasons and I highly doubt the anime production team could’ve predicted any of this so I’m just going to have a giant ????? over this.

Back to this awful screenshot again.

But seriously, anyone shirtless in the snow deserves to die of hypothermia.

Dean is the last person to feel comfortable with minimal clothing due to years of sexual harassment/assault from CREATURES more often than not

Even more so whenever Dean is naked, it’s used more for vulnerability over titillation:

I hate this stupid screenshot.

It is awful, why? Because anime characters rarely stray from their trope mannerisms unless the story calls for it, or the animators dedicate some time to create impressive sakuga for novelty’s sake. If Dean has body language like this now, that mean’s he’s likely going to exhibit it again no matter what the context is in terms of story or character.

Leading to this abomination.

I know what you are doing. I get it. I KNOW.

I KNOW YOU’RE DRAWING DEAN THIS WAY BECAUSE APPARENTLY TO YOU DEAN IS AN ANIME THUG WHICH MEANS ANIME THUGS EXHIBIT THIS KIND OF UNCARING BODY LANGUAGE BUT NEED WE FORGET THAT DEAN LOVES HIS CAR MORE THAN LIFE ITSELF

HAVING HIS SHOES AGAINST THE SEAT OR ANYWHERE NEAR THE LEATHER IS THE SAME AS DEFECATING ON IT. ARE YOU SERIOUS RN??? THAT’S LIKE THE ONE THING DEAN WINCHESTER IS ALL ABOUT AND IS SOMETHING THAT SHOULD NOT BE FORGOTTEN ESPECIALLY WHEN IT CAME TO DEVELOPMENTS OF DEMON!DEAN

This...this shit I can’t forgive. This is so absent-minded it physically hurts me. I can’t be the only one bothered by this.

Addendum: I don’t even really care if that’s NOT the impala (in this episode of the anime Sam and Dean were thrown into the backseat of a police car.) I still don’t think Dean would EVER exhibit this sort of body language in any car.

It also still doesn’t excuse the lack of variety in Dean’s emoting and body language as a whole. You could do so much storytelling in his body language (since Jensen Ackles is a master at that) but they instead chose to stick with a template of a character and never strayed from it.

But...I digress.

Incidentally of all places Yuri!! On Ice has closer character designs of Sam and Dean that for some virulent reason exists (Also incidentally, if you so much as breathe the title of YOI you will be immediately blocked I am not joking around. Don’t test me.)

As does Yami Shibai

So it’s not like a competent/more modern design tailored to anime is impossible.

It is very possible. So if you have your defense that the character designs of the spn anime are inherently horrible BECAUSE it’s supposed to “look anime” you’re probably just suffering from media illiteracy.

However, again, I made claim that the “style” of the Supernatural anime character designs are not what make it fail.

It’s the execution of nuances that killed it--both visually and narratively. And I still stand by that.

To form examples, that means more design redraws!!!

However, the redraws this time around will have it’s own separate post since the inner working of what can make or break a design will be discussed and demonstrated there.

SEE YOU IN PART 2!!!

#whelvenwings #supernatural the animation #supernatural #spn meta #spn anime

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