#do you think dean winchesters back is supporting him curling up in a little ball? no! thats not comfortable!

[just-spacetrash]

📖

[ltleflrt]

#33 for the prompt thing ❤️

33. On a post-it note (Also on AO3)

Dean is not an optimist.  How can he be, when life literally only hands him lemons?  Dead mom, deadbeat dad, a little brother who ran off to college half a continent away while Dean slogged through tech support calls to pay for what Sam’s fancy scholarship doesn’t cover.  Hell, he can’t even use the tuition reimbursement benefit from his own job because he works so much overtime to make ends meet.

And tech support is a miserable ass job.  Some days he wonders if it would be better for his mental health to quit this place and go turn tricks.  Maybe he could find himself a sugar daddy who’ll appreciate his pretty lips and perky nipples.  

When his watch beeps the one minute warning for the end of his break, he sighs mournfully over the loss of his fantasy daddy and the naps he’d get to take while not busy bending over for someone who actually appreciates the position he’s in.  Time to go back to the phones, and bend over for Corporate America instead.  

At least the insurance is good, and the 401k will be worth it someday.

And there’s Cas.

A smile ticks up Dean’s lips as he nears his desk and sees his boyfriend spinning back and forth in his chair, head tilted back on the seat, headset on and messing up the neat part Castiel’s hair had started the day with.  One of his long fingers is curling in and out of the headset cord, and he sounds far less bored than he looks as he walks his customer through installing a software update.

“Yes, ma’am it does take a few minutes.  There’s a lot of files to unpack.” Blue eyes look up as Dean sneaks past him to get to his own desk.  One eye drops closed in a wink.

Dean makes a kissy face at him as he settles down in his own chair and pulls his headset on.  Then he turns to his computer with another defeated sigh as he reaches for the keyboard to log in.  But he’s distracted by a neon green post-it with familiar handwriting.

Good things DO happen!

Unlike Dean, Castiel is optimistic as fuck.  

Rolling his eyes, Dean snatches up the post-it and crumples it into a ball.  He tosses it at Cas, nailing him right in the nose, and making him scramble for the mute button before his laughter bursts free.  

“Watch it, Winchester,” Cas murmurs into the space between their desks.  “I’ll get you back for that.”

“Ain’t scared,” Dean counters as he types in his login info.  He casts a glance at Castiel as his headphones beep and his automated greeting plays for the customer on the line.

Castiel beams back at him.  “Yes, ma’am, let the computer restart.”

Dean grins back, and the smile carries through in his voice as he begins his call.  He hopes this one gets a survey, because they’re going to be pleased as punch with him.  He always does great on his surveys now that he and Cas have stopped dancing around each other and actually made things official.  It’s been the best six months of his life, and not even the really nasty customers can completely bring him down.

He forgets all about Castiel’s threat until he comes in a few days later to find his desk plastered with post-its of all different colors.  They cover the monitor and the keyboard and his Cisco phone.  The whole tiny surface of his desk is covered in a rainbow of little flaps of paper.  They’re even all over his chair, even down to the wheels.  

His team members all cast him expectant looks, mostly with gleeful smiles.  Even Frank, his crotchety old bastard of a supervisor is grinning.  Kaia is holding up her phone, and he knows there’s going to be pictures or a video of his reaction plastered all over social media today.

“Hm, I wonder who did this,” Castiel says mildly from behind Dean.

“Very funny, Cas,” Dean mutters as he starts plucking post-its from the seat of his chair.  He’d like to be able to at least sit down while he cleans up this mess.  “How many pads did you go through for this?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” Castiel’s poker face belongs at a high stakes table in Vegas.  Even though it’s clearly his handwriting on the post-its, and his signature Good thinks DO happen! written all over them, Dean nearly almost believes him.  

With a disbelieving snort, Dean starts clearing away post-its.  He tries for all of thirty seconds to seem annoyed by the work, but he can’t hold back the dopey smile as he cleans up the mess.  

As he’s clearing the last of them from his monitor his hand freezes as he comes across one post-it that says something different from all the rest.  He plucks it from the monitor, and stares down at it.  Three little words, followed by a dorky little heart.  They haven’t said it to each other yet, but Dean knows he’s already there.  And his heart swells with affection as he holds the confirmation that the sentiment is returned pinched between his fingers.

He sticks it to the bottom of his monitor, where it’ll be easy to see, but out of his way.  And then he slides open his desk drawer and grabs a yellow pad of post-its.  He writes the words slowly, gently.  And then rolls his chair over into Castiel’s space.  He waits until Castiel looks up at him, and the shy smile on his face makes Dean even more sure that he means what he’s about to do.

He sticks the post-it right in the center of Castiel’s monitor.

I love you too, sweetheart <3

[holylulusworld]

Nothing to offer

Summary: You are in love with a certain alpha. Your best friend supports you – or so you thought.

Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x Omega!Ruby

Characters: Jo Harvelle, Lisa Braeden

Warnings: angst, unrequited love, pining, friends to lovers, Lisa being a bitch, sad reader, smut, unprotected sex, scenting, knotting, claiming

Kinktober Special: A/B/O

Text divider by @writeyourmindaway​

Kinktober 2020

Tonight is the night. Tonight, you are going to admit your feelings to Dean, the alpha you fell in love with almost three years ago.

Lisa, your best friend, helped you decide on a yellow sundress and matching heels. Usually, you don’t wear heels or make-up outside of business meetings and weddings but tonight is special to you.

Your heart thunders in your chest, your lip twitches nervously and you tug at the seam of your dress, waiting for your friend to show.

“Y/N,” Sam smiles at you, already wrapping his arms around you to hug you tightly. “Why are you outside? Lisa and the others are inside, waiting.”

“What?” Dumbfounded you gape at Sam. “Lisa said I shall wait for her, outside.” You shuffle on your feet, wondering why your friend didn’t wait for you.

“She’s here for three or four hours,” Ruby sighs, tugging at Sam’s wrist. “What?”

“Sam,” Ruby grits her teeth, knowing you don’t want to hear what your friend did. “Didn’t I tell you to shut your mouth before you say something dumb?”

“Dumb? I…I…,” Sam’s eyes widen when he drinks your outfit in. You never wear make-up or dresses. “Oh-shit, no…”

Before Sam can react you walk into Dean’s bar, the bunker, to give him your birthday present. Your heart still races when you step further into the bar.

“Y/N, hey-erm,” your heart drops, just like the bottle of whiskey in your hands when you must watch your best friend greedily kiss the man you love with all your heart. Her arms around his neck, her tongue down his throat Lisa purrs against his lips. “I’m so sorry…” Jo places one hand onto your shoulder but you jerk it off.

“I’m…yeah-I think I’ll leave and never come back,” you turn on your heels. You are half-way out of the bar before Ruby can call your name.

“Fucking great,” Jo mutters, looking at the now ruined expensive whiskey. “She wanted to tell him today. I heard her talking to Lisa, her friend,” Jo spats the last word. “Did you know?”

“I had no clue, Jo,” Sam stammers, watching his brother shove Lisa off him. “I don’t think she’ll ever come back."I believed Dean finally found his omega,” Ruby runs one hand over Sam’s back to calm the angry alpha. “My brother deserves happiness and here he stands, kissing the wrong omega – again.”

“It wasn’t Dean’s fault, Sam. As far as I can tell, Lisa was all over him for hours. When I left for a moment she pounced on him and kissed Dean,” Jo says. “I should clean the mess.”

“Sammy, Ruby! Finally, you are here,” Dean grumbles, making a beeline around Lisa to avoid getting too close to the clingy omega. “Who dropped a bottle?”

“Well, uh-you see,” Jo shakes her head, pointing at the lipstick on Dean’s lips. “Y/N didn’t feel well, and the bottle slipped out of her hands. She says happy birthday but had to go.”

Sam lies, Dean knew he does the moment his brother opens his mouth. Dean just wonders why his brother would lie about you being sick. “Why didn’t she say hi?”

“I don’t know, Dean. Maybe as her best friend had her tongue down your throat and Y/N believed you don’t want her to disturb the intimate moment,” Ruby storms toward the bar to pour herself a drink. “Fucking idiots. Alphas are so blind…”

“What’s wrong?” Lisa coos, a grin on her red lips. “Where’s my friend? Did Y/N not make it to the bar?”

“She came. Saw her best friend and left for good. If your plan was to ruin your friendship ��� well done, Lisa,” Jo joins Ruby at the bar, sighing deeply. “I believed she will finally found a nice guy.”

“Y/N, she deserves better than Lisa or Dean,” Ruby slams her now empty glass onto the counter. “Alphas are assholes. Believe me, Sam is the acceptation.”

Dean chuckles at his brother’s girlfriend’s words but he can’t shake the feeling off that you left as there is more than a cold bugging you. “Maybe I should call Y/N and ask her how she’s doing?”

“I can do so,” Lisa smiles sweetly but Ruby groans, throwing a napkin at your friend. “Wait a minute. I’ll go outside, Deano. Y/N doesn’t like it when too many people listen to our conversations.”

“I can imagine,” Ruby spats, now aiming her glass at Lisa’s head. “If not for Dean’s birthday…” the omega slurs. “I should’ve killed ya, bitch.”

“Don’t act like a toddler, Y/N,” Lisa laughs, pressing her phone closer to her ear to hear every sob leaving your lips. “Did you honestly believe an alpha like Dean would be interested in you? I did you a favor by seducing him. He’s too rough and demanding for a shy little girl. Look for that nice guy. Maybe a beta would match your personality.”

Dean feels like he’s frozen to the spot. He wants to say something, but his lips won’t move. “Y/N, darling,” Lisa smirks, chuckling when she hears you started to cry. “I’m sorry to tell you but you wouldn’t be able to take his knot or know how to satisfy a man like Dean. Stop crying and face reality. You never were meant to be.”

On the other end of town, you drop the phone, hiding your face in the palms of your hands while Lisa keeps on talking. She told you that Dean barely knows you and that if you come to the bar always stands far away to not catch your scent.”

“Good thing I saved you from making a move. Dean would’ve laughed about you, Y/N. Cry a little, eat ice cream and stop bugging me with your love life,” Lisa ends the call. When she enters the bar again, Dean is long gone…

“Sammy, where does Y/N live?” Dean pants, running toward his car. “I need to know her address. I…I’m already on my way.”

“I don’t think it’s a good idea to show up at her home, Dean. Y/N is hurt and vulnerable now. Give her a few days to calm,” Sam grunts when Ruby takes the phone out of his hands.

“Listen and listen carefully, Winchester. If you do not intend on making Y/N yours stay away from her or I’ll cut your cock off,” Ruby smirks, patting her alpha’s chest. “Good, you better do so.” Sam furrows his brows at his omega’s words. “If you lied and don’t want to claim her, I’ll kill you.”

“Give me the phone, Ruby,” Jo smirks, running off with Sam’s phone. “She lives…” After giving Dean your address, Jo warns the alpha too. “You better not hurt our girl. Tell her Ruby and I said hi.”

“Give me back my phone, Jo!” Sam snarls. He holds out his hand, a frown on his face. “You all should stay out of other people’s love life.”

“If we would’ve done so, Samuel, you and Ruby would still dance around each other,” Jo giggles at Sam’s pissed expression. “Now shut up and let Rubes and me enjoy we are great matchmakers.”

“Thank you,” Dean smiles, giving your landlord, an elder lady, a wink. “My omega forgot to leave me a key. I was on a business trip and you know, I missed my mate,” your landlord giggles, even slaps Dean’s chest.

“You are a bad boy, Mr. Winchester,” she snickers. “No noise complaints, young man. I know young love is passionate, but I don’t want to come up here again.”

“I promise we’ll be as silent as possible,” keys in his hands Dean turns his attention back toward your door. “We will not cause any trouble.”

“Goodnight, Mr. Winchester,” Dean opens your door, hastily stepping inside. “I hope you’ll keep your word.”

“Y/N? Sweetheart?” Low wails catch Dean’s attention. His heart drops seeing you curled into a ball on your bed. “Omega?”

You don’t lift your head when Dean enters your bedroom. “I was worried, Y/N. Why did you just leave? I wanted to see you tonight, but you were gone.” Dean knows why you left but he wants to hear the words leave your lips.

“Go back to your friends and Lisa,” you whimper. Hiding your face in your pillow you try to suppress the sobs leaving your lips. “I’m no one to you and I got nothing to offer. You’re at the wrong girl's place.”

“Listen,” Dean shrugs his jacket off, eying your trembling form warily. “If you don’t stop, you’re going to get sick.”

“Why should you care? I’m only a girl who used to come to your bar. Lisa was the one dragging me to the bunker every weekend. Just go back to your girlfriend,” your voice cracks and you need to gather all your strength to not shake when Dean kicks his shoes off.

“I can scent your desperation, omega. You need to stop,” the alpha tries again but your mind won’t stop spinning around the image Lisa burned into your memory. “Y/N, please.”

You don’t look at Dean, nor do you say another word when breathing becomes difficult. “I…I don’t want you here. Get out,” you choke out, fisting your blanket. “Go…”

“No way, sweetheart,” Dean lifts your blanket to join you on your bed. He scoots closer to wrap his arms around your now trembling body. “Relax. I’m here and won’t go away, Y/N.” He whispers against your mating gland. “Tell me why you ran away.”

“Lisa said she’ll help me talk to the alpha I like,” you mumble. Sobs leave your lips remembering how she encouraged you to admit your feelings to Dean. “I bought a dress and wore make-up only for you.”

“I bet you looked pretty,” Dean hums against your skin, kissing your mating gland. “You always look pretty, though.”

“I waited outside for Lisa to show. When I entered the bar you were kissing Lisa and I knew, I don’t stand a chance. I’m sorry for believing I have something to offer to an alpha like you,” you sniffle, ashamed you acted like a love-sick teen.

“It wasn’t me kissing Lisa, and, I didn't kiss her back. She pounced on me, pressed her lips to mine and I was too shocked to react. I pushed her away the moment you dropped the bottle of whiskey,” His warm chest against your skin Dean closes his eyes.

“You should go back to her,” you whisper again but Dean won’t budge. “Go home, Dean. I’m fine, really. It’s not the first time I feel rejection. It just gets harder with every passing year.”

“Sweetheart,” the alpha huffs, pressing his erection into your ass. “Does this feel like rejection to you? I’m always aroused close to you. I don’t want Lisa, never wanted her, Y/N. I want you. I love the way you lean against the old jukebox to dance to silly songs. I like how you giggle when you find something funny and, I like how you look at me.”

“You saw me watching you,” whining you hide your face in the palms of your hands. “I’m sorry, alpha.”

“Say that again,” Dean husks, grinding into your ass. “Please…”

“Sorry?”

“No…my presentation. Call me alpha again, baby. Please call me your alpha again,” you shiver as Dean’s lips travel along your neck. “Please, sweetheart.”

“Alpha?”

“Again.”

“You’re my alpha, Dean.”

“Again.” He bites your neck playfully, rutting into you now. “Again.”

“You are my alpha, Dean.”

“Yes, I’m your alpha,” he growls, hand slipping into your panties. “No one can touch you. No one will hold you like this. No one will even dare to look at my omega.”

“I’m yours, Dean,” you cry out, head lolling back the moment Dean slips two fingers into your slick entrance. “Only yours.”

“Only mine,” voice hoarse Dean rubs his erection against your ass, hoping for any kind of friction. “Gonna knot this tight little cunt. You’re my birthday gift.”

You’re dizzy from his scent, his lips against your throat, and the way his cock drives wildly into you.

“You’re mine, always were meant to be mine,” Dean growls, hands gripping your thighs to spread you wider. “I’m gonna knot you good, ‘mega.” Unlike other alphas, Dean wants to see your face, wants to watch you fall apart underneath him.

“Dean,” your blunt nails dig into his back, leave angry red lines on their way down to his ass. “I’m so close, alpha,” your hands grip his ass, and Dean smirks at your boldness.

“I knew you’re my dirty girl,” he muses, bumping his nose against yours. “Love how you feel, Y/N.” Grunts leave the alpha’s lips when you start to meet his thrusts. “Love you.”

“Oh-god,” his teeth sink into your mating gland and you come right there and then, digging your nails deep into Dean’s flesh. You start to tremble, cry out profanities as he won’t let up until his knot starts to form at the base of his cock.

“Mine,” he purrs against the mark he left, licking the little wound eagerly. His cum fills your belly, making it bulge. “My omega,” Dean whines against you, body shuddering through his orgasm.

“That was,” you giggle, hiding your face in Dean’s shoulder when he wraps his arms around you. “I liked it, a lot.”

“Your first knot is always the best – especially if it’s mine,” Dean lifts his head, a grin on his lips. “You know, mine is the last you’ll get.”

“I know,” you husk the words against Dean’s lips, breathing ‘alpha’. “I don’t want any other alpha. I only want you, Dean.”

“Never say you’ve got nothing to offer,” he whispers. “You’ve got a beautiful smile, a strong will, the softest voice, a pussy to die for.” You slap the back of his head at the word ‘pussy’. “Ouch, it’s true. I like it a lot…”

Lisa lazily leans against the counter, watching Dean stroll back into the bar. His hair is still damp from the shower you shared. His lips kiss-swollen and to Lisa’s disappointment Dean’s fingers are interlaced with yours.

“Dean, where have you…” Sam smirks when his eyes drop to the fresh claiming mark at your neck. “I see you didn’t waste a minute.”

“I got my girl,” Dean purrs. He wraps one arm around your waist to lead you toward his favorite table. “Jo, the next rounds are on me. Everyone drinks for free tonight, except for Lisa.”

“What?” Lisa looks up at Dean, whimpering as the alpha steps closer. “I…I”

“You are not welcome here anymore. Leave my bar, forget you ever met Y/N and don’t you dare to ever call my girl. Out,” Dean jerks his head toward the door.

“Swing your ass out of our bar,” Ruby slams her glass onto the table, ready to attack Lisa. “I dare you to wait any longer.”

Lisa’s eyes land on your claiming mark when you try to calm your alpha. “She’ll never satisfy your needs, Dean.”

“Firstly, I give a shit on your opinion and,” Dean smirks, running his hand over your belly, “she already took my knot. I can tell, she’ll be round with my pups soon. I’ll have her every day and night. Now out.”

“Out…out…out,” Jo singsongs, slamming a baseball bat onto the table. “Last chance or my lovely skull tamer will hit your ugly face…”

Whilst Lisa runs for the hills, your alpha slings his arm back around your waist, leading you toward the table Jo prepared.

“Happy birthday to me. Tonight, you made me the happiest alpha.”

“Happy birthday, Dean.”

SPN Forever Tags

@donnaintx

@screechingartisancashbailiff

@fallen-wolf22

@sister-winchesters99

@mogaruke

@the-is13

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@moosekateer13​

@miss-nerd95​

@caffeinefueledfangirl​

@fanatic343

@vicmc624​

@mariaenchanted​

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

Dean/Jensen Forever Tags   

@spnfamily-j2​

@supernatural-bellawinchester​

@negans-lucille-tblr​

@deans-baby-momma​

@thefaithfulwriter​

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@multisuperfandom​

@jason-todd-squad​

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@psychicforest​

@luciathewinchestergirl​

@magssteenkamp​

@tranquility-or-chaos​

@jxackles​

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@rintheemolion​

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@nihilismworld​

@peaches007​ wil

[writethelifeyouwant]

Get Down

Summary: Another Winchester x Jody fill for the kink bingo - a follow on from “Thanks for the Pie” but can be read as a standalone.

Pairing: Sam x Jody Rating: 18+ Tags: dom!Sam, oral sex (m rec) , fingering (f rec), fuck buddies, neighbors, non hunting AU Word Count: 502 Created for: @spnkinkbingo - JodySam | @anyfandomgoesbingo - Fuck Buddies | @samwinchesterbingo - Neighbours

Jody looks up from her bite of pie with a confused expression on her face. The doorbell rings again and she pushes away from her dish and heads towards the door. Sam Winchester, Dean’s slightly taller little brother, is standing on the doormat, a knowing smirk on his face.

“Hey, Jodes.”

“Heya, Sam,” Jody answers, just shy of suspicious. “What can I do for ya?”

“You can get down,” Sam growls, pushing Jody back into the corridor and pressing her up against the wall, jostling picture frames on their way. His hands latch onto her shoulders and shove down, putting her on her knees, brown doe-like eyes blinking up at him invitingly.

“To what do I owe the pleasure?” Jody doesn’t wait for Sam’s answer before going for his belt and button.

“I saw Dean leave here about half an hour ago,” Sam grins down at her and runs his fingers through the short, spiky hair Jody hasn’t had a chance to brush since her earlier rendezvous with Dean. “Figured you’d still be free,” he shrugs.

“How presumptuous of you,” Jody laughs. Her hand reaches into Sam’s boxers and pulls out his cock, already hard. He must have been thinking about this before he came to knock on the door.

Sam sighs heavily when Jody leans forward and suckles on the head of his cock, pulling back with a string of spit still connecting him to her lips, the head of his dick red and shiny.

“You get down on your knees for Dean, too?” Sam asks nonchalantly, eyes slipping closed as Jody sucks him down as far as she’s able to. Her hands come up to grip the base of his dick where she can’t reach with her lips, and hums negatively around his flesh. “Save this just for me?” Sam grins smugly, eyes still squeezed closed against the sloppy, wet pleasure encasing his member.

“Dean went down on me, actually,” Jody replies, pulling Sam out of her mouth and licking him from root to tip, pausing to slip the tip of her tongue into the slit at the crown of his cock, tasting the salty precum there.

“What a gentleman,” Sam chuckles, hissing as Jody drops her head to suck at his balls.

“Exactly what I said,” Jody smiles up at Sam, holding his gaze as she licks at his cock hungrily. Sam pulls at her hair, drawing her lips off him and hoists her to her feet. His long fingers go for the buttons on her jeans, pulling them down unceremoniously and rubbing his fingers across the crotch of her panties, now thoroughly soaked with her own slick and his brother’s cum.

Sam curls his fingers into the sopping material, running them through the puddle of sticky liquid and easing them up inside her. Jody gasps as he pulls his hand forwards, pressing against her g-spot.

“Can’t have him outdoing me, can I?” Sam asks like he doesn’t have his hand inside of her.

“Well then, get down Winchester.”

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All SPN: @cemini-winchester @akshi8278 @stoneyggirl @deandreamernp @lyarr24 @lovealways-j @slamminmine @all-alone-he-turns-to-stone @eddiesgirl @raidens-realm @tatted-trina6 @defenderrosetyler @delightfullykrispypeach @05supernatural20

[bumbleberrysky]

alexa, play candyshop (bass boosted) | 04

pairing: gabriel x reader genre: soulmate au, canon divergent around s13, hurt/comfort, humour, future smut (probs) wc: 3k rating: sfw warnings: none really

You knew there was a reason some divine power brought you to the Winchesters all those years ago, but to this day you still have no idea what that reason is. It’s something you’re destined to find out soon though, especially when you return to the bunker after months away and find not only a new face, but one that belongs to someone who up until that point you’d thought was dead. What does his return have to do with the changes you’re suddenly experiencing in yourself? Will you finally find out the reason you’d been brought here in the first place? Maybe… Chuck works in mysterious ways after all.

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“Alright, Jack, I’m going to show you something really important, something you can’t tell anyone about. Not even Dean. Alright?”

The blonde before you hastily nods, eyes wide as he gives you his whole attention. It’s almost childlike, the way he puts everything he has into every activity he does—even nodding to show you he’s listening to what you’re saying.

You know that he is being truthful, and that if you ask him he won’t tell a soul, but for effect you keep your eyes trapping his own, just for a few moments longer. When you’ve ‘deemed’ him trustworthy enough, you let your expression drop into a smile and you smack your hand affectionately against his bicep.

“Great! I knew I could trust you. To be honest, you can maybe tell the others, but definitely not Dean. If Dean finds out…” you make a solemn face. “This whole operation will go down in flames. Got it?”

“Yes, I understand.” Jack says, fidgeting on the spot—he’s curious about what you’re going to show him, you can tell from the way every so often his eyes will flit about, searching the room behind you for something that might give away what you’re talking about. He gives you a bright grin, as though to show that he is ready.

“Excellent,” you say, clasping your hands together. “Follow me.”

You turn and begin moving over to the corner of the room, knowing without even having to check that Jack is following you—like a little duckling, if memory serves you right. You’ve only known him a few days but you know for sure that if anything happened to him you would be killing everyone in this bunker and then yourself. Rosa Diaz has it right.

“Alright, pass me that chair.” As soon as you come to a stop in the corner of the room, you instruct the young Nephilim following you. Without question, he does as you say and retrieves the chair sitting against the wall by a shelf loaded with obscure occult ‘weapons’. The armory is always something that amazes and confuses you with its contents.

The chair drags with a light squeak across concrete floor as you position it where you need it, wasting no time in hiking a leg up and climbing onto the seat. You know what you’re doing, but Jack doesn’t and your sudden movement must startle him a little because you feel him grip your legs by your knees and exclaim loudly.

“Ah, y/n! Be careful!”

You look down at him, unable to help the trickle of fondness that curls into your smile.

“Thanks for spotting me, Jack—don’t worry though, I’m a professional. I do this often.” You lean down to pat his hand and after giving you a slightly concerned look, he slowly releases his supporting grip.

“It’s up here,” you continue, before he gets too distracted. Your hands reach for the grate of the vent that sits high on the wall, almost touching the corner and the ceiling. It’s only around medium size, big enough for you to fit most body parts in but definitely not your body as a whole. It’s only really tacked in, the screws barely securing the metal to the wall. It takes almost no effort to remove it and pass it down to Jack to hold.

“Behold, sweet boy,” you say with a certain air of grandeur and flair, “My personal stash of sweets and goodies.”

Whatever was left of Jack’s concerned look from earlier is quickly wiped clean off his face to make room for the excitement that rises at your words. His brows unfurrow, shooting high as he attempts to peer into the vent.

“You have a stash of sweets?” He asks, almost in awe. “How did you build it so quickly? Haven’t you only been here a little over a week?”

“I’ve had this here for years,” you say, pretending that your words don’t make you cringe a little. Some of the stuff in there… might be a little out-of-date. “Say, you ever tried a kinder surprise? Or a Bueno bar? Or Tim Tams?”

Jack shakes his head, still clutching the grate in his hands. “Are they very good?”

“Very good?!” you echo, letting out a noise that even to your ears sounds a little crazy. “Dude, they’re amazing. Delicious. Fantastic. They’ll change your life.”

With each word that escapes your mouth, you sell Jack a little more on the idea. He’s almost vibrating on the spot by the time you’re done, hands fidgeting as he bounces on the balls of his feet every few seconds. “Do you have some, y/n? May… may I try some?”

“Of course, Jack— mi casa es su casa. Except, this is more of a top-secret stash than a house. Gimme a sec, I’ll fish some out for you.”

You turn then, careful not to wobble the chair, and go on your tippy-toes to reach your arm into the vent, the other bracing you against the wall. A part of you was worried after hearing Sam’s account of what happened to his own stash of sweets, but to your complete and utter relief there is still a hefty pile sitting half a foot back from the opening of the vent. You dig around a bit, searching for an egg shape or even a bar. The chocolates you mentioned to him should be safe, since you’d only added them somewhat recently. No risk of poisoning the half-angel today!

“Damn it, where are those stupid eggs,” you mutter to yourself as you search the pile, almost grasping something you think might be what you’re looking for only for it to slip away from your fingertips. You let out a huff, but freeze a moment later in delight as you grab a handful of something familiar. Your arm retracts before you can lose it again in your pile.

“Alright, here we a—woAH JESUS! Oh my god!”

As you’d turned around, expecting to see Jack standing in anticipation by the side of the chair, your eyes caught on something that most definitely wasn’t there before. In the split-second it takes for you to recognise the figure leaning against the shelf of weapons, you get so badly startled that before you know it your balance is compromised and you’re teetering on the verge of falling off the chair.

“y/n!” Jack exclaims in worry, lurching forward to grab your legs and stabilise you again. “Are you okay?”

“G-Gabriel,” you manage to choke out around the heart that leapt into your throat from the fright of nearly falling, looking over the nephilim’s shoulder. “Hello, didn’t—didn’t see you there. Holy shit.”

His face is somewhat blank, but if you look closer you swear you can see a hint of amusement cross his features. He is still in the rags and still somewhat dirty, since he won’t let anyone come near him and he still hasn’t got enough juice to clean himself. It makes something in your chest twinge but you refuse to give it the mental screentime it demands.

“Oh, Uncle Gabriel,” Jack turns and greets, pleasantly surprised to see his uncle out and about. Nowhere near as surprised as you, however, who honestly didn’t think Gabriel would be leaving his room for a few weeks at least. “I am glad to see you are well enough to walk about. What brings you here?”

As expected, Gabriel says nothing—his eyes do, however, betray him when they flit in a squirrely manner from Jack to the overflowing handful of chocolates you have in your hand.

“You came for the sweets?” you query, brows drawing together in confusion. “But how did you���”

You stop yourself mid-sentence, realisation washing over you. “Ah… the vents. You probably heard us.”

Not a word, but the archangel does shrug slightly, gaze flitting away, and you know you must be correct. Jack turns his head back to you, expression confused but mixed in with something else—does he want you to do something? You catch on quickly to the imploring glint in his eyes.

“Here, there’s more than enough—Jack, take one of each and then pass the rest to Gabriel. And if either of you hear Dean, tell me or else this hiding spot will be compromised. If Dean finds out I have a stash of chocolate, it’s game over.”

Jack, as he had done before, nods seriously and carefully takes the handful of chocolates from you. He picks out one of each and places it on the chair by your feet, before tentatively passing the rest to Gabriel.

You hadn’t been sure whether he was actually going to take the sweets or not, but to your surprise he does. With hands that shake ever so slightly, he moves the wrapped goodies from his nephew’s hands to his own, offering the briefest smile to the two of you. And then he is bringing his hands to his chest and turning, making his exit from the room at a pace that is somewhere between hasty and cautious. By the time of your next blink, he is gone and you’re left reeling at the experience.

“I’m not going crazy, right?” you turn your gaze down to Jack, continuing when he meets your eyes. “Gabriel was just here?”

“He was,” Jack confirms, simultaneously relieving and confusing you. “He wanted some sweets, I think.”

“Huh,” you say, because you can’t think of anything else. After a moment, you blink yourself out of your thoughts and return to the original reason you’d brought the young man here.

“Anyway, go ahead and try those! Tell me which one you like most, and I’ll get more out for you.”

Jack doesn’t need to be told twice; he’s diving for the sweets he’d stored on the chair and tearing into the first one he can get his hands on before you’re even finished talking. Within split-seconds he has it in his mouth and he’s giving you a wide-eyed look.

“y/n, this is so good!”

He is definitely not wrong. Smiling, you reach up and attempt to retrieve more of the one in his hand to restock him.

“I know right?! Just wait until you try the other ones.”

x     x

You’d thought it earlier, but it becomes more apparent now that just as you’d figured, something had changed in Gabriel the other day.

Now, don’t get it wrong—he is still quiet and refuses to speak most of the time, and most of his day is spent within the confines of his room, but lately… he’s begun to sneak out a bit more.

Well, sneak maybe has a little bit of a negative connotation. He’s allowed to be out of his room, of course. It’s just that he’s so quiet and quick that sneaking is the only fitting term you can think of for the way he slinks silently through the bunker.

The idle thought crossed your mind at some point that maybe he just wants to be a part of it all, even for a brief moment, and even if it just means he hovers on the outskirts of the room instead of actually joining in.

Sometimes you’ll come out in the morning and find him curled on one of the plush chairs in the library, hidden behind one of the bookshelves. Other times he might wander into a room when the occupants are in the middle of something, whether that be researching, playing a game, watching something, or even arguing. Actually, he probably shows up most often for the latter. Stirring the pot was his specialty back when, and it seems a pot ready to bubble over is something he is naturally drawn back to as he starts to feel a little more like himself.

Most of the times you've spotted him at the periphery of the room, it's been bickering that has, admittedly, more often than not started at your hands. It’s not your fault! For two brother’s who have literally survived several almost-apocalypses, the Winchesters are awfully easy to tease. Sometimes you give Jack or Mary a few proverbial pokes, but you don’t really have the heart to follow through for very long. The guilt you feel when you rile up Sam and Dean is minimal, but when you start to stir up anyone else in the bunker you feel guilty after about five seconds of it.

Today’s victim is, as often happens to be the case, Dean. Sometimes you seek him out if you’re in a particularly bastardous mood, but today he happened to walk in front of your crosshairs of his own accord. Wrong place, wrong time.

“I’m just saying,” you struggle to keep a straight face as you speak. You can see the red beginning to colour the tips of Dean’s ears and know that you’re getting to him, as much as he is trying not to let it show. “The bacon that you used for that burger… I think it was the one that was out of date.”

“No way,” Dean denies immediately. “I checked the dates, this was from the good packet.”

“Where was it?” you ask him, raising a brow and crossing your arms. He stills for a moment as he attempts to recall which portion of the fridge the bacon was residing in.

“Left side, towards the front.” He finally informs you, looking proud of himself. You lean back in your chair, wincing at him.

“Dude… that was the out-of-date one.” You shake your head, giving him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry to tell you, but you’re gonna be super sick later.”

Now, the thing about this argument is that there was no out-of-date bacon that he could have used. You threw it out the other day. But, he doesn’t know that. And if you can convince him that the burger he is more than halfway through was made with funky meat, then you bet his reaction is gonna be really funny.

Dean throws an accusing finger in your direction, scowling. His ears tinge a little more red. “Stop gaslighting me, twinkletoes! I know which bacon I used!”

“Yeah,” you say, gesturing vaguely. “The out-of-date one.”

Dean doesn’t believe you, of course, but you do catch him giving the burger in his hold a cursory glance. He huffs a breath out of his nose.

“If it’s out of date, then why does it still taste so good?” Dean says, with all the gusto of someone who’d just said something worthy of a mic drop. His free hand even moves to his hip, and one of his brows raises at you while his lips purse.

You shrug, resting your legs on the corner of the table and crossing one over the other. The corner stabs into you when you slip slightly and prompts a readjustment. “I don’t know, man. You eat a lot of shit so it could just be that you’re accustomed to funky-tasting food.”

For a moment he appears like he wants to refute what you said, but he seems to think better of it as he, presumably, recalls the meals he’d had as of late. His lips are still pursed as he stares at you for a second with narrowed eyes, the cogs visibly turning in his head.

“You know what,” he begins, sounding a little testy. You pause for a moment, though, as you detect something else in his tone. “Why don’t we bet on it if you’re so sure? Loser has to do the other’s chores for a week.”

“Deal,” you say immediately, without even entertaining the possibility of losing. You presume that he’s just going to judge this on whether or not he gets food poisoning later (which you can easily interfere with; there are a number of things in the bunker that are good for upsetting a stomach), and aren’t too worried. That changes in the next second when you see him turn and make his way to the bin where the bacon packaging no doubt resides. You scramble into a sitting position, dread already creeping into your bones as you realise you’re about to be found out. Damn it, you already hate the chores you have when you’re here, you don’t want to do Dean’s as well!

You make a face as he finally reaches the bin, reaching in to procure the packaging from the top.

“HAH, see! Best by—”

You blink as he halts suddenly in his reading, the red fading from his ears and making way for a green hue to wash over his face.

“Oh. Oh god.” He says, much softer than his earlier proclamation. He drops the packaging back in the bin, and the remains of his burger follow suit in the next heartbeat. He straightens, but doesn’t meet your eyes.

One of his hands comes to place over his stomach, his features twisting. “I’ll… be right back.”

And then he is using his long legs to his advantage and striding out of the room faster than you can comment. You’re left there reeling, alone in the kitchen.

“What the fuck,” you whisper to yourself, confused beyond belief. By all means, he should have read a date that was still safe. Unless you threw out the wrong bacon. But you’d been sure to check which you were throwing out when you did it, so there’s no way—

Your frantic inner monologue is cut off by the soft sound of shuffling on the outskirts of the room. You turn to investigate, and to your surprise catch sight of Gabriel quietly slinking to the door from the corner of the kitchen. He pauses like he feels the weight of your gaze on him, and turns to face you just slightly.

You’re too surprised to even say anything in greeting, and that proves to be the case especially in the next moment when the archangel offers you a brief wink and then turns back the way he is facing, disappearing from the kitchen and leaving you truly alone this time.

It takes a second for the dots to connect in your head, but when they do you can’t help the surprised laugh that leaps from you.

Gabriel had just saved your ass from doing extra chores for a week.

You’d have to slip him some of your stash as a thanks.

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[idreamofplaid]

Just Enough Tease

Square Filled: Panty Kink

Characters: Jensen x Reader

Rating: Explicit

Tags: Oral (female receiving); squirting; dirty talk

Summary: It’s a big night for Jensen in more ways than one.

Word Count: 1515

A/N: Thanks for the idea @dean-winchesters-bacon​! I hope you like what I did with it.

Created for @spnkinkbingo

Everything had been delayed for months because of the virus. Putting life on hold for so long had been frustrating, disappointing, discouraging, and downright depressing at times. When normal activities at long last resumed, the palpable cloud of heaviness that had settled over the world was lifted. Life felt positively festive.

Many things that had been postponed could finally happen. That included the series wrap party. It’d been a long time since you’d seen Jensen this happy, and a happy Jensen was a horny Jensen.

He’d been unable to keep his hands off you all night. The dress you were wearing showed off all your best assets, but you knew it was what was underneath that was driving Jensen crazy. When you’d gotten in the car to leave for the party, you had leaned across the seat and whispered in his ear, “I wore something special for you tonight.” With a satisfied smile, you moved back into your seat and raised your skirt so he could see what was underneath.

When he saw, Jensen’s lips parted ever so slightly. He raised his eyes to meet yours. “You’d do that to me?”

You dropped your skirt back into place. “Absolutely, I would.” You put your hand on his thigh and gave a little squeeze to emphasize your point. 

The thing you were wearing that already had his breath catching in his chest was plain white cotton panties. Over the course of your relationship, you had pushed at every button and pulled at every string to find all of his kinks. This one you had discovered purely by accident. Jensen had walked in on you one afternoon when you were getting ready to go out to lunch with a friend one afternoon. You were thirty minutes late for that lunch.

You gave your fiance a smile as you slowly slid your hand from his leg. “Enjoy yourself tonight, babe. I’m so proud of you. And remember what’s waiting for you later.”

Jensen watched you all night. You knew what he was thinking when he was posing for pictures, when he was cutting the cake, and when he was singing on stage. He couldn’t take his eyes off you the entire time he was singing “Wrecking Ball”. As soon as he sang the last notes, he was off the stage immediately and came to you. He took your hand and started leading you away from the crowd. “Where are we going, Jensen?”

The second he got you out of the main ballroom and into a mostly empty hallway, he pushed you against the wall and started kissing your neck, the scruff of his beard pleasantly scratching your skin. “I need you now, baby. I can’t wait until we get home. I started to get a hard on while I was singing just looking at you.” 

You arched your neck back, enjoying the feel of his lips on your skin. “Do you want to get a room?”

Jensen pulled his earlobe into your ear and nibbled on it. “That’ll take too long.” He took your hand again and led you farther down the hall. When you reached something called The Fern Room, Jensen tried the door. Finding it open, he pulled you into the small conference room behind him.

The door was barely closed before his hand was under your dress. He stroked his fingers over your cotton covered core. “I’m gonna make you so wet for me, baby.”

Jensen pushed your panties aside and swiped his fingers through your folds. He brushed back and forth, teasing at your opening and your clit until you were moaning his name and holding onto his shoulders for support. He finally pushed a finger deep into you, pumped it a few times, then took it out and rubbed it over his lips before sliding it into his own mouth. He closed his eyes and sucked it. “You are delicious, baby girl.”

Things moved quickly then. Jensen put his hands on your waist, moved you toward the conference table, and lifted you up onto it. “Jensen, wait. Does the door lock?”

He looked a little dazed for a second then went to check the door. “Needs a key to lock it.” Jensen grabbed a chair and wedged it beneath the door handle. “That okay?” He took off his jacket and threw it on a chair on his way back across the room.

You put your arms around his neck, brought his mouth back to yours, and wrapped your legs around his waist. That start of an erection he’d mentioned earlier was now raging full on and pressing against you. You reached for his zipper, anxious to release him, to see that part of him you ached to have filling you. His cock sprang free from his dress pants, standing thick next to his stomach and his crisp white shirt. It was your plan to ruin that shirt. 

You reached for his cock, and Jensen put his hand around your wrist to stop you. “No. Not yet, baby girl. I’ve got plans for you first.” He kept you at the edge of the table, and spread your legs open. He pushed your skirt up around your waist then dipped his head down and began to lap at the cotton. The wetter your panties got the easier it was to feel his tongue swiping at your clit.

Jensen continued to suck at it through the thin, wet fabric; and he pushed the thin strip of cotton aside to have better access to your opening. Without warning or hesitation, he pushed two fingers in, and you were ready for him. You moaned and moved your hips to accept what he was giving you. “God, baby, you are so fucking hot.”

He added another finger and started to move them faster. Jensen knew when he talked dirty it made you come shaking, and he was determined you were going to come all over this table. “You thought you could tease me by wearing these innocent white panties. Well, they don’t look innocent on you, sweetheart. They make my dick so hard it feels like it could cut fucking glass.”

He curled his fingers to stroke your g-spot. “You thought you could tease me with them by showing me and not letting me touch, by making me think about them all night. I’m gonna make you pay for that, baby girl. I’m going to make you come until you’re weak.”

Jensen was as good as his word. He made you squirt all over that conference room table before he made you come again with his tongue. The pleased look on his face made you feel like he was more proud of what he could do to you, the way he could make you fall apart, than he was of the part he’d had in making television history. Right now, Jensen Ackles didn’t care he was missing the party that was for him.

He’d almost torn the panties from your body. They were being pushed to their limits, but they were still there, still pushed to the side so Jensen could do whatever he wanted. And he made very clear exactly what it was he wanted to do. “I’m gonna fuck you now, sweetheart, and you’re gonna feel it for days.” 

He thrust into you hard, deep, and fast. It was perfect. When you got close to your orgasm, Jensen covered your mouth with his hand to stifle your scream. When your body clenched around him in wave after wave of pleasure, he shot rope after rope of hot come inside you, filling your womb. 

Jensen collapsed on top of you, and you wrapped your arms around him. You both lay there panting and trying to catch your breath. After a couple of minutes, you said, “We’d better get back; they’re going to miss you.”

Jensen stood and adjusted himself back in his pants. You gave him an appraising look. After all these years, he was still incredibly handsome, even more so than he’d been when you met him. “You’d better put your jacket back on to hide the...um…” 

He grinned as he picked up his discarded jacket and put it back on. You ran your hands over his lapels. You lowered your mouth until it was almost touching his. “There’s one more thing.” You stepped out of your panties and tucked them into his inside jacket pocket. “You should keep these. They’re way too much of a mess for me to wear.” 

Jensen’s eyes followed your hand as you placed your underwear in his jacket and patted his chest over the spot where you’d put them. He cut his eyes to yours. “You want me to carry these around all night?”

You smiled sweetly at him and kissed his cheek. “Oh, I certainly do. I want to know you have them when the president of the network is congratulating you on your rare and outstanding accomplishment.” You kissed him and pulled his bottom lip into your mouth. “That man has no idea just how talented you are.”

Everything: @gambitwinchester @princessmisery666 @onethirstyunicorn @peridottea91 @logical-princey @emilyshurley @beenlovingromansincedayoneish @fangirlxwritesx67 @waywardbaby @atc74 @ledzeppelinsbonzo @shaniquacynthia @mariekoukie6661 @tumbler-tidbits @fandom-princess-forevermore @terrarium-jpeg @emoryhemsworth @crashdevlin @heycasbutt @jules-1999 @mrsdeannafuckingwinchester @cosicas-cuquis @sammyimpala-67 @queenoftheunderdark @dean-winchesters-bacon @mrs-meghan-winchester @timelordy-fangirl2 @sweetness47 @hobby27 @awesomesusiebstuff @kickingitwithkirk @gh0stgurl @becs-bunker @sandlee44 @supernaturalgrandma @lonewolf471 @dawnie1988 @maddiepants @volleyballer519 @outcastedangel @kdfrqqg @lizette50 @daisymoder72 @sorenmarie87 @oldfreakything @winchesterxfamilybusiness @deansotherotherblog

Dean/Jensen: @deansyahtzee @flamencodiva @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @theychosefamily @focusonspn @akshi8278 @ladywinchester1967 @sgarrett49 @wingedcatninja @coffee-obsessed-writer @adoptdontshoppets @ellewritesfix05​ 

[there-must-be-a-lock]

Wake-Up Calls and Watermelon (SPN/CM)

Criminal Minds / Supernatural crossover! 

Word Count: ~2140

Warnings: Irresponsible use of pink feathery handcuffs, but don’t worry, Sam is there to give a safety lecture. Kiddie pools, kittens, an emotional support cyberterrorist, and so much fluff. Ridiculous escapism at its finest. Everybody needs a smile these days, right? 

A/N: Four mornings on the Wayward Sons World Tour. This is part of the Rockstar AU, but it can be read on its own, as can most of that series. There’s no real plot, just shenanigans and silliness. 

Thanks to @stunudo​ and @fookinghelljensensthighs​ for pre-reading and inspirational photographs, respectively! 

Wayward Sons World Tour, Day 4: somewhere between Miami and Orlando, FL

Something is meowing. 

Rossi frowns to himself and opens his eyes, staring up at the ceiling of his bunk. 

Something is meowing on his bus. 

His first thought would ordinarily be Penelope and one of her assorted stuffed animals or weird talking figurines. Spencer could also potentially be the culprit, depending on what sort of chemicals were in his system. Last time Rossi checked, though, both of them were on the other bus, where the shenanigans are supposed to happen. This is the quiet bus, where the grownups sleep. 

The mysterious something meows again. 

Bad enough that he’s slumming it sleeping on a goddamn tour bus. Now there’s a goddamn petting zoo on board. Rossi sighs and gets out of his bunk to investigate. 

“Who’s the cutest kitten in the entire world?” Morgan is sitting on the ground in the front, smiling adoringly at a tiny ball of black fuzz he’s cradling in his palms. “Who’s the sweetest little furball I’ve ever seen, hmm?” 

“How on God’s green earth did you find a kitten at —” Rossi glances at the clock on the microwave. “—nine in the morning in the middle of Florida?” 

Morgan looks a little guilty, but Rossi can’t tell if it’s because he has a kitten or because he got caught using that ridiculous high-pitched voice. 

“We’re at a rest stop so the drivers can get a couple hours’ sleep, and Hotch and I were stretching our legs, and they were in a box close to the highway,” Morgan explains. “He was the only one who was still alive. I couldn’t just leave him there.” 

The door opens, and Hotch comes in, carefully carrying a small dish of water. He’s followed by Sam Winchester, who has an upside-down drum that’s padded with a towel. 

“You gotta be kidding me,” Rossi mutters, watching the three grown men surround the kitten and coo at it. Morgan tucks it into the drum and it curls up happily, meowing its appreciation. 

Sam’s phone rings, and he digs it out of his pocket and answers: “Yeah? No, we got water, we just — no, Dean, Jesus. Just the hoodie. Did you find it?” He pauses and scowls, stepping away from the others and lowering his voice. “No, that’d be way too big for it, are you kidding me? That collar was specially made… no! Leave the fucking leash, Dean, it’s not like we’re taking the kitten for walks.” He rolls his eyes. “Yeah, okay, bring the feathery thing, just — oh for fuck’s sake, leave that bag alone before you find something you really don’t — Dean. Yeah. Cool.” He grimaces and hangs up. 

“Do I want to know?” Rossi asks, with a new sense of respect. 

“No,” Sam says firmly. He turns back to Hotch and Morgan and announces, “Dean’s bringing some stuff we can use as cat toys, and a big hoodie with a pocket so you can carry it around.” 

“Sweet. Thanks, man,” Morgan says, flashing a bright grin. He’s all googly-eyed. 

“What should we name it?” Sam asks, crouching down and rubbing under the kitten’s chin with one careful finger. 

They all take a moment to consider. The little ball of fluff is purring, and even Rossi has to admit that it’s goddamn adorable. 

“What kind of drum is that?” Hotch asks Sam, who grins. 

“Pearl.” 

“Pearl!” Morgan echoes delightedly. “Who’s the prettiest little black pearl, hmm?” 

“I guess we need to find a pet store,” Rossi sighs, and settles in to get to know his grand-kitten.

***

Wayward Sons World Tour, Day 7: Atlanta, GA

“Wheels up in fifteen,” Hotch is shouting, banging on the hotel room door. JJ groans without opening her eyes and tries to pull Emily closer, rubbing her cheek against the soft worn cotton of Emily’s shirt. 

“What the fuck,” Emily mumbles. 

“Oh, seriously, what the fuck,” comes Penelope’s voice. The fact that it’s coming from somewhere above JJ is what makes her frown and open her eyes. 

She and Emily are on the floor, lying in a sort of nest, which upon closer inspection seems to be made up of an inflatable kiddie pool filled with blankets. 

Penelope is peering over the edge of her bed at them, squinting blearily, last night’s hot pink lipstick smeared down her chin. She appears to be wearing a plastic coconut bra over her shirt. 

“Huh,” JJ says. She pulls a lei off her neck. “Did we throw a tiki party last night?” 

“That would seem to be the case,” Emily says slowly. She rolls over and wraps her arms around JJ. “Five more minutes.” 

“Solid plan,” JJ answers, snuggling in. The kiddie pool is surprisingly comfortable. 

“Not if we have to pack up and get our sorry asses on the bus in fifteen minutes,” Penelope reminds them. 

“Fuck.” 

“I smell like… like daiquiris and regret,” Penelope sighs. She wrestles the coconut bra off and flings it across the room. 

“You can have first shower,” Emily says generously. 

JJ hears Penelope pad across the floor, and then there’s a surprised yelp from the bathroom. 

“Is Spencer in the tub again?” JJ mutters. 

“Yes, but oh my god, you guys, you need to come see this,” Penelope says, giggling. JJ groans, head spinning, but manages to get up. She hauls Emily to her feet. 

JJ pokes her head through the bathroom door and snorts. Spencer’s wearing one of those cheap fake grass skirts over his jeans and there’s a top hat perched on his head. He’s got his arms wrapped around a tacky pink flamingo lawn ornament. 

“Em, get your—”

“On it,” Emily says, already reappearing with her phone to snap a picture. 

Spencer stirs with a pathetic sort of whining noise. 

“Next time I suggest coconut rum,” he slurs, without opening his eyes, “...remind me I’m a moron, ‘kay?” 

*** 

Wayward Sons World Tour, Day 10: near Dallas, TX

“Get your hooves out of the toaster!” Cas says urgently. Dean starts awake and almost falls out of the bunk. He really needs to give up trying to sleep with Cas on the bus; these things were not meant for two people. 

Cas mumbles something about Mufasa and opens his eyes groggily. 

“Fun dreams?” Dean asks, voice raspy with sleep. He cuddles close and presses a kiss to Cas’s pulse. 

“There were wildebeests in the kitchen,” Cas croaks. 

“Sounds like a good time. Coffee?” 

“Mmm.” 

Dean rolls out of the bunk and stretches. The door to the back lounge is open, and he can hear music; he looks inside curiously. 

He remembers Sam saying something about a Doctor Who marathon. Geek.

The DVD menu is up on the little flat-screen, playing the theme music in a loop. Sam’s sprawled out on one of the couches with popcorn in his hair, and Penelope and Charlie are leaning against each other on the other couch. 

Someone snores loudly, but it doesn’t seem to be any of those three. Dean looks around, momentarily confused, until he spots Spencer, who has wedged himself under the tiny table. He’s curled up with what looks like Charlie’s favorite purple hoodie as a pillow, and Pearl is kneading happily at one of his arms. 

“Time’s it?” Sam asks quietly. He sits up, and something pops audibly as he stretches his shoulders. 

“Coffee time,” Dean whispers back. 

He wants to make a snarky quip about how they’ve clearly been partying hard, but Sammy’s looking around the room with such a fond little smile on his face that Dean can’t bring himself to say anything. Instead, he just leads the way through the bunk area, out to the front, where Cas is watching the coffee drip slowly into the pot. 

Dean wraps his arms around Cas and nuzzles into his neck. It’s a good morning. 

***

Wayward Sons World Tour, Day 14: Chula Vista, CA

Penelope is just about to get up for a gloriously self-indulgent shower (and if she uses all the hot water while the others are hitting snooze, that’s fully their problem) when there’s a knock on the door.

She peers through the peephole. It’s Dean, aka not at all who she expected. 

“Hey, sorry to bother you,” he says gruffly, when she opens the door. “Um… Spencer said he knows how to pick locks?”

Ooh, this is gonna be fun.  

“He sure does. What’s up?” 

“Um… we need to pick a lock,” Dean tries, and Penelope laughs. 

“Nice try. Gimme the dirty deets.” 

Dean sighs. “Jack is maybe handcuffed to the bed.” 

“No way,” Penelope says gleefully. “Okay, I will wake the boy wonder, hang on.” 

She ushers Dean into their room, shushing him and pointing to JJ and Emily, who are still asleep, before poking Spencer. 

“Are you sleeping in a kiddie pool?” Dean asks. 

“Mmph,” Spencer assents, rubbing his eyes. “M’comfy.” 

Penelope shrugs at Dean as if to say, what can you do? 

“So there is a bit of a situation I was hoping you could help with,” Dean says. “A lock picking situation? It’s, um, a pair of handcuffs.” 

Spencer doesn’t bat an eye, bless his heart. He just shrugs and unfolds himself from the kiddie pool, picking up his wallet from the desk. 

Penelope grabs a robe and her glasses, because while she wouldn’t ordinarily show her face while she’s still in pajamas, there’s no way in hell she’s missing this. Dean looks like he’s about to protest. 

“She’s my emotional support cyberterrorist,” Spencer tells him. “She’s coming.” 

“Excuse you, former cyberterrorist,” Penelope says, as dignified as she can manage while wearing a fuzzy zebra-patterned robe. “I prefer to think of myself as your fairy godmother.” 

“No teasing him,” Dean says sternly, but leads the way out the door. 

“You really trying to tell me you found the kid handcuffed to a bed and nobody is going to tease him about it?” 

“Well,” Dean amends, with a smug grin. “Nobody but his family is allowed to tease him. Don’t worry, though, we took pictures.” 

“Yeah, okay. That seems fair.” 

Dean leads the way into the Ceiling Fires’ suite and points them to one of the bedrooms. 

Penelope can hear Sam’s voice when they get to the open door: “I told you, they’re single-latch. You pull on those the wrong way, they’ll cut off your circulation and — oh, hey, guys.” 

Not only are they handcuffs, they’re handcuffs adorned with pink fluff. They’ve pulled a blanket up to Jack’s chest, but he’s clearly naked under it, and he’s blushing so hard he basically matches the handcuffs. 

“Good morning,” he says politely. 

Penelope gives him a cheerful wave. “Don’t mind me. Spencer’s here to rescue you.” 

Spencer is unfazed. He pulls a tiny flat case from inside his wallet and pulls out a couple picks. Sam and Dean are both watching him like hawks. Mother hens. Overprotective mother hawks? Something like that. 

It barely takes a second before the lock clicks open. 

Jack breathes a sigh of relief and rubs his wrists. “Thank you. Seriously.” 

“You gotta teach me that,” Sam says to Spencer. He grabs the handcuffs and lifts them between two fingers like they’ve personally offended him. 

“It’s easy once you understand the principle of it,” Spencer tells him, showing him the picks. “See, this pushes the tumbler—” 

“Where’d you go?” comes a low British voice from the main room, and then Harry motherfucking Styles is wandering through the door, wearing a turquoise silk kimono and holding a half-eaten slice of watermelon. “What on Earth are you doing with those? I have my leather — oh.” He looks from Penelope to Spencer, blinking. “I… don’t know you, do I?” 

“Shit,” Dean mutters. “When did you get here?” 

“Wee hours.” He takes a bite of watermelon, tongue-first, and chews slowly. 

Penelope is staring. She should really stop staring and say something cool. 

“You look sorta familiar,” Spencer offers, with a little wave. “Did you sell me E at a warehouse party in Boston a couple years ago? Cause I gotta say, that was a weird night.” 

“Pretty sure that wasn’t me,” he says pensively. “But stranger things have happened.” 

Harry goddamn Styles is licking juice off his fingers and dimpling in her general direction and this cannot be real life. 

“The watermelon is a little on the nose, don’t you think?” Penelope blurts out. Sam snorts from somewhere behind her. 

“They were all out of kiwis, I’m afraid,” Harry drawls. “You want some? More in the kitchen. Bananas, too, and—”  

“Hey, guys?” Jack interrupts, from where he’s got the covers pulled up to his chin. “Um… would you mind taking this outside so I can put some clothes on?” 

There’s a chorus of apologies. Spencer asks about coffee as they all start to filter out the door, and Penelope heads to the kitchen to eat watermelon with Harry Styles, because apparently this is her life now. 

.

.

.

[anika-ann]

Errare Humanum Est - Pt.17

Feels like Flying (Light and Dizzying)

Type: series, soulmate AU series  (part 1, part 2)   x Supernatural

Pairing: Steve Rogers x reader (past?)    Word count: 3850

Summary: ‘Nat’ sorta meets two more people – one of them personally, the other only by voice. You can guess which encounter is more pleasant.

Warnings: mentions of violence,amnesia and death, nightmares, swearing, light angst

Story masterlist

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You snapped your eyes open to the softly illuminated room, the remnants of a terrible dream of fire and wicked smiles causing your hands to twitch, a muffled groan escaping your throat. You should have never watched the video of your death. You liked the previous images better, a soft voice of your supposed soulmate had been so much more pleasant to dream of--

You heart stopped when more memories of yesterday’s events rushed back and your body froze on spot – the spot being a comfy bed, your legs tangled in cushions you didn’t remember laying into.

Of course you didn’t remember it; it didn’t happen. You oh so brilliantly nestled yourself basically in Steve’s lap instead. And everything was pointing the direction of… you actually falling asleep there. Oh God.

Your groan was more distinct this time, the sound followed by a rustling shift of a mass on your right; you nearly jumped out of your skin, your heart hammering against your chest, air caught in your throat in fright. You dreaded what you might find when looking the direction.

Maybe you were still dreaming. There was no way there was a crumpled form of a sleeping man in the chair at your bedside, right? Because that could mean it wasn’t your bedside at all – then again, you didn’t own any bed, let’s be real here –, but it was actually his and since it already had an occupant, he aimed for the chair.

Shame instantly filled every cell of your body for being the cause of his future back-cramp; not that the chair didn’t look comfortable. It sure did. But not for sleeping.

A second later, you wondered why Steve wouldn’t opt for the couch instead, where he could be at least lying down. You didn’t question why it wasn’t you on the couch – of course a man like Steve Rogers wouldn’t let a woman sleep on a couch when there was a perfectly fit bed; the short time you remembered spending with him was enough to tell you as much.

You feasted your sleepy eyes on him, your lips unwittingly curling into a small smile.

He looked almost peaceful – almost. Upon inspecting Steve’s handsome features, you noticed little things that lighted up a flicker of concern in your chest. His sharp jaw was too tense for him to have any kind of a pleasant dream, his eyebrows knitted, the right corner of his plush lips twitching nervously. Following the lines of his shoulders and arms with your gaze, you stopped at his hands balled in fists, tendons on his forearms prominent.

Nope, he didn’t seem to have a pleasant dream whatsoever.

You only argued with yourself for a short moment before sitting up on the bed – still dressed in the plaid and jeans, but shoes removed (by Steve most likely, which wasn’t awkward, like at all) – and reaching out to him. You stopped an inch from his hand, a realization of just how badly a touch could end dawning to you. Touching a man with enhanced strength having a nightmare did not sound like a good idea.

So instead, you worried your teeth over your lower lip, looking for a better option. For a brief moment you considered finding a stick around here to poke him, but that seemed pretty rude.

“…Steve?” you called out silently in the end, only causing his lips twitch again and not in a smile-like manner. Nope. You gulped and tried your normal speaking volume. “Steve? You’re dreaming. Wake up.”

Nope. Nothing. Except a jerk of his head further to the side. You grimaced, feeling completely useless.

Well, you guessed physical contact it was. You just hoped your bones would still be still in place when he fully woke up.

Cautiously, ready to jump away if he flipped out, your fingers brushed his knuckles with another call of his name.

The sound of distress leaving his lips had your insides clench uncomfortably. This time you laid your whole palm over the back of his hand.

“Steve. Come on. Wake up,” you coaxed, squeezing his hand lightly.

That did it.

His eyes snapped open and with a movement too fast for you to register, he suddenly stood on his feet two steps from the bed, face perplexed, and the chair he had been sitting on hit the ground with a thud that made you jump backwards.

Thank god Steve had a big bed otherwise you would have been on the floor.

“What-“ he rasped, the look in his eyes almost haunted as he stared at you, pupils dilated and skin pale as if—oh. Oh.

As if he saw a ghost.

“Steve? Are you okay? You looked like you had a pretty bad dream,” you said slowly, observing his reactions.

He blinked rapidly and you noticed his feet shuffling backwards a fraction. His expression shifted to one of disbelief.

“Bad dream?” he parroted incredulously. His eyes searched the room and you tried to follow his line of gaze; until it fell on a small sports bag by the door, your whole property, a gift from Sam and Dean.

At that, he swiftly returned his attention to you, his shoulders slumping, his fingers going up to pinch the bridge of his nose.  You waited patiently for him to reassess the reality, using the momentary lack of his inspection of you to at least smooth out your hair a little, which was probably a vain effort.

Oh so slowly, his hand fell down to his side, his face apologetic. The fact his eyes turned glassy didn’t escape you – but he wasn’t crying. He even fixed a smile for you, one that couldn’t even hope to reach his eyes.

“I’m sorry. Did I wake you?”

You only shook your head, returning the smile and hoping to erase the shadow of pain in his brilliant irises.

“I… didn’t hurt you, did I?” he asked softly and your heart wept for him.

He was just thrown into reality and his first concern was for you, about him causing you harm. Because he had already caused enough of that, your mind whispered hauntingly and you shushed it harshly. Then again, it was probably Steve’s train of thought too.

You really, really didn’t want him to feel guilty for having nightmares. It was ridiculous.

So you climbed from the bed, not exactly gracefully, while his gaze remained fixed on you, watching your every move – as if he was actually checking if there was any damage.

Oh Steve…

Feeling bold, you crossed the short distance between you, standing face to face, chest to chest with him, only two inches of space between your bodies, and you gently wrapped your fingers around his right hand.

The change in his stance was instant, tension leaving, features softening as much as his eyes; the blue and green was much more inviting now.

“No, Steve, you didn’t hurt me. Even in my state of mind I know better than to approach a guy caught in a nightmare. Let alone a supersoldier-“ His face fell again than and he went to take a step back; you quickly gave him a firm squeeze before he could do so as you realized your error.

“Not that I’m afraid of you! I’d be cautious with anyone! I just said that, didn’t I —ugh, why am I so bad at speaking… Steve. It’s fine. Thanks for moving me to bed. I’m sorry to… eh, fall asleep on you. I swear I was listening-- I guess it was just really comfy and--- not that your body is soft or anything, you’re more like super-ripped, okay, what I mean was that---- that I… I felt really good. With… with you. I mean. I-- I felt safe, so... I guess I was more tired than I realized…“

An honest smile was gradually forming on his lips as you continued your nonsensical babble that in fact held an important and serious message, which was clearly received, because Steve definitely was one step from beaming now.

His thumb ran over the back of your hand, the fingers of his other hand tenderly running through your no doubt messy hair. The gesture almost turned your brain into utter mush, leaving sparkles in their wake, brilliant eyes boring into yours with an emotion you couldn’t quite describe.

“I’m glad. How do you feel about breakfast?”  

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Steve left you some privacy to make yourself more presentable and you nearly cried at the soothing spray of warm water with a perfect pressure against your skin and for some reason still weary muscles. You thought back to the moment you said yes to Rowena stealing some of the soulmate energy or whatever, not knowing for how long it would affect you, and you wanted to curse – the thing was though, she had brought you here. To Steve. And so far, things seemed… nice. Really, really nice.

However, it wasn’t all sunshine and rainbows. When you told Steve you wanted to call the Winchesters to catch up before eating, there was this… unreadable expression on his face. You understood very soon though. No, it wasn’t jealousy. It was hurt.  

You had noticed it yesterday as well; moments in which he seemed to slip from his carefully guarded role of a man delighted at your presence. You didn’t doubt Steve was happy to have you back, but you were too perceptive to ignore that he was holding something back. If you could take a guess, it was caused by the state you had been found in; an amnesiac. A shadow was always casted over his face, the light in his eyes dimming just a fraction. And you hated it.

When Dean asked you how it had been, you didn’t mention it though; it wasn’t their problem to deal with, they had already done enough.

“Good. Really good,” you assured them instead, wavering only for a moment. “I think? I mean… it’s a lot to process you know? But Steve’s being very kind to me. More than I-“

“I swear that if you say ‘deserve’, I’m busting into the Tower and kicking your ass,” the older hunter threatened and to your surprise, Sam supported him in that.

“It’s just… I know, okay? What I wanted to say was that you don’t need to worry about me. I feel like I’m in good hands.”

Still, the Winchesters, while already finding a new case, insisted they would be leaving in the evening only and any given time before or after that, you could call them and they would beat their way through the Avengers themselves to rescue the Fire Princess from the Tower.

The urge to punch Dean for the last remark was about as strong as the need to hug him. Soon after that, you ended the call.

You patted your way to the communal kitchen then, led by the Jarvis, aka the strange voice from the ceiling, an artificial intelligence. The world was a crazy place for sure.

“What the hell?!” a man cried out at the end of the hall just before you could enter and made you jump few feet above the ground.

Your head snapped to the sandy-haired male individual in a violet bathrobe, his face pale as a sheet of paper, his eyes bulging so intensely you saw it even when he was several feet away.

“Uhm… hi?” you offered a cautious and awkward greeting followed by even more awkward wave and the man’s hand rose on autopilot to return the gesture, but then he stopped himself as if he was weirded out by his own reaction.

He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes, murmuring something than sounded a lot like ‘coffee’ while he walked to you.

You shifted your weight from one foot to another, wavering at the door, arguing whether you should introduce yourself or not. Or did he know you? From before? He looked kinda spooked if you were being honest, so you should probably explain… and ask about his wellbeing, because you were getting concerned as he retreated his hands and seemed shocked to still see you standing there.

“Are you okay?” you asked hesitantly and he squinted at you, gulping.

“Am I going crazy?” he whispered, sounding seriously on edge and no, you were certain it wasn’t because his voice was still rough with sleep.

“I don’t think so, sir. I’m-”

“-getting breakfast!” Steve rushed to your side from the kitchen, only to cause the other man’s expression turn absolutely baffled.

“Steve? What the hell is going on? Are you seeing her too? Is… what is this? Who is this?”

Yeah, now you were sure; no one had shared the delightful news with him. You had risen from the dead. Yay! Except you didn’t remember who he was. Or who Steve was. Or you, for that matter.

Steve cleared his throat. “Clint. This, uhm… is really complicated. She doesn’t remember you. Or me. Or anyone.”

The shadow of hurt was there again and you mentally kicked yourself – but there was nothing more you could do.

So you intelligently stuck your hand out for the man to shake. He examined it as if it was a bomb about to detonate, eyeing Steve warily.

“Don’t ask. She’s back. That’s all that matters,” Steve pleaded him with his gaze just not to ask any questions and Clint, as it seemed, went along with it, so the introductions could be made.

“Hi. Nice to meet you, Clint. Sorry for not remembering you.”

He observed you with a funny expression on his face you couldn’t quite read. “Right. Nice to meet you too.”

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Clint clearly wanted to please Steve – or was too freaked out by your presence to stay -, because he entered he kitchen right at your heels, only to grab a pot of coffee black as night and a mug and walk away the same path he had arrived.

Guilt gnawed at you for making him feel like he couldn’t stay where he probably usually had his breakfast, but before you could voice your thoughts, a plate with a pancake landed in front of you.

You thanked Steve politely and couldn’t but examine him as he stood by the stove, flipping another pancake. What you said to Dean and Sam was true – Steve truly was very kind to you, sweet even and you felt a strange tugging at your stomach when you realized you couldn’t quite give him the same. You promised yourself for the millionth time that you would try your best; starting with complimenting his cooking.

“I forgot to tell you in the morning…” he mumbled after he thanked you for the praise, still turned to the stove. You glimpsed the tips of his ears turning pink and you tilted your head to side while chewing, intrigued. “Tony had you set up a room. He… uhm, he also moved some of the clothes you had here—before, I mean, so—I don’t mean it like you have to change, just that there’s the option. And of course, you deserve your own space, your own bed, as much as I am okay with sharing mine-- giving up mine, I mean.”

You swallowed before speaking, finding his embarrassment about the topic equally endearing and heart-breaking.

Bet we didn’t have to worry about that before…

“Thank you. That’s very kind of him,” you replied, unsure what else to say.

Was there even anything else to say? You weren’t sure how you felt about your old things existing – about Steve not getting rid of them, at least not yet. You didn’t want to examine the dull ache it left around your heart, wrapping it in a fluffy blanket at the same time.

The other thing was that you… kinda didn’t want to move from Steve’s room. But hey, he sure as hell needed his own privacy as well. Plus, there might be a teeny-tiny part of you that would welcome it too, because while you wanted to make him happy, you… yeah, you felt like there was too much pressure, things happening too fast despite Steve attempting not to push you; you recognized as much. This gesture must have been rather hard for him too.

“And of you,” you added then and he casted a brief smile over his shoulder before turning to you fully, spotting your empty plate and tossing his freshest creation there. “Thanks. They’re really amazing.”

“Steve, if I may…” the voice of the ceiling interrupted your peculiar conversation and Steve only hummed, continuing showing off his skills in the kitchen. “Director Fury would like to speak with you.”

The change in his posture was instant – he tensed, as you did upon hearing a name that sounded important – and he appeared to be struggling; his hands moved rather frantically as if not knowing whether they should stop their action or not.

“Well, send him to hell,” he requested of the AI nonchalantly in the end. “I’m busy.”

“I’m afraid he’s insisting on a meeting. The revelation of Director Pierce being HYDRA along with several other members of SHIELD struck quite a blow and even after weeks it’s still being dealt with.”

That… sounded like something you weren’t supposed to hear and you were already opening your mouth to tell Steve it was fine and that you were going to wait… somewhere else, but he was faster.

“I’m aware. But as Tony would say, grow a spine, Jarvis, please. I have my priorities straight and he’s not on the top of my list at the moment.”

Oh. Oh. That was… brave. And kind of him. And pretty cheeky? Maybe a bit reckless?

Or was he being patronizing? Didn’t trust you to keep yourself occupied while he was busy with something else? Or was he afraid? Damn, mind-reading would have come handy. Why couldn’t you return from the death with such ability at least? It would be so much easier.

Or would it? You might not like what was on Steve’s mind. You were not who he used to know. You were a woman without memory, without personality almost. You were a burden. And you were staring to question whether you weren’t weighting his shoulders more than being the world’s first superhero ever could.

“Steve, I’m-“ you started, but he only turned off the stove and faced you with a swift smile, shaking his head.

“It’s alright. If he really needs to talk to me, Jarvis, let him make it over the phone. Final offer.”

“Oh, I’ll just-“

“Stay. It’s okay. There’s nothing I need or want to hide from you,” he assured you in earnest and you bit your lower lip; that felt like a bit of an overkill.

Or maybe your insecurities were getting to you and Steve was still being the sweetest human being you had ever met and you were turning into a cranky cynical bitch.

God only knew.

“Very well. He’s on the line, Steve,” the Jarvis announced and you eyed Steve once more. He squeezed your shoulder reassuringly in return and the ease he touched you with effectively shut you up.

“Rogers,” sounded roughly from the speakers and Steve sighed before replying – it nearly made you jump, because you had never heard his voice so firm and even. Not in this life anyway.

“Nick.”

Silence fell on the room and you wondered if the man on the other end – a director, Steve’s boss you assumed – recognized something was wrong. You opened your mouth to soundlessly offer your leave again, but Steve put his index finger over his lips and shook his head again. You swallowed loudly and looked away, but didn’t move otherwise.

“You’re a hard man to reach these days.”

“And I’m not planning on changing that. What’s so urgent it couldn’t wait for a while? I have other things to do.”

“… I’m aware? I think. I guess?” the strictly sounding man muttered, clearly bewildered. “What crawled up your backside, Rogers? You sound… different.”

And here it came. You bit your cheek to stop yourself from saying ‘I happened’.

“Don’t worry about it, Nick,” Steve bit back, a hint of cheekiness creeping into his voice.

“It’s not like you to decline so many meetings and going on a mission only when you feel like it, Cap.”

You bit your cheek harder – Steve was changing his routine for you. Steve was neglecting his duties no doubt. That wasn’t right. Was it? You had figured he had, but this sounded rather… serious, grim even.

“People change.”

“I only recall one moment you preferred other things to your job, Cap, and I’m sure I don’t need to point out which one.” Why did you feel this man was the one who held the meeting Steve felt to take you to a date? The one with the dancing he had told you about yesterday? “I get it, things went to shit. But now it’s more than that, I’m not stupid. What’s going on?”

Oh, he was onto you. Shit. That couldn’t be good. It was strange how Steve kept his cool, sounding annoyed even. You wouldn’t be able to tell that if it wasn’t for him crossing his arms on his chest; you tried to ignore the little voice in the back of your mind that whispered praises about what it did to the broadness of his shoulders plus the size of his arms and what it did to you.

“Nick, if you have something to tell me, you have about a minute. We’re not talking about me.”

“Fine,” the director growled. “I’ll manage on my own, call Romanoff in. You… do whatever you think you need to do.”

“Yes, Sir. That was my plan.”

Your eyebrows shot up in shock and Steve had the nerve to wink at you. Your heart racing with worries jumped a bit at that for a completely different reason.

“You’re sassy. Again. I like it.”

“Bye, Nick.” He was almost smiling now, as if he was bantering with an old friend.

“Rogers. Good luck.”

The moment the line went silent, you finally opened your mouth.

“He’s onto you, isn’t he? I have no idea what anything of what he said meant, but he sounded really important and… dangerous, Steve. I don’t want to keep you from-”

You didn’t realize you had stood up until he gently pushed you back to bar stool, a relaxed smile on his lips.

“Don’t worry about it. He’s just cranky. I wasn’t at his disposal lately.”

I was too busy mourning my soulmate, you heard unspoken and winced. Oh. Oh god, could this get any worse?

“I’m sorry.”

“That’s not on you,” he shook his head gingerly, his thumbs caressing your shoulders over the plaid shirt. He beckoned to the pan then. “Another pancake?”

When you shook your head incredulously, still unsure this wasn’t going to blow up into your faces later, he shrugged and cut the pancake in half – one went to your plate, one to another for him.

He winked at you again and you suspected Dean might have blabbered out on you that you refused to eat properly. Honest to God, right now you were just too full, no ulterior motives, but seeing the spark in Steve’s eyes and wishing for it to stay, you dug in.

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Part 18

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Slow chapter and a bit of a filler maybe. Uh… sorry? Calm before the storm maybe…? ;)

Thank you for reading!

[yetanotherreader]

One Day

Fic Type: Stand-alone/One-Shot

Genre: Drama (Heavy Angst)

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Y/N Y/L/N

Characters: Dean Winchester, Y/N Y/L/N, Sam Winchester, Joseph Hughes (OC)

Word Count: 3,032.

Warnings: Angst, Depression, Anxiety, Marital Abuse, Mentions of marital rape, abusive marriage, physical violence.

PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS AND DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THIS IS TRIGGERING FOR YOU.

Mobile app doesn't support the cut, so pardon for the no read more thingy.

A/N: Hey guys. I know I went on this little(big) break and I haven't updated useful in a while. I'm going through a writer's block again, trying to write and stopping after a while. and I have so many college projects to do during quarantine. I hope y'all are keeping safe. I wrote this one shot in hopes of getting back at writing. Woke up all night writing this, so I really hope you all will like it. But again, since I woke up the night writing this, it may or may not be up to your expectations. Please heed the warning above, girls. I really do not want any of you going through more stress during these stressful times.

Also, I used the same tag list as Useful in this one too. I don't know if everyone of you will like to be added to any of my other works so let me know if you want your name removed or added. :)

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His eyes were locked on the big gates of the hall, both waiting for and dreading the moment that particular person entered who he'd been missing for months. He gave a once over to the venue. This place was gorgeous, a palace in fact. A big chandelier graced the double ceiling and there was a colorful fountain in the garden outside. The lights were the right amount of bright and the drinks tasted just about perfect. Even the waiters wore their uniforms more expensive than his suit. It was something Dean had always seen in those Disney movies which, don't tell anyone, were his guilty pleasure.

He and Sam had come here for a case—the only reason that gave them the privilege to get into a place like this one. People have reported weird occurrences happening around here, followed by the abduction of everyone who saw it. Turned out, it was a serial killer and the police had taken care of it even before they reached.

Something about that place, though, made him want to stay. For some reason, he didn't make a U-turn and go back. Maybe it was the fact that it was the annual ball of the city where only the rich and reputed were invited, that he wanted to feel reputed for once, or that here he would see someone he hadn't seen in a while, someone he missed everyday he lived. He knew it would shatter his heart when he saw her, but he was willing to take a heartbreak if it meant seeing her once. Sam didn't say a word against it, but Dean knew better than to think he was okay with him going through all that torture.

Just when his eyes reached back to the doors, he saw, once again, the most beautiful woman he had ever laid his eyes on. The woman who made his heart flutter and break at the same time, the woman he loved the most. She was dressed in rose gold, the drape hugging her curves as perfectly as he remembered. Her hair was up in a messy bun, which only she could pull off that good, with few softly curled strands coming out to shape her face. Her lips were colored wine red, as tempting as ever, and her face was covered in a darker make up than he ever remembered her wear. In a better shape than when he last saw her, her posture screamed royalty. She looked breathtakingly gorgeous. The only thing was, she wasn't herself. Or at least, her old self. Does time change people that much? It took him all his power to remove his gaze from her, her arm entangled with the other man's, helped. 

She wasn't his to call anymore, she never was. Maybe the only woman who he liked but never kissed, the only woman who made him go all hot and bothered but he never dared touch her the way he desired. The only woman he loved enough to not make a move. He knew his feelings were mutual, he saw it in her eyes when they sat on the hood of the impala, chatting through the sleepless nights. He saw it every time she laughed at his piss poor jokes or narrowed her eyes at the women who flirted with him. He saw it when she cried for the first time in front of him and yelled at him because she thought he got himself killed. He saw it when he felt her heart accelerate everytime they hugged, like his own, and when she refused to leave him in the worst. He saw it when he saw her build walls to hide her broken heart after he asked her to leave. He saw it in her indifferent expression and a lone tear escaping her eyes when he told her he'd be better off without her.

And boy did he regret every word he said. He called her as soon as he realized what he did. That in order to save her, he might have just given her the biggest of the insecurities. It was a month later that it happened. He apologized to her, told her he never meant whatever he said, tried to explain why he did what he did. And she forgave. He couldn't believe his ears when he heard her say those words, he wanted her to yell at him, hate him, punish him for what he did but she said nothing more than a 'It's okay, I understand.'. And maybe that one sentence hurt him as much as he hurt her. She didn't even think of him good enough to be mad at. She shouldn't have understood, she should have argued. He might have lost the best thing that ever happened to him like that. And his fear proved right when he saw her photo in the newspaper, two months later, with a man. Joseph Hughes, a big name, apparently. The man he ran into, not so long ago, in missouri.

"Mr. Winchester." He heard the deep, masculine voice as it approached him, "Didn't know we'll meet again so soon."

If running into that man earlier made his heart heavy, meeting him with his arm around Y/N's waist made it fall down with a thud, "Mr and...Mrs Hughes. Fancy seeing you here, too."  He shook his hand with a firm shake, forwarding it toward the man's wife to do a similar action. Instead, she folded her hand in a namastey greeting, as she looked at him shocked, and scared. Maybe she didn't want her husband to know about him.

"I would ask how did you know she was my wife, but I guess you read newspapers." The man said in his smooth accent with a laugh, which Dean returned halfheartedly.

"Got that one right," he smiled at Hughes, his eyes lingering a little longer on Y/N, "Your wife is beautiful."

At the comment he saw her husband's hold tighten around her in sudden possessiveness, his fingers almost digging into her flesh as she flinched a little. He tore his gaze away from her, reminding himself she was someone else's wife and he had no right to be staring at her. But something about this whole situation felt wrong, that touch felt wrong.

She didn't look at him once after that. The tension in the air suffocated them both, and he was sure the shorter man in front of him felt it too, "Let's get you meet some of my friends, darlin'. If you could excuse us?"

Dean gave them the way, as he contemplated whether his decision of staying was even right. It crushed his heart seeing the woman he loved in someone else's arms. He felt like throwing up. Seven months ago, he couldn't have thought there'd be a day like this. He hated himself for that.

"Dean, do you want to go?" Sam's voice interrupted his thoughts.

"N-no," He cleared his throat when his voice came out rough and hoarse, "No, I guess I'll just go to the washroom. Go find some hot chick for me " he winked at Sam, who clearly saw right through it but didn't say anything. He stayed in the bathroom for a while, to calm his aching heart. People knew Dean as a man, as strong as an alpha, but here he was, falling weak. 

After splashing water on his face a few times, he got out of the bathroom just to see people frozen in their spots. His eyes went to his brother, immediately worried about his safety only to find him silently, but furiously glaring something, his hands were fisted like a beast about to attack its prey. When he followed his line of sight, he felt something similar inside of him. There stood Joseph Hughes towering his wife, glaring her down and his nails digging into her, now pale, arms, "I said, Tell. Me. The. Truth."

"I told you. He w-was a f-friend." Dean heard her voice for the first time in a long while, and his chest hurt at how small and scared it was. Y/N wasn't a hunter but she was fearless and brave. She had put her life on her palms so many times to save him and Sam without hesitating. That was one of the reasons he pushed her away, but here seeing her so helpless and terrified, he didn't know how to react.

"A friend, huh? A friend shouldn't look at you like that." His voice came out in a growl, audible in the pin drop silence, that sent visible shivers running down her spine, "That's why I don't leave you around men, you pathetic whore. I'm done being okay with you slutting around-"

Dean charged forward, enraged at the man's audacity to even let those words out of his mouth, but before he even took two steps, Y/N pushed that douche with enough force to make him stumble, pausing Dean mid-walk.

"You're done being oka-I AM DONE BEING OKAY!" Y/N raised her voice, violently shaking out of fear and rage. Joseph looked shocked, as if he never expected her to speak like that, as if she never spoke to him like that. The thought alone made Dean's eyes tear up, what had that monster done to her, "I am done being okay with the things I'm not okay with! I am done being okay with you touching me without my consent and I'm done being okay with getting slapped everytime I say no! I am done being okay with you locking me in and I am done being okay with you hitting me with whatever you find! I AM DONE WITH YOU!" She broke down into tears as she was done with her little speech.

"You are saying this here on purpose. You want me to lose my reputation." He said low, his eyes trying to scare her down.

"Y-yes, I'm saying this here on purpose because if I said it at home, you'd beat me to a pulp." She said, trying to sound low, but the eerie silence in the room making her damn well audible to his ears. Dean saw nothing but hot, white rage. Seeing Y/N so scared, so broken, Dean wanted nothing more than to break the bastard's bones, every single one of them. And when Hughes charged at Y/N, he lost whatever little control he had on himself jumping at the said man. Sam, immediately, went to Y/N's side as she hid in his chest, shaking like a dry leaf. Sam had never seen her so scared and so vulnerable. He felt a sharp pain in his heart seeing the sight of his best friend so broken, as he tightened his hold on her. Dean kept on hitting the man, like an animal that got out of its cage. His knuckles were bloodied, with which he didn't know was his blood or the other one's but he wasn't stopping. After what felt like forever, Dean was stopped by two strong arms around his own, from behind.

"Dean, stop. You'll kill him." Sam's calming voice fell into his ears, "stop"

It took Dean a while to register, as he tried to release his hands from his brother's still kicking the battered man that lied in front of him, "I don't care."

"Y/N wouldn't want you to kill him, Dean." And at that, he stopped. Y/N. Where was she? He stood up and searched for her, seeing her frozen at the same spot as earlier, zoned out and shaking violently. His heart hurt so bad seeing her like that, he couldn't stop tears from welling in his eyes.

"Y/N," he whispered as he took a few long strides to reach her and pull her into a careful hug.

She went stiff under his touch, as he loosened his hold on her, scared he might scare her before he heard her, barely, speak out, "Dean.." as she clinged to him for dear life. Hearing her say his name again wasn't as pleasant as he'd imagined a million times before, rather it was gut-wrenching. It was painful, because this was the last thing he had imagined that made her say his name. He wrapped his arms around her fully and spoke comforting words to soothe her.

"Let's go home, Y/N."

It had been a week she returned to the bunker, moving into her old room. Hughes was arrested, and divorce agreements were signed. He got to know that the thing between Y/N and Joseph was more of a business arrangement than a marriage proposed by her father, who had no idea about his son-in-law's abusive habits. Sam and Dean kept a positive atmosphere around the bunker, not going out for any cases, but there was no change in Y/N. She, mostly, kept herself locked up in her room, not talking to anyone. They thought it was necessary to give her her space but that was just deteriorating her health more. She ate too little for survival.

Dean stepped into her room with the plate of her favourite food. She loved it when he cooked for her, he just hoped to God, she still would. His eyes fell on her form, lying down on the floor, her back resting by the bed. She looked into a distance, zeroing her vision. As he went and sat beside her, keeping the plate on the floor, she spoke up, "He'll come back for me, Dean. He'll take me and he-"

"He won't," Dean cupped her cheeks and made her look at him as he met with the broken sight. Her eyes had sunken in, dark circles forming around them, face paler and her natural blush around her cheeks gone, "I promise I will not let anything happen to you."

She looked at him like she wanted to believe, but a sudden wave of anxiety stopped her, "No..no no no no, Dean! You don't understand! He..he will come back and he won't leave me. He'll beat me and...and those chains. He'll tie me up again and he'll...he'll-

She stopped mid-sentence, a horror coating her features. This new piece of information startled Dean, breaking his heart into two..enraging him, too. He didn't know how to react to it, so he did what his impulse told him to, he hugged her tight, hiding his face in her hair. More than comforting her, it was for himself. He wanted her close and safe, "He used knives, Dean. He said he loved seeing me bleed..it was so painful" Dean shut his eyes tight, trying to push away the horrifying images from his head, as he let the tears flow free. What all she had endured because of his one mistake. She sniffled as she continued in a small voice, "you won't be able to do anything, Dean. He's very powerful. You can save me from monsters, you can kill them..but him-"

"I'll kill him if he laid his finger on you ever again." Dean spoke with determination.

"N-no...No, Dean. You won't kill him. Don't kill him please, don't be like him." She shook her head violently in his chest, "not like him..no, no, no.."

"Hey, hey," he soothed her rubbing a hand on her back, "I won't. I won't be like him, okay? Shh.." It took Y/N a few minutes to calm down, while he rocked her in his lap, "You hungry?"

She shook her head, mumbling into his chest "I never feel hungry."

He sighed, "Okay. Eat a little, with me? Please? Because I'm starving."

Her eyes sparkled a little when she saw the food, "You made it?" He smiled and nodded, proudly, "Can I..can I eat the whole thing?"

He chuckled, heartily, "madam, all yours." She smiled up at him, hesitantly. As if trying to remember how to smile, at which his eyes softened, "when did you eat this last?"

She dug into the food, liking the taste of it. The taste of home, "with you. He didn't let me eat this, wanted me to look good like his wife should." 

Dean clenched his jaw at this, wanting to practically undo that man's existence. The things he did to her, he was sure if he saw him someday, that'd be his last.

Y/N looked at him, a little scared and a little more sheepishly, "Can I get some more?" Dean smiled at her and got her some more. He looked at her eating, his eyes filled with unshed tears. She was so, so pure, only if he could take away all her pain, make her forget those dark months. Only if he could give her all the happiness in the world, because there was no one he knew who deserved it more than her.

Later that night, Dean asked Y/N if he could stay with her because his nightmares scared him. He knew she understood what he meant, and the fact that she didn't deny made his heart flutter. Y/N hadn't slept in days. Either she would wake up from a nightmare, yelling, or not sleep at all. He just wished she'd have a goodnight sleep in his arms, and she did. But he didn't miss what she said just before she fell into the slumber, something the Y/N he knew would never say. Something that hurt his heart and made him make a silent promise to her, and himself. 

"Dean, don't send me away ever again. Please."

Never. He would never let her out of his sight again. He'd save her from every monster, supernatural or not. He didn't know long will it take her to fall for him again, or if she'd ever fall for him again. All he knew was, he'd shower her with so much love, she would forget every pain that son of a bitch caused her. He'd love her so much that she'd start loving herself one day. He would hold her so dear, that her scars would stop scaring her.

One day. One day, he'll make everything okay.

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[thecleverdame]

The Oath - 10

Parings: Dark!Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Story Master List

Summary: After an unsuccessful escape attempt, the reader finds herself taken as a spoil of war. She ends up in the bed of a ruthless Alpha, the son of John Winchester, leader of the kingdom of Gilead. She struggles to conceal her true identity and navigate a society where being an Omega means nothing more than serving at the pleasure of powerful men.

Warnings: non-con, sexual assault, rape, attempted suicide, sexual slavery, branding, torture, ownership, voyeurism, anal play, smut, violence, and murder.

Sam is dark in this story. If any of the warnings are triggers for you, I would suggest skipping this one. Please read and heed all the warnings.

Beta: ilikaicalie

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-

The fog of your heat finally lifts, leaving you sore and utterly exhausted. Coherent for the first time in days, you find yourself an utter and complete mess, still in bed with Sam sleeping soundly beside you. Even if you couldn’t feel the ache between your legs, you’d know full well what happened by the mess left on your skin and proof left all over the bed. 

The shame is immediate and lasting. Over the next several days forgotten moments of your heat comes back to you. The way his cock felt in your cunt, the taste of his cum on your tongue or the desperate sound of your own voice begging for more. 

The bite on your arm heals quickly, but if you push on it hard enough it evokes the sensation of when he first bit you. Not that you would admit that to anyone, especially yourself. You’d never admit that you press on it, eyes fluttering closed, imagining what his teeth would feel like sunk into your neck. At this point in life even your own fantasies betray you. Dark, shameful thoughts creeping in when you least expect them. 

While your logical mind wants nothing more than to run away and never see any of the Winchesters again, your body is making connections that cause you to pine for him by the end of each day. 

Several Days Later

You only had a bite of the carrots. They’ve never been a favorite and they were undercooked, crunchy and hard to chew. But Sam loves them and ate almost the entire bowl before moving on to a giant turkey leg. It would be several hours before you knew for sure it was poison, but you put two and two together fairly quickly. Not long after dinner later there was an unsettled feeling in your stomach. Enough that you retched over the side of the chamber pot and threw up your dinner. 

Sam’s reaction was markedly more intense. It started as stomach cramps and a fever. By the time he began to vomit up blood, you knew it was more serious than even he realized. 

“Alpha,” you look down at him. He’s a puddle of sweat, skin pallid and clammy. There’s still bright red on his lips and a thin line of blood trailing from the corner of his mouth. He gazes up with glazed eyes, half looking at you, half floating somewhere darker. You swipe with soft fingers, wiping sweat from his forehead. “I don’t know what to do for you. You have to let me call someone. You need help.”

“I’ll be fine in the morning.” His eyes flutter closed, jaw clenching as his stomach tightens. 

You could run, but you wouldn’t get very far. The second you absconded into the night, they would all think you’re the one who tried to kill him. Retribution would be swift and painful. No, there’s so running away. You find yourself in an impossible circumstance where the only option is to stay and try to help. 

“I don’t think you will. There’s more blood than you realize.” You watch as he writhes in pain, rolling onto his side and curling into a ball. You do what you can, wetting a cool rag and laying it over his back, then his neck and chest. 

“If someone has tried to kill me I can’t trust any of the men.” He shivers, his body transitions quickly from hot to cold. 

“You can trust me,” you promise. “Let me try to help you. If I don’t do something you’re going to die.” 

“Don’t act as if you care.”

“But I do.” 

Without Sam, you’d surely be passed from man to man. Lord only knows what heinous acts would be perpetrated on your body. There is a smaller part of you, the part you suppress at all costs, the part of you that’s begun to think of him as your Alpha. Somewhere along the way, your inner Omega has grabbed onto his Alpha and it doesn’t want to let go, despite everything you know to be true. 

Sam and his family have killed half of your country. He’s responsible for murder, torture, rape, and slavery, many of which he’s inflicted on you himself. 

You should kill him. It would be easy. He’s weak like this. You could hold a pillow over his head and smother him in his sleep. It would be a victory for your family and your countrymen. It would be redemption. There is almost nothing you could do to come back from lying with a Winchester, but ending Sam’s life would suffice to get back into your family’s good graces. 

You should kill him. 

You can’t. You don’t want to. Watching him choke to death on his own blood would take a part of you with him. No one would understand, but you’re bound to him in this inexplicable way. 

“I’m going to break a rule,” you explain looking around the room. 

His eyes pop up, looking up at you as he begins to shiver. 

“Which one?”

“I lied to you,” you whisper softly, directly into his ear. “I can read. I’m going to find a way to help you. With all these books there must be something that can help us.” 

You sit up to get off the bed and he catches your hand. 

“Don’t let anyone see you, Omega.” 

“I won’t.” You nod and then make your way to the stacks of books and papers. 

It’s nearing dawn when you come across a compendium of common ways to poison a man. There are entries for everything from Castor Bean to White Snakeroot. It’s when you come across the entry for Black Leaf that his symptoms match. 

“I think I found it!” You look up to find him on his back, eyes closed and still as a corpse. Holding your breath you approach the bed, reaching out to shake him. “Sam?”

“Hmmm,” he hums in response. 

“Thank God,” you gasp. Opening a trunk you sort through the vials of herbs and tonics. If it’s not too late, all he’ll need is a large dose of Bay Root to counteract the toxin. You find what you’re looking for, crushing the herbs into a tea and kneeing your way onto the bed to wake him. 

“You need to sit up and drink for me.” You struggle to get him upright, using every ounce of strength to manhandle him into a position where he can swallow without choking. He floats in and out of consciousness, moaning in pain. 

Once he has most of it down, you lie next to him watching him sleep and pray he doesn’t stop breathing. If you found the antidote in time, you’ll have saved his life. And if not, it’s likely a death sentence for both of you. 

-

He’s still sleeping when you prepare another round of the Bay Root to give him. You’re just pouring the hot water into the mug when there’s a rustling behind you. You turn to find Dean hurrying toward you. 

“What have you done to my brother?” Dean twists your wrists upward and away from your body with such force you think he’ll break both arms. 

“Nothing,” you cry out. “I am trying to keep him alive!” 

“Don’t lie to me you little bitch!” he hisses, so close you can feel his breath on your cheek. “I’ll have you skinned alive.”

“I’m not lying! Someone poisoned him. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t know who the assailant was, so I told the men to stay away. I was afraid the culprit would come to finish the job. I swear to you, I didn’t hurt him.”

“Let her go.” Sam’s voice shines like a beacon from the other side of the tent. He’s standing up bare chested and hunched over as if it’s taken every last vestige of energy to get to his feet. “I would have died without her.”

Dean waits a moment and releases your arms. You go directly to Sam, wedging yourself under his arm to help him keep his balance. If nothing else it gives you a reason to stay close. 

“Someone tried to kill him and nearly did. I think the poison was in the carrots. They smelled faintly of bitter almonds.” You look up to find Sam staring down at you with an unreadable expression. “You should not be out of bed. I know you’re strong but you’re still experiencing the effects. You were feverish up until a few hours ago. Please, lay back down.” 

Sam’s hand curls over your shoulder, resting his weight as he and Dean exchange a look that might well be an entire conversation. 

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Sam barks, moving to lay back on the bed as he protests. “Get me water.”

“Of course.” You keep your head down, finding a mug and filling it as Dean looks around the tent. He spies the open book on the table. Sam sees it too, eyes darting to you before laying back on the pillow. 

“I’m lucky I was coherent enough to find a remedy.” 

Dean stares at you with unwavering intensity. While he doesn’t know for sure, he suspects there’s more to this story than he will ever be privy to. 

-

It’s when Sam leaves the tent for a bit of fresh air that Dean confronts you a second time. 

“Playing nursemaid won’t save you, Omega,” he hisses, eyes narrowing. 

“What are you talking about?”

“I see what you’re up to, the way you’re caring for him. It’s smart. But Sam and I have an agreement.” Dean snorts and you try to swallow the fear. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, belly churning with dread. 

“Once my brother has had his fill, you’ll be mine.” He grins, enjoying your reaction. His eyes scan your body, lingering at your breasts. “And when we get home, my father will decide who you’ll go to. Someone important no doubt. You’re a beauty, and you’ll make a handsome prize.” 

“Why are you telling me this?” you whisper. 

“Because you need to know your place. We’re traditionalists in Gilead. The new order went out when my father cut off the king’s head and we are upholding the old ways. Omegas are good for two things. Satisfying your Alpha and bearing children. You are nothing more than what’s between your legs. You are not special to Sam. The sooner you come to terms with your value, the better off you’ll be.’ 

 -

You think of your family and the shame you would bring on them if they ever knew what has become of you. Taken by an Alpha, a Winchester. Your father might kill you himself. 

Sam is tolerable. You can endure the rape because his demands are simple and your body reacts to his whether you want it to or not. But he’s not a sentimental man, he’ll keep you around until he grows bored and then you’ll be passed around like Tilda. A commodity, an item to be owned instead of a living, breathing woman. You can’t stand the thought of being tortured like the men who first tried to assault you. 

No, that’s no life. It’s simply breathing instead of living. It’s not worth the agony. 

Holding the knife up to your throat you go through the process in your mind. Sinking the knife in and cutting fast before you lose your nerve. The wine helps, you’re still scared but not as terrified as you were earlier. You believe in a God, an afterlife. There is something better after this. 

Summoning all your courage you press the the blade into the skin over your throat as Sam’s voice booms from behind. 

“What are you doing?” 

[sylvanfreckles]

Into the Unknown (Whumptober 2020)

Thanks, guys, I’ve had this song stuck in my head all day!

Summary: (11.22 AU) It's finally time to beat Amara, but Dean's not letting Lucifer wear Cas to the prom. Even if that means serving as a vessel himself.

* * *

“Yeah, great, solid plan,” Dean clapped his hands. “There's, uh, there's just one thing.” Instantly all eyes were on him—Sam's were apprehensive, Chuck's were mildly curious, and Lucifer's were downright patronizing. It was the third gaze that had him swallowing and looking away. “It's...it's Cas.”

“Oh, brother,” Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Your little pet is safe with me, don't worry so much,” he sneered, resting one hand on his chest.

“That's kind of my point. Wouldn't, uh, wouldn't it be better if you were separated? If we had some additional fire power?”

Lucifer snorted and folded his arms, but it was Chuck who replied. “Castiel's in no shape to battle,” he said. “As it is, keeping him with Lucifer's vessel is probably the right move.”

“But that's Cas's vessel,” Dean snapped before he could help himself. He'd known God hadn't given two shits about the angels in practically forever, but this was going too far.

Chuck held up a conciliatory hand. “Be that as it may, we don't have another vessel for Lucifer, unless one of you wants to volunteer.”

The devil leaned forward, grinning all over Cas's face. “Yeah, Sammy, what do you say? Wanna be bunk buddies again?”

Dean automatically stepped in front of his brother, earning a bitter laugh from Lucifer. “Then we go with option B.”

“We don't have time to find him another vessel either,” Chuck argued. “Trust me, Dean, this is the best way.”

“Yeah, no thanks. You've got a vessel right here.” He said the words in a rush before he could overthink them too much. Much as he hated the idea of being an angel condom—this was Cas. And if Castiel could be a suitable vessel for an archangel...maybe an archangel vessel could hold a lower angel, just for a little while.

“Dean?” Sam hissed, Dean waved him off to shut him up.

“It just makes sense,” he said, trying to convince the others. “Lucifer's got more than enough power on his own to take on Amara, and with both of them in there Cas can't pitch in.”

“I already told you, he's in no condition to fight,” Chuck interrupted. “There's barely anything left of him anyway, the battle would just burn him out.”

Dean flinched. It sounded an awful lot like Chuck didn't expect Cas to survive this battle. “And what about me?” he asked.

Chuck gave a long-suffering sigh and turned to face him directly. “You can't always have everything, Dean. Sometimes sacrifices have to be made.”

It was probably wrong to hate the creator of the universe, at least face-to-face, but that was what was boiling up in Dean at that moment. Chuck wanted to talk about sacrifices? When he could have stepped in and stopped this at any time?

Dean forced those comments back, knowing it would do no good to start another argument under these circumstances. “I mean this, this...connection I have. What if I try to stop you?”

Lucifer snorted again. “As if you could,” he teased. He rested one hand on Dean's shoulder—on the wrong shoulder—and squeezed lightly. “I'll make sure little Castiel has a chance to say good-bye.”

“If he was possessing me,” Dean raised his voice over the devil's teasing, “he could swap in and stop me if I tried to interfere.”

The devil was laughing again, but Chuck actually looked thoughtful. He waved one hand and Lucifer stiffened. “Let's let him decide,” Chuck said simply.

Lucifer stiffened. Then he slumped over, shoulders bent, forehead furrowed in obvious discomfort. Wary eyes darted around taking in the bunker, Chuck, the Winchesters...before resting on the ground in front of him.

Dean took a step forward. “Cas?”

When Cas raised his head enough to meet Dean's gaze, the hunter nearly stumbled back at the misery he saw there. “Hello, Dean.”

They didn't have much time. “Cas, buddy, the final battle is coming, and-”

“He already knows,” Chuck interrupted impatiently. “Castiel. Would you rather stay in there with Lucifer or hitch a ride with Dean here?” Seeing the vast change in Chuck's attitude now that his favorite son was in the background was infuriating. It was like Cas was barely worth his time, no more useful than meatsuit for the devil.

Dean angled himself between Chuck and Cas and gripped his friend by the shoulders. “Come on, man. At least until the battle is over and we can get you sole custody of your body.” He didn't care that Chuck, and probably Lucifer now, was seeing right through his story about wanting Cas to protect himself from Amara. This was all about getting his friend away from the devil.

Cas had looked down, and even now refused to meet Dean's gaze. “You don't know what you're asking.”

“I don't care,” Dean shook his head. He thought he could feel Sam moving in to stand close to his shoulder, offering support. “You've gotta get out of there, man.”

“We don't have time for this,” Chuck interrupted again. He easily moved Dean aside and stood in front of Cas, arms folded. “Your choice. You can help Lucifer win against Amara, or you can tag along with your buddy over there.”

Cas's eyes flickered to Dean's just for a moment, and he could see the depth of misery and pain the angel was holding back. He couldn't imagine Lucifer had been leaving Cas alone all this time, and while he'd never hosted the devil himself he'd seen what that had done to Sammy. And then Chuck's words...like Cas was somehow abandoning the fight by fleeing the brother who wanted nothing more than to make him suffer.

“We need you, man,” Dean said over Chuck's shoulder. There were so many things he wanted to say, he wanted to apologize, to beg for Cas to stay with them, to remind him how much they loved and cared for him. “You're our brother, Cas. You need to know that.”

This time Cas met his eyes for longer than a second. There was something else in there, some hint of turbulent emotions, and the angel gave a slow nod.

“All right!” Chuck clapped his hands. “Hold on in there, boys. This might get a little rough.” He held his hand against Cas's chest, palm out, fingers spread. Cas convulsed back, arching his back as though an invisible hook behind his sternum was holding him up, then his throat began to glow.

“He can leave himself!” Dean protested.

“We don't have time,” Chuck replied over his shoulder. Cas's mouth and eyes were glowing, and as the Winchesters watched a stream of blue-white poured out of his mouth to coil into a ball in Chuck's hand.

Chuck turned around, studying the ball of Cas's essence with a strange expression. For a moment Dean was afraid the creator was going to squeeze his fist closed and extinguish Cas for good, but he simply held the ball of light out toward Dean.

Dean opened his mouth to ask what to do next, and the light streamed out of Chuck's hand and into him. He stumbled back, feeling Sam grab him by the arms, as Cas's essence flowed into his body to settle somewhere beneath his sternum. For a split second he tasted ozone and iron, then his senses were flooded with a rush of information from a thousand senses he didn't actually have in his physical body.

“He may need a minute,” Chuck commented. For a dizzying moment Dean stared at the creator of the universe through one pair of eyes that somehow saw in a dozen different dimension, then the world went black.

* * *

When Dean woke up he was lying on his back in a featureless gray room. It looked like one of the dorm rooms in the bunker, except without furniture or any distinguishing features.

“Hello, Dean.”

He whipped his head around to see Cas sitting against the opposite wall, knees drawn up to his chest. The angel looked terrible—dark circles under his eyes, face pale and fragile-looking, and somehow way too thin even though this was obviously a mental projection and not his physical form.

Dean pushed himself up and scooted around until he was sitting cross-legged against the wall. “You all right?” he asked. Cas almost flinched at the question, and—holy shit, were those bruises? What the hell had Lucifer been doing to him?

His fury built at the evidence of what his friend had been through and the walls around them groaned in response. Cas looked up fearfully, eyes wild. “You're angry.”

“Damn right I am!” Dean burst out. Cas flinched back again, nearly curling into himself. “Look at what he did to you? Why shouldn't I be angry!”

Cas wouldn't meet his eyes again. “You have every right to be angry.”

This was getting nowhere. Dean shoved himself up to his feet and stalked over to Cas, who seemed to be bracing himself for a confrontation. Dean lowered himself to sit next to the angel, facing him, and tried to force his voice to be gentle. “I'm angry at him, Cas. Not you.”

“But this is my fault,” Cas said simply. Like it was the most obvious thing in the world. “After everything you've sacrificed I'm the one who let the devil walk out of the cage.”

“Yeah,” Dean let out a sigh. “Not saying that was the best plan, but you were desperate.”

Cas shot him a glance and seemed to relax a little as though he realized Dean wasn't there to berate him. “I was just trying to help,” he said quietly.

“And you do help,” Dean replied. He scooted around to sit against the wall, shoulder-to-shoulder with Cas. The rumble in the walls had eased back as he got a better control over his anger—if this place reflected whatever he was feeling, he'd have to think happy thoughts or whatever. Cas was in bad enough shape as it was, he'd never get better if he was surrounded by so much anger. “I should have seen it sooner, man, I'm so sorry. I should have known that wasn't you in there.”

The angel sighed, and he relaxed a little bit more as Dean's remorse filtered through the room, bringing in the truth of his words. “Well, he is the father of deception.”

Dean snorted. “Understatement.”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment as Dean tried to focus on all the feelings of affection and care and trust he felt for Cas. He was determined to wrap the angel up in every bit of goodwill they could muster and send him back to his vessel even better than before. “You okay?” he finally asked after a few minutes.

Cas brought his hands out to study them, flexing the fingers. “Lucifer is not a gentle guest,” he replied. His voice was subdued, and Dean could only imagine what Cas was trying to hide. “His very presence tore through my vessel and it was burning my grace out just to keep us both alive.”

Horrified, Dean could only stare at Cas's calm facade. “Your vessel?”

“I'm sure Chuck can strengthen it for the confrontation.” Cas's voice was bitter and he wrapped his arms around his middle, curling in on himself again.

Dean blew out a breath and leaned back against the wall. After a moment he wrapped on arm around Cas's shoulders and tugged him close. “After this, let's ditch the old man and hit Maui. You, me, and Sammy, nothing but warm sand and cold beer.”

“Hmm,” Cas leaned his head back against the wall, his hair barely brushing Dean's arm. “If we survive this.”

“Yeah. If we survive.”

* * *

“Dean?” Sam, long floppy hair and all, was staring down worriedly into Dean's face as he regained consciousness.

He sat up, nearly knocking heads with his brother, and looked around wildly for a moment, half-expecting Cas to be next to him. It was just Sam, of course...with Chuck and Lucifer a short distance away studiously ignoring each other.

“Are you okay?” Sam asked quietly. “You know...both of you?”

Dean rested a hand over his heart, where he was sure he could feel a flutter of Cas's presence. “Just fine, Sammy. Let's get this over with.”

[my-proof-is-you]

You Should Just Go

This was a reader request! Thank you, @unnuevosoltransformalarealidad!

Request:  Hi! I've been obsessed with your stories lately. I see that your request are open. Could you do one where the reader has depression (sadness and loneliness) but it is denied by the reader? Thank you

Word count: 2187

Warnings: depression, anxiety, loneliness, angst, fluff

You

Your eyelids felt heavy as you forced them open. Everything in you wanted to close them again--to go back to sleep and stay that way for a long time. 

You can’t, Y/N.

The little voice in your head pushed you to get up and walk to the bathroom, your extremities feeling like lead. Your feet literally dragged as you walked down the hall, cursing the bunker’s enormous size as you went. The thought of the effort to take a shower was making you mentally exhausted. 

Somehow you did it, though. 

You had been feeling like this for a while. You weren’t sure why--chalking it up to being overworked or missing your family. 

You’ll bounce back, you kept telling yourself. 

When you finally finished showering and made it to the kitchen after getting dressed, you felt like you could sleep for a week. You poured yourself a cup of coffee and slumped down in one of the chairs at the table. 

“Hey, Y/N!” Sam said cheerily, walking into the room in what looked to be jogging clothes. You forced yourself not to physically wince at his chipper attitude. 

“Hey,” you responded, not looking up from your cup of steaming coffee. You thought maybe if you just let the caffeine kick in, you’d feel better.

“You okay?” he asked. You finally looked at him and noticed a small crinkle forming between his brows. 

“Yeah,” you said, nodding slightly. “Just didn’t get enough sleep I guess.”

That’s a lie, your inner voice accused. You slept for nearly eleven hours.

You ignored the voice, focusing on Sam as he accepted your answer and set about making his breakfast. 

“Hi-ya, Sammy, Y/N,” Dean said, sweeping into the room fully dressed and carrying his own mug of coffee. 

“Morning,” you mumbled in response. He paused for a moment to look at you but returned to what he was doing when you gave him a small smile. 

That was so fake, Y/N. 

As you watched the two men bustling around the kitchen and completing their morning routines, you felt a pit forming in your stomach. You didn’t know why--couldn’t even pinpoint when it began exactly. All you knew was that as you watched the Winchesters going about their lives, you felt like yours was in slow motion. You felt like your feet were stuck in mud and were sinking by the minute. You knew if you told the boys how you felt they would want to help. That was just it, though.

You can’t ask them to help you. 

You didn’t want to be a burden to them--after all, they had already taken you in after your parents had died on a hunt. The Winchesters were on the hunt, too, and they saw your three-person-hunting-team dwindle down to just you with the twist of a demon’s wrist. They watched your world crumble, and they were there to pick up the pieces. 

They gave you a home, a purpose--they gave you family again. If you told them the truth--that you felt more alone now than you ever had--it would be like a slap in the face. 

“Y/N?” 

You blinked hard and focused on Dean who had come to stand in front of you. 

“Oh, uh, what?” you responded, your cheeks turning pink.

“I asked what you were planning to do today,” he said, a small smirk on his face. 

“Oh, I thought I’d just do some more research on that shifter case upstate,” you said, taking a sip of your now-cold coffee. 

“Okay. Let me know if you need any help,” he said with a smile before turning on his heel to leave. Sam had apparently left the kitchen while you were zoned out, so you put your mug in the sink and headed for the place that was calling to you: your bed. 

Dean

Dean spent the day working in the garage on his Baby. All in all, he had enjoyed a day just doing what he loved. He had only gone inside a few times for bathroom breaks and to grab a quick sandwich for lunch. He hadn’t seen you or Sammy all day, and when it was about time for dinner he figured he should go in and see what everyone was up to.

Sam was in the library, his nose in a lore book. He agreed to go pick up a pizza, and headed out the door to the bunker with the Impala’s keys in his hands. 

“Be careful with her, she’s in pristine condition!” Dean yelled after his brother.

“Y/N?” he called out after the door closed and the bunker was quiet. He didn’t get an answer and figured you were in your room doing research, where you sometimes did. 

Dean knocked lightly on your door and waited a moment. He didn’t get an answer, but could see the light on under the crack of the door. He opened it slowly, and stood for a moment trying to understand what he was seeing.

Your laptop was open on your bed, but facing away from you, the screen black. You laid in the middle of the bed on your side, curled in a ball and wrapped in a blanket. 

The sight wouldn’t have been alarming, would it not have been for your face.

Your eyelids were partly closed, your eyes staring straight ahead. They were slightly glazed, and Dean could tell you weren’t really focused on anything. 

Your cheeks were tear-stained and your eyes were rimmed in red. The sight made Dean’s heart squeeze, and he rushed forward, putting your computer on the floor and kneeling on the bed next to you.

“Sweetheart,” he said, brushing your hair back out of your face, “what’s wrong? Are you hurt?” His eyes scanned your body, looking for what could be wrong with you.

You blinked slowly, causing another tear to cascade down your cheek and onto the bed. “I’m fine,” you said quietly.

“Y/N, you’re clearly not fine!” Dean yelled. You flinched a little, and he immediately felt bad for yelling. “Just...just tell me what’s going on,” he said softly, placing a hand lightly on your back.

You sniffled, your eyes finally shifting to his. “I don’t know,” you said, a sob following your words. “You should just go...I’m sorry.”

Dean wasn’t sure what to do. He could tell something was very wrong, and he wanted to fix it. He just didn’t know how. 

“Y/N...I’m not going anywhere, okay?” he said, moving his body slowly to lay behind you. He wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you to his chest and kissing the top of your head. 

“Hey guys, I got the pizz...a.” Sam stopped in the doorway, holding the rectangular box and looking very confused. Dean quickly shook his head and Sam understood, taking the pizza and leaving the room quietly. 

“Y/N, sweetheart,” Dean began softly, “have you eaten anything today?”

You shook your head in a small ‘no’ motion. “Not hungry,” you said softly.

Dean tucked another piece of hair behind your ear. “Well, you need to eat something anyway.”

“I don’t think I can,” you said, another tear leaking out of your eye.

“I’ll help you,” Dean said, sitting up. “I’m always here for you, Y/N.” Dean looked into your eyes, trying to make you understand that he would never abandon you, regardless of how you were feeling.

You

You looked at Dean, so thankful for the words he was saying but at the same time so worried that you were going to be too much of a burden. 

“I don’t want you guys to hate me,” you said, your voice small. You used what felt like an insane amount of energy and pushed yourself up so you were sitting.

“Sweetheart,” he said, taking your face in his hands, “we could never hate you.” He leaned forward slowly, placing a soft kiss on your lips. It was something he had never done before, and you weren’t entirely sure what it meant. All you knew was that it was one of the only things that had felt right all day.

“C’mon, let’s go eat some pizza,” he said, pulling back and reaching out his hand for you. You took it, and even though you knew fighting through your depression was going to be hard, you also knew that having the boys by your side would make it a little easier. 

Six Months Later

Things were rough for a while when you finally came to terms with your depression. Once you admitted it, though, it felt like a huge weight was lifted off your shoulders. Sam and Dean had been with you every step of the way: supporting you, letting you cry, keeping you company when it was hard to do much of anything, and just generally not expecting you to be happy when they knew what you were going through.

You had gone to see a doctor, who explained to you that depression was an imbalance of chemicals in the brain. The way he explained it made you feel much better as well. Your depression was something physical—something as real as other diseases that people need treatment for—not just you being too weak or overly sensitive. Your doctor put you on an antidepressant. Once that kicked in, things started to get easier little by little. 

You had hard days, of course...days when you weren’t sure why you felt so sad, or had trouble getting out of bed. Those were the days you were most thankful for the boys. They would come alongside you, gently urging you to do small tasks like eating breakfast or going for a ride in the Impala. You knew he’d never admit it, but you were pretty sure Dean had done some research on how to help a loved one with depression.

Dean had yet to bring up the kiss he gave you on that first night. You weren’t sure if he was embarrassed that it happened or what, but you knew you needed to know. For a while you weren’t even able to think about a relationship—not with all the stuff going on in your head. But now you were doing so well that you just felt like you needed to know.

“Hey, Y/N/N,” Dean said as you entered the library, laptop in hand.

“Dean-o,” you replied, sitting down next to him at one of the tables. He turned his attention back to his phone, and you took a deep breath.

“Listen, Dean—“

“Y/N, there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk about with you—“

You both stopped speaking and stared at each other for a moment. 

“You go,” you said, nodding your head at him. 

“Okay,” he said, breathing a sigh. “Well, it’s just that you’ve been doing so well, and I really don’t wanna do anything to mess that up,” he said, pausing to look at you.

“You couldn’t,” you replied resolutely. “You and Sam have been such a help these last six months. I would be nowhere without you—maybe literally.”

“And I’m so glad we were able to help you, Y/N. I’m just afraid that if I say what I’m thinking it might freak you out or something. And the last thing I want to do is make you feel worse because you deserve to feel amazing because you’re amazing,” he said, barely stopping to take a breath. 

Your eyes widened a bit at his long explanation. “You are too, Dean.” You placed your hand on his, and he immediately turned his to hold yours. He laced his fingers with yours, and you felt your cheeks redden. 

Could it be true?

“Y/N...I gotta be honest. I fell for you a long time ago. I—I wanted to say something but it felt like the timing was never right. And that night months ago...I don’t know if you remember, but I kissed you. I didn’t mean to, but you were so sad, and I just wanted you to feel better. I didn’t mean to do it, but I’m glad I did. Because I knew in that moment that I would wait for you. I would wait as long as it took for you to be mine.”

Your breath caught in your throat. You had no idea Dean’s feelings for you were so deep. Frankly, you were thrilled. But you couldn’t get a word in because Dean kept speaking.

“If it’s still not the right time, that’s fine. I will wait. But I want you to know that I am here for you, and when you’re ready, I want to make you mine. You are perfect and you deserve—“

You cut him off by closing the distance between you and pressing your lips to his. He returned the kiss in earnest, his hands cupping your face.

You pulled apart after a moment. Dean looked a little dazed, and you smiled at him before finally speaking.

“Things might always be hard. I might always struggle with depression. But if you’ll have me, I’m yours.”

@malfoysqueen14

[astralshipper]

I’m not great with wedding stuff. I’ve been to one wedding ceremony that I fully remember, and that was a very.... southern kind of wedding that I don’t think Sam and Astrael would rlly enjoy.... so here’s some after wedding stuff!! 

Pairing: Sam x Astrael

Word count: 2,337 (IM SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN FOR IT TO BE THIS LONG!!!)

The song used is Grow As We Go by Ben Platt, which I always say is the sam/astrael song!! it’s rlly good and makes me SOB so go listen to it if u don’t know what it is!!

Astra ducked out the back door of the building, leaving the bustling reception behind with a relieved sigh. It’s not that she wasn’t grateful for her friends and family coming to support her, it was more an issue of just wanting some alone time. The cool night air caressed her skin as she made her way to the balcony’s railing. She leaned against the concrete half wall and allowed her eyes to flutter shut. The fabric of her dress ruffled against the wind around her legs. 

The sounds behind her grew louder momentarily as the door opened, only to lower back down with the click of the door closing. Astra didn’t even have to turn to know who had just joined her. Within seconds, a pair of arms wrapped around her waist and her head tucked underneath his chin. A wave of relief crashed over her as soon as the familiar scent hit her nose. Though he had clearly gone all out tonight with the aromatic scent of cologne dusting his suit, the classic smell of Sam still lie just beneath. She could still pick up on the hints of coffee and old books that clung to his skin and lulled her to a relaxed state each night as she curled up in his embrace.

His grip on her tightened as she melted into his hold. The tension in her shoulders dropped and she exhaled a long breath that she hadn’t realized she was holding. Her hands moved to rest atop Sam’s arms around her waist. Her head turned on instinct to nuzzle her nose into the fabric of his shirt. 

Sam bent a bit so he could press a soft kiss to Astrael’s temple. His lips lingered in that place for a few seconds, just letting the moment wash over the pair of them. This was the kind of calm they wish they could feel every day, the kind of contentment they longed for in the midst of the constant chaos that they called life.

Astra twisted in her newly wed husband’s grip so they could face one another. Her hands pressed against his chest as she peered up at him, hazel meeting hazel in a moment of pure adoration. “I’m in love with you, Sam,” she whispered into the night. Her voice was just barely audible as the wind carried the cadence to his ears. A soft smile spread across his face, one that caused the dimples Astrael loved so much to deepen. 

He leaned down once more, and this time he pressed their lips together in a true kiss. Astra’s arms looped around his neck in an attempt to tug him impossibly closer. Even after the pair pulled away, they remained against each other as much as possible.

Astra took a moment to take in the sight of Sam after a day of being pampered and complimented. The smile on his face seemed brighter than ever. His eyes sparkled with a contented glint he did not often get to bear. His tuxedo jacket had long since been discarded, likely laying over the back of one of the chairs back in the reception room. His bow tie hung undone around his neck, one side reaching down just a bit more than the other. The top few buttons of his shirt were also unbuttoned and allowed the edges of his anti-possession tattoo to peek out from beneath the fabric. Before the movement could even register in her mind, Astrael’s fingertips were already carefully tracing over the ink with a feather light touch. She raised up on her toes just a bit so she could press her lips to the flame design surrounding the pentagram. 

The pair held each other in silence for a brief moment before the speakers inside switched to the next song. The familiar guitar finger picking seeped out from underneath the door and between the cracks, allowing the hunter and the fallen angel to pick up on the melody. By the time the words kicked in, Astrael had already tilted her head up to give Sam a small smile.

You say there’s so much you don’t know You need to go and find yourself You say you’d rather be alone ‘Cause you think you won’t find it tied to someone else

Sam returned her expression and took a step back, holding one arm behind his back and the other out towards her. He bent over in a bow. “Mind if I have this dance?”

Astra gladly placed her hand in his own. “No one I’d rather dance with.”

The hunter stands to his full height once more and loops his free arm around her waist. Astra places her hand on his chest, fingers curling over the top of his shoulder in a steady grip. Sam recognized her insistence to stand on the tips of her toes, and let out a low chuckle. 

“Stand on my feet,” he invited. Astra’s brows furrowed.

“Are you crazy? No! I’ll hurt you!”

Sam raised a brow in a challenging manner. “Angel, with the shit I’ve dealt with, having you stand on my feet so we can dance is basically a spa day.”

The mumbled words that came from Astra’s mouth were inaudible, but she decided to take his offer anyways and stepped up onto his feet. She waited for him to flinch, wince, shift with discomfort, anything. He simply smiled and leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead.

He pulled her carefully into his chest, the arm around her waist trailing up to rest against the back of her head. Her head lay on his chest, eyes fluttering shut with utter contentment. Never before had she felt safer or happier than in that moment, tucked under the chin of the love of her life, swaying softly to their song. Sam’s eyes shut of the same accord, his jaw clenched in an effort to fight back the tears he had only let spill twice tonight. Once again the burning sensation pricked at his eyes and nose. 

You don’t ever have to leave, if to change is what you need You can change right next to me When you’re high I’ll take the lows You can ebb and I can flow And we’ll take it slow And grow as we go

All the time they’d spent together, the years they’d fought side by side, the losses they’d faced hand in hand, all of it built up to this moment. And now, all of it seemed worth it. Astra’s grip on his dress shirt tightened as her hand balled into a fist. She pressed ever closer to him, as if possibly they could form one being and she would never have to let him go.

Feeling this shift, Sam took in a shaky breath and tightened his hold as well. He tilted his head down so he could bury his face in her hair, which had long since fallen out of the intricate up do that Claire, Jo, and Alex had all worked on together, looked over by Jody who had to step in quite a few times. Sam’s lips pressed against the crown of her head, where only mere hours ago there sat a veil that resembled an angel’s halo, raised just above her head by about half an inch to give the effect of it hovering on its own. But that wasn’t necessary to remind him of her celestial background. Also unnecessary for this were the lace designs depicting angel wings sewn into the back of her wedding dress. Both were small, cute little additions that Astra was head over heels excited about, but they weren’t what was important to him.

He knew she was an angel every day. That’s why he called her that so often. After the fall, Astra began telling him that she wasn’t really an angel anymore, that she was useless and shouldn’t have that term of endearment anymore. Sam refused every single time. It wasn’t her grace that made her an angel, it wasn’t her wings or her abilities, it was just her. 

The woman in his arms turned her head so she could nuzzle her nose into his neck. Once again, she felt herself drift off in the smell of Sam. All she could feel was calm. This was the one place she felt like she could fit in, this was her home. Not Heaven, not the bunker, not the Impala, but Sam. She didn’t need her wings or her grace, she didn’t need a huge house with a white picket fence. All she really needed was her family around her. Sam, Dean, Cas, Jack.... that’s it. 

The song drifted out as the final note was struck, but the couple made no immediate moves to separate. It seemed that in that moment, the reality of the day just came crashing down upon them. Astrael didn’t realize the tears making their way down her own cheeks until she felt Sam’s tears soaking into the hair atop her head.

They finally pulled back just enough to look each other in the eye. Streaks of tears lined both of their faces and their eyes were red rimmed, but their bright smiles were more genuine than ever. Sam’s hands shifted so he was cupping her face in both hands. Astra’s moved to grip at the front of his shirt.

He leaned down towards her, only to stop just a hair’s width away from her lips. “I love you, Mrs. Winchester,” he whispered against her skin.

Astra’s breath hitched at the name, only to be exhaled in a shaky sigh. Her nerves set alight with him so close, yet so far, and the fire in her stomach from his words pushed a small squeak from between her lips. Her neck extended as far as she could in an attempt to connect their lips, but Sam simply moved backwards with her to keep them just barely apart.

Her finger’s fidgeted with the fabric between them. “I love you too, Mr. Winchester,” she managed to reply, voice wobbly and cracking with emotion. A flash of a pearly white smile preceded the final push forward, and Sam finally allowed their lips to connect. Astra’s arms flew up around his neck as his wound around her waist, picking her up just slightly to bring her closer to him. 

A little over an hour later, people would begin exchanging goodbyes. Hugs and tears would be shared, congratulations given, and promises to visit soon agreed to under very insistent pointed fingers. The reception room would fall silent and all that would be left was the same five people that there always was. The newly wed couple remains as close as possible all night. The brother in-law pokes fun at the pair ceaselessly, though his pride for his little brother shines bright in his eyes. The raven haired angel, who for this one day caved in and arrived to the ceremony sans his trademark trench coat, wears a soft smile as he helps the rest of the team to clean up what’s been left behind. The young nephilim beams consistently, practically bouncing on his heels as he dashes to and from the newly weds to ask endless questions. He also wanted everyone to know that he was very excited to be able to wear a full suit for something where he got to tell the truth, though he wasn’t a huge fan of the bow tie. Astra had removed it from around his neck shortly after the ceremony finished after realizing how much the boy tugged at it with discomfort.

The lights would be shut off and the doors locked back up, the room left idle until the next reservation it has planned. Now clad in their normal, every day clothing, the family of five would make their way out to the ‘67 Chevy waiting for them in the parking lot. They’d pile into the car, chatting and laughing and poking fun at each other. Dean might toss his head back in a laugh at something Cas says in misunderstanding, and Sam might reach forward from the back seat to deliver a swift smack to the back of his brother’s head. The old cassette collection will probably make an appearance as the conversation comes to a close and the moon inches its way across the sky. Astra might lay her head down on Sam’s chest halfway through the ride back home, and Sam might begin running his fingers through her hair in a way he knows always works to put her to sleep. Her soft breathing might even out, much like the young nephilim also sleeping on the bench seat beside her.

At this point, Dean might look back in the rear view mirror. If he did, he would see his little brother holding to his chest his new wife, a soft smile on his face that Dean has never seen him bear in any other situation. That’s Astra’s smile, he realized long ago. That’s just for her. The corners of his lips might quirk upwards and maybe, just maybe, he’ll speak softly into the night.

“I’m happy for you, baby brother.”

Sam might blink up at him in the mirror, a look of utter awe on his face. He might trail his fingers through her hair once more as he gives his brother a nod of recognition, and the sound of classic rock overtakes the car once again.

If all of that happens, and if Sam and Astra fall asleep together that night and wake up the next morning, limbs tangled together under the sheets and fingers intertwined, it would mean one thing: Astra finally found her home. After millennia of searching, trying, and failing to find where she fits in, she finally found it in this little patchwork family settled in an old bunker in the middle of no where, Kansas. A sleepy kiss from Sam that morning is truly the cherry on top of it all.

And that’s enough.

[collectionofdestiel]

Life is Weird

Prompt from Chagnon1022: A story where castiel assumes dean is cheating based on a phone call he over heard but it turns out dean was talking to his brother Sam so he could  him advise to propose to cas

~

Days turned quickly to months which unfolded rapidly into years. It felt as though one day Castiel was alone in this world with little in the bank and a less than stellar outlook on life, then the next he was sharing life with who he believed to be his soul mate. Life was weird, he decided, as he procrastinated starting his day by laying in their shared bed with only a wrinkly sheet flung across his skin. Weird in a way that it felt like yesterday he had none of what he had now.

Finally deciding that thinking over his lonely past was only going to make it that much harder to get out of bed, he threw his feet from the bed and onto the floor. His body twisted a little too fast so he took a moment to sit and wait for his head to clear. There was nothing on the schedule for today which meant that he and his boyfriend could spend a lazy day together.

That thought caused a slow smile to grace his features and gave him the motivation he needed to finally stand. After throwing on a pair of clean boxers he padded from their bedroom toward the kitchen, already smelling bacon and eggs.

“I don’t know, I mean, how did you do it?” Dean’s rough voice broke through the crisp late morning air.

Castiel stopped his feet in the hallway, curiosity perked his ears. Maybe it was a work call? It was odd that Dean would be on the phone on a Saturday especially before noon. There was no secret Dean wasnt a morning person, and it also wasn’t a secret he hated talking on the phone.

“Well, I cant do that.” Huffing a laugh, Dean’s voice then dropped to a whisper. “I can’t just tell him that.”

Curiosity peaking ever higher hearing the low tone of his boyfriend’s voice, Castiel tip toed so he could pressed himself against the wall beside the doorway. He knew he shouldn’t spy, and should definitely make his presense known, but for some reason that old feeling of lonliness started to flood his system and make his body feel too weak to dare make a move.

“I mean, I love you, but that is dumb. Just cause it worked for you doesn’t mean it will for me. One, how the hell am I supposed to do that without him knowing since we have a shared bank account and two, that’s like a four hour drive.”

It took all of his will to not gasp, to not succumb to the ice water now plunging through his veins and freezing over his heart. Had he misheard?

Dean sighed deeply and almost comically. “Tonight? I can’t do it tonight. I need more time to… think it over and get everything ready.”

Castiel didnt notice how his body gave out, his knees easily supporting his descent to the ground. It was subconscious how he curled himself into a ball and listened as the love of his life cancelled plans with someone else, someone who Dean loved.

“Don’t give me that, alright? I’m not scared… I’m just… How am I supposed to say it? I’m gonna sound like an ass.” Dean’s words were so tender, so lost and desperate, that for a moment before Castiel realized the weight of it he felt bad for Dean.

He wanted to reach out and hold onto him, beg him to not leave, scream and plea until his soul was nothing but ash. Castiel wanted to grip onto Dean and shake him and demand why he wasnt good enough, why they couldnt have made each other happy and live together forever.

A clank from dishware broke the delicate tension in the air. “Because I said so! Look, forget I called you, ok? I can handle it. I’ll see you at the Roadhouse on wednesday, ok? We can talk more then about it.”

Castiel let the loneliness find it’s home in his chest. He stood up, too numb to feel him going through the motions. Standing in the hallway he listened for the goodbye, the farewell between lovers, before he tried to decide what his  next move was. Was there a next move? What was left in his desolate world now that he found himself where he was all those years ago.

“Yeah, yeah, I love you, too. Talk to you soon.”

Life’s weird isn’t it, Castiel thought to himself void of emotion, that in what feels like a blink of an eye everything is suddenly different.

It wasn’t until a light humming from the kitchen broke the silence did Castiel dare move. He stepped as quietly as he could from around the corner, his eyes falling immedietly on his boyfriends back. Tears erupted before he could stop them, flowed so violently that he lost his breath and choked.

Spinning around, Dean met his eyes. The surprised green soon turned worried and panicked. Dropping the spatula onto the skillet Dean rounded their island and started toward Cas with open arms. “Sweetheart, what’s wrong?”

Just before they could come in contact Castiel shook his head and took a step back, the tears starting to soak his collar bone. With a heaving breath he curled his arms into his chest and tried so desperately to claw him way out of his panic.

“Cas? Hey, I’m right here. Talk to me. Breathe.” Dean’s voice was so broken, so loving that it was the final crack in Castiel’s resolve.

Clearing the tears from his vision, Cas looked into Dean’s eyes with no emotion. “I’ll be going to the market in a couple minutes. If you could pack your things before I get back I think that would be best.”

Dean coiled back as if struck. “Wh-what?”

“I don’t think we need to make it any bigger than it needs to be. I’m giving you the out. You don’t have to be so worried about telling me. Just leave.” Castiel turned his eyes downward and took a shuddering breath that burned the bottom of his lungs. “I’m sorry that I wasn’t enough.”

Dean Winchester stared at his boyfriend. Nothing came from his mouth though he tried to open it to get something out, to question why and to demand an answer to this sudden turn. Instead he stood there, in nothing but his own boxers and an apron, barefoot in their kitchen. He was too shocked to feel the way his entire world was collapsing around him.

“Please.” The word was broken and hitched falling from Cas’ lips. “Please, Dean, if you loved me at all during these few years you will just leave.”

“Why?” Finally his brain started to catch up to the situation. And though he wanted to be angry, angry that Castiel was doing this, he stayed calm. He took deep breaths and stayed calm because whatever was happening it couldnt be blown any farther out of proportion or there wasn’t going to be a possible fix.

Blue eyes soaked in heartbreak flicked up to meet defeaning green. “Because I love you and I can’t stand here and pretend that you didn’t fall in love with someone else.”

“What?!” Dean’s voice cracked from the pressure of the single word.

“I heard you.” Cas waved his arm toward the cell phone sitting on the counter. “Talking to your… your…”

“Brother?” Dean finished the sentence with a pointed look. “Just now? I was on the phone with Sammy.”

Castiel tilted his head as he met Dean’s eyes. “I listened to you make plans behind my back.”

Swallowing visibly, Dean wiped the back on his hand across his forehead. “Sweetheart, there’s a reason-”

“Right.” Castiel nodded, feeling anger flare up his spine. “You really want to lie to me, Dean Winchester?”

“No!” Dean shouted in frustration. “I’m not lying! I fucking love you and I haven’t so much as thought about being with anyone since I met you.”

His eyes drifting back to the phone, Castiel wanted to believe him, wanted to stop this now and hug him and live happily ever after. But that wasn’t life. It wasn’t life when his mother used to believe all his father’s lies. And it wasn’t life when he watched his brother be cheated on by multiple partners.

“Castiel.” Dean took a slow step toward his boyfriend. “I love you more than you’re letting yourself believe right now. And I know that you have issues with cheating and your self worth and so… I need to tell you. Even if we both regret it later. But, sweetheart…”

Fingers slid under his chin, a little force tilted his head so that he could see Dean right in front of him, their muggy breaths mixing between them. All Castiel could see was love, he felt as though he was drowning in it, sinking so low that he might never resurface.

“I’ve been carrying around a ring. I’ve been putting a little of my paycheck away toward it for about a year now. And this morning I called Sam because I have been killing myself over not finding the right moment to ask you. So I called him to ask how he asked Jess, and how he knew when the perfect moment would be.” Leaning forward slightly, Dean wrapped his other arm around Cas’ shoulders to bring them closer without losing eye contact. “I want to marry you, Cas. I want it to be just you and me forever if you’ll let me.”

Castiel’s face collapsed in a sob grimace as his shoulders started to shake and he threw himself against Dean’s chest. His body gave out as he cried and cried and let the waves of emotion roll through him. After minutes ticking by of Dean holding him and whispering to him and pressing kisses to his hair, Castiel finally pulled back.

With a shaky smile he whispered, “I want nothing more than to marry you.”

Dean’s lips turned up into a face splitting smile before he closed the distance between their lips.

Years later, in what feels like a blink of an eye, Castiel is standing in the hospital with his eyes trained on a small sleeping form wrapped in a pink blanket thinking that it feels like just yesterday he said ‘yes’ to a lifetime of happiness.

[thecleverdame]

The Oath - 14

Parings: Dark!Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Story Master List

Summary: After an unsuccessful escape attempt, the reader finds herself taken as a spoil of war. She ends up in the bed of a ruthless Alpha, the son of John Winchester, leader of the kingdom of Gilead. She struggles to conceal her true identity and navigate a society where being an Omega means nothing more than serving at the pleasure of powerful men.

Warnings: non-con, sexual assault, rape, attempted suicide, sexual slavery, branding, torture, ownership, voyeurism, anal play, smut, violence, and murder.

Sam is dark in this story. If any of the warnings are triggers for you, I would suggest skipping this one. Please read and heed all the warnings.

Beta: ilikaicalie

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-

The looming threat of John Winchester grows ever closer. 

For a few days, you have Greta as a company. She’s constantly angry, hovering somewhere on the verge of defeat but she talks to you like you're a person. It’s mostly just her exposition on how much she hates Dean and what she’ll do to him one day when she takes her revenge, but you don’t mind listening. She makes you feel alive and like you’re not in this alone. 

And then one day she’s gone. Dean leaves early one morning taking her with him and you’re again commended to the solitary life of waiting for a stoic Sam who makes ill-suited company. 

-

“Let me see.” Sam sits shirtless on the edge of the bed. He’s covered in a thin layer of dirt and bruises over this chest and arms. He’s been spending long days with the troops. The hoots and hollers can be heard all across the camp. Men fighting each other for sport, and Sam is no exception. He loves a good brawl more than any of them and he often comes bearing the marks of another man’s knife or fist. 

Tonight he waits patiently as you pull up your nightgown and rollover. 

Since the branding, your spirit has taken a blow. Most days you do nothing more than lie in bed. At first, it was to alleviate the pain, but now it’s to alleviate the stark surroundings of your reality. His fingers trail over the mark on your backside, but he says nothing. With a tap at your hip, you roll over and let him inspect the brand on your inner thigh. He unwraps the bandage while you stare at the ceiling. 

“What do you think of it?” he asks with interest. As if you should admire his handiwork. 

“I haven’t looked,” you admit.

“Haven’t looked?” he balks. “It’s been nearly two weeks.” 

“I haven’t been able to bring myself to do it.” 

“Then look now, while I’m here.” When you close your eyes he sighs, wrapping a large, wide hand around your knee and squeezing. “Look at it.” 

Pushing down the dread you prop yourself up, taking a breath before looking down. The flesh is pink, raised and newly healed. It’s a thin outline of the letters S and W with the small recreation of his family’s crest below. 

“Why?” you whisper, staring at the wound. “Why did you do this to me?”

Sam’s confused, a genuine perplexity settles over his face. 

“Because you’re mine.” 

You laugh out of exasperation. This is what life has come to. He marked you because you’re his. It’s so simple. He thinks you should already understand. 

“And to keep you safe,” he continues. “There are countless men, Alphas, that will never see an Omega in the flesh. I don’t want anyone thinking they can just take you. My mark would make any man think twice.”

“Oh,” you counter, anger bubbling up faster than you can suppress it. “That’s why it’s between my legs? So if another man tries to force himself on me he’ll see it?”

“Yes.” He ignores your frustrations and gets up. “You don’t understand it, but you will. That mark is a gift. If you were taken, any man who found you would know who to return you to.”

“You think someone is going to take me?”

“We’re at war. There are no absolutes. Circumstances change in the blink of an eye. Anything can happen.” The muscles of his back flex, growing bruises bleeding into yellowing healed spots from the week before. 

There’s no point in entertaining this conversation. In his mind you should be grateful he’s taken such care to leave you with this declaration of ownership. Luckily, you’ve become a master of redirecting the moment. 

Clearing your throat, you sit up and adjust your skirt. 

“Would you like me to wash you?” you ask, nodding toward the tub from your afternoon bath. “It’s probably still warm. I’ll put some water on the fire to warm it up.”

You’ve discovered over the last month that he responds favorably when you present your plans instead of ask. So you set water to warm. Sam strips down and sinks into the bath without a word. Once the pot is steaming you carefully carry it over to him and pour it near his feet then sit at the side of the tub, taking a cloth and washing his back. 

There’s a deep scar along the right side of his spine. You’ve spent hours looking at it while he’s sleeping and always wondered how it got there. 

“How did you get this?” you ask, a finger trailing over the flesh. 

“My father tried to kill me. Well, actually, he wanted Dean to do it. But of course Dean would never go through with it, so John tried himself.”

“Why would he want to kill you?”

“Because he thought I was something evil. No longer a man.” Sam shrugs. “He’s not wrong.”

“He had to have cut you deep, this scar is massive.”

“It should have killed me outright. But I’m not sure I can die again. I recovered quickly. And my father learned his place in the order of things.”

As the water turns brown, his skin comes clean. The awful scents of other men’s sweat and blood wash away, leaving nothing but Sam. A strong scent that gives a preview of what’s to come. 

“Your rut is coming?” you ask for confirmation. 

“Yes.” He closes his eyes as you rub a cloth across his back, watching the water rolling across taught muscle. “Does that worry you?”

“A bit. I’ve just heard…”

“What have you heard?”

“Sometimes Alphas can’t control themselves. Especially older...I mean...unmated ones.”

He chuckles, breaking into a smile and turns to look at you. 

“Are you calling me old?”

“No, I, no…”

“It’s alright little bird. I am older than most to be unmated. That’s a fair statement. But you don’t need to be worried. I control myself better than most men. You might even enjoy it.”

Two Days Later

His rut overtakes you both. For Sam it’s an animalistic need to have you. And for you it’s desire beyond reason. His scent curls inside you, vibrating, coming alive until you think you might burst if you can’t have him inside you. 

-

You wake up out of a dead sleep, body so stiff you can hardly move. Sam is beside you, tossing and turning in his sleep, his face creased in distress. 

You imagine you seem just as desperate in a heat. Lust and pain and desire all coming together in an animal need for each other. You could fight this feeling; resist giving in to what you want and he needs, but there’s no point. Physical pleasure has become the last ray of hope and you might as well hang on to it for as long as you can. 

“Sam,” you murmur, getting to your knees and lifting a leg over his waist. His naked cock is thick and tall, hot skin thumping against your stomach as you straddle him. 

His eyes are still closed, body radiating the heat of his rut like a fever that’s about to break. His head presses back into the pillow when you wrap a hand around his shaft, stroking down and then up under the head of his cock. Precum drips from the head, and you wipe it away with your thumb. 

In one motion, you lift up and sink back down with him inside you. That familiar stretch sending pings of pleasure out in all directions. 

His eyes pop open, meeting yours in a surprised look before dropping down to where your bodies are joined together. Both hands curl over your hips, fingers sinking into flesh as he rolls you quickly onto your back, sinking balls deep back into your cunt with one powerful thrust. 

The connection you felt to him before is nothing compared to the growing desperation you feel for each other in this moment. There’s an energy building in your chest, pressure swelling as he moves faster, his hips slapping against your thighs. 

Your clit is throbbing, just a feather’s touch away from sending you over the edge.

Sam squeezes his eyes shut in concentration as sweat drips from the end of his nose, landing on your stomach. 

“Please,” you find yourself begging without even trying to speak. 

His eyes open again, looking down at you. With one hand he pushes soaked hair away from his forehead. The room feels as if it’s spinning, the moment careening out of control. 

“I’m going to claim you,” he explains, his eyes just as hungry as every other part of his body. 

“I want it,” you nod vigorously. With one hand you reach up, sliding a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him down for a messy kiss. His tongue glides over yours, tasting, searching, before pulling back. “Please.”

The rest is a blur. His knot thickens, and just as you cum his teeth sink into your neck. His bite is deep but the pain is tempered by the pleasure of your climax. You shake around him, wrapping your arms over his back and holding him as close as you can. 

His dead drops into the crook of your neck, hips still moving until he’s got nothing left to give. There’s hot breath at your pulse point while he licks at the wound. His tongue seals the open flesh, sucking and teasing until he’s as boneless as you and collapses on the bed at your side. 

-

Sam stares at the ceiling of the tent, one hand behind his head and the other wrapped around you where you’re curled into his side. 

He shouldn’t have done it. 

Alphas in Gilead don’t claim Omega’s outside of marriage. You’re meant to be a part of the ceremony, a wedding where he’ll be wed to a Beta of high social standing. Only then would he have the blessing of his father to claim you. 

What the hell happened to his self-control? One moment it was fucking the next minute you were...everything. The whole world narrowed down to the woman in his bed, asking to be his. 

He has to own it, he has no choice. If anyone senses even a hint of trepidation, they’ll take you from him. It’s what should happen, what the law demands. The offending Alpha is beheaded and the Omega paired off with some Alpha who’ll get what he can before she begins to fade. Without her mate, the Omega dies a slow death that sometimes takes years but always kills in the end. 

It’s not that he doesn’t want you. He does. Sam has zero interest in an uptight Beta, but he also knows he should have waited. He’s just created a whole host of complications and his father will be all too happy to find a reason to reprimand him. 

-

You stir at his side, waking up slowly as your eyes flutter open. You’re not truly awake as your mouth curls into a sleepy smile, eyes closing again as you nuzzle closer until your face is pressed into the side of his neck. 

That’s when he feels it, a pang in his stomach that’s there for a second and then gone. He shifts, pulling your body into his, skin on skin while you purr like a happy cat at his side. This isn’t a bad feeling. He doesn’t mind you being bonded to him in such a permanent way and if it keeps you more content, then it’s worth it. But it certainly does impose a whole set of complications he wasn’t anticipating. 

-

“Did you kill her?” Dean inspects your lifeless form, nodding from the bloody sheets, to his brother. 

“No.” Sam looks at you as well, gaze lingering longer than it should. “I claimed her.”

Dean’s eyes go wide, but he doesn’t say anything. He stews in silence for some time. 

“Are you trying to create a situation? You know how dad is going to-”

“I know.” Sam raises a hand. 

“At first I thought she was good for you. You were less agitated, not so much of a temper, but she’s proving to be a problem.”

“She’s my problem then,” Sam snaps back.

[themoonandotherslikeit]

What the Rain Can’t Wash Away- Chapter 15

*FINAL PIECE IN THE LOOK IN HER EYES TRILOGY*

Sixteen years after Lucifer rose and Dean lost his wife, he finds himself with a teenager, a Nephilim, an angel, and his brother living out a Full House rerun with some seriously dark undertones. How will he be able to raise his daughter, fight monsters, and deal with the loss of the love of his life? Sometimes moving on is the hardest part, but with the Winchester’s there’s always something harder around the corner. Isn’t there?

Chapter Fifteen, Of Course She Did

Ava

Four weeks later

Dean was asleep. Sleep had been rare for us in the last few weeks. We all split up. Claire and Jody took one end of the country, going on any lead that Claire could think of. Sam took Jack to the other end of the country, following anything that seemed suspicious. Rowena was working every spell and contact that she had. Dean and I were searching locally, to stay close to the bunker in case she tried to come home. She never did. Castiel hopped in the old truck and drove out to the sandbox which, according to Dean, was a portal to Heaven. I wasn’t sure how Heaven was going to help us, if God was AWOL, but we would take all the help that we could get. Everyone was doing their part.

We didn’t understand how there had been nothing to report in so long, so when Castiel called with news we all rushed back up at the bunker to talk. No matter how much Dean tried to convince him to tell us before he arrived, Cas thought it would be best to be discussed in person.

Dean was asleep, and bless his fucking soul, looking at him made me want to cry. My heart ached for my daughter, for the same little baby who had a pout just like the one that was placed on Dean’s relaxed face as he slept. His eyelashes were still wet from the tears. He wasn’t a crier, but he’d done everything else at this point. He bashed one of the cars with the crow bar, he tinkered with Baby long past the maintenance that she needed, and he drank himself to sleep. We couldn’t find our daughter. She went missing while we were out trying to buy a goddamn bar. We both felt sick about it.

He didn’t blame me, or so he said. He still slept with his arms curled around me, and he didn’t yell, but that was almost worse. We were supposed to be done. It was supposed to be me, Nel, and Dean. We were going to be a family. I never understood how God could allow someone like Dean to be in so much pain. How much did he have to sacrifice before he was done? How much?

I slipped out of bed, sliding out from under his arm. I wouldn’t be gone long, the last thing I needed was to have him wake up alone. I crept out into the kitchen and looked around. I don’t know how to do this. I wanted to scream. I wanted to break something. Instead, I fell to my knees in the middle of the dark kitchen and clasped my hands together.

“Listen here, God or Chuck. Whoever you are. I know you’re on vacation, but we need to talk. You met me before, remember? I came to your house with Dean when we asked you about the books. Yeah, well, as I’m sure you know, my daughter is missing. Dean’s daughter. I know that you care about him. You’ve saved him so many times. He’s your guy , isn’t he? So just... get your ass down here and make it right. Please.”

“I’m sure he will love hearing that,” a female voice said from the shadows.

I sat up a little straighter, my eyes meeting a set of green ones as a redhead in a long dramatic dress stepped out of the shadow. By her thick accent and fiery hair, I recognized her as Rowena, the witch. “I’m not exactly good at praying,” I said forcing a smile. I stood up, dusting the knees of my black leggings. “I’m Ava.”

“The wife,” Rowena said, eyeing me. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Why are you hiding in the shadows?”

“I’m here for the wee one. I just arrived and let myself in.”

It was unsettling to me, how much things changed. Jack, Castiel, Crowley, and now a witch. When Dean explained to me the complicated list of ally’s that we now had, my head spun. He was always shoot and ask questions never . Some things change, I suppose.

“Do you... do you have any leads?” I asked, desperately. I pulled my long sleeved shirt over my hands.

It was mid December. The Christmas lights were blinking all over Lebanon as the town prepared for the Christmas Carnival. We weren’t exactly in a celebratory mood, especially since my last Christmas was spent at the hospital with a newborn and a dead husband. My eyes stung. I wanted to see her, to hold her. I didn’t want to spend her first birthday without her. I wanted to see her turn seventeen.

I always had this idea, that I’d climb into bed with her at midnight on her birthday and cuddle up with her and tell her all about the day she was born. I’d tell her about how strong Sam was, supporting me, and about how beautiful she was. I’d tell her then about how Dean looked the first time he held her. How despite everything, that we were so happy. I’d tell her about when we found out that I was pregnant, and how Dean would talk to my stomach. I’d fall asleep holding her, just like I did when she was little.

Her birthday was so close. I had a bad feeling that we wouldn’t be spending the holiday together.

“I don’t, Ava. I’m sorry. I’ve tried everything I can. The little one is powerfully cloaked. She does not want to be found.”

“How is that possible? She’s just a girl... something must’ve taken her.”

“Or someone,” Castiel’s voice greeted them at the top of the stairs.

I just about jumped out of my skin at the sight of him. “God, you two are so fucking sneaky, you know that?”

Rowena snorted and eyed Castiel. “Hello Angel.”

“Rowena,” Cas said flatly. His eyes looked tired, two purple bags hung under his eyelashes. His whole face looked like it’d aged since the last time I saw him, of course it hadn’t , but the stress was evident. “Where is Dean?”

“He’s asleep. He hasn’t slept at all lately, Cas. I’m worried.”

“He functions off minimal hours.”

“I know that,” I snapped, frustrated. It wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t fair for me to be angry with him. I was just angry in general. “But he hasn’t even slept minimally. Let him rest.”

“Is Samuel back?” Rowena asked, curiously.

“Yeah,” I sighed, rubbing my eyes. “I think I heard him and Jack come in a few hours ago. Jack was talking to Clementine.”

“And Claire?”

“Yes. Her, Jody, and Donna arrived yesterday.”

“Great,” Cas said with a nod. “Get them up. We all have something to discuss.”

“Fine,” I sighed, twisting my wedding ring on my hand. I glanced between the two supernatural beings in front of me.

I went down the hall, gently knocking on the doors that our guests were resting in. Donna was fast asleep, hugging her pillow. She looked up at me with tired eyes and a quick nod, shuffling into her teddy bear slippers. Her blonde hair was sticking up all over the place. “What’s going on?”

“Cas is back, he wants us all to meet in the kitchen. Can you start a pot of coffee? We are all going to need it,” I explained, gripping the edge of the door.

“Oh you betcha,” Donna said, offering an encouraging smile. She met me at the doorway and caught my shoulder in her hand as I turned to leave. I met her eyes once more, they were kind. “We will find your girl, Ava. We always find them.”

I put my hand on top of hers and gave it a squeeze. I didn’t trust myself to respond without losing the little composure that I had left. She was kind, and I understood why the boys attached themselves to her so tightly.

Jody was still up on her laptop when I went by her room. “Castiel is back. Meet in the kitchen?”

She gave me a quick nod, moving her research supplies off her lap and into her arms.

Claire was sleeping in Nel’s room. She wasn’t happy with me and hadn’t been since Nel disappeared and I dldn’t blame her. I pressed an open palm against the door before knocking softly. There was no answer so I opened the door slowly, only to find Claire curled up in a ball in the middle of the bed. She wore one of Eleanor’s sweatshirts from her school, and her hair was back in a messy, haphazard braid. She hugged her pillow tightly. Her cheeks were stained black from crying.

My heart ached for her, because I’d been there. I’d been there more times than I could count. “Claire,” I said gently, touching her hair. “Castiel is back. He has some news.”

The blonde looked up at me with tired eyes, red from exhaustion and crying. “Fine, I’ll be out there.” She moved her head out from under my touch.

“Okay,” I said softly, standing up, my hand returning to my side. I noticed, then, that Jack and Clementine were curled up asleep on the floor at the end of the bed.

“I’ll get him up,” Claire said with a nod. “Go do whatever you need to.”

I gave her a tight lipped smile. It wasn’t about me, she was just afraid, but it still hurt. I always pictured that whoever Nel grew up to be with, that they’d love me. I pictured a lot of things differently than the way that they turned out.

I’d wake Sam, and then the sleeping bear, I decided. I wanted to give Dean all the time to sleep that I could. I knocked on Sam’s door, opening it basically at the same time. “Sam, hey, Cas is back he...”

I didn’t know what I was looking at.

Long dark hair spilled over bare shoulders,  Sam’s beard and messy hair looking up at the woman who was straddling him. She was naked and grinding against him. I was not proud of the anger and embarrassment that bubbled up inside of me. Ava fucking get a grip!

I didn’t realize I was staring at him, my eyes locked on his jaw until he turned and caught me. “Shit,” he muttered, pulling the blanket to cover the girl up. He made eye contact with her and moved his fingers a bit before pointing.

She turned to look at me, and I noticed her hearing aid. His girlfriend, of course!

“Cas is here, meet us out in the kitchen whenever you’re done. Nice to meet you, Eileen,” I said tightly as I blocked my eyes from view.

I turned quickly on my heels and let the door click shut behind me. I pressed my back to the door, trying to calm my breathing. What the fuck was that?  I needed to relax. As fresh as my wounds were with Sam, they weren’t actually fresh. I wasn’t in love with him, but somehow I still looked at him and felt like he was my Sam . He was my best friend, my hero. He was the one who fixed me when I was broken, so sue me if I wasn’t interested in some hoe coming in. That’s not fair, there’s no way Sam would date some hoe. Eileen is probably delightful. Somehow that was worse.

  Dean

I woke up with Ava’s nose brushing against mine, and I thought for just a second that maybe everything was okay. I felt twenty-seven again, snuggled up with the girl I wasn’t supposed to want, but once my eyes opened and the blur of sleep faded, I realized that I was just me. Me in the bunker. Me in this fucking life. I grunted. “Yeah, babe?”

“How are you feeling? Rested?”

I groaned softly, stretching my aching legs. I could sleep more, I definitely could. I could fall back into the world where everything was warm. A world where my kid was safe. Where I wasn’t such a fucking failure. “Kinda.”

“Cas is back,” Ava said softly, her lips brushing the stubble on my chin. “He has news.”

I said straight up in bed. “Fuck, when?”

“A few minutes ago.”

“Why didn’t you wake me?” My heart was racing, my temples pounding. Fucking hell!

“I did, Dean. I just woke you.”

I rubbed my face, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. I was unreasonable. I was a dick. “Sorry, I’m just...”

“I know. Me too.”

Eleanor is her daughter, too. Of fucking course she is afraid. The fuck kind of husband am I? I sighed and took her hand. Just because she didn’t raise her, didn’t mean she didn’t care as much. If anything she was being strong for me, which is more than I deserve for getting us in his fucking mess in the first place.

She laced her small fingers within mine, and I gave her a gentle squeeze. “Hey,” she murmured, tugging me closer. She stood up on her toes, and I leaned my head down to meet her. She pressed her forehead to mine, and I felt a sense of calm wash over me. “We are going to find her. She’s our girl, Dean. She’s our baby. We are going to find her.”

Ava was trying to be strong, but I could hear her voice threatening to break. There was only so much hurt one person could take. I captured her lips in mine. “I know we will,” I said, hoping to god that I was right.

Castiel stood in the middle of the kitchen with his hands in his pockets. He looked fucking beat. Not that the dude slept, but he looked like he needed a nap. “Hey buddy,” I said carefully.

”Hello, Dean.”

Everyone was sitting in chairs, or leaning against the counter around the room. Everyone that we consider family, well, almost everyone. “Where’s Mom?”

“She picked up the scent of another case with Bobby,” Cas said, meeting my eyes. He shook his head briefly.

Of fucking course she did. “Sure,” I grunted, my annoyance obvious. She was always bad at putting family first. She hadn’t exactly been Grandma of the year, so I wasn’t sure what I expected. Everyone was looking to me for guidance. Wasn’t Sam supposed to be the chief, or whatever? I was done being in charge. I was spent. “Alright, Cas, out with it. What’d you find out?”

There was no joy or hope on the angels face, and it left me feeling pretty goddamn empty. He let out a heavy sigh, and it sounded like someone was sitting on his chest. Ava gripped my hand tighter, her spare arm twisted around mine.

“When I went to Heaven the first time, no one had any information. Angel radio has been quiet for awhile. It was essentially turned off since the fall. So I’ve been searching by other means and coming up short. I never understood, though, how a child could be so powerfully warded from me. Especially since we marked her at a young age for her protection. She would be virtually invisible to anyone but me.”

I watched Cas pick his words carefully, his low gravely voice work through the best way to say whatever the fuck he was trying to get out. It worried me that his usual bluntness was being avoided. His news wasn’t good. I could feel it in my gut.

“Cas,” I said to him, and he met my eyes. “Tell me.”

I could feel his gaze burn right through me like sunlight through a magnifying glass. I swallowed hard, my mouth going dry, and my stomach falling through my ass and smacking the floor.

“I spoke to Anael, and she told me what I was afraid to hear. Michael is back. He’s possessing Eleanor.”

I didn’t hear him. It felt like I was underwater. Everything felt muffled. All I could see was the little five year old girl crawling into my bed after a nightmare. My best friend, my little girl with her pigtails and her toothless smile. I felt like I was going to throw up. I released Ava’s grip and turned sending my fist into the wall. There was a deafening crack as the bones in my hands splintered. I fell forward, my legs giving out, only to catch myself with my uninjured hand against the wall. Ava was at my side immediately, holding me up and rubbing my back.

“No,” I grunted. “You’re wrong. She would’ve had to say yes. She never would’ve said yes. She’s smarter than that.”

“She would have,” Claire spoke up. I turned to look at her. Her gaze was hard, fixed, and serious. “She would’ve done it to save you. She is you, Dean. Of course she would say yes.” Her voice was full of hurt, but not surprise. Just a hardened disappointment.

“She shouldn’t have... She... fuck. I’m the parent. She never...” I couldn’t catch my breath, and Sam came to me with a paper bag. I put my mouth to the opening and breathed in and out.

“So what is the play?” Jody asked, standing up from her seated position.

I couldn’t catch my damn breath. I couldn’t hear over the crinkle of the paper bag, but I trusted that Ava was paying attention. This was all too fucking much.

  Ava 

Castiel had an idea of where Micheal would be. Anael was contacted by Micheal initially, but her loyalties were wobbly at best. We just needed a plan of how we were going to capture him, or get him out of El.

It all got to be too much for Claire, and she walked out, her sleeve covering her eyes. “I just need a minute.”

There wasn’t a good answer, not really. We didn’t want to hurt Nel, and even though Castiel was able to mend Deans broken bones in his hand, he wouldn’t be able to heal any real damage that Micheal could do to her. “She is the perfect vessel. Her psychic abilities make her mind strong, and she is a direct line from John and Dean. She is the next sword. He will not give her up willingly.”

We would fight to the death for her. We would do anything.

“I’m gonna make some more coffee,” Sam said with a sigh, he turned to Eileen and signed something brief to her before she nodded back to him.

I glanced up at the stairs. “I’m going to check on Claire. She’s been gone awhile,” I sighed, standing up.

“I’ll go with you,” Dean said, giving my hip a squeeze.

We walked up the stairs and pushed out into the night. It was really late, or maybe it was really early. I took in a deep breath of the crisp winter air and felt my chest sting and my nose tingle. I needed to lose it. I needed to break down, but I couldn’t. I had to be strong. I folded my arms across my chest, and Dean wrapped his arms around me. “Are you okay?”

“Are you?” I asked, my voice not sounded half as strong as I wanted it to. I closed my eyes to try to center myself.

“I’m not, Ave.” He placed a kiss into my hair and buried his face into my curls. “You’re not either.”

A single sob escaped my lips, shook my chest, breaking through. “She’s our little girl, Dean.”

His arms moved up to wrap around my own arms, and he squeezed me gently. He held me tightly, keeping the cracks in my heart from breaking. I gasped a bit and let myself collapse. I cried, my chest shaking, and my head dipping to my chest. It hurt, but letting it out, screaming, sobbing, and digging my nails into my arms.

I let myself relax, when there were no tears left in my body. My eyes were swollen, and my throat stung. I was gasping for breath. “You’re okay, Ave. I’ve got you,” he whispered into my hair.

I turned around to face him, and I hugged him tightly. “I love you with my whole heart.”

He pressed his forehead to mine, his hands rubbing down my back. “Love you with every breath in my body.”

I wiped my eyes and released our embrace to look for Claire. We’d given her enough time. We gave ourselves enough time. Well, at least all the time we could allow.

“Claire?” I called, looking around.

“Biker Barbie? Where ya at?”

The frost on the grass and driveway were undisturbed, and I suddenly had a terrible gut feeling. “Dean?”

He turned to me with a tilt of his head. “What’s up?”

“I don’t think she came out here.”

“Then where is,” he began, before something clicked in his head. I watched his eyes widen and his eyebrows shoot up. “Oh son of a bitch!”

He turned on his heels, pulling me back into the bunker. We opened the door to the garage to see a line of cars, all kept pristine. Dean’s speed picked up as he jogged to the end of the line. He saw it before I did, but by his reaction I knew exactly what happened.

“Mother fucker!” Dean shouted, collapsing to his knees, his fists colliding with the concrete ground of the garage.

Claire took the Impala. She was going after Michael.

—————

Chapter Sixteen, Out of My Mind

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