#i miss dean though ofc

[monstermoviedean]

michael dean is interesting for me because it reads so flat at first glance and i have to remind myself that it only seems like that because i'm so used to dean

[bejeweledinterludes]

i was made for lovin' you.

OR after years of unsaid emotions, supressed feelings and goddamn urges— you and dean finally confront the thing you'd both been avoiding: how there's so much you wanna do in the darkness. and you're gonna make all come true. tonight.

my masterlist

「 pairing 」 : dean winchester x fem ! reader

「 word count 」 : 5.6 k.

「 content / warnings 」 : MINORS LOOK AWAY !!!, lateish seasons (if you squint) dean winchester x reader's first time (not virgins though), unprotected (mostly) soft sex with feelings, feelings, feelings!, aka porn WITH plot!, p in v, handjob, dean being a munch ofc (this is canon. go argue with the wall.), swearing. please let me know if i missed anything!

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from the moment you first met dean winchester while working a case, you knew you wanted to fuck him.

which was a little strange, because you didn't think like that outright about too many men— not ones you knew in real life, anyway.

but here the stupid bastard was, with his annoyingly pretty face and those stupid, big, rough fightin' hands that could touch you everywhere, pull the prettiest sounds right from you—

oh, we're getting way too far ahead of ourselves. you shoved those thoughts away. come on, this was a freakin' case. lives were at stake.

and once the initial secret lust you had finally went away, you realized you were experiencing something much greater than some stupid crush on dean.

because the more hunted with him, you got to see not just the tough, hard-as-nails side of him— but you saw the other side.

his people side.

you got to see the way he interacted with every single person he encountered on a case, not resting until the threat was completely gone and ganked. and sometimes, when a case hit too close to home, he treated victims and affected family no less than his own fuckin' family.

and you knew from your own personal experience that he'd do just about damn near anything for the family he did have. saw the way he got all soft and sweet around kids— and after a good while, even around you.

and that's when you knew you were in trouble.

you'd known dean for years now. and nothing had ever come of you two except him being one of the greatest friends you'd ever had.

but god help you if you didn't want more.

and nothing like a quick fuck, either. no, you wanted to be there for everything— even on those deathly-quiet nights when dean's thoughts got too loud and the debilitating weight he was carrying all alone just got too heavy, you wanted to be the one keeping him afloat.

it was something dangerously close to love.

you tried to ignore it at first. push it down. and it did work-- for a while. until fucking dean started acting weird around you, too.

and now things were... complicated.

you didn't know exactly when things had shifted so much to the point that it almost became unbearable to even be in the same room as dean without either of you knowingly holding back just spilling your guts-- but god, it was worse than dying.

inevitably, one night, it all just snapped.

there was no dramatic fight, or screamed confessions from either of you. no, it happened late in the darkness, when you both were sharing a motel room.

which would have made you fond of all the times you guys had shared motel rooms in the past— you would've smiled at the thought of younger you trying to make the most out of the fact that you had to share a room with a fucking boy.

but dean was now much more of a man than ever before now.

thank god there's two separate beds, you initially thought.

now, though? there wasn't a need for two beds anymore.

because you still somehow ended up in dean's that was closest to the window.

in his lap.

and kissing him.

you were sure you were in just another one of your dreams or fantasies you conjured up to get off— but you could feel dean's hands on you through your shirt, grasping at the fabric. so this had to be real— but just for precaution, you roll your hips into dean's a little.

yeah. that sound he made when he grinds his hips up into your own was definitely real— and right in your mouth.

you knew you were probably moving too fast— but fuck if you cared. your hands sneak in between you both and trail downward on the front of dean's shirt, not stopping until you reach the hem— and your voice is a whisper against dean's kiss-swollen lips.

"arms up, de."

and dean obliges in a heartbeat, raising his arms up over his head immediately— and he's silently praising the fact he decided to just wear a t-shirt to bed.

you actually somehow had only seen dean shirtless once or twice over the years— the latest being last summer when the air conditioning in the bunker was broken, and you conveniently and hurriedly stated that you had to stay in your room the entire day—because it was so much more skin than you were used to seeing.

but now?

you're staring.

dean's looking at you looking at him— and if the motel room wasn't so dark, you could've sworn his face got a little pinker under your gaze.

but you don't dwell on that for too long. because your hands are itching to reach out and just touch— and the moment your fingers start to graze on dean's biceps first, his eyes flutter shut and he lets out a shaky exhale, fighting to keep himself under control.

because it's you that's touching him.

you're still touching him when you lean back and kiss his lips again— and dean is very aware of the fact that you still have your shirt on.

but you have to break the kiss after a while to get stupid air— and your hands are reluctantly taken off of dean's skin, much to his protest. but the words he was about to say die in his throat when he sees where your hands were going.

you grasp the hem of the oversized shirt you were wearing, tearing it over your head and discarding it in the same motion— all while you were silently thanking whatever had possessed you not to wear shorts to bed.

or a bra.

and now, dean thinks he might die.

it was his turn to stare, eyes raking and flicking over every inch of you as you're straddling his lap like he didn't know where to look first— and dean's just so in awe, he says what he was thinking out loud in a barely-audible.

"god, you're beautiful."

you can feel a blush burning your cheeks at dean's words-- and judging by the way his eyes widened ever so slightly when he uttered those words, you knew he meant it. you smile softly down at him, your voice just as quiet as his once was.

"you're not so bad, yourself.''

and that makes the corner of dean's lips turn up in a small, soft smirk. god, he loves you. and he's gonna show you that.

all night long.

dean starts with his hands, the rough callouses trailing up your thighs, hips, waist, stomach, tits, arms, back— fucking everywhere on your bare skin as he stares up at you.

but your hands move on dean, too— touching him everywhere you could reach before you go lower, your fingers grazing on the waistband of his boxers— but you look back up at him again, a silent question in your eyes.

dean looks confused for half a second— until he realizes you're asking for permission. then he nods, his heart feeling warmer than it was before.

you tear his boxers off in one fell swoop— and holy goddamn.

you stare— again. and dean's fighting the urge to roll you over onto the mattress and just taking you.

instead, he forces himself to stay still under you— because the urge to do that and see what you do next is stronger.

dean's smirking up at you. the damn idiot. and then he quietly murmurs out—

"your turn."

you'd almost forgotten you still had your underwear on— oh, but dean didn't forget. the speed at which you yank down the fabric and discard it somewhere in the motel room should be a world record.

you look back down at dean again when you get situated back on his lap— but he's not looking at you anymore.

no, the man gulps at the sight of your pussy being exposed to him— and it takes him a while to look back up at you, his voice low and rough.

"c'mere."

you obliged, one of your hands reaching down and grasping dean's own that had been resting on your thigh.

this was new. oh, so new. dean wasn't new to you by any means, and that familiarity, that bond was still there— but he was new in this sense. this was different.

this was real.

dean was a man who rarely ever got what he really wanted— so you wanted dean to get whatever he wanted out of what was about to happen between the two of you.

"tell me what you want, dean," your voice is a mere whisper. "tell me what you want me to do, and i'll do it."

dean really thinks you should be illegal. you're all he's ever wanted—and you're asking him what he wanted.

he doesn't answer right away— dean's eyes rake over your naked form in his lap, and he's got his hands resting on your thighs as he meets your gaze once more.

"touch me."

you knew what dean meant by that. dean knew what he meant by that. and you both were fully aware of the line you were about to cross. but you weren't even nervous. and neither was he.

so take your hands, reaching down and trailing a path on dean's lower torso before you take him all in your hands.

and dean thinks he might die.

again.

because you start stroking him slowly— you weren't an idiot, you knew if you went too fast at first, it would hurt dean like a motherfucker rather than feel good.

and you're just looking at him, reading his reactions, making sure that it feels good.

all dean can get out at first is your name. he had opened his mouth to say something, but that's all that came out in a broken groan. he's letting out these little broken noises of pleasure— and his head has to fall back on the shitty motel room’s headboard so he doesn't cum right there.

you keep your pace of your hand on dean's dick steady, only increasing the intensity after a few moments when you can tell he needed more— by the way he gripped onto your hip, his rough fingers curling into the meat of your skin— and by the way he was fighting back the moans that had been treating to escape his throat.

it was definitely embarrassing how close dean was to cumming already, he knew that. but he also knew it was because it was you who was bringing him there. not some quick fuck with a chick he'd met that night, or his own hand— no.

it was yours.

and that thought combined with the way you're still looking at him— in awe, like he's something out of a museum, gets him way closer to the edge you were guiding him to.

"i'm— fucking christ, jesus—"

your name along with the man upstairs' son had come out of dean's mouth in a desperate attempt to warn you that he was right there, all because of you.

"i gotcha, dean," you whisper, and your free hand not jerking him off reaches to cup the side of his face as his head's tilted up towards you.

"just let it happen."

and that does it for him.

dean cums hard, his hands clutching on your thigh and part of your hips with all he's got, gasping and groaning, letting little out broken moans the whole way down.

you just guide dean through it with your hand, watching him under you as his skin was all flushed and red now, hair sticking up everywhere (courtesy of your hands), his pupils blown out and half-lidded before shutting fully.

"y'okay?" you whisper, your eyes flicking over dean under you. his own eyes continued to be closed— and you take that time to grab a tissue from the nightstand, wiping your hand clean before looking back and giving dean your full attention.

your other hand was still on his face, your thumb grazing on his cheek now, and for a split second, you almost think dean must not have liked it, or you went too far, because he wasn't saying—

"holy shit."

the curse leaves dean's mouth as his eyes open— and all he can do is reach his free hand up that wasn't grasping yours between the two of you already and rest it on the one cupping his face.

you can't even open your softly smiling mouth to respond, because the next words are coming out of dean's mouth, his voice still raw and rough from the way you just broke him apart.

"you know what i wanna do right now?"

you tilt your head a little to the side, still looking down at dean below you with his back resting against the headboard as you so desperately wanted to know.

"what?"

dean's downright devilish smirk reappears— and his eyes flick down to your almost dripping pussy that was spread as you straddled his legs before looking back up at you, his voice still rough as ever.

"I wanna taste you."

and a strangled sound gets stuck in your throat at the mere thought of dean eating you out. maybe it was a little embarassing how breathless your voice sounded when you leaned just a fraction closer to him.

"then go ahead."

an actual growl escapes dean at that— and you don't need to tell the man twice. he's got you flipped over and pinning you down, your scorching back hitting the cold motel sheets before you can even blink. you stare up at him when he hovers over you, both hands on the sides of your head, holding him up— and he's just looking at you.

but dean doesn't stay like that for too long. his lips hit your neck immediately after he leans down enough— and he starts just attacking at your skin, nipping, biting, sucking— he draws a path all the way down, until he reaches your now sopping pussy.

dean changes his position when he does, spreading your slick inner thighs further apart and settling between your legs, wrapping a strong arm around the meat of your thighs.

but he hesitates for a brief moment. he likes eating out pussy, but did you enjoy it? his pussy-drunk eyes flick up to yours— and you're a sight all spread out for him, your back against the pillows and sitting up a little so you could watch.

"i ain't gonna be gentle. y'know that, right?"

you knew that dean had always been considerate of you, long before this night— for as long as you'd known him, for that matter. but hearing him tell you that he didn't want to be gentle made your gaze soften and a smile tug on your lips as you nodded in response.

"yeah, i know."

and in that moment, dean thinks he loves you.

well, in all actuality, dean knows he loves you— but seeing you all soft and just so goddamn pretty in the moonlight that's filtering in through the motel room window, he's well aware of the blessing that's before him.

dean gives you one last smile— softer this time. then he dives in, burying in his face and going at you full force, his tongue flat and working against your puffy, slick folds before letting out a groan that vibrates everything.

and dean was right.

he was not gentle about it.

your eyes threaten to flutter shut as dean's tounge works on you— but you force them to be half-lidded as you look down at the sight of dean eating you out like a starved man.

and he's looking right back at you as he does it.

your hand flies to grasp onto dean's that was still resting on your thigh as his mouth continues to attack you— and he gladly takes it in his, not faltering his pace once.

you couldn't help but bite down hard on your bottom lip, attempting to contain the moans and noises that were threatening to spill out of you— and dean isn’t having it.

“nuh uh, darlin’,” dean shakes his head between your thighs, talking right into your pussy between flicks of his tongue on your clit. “i wanna hear you— wanna hear how goddamn good i’m makin’ ya feel right now.”

and with that, your mouth drops open almost immediately. it's like a switch flipped in you— and the first moan you let out is his fuckin' name.

"dean..."

christ on a cross. dean had wanted to hear just anything come out of your pretty mouth, but his name being the first thing on the tip of your tongue does things to him.

dean's imagined you moaning his name countless times, of course, but nothing can compare to the real you right now— tits heaving, groaning and eyes fluttering a little each time he brushes on a few sensitive spots on your pussy with his tongue.

now, it's embarrassing how close you are to cumming on dean's tongue. and oh, he notices. he holds your bucking and writhing hips down with his free hand that's not grasping and holding onto yours—

and goes to fuckin' town.

"fuck— dean!" you think you're gonna pass out— because you could barely hear the sounds of dean slurping up your juices and sucking on your clit when you cum without warning, back arching off of the sheets and grinding into his tongue, your grip on his hand becoming almost bruising as the pleasure cascades over you in waves.

dean doesn't look away from you for a second as your pussy flutters on his tongue, moving his mouth slower once more to not let a drop of you go to waste, making sure you're completely spent, pulling soft groans and gasps from your lips.

your legs tremble and shake under the arm that dean had wrapped around your thigh— and he takes a second to just watch you in the post-orgasm state you're in.

"y'okay?" dean's voice is rough but soft at the same time, looking up at you from his position between your legs like you're the night sky itself.

you open your eyes again, lifting your head off of the pillows just enough to see dean's eyes looking right back at you— and oh, he's a sight, his lips, nose and chin absolutley covered in your slick— and his hair's even more messy than before now.

"yeah", you breathe out softly, managing a nod against the pillows. "yeah, i'm all good. c'mere."

dean sees the soft look in your eyes— and his own gaze melts as he obeys, lifting off of the mattress and out from between your legs to hover over you, your faces just inches apart again.

dean can't look away.

and he never wants to.

"you're goddamn gorgeous, y'know that?" dean murmurs as he looks down at your moonlit face.

at that, you reach your hand up in the distance between you two, cupping the side of dean's face— and his head immediately leans into your touch before you whisper back.

"and you're perfect, dean."

dean's chest tightens at that— and his gaze somehow softens even more. no one's ever called him perfect before, and he couldn't think of one person in his life who even believed that to be true.

but you were looking at dean like he was.

you notice dean's reaction immediately— it was hard not to with how close you were.

you meant those words you said to dean— because being perfect wasn't about having absolutely no flaws or weaknesses.

it was about knowing that, and still carrying on anyway.

and then it clicks. because you could talk all you wanted to dean.

or you could show him how perfect he was.

"lemme show you," you whisper before dean could even open his mouth to deny it. "let me show you how perfect you are, dean."

and those words are completely breaking down what little resistance dean had left. his eyes actually get a little misty as he’s looking down at you— because he can't believe you're here, telling him everything he's never heard before.

dean nods— and his voice is shaking with anticipation mixed with pure awe.

"yeah. yeah, okay."

and that's all you needed. you look at dean's face one last time before lifting your head to close the little distance between the both of you, kissing him with everything you had to give him.

you didn't kiss dean like before— that was in a state of pure lust, desire, and want. now, you're kissing him softer, slower, and with purpose.

and purpose was exactly what dean needed. he tries to keep himself upright and hovering over you, but the way you're kissing him has his arms trembling as you're literally melting him.

you only take my lips off of dean’s when the air he and you had been breathing through your noses wasn’t enough— and your thumb grazes on his cheek again as his forehead rests on top of yours, eyes fluttering a little as i whisper against his lips.

“lay down for me.”

you don't have to say it again. dean obliges in a heartbeat, lifting off of you and rolling onto his back in one fluid motion— and you follow behind, tossing your leg over his to straddle him once more

dean’s hands go to your hips once you’re straddling him, looking up at you now— he still looks a little wrecked from earlier, and his chest is rising and falling in a slower, steadier rhythm than before, like he’s trying to calm himself down.

but seeing your naked form straddling him like this once more is just making his heart start to thump against his chest— again.

your hands find dean’s own on your hips,your fingers trailing on his skin, grazing past his wrists and up his arms— you're not exactly slow, but you're also not very fast with it, either.

no, you take your time touching dean all over again, fingertips tracing over every scar and dent you could see and feel as you're straddling him. your eyes flick up to his face, meeting his gaze once more— but you just keep touching him.

"oh, look at you," your voice is an awed whisper while your hands move on dean’s chest, grazing on the anti-possession tattoo he had on his skin. "see? you’re perfect."

and dean can’t help the little shiver your touch brings him right now, even though he's literally just laying below you, half-propped up by the pillows like you once were. he just can’t help it, because you’ve always been able to get the best reactions out of him.

dean swallows hard as your hands continue their journey over his body— your fingertips roaming over his skin, tracing all the scars he’d earned, right across his chest and down to his stomach.

and his breath actually hitches when you touch his anti-possession tattoo again.

your fingers trace on dean’s tattoo, watching and loving his reactions to just your freakin' hands.

and your hands stay resting on dean’s chest, but a little closer to his shoulders, shifting closer to him in his lap, pressing the entirety of your bare body completely against his.

your voice is still a whisper when you talk again, searching his face as you ask him to do what you've always wanted to.

because you needed to show dean how much you wanted him.

"can i ride you?"

if dean was hard before, it's nothing compared to the way his dick almost hurts now, throbbing at the way you asked permission to ride him.

"god, yes" is what comes out from dean's clenched jaw, and his gaze is locked onto yours as his hands rest on your hips.

a soft smile tugs on your lips again, your gaze flicking down for a brief moment when you hear how strained dean’s voice was— and the sight of him hard for you sends a wave of heat that pools in your stomach, making you clench around nothing.

because you needed dean just as badly as he needed you.

your eyes flick back up to dean’s green ones. and you notice that neither of you are nervous for his to happen. this was dean, after all. you'd wanted him in the least friendly way possible for as long as you could remember— and now? it was actually going to come true.

you didn’t have to ask dean anything else, or even say something. he wanted all of you— and you were going to give it to him.

so that’s why you shift a little, reaching down and guiding yourself to sink onto dean, keeping his gaze while your hands are still on his shoulders.

a broken groan escapes dean when you start to lower yourself down on him— and his own body’s reaction to your walls sucking him in just makes him want you even more.

dean lets his gaze travel all across your face— and he’s still looking right into your eyes when he lets himself go completely slack underneath you, letting you take the lead.

your fingers dig a little into dean’s shoulder at the burning sensation of your pussy being stretched— and your breath hitches, hard. your head falls forward a little as you screw your eyes shut.

your mind had felt like it was going over a thousand miles per second, but when your legs finally hit dean's and your pussy hits the base of his dick, everything just... goes away.

and dean couldn’t keep himself completely still anymore. he actually growled a little when he felt you fully sink down on him, and the sound that left him when he feels your tightness around him was a little more primal-sounding than he’d like to admit right now.

"oh, fuck," he breathes out your name, "you’re tryna kill me."

you can only respond to dean’s words with a strangled noise as the burning sensation was becoming full-throttle now, your grip on dean’s shoulders a little tighter, your head still hung as you try to keep my breathing steady.

because you literally couldn’t move yet. it was still the best feeling you'd ever felt— but you had to get used to dean's dick being buried deep inside of you before you could actually start to move on top of him.

and the way you’re holding on to his shoulders right now and how you’re trying to hold back little noises is driving dean insane.

he’s gripping your hips so tight that it has to be almost painful, and his eyes are fixed on you, still watching you while he tries to stay still for you. but it was taking a hell of a lot of effort on his part.

dean's chest is rising and falling fast, and he can’t help it when he finally chokes out your name in a whisper, unable to keep it in anymore.

"move. please."

at dean’s plea, you flick your hips just a little to see if you were adjusted yet.

and oh, were you ever. your fingers finally release their death grip on dean’s shoulders, one of your hands finding and grasping one of his own that was on your hip— and you finally start to move on top of him, rocking your hips into his.

the groan that escapes dean is the deepest one yet, his hand clutching onto yours and his eyes shutting for a moment as he feels you moving, his free hand tightening on your hip again.

"oh, god," dean gasps out, "jesus—"

you let out a raggedy exhale mixed with a moan, attempting to stop your eyes from rolling back into your head as you continue to ride dean's dick. it was hard, but you managed to keep your eyes open and half-lidded and on him, wanting to see his face— and you grind your hips into his faster and harder.

seeing you like this was getting to be borderline unbearable for dean.

your tits are bouncing a little in dean's face, and you're just not letting up, and you're so tight and warm, and he just fuckin' loves you—

dean realizes he's gonna cum if you keep this up.

and the embarrassing part is you barely even started riding him.

so it’s a damn good thing he’s still got a shred of control over himself right now.

"je— s— slow it down for a sec, darlin'," dean manages to get out, gritting his teeth as his eyes screw shut. "please."

the moment those words leave dean’s mouth, you immediately do as he says— you don’t abruptly stop, instead gradually slowing your movements to allow for an easy transition.

your hand trails up from dean's shoulder to cup on the side of his face while your're still on top of him— your eyes then search his when you breathlessly whisper to him.

"you okay?"

dean opens his eyes when you ask him if he’s okay right now, knowing that was pure concern in your words. he’s taking a moment to let his body level out a bit, since you stopped like he asked you to. and when he does, he manages a nod once he’s able to somehow form words.

"yeah, 'm good, darlin’—" dean swallows and takes a big gulp of air. "just got a 'lil too close to the edge for a second there. don’t wanna blow it right now."

an exhale of relief you didn’t know you were holding in was let out at dean’s confirmation— and your thumb almost absentmindedly grazes on the skin of his cheek as your hand was still on the side of his face.

"oh," you also nod, gaze softening as you look down at dean under you still. his words make you feel warm inside, along with a little sense of pride, too— but you still had to confirm. "it doesn’t hurt, though, right?"

"doesn’t hurt,” dean responds immediately. and that’s a bit of a complete understatement, because being inside of you right now felt like heaven. his own hand comes up to where yours is, his fingers skimming over your skin as he smiles softly up at you once more. "just wanna be able to last a 'lil bit longer for you, 's all."

your eyebrows scrunch together at that, and your expression is almost goddamn melted at this point as you look down at dean. you weren't sure why those words impacted you so much, but your chest tightens with emotion before you speak again.

"oh, de," you literally whisper, your thumb still skimming back and forth on dean’s cheek. "y'know you don’t have to do that."

"yeah, i do," dean murmurs immediately in response, looking right into your eyes the whole time he talks. "i've wanted this— you for goddamn years. i'm not lettin' this end yet."

so you don't.

you nod, leaning in and pressing a kiss on dean's lips before you talk again.

"okay," you nod against his forehead. "just move me when you want to, alright?"

dean gratefully nods, too, appreciating your understanding. his hands find and hold your hips again—this time, with less of a death-grip. and after he takes a steadying breath, he starts to move you.

you just let dean work and grind your hips into his own, holding his shoulder and face with your hands, allowing him to take what he needed and set the pace.

after a while, though, dean lifts you up off his dick by your hips a few inches before setting you back down fully, repeating the motion— starting to actually fuck you a little.

you'd been quiet for the most part so far— but once the head of dean's dick brushes against that spongy spot deep inside of you, a string of broken moans and gasps spill from your lips.

and that just spurs dean on.

you'd both waited long enough now. it's been years of stolen looks, suppressed jealousy, unspoken thoughts and feelings— and tonight, you're making it all come true in the darkness of the motel room.

thank god dean's hands had been guiding your hips— because you're starting to unravel faster than you can comprehend. and so is dean.

dean's fucking up into you now like he'll never be able to fuck you again— which you both know wasn't true. and after tonight, you know you'd happily sleep with dean's dick buried inside of your pussy.

it takes only a whimper falling from your lips for dean to know that you're close— and your hand flies down to one of his on your hips again. he gladly takes it, wanting to hold your hand when he cums inside of you—

wait. is he allowed to do that?

"y— oh," dean groans out your name— he has not been silent throughout this entire ordeal, either. broken noises of pleasure and little groans of your name escaped his lips whenever your walls clenched around him. "can i— god—"

you didn't have to ask what dean meant by that. you nod almost frantically as his hand are still gripping your hips, guiding your pussy up and down his dick— and you squeeze his other hand tighter, the one you were holding.

and only then does dean let himself go, again.

your orgasm comes at the same time dean's does— and you both arch into each other and trembling as your moans echo off the motel room's walls. dean's face buries between your tits and groans into the skin while he spills up into you, your juices mixing with his.

you both stay like that for a while, naked, sweating, slick and gasping for air for god knows how long— until dean's raw and breathless voice vibrating on your breasts breaks the silence.

"i think i was made for you."

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you now have two ( 2 ) new message from the author ! ↓

oh heyyy... are any of y'all still here ??? but seriously, on a real note— if you have stayed to the very end: first, THANK YOU for reading! and second, if you enjoyed, please consider SHOWING ME THAT ( reblogs / comments / etc ) because this took me FOREVER to write, and i want to know if my efforts are worthwhile!

OH i also used a very special headcanon from @figthoughts' mastermind brain for this one because mr. dean winchester holding your hand while he eats you out is very much and totally 100% canon for me as well. fig you match my freak like no other and i hope to one day write as good and absolutely filthily as you do HEHE smooches to you my pookie <3

my master taglist (so far): @blossomingorchids @bluemerakis @ambiguous-avery @maddie0101 @titsout4jackles @deansbeer @sunsbaby @emeraldcrs @h8aaz @honeyryewhiskey @supernotnatural2005 @cowboysandcigarettes @soldiersgirl @figthoughts @mostlymarvelgirl @amaris444 @kaz-2y5-spn @littlesoulshine + if i missed anyone OR if you want to be added/taken off, please let me know! <3

[phoenixmuses]

The hunter's heart sank as he heard those final words echoing around his mind. Goodbye, Dean. There was an eerie silence that settled in as the angel vanished in the inky tar, the abyss swallowing him whole before Dean had a chance to even utter a single protest or admission of his own feelings. Countless times, he had been broken, beaten, left for dead, tormented in Hell — but those were the words that could have truly killed him.

"Cas?" he croaked out, a swell of emotions crashing against his chest as he glanced around the empty chamber. The angel always came when he called, right? But this time, there was no response; no warm presence, no flapping wings, no 'Hello, Dean.' A sense of dread wove through the hunter, hands coming up to cradle his head and fingers running through his hair as tears formed in his eyes.

For what seemed like ages, he sat there against the brick wall, trying to make some semblance of sense to it all. There was a mix of grief, loss, anger, confusion, and a sense of betrayal swirling inside him, a dangerous storm that threatened to engulf Dean entirely. How could Castiel cut a deal without them again, after everything they had gone through? How could the angel abandon him without a second thought? How could he think that he was saving Dean when he had damned him to a life without him?

Over the next several months, they worked tirelessly to defeat Chuck; when they had successfully accomplished their goal, Jack had become God, utilizing his new position to fix the damage that Chuck had caused. Meanwhile, Dean had been irritable and restless, drinking much more heavily, and full of rage, much to Jack and Sam's dismay. Still, when all was said and done, there was a pit that Dean couldn't quite fill. Unfinished business, things left unsaid and undone, eating away at him in dreams and in his waking life.

There came a day when Sam and Jack had finally found something they thought might help, although it was a long-shot and held the potential for disaster. But neither of them could see Dean like this anymore, and despite the risks, it was worth a shot if it meant Dean could have something worth fighting for. So, they formulated a careful plan together. Then, Sam waited patiently until Dean was in a decent mood, knowing that the outcome could go either way if it wasn't pitched carefully...

Glancing over the ancient text intently, a flicker of something akin to hope and disbelief ignited in Dean's chest. His eyes widened and he met Sam's uncertain gaze, lips parted slightly as if to speak, but the words were stuck in his throat. Dean wasted no time, eagerly scouring through all their resources and — with a bit of help from Jack and Rowena — they had completed the spell.

There, forming in the very chamber he had lost Castiel in, was a backdoor into the Empty.

"Goodbye, Dean."

He placed one hand on the hunter's shoulder, at the very same spot he'd first held his soul when he'd raised him from hell all those years ago. Before Dean had a chance to react, Castiel shoved him out of the way, away from the danger. With one last tearful look at the man he loved, he turned to face his death with a smile.

Dean Winchester was saved.

He held onto that thought as the Empty swallowed him and dragged him into an endless sleep, as it tortured him with the memories of his failures and regrets; Jimmy, Anna, Balthazar, Purgatory, the leviathan, the Great Fall, Lucifer... There were far too many to count. Years of self-hate and loneliness, of feeling expendable and useless.

Yet, despite it all, he'd succeeded at his mission. He'd told Dean all he needed, and in doing so had saved him one last time. There was no doubt in his mind that the Winchesters and Jack would be able to defeat Chuck. They'd overcome impossible odds many times before. His sacrifice had not been in vain. Dean Winchester was saved.

@phoenixmuses

[zepskies]

Here are some of my favorites! (A revamp of my old rec list.) They will span Tumblr, Ao3, and FF.net, as I did a lot of my early reading/writing on other platforms.

Keep in mind, I probably like several fics from each of these authors, but I'm featuring one or two that I very much enjoyed.

SUPERNATURAL FIC RECS

[OS] = One-Shot || [S] = Series || [HC] = Headcanon

Dean Winchester x Reader or OFC:

Stories are Dean x Reader unless noted OFC.

✦ Alisha Ashton

Clear the Area - [S | Excellent 4-part series!] This is the story of you and Dean, and how he manages to slip past your defenses. Written so that you can put yourself in the OC's shoes. Sorta set end S8. Slightly AU in the fact that Dean, Sam, Castiel, Kevin, and YOU all live in the MOL Bunker. Everyone is healthy. Cas is still an adorably clueless angel with zero tact.

✦ @luci-in-trenchcoats

Feral [S] (Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader) Feral is an Alpha’s most dangerous state. Pure raw instinct. A killing machine with no thought. Only an Alpha under extreme duress can submit to their feral side and they rarely can come back out of it. It takes highly specialized rehabilitation to even have a chance at working. When a feral Alpha comes into the reader’s low level rehab facility one night, she knows he’s a dead man walking. But he doesn’t deserve to die and a split second decision to help him escape before that can happen will put them both on the run. He’s no ordinary Alpha though. He’s Dean Winchester. The boy who went missing all those years ago. The boy that made everyone realize no one was safe from the Alpha black market. The man that could destroy them both with one wrong move…

Headcanon: How They Meet Their Plus Size Girlfriend [HC] (Dean Winchester, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy, and Russell Shaw included)

✦ @deanbrainrotwritings

Wild Flower [OS] Dean gets hit by a spell when fighting a witch and assumes it was harmless or ineffective. He was wrong, but at least he wasn’t dead. He’s a woman now. 

✦ @waynes-multiverse

Creature of the Night [OS] When her car breaks down on a dark lonely road, she is lucky a handsome stranger takes her in. Grateful, she is willing to do anything to repay his kindness.

Headcanon: Valentine's Day [HC] (Dean Winchester // Soldier Boy // Beau Arlen // Russell Shaw – Edition) How would your favorite men surprise you for Valentine's Day?

Headcanon: Gettin’ Down and Dirty with Dean [HC] Smutty headcanons with Dean...

✦ @rizlowwritessortof

Take a Shot [OS] Let’s face it, his henley looks good on both of you…

Late Night Show [OS] You’re spending a little down time at Bobby’s when HE shows up with his brother. You try to ignore those old feelings for him, but when you accidentally walk in on him pleasuring himself, all bets are off. 

Lost in You [OS] A casual flirtation leads to a violent encounter, and Dean’s reaction is a little more than you expected.

That’s How It Should Be [OS] (Sheriff!Dean x Reader) Sheriff Dean Winchester/Reader have to escape, quick - but Dean won’t let being on horseback stand in the way of showing a lady a good time…

✦ @dean-winchester-is-a-warrior

The First Time Series [S] Even though he's a lot older than she is, and more experienced in every possible sense, Y/N finds herself incredibly attracted to Dean Winchester. Amazingly, one day she starts to think that maybe the attraction isn't all one-sided.

The Dangers of Hope [S | Endverse!Dean] When Y/N shows up at Camp Chitaqua with her little girl in tow, her bloodshot eyes leave no doubt that she's infected. Or is she? Everything Dean has come to know for certain over the last five hellish years, is about to be challenged.

It's All For You [OS] After a hunt gone wrong, all Y/N wants is to make Dean feel better. Will he let her?

Things Learned and Unlearned [S] Y/N has spent her life trying to outrun her mother's reputation. When she meets the rich and successful playboy, Dean Winchester, how quickly can he get her to stop running?

�� Lindsey D. Perez

Say I'm Beautiful [OS] You're feeling a little self conscious about your weight so Dean decides to show you how sexy you are. Dean x Reader Warning: negative body image, swearing Rated M for smut so go forth with caution.

✦ @ejlovespie

It Ain't About Pity [OS] (Dean x Plus-Size!Reader) Dean Winchester has eyes for the reader. She has no idea. When he finally figures out why she’s been dieting, he isn’t pleased. 

✦ kittenofdoomage

More to Love [OS] (Alpha!Dean x Plus-Size Omega!Reader) Reader is a hunter, and an Omega, an unusual combination. She’s always been mocked for her size, so she keeps to herself but a case Garth persuades her to take ends up with a confrontation she never saw coming.

Never Spoken, Always Said [OS] He doesn’t say the words much but he shows her every day.

Taste [S] (Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader) The reader is pregnant with Dean's baby. Spanning the first year or so, we join them as they discover new things about each other.

✦ @impala-dreamer

A Simple Kinda Man [OS] Dean’s a pretty simple man. He likes the things he likes and you can rarely get him to change his mind about it. 

Like Heaven [OS] (Dean x Curvy!Reader) Y/N’s request might throw him off for a second, but he’s never going to deny her, not when it feels so good in her arms…

Take a Break [OS] Laundry can be annoying and overwhelming, so it's important to take breaks now and then...

✦ @justagirlinafandomworld

Remind Me [OS] (Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader) There was no escaping what happened to you. There wasn’t a magical number of days in which you would simply get over it either. It happened and you had to live with it. But your alpha would never leave you to work through it alone.

Delicate [OS] Dean made you feel things no one else ever had. But is it a good idea to see this through?

The Fallout (Alpha!Dean x Beta!Reader) [S] When Sam meets his true Omega, you fear your time with the Winchesters is fated to end. Before they can hurt you, you decide to distance yourself. But Dean isn’t willing to let you get away so easy.

✦ @spnbabe67

Girls, Girls, Girls [OS - Part of a Series] (Dean x OFC) While on a witch hunt Dean gets hit with a spell. Later at the hotel, Dean feels the effects of the spell and Tori has to help him through it.

✦ @chevroletdean

NSFT Alphabet [Dean Winchester] [HC]

Masturbation [Dean Winchester] [HC]

✦ @thatonewriter15

Unspoken [OS] How many reasons are there to love Dean Winchester...?

✦ @iprobablyshipit91

Twenty Minutes or Less [OS] Dean raises an eyebrow at you, cocky smile firmly in place. "I bet I could get you there in twenty minutes or less.”

Magical Blooms [OS] After all, there was a flurry of customers walk through the doors to Magical Blooms each and every day, and quite a number of these were regulars. Just because one of those regulars was an undeniably gorgeous man that flirted shamelessly...

✦ @jawritter

Feral (Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader) [S] True mates don't exist, at least that's what everyone tells you. It's nothing but a childish, fairytale notion to believe that such a person exists. Someone that is made just for you, your person. Who knew they were so wrong…

✦ @marvelfanfn2187a113

Here For You (Dean x Little Sister!Reader) [OS] You help Dean through a couple different kinds of pain.

✦ @deanwinchesterswitch

The Girlfriend Who Remade Christmas [S] Dean’s holiday spirit is nowhere to be found. Fed up with his Grinch-like behavior, Nicole is determined to open his heart again to the wonders of the world around them and help him find joy in the Christmas season.

✦ @spnexploration

Collared [S] Sam and Dean save a woman from where she has been held as a slave by a witch. But things turn dark whenever they try to take her magic collar off, leaving them with a slave to look after and a curse to break.

✦ @kaleldobrev

Old Man [OS - Part of a Series] Dean never had a problem with the age gap between you two; not until now any way.

✦ @deanwritings

Friends with Benefits [S] After walking in on Y/N following a fun encounter, Dean and Y/N decide it would be beneficial and much easier to use each other for their needs. But can they keep it just about sex?

✦ @waywardxwords

Safe [OS] You had hoped to get in and out when you heard what town the next hunt was in. Unfortunately, you can’t outrun your past. You, also, can’t outrun those old feelings--panic, anxiety and fear. You had hoped you’d never have to share this part of your life with Dean, but things don’t always work out the way we had hoped.

Witches [OS] While hunting a witch, you accidentally stumble upon her collection of sex pollen. 

✦ @acreativelydifferentlove

Carry On [S] (Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader) You’re an Omega in a small rural town. When your father’s gambling and drinking leaves him with a debt he can’t afford to pay, he offers you to a group of Alphas. Dean Winchester is an Alpha desperately trying to escape his past and pain. Can you save each other?

You're Home [S] (Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader) After years away at college, you have finally returned to your home town. In order to settle back into the community, you have to seek permission from the Head Alpha. What happens when you see his son for the first time since presenting as an Omega?

✦ @deanwanddamons

Helping Hand [OS] Dean is tired after a hunt, so asks Sammy to drive Baby. You and Dean cuddle up in the back seat.

✦ @mind-empty-just-fictional-people

Love Language [OS] You’ve never said it, neither has he…is that weird?

✦ @pink-sparkly-witch

The Widow [S] Sam and Y/N are happily married, but everything changes after a fatal car accident leaves her a widow. The Winchester motto: “Family Don’t End with Blood,” takes on a whole new meaning for Y/N as she navigates her new normal with the help of her brother-in-law, Dean. But what no one can tell her is what happens when she falls in love again.  

✦ shirleypositive72

While They Dance On A Pin (Jane Series 5) [OS - Part of a Series] (Dean x OFC) Sam, Dean, and Jane have been on the road almost constantly since Dean's return from Hell. They're finding Seals, finding danger, finding out each other's secrets. But it's what they find when they open the door to one more motel room that sends Dean back into his darkest moments. An OC's experience of episode 4x16, On the Head of a Pin.

✦ BeccabooO1O

She's My Cherry Pie [OS] Dean was drunk. So terribly drunk. And it was hilarious. Just some karaoke!Dean (aka the best Dean of them all).

✦ @pamwritessometimes

Roots in My Dreamland [OS] Dean encounters a mysterious forest spirit who’s an enigma.

✦ @supernotnatural2005

Sexual Encounters with Dean Winchester - Edging [OS] Exploring new kinks with Dean. How far can you push him before he breaks?

Happy Accidents [OS] (Dean x Plus-Size!Reader) You haven't seen the Winchester's in over a year, but the case you're working has you scratching your head, and who better to call than some old friends. However, insecurities arise as well as the reprise of a long time crush. Little do you know, it's reciprocated.

Lebanon [OS] A wish gone wrong right brings back a familiar face. However, you all soon discover it's not as simple as it seems when what you’ve all accomplished, and your family, hangs in the balance.

Burning for You [OS] You're pregnant and it's awoken something feral, something instinctual in Dean.

✦ @ambiguous-avery

When He Slides In [OS] And says “Fuck, I missed you.” After a hookup with the (in)famous Dean Winchester, you figured that would be the end of it. Too bad you could never seem to get him out of your mind. People always told you that you got attached too easily. And they were right. You were just another notch in his belt. He couldn’t possibly remember you...

✦ @bettystonewell

To You I Belong [S] (Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader) Dean isn’t looking for a mate. Not only does he think he doesn’t deserve one, but the last place he expects to meet his soulmate is while on a case. Fate ain’t real. He still has free will, and saving you from monsters is just another part of the job.

Another Notch on His Belt [OS] Every little part of him is holding onto every little piece of her, and any other woman he’s been lucky enough to escape his life with. Even if it’s only for the night - or - Dean replaces intimacy with sex.

✦ @lamentationsofalonelypotato

It's Not a Big Deal [S] (Dean x Reader x Soldier Boy/Ben love triangle) Dean's in for a rude awakening when he finds out exactly what you did when you got stranded in another universe.

✦ @thoughtslikeaminefield

Deep [OS] Dean shows her more about pleasure than ‘deep’.

✦ @cheynovak

Four Men, One Birthday [OS] A birthday gift to me from lovely Cheyenne. 💜 Four birthday themed stories with Dean, Beau Arlen, Soldier Boy (Ben), and Russell Shaw.

Dean Winchester x Lisa Braeden:

✦ adventuresinposting

Damages [S] Ben is in a car accident causing a fractured skull. Consequentially he remembers Dean. Ben tries to find Dean, who is now a retired hunter after losing Sam in a final battle. This is the story of Dean finding something and someone to replace the hole in his life left by Sam.

✦ FaithDaria

One Step at a Time [OS] The Winchester way of life changes, and Dean adjusts accordingly.

✦ bloodmagik

A Dad By Any Other Name [OS] Ben is sick and Dean stays home with him while Lisa is at work. Lisa learns something about Dean's relationship with Ben.

Sam Winchester x Reader or OFC:

Stories are Sam x Reader unless noted OFC.

✦ Avrilando

While You Were Sleeping - [S] (Sam x OFC) A seriously injured unconscious man is in the hospital Rachel volunteers. With no idea who he is and if anyone is looking for him, Rachel decides to keep him company while he's sleeping. With The Eyes of a Loving Man [S] (Sequel to While You Were Sleeping) Continuing through Sam and Rachel's relationship with all the highs and lows of dating a hunter. Mostly a collection of oneshots and some connecting stories.

✦ Lindsey D. Perez

It's Your Birthday [OS] The Winchester's find out it's your birthday and insist on celebrating with lots of alcohol. Sam introduces you to body shots and things get heated. 

If You Give a Moose a Muffin [OS] ...he'll want kisses to go with it.

✦ ALoversDream

All of Me [OS] (Sam x Plus-Sized!Reader) Request where the reader (even thought she's usually pretty confident) is slightly insecure about her looks, and because she's plus-size. It ends in fluffy weight smut.

✦ BeccabooO1O

Could Have Told You That One, Winchester [OS] Imagine sitting one Sam's lap while you two are researching. She was reading one of the books about mythology for the Winchester's current case when she heard a frustrated groan from across the table. Sam Winchester had his laptop in front of him and various books of lore scattered around it.

✦ @princessmisery666

Samnesia [S] (Sam x OFC) Brooke is a calming distraction from the chaotic mess of Sam’s life. When a hunt keeps them separated for over a month, Sam returns to find she no longer remembers him. The need to find out what happened while he was gone sends Sam on a case that will change the course of his life. What he discovers along the way will change the way he looks at love.

✦ @ohsc

Delicate [OS] Sam being intimate with an inexperienced reader.

**I will keep adding to this list as I read and explore! Please reblog the fics you read and let these amazing authors know what you thought of their work. 💜

I have several more stories favorited on my FF.net account. (Beware if you try to read any of the stories I wrote there though. Some of those are old as hell and not to my current standard. 🤣)

Dean Winchester AU Fic Rec List

Original SPN Fic Rec List

Supernatural Masterlist

Main Masterlist

[mer-acle]

I think I already need more on Modern Athena

very fair XD

Some funfacts (why do i have the feeling I'm just gonna dump Athena's trauma again)

Metis died in a car-wreck when Athena was only a couple of years old. She had been raising Athena on her own until then because Zeus very ironically accused her of cheating and Athena not being his kid. (Which isn't true, you can tell from how alike Ares and Athena look.) Athena was in the car as well and was cut out of the wreck by firefighters (with an axe because mythology. sorry Ath). She has no memory of it but she doesn't have her own car to this day, she takes the bus or Ares drives.

Ares is never viewed that way, but he is in almost every way the more functional sibling. He takes to living on his own incredibly well right away, he loves cooking, has his routines, just has life down. Athena can cook, but she only does so when it's for both of them, not just for herself. Ares is very often like do you even know people are supposed to have three meals a day? (Her standard reply is "Maybe I'd know if I'd studied medicine instead")

Speaking of, Athena studies Law. She is not too happy with it but it's what her father expected and now she's like four semesters in so we ain't quitting now. She is good at it ofc, she's an academic prodigy, but it is really not good for her

Athena's boarding school was located by a lake (not a safety hazard at all) She knew how to swim, but a couple of the kids pushed her in once and held her under to scare her, and she stayed the hell away from bodies of water ever since.

Ares' and Athena's last name is Dean bc it's close in sound to (pan-)theon lol Aphrodite's last name is Vincent bc it's close in sound to Venus, and yes, both of these will only be used as "Miss Dean" bc saying "Athena Dean" makes my skin crawl lmao (also yes I know these are American names bc this AU is very much for fun so I'm setting it in "Hollywood America" to cut down on research)

Athena has an owl plushie her Mom made for her by hand. She inherited her Mom's sewing machine and alters and fixes all the clothes in her family

Both of the siblings are into sports, though Athena has a lot less time for it. She's the agile one, has pretty impressive rockclimbing skills and used to be in fencing class in school bc that boarding school was bougie af. Ares is more of a gym guy and does martial arts, he's in a new dojo now bc of the move, but he used to train the younger kids and would like to do that again soon.

Athena works part-time as a transcriptionist to pay her half of rent. She is very efficient and fast with it which is good to have any amount of free-time. When times are particularly difficult she takes up odd jobs here and there. I am still struggling what job I will have Ares train in bc technically I should put him in the military but then he'd be in a military camp and I want my war sibs to live in their lil apartment together :(

Zeus is def the kind of person who bemoans the amount of child support he has to pay when he is a) filthy rich bc inheritance and b) could just keep it in his pants.

Athena is the one who loves olives, Ares is the one who hates them XD

hope this quenches some of the thrist hehe

also i still don't have a name for this AU it goes by #placeholder tag for now :,)

[deanbrainrotwritings]

— CITY GROWN WILLOW

SUMMARY : in which dean doesn’t die in 15.20 and he’s a stay-at-home dad (hot as hell) and the reader works at a company (vague as hell).

PAIRING : dean winchester x fem!reader

CHARACTERS : dylan (OMC), andy (OMC), daphne (OFC)

WARNINGS/TAGS : nsfw(18+), smut, pregnant sex, oral sex, fluff, ANGST, sexual harassment

WORD COUNT : 7.1K

A/N : title from radio company’s song. I wrote this while rewatching the Winchesters 😭 god, I miss dean so bad. also, I edited this while watching she-hulk when it was airing. anyway, enjoy this long masterpiece since I’ve been neglecting y’all :( X

Y/N chuckled softly at her colleague Dylan. He’d been a good friend for two and a half years. Ever since he started to work for her, he’d been really helpful and cooperative, taking the lead when she wasn’t there to make sure everything was still as it should be.

They had a meeting to talk about a project he wanted to speak to her about and Y/N had accepted his request to hear him out. She was a little confused by the fancy place he’d chosen, but she’d gone anyway and left Dean with the twins and Mavis. He’d whined and pouted adorably before kissing her goodbye even though he knew days before she’d be busy that night.

She’d been nervous for a month. And yeah, maybe she accepted Dylan’s offer because she didn’t want Dean to see her naked, or more.. the bump that started to show which she hid beneath loose dresses like the current black kimono dress her best friend Daphne got her for Christmas.

She made multiple excuses the whole month to not be near Dean, either in the morning or the night, when he was still awake, but she made up for it by buying him gifts and having lunch with him during his break. Innocently, no funny business. And she’d told no one she’s pregnant, as if it made it any less real that she was carrying a baby inside her when the last one she and Dean had was barely five years old.

She wasn’t sure she could handle it or that Dean could—but mostly, she didn’t think she could.

So, she declined the red wine Dylan ordered for her—which irritated her a little because he knew she never drank in the first place. And she didn’t make a big deal out of it, chalked it up to his busy mind forgetting, and slowly started to eat her meal while listening to him talk about things that had nothing to do with work. She let him talk about whatever he wanted to because the more time she wasted at the restaurant with him, the less chance she had of seeing Dean—well, the less chance she had to spend the whole night lying to him about the fact that she was pregnant.

Dylan relaxed a little against the booth, but she remained tense, her mind racing about the thought of her being pregnant but also about how to tell Dean. That’s how she’d spent most of her month. Her mind was someplace else, but her body was still in reality, automatically being attentive so no one would ask her what was wrong. Although, she may have missed the hints Dylan had been throwing her way, comments about how she looked more beautiful than usual, and how she was the perfect woman a man could ask for.

She’d shrugged it off the way she usually did, not really wanting to deal with the fact that her friend was literally flirting with her. Mostly, not wanting to accept that the only reason he got close to her was because he had romantic feelings for her, knowing in full that she was married and had kids. But especially not wanting to think too hard about the way he’s tried touching her, knowing she was married, but also, knowing that she didn’t like to be touched. And though she should have paid more attention, should have talked to Dylan directly instead of saying ‘stop’ or ‘no’, after she recoiled from his touch and shoved him off of her when he’d go for it again with a little more force… she didn’t think she needed to say more since she had made it clear that his advances were undesired on her part.

When she dumped work and projects on him so he could take half of what she had on her plate—a clear sign that he was just a colleague and a friend to her, she’d imagined he’d hate her. Instead, he took it as her wanting to spend time with him. Even though when he got her to talk, all she could talk about was Dean and her kids. When he’d make unpleasant comments about Dean’s job or the way Dean dressed, she’d defend her husband with a little confusion and ferocity while Dylan just laughed it off and claimed he was joking.

If she thought about it too hard, it hurt so bad on top of the fact that she was too stressed with being in charge of the Space Technology and Exploration section of Morningstar Industries, making sure her kids were doing good in school and knowing she was present in their lives, but also making sure she wasn’t fully neglecting her wonderful husband who truly didn’t deserve that she was lying to him.

Then, she’d been afraid for a while when she’d spoken to the board director, Andy, her close friend, and blurted out how uncomfortable Dylan had been making her feel with his words and his actions. He’d stared at her worriedly, anger darkening his eyes which she’d nearly missed, and then she forgot about it in between all her work and the mess in her brain.

But it all seemed so much worse at night. When she’d return from work, when she’d cry in the shower, and then laid in bed with her mind racing endlessly so she’d wake up as exhausted as she’d been before she slept.

There were too many things and her temper was short, overstimulated by all the tiny things that she could usually handle a little better than she had recently. And she dreaded to think of the possibility that she’d hurt Dean’s feelings, or Wanda’s, or Bruce’s, or Mavis’. And she worried about having done something wrong when she signed off on projects or something else because she simply wasn’t retaining the information on the endless sheets of paper.

She even had a copious amount of work and projects that she left half-finished, which was mostly normal, but it had now piled up to being too much, and when Dylan offered to help her, he’d been like a hero to her. He took most of the weight, but clearly expected something from her that she was never going to give.

When he’d finished and she’d abandoned her plate of food, only capturing the first and last topic he’d spoken of—which was typical as well—she’d smiled at him tightly. She was so good at pretending she’d listen because she usually could. Typically, she missed a few bits and pieces of information—since her mind went off to think of something to add to what the other person said, where she’d stop herself outwardly, but internally continued her own monologue and completely forgot about what the person was saying, which was never her intention.

Dylan leaned forward slightly, his eyes suddenly different, his soft and slightly moist hand landing on top of hers—specifically the one that had the white gold wedding band and engagement ring Dean picked out. She froze, stared into his icy blue eyes with her breath caught in her throat, suddenly all her thoughts were silent, but just for a moment before they started up again thinking of all the things this could mean.

“I didn’t just want to talk about work…” he started, his soft voice made her stomach churn and she didn’t know if it was the fact that she was pregnant, stressed, if it was the food she partially ate, or simply the disgust she felt knowing where this was going. “We’ve been spending a lot of time together and I.. well, I always thought you were breathtaking and.. I think you feel the same about me… you know? I.. I’m in love with you…”

She had to swallow the bit of bile that raised up her oesophagus, sweat breaking out on her hairline, her heart beating fast. She moved her hand out from under his and his cheek twitched with irritation when she reached for her glass of icy water and downed all of it. The cold liquid swished around her insides and she felt too suffocated, grateful that people were mostly quiet, that the tables were separated from each other, and that the lights were mostly dim because she would have had a fit and left dramatically from overstimulation.

He cleared his throat and she looked up from the white cloth that covered the table, his long dirty blond hair fell over one half of his face and he chuckled nervously, reaching over to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“I’m married,” she reminded him lamely, recoiling at his touch. His hand froze midair and he wrapped it around her wrist where her electronic watch rested. He played with the magnet of the steel band and scooted forward across the table until she could smell the wine in his breath.

She really had been so oblivious all this time.

When the watch turned on to reveal a picture of Dean carrying both Wanda and Bruce when she’d given birth to them, he glared at it. Guilt from lying to Dean and shame from having missed all the signs of harassment burned up her throat to the tips of her ears.

“Lots of married people have affairs,” he commented offhandedly. Her lips parted in shock, her brain moving slowly when he slid around the booth to sit next to her. Her heart nearly jumped out of her chest, fearful when his hand appeared on her knee, his thumb brushing against the inside of her thigh.

“I’m pregnant,” she blurted out. He froze, staring at her in surprise, but he had something for that too somehow. While she felt a sense of relief saying it out loud, the fear that had frozen her in her seat still hadn’t dissipated.

“That’s not a problem,” he said calmly, leaning forward, but she moved back until his hand stopped her by covering the back of her neck to pull her towards him again. “People can still have sex when they’re pregnant.. Stop playing hard to get, I know you want me.” Suddenly all her weakening emotions flew out of her body until anger boiled over her blood. She got up abruptly and glared at him, shoving the table into him, trapping him from escaping and also making her neglected wine glass tip over to stain his suit in red. “What the fuck?!” He hissed angrily, failing to even budge the table away from his body.

“I’ve told you over and over again not to touch me,” she spat, “and if the way I always moved away from you wasn’t a fucking obvious sign that you disgust me, I hope this helps: you’re fucking fired.” She picked up her bag and shoved the chair she’d been sitting in with the back of her knees until it nearly fell over. Suddenly people looked at them and Dylan looked away from her, smiling as if everything was okay, but there was anger in his eyes when he looked up at her.

“You liked it, you whore,” he growled, shame wrenched her heart and tears pooled in her eyes, “stop victimising yourself when you’ve been leading me on for two years.” Instead of saying anything, her tongue heavy in her mouth, she turned quickly and made her way out of the restaurant. His words stabbed her chest until she couldn’t breathe because she suddenly felt like she should have done so much more to stop him and she began imagining all the times she’d shrugged him off but should have been more clear and assertive about not wanting his touch.

Maybe it was her fault after all and she shouldn’t be complaining.

“Miss!” A woman’s voice stopped her as she shoved the glass door open, a sob tearing its way out of her throat when the cold air pricked her hot skin. “Are you okay, dear?” The lady asked softly, keeping a safe distance as Y/N cried quietly, looking at the ground in shame and embarrassment. “Honey, pass me your handkerchief,” she ordered and footsteps came closer and Y/N only felt the soft cotton collect and absorb her hot tears.

“I need to get home,” Y/N whispered, trying to smile, but she knew not a muscle in her face relaxed as she looked at the older woman and her husband.

“You shouldn’t be driving right now,” her husband spoke up worriedly. Y/N glanced over at him and felt another wave of pain pour through her eyes with heat and salty stings just from the kindness that seemed to crack and burst out all the emotions she’d been pushing down for a month.

“Oh, darling,” the woman spoke softly, gently taking Y/N’s purse from her tight grip and fishing her phone out easily. “Is this your husband?” She quickly accessed Y/N’ contacts and went to the emergency list with Dean’s name at the top, with a squirrel and a green leaves emojis. Y/N nodded, embarrassed, and took the handkerchief with the initials H.H. to wipe her own tears even though now, she couldn’t stop them from spilling uncontrollably.

While Y/N continued to look down in shame, people walked around them, minding their business. Even people who clearly saw the scene were exiting the restaurant and ignoring them, too. She relaxed when the woman’s expensive and warm perfume engulfed her, reminding Y/N of her mother when she rubbed her gentle hand up and down her back. Y/N’ phone rang once and Dean picked up.

“Sweetheart?” His voice was deep with sleep and warmth melted her heart and sweetened the bitterness when the sound flowed to her heart like honey and tea, but the tears kept falling as she cried silently in the woman’s arms.

“Hi, I’m Jan,” she started but Dean immediately cut her off.

“Where’s my wife?” She heard the panic and guardedness in his voice and she nearly took the phone knowing all the worst possible scenarios that rushed through his mind, but the woman smiled fondly.

“I’m here with her,” Jan reassured him. “Could you come pick her up? She’s…” Jan gazed at Y/N, her gaze piercing her walls as if she knew everything but also, failing to find the words to not invalidate or exaggerate Y/N’s experience and emotions. “You should be here. My husband and I are staying here with her and we won’t leave her side until you’ve here, she’s safe with us. You have my word.”

Dean was silent and Y/N didn’t know if he was frozen in fear like she’d been minutes before or if he was leaving the house in a hurry until heard him thank Jan while breathing heavily and heard the familiar creak of the Impala’s doors before he said goodbye, promising to be there as quickly as he could.

And he did. But not fast enough to have witnessed Dylan shamelessly try to get to her. But Y/N was glad he didn’t because she was humiliated enough already and felt so much gratitude towards both Jan and her husband. Her husband, Harry, who had shoved and insulted Dylan, then threatened to plaster his name in the paper for what he’d witnessed him doing.

The beautiful rumble of Dean’s car made her heart leap with relief and excitement, fleeting emotions that were replaced with the same bitter ones when she saw him in his pyjamas, the bags under his eyes, and the worry that deepened his frown and creased between his brows when he saw that she had been crying.

Dean quickly jogged towards her, looking at both Jan and Harry with confusion and wariness until Jan slowly let Y/N walk weakly towards Dean. Jan’s heart was both breaking and melting when Y/N slumped against Dean’s body, crying again—as hard as she had when she stepped out of the restaurant.

Dean held her tight, kissed her temple and let her calm down in his embrace. The kind couple stepped forward like a wall that gave them privacy from the few people that watched what was happening. The tiredness Dean felt was replaced with adrenaline, but upon finding Y/N safe from physical harm, he allowed himself to just be there for her, hurting about the fact that something else had harmed her, something that he couldn’t kill or fight off.

“Let’s get her in your car, son,” Harry suggested, smiling kindly at Dean. Dean nodded and hesitantly pulled away, refusing to look at the anguish on Y/N’ face so he could remain strong. He let Jan guide Y/N into the passenger seat, keeping an ear open for the way she spoke quietly and kindly to Y/N before he spoke to Harry.

“What happened?” Dean asked, the feeling of inadequacy making him cross his arms over his chest, covering the white t-shirt Y/N had given him as a joke a few Christmases ago.

“I…” Harry paused, glancing over at his wife and at Y/N. “A man she was having dinner with just.. treated her terribly and said such horrendous things. My wife and I heard most of it… He was out of line, completely disgusting, and was a huge, immature asshole.” Dean’s jaw clenched and he glared over Harry’s shoulder, behind holes into the glass building. Had Dean been Superman, the entire building would have been demolished. “Son?” Harry broke Dean’s glare and patted his shoulder. “I could have that man’s reputation destroyed. When your wife opens up, give her time.. give me a call.” He handed Dean a card and Dean took it nodding while he read Harry Holden, the newspaper name, his email, and number on the other side.

“Thanks, sir, truly,” Dean finally told him, getting in the driver’s seat and waving goodbye to the two people that gave him hope that there were truly kind people out there, people who still do the bare minimum and also go out of their way to do something good just for the sake of decency.

Y/N played with her dress and avoided Dean’s gaze, flinching a little when he put his hand on her knee. Dean felt hurt for a second, then composed himself as he drove away, deciding quickly that they should stay somewhere else for the time being, until she felt better.

He stopped at a rather expensive hotel and saw her finally look at him, confused mostly by his decision. Her face devastated his heart more than any tragedy he’d faced because he wasn’t used to seeing Y/N the way she looked now. His heart sank to the deepest pit as if turning his skin inside out, leaving his heart bare and broken until it stopped beating, unable to start up again.

“D…” she whispered. Her cold hands on his face brought him back to his senses, thoughts about his actions ran through his mind and suddenly he found himself synchronised with her.

“I’m calling Daph,” he told her, shoving his hands into his pockets and calling Daphne who picked up nearly as quickly as he had, tiredness coating her voice along with a yawn. “Hey, I need to ask for a favour,” he started.

“Sure, Dean-o,” she mumbled.

“Could you check on the kids?” He asked, then elaborated. “Y/N and I are… we’re gonna be away from home for a few days.. is that asking too much? I’m sorry, I know it’s sudden-”

“Dean, don’t stress about it,” she reassured him. “I’ll be there in ten, you don’t have to explain, you know I’d do anything for the two of you.” Dean sighed a breath of relief and relaxed, too afraid to look at Y/N.

“Thanks so much, you’re… the best friend we could ask for.”

“Don’t mention it. Love you guys, be safe!”

Dean sat in silence for a while before taking his wallet and pulling out his card to pay for the room. Y/N let him take control of the situation even though she wanted to argue and not be far from home, but maybe she needed this. A little getaway with her husband to finally tell him she was pregnant and to ease his mind about what had happened because now that she was calm, she felt ridiculous and ashamed.

“Come on, baby, take your heels off,” he spoke softly, leaning over to open the door before he locked the car. He got out and jogged around the front to get to her side, opened the door and picked her up bridal style.

Dean made his way to the hotel and smiled at the young man at the front desk, tucking Y/N’ head into his neck, her arms holding him tightly as he made his way to the elevator without a word and to their room, both of them practically empty-handed with her purse dangling off his shoulder.

“I wanna shower,” she murmured when he set her down on the bed. He only turned the lamps on so it wasn’t too bright and she appreciated it. He nodded and started to undo the belt around her waist, taking note of her tense body, so he slowed down and stopped unbuttoning the dress.

“Is this okay?” He whispered, waiting for her to speak up before he made a single move. She nodded and whispered her consent, letting him unbutton the black dress all the way, pushing it off her shoulders, his eyes glued to the thin, gold necklace her brother gave her on her birthday.

He expertly unclasped her lace bra, his fingers brushing gently across her skin made her shiver pleasantly as he removed it. His eyes fell to her breasts but he kept his mind out of the gutter, watched her put her hands flat on the bed and lift her hips for him to remove her matching black panties.

It was so intimate. He inadvertently turned both of them on.

His fingernails gently grazed the skin of her hips, their breaths growing heavy, his fingers slowly pulled the lace down her legs and off her feet. He didn’t dare to make anything sexual, as much as he wanted to fuck his worry and adrenaline away, he was being more mindful of what she needed.

He helped her up and didn’t stare at her naked body when he removed his shirt and pyjamas, only a little embarrassed that he wasn’t wearing any boxers. He led her to the bathroom as he warmed up the shower, his hand extended to get the water to the right temperature. She bit her lip anxiously in the meantime, her arms keeping her small bump out of view, tears building up again when he turned to face her.

His face fell and his beautiful hands were on her face, holding her jaw as gently as he’d hold a baby bird. His arms wrapped around her small frame, holding her close, comforting her with his arms loose around her waist to not overwhelm her. She felt a powerful surge of love and affection for the man and blurted out what had been stressing her out.

“I’m pregnant.” He gasped and pulled away to look her in the eyes and then down at the tiny little bump on her stomach that he missed when stripping her. “I’m sorry, I’ve known for a month and I’m just scared-”

“It’s okay, baby,” he reassured her, shushing her.

“No, I… I’ve been a horrible wife,” she sobbed, wiggling out of his arms. He easily let her go to have her space, keeping his own tears at bay while watching her with despair.

“No, you haven’t,” he argued softly.

“Yeah and a bad mother. Everything’s my fault.” He shook his head, kissing her cheek softly, his lips moving over the expanse of her face, reaching her lips for his final destination.

“I’m thrilled that you’re pregnant, okay? I truly am.” He reassured her. “And I know how stressful it can be for you to be pregnant and I know how much you worry about me and the kids, but we can handle it, sweetheart.” She continued to cry quietly, his thumbs gently wiping away her tears. “They love you so much, I love you so much, and you’re the most amazing mother they could have asked for, just like you’re the most amazing wife in the entire universe, hell maybe the best out of every universe.”

“Whatever happened tonight sweetheart… I’m so sorry. I…” he sighed, pressing his forehead against hers, his eyes shut as he breathed shakily.

“It’s not your fault,” she whispered, taking his breaded jaw in her hand to kiss him chastely. “I think I was just overreacting… my hormones, you know how they get… wonky,” she tried smiling, pulling away to watch him shake his head.

“If two people watched what happened and took time out of their night to help you, you weren’t overreacting,” he told her firmly. “I know you usually deal with things by dissociating or detaching from it and downplaying your feelings, but I’m not letting you do that. Just like you don’t let me do it.” She blinked at him, feeling a new wave of emotions followed by gratitude and love. “We don’t need to talk about it right now and there’s no deadline, but just talk to someone—or me when you’re ready, instead of pushing it down or invalidating yourself from how hurt you are about it.” He smiled at her gently, lovingly kissing her forehead and stepped into the shower, while holding her hand so she’d join him as she regained most of her wits.

“I love you, Dean,” she whispered, feeling like those words simply weren’t enough to describe the amount of affection that bloomed in her chest like a trillion galaxies being born.

“I know,” he smiled playfully, holding her close when she followed him inside the foggy stall. She smiled softly at him and shook her head, standing beneath the shower head with him, the hot water comforting as it hit her skin and relaxed her muscles.

He took care of her the whole time, wiping away the eyeliner that was now messy, but otherwise her face was bare, the red liquid tint on her lips having faded away at this point, leaving her lips a cotton candy colour. He smiled lovingly at her, leaning down to kiss her passionately before he washed her hair and then her body while keeping himself mostly dry.

“There,” he chuckled, bumping the bottom of her chin gently with his finger curled. “Good girl,” he murmured, turning the shower off, reaching out for one of the towels to wrap around her, letting her dry herself off so he could do the same to himself.

“Thanks,” she smiled at him tiredly, drying her hair with the towel and stepping back into the bedroom, standing in front of him when he slipped on his pyjama pants again, and handed her his shirt to sleep in. The white shirt with The Avongers and bootleg Avengers characters over the chest made her smile and she watched him get the bed ready.

His muscles flexed when he tugged the soft sheets from how tightly they fit the bed, his tiny waist and his broad shoulders when he turned his back to her distracted her from putting the shirt on. Instead, she checked him out, his firm ass in the soft pyjama pants, the muscles in his back moving beneath his skin, the dip of his spine down his back one of the most beautiful things she’d seen. When he turned to his side, his stomach--just a little soft--became taut with his efforts, lost in his mind as he freed the gold and white satin sheets.

His huge arms continued to tighten as he travelled to the other side of the bed, the v-line going down his hips caused her teeth to bite down at her lip. Even his pecs right now were doing wonders, his thick fingers wrapping around the sheets and tugging expertly that she didn’t even care that she was staring at him shamelessly, the ring on his finger was probably the hottest thing right now.

That was her husband.

The man who grew out his beard, something she thought she’d hate until the coarse hairs actually ended up feeling arousing between her legs and against her breasts. The man who kept his hair a little longer just for her, soft between her fingers and so pullable. The way the soft strands of his honey-coloured hair fell over his magnificent face looked like streams of sunlight in the spring, his mossy green eyes likes a forest of utter beauty that no one could compare to, and his freckles were a thousand constellations that glowed like gold dust along the canvas of his face.

His pretty plump lips were a shade darker now from having bitten them due to his focus on releasing the sheets from the tight embrace around the mattress, and wet from his soft tongue. He’d innocently looked up at her, expecting her to have been ready for bed, but instead he found her aroused, her cheeks pink and her nipples tight, her breathing heavy and short.

He caught her eyes as they teased his body, a shaky breath making its way past her parted lips, the most breathtaking crinkles appeared around his eyes when he chuckled, gracing her with a shy smile. “What?” He asked softly, pink flushing his cheeks up to the tips of his ears.

“You know it always turns me on to see you do anything, especially shirtless,” she murmured casually, feeling no confidence to actually tease him the way she usually did and feeling disgusted with herself from the events that unfolded in the past month to even feel any pleasure from him. So she looked away and was about to put his shirt on when he stopped her.

“Don’t.” He made his way to her, grabbing the shirt and throwing it across the room and onto the couch a few feet away from them.

“I haven’t shaved,” she gasped, kissing him back when he pressed his lips against hers, soft and warm. He quickly parted his lips to deepen the kiss. His tongue teasingly moved into her mouth when she’d opened up to him instantly despite her weak argument, knowing that Dean wasn’t the type of man who actually required a woman to look a specific way.

He wrapped his arm around her waist to hold her close, a little moan from him muffled by her mouth against his. She gave into him without hesitation, her arms circling around his neck, her fingers tugging gently at the short hairs behind his head, soft the way they always were. An appreciative hum rumbled in his chest, her entire body stretched up to reach her tall husband.

He turned them both around so her back faced the bed instead of his, pulling away from the kiss for his lips to travel down her neck. His hot breath and wet tongue licked at her clean skin and sucked gently at her pulse. He made his way down her neck and bit her shoulder possessively. She buried her fingers into his downy hair, closing her eyes, her chest rising and falling quickly from lustful breaths she took.

He loosened his arms from around her waist and held the beautiful curve of it in his large hands, his fingers brushing gently against her ribcage. He moved his mouth down to her breasts, and she instinctively arched her back so he didn’t have to bend over her so much. It turned him on, in his mind, that one move was her offering herself to him completely.

He moved his hands up to cup her breasts in his hands, the warmth and roundness of them in his large palms nearly made him believe she was small chested. His fingers gently brushed around her nipples, his warm breath puffing over them so she could feel them tighten before he even did anything. His lips wrapped around one, his teeth gently scraping along her sensitive flesh while his tongue mimicked his fingers, feeling the texture of her silky flesh against his wet tongue.

He sucked on it gently, his hands squeezed both her breasts, but he quickly pinched and tweaked the other one, reaching down to squeeze her fleshy ass. She moaned softly, her thigh gently passing between his legs and rubbing his stiff cock. A moan rippled out of him and he blindly chased her hand when he switched the stimulation of her breasts, putting his mouth on the other and letting the room temperature do its work on her glistening nipple.

He guided her hand into his pants, biting down roughly on her flesh when she brushed her fingers down the length of him. She whined at the bite, rubbing her thighs together awkwardly to feel some relief, his heavy cock resting in her small hand. She wanted to be doing this to him, touching him teasingly for all the neglect he endured on her side.

She tugged at his hair once, moving both of her hands to his hips and lowered his pyjamas so they slipped down his legs easily. Before she could do anything more, he stepped out of them and dropped to his knees, his lips kissing down between her breasts, over her growing belly and finally to her pelvis.

She cupped his jaw and moved his gaze away from between her legs, an embarrassed look on her face because she usually kept herself either completely shaved or trimmed. He grabbed her hand and kissed her wrist to ease her unsteadiness. He then moved her hands away from his jaw and onto his head so he could taste her, so she could pull at his hair.

He gently pushed her thighs apart with the backs of his hands, only slightly. He moved forward experimentally, the curly hairs tickling his nose and she felt embarrassed the whole time, her grip on his hair tightening and she looked away when heat grew up her neck to the tips of her ears. The last time she was that bushy, she was in university and completely uninterested in romance, but ever since Dean—despite him never asking for it—she would shave. And despite him never showing or voicing a preference, she never stopped doing it.

Dean liked it. Right now, like this.

His fingers parted her warm folds and he found her clit easily. A hissed curse slipped past her lips when his tongue flicked against it, teasingly lapping up and down. She moved back until her knees hit the bed and his eyes were glued on her every move. He disappointedly licked his lips but excitement reignited the flame in his green eyes when she laid down and spread her legs for him.

Usually her stomach would cave in when she laid down on her back, but this time, the tiny bump remained and his heart softened, crawling forward to kiss her knees. He lifted her feet up on the bed, staring between her legs and parting her folds with his fingers, licking away at her clit and her entrance.

He watched her writhe under his mouth the way she always did when he teased her. He knew it wasn’t strange to find it arousing. This was his woman, his love, his wife.

He squeezed her thighs with his warm hands, moaning softly against her centre which made her laugh softly. He pulled away from her, smiling at the sound, “move up, angel,” he ordered gently as he stood up. She obeyed quietly, stopping only when he firmly wrapped his fingers around her ankle, his thumb brushing against the protruding bone.

He moved forward, picking up the pillows above her head with the intention of elevating her hips. She instantly knew what he had planned and lifted her hips so he could slide them under her hips, stacked and cushiony. “Ready?” He asked softly, making his way between her legs.

She nodded, gasping when he swiped three fingers from her entrance to her folds, only to bring them to his cock. She blinked at him, turned on when he bit his lip, jerking himself slowly with her arousal, her breath stuttering the moment he moaned. Her toes curled at the sound, her pussy clenching around nothing the way it always did when she so much as looked his way. It didn’t even have to be a sexual situation, which she found embarrassing, and she had never admitted it to him.

He guided his cock to her entrance, smiling down at her way too adorably while the soft head of his cock circled her soaked centre. He gently pushed himself into her and back out, her walls took him in slowly, wetting his dick more and more. He looked between her legs completely unabashed, his lip trapped between his teeth as he watched himself disappear inside her as if he hadn’t seen her take him a thousand other times before.

Still, he was fascinated with how he stretched her open, her tiny cunt opening up to fit all of him the way it always did. She was tight and warm, completely soaking him with every push and pull of his cock, letting her feel every inch of him entering her, but also letting him revel in the velvet walls squeezing around him and creating quick pleasure to his cock.

“Fuck,” he whispered, bottoming out inside her. He bit his lip, his eyes trailing up her body and back down to where he was connected to her, gently pushing his hips into her, his thumb easily finding her clit within the dark curls.

“What?” She asked softly, studying his face, laughter in her eyes when his eyes snapped up to hers innocently.

“You’ve never felt more mine than right now, baby,” he murmured, slowly pulling out of her and then back inside before she could respond to him. As much as he wanted to take his time with her, he knew she would be exhausted tomorrow from her emotions tonight, so he went straight for getting her off. His thumb rubbing gently at her sensitive clit, changing the shapes he made every once in a while until she orgasmed.

The feeling of her walls squeezing his cock drew a deep groan from within his chest. His cock was coated in her cum when he pulled out of her, and his own release followed suit when he pushed back into her warmth. He cursed long and softly, brows drawn together in pleasure as she clung to him, both of them riding the seemingly endless pleasure like gravitational waves after the collision of neutron stars.

Her nails dug marks into his soft skin and she gently released him, watching the exquisite look on his face. The rapture that made her insides tighten deliciously. His lips were parted still, completely breathless. His cheeks were pink and his whole body was hot, covered in a nearly unnoticeable amount of sweat.

He was so beautiful.

“You actually like it?” She asked, flustered when he pulled out of her, their cum oozing out of her, only for him to gently shove a finger into her to keep his cum inside. She clenched around him, familiar with him doing that after he came inside her, which was definitely a reason why she was pregnant so soon.

“What?” He shrugged casually, pulling the pillows from beneath her hips and throwing them carelessly against the headboard. “Yes, okay? Maybe you should let it grow sometimes. It’s hot.” He grinned, leaning over her to kiss her forehead before he stood up to clean her, but also to get the shirt he’d intended for her to wear and to put his pyjama pants on again.

“I think you’re the only one who thinks that,” she called out. It was silent for a few moments as the water from the sink ran in the bathroom loudly and Dean came back with a hand towel and moved between her legs again.

“No, Charlie liked it too,” he revealed, a little smirk on his face when she chuckled. He started to clean her up, gazing down at her in his shirt now, looking completely adorable and comfortable. “And I’m pretty sure more people like it,” he reassured her, playful patting the top of her head. She narrowed her eyes at him despite thinking it felt cute and smiled. She watched him get up to clean himself and discard the towel before returning to her side.

He fixed the pillows on the bed and turned the lamps off so they could lie down and fall asleep comfortably.

He snuck his hand under her shirt, tickling her a little when he rested his hand over her tummy, something he’d always do when she was pregnant. “Wanna pick names?” He asked quietly, scooting so close to her while on his side, he almost reminded her of Bruce, who usually curled up at her side trying to get impossibly close to her.

“Sure,” she smiled softly in the darkness.

“How about Castiel?” He suggested a name immediately and she cringed, chuckling.

“No, Garth already named his kid Castiel,” she told him, which caused him to laugh softly.

“How about… Cassidy?”

“You want a name that starts with C?” She asked, then took his silence and the little nod by her shoulder as a sign for her to give him some examples of what she had in mind. “Like… Casanova? No, Calvin? No, wait, Cara? Caroline? Or Cassian? Casper? Nah, I’m just kidding about that one. Clark? Uh, Casimiro?” She offered, shrugging a little at the end with an amused grin, his hand slowly rubbing along the small curve of her stomach.

“Definitely not Casanova,” he chuckled and she shrugged, laughing. “Ah, right,” he clicked his tongue and she stared at him lovingly. “Cassidy sounds dumb… I’m just gonna ignore Casper. And what the fuck is a Casimiro? I like Clark for a boy and… we can come up with more names for a girl…” She smiled and hummed softly. “I hope we get to have Bruce and Clark, heheh,” he commented cutely.

“You’re so adorable,” she mumbled with a smile, kissing the top of his head. She closed her eyes while trying to picture what her next child will look like. Dean blushed, nuzzling her lovingly as sleep reclaimed him, thinking the same thing as her.

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[copperboom82]

Southern Cross

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (female)

Word Count: 4k

Prompts: "Try focusing on your life and less on mine" and "first snow."

Title credit: Southern Cross by Crosby, Stills, and Nash

Summary: Holidays aren't always easy for everyone. As Christmas approaches, neither Dean nor Katrina are having the best time. Can they find solace in each other, or is it just too natural to push each other's buttons?

Set mid-season 6. Precedes my other one shot, Something, but can absolutely be read on its own.

AN: Hello! This is my second submission for @jacklesversebingo and my first story for @chevroletdean's Promt-Mas for the Supernatural Writers Community (First Snow prompt). Also - please forgive me, I wrote this in one go, while sick. I did proofread, but will definitely do another round when my head's a little clearer.

Warnings: Mild language and themes of loss and grief. Please let me know if I missed something - I don't think I did, but I'm also very new to posting my writing.

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“Hey, I was using that!” Dean exclaimed as the TV remote was yanked out of his hand. It was the middle of the day on a cold, dreary Wednesday, and while he was sure there was plenty he could be doing, with Sam still out cold in Bobby’s ghost-proof panic room, taking up residence on Bobby’s couch and flipping through crappy day-time TV seemed to be his best option.

God forbid he do it in peace though. Katrina looked over her shoulder at his outburst, that irritating grin of hers in place, and stuck her tongue out at him before flopping down onto the other side of the couch.

“Get better taste in TV and maybe I’ll share,” she quipped, settling in and starting to do her own flipping. Dean grumbled but settled deeper back into the couch himself. It wasn’t worth the fight. Even if he won, she wouldn’t stop complaining, and Dean wasn’t all that invested anyway. Everything was just white noise these days anyway.

“You’re one to talk about taste,” he retorted, eyeing her outfit… though the term seemed generous. She was dressed down today, or rather, she hadn’t gotten dressed yet, still clad in black and red plaid pajama bottoms and an orange t-shirt that had an illustration stretched across the chest, with Crosby, stills, Nash & Young printed under it and clashed horribly. “I don’t know what’s worse, your fashion sense or the band.” 

Katrina rolled her eyes and threw a pillow at his head. “Fuck off. I don’t say anything when you dress like a wanna-be biker, do I?”

Dean narrowed his eyes, but Katrina ignored him, her own gaze intent on Bobby’s crappy TV.

It had been a few months since Katrina Black had come into Dean’s life. She’d been an unwelcome but seemingly non-negotiable addition to his found family when Sam had shown up at his door back in the Fall and he’d had to bring Lisa and Ben to Sioux Falls in search of a safe landing spot while they took care of the djinn. It had taken some time, but what had started as a begrudging tolerance had given way to a genuine friendship, one that Dean had trouble imagining at times how he’d done without. But she still had a way of grating on his nerves at times. Today was one of those days.

He’d been there for just about a week, not counting the day he’d spent trying and failing to fill Death’s shoes. Kat had only shown up the day before, but from what Dean understood, she was planning on staying until after Christmas. He’d been more than a little surprised, considering from what he understood she had a full-time job and was missed when she disappeared for too long. The surprise had immediately been replaced by annoyance when she’d told him someone needed to check in on Bobby after Sam’s failed attempt at patricide. As if Dean weren’t perfectly fucking capable. 

Bobby was more than fine. The old bastard was tough as nails. Even robo-Sam didn’t have a shot of taking him down. He didn’t need Kat checking up on him. Neither did Dean, for that matter. Or Sam. The three of them were fine, and if Kat was just going to lounge around all day and steal his remote, he wasn’t sure what help she thought she was being.

“What are you doing here anyway?” he asked after a few minutes of silence. To that point, she still hadn’t settled on a channel, but the wrist she had extended towards the TV faltered at his question, and he noticed the shadow of a frown cross her face.

“I told you; I came to check in on Bobby.” 

She clicked the channel button a few more times, slower than before, and then dropped her arm back to her side and curled deeper into her chosen spot.

“Yeah, okay,” Dean allowed, even though he still thought it was stupid. “He’s fine though, and last I checked, you were planning on staying till after Christmas, which is still over a week away.” 

Katrina shrugged, eyes still fixed on the TV. Dean followed her line of sight and noticed she’d landed on I Love Lucy. He had to work not to snort at the predictability. In the months they’d known one another, he wasn’t sure he’d seen her pick anything aside from I Love Lucy, Bewitched, Gilligan’s Island, or The Munsters. Creature of habit, she called it. Boring was the word Dean used, but it was mostly to get a rise out of her. Given the way she kept him on his toes most of the time, he found it oddly endearing that she had some quirks that were so insanely consistent. 

“So what? I have some time off. You got a problem with it?” 

“No.”

It was a mostly honest answer. He didn’t have a problem with it… he just wanted to be left well enough alone. There was enough shit on his mind… the nonstop anxiety over whether Sam was going to wake up and whether he’d be Sam when he did… the near constant ache for Lisa and Ben that only seemed to grow as the holidays approached… his growing concern over whatever goddamn war Cas was fighting but keeping them out of… the bitter anger he was still feeling towards dear old gramps. 

The last thing he needed was Katrina and the complicated feelings her presence stirred in him.

“You seem like you’ve got a problem with it,” she prodded, and Dean held back a groan. Why did she always have to poke and prod? “You’ve been in a mood since I got here.” 

“I have not been in a mood,” Dean deflected, giving an exaggerated roll of his eyes. Katrina snorted and shook her head, clearly not convinced, and Dean’s eyes narrowed further. “Just doesn’t make sense is all. Christmas with a grumpy old hunter, a coma patient, and a – what did you call me the other day? A stubborn ass? Doesn’t exactly scream holiday cheer to me.” 

A wry smile formed on Kat’s face, but it didn’t reach her eyes, and Dean thought he noticed her shoulders tense.

“What do you mean? Sounds just like home to me,” she jabbed back.

“Aw, c’mon, Kat,” Dean pushed, finding himself curious now. “Don’t you have a younger sister? Wouldn’t you rather spend it with her than with us hacks?” 

Dean definitely didn’t imagine the reaction that time. Katrina’s jaw definitely clenched.

“Jenna’s on a cruise with her boyfriend and his family,” she informed him flatly. Dean frowned, his mind working overtime to recall what he knew of her situation. From what he understood, she and Jenna were close. Freakishly close… though he understood the irony in having anything to say about something like that himself. 

“What, and bailed on you for Christmas?” he asked in disbelief before he could stop himself. Katrina rolled her eyes.

“She didn’t bail on me; we talked about it. She’ll be back in time for me to see her before she goes back to school. It’s no big deal.” 

Dean doubted that very much, but he wasn’t stupid enough to voice as much. He was, apparently, stupid enough to keep digging, however. 

“Alright, fine, your sister’s not around. Still, though, you gotta have something you’d rather be doing.”

“Shut up, I’m trying to watch,” she dismissed, but Dean snorted. He was fairly certain that she could quote these episodes by now.

“Bullshit. C’mon, Kat. What’s the rest of your family up to? You should spend the time off with them, not watching crap TV on Bobby’s couch and helping man the phones.” 

He realized seconds too late that he’d pushed too far, and when Katrina’s head whipped around, he nearly gulped when he saw the fire in her eyes.

“The hell is your problem?” she hissed. Dean felt his mouth drop open, feeling stupid when the words he needed suddenly evaded him.

“Kat, I’m – “

“Save it, Winchester. Why don’t you try focusing on your life and less on mine?” 

And without another word, she pitched the remote back in his direction and took off towards the stairs, leaving a bewildered Dean in her wake. 

The next few days were tension filled to say the least. While their spats typically blew over of their own accord, there was something different about this one that Dean didn’t know how to put his finger on. It was a small house, but Katrina still managed to find a way to mostly avoid him. He tried to apologize, but any time he got close, she made up an excuse to be anywhere else, or quickly struck up a conversation with Bobby. 

When they were occupying the same space, the snark that had permeated every conversation they’d had in their early days returned tenfold. Dean couldn’t seem to say so much as a word without Kat having some sarcastic comment or biting remark to throw back in his direction, even when he was talking to Bobby. It was bad enough that Friday night Bobby cornered him about it, and given Bobby’s preference to stay as far out of their disagreements as possible, that was saying a lot.

“What’d you do to Trina?” the old man asked, dropping into a seat at the kitchen table and sliding a beer across the table. Dean looked up from the article he’d mindlessly been scrolling through on Sam’s laptop, surprised at the question – though not too surprised to scoop up the offered bottle, even as he pushed the laptop aside.

“Oh, c’mon, Bobby. I didn’t do anything. You know how Kat gets. She’s been in a mood since she got here.” 

Bobby, however, looked back skeptically, raising his eyebrows as he took a pull from his own beer.

“Is that so?” 

Dean nodded, knocking back his own beer. It was late. There still hadn’t been any change in Sam, a thought that was gnawing at Dean like nothing else. The house had been quiet since dinner – pizza Bobby had ordered before Katrin had slipped upstairs, citing she needed an ‘early night.’

“Yeah. She came in the other day while I was watching TV, stole my remote, and told me I had no taste. Typical Katrina.” 

A voice in the back of his head nagged at him that he knew there was more to it than that, but Dean didn’t want to get into it with Bobby. He didn’t understand what had gone so wrong himself, and he wasn’t in the mood to rehash it. Bobby, however, seemed to be able to sense the damn voice. 

“Oh yeah, that sounds like her alright,” Bobby agreed, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “And I’m sure you didn’t clap back at all Mr. Calm and Collected.” 

Dean sighed and ran a hand down his face. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Bobby. I gave her shit for wearing a Crosby Stills shirt, and I tried to ask her why she was hanging here for the holidays. If that got her all bent outta shape, I gotta say… I thought she was made outta tougher stuff.” 

Dean had hoped that would be the end of the conversation, but he’d anticipated maybe a bit more ribbing… maybe another round of prodding on the subject. What he didn’t expect was the look of utter exasperation tinged with disappointment that flashed across Bobby’s face, and Dean found his brow furrowing automatically in confusion.

“What?” he asked. Bobby was quiet for a moment, before he ultimately exhaled, shaking his head slowly. The disappointment seemed to win out over the exasperation.

“You know, Dean,” said, his voice surprisingly quiet, “did you ever stop to think that you ain’t the only one that’s got baggage?” 

And just like with Katrina, Bobby was gone before Dean could get any real answers. He kicked at the chair next to him in a bout of frustration before he could think better of it. Why did everything have to be so damn complicated? 

The next day, there was still no change in Sam, and Dean found himself sitting once more at the kitchen table, mindlessly flipping through one of Bobby’s books, looking for anything they might have missed about souls, when a hat and a pair of gloves landed in front of his face. He looked up in confusion that quickly morphed to surprise when he saw Katrina standing in front of him. She was bundled up in one of her heavier coats, a scarf draped around her neck, hair pulled into a messy side braid, and her hands shoved into her pockets.

“Let’s go,” she said simply. “I’m getting a Christmas tree to brighten this place up, and you’re helping me. Move your ass.” 

For a moment, Dean stared back at her blankly, too caught off guard for the words to register. But as they did, the skepticism took hold.

“The hell I am,” he tossed back. “What do we need a Christmas tree for?”

“If I’m spending my Christmas here, we’re getting a tree, and I need your help.” And despite the inexplicable guilt that Dean had been feeling for the last few days, he felt a flare of anger.

“Yeah, well no one asked you to spend Christmas here, did they?” 

Katrina was already walking towards the door but called back to him over her shoulder. 

“Wrong again, darlin. Bobby asked me months ago, which makes you the interloper. C’mon, we’ll take my car. Wouldn’t want to scratch your precious baby.” 

Christmas tree shopping was not Dean’s idea of a good day. But something about the tension of the last few days and how it had been eating at him pressed in, and Dean found himself pushing to his own feet and following after her, shrugging on his coat as he went. 

“Whatever, Black. Just don’t expect me to decorate the damn thing.” 

Christmas tree shopping with Katrina was an experience, to say the least, but Dean had to admit it felt better than sitting around the house had. For a few merciful hours, he was distracted from the constant pull he’d been feeling towards Bobby’s basement. Even the memories of doing the same thing with Lisa and Ben the previous year – the only other time Dean could remember going tree shopping – skewed to the sweet side of the bittersweet scale, a gift in and of itself these days. 

She was still a little prickly, taking any opportunity she could find to take a stab at him, but Dean gave it back as good as he got, and the tension melted back into the playful banter he had become accustomed to. It was about halfway through the second field that Dean made the mistake of complaining that he was cold, immediately regretting the slip when Katrina’s face lit up in her I-told-you-so expression.

“I thought Winchesters didn’t get cold,” she teased, elbowing him gently. Her hands were still tucked into her pockets, despite the fact that she’d donned gloves for the occasion. Dean rolled his eyes good naturedly. 

“I did not say that,” he disagreed, and Katrina chuckled.

“No, you were just adamant that you didn’t need the hat and gloves I found for you. Because, and I quote, it’s only thirty degrees out.”

“Yeah, well I didn’t expect to be at this for hours,” Dean pointed out. Katrina laughed, and Dean tried not to let himself get too drawn into her dazzling smile, or dwell on how pretty she looked with her cheeks all flushed from the cold. That was a path neither of them were equipped to go down, and even with all her rough edges, Dean wasn’t willing to risk the friendship they’d formed.

“Joke’s on you. Maybe next time you’ll listen to me.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Dean grumbled half-heartedly. “C’mon, what do you think about this one? It looks like it would fit downstairs well enough.” 

Katrina came to stand next to him, frowning as she studied the tree. 

“I dunno, what about there? That’s a huge gap,” she complained. Dean followed where she was pointing but squinted, not seeing whatever she was talking about.

“What are you, high?” he asked, bending down. “This is the best looking tree we’ve seen so far.” 

Suddenly, however, it felt like ice had been poured over the back of his neck, and he yelped, in a way that he never did, too caught off guard at the sensation to do anything else. As he stumbled forward and upright, Katrina’s laughter filled his ears, and when he turned around, he found her grinning at him, mischievous glint in her eye and suddenly bare hands visible in front of her. Dean felt his mouth fall open in shock, and Katrina’s laughter only grew louder.

“Oh, you’re gonna pay for that,” he told her, and she wasted no time arching an eyebrow at him in challenge.

“Oh yeah? Good luck.” And the next thing he knew, she was off to a running start, her laughter floating back to him over the air. Dean tore after her without a thought, glad they seemed to be the only ones this far out.

Katrina was fast, but he was taller, with a longer stride, and he caught up easily enough. Of course, Kat also had feline-like reflexes, and before he knew it, they both ended up on the ground, both winded, but laughing.

“You’re a fucking menace,” he complained. She snorted.

“Like you’re one to talk.” 

Dean ran a hand down his face and tried to catch his breath.

“Yeah, yeah. C’mon, I think I’ve had enough fun for one day. What did you actually think of that tree?” 

They were halfway back to the front of the farm, Dean hauling the tree with them, when the snow started to fall. He’d never had any particular attachment to the snow himself, it was just colder rain, but he couldn’t help smiling at the way Kat’s face lit up.

“Seriously?” he asked. “You getting’ all excited about snow?”

Of course, in typical Katrina fashion, she didn’t pay him any mind and only grinned wider.

“It’s the first snow of the year, don’t be a curmudgeon.” 

“I’m not a curmudgeon, I’m just an adult. Snow’s a pain in the ass.” 

“Yeah, well. Being an adult’s boring. Live a little. You might enjoy it.” 

The snow was still falling, already sticking to the ground and coating the earth in a thin layer of white powder when they reached their destination. The world seemed to grow quieter, muffled against heavy flakes, and with it, Dean noticed Katrina did too. They were almost done, when the kid running the machine to put the net around the trees ran into a problem and had to go inside to get help. That was when Dean noticed Katrina had drifted to the side, leaning against a fence, a faraway look in her eyes and she stared out blankly towards the road. Frowning, Dean approached, hands in his pockets, his expression morphing into one of concern.

“You alright?” he asked. 

Katrina jumped, turning quickly and flashing him a smile when she realized he was next to her, but Dean noticed it didn’t reach her eyes. Her dark hair was dotted with fresh flakes of snow, growing wet as it melted into her braid. She nodded, but Dean knew better.

“Yeah, I’m good, sorry.”

Dean’s frown deepened, and he shook his head.

“You don’t have to be sorry. What’s up, Kat?” 

She bit her bottom lip, seeming to wrestle with herself for a moment, her eyes darting back to the road, away from him. Finally, she took a deep breath, exhaling slowly, the expelled breath rustling a few loose strands of hair.

“Nothing, really. I, uh… thanks for coming with me today. I’m sorry, about the other day. About the last few days. I was a real bitch.” 

Dean had been so caught up in their afternoon that he’d almost forgotten about how they’d ended up there, but at the reminder, he suddenly felt that weird guilt again, and scratched at the back of his neck, feeling the heat creeping up it.

“Oh. No, Kat. You don’t have to – I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have –“ 

But Kat finally turned to look at him again, and he fell silent at the look on her face, the subtle shake of her head more powerful than anything he could have said.

“You didn’t do anything wrong. I overreacted. My uh… my mom… this is the first Christmas since she died. It wasn’t too long after the new year that she passed. It’s been… harder… than I expected. I had sort of hoped that Jenna and I would still do something, but Jenna said it was too hard. She just wanted to get away this year, not celebrate. And, um… well, you know what it’s like looking out for your younger sibling. The second she told me that’s what she needed, I knew that was the way this year was gonna go, but… it’s still been a little rough. It’s just been the three of us since my dad walked out. That’s why Bobby invited me to come stay for a bit. We happened to be on a hunt together when Jenna and I had that conversation, and he didn’t want me to be by myself. But, uh, that… that doesn’t give me the excuse to treat you like crap. You didn’t know, and I should have just told you. I’m sorry. It was stupid.”

Dean felt like he’d been punched in the gut, especially when he noticed water pooling at the edges of Katrina’s eyes. He may not have known her long, but he knew she wasn’t a crier. He’d known her mom had died, but he hadn’t realized when. 

Without a second thought, Dean reached up and brushed a thumb over her cheekbone, cradling her face and keeping her from giving into that instinct he knew she had to look away. Neither of them were good with emotional vulnerability, but somehow that made it easier for him with her, and he was determined to try and give her that same outlet.

“That’s not stupid, and you don’t need to apologize. I’m so sorry, Kat. I wish I could say something that would make it better, but I’ve been there, and I know how much it sucks.” 

Katrina sniffed but nodded, still biting her lip.

“I know you do,” she whispered. “And thanks, I appreciate that.”

Dean smiled softly at her, and before he could second guess the gesture, he kissed the top of her head. When she leaned into it and wrapped an arm around his middle in a hug, Dean felt his breath catch in his throat, but he wasted no time in returning the embrace and holding her against him.

“No need to thank me, sweetheart. That’s what friends are for.” 

He wasn’t sure how long they stood like that, letting the snow fall over them while the world continued to quiet around them, but he savored every second of it, and for just a little bit the rest of his worries fell away. All that was left was him, and Kat, the stupid tree farm, and the damn snow… and he almost wished it could stay that way.

Of course, it couldn’t, and all too soon the kid was back, with his manager trailing behind him, bringing reality with them. Katrina disentangled herself from him, a different kind of flush gracing her cheeks now. Dean spared her a small smile and squeezed her hand – gloved once again, of course – before backtracking to collect their tree.

Their lives may have been a mess, and Dean wasn’t particularly happy about what the past year had brought him… but if there was one thing he was grateful for it was probably Katrina Black worming her way into his reluctant heart, and he couldn’t help but wonder what the next year might bring. 

[monstermoviedean]

the thing is. does cas ever actually really apologize? i remember him saying “i failed you dean/jack/ma—” and “i dropped by the ball” and like yes he is visibly guilty which implies he’s sorry, but i genuinely can’t recall him ever actually verbalizing “i’m sorry” regarding his actions or mary’s death itself??

and look i’m not saying that would’ve made everything better. ofc not. but i’m the type of person who genuinely really appreciates verbal apologies, giving and receiving them. and i guess it just bugs me a little, personally, that cas says he “already apologized” to dean about mary when he sorta kinda didn’t? and then it turns into a fault of dean’s? idk idk i guess i’m just rambling and ranting in your asks lol

i was wondering this myself so thank you for giving me the perfect opportunity to go back and look!

tl;dr he says "i'm sorry" about not telling dean and sam about jack killing felix, and he says "sorry about rowena" once she's dead. that's it. all attempts at apologies under the cut (and some response to the rest of what you said)

disclaimer that it's possible i missed something, but i scanned the transcripts for 14x18 through 15x03 and here's everything i can find cas saying that is apology-related.

apologies in 14x18:

so this is definitely an apology for not telling them about felix. it's an explanation of why he wanted to believe jack was good and why he didn't tell them. it's somewhat accepting responsibility for mary's death BUT. he is trying to say he failed her. not that he did anything wrong, but that because he failed while trying to do the right thing, that's why she's dead. i get what he's going for but i think that a statement like "i failed" is often expected to be followed with "no you didn't, it's okay." it's not the same as "i'm sorry" to me, though i do think cas was genuinely trying here.

nothing in 14x19, 14x20, 15x01 (mostly cas defending jack and suggesting he did nothing wrong or didn't know he was doing something wrong)

15x02:

he again names that not telling dean about jack was an issue, but then it's "what happened with your mother." it's oddly divorced from the context. it's kind of passive. like it was some tragic accident that couldn't have been prevented. i think cas might think it was an accident, and i think that's okay - but i would imagine dean would react poorly to hearing it framed as an accident when someone killed his mom.

aaaaand 15x03:

that's it. that's the apologies.

there's definitely feelings of guilt, and attempts to take responsibility, but in doing so cas is extending the existing patterns. he's not apologizing. he is saying "ah, it's my fault and i feel bad so i will fix it by doing good things" and then not communicating about that or trying to learn from his mistakes. for me, the "i'm sorry" matters, but the intent matters more.

totally respect your position on verbal apologies - that's entirely valid and i get it! just speaking for myself here. if cas didn't say "i'm sorry" but was clearly trying to change his behavior in a way to repair their relationship and make up for what he'd done, i would be okay with that. if he said "i'm sorry" but didn't really seem to mean it, it wouldn't sit well with me. but here he seems to genuinely believe he has apologized, he has done enough to earn forgiveness. and that's a little baffling to me. i'm not expecting cas to give a therapy-speak perfect apology but i'm expecting a little more than this.

thank you for rambling and ranting in my asks i always appreciate it <3

update: i think cas felt remorse for what happened to mary. not questioning that. but i also think he was apologizing more because he wanted to move along with the process. he wanted to apologize as soon as possible because the logical steps go: 1) cas apologizes 2) dean accepts and/or forgives and/or makes cas feel better about it 3) back to normal. and i can understand cas wanting to get back to normal and this being an expression of grief. but i also don't think dean is wrong for not wanting or being okay with that.

[kiteblue42]

Is Eric Kripke America’s Tolkien?

So I started Supernatural for the first time around 6 months ago for which I blame Tumblr entirely (where do I claim compensation?). In fact it’s very good and fun and I can’t believe I missed it when it was live.

Ok so bear with me I’ve been sick for a few days a combination of high temperature plus rings of power trailer drop may be making me delusional, but I got to thinking … why did this show have such a hold not just on this site, but also on so many fan artists and fan fic writers. (I mean it has a strangle hold on Ao3)?

Then the RoP trailer dropped and I got to thinking is it because it world builds from a US stand point like Tolkien world built from a European standpoint?

Then because I am sick and can’t sleep I am sharing my stream of consciousness o: Kripke as Tolkien, Sam as Sam, John Winchester as Gandalf, Castiel as Beleg and Dean as Turin Turambar - and maybe now I’ve got this out of my head I’ll feel better….:

I attempted to put this under a cut so hope it worked!

:readmore:

Source material

Most modern fantasy stands on the shoulders of JRR Tolkien who basically ingested a ton of European myths and languages (with focus on Northern Europe) and spat out the middle earth legendarium.

Eric Kripke (plus writing team) seems to have ingested a ton of US urban myths and US pop culture and spat out “Supernatural-verse”. Because it is *US myth making* it is distinct from a lot of other US writing that builds off Tolkien and / or European myth arcs (I’m looking at you Star Wars, Westeros etc).

And the themes and sensibilities therefore pulled out by Kripke are *not* the same as Tolkien’s themes and sensibilities. This makes it different to a lot of modern genre fiction (in whatever form) that either builds on or seeks to subvert the themes in Tolkien’s work.

(There’s also a lot of genre fiction that is satire or allegory for the real world, but that is another category to me and not really world building in the same way - incidentally the Boys fits into that category along with Good Omens).

Both ofc back end off the Bible but this is English literature based story telling and no one escapes the Bible or the bard.

Structure

We usually think of Tolkien in terms of:

(1) Hobbit - entry level nicely structured “there and back again” story for children, darker than expected. Main hero arc -Bilbo.

(2) Lord of the Rings - the pretty perfect fantasy master piece - very accessible clear meaningful themes and tidy /satisfactory ending. A number of hero arcs, but clearest drawn are Frodo / Sam.

(3) Silmarillion (&etc) - this is where the legendarium really gets built. It’s not neat, it’s not accessible, some of it is *not* a good read but the ideas here build the world. We have a creation myth. The “good” “wise” guys turn out to be more complex and flawed than we thought. The evil guys are extremely toxic but entertaining and bring the drama. There are epic doomed romances between immortal beings and mortal beings. Everyone messes up and makes catastrophic world destroying errors on the regular. People get cursed and can’t escape their doom. I can’t think of any real traditional hero arcs (maybe Beren or Luthien??). Note Tolkien didn’t finish this and it’s put together by someone else.

Now let’s do Supernatural

(1) seasons 1-3 - Horror procedural-

Entry level solid procedural hunting / horror story. Sam W is here in the traditional hero role. Dean is like your Thorin initiating the adventure. John Winchester is in the Gandalf role (he knows what’s going on and holds the secrets but is not available to the adventurers at all times). Maybe there something deeper and darker going on? This is your Hobbit equivalent very accessible but not particularly unique.

(2) season 4-5 - myth arc - lots of fans will say this is the perfect part of the story and a masterpiece of genre writing. It’s neat with clear meaningful themes and a tidy satisfactory ending. A number of hero arcs though Sam’s remains the most clearly drawn. Dean is more like your Aragorn or Faramir at the end of 5, Bobby in the mold of a Theoden and a Castiel in sort of Gandalf type position. Baby ofc is Shadowfax. This is your LoTR equivalent

(3) seasons 6 - 15 - the Legendarium- this gets a lot of criticism but it’s where the legendarium really gets built. It’s not neat, it’s not that accessible, some of it is not great to watch, but the ideas here build the world out. We have a creation myth (hello Chuck & Amara). We have hero doomed by the narrative (most notably Dean Winchester, though also Castiel). We have epic love stories between mortals and immortals. Yes I am comparing Dean & Cas to Beren & Luthien (!) though Turin & Beleg would perhaps be more appropriate (there’s a good case for Dean = Turin in this universe). The good guys turn out to be more complex or darker than we thought. The evil guys are extremely toxic but entertaining and bring the drama.

There aren’t really any straightforward hero arcs which is one of the reasons Sam fades out a bit and Dean comes forwards as a character. The stories are messy and tragic.

Landscape

Middle Earth - if you read the books or watch the movies or show it’s clear that Tolkien’s (sub)creation is a love letter to the mountains, lakes and woods of England and Europe. It’s also a cry of anguish for their destruction. Both the beauty and destruction are heightened (Europe doesn’t really look like this and really never did - as for the movies they were shot in anew Zealand and then digitally enhanced…) This is as important as the characters and plot - and stands out in particular in the Hobbit and LoTR where there are long descriptions of landscapes (or long shots of the same in movies / shows).

“Middle Americana” - it’s clear that as much importance was put into the look of the landscapes in Supernatural as to the characters or story. In this verse the look is long open roads, beautiful mountains and big skies that are a declaration of love for America, and the run down small towns seem to present wistful sadness. But again it’s not real it’s heightened. The cinematography in first few seasons is particularly thoughtful (and perhaps Kim Manners is to be thanked for that). The show is shot in Canada and the motels / gas stations in middle of no where needed to be built because they didn’t exist in reality. Again the landscape - the open road, the small towns, the big sky, the motels / dinners / gas stations in the middle of nowhere are as much a character as anything else.

I could go on but I suppose if anyone read this far you get the point (and more importantly it’s now out of my head and I can think about something else!).

Ultimately it will take some time to see if this could be right - in terms of genre fiction Tolkien is everywhere and you can’t escape it (even if you never read or watched any Tolkien!). Time will tell if the Kripke verse has the same impact on creatives and audiences, but I just look at the A03 archive and notice how many people know what happened on Supernatural without ever watching it (!) and think hmmm these are the readers and writers of tomorrow after all.

[dw19791967]

That Feeling Part 3

Pairing: Dean x reader (eventual), OFC Tyler

Y/N POV and Dean POV

Warnings: language, unrequited love, angst, unwanted kissing, depression, anxiety, and feelings.

Trigger Warning: This fic contains discussions of depression and anxiety and feelings that go along with those. If that could be triggering for you I would skip out on this one. It is based on some experiences I have had in real life.

*All mistakes are my own!

I'm back (kinda) here's part 3. I'm thinking possibly two more parts. Let me know what you think!

-Layla

*I do not own this gif

Y/N’s POV:

It has been 5 months since one of the worst nights of my life. I started therapy and have been doing a lot better. It was kinda weird at first talking to someone about my life issues and past traumas, I spent a lot of time just sitting there trying to figure out what to say, especially since I can’t mention anything about hunting. But overall it’s been good. I’ve been taking better care of myself, spending more time with the boys, mostly Sam. Dean has been distant lately but I figured it was because he has spent so much one on one time with me the last few months. Sam has helped me start exercising daily (even though I hate it with every fiber of my being). I’ve lost around 10 pounds which is great considering I still eat a ton of take out. I’m starting to feel like my old self again. I took a break from hunting and started writing, that lasted a hot minute before I was tired of staying home. 

Being back in a routine was good, I feel good.

We are on the road currently Sam caught a case about missing bodies. One of my favorite things. They think I’m weird for enjoying the quiet of cemeteries, but I know it’s because the dead are easier to deal with than the living some days.

“Ok, we got four missing corpses. Gladis Bramford was the first, mid 80’s when she passed. They found her head a few counties over, still missing the rest.” Sam was typing away on his computer.

“Who the hell takes a head only?” Dean had a grossed out look on his face.

I laughed.

“Evidently someone had big plans, poor Gladis.” I poked Dean in the shoulder.

Sam rolled his eyes. “The strangest part was her eyes were replaced with red glass, they haven’t been able to figure out which funeral home she was housed at before entering her final resting place.” 

“So what do we think, grave robbers, ghouls, demons?” I asked Sam.

“Not sure, we will have to see after we check the head out.” 

_________________________________________________

Sam went to check out the head while Dean and I looked over the case files.

“You doing ok sweetheart? I know I haven’t really checked in on you lately.” Dean looked at me.

“For the most part yeah, I feel a lot better than I did. I think taking time to get my head on straight helped a lot, plus therapy.” 

“I’m glad to hear it.” Dean smiled at me.

I missed spending time with Dean. But I hadn’t pushed him, I figured he needed a break from me and I understood that. I can be a lot sometimes and he has his own stuff to deal with. It’s not easy being my friend. Plus after everything I realized I probably will never be comfortable enough with myself to be with someone. I’m in love with him and probably will always be. Knowing he’s here but I can’t have him is a hard pill to swallow but I’m working everyday to move past it. I know he deserves better and I know I’m not it. 

“You haven’t heard anything from that douchebag right?” he continued reading over the files. 

“He actually messaged me a few weeks ago from his facebook account. Asked how I was and hoped I was doing better. I ignored it and he kept sending messages, saying he was sorry and he was a dick, blah, blah, blah. I blocked him.” 

“What an asshat, he must have balls the size of Texas to reach out to you after the stunt he pulled.” 

“I guess so, I was upset by it but I’m moving on.” I smiled at him.

“I’m sorry sweetheart, you didn’t deserve that, any of it.”

“It’s ok Dean, I’ve accepted what has happened and I’m moving on. Choosing between a man and a bear, I’d choose the bear.”

“You don’t mean that, you just haven't found the right man yet.”

I scoffed. “Dean… I’m an overweight, loud mouthed, cursing, strong willed woman, who has extreme trust issues. I doubt I will ever find a man who is ok with that, plus I don’t think I want to put myself out there again, who knows what will happen.”

“Just have me greet them with my glock, I’m sure it will go great after that.”

I laughed.

“In all seriousness I hope you do find someone someday Y/N, you deserve the world whether you believe you do or not.”

My heart sank. The only man I want is right in front of me and he will never want me.

“Thanks De.” I got up to pat him on the shoulder.

“Where are you going?” 

“I just need some air.” 

“Y/N I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“You didn’t, I just have a lot on my mind and need a break.”

He frowned.

“It’s ok Dean, really.” I gave him a small smile.

Once I was outside and had the door closed I broke down, I can’t keep doing this to myself.

_________________________________________________

Dean’s POV:

I didn’t mean to upset her. I was trying to give her hope. 

It has been five months since I saw Y/N break. I’ve never been so scared in my life seeing her crumble under the weight of the world. I had to step back, let her get her head on straight without me. I don’t want to get used to relying on her to make me feel better. She needs to take care of herself, not me. I missed spending time with her but I knew it was for the best. Plus I know Sam is a better influence. I’m no good for her.

My phone was buzzing.

Sam.

“Hey man.”

“Dean hey, is Y/N with you?”

“Nah, she’s taking a break.”

“Oh, ok. I was going to let you guys know the cops think it’s a serial grave robber, evidently this has happened before. From everything I’ve checked out, I don’t see a relation to a monster. Maybe we should just let the cops handle it?”

I sighed. “Yeah that’s fine, we can stick around for a few days to see if anything happens.” 

“You ok dude?” 

“Yeah, I’m fine. I just worry about her.”

“I know you do, but she’s doing better.”

“I know man, I just feel like I’m losing her. I know I stopped hanging with her but I wanted her to be able to heal without me looming over her.”

“Dean, she probably thinks you need a break from her, you know how she thinks.”

“You’re right Sam, I didn’t think about that. God, I messed up.”

“She’ll be back man and you can talk to her, I’ll go grab us some food before I head back.” 

As Dean was finishing his call with Sam, she sneaked back in.

“She’s here now, talk to you soon.”

“Everything ok?” she asked.

Her eyes were red, she had been crying.

Shit, I’m an asshole.

“Uh yeah, Sam said cops think it’s a serial grave robber, it’s happened before. Told him we could stick around for a few days and see if anything happens. He’s grabbing food, and should be back soon.”

She nodded.

“Y/N I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to upset you.” I got up to go towards her.

She backed away.

“It’s ok Dean, I’m just being over sensitive right now.” 

“No you’re not, I shouldn't have brought it up.”

“Dean it’s fine really, let’s just drop it.”

“I don’t want to drop it Y/N, I’ve been awful to you these last few months. I was trying to give you space to heal and it backfired. You think I hate you or can’t stand you. Neither is the case.”

“I understand Dean, I know I can be a lot. It’s ok.”

I raised my voice “But it’s not, I feel like I’m losing you!”

She began to cry. 

“Dean, I was doing fine, great even. Until I realized the biggest part of me was missing you. Sam was great at helping me, sure, but you told me you would stick by my side and you didn’t. I really get it. I’m annoying as hell. Everyone deserves a break. But you know I would do anything for you, hell I have and I know you have done a lot for me. And the fact is, I’m not yours to lose. So stop apologizing, put your big boy pants on, and move on. I’m not going to keep doing this!”

_________________________________________________

Y/N’s POV:

Dean took a step back and sighed.

He can’t keep doing this to me and I can’t keep doing this to myself.

I could tell I upset him.

I rubbed my head and sighed. “Look, I’m sorry I shouldn’t have snapped at you. I just don’t need to keep hearing your apologies alright, I get it Dean. You forget I know you better than you know yourself. I’ll be ok, please don’t beat yourself up.”

I moved to hug him. 

He held me in his arms.

Then spoke, “You know I can’t do that sweetheart, beating myself up is my number one hobby.” He laughed.

“Well you need to stop, especially when it comes to me.” I moved back.

“I just need to know it’s going to be ok Y/N, I know I messed up but I will be better. Promise.”

“I know Dean, I know.”

Taglist:

@hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog

@deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist

@pandasrdbest2341

[theygotlost]

come play venture bros postcanon tuoys with me? :)

hank isnt interested in higher education or a full time career and he literally wrote down his dream job as "drifter". I see him taking up a lot of odd jobs and sporadic minimum wage stuff but really i believe he was meant for the stage. shallow gravy never makes it big time but they get like the weirdest most random gigs ever and eventually they release a full album and everyone fucking hates it and hank gets called a nepo baby. which is true. but going beyond the music hank is always dressing up and playing characters and ofc there was the time he called himself destiny and refused to take off the strength suit you see where im going with this YEP Destiny is his drag name. and im imagining destiny playing shallow gravy gigs so she'd have a kinda gothy alternative amy lee aesthetic going on and she would slay.

in case you havent noticed I hateee that dermott joined OSI it just feels forced and his buzzcut is ugly. dont worry though I can fix this. the thing about dermott is that he talks a big game but in reality is a pathetic loser. it's like that episode of malcolm in the middle where reese joins the army but crumbles as soon as he's faced with combat training. dermott either drops out or gets kicked out for doing something stupid but either way they probably have to wipe his memory and its like it never happened. outside of shallow gravy i see him doing random blue collar stuff and like... riding dirtbikes and shit. also he was probably lying about having a pilots license but idk maybe he does have one. i think he should have one

dean says he doesnt know what he wants to do with his future so his major at stuyvesant is probably still undeclared rn... but remember that for a while his dream job was "boy reporter" and he even printed that adorable little home newspaper so that points to a career in journalism. in the second half of the show dean's vibe is "im probably transgender but there are supervillains trying to kill me so i don't have time to worry about that right now" and being able to have a (relatively) normal college experience away from home around people her own age would be the final push she needs to start transitioning. also i have this vivid image in my mind of dawn becoming a photographer and i have no idea where it came from but that would fit well with the reporter stuff and she could be a photojournalist! but I also see her being interested in fashion photography and doing all of destiny's glamour shots and stuff so that's her hobby that does outside of work .and she NEEEDS to be an obnoxious twee amateur photographer living in NYC she deserves it she's earned it !!!!!

triana's probably an accomplished sorceress by now!! goddd i miss triana i just want her back. idk if she would move to new york permanently but she would come visit her dad and get to hang out with dawn again. and she's realized shes a lebian and they get back together PLEASEE? :3 im not really sure what she would do with her sorcery powers but I guess she could be a low level superhero? she wouldn't be interested in anything crazy like saving the world but she would have fun busting up low level bank robbers and classic stuff like that and she and jared could hang out. or perhaps she's available for hire and will do magic stuff for whoever

[zepskies]

Outlander - Part 4

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC 

Summary: Dean Winchester has been stripped of his military rank, but he’s living happier with his new wife, trying to adjust to a new life in her tribe. What will it take for her people to accept him, especially when the battle for her heart might not be completely won? 

AN: Happy Birthday, Dean Winchester!! 🥳 Now, the actual grand finale…

Disclaimer: I first got inspired to write The Honorable Choice for @jacklesversebingo after a recent rewatch of Spirit: The Stallion of the Cimarron (with a tinge of Yellowstone in the mix). I’ve done a fair bit of research for this now ongoing series, both on the Native American Lakota tribe, and on American history during this time in the late 1800s; AKA: the Old West, during the American Indian Wars.

Jacklesverse Bingo24 Prompt: Western AU

Song Inspo: The Spirit Soundtrack

Word Count: 6K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Protective Dean, survival situations, blood and violence, angst, fluff, and spice.~

🐎 Series Masterlist || Bingo Masterlist

Part 4: One People

Dean straps on his bow and arrow, but first he takes up his gun from his thigh holster. Then he saddles up Mato and climbs up on his back.

The horse is raring to go, and for once he responds to the firmness of Dean’s tone and trusts him enough to obey his commands.

Šóta, Otaktay, and the other men do the same with their horses. Soon, they’re thundering down the hill into the village.

It’s already chaos.

Dean recognizes the blue uniforms of the U.S. Cavalrymen tearing through tipis and shooting with rifles and revolvers. They must’ve tracked Šóta and his men back to the village.

Men and horses are the main targets, but women and children are getting caught in the crossfire. Šóta purposefully knocks his horse into an officer who had his weapon aimed at Misae and her two daughters. Otaktay guides them in the opposite direction, pointing the way to escape into the forest.

Dean rides onward through the village. He and Mato leap over fallen bodies and horses, and Dean shoots at an officer who would’ve shot him first. He has to be careful with his bullets though. He only has two left.

He fights his way to the center, all the while searching for any sight of Mila’s dark hair. It’s almost impossible to see with so many people running and screaming and fighting. But when he hears a familiar voice, Dean cuts to an abrupt stop.

Chief Tahatan rides his horse, white and dappled black. He wields an ax as the horse rears up on his hind legs and lets loose a powerful bray. Just ahead of him is Colonel Sanderson, flanked by Benny and another officer. The Colonel holds a rifle poised in his hands.

“Stop!” Dean shouts.

He rides hard towards the scene. He takes aim with his gun, and he shoots. The bullet clips Sanderson in the shoulder. Yelling in pain, he recoils from the force of the bullet and misses his shot.

Dean’s just not fast enough.

The Colonel’s bullet ricochets off the ground and hits Tahatan’s horse. The animal whinnies and buckles, and he brings Tahatan down along with him, rolling onto his side and crushing the Chief’s legs and most of his torso under the horse’s weight. Dean hears the crunch of bone as the Chief utters a stifled grunt.

Gritting his teeth, Dean brings Mato to a short stop in front of the Chief. Dean aims his gun at the Colonel. By now, the man is clutching his bleeding shoulder and staring at his former captain in disbelief. Benny is maybe a little less shocked to see Dean, but there’s conflict in his eyes—happiness mixed with turmoil.

The other officer is Jack Kline. He recognizes Dean too, with wide eyes and a gaping mouth.

“You…” Sanderson trails. He blinks, his brows furrowing. “Dean Winchester.”

Other officers come to join him, both on their horses and on foot. A few of them have wrangled women and their children, along with a few men. One man is dragging Mila along by the arm, even though she pulls and struggles against his hold. He has a long, jagged cut over one closed eye that streams with blood, and Dean doesn’t have to wonder how it got there. The man holds Mila’s own knife to her throat.

Dean’s heart falls into his stomach as he meets her gaze. Hers is angry, until she finds him. Her brown eyes are relieved and hopeful, but then worried for him. Dean reads it all there. He knows her face as well as he knows his own.

“Now this is what we call an interesting development,” Sanderson says, dragging Dean’s attention back to him.

Dean only feels moderately better when Šóta, Otaktay, Chatan, and a couple of the other men come to flank him on either side. Weaya manages to shuffle away from the officer at her back, just to go to Tahatan. He’s still lying there under his horse, breathing shallowly. Šóta itches to climb down from his horse and go to his father, but he can’t allow Dean to stand on his own.

“Apparently your death has been greatly exaggerated, son,” Sanderson says. He glances at Benny, who wears a grim, guilty frown.

“I’m not your fucking son,” Dean says, his voice laden with grit. His hand tightens on his raised gun.

Sanderson tsks at him while Jack wraps a rag tightly around his arm to help stem the bleeding. Afterwards, he adjusts his blue jacket and his Stetson.

“Is this really how you’ve been living for all these months? Like a dog, sleeping in the thatch with the fleas,” he remarks as he glances around. But his gaze stops on Mila. His brows crunch together as recognition dawns in his eyes.

“Ah, now I see why,” he says. He reaches for his pistol at his belt and points it at Mila, like it’s merely an extension of his hand. Dean’s jaw clenches. Chatan and Šóta become even more tense; their horses shift in place, picking up on their riders’ unrest. Sanderson notes their reactions, and finally Dean’s too.

“Instead of putting this savage bitch down, you took her for yourself, didn’t you?” Sanderson wonders aloud. His face breaks into amusement, as his deep chuckle echoes in the clearing. “You threw it all away. A promising career, your respect as a man, and even your life. A traitor to your goddamn country. And for what?”

His thumb pulls back the safety on his revolver.

“Enough, you bastard. You deal with me,” Dean tersely demands. He slowly lowers his gun, and his last bullet. “Let her go. Let them all go, and you can have me. Court martial me. Hell, put me in front of a firing squad, or put me down like a dog if that’s what you want… But let them go.” 

Mila breaths in sharply. She stares at Dean like she wants to protest.

“Ah, but ya see, I didn’t come here for you,” Sanderson says. Without taking his aim off Mila, his shifts his gaze down to Tahatan, who struggles for every breath. “I’m gonna wash this land clean, from here to the West Coast. However long it takes.”

“Colonel!” an officer calls out. He approaches on a horse, though he leads a man by a rope that ties his wrists behind his back.

Dean’s eyes widen in shock. It’s Cas, and he has Sam as his captive. Sam is dirtier and more disheveled since Dean saw him off not too long ago. He’s lost his hat and his horse, but he doesn’t look afraid when he meets Dean’s gaze, then the assessing Colonel.

“Mr. Winchester. I should’ve known,” Sanderson says dryly. “Here to reacquaint yourself with your brother? Though I’ve got a feeling you already have.”

“What’re you gonna do about it? Kill me?” Sam says. “In case you’ve forgotten, I work for the government too. I’m a prosecutor for all the surrounding counties in Kansas City.”

Sanderson raises a brow. “Is that supposed to intimidate me, son?”

“It should, Colonel,” Sam says. He nods at his brother. “The world already thinks he’s dead. Fine. But there’s plenty of people who know I traveled to Fort Laramie. People high up in the chain of command. If you hurt me, my brother, or these people, someone’s gonna hear about it. And soon.”

“He’s got a point there, Colonel,” Benny says.

“You shut the fuck up!” Sanderson barks at his captain. “You’re lucky I don’t shoot you down where you stand. You and Novak. But believe you me, I’ll be dealin’ with you later.”

Sanderson continues to seethe. He thinks hard about the decision he makes next as he stares down at Sam, and then back up at Dean. He grits his teeth, his mustache twitching. Dean holds his breath, though he briefly meets eyes with his brother.

Slowly, Sanderson lowers his weapon away from Mila. Dean can breathe again, if shallowly. He doesn’t drop his guard though. In fact, he watches Sanderson even closer.

“I’ll give you dirty mongrels one hour to clear out of here,” Sanderson says, his eyes narrowed. “Anything left gets tied down and burned to charcoal.”

With that, he sharply tugs on his horse’s reins. He commands his men to fall back, and like the soldiers they are, they obey. Benny and Cas both cast Dean a backwards glance—one that tells Dean that he still has the loyalty of his friends. He now realizes that Cas brought Sam back for a purpose; it wasn’t to hurt him, but to help him. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if the whole “capture” was Sam’s idea.

After the soldiers clear out of the area with the Colonel, Dean and the other men dismount from their horses. He beelines for Mila, gathering her into the safety of his arms. Then he spares a hand to grab his brother’s shoulder as he smiles.

“I think I’m more glad to see you the second time,” Dean remarks.

“I’ll take that,” Sam says. His grin is infectious, but Dean returns his attention to his wife. He touches her cheek and runs his assessing gaze over her body. He frowns as he examines the thin cut along her neck where the soldier pressed the blade of her knife.

“You okay? Are you hurt?” he asks.

Mila shakes her head. “I’m fine.” Though she inspects him the same way with a wandering hand across his chest. Dean takes that hand and gives her a reassuring smile.

It falls when he hears Weaya crying. She sits beside three other women, including Šóta’s mother.

“Father,” Šóta says lowly. His voice is a rasp as he kneels beside Tahatan’s broken body, holding his hand. The chief manages to raise his head slightly. He looks at his son, and then his gaze travels. Eventually, it falls on Dean.

Tahatan smiles.

“Under this sky,” he says. “We are one people.”

 He takes three more labored breaths before his eyes close. Šóta lays his father’s limp hand over his chest, which no longer moves.

Šóta’s mother gently raises her husband’s head to remove his long headdress. Among other things, it’s made of leather, glass beads, horsehair, and eagle tail feathers. Each feather represents a warrior’s honor earned in war, like a soldier’s insignia. 

With shaking hands, she places it on Šóta’s head. He takes a deep breath, and he looks up at the many tear-stained faces that mirror his own.

“We have to go,” he says.

Sam stays to help mobilize the tribe. He helps a mother join her children into one of the caravans, then he and Otaktay heft rolled up tipis and supplies into the back of it.

“You are a law man?” Otaktay asks him.

Sam nods. “That’s right.”

“Make better laws,” Otaktay says, and walks away.

Sam is left with a bemused look on his face. Dean comes over and thumps him on the back.

“Making friends?” he says dryly.

“Don’t think so,” Sam replies. He shakes his head and follows his brother over to the second caravan.

“Eh, consider yourself lucky. That guy pretty much hates my guts,” Dean whispers.

Sam raises his brows. “What?”

Dean explains the story in its simplest, briefest terms. Meanwhile, the mood around their packing is somber and quiet.

For Mila, it feels wrong. It’s wrong for them to have to leave the river where they’ve tilled and nurtured the land for three generations. It’s wrong to leave Chief Tahatan’s body wrapped beside Takoda’s on the hill without at least one proper night of mourning. She feels her grief down to her very core, but all she can do is sit in the caravan beside her mother and hold protective hands around the small swell of her stomach. Her tears fall silently down her cheeks and dissolve between the indigo beads on her dress.

She only raises her head when Chatan comes to check on her and her mother. He touches Mila’s cheek, drying her tears there. He leans in to kiss Weaya’s hand.

“We leave soon,” he says.

“Where is Dean?” Mila asks.

“Helping Šóta,” Chatan replies, but he stops short and corrects himself. “He helps our Chief.”

A few moments later, the caravans begin to move as the horses pull with the reins. Šóta leads at the front with a few of the warriors, but the rest of them ride strategically around and behind the caravans. Sam and Dean fall back to ride beside Mila’s caravan, where Chatan sits at the helm. Sam has been given the horse of a fallen warrior, while Dean rides Mato.

Despite how low she feels, Mila smiles at the sight of her horse allowing Dean to ride him, even with a saddle and bridle.

“Mato is being agreeable,” she remarks.

“You sound surprised,” Dean says, teasing slightly. “Told you I’d get him to trust me eventually.”

“More like wear him down,” she quips back.

“Hey, he impregnated my mare. Without my say so, I might add. I’d say we’re proper father and son-in-law.”

“Yes,” Chatan chimes in wryly. “That is what that means.”

Mila scoffs at him, but the gleam of good humor in his eyes amuses her. She smiles as she rubs a hand over her belly. Dean smiles too. It’s strange that he can still do that after a night like tonight, but seeing Chatan do it, along with Sam, and Mila, and her mother too, it gives him hope for them—for all of them.

Until the first gunshot fires into the air.

Dean freezes. His body coils tight, and he turns to look sharply over his shoulder.

He shouldn’t be surprised that Colonel Sanderson went back on his word. His cavalrymen are gaining behind them on horseback, hooting and hollering like it’s a game for sport. His jaw clenching in both anger and determination, Dean tells Chatan to speed up the caravan. He locks eyes with Mila for a moment.

Be safe, he tries to say with that look.

Then he gives Sam a nod; together they speed up to alert Šóta at the front.

“They’re gaining on us,” Dean says, gesturing behind them. “We need to lead them away from the caravans and pick ‘em off—as many as we can.”

Šóta nods in grim agreement, but he has a moment of hesitation as he considers Dean.

“You go with the caravans,” he says.

Dean shakes his head. “No, I’m ending this. Once and for all.”

“You are willing to fight your people?” Šóta asks.

The set of Dean’s determined face doesn’t change.

“I’m protecting my people,” he says. He looks to Sam. “Stay with the caravans. Make sure they get across the river.”

Sam agrees, and the men split ways. Dean turns Mato away from the group along with Šóta and Otaktay, and a few other warriors. The caravans continue with Sam to help guide them. Mila clings to the edge and watches with growing dread as her husband rides farther and farther away from her.

Dean can’t allow himself to look back. Instead of drawing his gun, he reaches for his bow strapped to his back and an arrow from his quiver. He takes aim at the first soldier he sees raise his gun, along with a steadying breath, and he shoots his arrow before the other man can fire. The arrow embeds itself in the man’s chest and knocks him clean off his horse.

Šóta and Otaktay follow suit. They shout out yips and battle cries on the air as they take aim. The soldiers begin to scatter out of their formation. They weren’t expecting the Lakota to go on the offensive. Sanderson has conveniently let his men ride ahead of him, but Dean hears him giving the orders from behind. The Colonel has his left arm wrapped in a sling while he holds his gun aloft.

“All right, mustang,” Dean says to Mato, tightening his hands on the reins. “Remind ‘em why they should be scared a’ you.”

He gives the stallion a subtle kick. It’s just enough for him to pick up into a full gallop. Dean tucks his head down and lets the horse speed forward like a bullet carving across the plain. The soldiers take aim, but that’s when Šóta and Otaktay join in from behind. They begin to take down the uniformed men, one by one as they weave between bullets. 

Dean tears between two officers and unbalances them. Mato, with his big head and chest, bulldozes straight through them. They shout in surprise and fear, and one of them even topples off his horse. Dean banks left and turns Mato around to finish what he started.

He retrieves his knife from his thigh holster and slices into one man’s neck, making him choke on his own blood. Dean forcefully takes the rifle off another man, and after flipping it around, hits him dead between the eyes with the butt of it—once, then twice until his nose breaks. He careens back off his horse into the dirt. Dean wracks the rifle and shoots the man for good measure.

The sound of a safety clicking back alerts him and turns his head, but he’s too late.

An arrow flies into the officer’s throat.

Dean looks over sharply. He finds Otaktay, lowering his bow.

Dean’s eyes widen. The other man just saved his life.

Dean nods in thanks, and Otaktay slowly returns the gesture. The moment is cut short, however, when Dean sharpens in alarm. Instead of opening his mouth to warn, he knows he has no time, not even to grab another arrow. He just throws his knife.

It carves through the air and hits Jack Kline where his arm meets his shoulder—his shooting arm that would’ve clipped Otaktay with his pistol. Jack falls off his horse and hits the ground hard, the air leaving his lungs in a hot rush. He groans in pain while clutching his arm. It’s not an easy wound, but he’ll live…as long as Otaktay doesn’t kill him first. Still on his horse, he towers over the younger man with another arrow notched.

“Wait!” Dean shouts.

He meant what he said about finishing this, but now looking at Jack, all Dean sees is a kid following orders. He doesn’t deserve to die like this, hundreds of miles away from home, just trying to make something of himself.

Otaktay looks up, wasting a precious second. Another beat, and a bullet tears into him, almost forcing him off his horse. Dean grits his teeth and speeds forward. Šóta rejoins them in time to help lead Otaktay away; he’s been hit in the side. There’s no telling how deep, but all Dean can focus on is the path ahead.

He comes face to face with Colonel Sanderson.

Dean raises his bow and arrow and ducks his head against another bullet, still shooting off his arrow. It misses its aim at the horse’s legs, but it spooks him enough to whinny in distress. It begins to buck off the Colonel.

“Whoa!” he shouts, trying to take back control of the horse. Dean rides in close and cracks a fist across Sanderson’s face. His head whips back with a pained grunt. Dean grabs his wrist and twists, until he feels tendons popping and the gun loosened from the other man’s hand. Then, Dean brings his elbow up into Sanderson’s nose and spills blood.

“Fuck!” Sanderson growls. He manages to land a punch of his own with his left arm, despite how it makes his shoulder bleed again. Dean recovers from the blow to his cheek and goes to grab that wound, digging in his fingers hard. He’s satisfied by the howl of pain Sanderson lets loose.

Dean doesn’t care if it’s a dirty tactic. He’s taking any opportunity he can, because right now, it’s not about his honor. It’s about protecting what’s his.

But Sanderson fights back just as dirty. He grabs Dean by the back of his neck and headbutts him, so hard he sees stars. Sanderson lands one more kick to Dean’s chest that almost sends him off of Mato. Dean has to grab on tight to the saddle and pull himself up, just in time for a lassoed rope to circle around his neck. Dean’s eyes fly wide in alarm. He slips his hand between the rope and his neck just in time before it tightens—because Sanderson tugs hard as he urges his horse into a gallop.

“Aw, sh—” Dean is yanked off Mato. He lands hard in the dirt, before he begins to be dragged across it.

Once again, the current is strong across Little Cheyenne. The first caravan has more horses to pull it through, but the caravan that Chatan is trying to lead starts to take on water. Mila and her mother sit behind him, along with Misae and her daughters, Tahatan’s widows, and Eyota and her husband.

The colt is doing his best to keep going, but Baby and two of the other horses are struggling in the pull of the river. They’ve hit a deeper patch under the water, and now it’s all the way up to Baby’s chest. She can’t handle the weight of the caravan along with the river’s current.

Sam comes closer with rope in hand, but Mila can see in his eyes that he’s trying to decide what to do. She grasps the edge of the caravan to pull herself up, and she points to the black mare.

“She needs help!” she calls out to him.

“Mila, sit down!” Chatan orders.

Mila turns back to her father with a determined set to her face. She knows his ankle has never healed entirely right. If he tries to do what she’s about to do, he’d probably fall into the river and get trampled by the horses. She knows what she must do.

She carefully stands up all the way and moves to the edge of the caravan, ignoring her father and mother trying to stop her. Sam’s eyes grow wide, but he tries to come in closer to support her. She steps out onto Baby’s back and slides into an astride position. The frigid water climbs up Mila’s dress and reaches her waist, making her shiver, but she ignores that too. She reaches out for Sam.

“Throw me the rope!” she calls out.

Sam follows her lead and does what she says. Mila not only catches the rope, but loops the ends of it around Baby’s bridle and around her chest. It’s hard work, especially because Mila has to tread water just to get the rope around the mare’s wide chest, but Sam helps her as much as he can.

When they’ve finished securing the ropes, Sam pulls ahead. With his horse leading Baby, she gets the momentum she needs to climb out of the dip, and eventually, cross the rest of the river.

Mila is sopping wet by the time they make it to the other side. Her braid has come loose, and so her hair becomes a black curtain around her face. She clings to Baby as she catches her breath, stroking the horse’s neck.

“Good girl. Big, strong girl,” she soothes. “Your father will be proud of you.”

Speaking of, Mila turns to look back. Across the river, the men are still fighting off the soldiers that sought to finish what they started last night. Mila scans with narrowed eyes for Dean.

“You all right?” Sam asks. He sidles up next to her and grasps her shoulder to make sure.

“Fine,” she breathes.

But she hesitates on a sharp inhale. Her brows furrow as she tries to make sure of what she’s seeing. Her mouth drops open in shock.

“Sam!” She points out the shape of a man she thinks is Dean. Sam follows her line of vision and becomes just as alarmed at what he sees.

Mila immediately takes her father’s knife from her shoe and cuts the ropes that bind Baby to the caravan. Mila puts her fingers to her lips and whistles sharply instead of kicking the mare. Baby sharpens to attention and heeds the command, just like she’s done for Dean a hundred times before.

Mila guides her back through the river.

Dean is being road hauled across the plain. He hits every bump, rock, twig, and dry patch of dirt in several yards as he twists and struggles to break free.

He lost his knife to save Otaktay, and he’s probably lost all his arrows along with his bow. Dean grits his teeth, as he can hear Sanderson’s insane hooting and hollering on the wind whipping past his ears, and not much else.

He doesn’t know where Šóta is, or if even Otaktay’s still alive, but his last thoughts aren’t about them. Instinctively, he thinks of his wife. It’s not even a coherent thought. It’s just her name, her face, her hand on his heart.

And the rope snaps.

Dean grunts as his momentum slows. He rolls across the dirt and grass to a stop. He probably has road burns and cuts and bruises all down his back, but at least he can stare up at the morning sun and breathe.

Heaving for free air, he tugs the rope from around his neck and shoves it off. He hears familiar horse hooves galloping his way. Somehow, he manages to raise his head.

Now, either the sun is playing tricks on him, or a black shape is thundering towards him.

Apparently, his eyes aren’t lying to him. Baby slows to a stop, and Mila climbs down from her back. Mila rushes to his side and kneels beside him after putting away her knife. She takes his face into her gentle hands.

“Dean?” she says, her voice tinged with desperation.

He grabs onto her wrist and smiles weakly, looking up at her soulful brown eyes.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he says.

She sighs and shakes her head, despite the tears in her eyes.

“Be quiet,” she laughs. Dean just grins.

She cups the back of his neck and guides him up slowly into a sitting position. His back is a bloody mess, but they’ll deal with that later.

“You all right, brother?”

Dean’s smile drops. He clutches at Mila’s arm protectively, but he looks up at Benny Lafitte. His horse shifts in place. Dean finally notices Sam is there too, with his gun trained on Benny. But Benny’s gun is raised right back at Sam.

They’re joined by Colonel Sanderson. He wears a self-satisfied look on his face as he approaches with his pistol held aloft.

“Well, well,” he drawls. “Ain’t this a picture. Traitors and savages.”

Mila keeps her back to the Colonel; she stubbornly defends Dean with her body, even though he’s gathered her to his chest protectively. With his right hand, he subtly reaches for the gun holster at his thigh. One last weapon. One last shot.

He shares a look with Mila, silently asking her to trust him. She gives him a subtle nod.

“Captain Lafitte,” Sanderson addresses Benny, even though his gaze is straight on Dean and Mila. He holds Sam in his periphery. “Now’s the time to take a stand. Are you gonna serve your country and put these three in the ground where they belong, or are you gonna join ‘em?”

Benny stares back at his superior officer. He thought he understood before, but today is when he truly understands why Dean made his choice.

Benny lowers his weapon down to his side.

“This ain’t the law,” he says. “This ain’t justice. It’s just pride, plain and simple. Your pride, Colonel.”

After a moment of genuine surprise, Sanderson rolls his eyes. He shifts his gun off of Sam and points it at Benny next.

A trigger fires, but the bullet that hits its mark is not the Colonel’s.

It’s Dean’s, and it hits Asmodeus Sanderson between the eyes.

Dean lowers his silver, smoking Colt down at his side, where Mila moved just in time for Dean to take his shot. He holds her to him now, taking in deep breaths.

Benny and Sam both look to Dean with shock still in their eyes, but before either of them can say anything, they notice Cas stumbling over on foot with a wounded Jack Kline leaning heavily on him. They’re flanked on both sides by Šóta and Otaktay. The latter has a cloth tied tight around his middle. His bullet wound just looks like a nasty graze.

The other warriors that remain follow behind, and they have Mato and Baby in tow by their bridles.

Dean realizes that Cas and Jack are the only other survivors from the rest of the unit. Šóta has taken them prisoner. He orders the other men to force Benny off of his horse. They shove him closer to Cas and Jack.

Dean quickly tries to raise up onto his knees, though it’s hard for him to stand. Mila helps him the rest of the way, and he keeps his arm wrapped around her shoulders.

“We will make an example of these,” Šóta says, nodding at Cas, Jack, and Benny. They look rightly nervous, shifting their gazes towards Dean.

Dean raises his hands to placate Šóta (and hopefully reassure his friends).

“Šóta, I know these guys. They were my men,” he says. “They were just following the Colonel’s orders.”

“And what does that mean to me, Dean Winchester?” Šóta says. He climbs down from his horse, his headdress of feathers tousled as a breeze rushes through.

“It means they won’t follow us,” Dean says. “They won’t tell the Army what actually happened here. They’ll keep their word if I ask them to. So I’m asking you…trust me. Trust me like you’ve trusted me before.”

Šóta seems to consider it, even though he doesn’t exactly like the idea. Otaktay seems to like it even less.

“We won’t betray you, Chief,” Benny says to Šóta, and to the other warriors. “We respect you, and we don’t want any more trouble. For us, or for Dean.”

Šóta considers this with a tilt of his head. Before he decides, first, he turns to Otaktay. Other than Dean, he’s now the man Šóta trusts most.

Otaktay looks over at Dean. Between them, there’s an understanding. Finally, there’s also respect. Otaktay returns his gaze to his leader, and he nods.

Šóta expels a deep breath. He addresses the three soldiers.

“Go. Go in peace, or next time, there will not be peace,” he says.

The soldiers breathe in relief.

Dean steps forward with Mila’s help. There he shakes each man’s hand. He’s said goodbye to Cas and Benny before, but somehow, this feels even more final than the last.

Benny and Cas are given back their horses. They help Jack up first, then Cas climbs up with him. Benny mounts his own horse, and Sam, Dean, and the Lakota watch them leave the way they came.

It takes days to cross the plains and maneuver through the mountains, but Šóta leads the rest of the tribe to safety within Sioux territory. They find a place to settle along the Big Cheyenne River, northeast of the Black Hills.

There they will learn the land and what to plant and forage there for the late autumn harvest, as summer ends. There is where they will honor the dead who couldn’t make the journey. There is where their traditions will be celebrated, old and new.

Like today. The men have painted each other with blue circles around their faces and blue lines across their foreheads, chins, and cheekbones. The women are painted similarly in red. It symbolizes change in its many forms, but most of all, it symbolizes new relationships, and new responsibilities.

Today, it’s Huŋkápi. The Making of Relatives. This ceremony formally welcomes Dean into the tribe by marriage. It also recognizes Sam as his brother, and so, it acknowledges Sam as a friend to their tribe as well. They are now all family. One people.

Dean sits with his brother around the large firepit, where a roasted boar is already half-eaten. Dean has shared a lot of meals with these people, but somehow, this one is the best he’s ever eaten. Maybe it’s the company, he thinks, as he laughs at some old story Sam is trying to tell.

“No, no, no, that’s not what happened. Let me tell it—”

“What, so you can make stuff up?”

“Oh, I’m making stuff up?”

Mila giggles quietly, but it’s enough to earn Dean’s attention. She sits at his left, and he turns to her with an amused smile.

“What’re you laughing at?” he teases. His arm wraps around her waist and pulls her in.

“You,” she replies. “You and your brother. You’re worse than me and Šóta.”

Dean chuckles and shakes his head. He points over at her cousin, their esteemed Chief, who’s busy making shadow creatures with exaggerated voices to impress the kids. Right now, it’s a big grizzly bear that threatens to eat the closest child.

“Worse than the grizzly?” Dean says.

“Hmm, maybe not,” she says with a laugh.

That evening, Dean is glad he convinced Sam to start sleeping in his own tipi. He agreed to stay until Mila has the baby, but while Dean is grateful to have his brother here for a few more months, he still wants some much-needed privacy with his wife.

He “helps” her undress for bed, all the while distracting her with lingering kisses across her neck and shoulders, winding his fingers into her long hair. He wraps his arms around her and cups her full breasts from behind, satisfied by the arousing way she moans.

“They’re heavier,” Dean whispers in her ear, gently squeezing her breasts. She hums in response. “Your thighs and hips are thicker too, nice and soft for me.” He squeezes those too for good measure.

“I am changing,” she admits. “Are they good changes?”

“Hell yeah,” Dean says, his lips moving against her throat. He gently turns her around and guides her down to lay on the bedding and furs. He palms at the best change of all—the growing swell of her belly. She’s gotten bigger, and growing a little more each week. Dean really wants to meet his kid.

He dips down to lay a path of slow, tender kisses down between her breasts, and over her belly. Mila smiles and threads her fingers through his hair. It’s getting long, brushing past his ears.

“Do you want a son, or a daughter?” she asks him. It’s not the first time she’s asked, but she wonders if his answer will change now, after everything they’ve gone through to get here. She finds that her own answer hasn’t changed.

Dean shakes his head. “I don’t care. Either one.”

All he wants is for the baby to be healthy, and for Mila to be healthy too. He moves back up to claim her lips. When he kisses her like this, he hopes she knows what he’s really saying. Just in case, he says it anyway. He says it out loud to her for the first time.

“I love you,” he says. He pauses, then smiles a little. “You know, you’re the only woman I’ve ever said that to.”

She smiles, because she knows. With her hand over his heart, she knows.

And when their son is born a few months later, she has a dream. She dreams of an eagle’s wings that shift from white to gold in the light.

Dean plans to give him a name he picked out weeks before, Elijah. It was his father’s middle name. But she will also give their son a name.

Ikíphi, the name her uncle, Chief Tahatan, gave Dean Winchester himself.

Because one day, she knows her son will be worthy of it.

AN: And there we have it! A more definitive end to Dean and Mila's story. 🥹

For those of you who read and enjoyed this, thank you so much for sticking with me through this sequel of The Honorable Choice. This was an idea that wouldn't let go of me once I started, and it's the first time that I've written something like this. 💖💖

Pronunciation Guide:

Wašíču ("wash-ee-jew") Šóta ("sho-tah") Chatan ("chat-tan") Tahatan ("ta-hat-tann") Otaktay ("ogh-tac-tay") Weaya ("we-ayy-ya") Takoda ("ta-koda") Mato ("matt-toe") Misae ("mee-sah-eh")

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[minefield-of-a-ninja]

Black Tie Optional: Final Part

Summary: The last time we saw Vanessa, she was swooning over Dean’s lasting impression. Now, we fast-forward a year to see what she’s up to.

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC Vanessa Martinelli, (eventual) Sam Winchester x OFC Emma Olsen

Warnings for this part: 18+ ONLY, SERIES FINAL REWRITE BECAUSE FUCK THAT REBAR, "one thing about Dean Winchester is, if a Toddler handed him a toy phone, he'd answer it"

Words in this part: 4,800

Author's notes: Follow-up to Plus One.

Thank you, @brrose-apothecary and @stusbunker for the read-throughs and greenlight.

text divider by @talesmaniac89

Prologue | Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

FINAL PART

The wedding party hits a few pubs on the way back to the hotel. Vanessa declares herself to be the “only sensible adult in this car” at their first stop and makes Sam take her place in the front passenger seat for the rest of the ride.

Dean watches her in his rearview mirror as she and Emma snap selfies in the backseat. From the very first moment he met her over a year ago, Dean knew she was special. She’s beautiful, yeah, but she’s so real and funny and smart.  

Vanessa finally meets his gaze, and her eyelids flutter like they always do when she sees him like it’s the first time. He wonders if that’ll ever fade. Dean smiles, and she smiles back.

They pull up to the last bar and pile out onto the curb. 

Dean rounds the hood of the car to where Vanessa is waiting for him as Sam and Emma make their way inside.

“Ya know, that little twinkle in your eye and this dress’re makin’ it hard for me to be a gentleman.” He steps close and reaches for her wrist, pulling her into him.

“Who told you to be gentle?” Vanessa slides her hands inside his unbuttoned jacket to wrap her arms around his waist. When her fingers bump against cold steel, she tenses. “Oh-” 

Dean clasps his hands at the small of her back and looks down at her. “Just in case. OK?” 

Vanessa relaxes in his embrace and nods.

“Kay,” he mutters, dropping a kiss to the crown of her head.

She questions whether she should be troubled by the gun at his back. But she isn’t; in fact, the discovery serves to crystallize what she knows about him into the perfect shape of a man she trusts with her life, and her heart.   

“A’right, Big Guy,” Emma coos as Sam helps her out of the Impala for the last time of the evening. “You and me, utility closet.”

She smooths her hands over her hips and tosses her hair over her shoulders. 

Sam cocks a brow as he lets the heavy backdoor close. “Well, then, I guess we better get movin’.”

Emma giggles, taking off in a sprint with Sam hot on her stilettoed heels. 

“They’re stealing our moves!” Vanessa laughs as Dean helps her onto the curb.

“Borrowing, kitten. No one’s takin’ that broom closet from us.”

Vanessa’s chest warms from his words and the look in his eyes. At one point, she thought Dean would be nothing more than a thrilling memory and story to tell, which sustained her for a while. Now, though, the ability to savor each moment, knowing that once their door closes tonight, he will make her feel like the most deserving, most treasured woman in the building, if not the galaxy, is sure to leave her wanting when he leaves tomorrow. She knows that now. 

“Yo, lovebirds,” Nicole calls. “Let’s get inside so they can announce the bride and groom and start dinner.” She nods toward the ballroom, and Dean and Vanessa reluctantly unwind from each other’s embrace to follow her and the others. 

Emma and Sam are MIA, but Nicole summons enough grace not to call it out. Once the wedding party and their dates are seated at the head table, Toni and her new husband enter the room. The guests cheer, and the first dance begins. 

During the first toast, the missing couple materializes at the head table, disheveled and flushed. Dean snorts a laugh as Sam takes a seat beside his date.

“Sammy, I gotta tell ya,” Dean leans across the table toward Sam. “I like the effect this girl’s got on you.”

Sam seems to blush darker, if possible. “Me, too,” he admits, flicking his bright gaze to meet Dean’s as Emma burrows into his side and the staff serves them salad.

The second course is served while Dean quietly immerses himself in a scenario where he and Sam aren’t hunting the sister of the Almighty. They’re bartenders or electricians with mortgages and dogs and car payments. The only reason either of them breaks a bone or bleeds is because of a mundane accident. They get eight hours of sleep at night and eat three meals a day. He regularly attends weddings and birthday parties with his beautiful girl at his side.

“Should we dance?” Vanessa’s voice creates a fissure of reality in his fantasy.

“Or maybe you don’t dance.” She tucks her chin to her chest and bats the thick dark lashes that frame her cerulean eyes. 

Dean’s momentarily speechless as his daydream twines its way around the very real, very tangible, very beautiful woman facing him with anticipation. She blinks, and he can almost feel the weight of his imagined existence settling around them, shimmering in the pin lights that hang from the rafters. 

“Dean?” Vanessa tilts her head with concern.

“It’d be an honor,” he answers, pushing away from the table to stand, offering her his hand.

Vanessa grins as she slides her hand across his open palm and stands to face him. “Such a gentleman.”

“Hmm. There’s that word again.”

They saunter toward the dancefloor, hand in hand and eye to eye, in time with the bluesy beat from Chris Stapleton’s cover of “Tennessee Whiskey” until they reach the edge. Dean drags her close with a flourish, one heavy hand at the small of her back, fingers teasing the skin that’s bared by the low-cut back of her silk dress, and the other lightly clasping her fingers in his palm. She rests her free hand over his heart and lets him lead the way. 

“Did I tell you how beautiful you are?”

“You did. The last time was about 30 minutes ago, between the mixed greens and beef tenderloin.”

Dean nods. “Then I’m due. You’re beautiful.”

Vanessa smiles.

“Did I tell you how good you smell?” Dean draws small circles over the silky skin of her lower back.

“Probably.” She smirks, and he grins back.

“Did I tell you how hard it’s gonna be to wait another- wait, how long do I have to wait to get you naked?”

Vanessa throws her head back with a hearty laugh.

They dance through Chris Stapleton, John Mayer, and Calvin Harris, chatting with Emma and Sam until the DJ declares a free-for-all, and the rest of the guests flood the dancefloor for “Uptown Funk”.

“Aaand I’m done.” Dean twirls Vanessa once before turning and forging a path through the oncoming crowd, taking Vanessa with him.

“Not feelin’ funky?” She teases. 

“Oh, I can be funky, but not that kinda funky.”

Before they get too far, Dean almost trips over Ari. He recovers quickly when the little girl stares up at him with big brown eyes that aggressively tug the strings of his heart.

“Ari, honey, you’re underfoot!” Silvia playfully scolds her granddaughter. “She just wants to dance.”

Ari sways side to side and bounces on the balls of her feet. 

“There ya go!” Vanessa croons, reaching for one of Ari’s hands to play along with her. She’s only slightly taken aback when Dean reaches for the little girl’s other hand.

Ari giggles and hops up and down as the trio dances back toward the crowd. There are other people Ari could dance with; her uncles and aunts are all there, but she seems drawn to Dean and Vanessa. Especially Dean.

The DJ really likes Bruno Mars because he follows “Uptown Funk” with “Count On Me”. Ari pulls her hand out of Vanessa’s grasp and reaches for Dean to pick her up, and Dean doesn’t falter.

Unlike Vanessa, Sam is floored by Dean’s eagerness to entertain the pre-schooler. He watches with unrestrained curiosity. 

“It’s pretty sweet of him to look after Ari like that,” Emma says, resting her temple against Sam’s chest as she watches the little girl twine her fingers with Dean’s.

“Yeah,” Sam replies. “Dean’s good with kids. I’m just not used to seeing him with kids for pure enjoyment.”

Emma looks up at him, brow arched. “Is that an allusion to the family business?” 

Sam startles before meeting her curious gaze with a shrug. “I guess it is.”

“Really?”

He nods. “It’s complicated.”

Emma chuckles and rolls her eyes. “Of course it is.”

“No, I mean it.” He pauses, thinking about the times he didn’t tell the people he cared about what he did with his life, and they still died. “But... I’ll tell you about it. Later.”

“Are you sure?” Emma marvels.

“I’m sure.”

Five feet away, Vanessa watches Dean slowly shuffling side to side, holding the little girl on his hip. He spins in a circle like a Disney prince twirling his princess — like chivalry and devotion are embedded in his DNA. She wants to shower him with that kind of affection and tenderness, not just lust. And she’s fully aware of how hard she’s fallen for him with no way of getting up.

After a couple of songs, Ari has settled her head on Dean’s shoulder. A yawn and an eye rub beckon Silvia to collect her granddaughter for bed.

“Come on, Cinderella.” Silvia reaches for Ari, and Dean hands her over. “Don’t want you turning into a pumpkin right here in front of everyone.”

Ari nuzzles her grandma, waving to Dean as Vanessa takes her place as Dean’s dance partner. The couple waves back, bidding goodnight to Silvia and the little girl.

Dean refocuses his attention on his date, skimming an arm around her waist to pull her close. 

Vanessa fiddles with his tie a little before speaking. It’s been such a nice night. She doesn’t want it to end. 

“To answer your question from earlier, we can go upstairs any time you want after they cut the cake. But I have plans for tonight.” She meets his gaze. “So whatever you had in mind’s gonna have to wait.”

Dean holds his hands up in surrender. “No arguments here.”

As promised, once the cake is cut, Vanessa leads Dean to their suite. They have the elevator to themselves. As the doors close, Vanessa turns and slides her hands up over his shoulders and around his neck.

“I’ve been thinking about you all night.”

Dean smirks, mimicking her soft touch as he skirts his hands around her waist. 

“You’ve been with me all night, kitten — don’t have to think too much.” 

She shakes her head, her fingertips dancing over the ultrasoft nape above his collar. 

“What you did for Ari tonight was incredibly generous. I just want to show you the same kind of warmth and generosity.”

Dean scoffs and fidgets under her scrutiny, pulling her closer so he doesn’t have to look her in the eye. “She’s a kid; it ain’t hard to be nice to kids.”

Vanessa gently pushes back a few inches to look at him. “It wasn’t just nice, Dean. You danced with her because her dad couldn’t be there. You salvaged the heart of a 4-year-old.”

Dean rolls his eyes and tries to pull away, and Vanessa keeps a hold on his wrists.

“I mean it.” 

Dean sighs and finally stops hedging away as he settles his wary gaze on her.

“I know next to nothing about your background — your family, your day-to-day life — but I see the way your brother looks at you — like you hung the moon. And you give me confidence in a way no man has since my dad died.”

Dean’s brow furrows, and he steps back in to draw her closer. “I’m sorry, honey.”

“No, that’s not why I told you that.” She steps away and sighs. 

The doors open at their floor, and she steps out of the car, pulling him with her in silence until they reach their suite. Dean keys the door open and ushers her inside. 

“I’m gonna get out of this dress, but I still have some things I want to say, so...” she turns to face him as she kicks her shoes off just outside their bedroom door. “Get comfortable.”

Dean braces himself. “Whiskey comfortable, or boxers comfortable?”

Vanessa chuckles. “Boxers.” 

She enters their bedroom and heads to the bathroom to change. After filling a couple of water glasses, Dean follows. He undresses down to his boxers and undershirt and zips away his formal attire in its garment bag. Just as he’s settling against the head of the bed to scroll his phone, Vanessa comes out in a bathrobe with her hair tied on top of her head.

Dean sets his phone aside. “I didn’t know bathrobes were sexy, but here we are.”

Vanessa grins as she climbs onto the bed and astride Dean’s hips. “Says you in your plain white undershirt and black boxer briefs. You’re beautiful.”

Dean tucks his chin to his chest, sliding his hands up her thighs to meet her bare hips. “What’d you wanna tell me?”

“Things I want you to know.” She smooths her hands from his shoulders over his chest and back again.

“Maybe you don’t wanna hear this from me, or maybe my opinion of this side of you doesn’t matter, but you’re a beautiful man, Dean, in every way imaginable — you’re beautiful. You’re tough and strong but soft in all the best ways.” 

Dean drops his gaze to his lap, carefully considering his next words. He can’t tell her about gods and monsters. He can’t show her the decades-old bloodstains on his hands. He’ll never be able to 100% guarantee her safety from the things that go bump in the night.

But he can tell her some things.

“My mom died when I was Ari’s age,” he pauses, clearing his throat as he meets her eyes. “Sammy was six months old.”

Vanessa clamps her teeth over her bottom lip, biting back the emotion that threatens to well in her eyes. She nods, encouraging him to continue.

“Dad never really recovered. We grew up on the road, in the Impala and cheap motels.” He tilts his head, and his lips twist with a wistful smile. “The family business is... we help people. In ways a lot of other people can’t.”  

“So, you’re not in the mob.”

“No, we’re not in the mob.”

“I’m a triage nurse. That’s why...” She motions to his scarred knuckles. “I recognize scars and injuries pretty quickly. It’s hard not to notice you and your brother’s.”

“Explains a lot,” Dean replies, thinking not only of her skills in assessing a situation but her instincts and her compassion.

“My dad was a cop,” she continues. “Killed in the line of duty. You remind me of him — in a good way — like how kind and attentive you are. That’s definitely not to say you’re like a dad to me.”

“Glad ya said that because I was startin’ to worry,” Dean chuckles.

“I don’t know if I can ever be as good as you,” she ponders. “As good as you are making people feel important — but I’d like to try to show you how you make me feel.”

“Mmm, is that the plan you had for tonight before we started talking serious shit?”

“Mmhm.” Vanessa nods. “The serious shit had to be said, but I know- I know this is a limited-time kinda thing. And I get it. My job is crazy, too. But I’ll think about you all the time, and I hope you’ll think about me.”

Dean studies her for a moment. The daydream from dinner floats back into his mind, but this time, she knows what he really does, accepts him, and he’s able to keep her safe. He wishes he could ask his dream self how it’s done.

“I’ll never stop thinkin’ about you, kitten.”

“Then let’s make the most of our last few hours, shall we?” She leans in for a long kiss, and Dean allows himself to be loved by her for one last night.

Dean sips his coffee as he and Sam depart the Windy City in the wee hours of Sunday morning.

“I told Emma,” Sam breaks the typically sanctioned early morning silence. 

“You told Emma what?” Dean grumbles.

“About us,” Sam answers. “What we do.”

Dean blinks. “Wow. And how-”

“She believed me. That was my biggest fear — that she’d think I was making it up or something.”

Memories of Cassie, furious and cold, fill Dean’s mind. She didn’t believe him, and, really, who could blame her? Their life is absurd.

“What brought that on?” Dean asks as he merges onto the interstate, headed east, poking around for leads on Amara.

“I like her, Dean. A lot.”

Dean’s quiet for a while. He doesn’t know how Sam’s going to keep this going; he wouldn’t be able to, but if anyone can do it, it’s Sam.

“So... now what?” Dean’s genuinely curious.

Sam shrugs. “We take it slow. Keep in touch. How’d you leave things with Vanessa?”

“Left it where it’s at,” Dean answers immediately.

Sam rolls his eyes to look out the windshield and sighs. “So you think I made a mistake?”

“No.”

“No?”

“No. It’s me, Sam. I’d fuck it up. You’re better at this stuff than I am.”

Sam opens his mouth to argue but thinks better of it; Dean’s made his mind up. 

When Dean tells him that Vanessa knows more about his scars and wounds than a typical civvy, Sam tells him what he knows about Vanessa -- that she’s a triage nurse. He tells Dean that Emma’s also a nurse and that Nicole’s a surgeon. Dean’s response is less than appreciative.

“You know what, Sammy? I can do without the updates. I left it there for a reason. Drop it.” He gave Sam the same edged look that accompanied a threat to break his nose if he ever mentioned Lisa or Ben again, and Sam silently agreed to his conditions.   

But Sam cares more about Emma with every passing phone call. She’s intelligent and rational enough to handle the knowledge of what they do, so he keeps her as apprised of his life as she does of hers. Over the next few years, he grows to openly love her in a fully rounded, adult way that he’s never known. 

He begins to pity and then, later, resent Dean for ‘leaving it there’ because Sam loves Emma. He wants a real life with her. He knows that choosing to keep Emma in his life has made his life better, and he believes Vanessa could do the same for Dean.

Then one night, four years later, Sam and Dean end up in a place that demands Dean re-evaluate leaving Vanessa behind.

Canton, Ohio...

“Alright, let’s go find those kids and get them outta here.” Sam sheaths his machete.

“Sam. I don't-” Dean groans. “I don't think I'm goin’ anywhere.”

“What?” Sam looks over at his brother where he’s awkwardly stood against a post. “What’re you talking about?” 

“There's somethin’ in my- somethin’ in my back. Feels like it's right through me.”

Sam walks closer, reaching around Dean's back. When he brings his hand into the dim light, he sees it’s covered with blood. 

“Alright, umm.” Sam looks around the barn, wiping his hand on his pants as he reaches for Dean’s shoulders. “Hold on. OK. I got you.”

“No, no, no, no, no. Don't- don't move me. It feels like this thing's holdin’ me together right now.”

Sam huffs, reaching for his phone. “I’m calling Emma.”

“What? No. Just- just gimme a minute.”

Sam shakes his head. “No, Dean. No more minutes. Emma’s an ER nurse. Here in Canton. I’m calling her.”

Sam paces toward the barn door.

“Sam! Stay wi- stay with me. Can you stay with me, please?” Dean’s breath is labored, and his eyelids flutter.

Sam turns back to face his brother, keeping one hand on his shoulder while he holds the phone with his other. “I’m right here, man. I got you.” 

“What’s wrong?” Emma's voice comes across the speakerphone clear and concise.

“We’re in a barn about seven miles north of the town center. I sent you a pin. Dean’s... impaled... on a piece of rebar. Against a post.”

Dean groans again. “Sammy-”

“Fuck. OK.” Emma’s voice is temporarily muffled, and then it’s obvious by the rushed way she’s speaking that she’s running. “Where’s the entry wound?”

“His back. I think his heart.” Sam winces as his brother’s head lolls and sways. 

“Did it come through his chest?” She asks before muttering to someone on her end of the line to ‘head to the old barn down the road’.

“No- no, nothing in the front. Just the back. His clothes are soaked.”

“OK. Van’s calling the paramedics.”

“What?!” Dean wails, suddenly alert. “No! Not Nessa.” 

“...but we’ll get there faster,” Emma continues despite Dean’s protestation. “And I’m guessing you’re gonna need help covering up whatever you were fighting.”

Sam would tell Emma not to bring her roommate and best friend if his brother wasn’t dying before his eyes. He wants to honor Dean’s wishes to keep her safe, but he’s exhausted by Dean’s insistence that telling her is a bad idea. 

“Dean, this is happening,” Sam says before resuming his conversation with Emma. “Five vamps. How far are you?”

“We’re literally 60 seconds away. Do not remove him from the rebar until we get there. Find something to cut him down, and we’ll help. Hang in there.”

“See you then,” Sam says to Emma before disconnecting his call. 

“Nessa can’t- I can’t let her see me, this...” Dean pleads. 

“She can and she will. You’re not dying today. Emma knows everything, and Vanessa isn’t stupid. They’re coming to keep you alive, and I’m not arguing with you about this anymore.”

Sam quickly glances around the room until he locates the kind of tool he needs. “As soon as they get here, I’m grabbing those bolt cutters and cutting you down. We’ll go outside and wait for the paramedics. I’ll take the boys somewhere safe and meet you at the hospital.”

“All this time... was tryna keep her safe, away from all this.” Dean hangs his head.

Sam lifts his chin. “Dean, she’s strong. If there was ever a time to let her in, it’s now.”

Right on cue, Emma and Vanessa race through the door with bags of first aid supplies. 

“Get the bolt cutters; we’ll hold him up,” Emma instructs, removing what looks like a camping chair from an orange bag and turning it into an emergency gurney.

Then Vanessa takes over for Sam.

“Nessa,” Dean whispers as she cups his face in her hands. “I’m so- sorry. I couldn’t-”

Vanessa sniffs and shakes back tears “No apologies. Just stay with me. I need to assess the damage here, OK?”

He blinks slowly and gives her a lazy nod. 

“Where’s most of the pain, Dean?”

Dean shakes his head to stay awake, blinking rapidly. “At the entry. Everything else just feels... warm.”

“OK.” She moves to the side to give Emma room to take Dean’s other side as Sam works on the rebar with the bolt cutters. “Get as close as you can, Sam.”

She finally glances around the barn to see several decapitated bodies, the heads donned with masks. Her blood runs cold, and her heart races.

“Hey,” Dean’s voice cracks. “Don’t look at them; look at me, honey.”

Vanessa drags her gaze from the grisly scene to Dean’s pale face. She nods and gives him a weak smile before wedging herself under the opposite arm as Emma, keeping her eyes on him as he asked.

“Your breathing is labored. I’m guessing Sam’s right, and it’s your heart.” Tears fill her eyes as Dean tilts his head to rest against hers. She whispers. “Maybe your left lung. You’re lucky. Nicole’s one of the top Vascular surgeons in the country.”

“OK, I got a grip on this thing. Count of three,” Sam says before counting down and cutting clean through the steel.

The women hold him steady while Sam helps guide Dean to the stretcher and carry him outside.

“Fuck,” Dean breathes as Vanessa kneels beside him. “If I make it through this-”

“When. Not if.” She dips in to kiss him, hovering over him while Sam and Emma work quickly to hide the bodies in the barn. “You’re gonna make it, and you’re gonna tell me what I just saw in there.”

Dean blinks, and tears roll from his eyes. “I will, honey. I will.”

The paramedics arrive moments after Sam and Emma exit the barn. Vanessa gives them his vitals and a partially fabricated info dump as they work to stabilize him. As they load him into the ambulance, she climbs in.

“I got him, Sam. Meet us at the hospital.” She closes the doors, and the ambulance takes off. 

Dean wakes up in a brightly lit room. He remembers bits and pieces of a conversation that he fears and prays is real. When his vision clears, and he sees the person beside his bed, he’s 90% sure of what he remembers.

“Nicole?” he mumbles, his voice barely above a whisper. “You an angel?” 

Nicole smirks and arches a brow. “Cute. I’m your surgeon, tough guy. This is what we call a post-op check.”

He’s now 100% sure.

“Post-op? What op?” He tries to joke as he shifts his weight very slightly and groans in pain. 

“You showed up here last night with a hunk of steel through your heart and lung. I took it out.” She checks his pulse, pokes at him, and prods. Dean’s 90% sure she’s being a little rougher than normal. “Good thing your brother didn’t ghost Emma like you ghosted Van.” 

“Ow!” And 100% it is.

“And, hmm,” she taps her chin. “You do know my name.”

“‘Course I do, I’s just fuckin’ with ya.”

Nicole rolls her eyes. “You’re doing great, Dean. I’ll be back later to check in again. Meanwhile, there’s a couple of people here to see you.”

Nicole draws the curtain that separates Dean from the rest of the room. On the other side sits Sam and Vanessa.

“Eat something if you’re hungry; otherwise, rest.”

Nicole breezes out of the room, leaving Dean with Vanessa and Sam, the latter of whom stands next to Dean’s bed, looking down at his bruised and bandaged brother with a tired smile. 

“You hungry? I can order you some food.”

“I’m starvin’, man. Get somethin’ bad for me.”

Sam rolls his eyes and chuckles. “Sure thing. Be back in a bit.”

He gives Vanessa a pointed look as he leaves the room.

Vanessa remains seated on the vacant bed across from Dean’s. She’s silent and thoughtful.

“You uhh, workin’?”

She shakes her head. “Just finished my shift.”

Dean nods. He doesn’t know if he should jump right in or what, so he asks her a question.

“How much do you know?”

She draws a deep breath and sighs. “That you saved two little boys and probably dozens more the other night.”

Dean closes his eyes. “Vampires are real.”

“Jesus,” Vanessa whispers, standing and moving to the side of his bed. She grasps his hand tightly. “What else?”

“Ghosts, ghouls, shapeshifters, werewolves, fuckin’ demons. They’re all real. Angels.” He squeezes her hand. “Angels are dicks, by the way, which is kinda shitty that I asked Nicole if she was one after she saved my life.” 

He chuckles, and Vanessa huffs a surprised laugh before settling on the edge of his bed. She strokes his forehead, and he hums. “I won’t say I wish you’d told me before now because I’m just grateful you’re alive to tell me now. Your recovery will be lengthy. You’ll need physical therapy.”

Dean reaches for her other hand, twining their fingers together and waiting for her to meet his gaze. “OK.”

“I’m not your doctor, so I can’t advise you officially, but as someone who loves you, I hope you’ll stay long enough for me to help and... for us to get reacquainted.”

Dean grins, realizing just how bone tired he truly is. He yawns through his grin and tugs her close. 

Vanessa dips in to press a kiss to his forehead, each cheek, and his lips. “Please stay,” she whispers.

Dean tilts his chin and meets her lips again, brushing back and forth. “OK, kitten. You got me. As long as you want me.”

When Sam returns to Dean’s room, he finds Vanessa curled around him, keeping him safe and warm. She and Dean are both fast asleep, smiling and breathing steadily.

Sam leaves the macaroni and cheese on a tray and backs away to leave them in peace.

Series master list | Dean Winchester Masterlist | SPN Masterlist | All Fic Masterlist

[these-emo-thoughts]

Pit Babe Anniversary Rewatch! Episode 1!

I can't even begin to describe how happy I am to be rewatching one of my favourite shows and sharing in the joy with others 🥹 Below are my thoughts of the episode as I watched it, I'm trying not to simp so much for the show and the actors entirely, but I think I failed in that department 🤣

So, in the words of Speed of Love - Let's go! Let's go, let's go, let's go! 🙌

Theme song is still an absolute banger and the clips for the intro are fan-fucking-tastic ahhhhh I'm so excited!!

Hello, old friends 🥹 Yes, even you Winner, lol.

ESPECIALLY YOU WAY 🖤

(Why is it fitting to me that Way is reported to have a fabulous record for the racing season? Is it because he's played by the fabulous Nut Supanut? Yeah, probably 🤣)

Thank you Alan for the omegaverse commentary 🙏

Vroom vroom

Babe is so freaking beautiful, ugh

Ohhh, that lil fist-bump between Babe and Way when Babe comes out of his 'concentration'... my heart is already like, hurting, lol

HELLO CHARLIE! Look at you in your suspicious lil get-up, creeping in the corner, lol

Actual racing in the racing omegaverse show - I swear I didn't forget, lol

Sonic in his coat 😍

Okay but Dean being part of the team and being so supportive... my boy 😭

The uncle-being-single bashing began really early didn't it 🤣

OKAY CAN BABE AND WAY STOP BEING SO CUTE TOGETHER???

One of my favourite things in any BL is one character pinning another one against the wall and keeping them in place by holding their arms. What I like about Babe doing this to Charlie is that cute lil smile Charlie gives Babe when he turns around after his face-mask is removed 🥹

I get Babe, Charlie's request for a car is a weird one, I'd be confused too LOL

I LOVE how smug Babe looks, I bet $100 he did NOT think that Charlie would take his bait which is why he's egging him on so much

But damn, Charlie can give back just as well 👀

OKAY BUT Charlie hesitantly trying to kiss Babe on the lips but Babe turning to the side so he gets a cheek instead and then shrugging like "idk" is just perfection

And when Babe realises that Charlie doesn't have an alpha scent and then smiles like he's won the lottery and then gets super into it? Amazing.

North pls you are my favourite social media vlogger, I love you LOL

Lmao I would hate to be in Charlie's position, with everyone betting how long I'd last with the great Pit Babe. And ofc, Way starts the betting LOL

HERE HE IS, THE WORLD'S BIGGEST LOSER, WINNER, COMING TO STEAL THE SHOW SPOIL THE PARTY

AGAIN, I WOULD HATE TO BE CHARLIE RN LMAO

Love that Winner has an entourage cheering him on for some reason, he's so smug too about winning the first round (bb boy, you're not winning much else this series so enjoy while it lasts LOL)

The romantic break with Charlie and Babe looking at each other while Babe is doing doughnuts has me hollering

Idk how Babe won the drifting when there were two rounds and he and Winner each won one, but CONGRATS BABE

And congrats Charlie for not being Winner's new plaything, lol

It really does feel like Babe has never met a person like Charlie before doesn't it? Charlie from the get-go makes it clear he doesn't want to take advantage and is fine with Babe saying no to not staying over to sleep. Pavel's subtle acting really makes it seem as though Babe is mildly surprised, imo

KENTA BABY BOY, HELLO, I MISSED YOU AND YOUR CREEPING ASS 😭

TONY!

Alan in a singlet top 🥵

There's a lot of vroom vroom in this episode 🏎️

Wise uncle Alan giving such great words of advice to Way about his feelings for Babe too bad he doesn't FOLLOW IT

Charlie, like, transforms when he's doing a sex scene with Babe. His eyes, his expression, it's all so seductive

The "no kissing" trope, ugh, yes (made even better with the way Babe is SQUISHING Charlie's cheeks)

I'll still... never get over the design of this house 😭 or the fact that it was used as the restaurant for This Love Doesn't Have Long Beans LOL

Charlie's little "bye bye!" is so cute

Babe's mood swings, imma get whiplash, Charlie is god's strongest soldier for weathering that storm lol

Charlie the maid without the uniform 🤣

I'm assuming this was a slight timeskip and was not just the next day because of how Charlie says they've already had "test drives" many times by now lol

They're already so domestic, I can't-

The "bye bye" again, so CUTE 😭

The father (Alan), son (Babe), and holy spirit (Way) of X-Hunter LOL

From the very BEGINNING Way is planting the seeds of Charlie being sus, set up for us to believe it's because of his not-so secret feelings for Babe - a red herring if I ever saw, and done so well

God, even when Charlie is waving "bye bye" to Way it's cute. I don't ever remember him being this adorable in my first watch, but I'm smitten now 🤣

Charlie not getting jealous that Babe checked out another man and instead saying "I don't know why you found me special" 😔

BUT IT'S SO CUTE HOW BABE TALKS TO CHARLIE HERE AJSFALFJSL, they look so HAPPY!!

Man, I know he's the absolute worst kind of villain, but I love S Vorarit so much, lol

AHHHH the phone call! Innocent lil Charlie isn't so innocent after all!

Ep 2 preview 👀

KIM! WELCOME!!

Way looks so much like a good friend in the preview: "keep an eye on Charlie", bc we just saw from that phone call we might not be able to trust him 👀

And ofc the iconic behind the scenes that Change so generously gives us (more pls 🤣)

Such a great first episode, very much enjoyed the rewatch, hopefully will get to Ep 2 tonight as well (BABY BOY JEFF WAS NOT IN EPISODE 1 AT ALL 😭)

[majesticwren]

this now exist. it's a silly little drabble to put my heart at ease. it had been rattling in my brain ever since WM thanks to @hirunoka and now here we are - it was ofc supposed to come out like weeks ago but I'm a busy bitch lmaooo. I leave and breathe for the shield, always have, always will. they are the reason why I got back into wrestling the first time 10 years ago and why I got back into it again almost 2 years ago now. I will always be grateful to everything they gave me and everything they always meant to me, so I needed to write this. please, enjoy. also, for anyone interested, I wrote this thinking about this song in particular, which to me will always represent the shield shipping party

masterlist

It had been a hot minute since Dean stepped foot in WWE. He was done. He had been done a long time. For more reasons than he could ever explain, the fight got finally taken out of him five years ago and he hanged his boots for good.

Fighting had been his life for so long that he had to learn to exist without it. He had to rewire himself to be mundane and to deal with emotions in healthy ways. And it had been mostly difficult. Hell even. Dean had never felt as out of place as he did in those past five years. Even now, he couldn’t consider himself quite settled.

But it wasn’t enough for him to come back. There were monsters, waiting for him in those fights he craved that he never wanted to meet again. 

He couldn’t say he didn’t miss it. Some things he missed every day. Some people he missed like he would with parts of himself. But, no matter how much the melancholy gnawed on his bones or the old habits whispered in the back of his mind, he was certain he would never come back to WWE.

Until Seth called.

It wasn’t the first time that someone from inside the company tried to get him to come back. Not that Dean spoke with many people from that old life anymore. Only Seth remained a constant in his life. And even though he had desperately tried to push him away multiple times, it always seemed like Dean could never entirely banish him. He wasn’t allowed to forget his past life.

“You need to be there,” Seth’s words still echoed in Dean’s mind, “I don’t care how. Leave that out to me, I’ll get you through. You can kick and cry about it, but you need to be there.”

For once, Dean hadn’t tried to fight him and simply agreed. He didn’t try to compromise or have things go his way. His defeated “Okay,” came as a surprise for him too, but he knew Seth spoke the truth. He needed to be there.

Something was pulling in his chest, a feeling not even he could ignore. It was something old, something almost forgotten, yet real. It tasted sour, like tears and sweat; hard, like heartbreak; but it was also encouraging and soft, like brotherhood. Dean had never been able to find his place in that world again because he had already found it before, and nothing would have ever compared to it. No one stood a chance to understand him, to love him, to deserve his trust, just as much as his brothers did.

And so, even though his biggest fight ever was to keep away from that world that almost ate him alive, Dean was set to be there tonight. For Seth. And, especially, for Roman.

Like never before in his career, Roman stood a good chance to lose everything tonight. His title, his empire, his sanity. And Dean wasn’t about to let him slip away. Both he and Seth knew what was at stake. And, even though they both hadn’t agreed to anything Roman did in the past few years and hardly recognised the man they considered a brother under that mask Roman liked to wear, leaving him alone as his world crumbled was out of the question.

It was needed. Roman had embarked on a dark road and it was time to stop him, but hell if Dean was going to leave him alone.

Now, Dean was watching it happening live in front of his eyes. 

From backstage he could hear the crowd roar in response to everything happening in the ring. He remembered what it felt to hear them chant for him when he was their hero. He remembered how dangerously tempting it was to be on top of their world. But he had never liked the glory. Not truly. Not deep down. He wasn’t born to be a champion. His glory was born from the ashes of the biggest heartbreak of his life. It was still such a dark place he didn’t want to drift away to.

Dean fidgeted, switching his weight from one foot to the other, impatient and nervous. He didn’t feel at ease. He wasn’t supposed to be there. His past and present kept mixing in his thoughts and emotions, rattling his nerves. Even his clothes had started to itch on his skin. 

Especially when Dean saw Seth going out in his S.H.I.E.L.D. attire; so much of their past just flooded through him, cancelling out the past ten years and mixing all his memories. Their first WrestleMania. Seth’s betrayal. Dean clinging for his life to their fight, spilling sweat and blood for it, unable to let go. Roman never left his side. The three of them disagreed but never lost each other completely for all the years to come; it was all there, still burning in his chest.

They exchanged a long look and a silent nod, acknowledging that they both were feeling the same things, as they crossed paths before Seth proceeded to go help Rhodes.

Seth had to do what he had to do. The right thing was to help Cody. Dean had no doubt about it and he wasn’t about to hold a grudge. In this match, in this feud, Cody Rhodes was the better man and he was the only one able to bring an end to Roman’s empire. 

But just because Dean was aware of what was going on and supported Seth’s decision, knowing he would be distraction enough to Roman to give Cody a chance, it didn’t mean that it was any easier to watch Roman fall. 

One. Two. Three. 

Roman Reigns was defeated. His empire was over.

The crowd went wild. The American Nightmare song exploded into the stadium. The Lincoln Financial Field foundations shook.

Dean watched it as it happened but had nothing to celebrate for. If anything, he was ready to mourn, because Roman had just lost everything.

He then waited for what it felt like a lifetime. Seconds mixed with hours, it felt all the same and it didn’t matter, Dean’s heart was still about to explode.

No one was backstage waiting for Roman with him. None of his closest people. No friends. He had no one, but a ghost right out of his past there for him. That was probably the saddest thing of it all.

When Roman emerged from the curtains, he looked like hell. He looked exhausted. He had fought, Dean had no doubt he tried to defend his empire with everything he had in him and he was to be praised for that. He may have been wrong on many things recently, but he was still a gladiator. 

However, it wasn’t how worn out Roman looked that moved Dean enough to take a step forward even before he could think about it. It was the fact that he was crying. Emotions streamed clear down his face, scarring his handsome features and crossing his face with pure pain. His mask was gone. He was only a man, now.

Roman gasped, looking at him in the eye. He was clearly surprised to see him. He was probably the last person Roman would expect to find there. Dean couldn’t blame him. After all, they haven’t spoken in years by now. But he wondered whether or not Roman hoped to find someone else. 

If that was the case, Dean felt his fragile heart already creaking under the pressure. But again, he wasn’t there for himself. If Roman hoped for someone else to be there, then tough shit because he had only him left. And Seth. In the end, it kept coming back to the three of them.

There was a pause as the air stood still between them. 

Roman and Dean only looked at each other for a few moments, studying the men they became in the long time that divided the brothers they once were. 

Dean saw something break inside Roman. It was like it fell right out of Roman’s chest and into his. And he was ready to catch it. He was ready to catch him.

Without anyone needing to speak one word, they both moved, attracted by a silent, invisible magnetism and embraced each other. Dean grabbed solidly on Roman’s big frame as the man let himself go against him, releasing a tired, broken sigh.

“I got you,” Dean whispered, and then said again, louder, over and over as he cradled Roman gently. 

Roman cried into his shoulder. It took him a minute to react, but when he wrapped his arms around Dean, his hold was so strong he was almost squeezing the breath out of his chest. Roman’s fingers clawed on the material of his t-shirt, grasping at him like he was his only lifeline. So, he proceeded to squeeze him more, just to make him feel he was there.

“I got you. You are not alone.”

Later that night Dean and Roman sat on a couple of bleachers on one of the higher rings, from where they had a pretty good view of the empty stadium. It was still completely lit by the powerful white lights, making it look melancholic and uncanny.

Roman was calmer now. He was still defeated, losing took everything out of him. Dean suspected he had cried all his tears out and had nothing else to give, now. He looked heartbroken; his pain still followed like a heavy shadow. He was empty now. Which was a good thing, Dean thought, at least Roman wouldn’t have been consumed by his own anger or gone into self-destruction mode. Not just yet, at least.

They sat quietly, shoulder to shoulder, sharing a pack of non-alcoholic beer as they looked at the stage and the ring being dismantled.

“You know,” Roman started, he had been quiet for so long that suddenly hearing his thunderous voice startled Dean, “for a moment, out there, when I saw Seth, I didn’t know what year it was anymore. I wasn’t sure what had happened and what had been a dream.”

“I know,” Dean nodded, thinking long and hard about his words, “I am afraid all of it happened. Not much was a dream.”

“I am sorry,”

“Don’t be. We all make mistakes.”

“I gave everything to that championship. I fought like hell. I-”

Dean shook his head, willingly interrupting Roman before he’d spiral into his own darkest place. “You did. And you had one of the longest reigns in history. No matter what, you can always be proud of that,”

“It was just so easy to lose, you know?”

“I know,” Dean released a sigh, still remembering so well how hard it was to have it taken away, “That’s how things go though. Championships are meant to be won and to be lost.”

Roman didn’t reply. He just looked in the distance, releasing a tired, sad sigh. 

“Now, we rebuild,” Dean dared, still trying his best to pull Roman away from throwing himself off the edge of some dark thoughts and spiral in his own head.

Roman paused, hanging onto Dean’s words. “Do you want to know something?”

“Tell me,”

“I feel free,” the timid smile that popped on Roman’s lips was a surprise that made Dean release a relieved sigh.

“I bet you do, big boy,” he patted heavily the man’s shoulder and then left his hanging on Roman’s shoulders, “I bet you do.”

“You couldn’t have picked a better place to reach for a motherfucker with a shattered knee,” Seth’s sudden snigger surprised both Dean and Roman. Especially Roman, who froze in his seat and simply glared at him.

Dean ignored Roman and stood up, welcoming Seth with a hug. “How are you feeling?”

“All things considered alright, thanks,” he explained looking down at his now wrapped-up leg. He was leaning on a crutch, underlining how bad his condition really was. Despite the possible pain involved and an injury that would have taken Seth out, he didn’t seem to have any resentment. 

Roman, on the other hand, was still frozen and the more seconds passed, the more Dean thought he could feel him getting lost in his own demons. 

Seth costed him everything, after all. 

Not only he had decided to go out there and fight for Cody, quite literally shielding him from Roman’s wrath. But he did it in the only way he knew would take Roman’s attention off Cody for long enough to grant him the win, using the SHIELD attire wasn’t only theatrics, it was a tactic and it worked. 

“Are the celebrations still going?” Dean wondered quietly. There was a reason why they had decided to come hang out up there and it was to get Roman as far as possible from everyone welcoming Cody. 

Protecting Roman had become Dean’s only priority.

Seth nodded. “People are starting to leave though; we could be in the clear soon.”

“We?” Roman wondered coldly, breaking through their conversation. 

Both Seth and Dean looked back, only to find the big Samoan looking back into the middle of the stadium where the stripped rind still stood. 

“Yes, we.” Seth started, he seemed too tired to pick a fight and yet he was ready to confront Roman, fearlessly raising his chin. “You know why I was fighting with Cody, we talked about this countless of times. But hell, if I’m gonna turn my back on you again.” The three of them all looked like they went through enough shit to just hold a grudge anymore. “If you don’t like it, tough, that’s what you get,”

Dean rolled his eyes, hoping he wouldn’t find himself in the middle of another pointless fight. He wasn’t there to fight, after all. And he had no intention to get stuck in the middle between the two. 

Roman sealed his lips and simply released a sigh, emptying his large chest of any emotion. After a long pause, he finally leaned in and grabbed a can of beer passing it over to Seth. He didn’t look at him, but that was enough of a peace offering.

Both Seth and Dean sat back down, next to Roman and they all just looked down to the ring.

“Thank you, boys.” Roman said after some time, “I appreciate you being here.” He still wasn’t looking at them and fell into another long silence right after, but both Dean and Seth were just as grateful, both welcoming his words with soft smiles and nods. They got into that world together. They fought so many battles together. And now, it was time for the curtain to fall. But they were still together.

[copperboom82]

Something

Pairing: Dean Winchester x OFC (female)

Word Count: 3.9k

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

Title credit: Something by The Beatles

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

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

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

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

Katrina Black had never been a good sleeper.

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

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

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

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

“Not so much.” 

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

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

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

Kat.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Really, Dean, it was –“

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

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

“Yeah, because I’m fine.” 

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

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

“Pot, meet kettle.” 

Dean sighed but let her go. 

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

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

“I’m fine.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do what? Be honest?” 

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

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

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

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

“No.”

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

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

There was no pause that time. Dean nodded.

“I know.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, well maybe we should change that.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Isn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No? No what?”

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

“Just please don’t say you love me.” 

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

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

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

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