#i think cas IS good with kids but it's not quite in the way that's depicted in the show when he talks to that one little girl with Hannah

[angelsdean]

Mary is 28. The year is 2016. Her whole life has been stolen from her. Some cosmic being plucked her from Heaven, took her away from her home, her husband, her babies, and placed her in this strange new world.

Her babies are gone, replaced with strangers a foot taller than her and nearly a decade older. They call her mom in gruff voices. They are hunters, something she never wanted for them. She has to hold back tears just looking at them. She sees glimmers of herself in Dean. His hair has darkened since he was a little boy, but she sees herself in other parts. The shape of his face, his cheekbones, his smile. She sees herself in Sam too, though he feels stranger. She can't quite match her pudgy little baby to this man.

At night, she moves through the bunker like a ghost. Nothing feels quite real. She takes scissors to her hair, thinks a drastic change will make this all feel more real. Throws herself into hunting. The adrenaline helps. Her racing heart reminding her she's alive, alive, alive. This isn't a dream.

This isn't a dream.

She sobs into her pillow, as the reality of it hits once more. She will never see her babies again.

These strange men look at her like she's a wonder. She understands what they lost. Understands they never had a mother. She imagines she'd look at her babies the same way, if she could see them again.

But she doesn't know how interact with this Sam and this Dean. All she knows is rocking babies to sleep to the tune of "Hey, Jude" and cutting the crusts off PB&J's and warming up store-bought pies for her sweet little toddler. She feels like she's failing at something she never really felt she succeeded at in the first place. So she focuses on the one thing she was ever good at: hunting.

When the British Men of Letters approach her, she goes in with good intentions. She's doing this for her boys. It's the one thing she can do right, she thinks.

Except things go wrong. They always go wrong.

"Cas almost died," Dean says, a hard edge to his voice and his eyes swimming with emotion.

She feels terrible, tries to explain. "I'm doing this for you. I'm playing three decades of catch up here." She wants to say, I'm trying to fix things. If I can rid the world of monsters, if I can make it safe then you won't have to fight anymore. You can have normal lives. You can be free. But she doesn't know how to talk to them.

Mary watches Dean's expression cloud with his own grief. "And we're not? How do you think this has been for us? We're your sons, and you've been gone. Our whole lives, you've been gone," he says. And she understands. She's been gone. And her babies are gone. And it's all so unfair.

"You said that you needed time. No, you said you need space," Dean continues, and she can feel herself losing him. Them. Sam won't even look at her. "So we gave you your space. But you didn't need just space. No, you needed space from us."

He's not wrong. She told them when she left, how hard it was to be around them.

"That's not true," she lies. "Dean, I'm trying –"

"How 'bout for once, you just try to be a mom?" Dean cuts in, hurt, angry.

And it hits her harder than she expected. Because she wishes, wishes she could be a mom again. To her babies. But that's never going to happen. And if she's stuck here, then she needs to figure out some other way to be.

"I am your mother," she says, sternly, "but I am not 'just a mom.' And you are not a child." It's not fair. Part of her knows that's not what Dean was asking. Not how he meant it. She's the one wishing he were a child. Wishing she could be "just" a mom. But she can't be a mother to them. Not this Dean. Not this Sam.

Dean looks her in the eyes, his expression vacant, haunted, and says, "I never was." His lip trembles for just a moment before he regains his composure.

She was a hunter's kid once. She knows what it's like. There's little room for childhood innocence. But she also doesn't know. She had a stable home. She had two parents. She had no siblings to look after.

"So between us and them –" Dean continues, the question hanging in the chasm that has opened up between them.

"It's not like that." Can't you see I'm choosing you. This is the only way I know how to keep you safe.

"Yeah, Mary, it is." She hates how it doesn't exactly break her heart, hearing her name come from his mouth instead of "mom." It feels more normal. Because these are not her children. "You made your choice. So there's the door."

Dean walks out of the room without a second look. Sam rises from the table, averting his eyes. She understands this too. Struggling to look. To see.

But this isn't how she wanted things to go. She didn't mean to upset them. And she doesn't want to lose them completely. She just--needs more time. "Sam," she tries. Maybe it would be easier to get through to him. He never really knew her, has no memories of her.

But he tells her to go too.

And maybe part of her is glad for the easy out. This will give her more time. She just needs to focus on hunting. Save the world. Put her babies to rest. Then she can come back and they can...be a family. However that might look for them.

[kerryweaverlesbian]

Thinking about Cas roped into a little kids teaparty while they're investigating a case and being firmly told he's a princess and a plastic crown slapped onto his head and Dean checks in on him saying "hey you wanna come to [next investigation scene]?" And all the kids go noooooo bc they love Cas bc he's Weird and very serious and patient with them about their games which is very funny to them and he pays focused attention which almost always makes kids happy.

And Cas, very solemn, goes "I'm a princess now Dean, I need to oversee my kingdom's affairs". And it becomes a comedy C plot of Cas n the kids fantasy game getting really politically detailed and fucked up while the boys do all the investigation work. Maybe there's some cut-betweens of the kids fantasy violence of smashing dolls together and Sam n Dean getting thrown around.

[apocalypseornaw]

Stretch it Out

Dean Winchester x Reader

When you need help stretching it takes an interesting turn

Warnings: Cursing, NSFW things

One of the many empty rooms in the bunker had been turned into an exercise area of sorts. It'd started off as Sam's brain child for mornings he couldn't go for a run, he'd found a cheap enough treadmill and tossed it in the room. Next came the weight bench, the punching bags and eventually the mats that were used for a mixture from sparring to yoga. It had gotten turned into a pretty decent home gym.

You were alone in the room, Dean had gone on a store run and Sam was in the shower. After the last hunt you'd gotten slammed around pretty good, Cas had healed what he could but turns out even angel mojo couldn't help tight hips. You were trying your best to get them to pop because that was what you desperately needed.

You'd gotten into boxing with Donna and knew what stretches would help, the problem was you needed assistance with it and didn't want to have to drive to Sioux Falls just to get it. You could ask Sam for help but given the position the stretches would put you in, you felt weird asking your best friend to do so and the thought of asking Dean embarrassed you bad enough you'd rather go a few rounds with a rugaru then attempt it.

You finally gave up about the time you heard Dean's voice echo down the hall "Honey I'm home" you laughed as you slipped your feet into the slides you wore around the bunker and headed for the kitchen where he was unloading groceries "I'm assuming that honey I'm home was for me or else things are really weird between you and Sam"

He stopped mid putting milk in the fridge "Sweetheart" the tone of his voice made you crack up "I'm kidding Dean. I'm kidding" he put the milk in the fridge then turned to face you, eyeing your clothes "What's with the active wear?" You looked down at yourself because you were just wearing high-waisted leggings and an old t-shirt you'd cropped off a bit because it'd been way too long to use any of the weights or punching bag while wearing.

"I was stretching out. My hips still aren't feeling quite up to par" he nodded slowly "Did you get them popped or whatever you said they needed?" You shook your head "I can't get into the positions I need to by myself" "Sam couldn't help?" He asked as you grabbed a bag and started putting its contents away.

You shook your head but didn't further elaborate. The two of you had everything put away within a few minutes. You grabbed a bottle of water out of the fridge and started to walk out the kitchen when Dean stopped you "Hey, let me throw on some sweats and I'll help you stretch"

You knew your eyes widened at that because he chuckled "Oh don't think I can help with stuff like that? I'm only good for the punchy stuff?" You shook your head "No Dean it's not that.." he cut you off "Good. Meet me in the gym in five" "Ok" you finally replied knowing arguing was no use.

---------

About the time Dean walked out the kitchen Sam walked in with his hair still wet from the shower "I should throw this damn water at you for not being five minutes faster" Sam was not ignorant to your feelings for his older brother but had guarded your secret for a while. He grinned slightly "And why is that?"

You groaned "Dean's gonna help me stretch out my hips" in that moment Sam very much looked like he may just chew his bottom lip off in an attempt to not laugh in your face at your dismay. "Oh go ahead!" You finally said and he nearly doubled over "Does he know the positioning of those stretches?" You shook your head and that only made him laugh harder.

He finally regained his composure enough to check his watch "I'm gonna go into town to the farmers market. I'll get some of those apples you like and I'll be gone for a couple hours" "Why?" You questioned but he just patted your shoulder on the way by.

"SAMUEL?" You hollered behind him but only heard his laughter in return. Dean walked up behind you and nearly made you scream when he said "What was that about?" You looked over your shoulder at him and smiled slightly "He's going to the farmers market and refused to get me apples" "You know he will" he replied then tapped your hip "C'mon"

You stood across from Dean nervously chewing on your bottom lip. You both had warmed up enough already so you had no excuse but christ you were freaking out internally. "Ok sweetheart, where do we start?" He asked with a smile that caused your heart to jump "Um Ok. I'm gonna lay down on the mat and I need you to stand over me and I'll bend one knee then fold it over the hip on my opposite side I just need you to apply enough counter pressure"

He raised one eyebrow but nodded nonetheless "Well get into position and I'll do my job" you laid down flat on your back and swallowed hard looking up at him before bending your knee on the left side and tucking it over your right hip. He smirked slightly then leaned over "Just apply pressure until i say stop. I can handle it" he nodded "Oh I know"

---------

You tried that stretch on both hips hoping it would work because it was the position that gave the most room between you and Dean even if just from that position alone you were having to stare at the roof to not be staring into those green eyes that made you forget any and all thoughts. You finally rolled up into a seated position, Dean was sitting across from you on his knees "What now?"

You could feel your cheeks threaten to warm as you damn near stuttered "H-How much do you want to help me?" He watched you for a moment "I want to make sure you're not hurting. Now what do I need to do?" You nodded slowly "Im gonna lay back, I need you to kneel between my legs and put one of my legs on your shoulder then just push it down towards my shoulder applying even pressure until either it loosens up or I say stop"

He motioned towards the mat "Let's do it" good lord could he have picked a worse way to say it? You laid down and when he moved closer you felt your face begin to warm so you bit down on the inside of your cheek as a distraction In hopes it would get get your mind off the position at hand.

However nothing on earth could have distracted from from him gripping your hips firmly to pull you down the mat closer to him, spreading your legs slightly. A small gasp escaped you when your hips bumped into his then he turned just enough to gently grab your left leg and lift it onto his shoulder "Like this sweetheart?"

You knew your voice wouldn't work at the moment so you just nodded.

---------

There was a mantra going through Dean's head which consisted of three words....don't get hard. Damn why hadn't he just stayed in his jeans? That would've offered a thicker layer between your bodies but he hadn't realized how close the stretching required you to be besides the denim probably would've been uncomfortable to you considering you were just wearing thin leggings.

The first stretch hadn't been that bad but he noticed how you wouldn't meet his eyes while he was standing over you. Sam's words from a few days before when he'd been certain you were flirting with the bartender at some backwoods dive the three of you had stopped in ran through his head "Believe me Dean, she could give a damn less about that guy"

Then when you stuttered asking him to do this current position? Maybe he did have a chance. He had to stop a smirk from slipping onto his face when you gasped lightly from him pulling you closer and pulling your leg up on his shoulder. Not like he hadn't imagined you like this a thousand times before....of course then you weren't dressed or in the gym or just stretching.

When you finally looked up to meet his eyes he smiled "like this sweetheart?" And noticed just how wide your eyes were when you nodded.

----------

Your knee was nearly touching your shoulder when you felt the release in your hip and a moan that completely mortified you escaped your lips at the feeling. Dean froze dead in his tracks, your leg still on his shoulder and cut his eyes at you with one eyebrow raised "What was that?"

You covered your face with your hands "I am so sorry Dean. That just felt so damn good" he gently lowered your left leg and you expected him to walk out the room due to the awkwardness but instead he moved to the right side and lifted your leg onto his shoulder "Look at me and I'll see if i can get you to moan again from this side" he teased.

You slowly lowered your hands and he winked at you "Attagirl. We're both adults here no shame in something feeling good besides maybe it boosts my ego knowing you moaned like that and I was technically the cause of it...I mean I've heard some of your excuses for dates in the past..."

"Shut up Dean!" You laughed but he started to push your leg towards your shoulder and damn him he'd been paying attention to the last leg and knew just what angle to use because you quickly felt the release in that side and the fucking moan you let slip out was borderline pornagraphic.

----------

He spoke your name gently and you looked up at him. He was watching you carefully "You good?" You smiled "I'm great" you shifted your hips as much as you could considering one of them was still on his shoulder but froze when you felt something against your inner thigh "Um Dean?"

"Huh?" He asked then must have realized his body had reacted. "Oh fuck darling. I am so damn sorry" he put your leg down quickly and went to stand up but you grabbed his hand "Wait" he wouldn't meet your eyes "I'm sorry sweetheart. It's just you're a beautiful woman, the position we were in...." he groaned lightly before adding "and the noises you were making under me"

"Dean" you tried again and when he finally met your eyes you reached for his shoulders and pulled him into a kiss.

The kiss took Dean off guard. He'd expected you to be pissed at him, hell possibly swing but the shock quickly wore off as he shifted around to push your back down against the mat. You hooked one of your legs around his waist pulling him down with you. He groaned into the kiss when you rolled your hips up to meet his.

He broke away from the kiss to look at you. You were laying under him, eyes wide and pupils blown. Your chest was heaving just slightly and a smile was playing at your lips "Sweetheart what are we doing here?" You raised an eyebrow and glanced down at where your bodies were pressed against each other, thin layers of clothing the only thing separating you "I thought it was kind of clear Dean"

---------

He laughed lightly then leaned down again catching your lips with his once more. He felt your hands slip under his shirt, an unspoken request for more access to him. He pulled back just enough to slip the shirt over his head and throw it somewhere behind him. He smiled when he saw your hands go towards the hem of your shirt and covered them with his own. He glanced up at you for permission and you nodded so he slipped the shirt over your head and tossed it leaving you in just your leggings and sports bra.

"Come here" you whispered pulling him back down to you. He moved from your lips down to your neck biting and sucking the skin, enjoying what sounds he could pull from you. When he kissed down your chest he felt your breathing speed up as he nipped at your breast through the cloth still covering it. "Fuck Dean" you moaned and he could've came then and there from hearing his name come out of you like that. "Let me enjoy this" he teased before pulling the bra off of you.

--------

The moment your chest was completely bared to him Dean leaned down flicking one of your nipples into his mouth with his tongue while his hand worked the other. Your fingers dug into his shoulders, the pleasure you were feeling when he'd barely touched you was dizzying.

He moved from your chest, kissing down your stomach and stopping just shy of the top of your leggings. He glanced up at you through his long lashes and you felt a rush of heat go straight to your core "Can I?" You nodded, lifting your hips to help him get the leggings off.

"Damn baby you're already soaked" he cooed slipping one finger inside of you causing a light gasp to slip free of your lips. He smiled wickedly then added another finger, basking in the way you moaned his name "I wanna see what you look like when you come" he spoke curling his fingers inside of you until he found that spot that made your eyes roll back. When your back arched up off the mat he chuckled "There it is"

He crashed his lips against yours in a rough kiss while he worked you over that edge, feeling you tighten around his fingers. You could feel the tension building in your lower stomach and barely got out the words "Dean I'm gonna.." before it snapped pushing you over that edge and causing your vision to go soft around the edges.

"Soo damn sexy" he whispered moving back down your body. You'd barely had any time to recover before his head was moving between your legs, you felt the first tentative lick and moaned his name loudly which spurred his actions one.

The way his mouth felt on your body had every damn nerve ending on fire. You could feel that tension building again already. You'd never come this close together but the moment his lips locked around your clit sucking roughly you were pushed over that edge yet again. He stayed working you over until you pushed at his shoulders weakly "Too much. Too much"

-----------

He rocked back on his heels, wiping a thumb across his lower lip before sucking on it "Fuck you taste as good as you look" you smiled lazily "Normally I'd love to return the favor and I promise to next time but please will you take off your pants and fuck me?"

"Next time huh?" He asked as he pushed his pants down his hips along with his boxers then kicked them off. You'd always figured Dean was well endowed. Awkward moments with hotel showers had happened but damn he was big and thick. You licked your lips and he grinned running a hand across his cock "Like what ya see sweetheart?"

You rolled your eyes "Would like it better if it was inside me" He smirked "Well who am I to keep a lady waiting" he gripped your hips, snatching you closer to him much the way he had earlier. You could feel the head of his cock teasing your opening and could feel yourself clenching around air in anticipation "Are you sure?" He asked and you nearly whined in frustration "Please?"

He nodded as he pushed into you causing a moan to be pulled from you both once he was fully sheathed he held still to let you adjust to him. He caught your lips in a passionate kiss, tongue flicking against yours allowing you to taste yourself on him. Once the pain of the stretch faded to pressure you moved your hips against his to let him know he could move.

He started to roll his hips into yours causing your back to arch up off the mat with every movement "Fuck Dean, you feel so fucking good" you praised and that seemed to spur his movements. He changed his angle just slightly and when the head of his cock rubbed across that certain spot you could vaguely register your nails digging into his shoulders "Right there baby, please don't stop"

"Wasn't planning on it" he teased. It felt amazing but you knew you both needed a little more "You can fuck me harder Dean. I won't break" you moaned and he leaned his forehead over in the crook of your neck as his thrusts got somehow even deeper and harder. You could feel that tension building again and knew he could feel you clenching harder around him "Go ahead sweetheart. Come for me" He spoke into your skin, one hand slipping between you to rub tight circles onto your clit. You came for the third time with a scream of his name on your lips.

Once you came down from the high slightly you could feel his thrusts begin to falter. You turned your attention to him fully, kissing across his jaw and down his neck as you said "Let me feel you come Dean, please. Fill me up baby" his jaw clenched tightly at your words as his thrusts sped up chasing his own release.

He buried himself inside you with one final thrust and the feeling of him coming inside of you managed to push you over that edge for the fourth time.

He collapsed on top of you, supporting most of his body weight on your lower half so you could breath. "God damn sweetheart. I'm so fucking glad Sam didn't help you stretch" You popped his shoulder "Don't be an ass Dean"

After a moment of you both simply catching your breath he leaned up to be able to look at your face "On a serious note I don't want this to be a one time thing and not just this...I um want us to try to this I mean if you want" you laughed lightly causing him to groan considering he was still inside of you "Are you asking me to be your girlfriend after nearly fucking me stupid in the bunkers home gym?"

He nodded "Yeah?" You pulled him into a kiss before saying "On the condition that you help me make it to the shower before Sam gets back because my legs have no feeling in them after coming that much" you could see the moment the smug smirk began to pull at his face "Oh really?" You rolled your eyes and started to say something back but he chose then to pull out of you which caused another gasp to leave you.

"I can manage to help my girl shower" he added with a wink.

"How's your hips feel?" Dean asked after you both had showered and you were laying in his bed with his arms around you. You laughed "They feel absolutely amazing"

He leaned down to kiss you but right before your lips touched you heard Sam holler "IN THE GYM? REALLY. YOU TWO ARE ANIMALS!"

Dean smirked at you "Any complaints?" "None at all" you replied pulling him into you for the kiss.

[lght-roastcoffee]

⋆ ˚｡⋆ Never ⋆ ˚｡⋆

prompt: "I'm not leaving you."┆Tuna-Tober ⊹ Day 4

pairing: Sam Winchester x fem!Reader

wordcount: 1.1K

warnings: mentions of blood, spn-level violence, established relationship

author's note: First, I imagined season 4 Sam after it's revealed he's been drinking demon blood for this. Second, this is a day late. Unfortunately, I got a little sick yesterday and every time I sat down to work on this, I got a little dizzy. But it's out now! I'll just finish the challenge a day later than I had planned, but I am still planning on doing all 10 prompts I've set for myself.

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ 𝘯𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘨𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ 𝘵𝘶𝘯𝘢-𝘵𝘰𝘣𝘦𝘳 𝘱𝘳𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘵𝘴 ˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹

Sam’s screams penetrate the walls of Bobby’s house, setting everyone on edge. Tears gather in my eyes for what feels like the umpteenth time since Dean closed the bunker door behind him. He and Bobby sit up stairs, deciding on their next move while I sit in the basement on a worn out dining chair. 

After everything that happened with Castiel and Jimmy Novak, no one expected a darker secret to linger. But when I turned from the demon who had vomited its black smoke from its vessel to see Sam-my Sam-with blood smeared across his mouth, everything around me vanished. The look in his eyes after everything calmed down and Sam met my eyes was haunting. The anger residing in his hazel eyes was a stark difference to the gentleness I usually saw, and it scared me.

Dean snuck away as Sam and I cleaned up the mess and the bodies, making sure all evidence had been scrubbed clean from the scene. The silence between us is unusual. Usually, we’d laugh and joke, despite the morbid circumstances. But after the look in his eyes, I don’t know what to think anymore. 

I knew that after Dean’s death, things weren’t quite the same. Sam took off, leaving me at Bobby’s, and never answered my calls. I knew he was still hunting, and doing a great job, from what I heard. So I stayed with Bobby as I helped him around the junkyard and assisted with some hunts now and then. So when Dean came stumbling across the threshold, very much alive, all I could think about was Sam and if he did something to bring him back. 

Dean and Bobby went off to find him while I stayed back, not quite ready to face him after he up and left. And after Dean confronted the angel who raised him from Hell and we learned of the impending apocalypse, I could tell Sam wasn’t the same man anymore. But who would be, after his brother, the person who raised him, died gruesomely right in front of him?

So I kept myself occupied, helping Bobby in his research on the seals and trying not to get too close to Sam. But he wormed his way back in, apologizing for leaving like he did and for holding back the truth of his escapades during that time. He promised he wouldn’t use his abilities anymore and that was that. 

Sam started trying to get back in my good graces. He started by arriving with coffee any time he saw me, then I’d notice new books stacked on the nightstand of my room in Bobby’s house, until he started inviting me out on more and more hunts with Dean, and I’d join. It all came to a head after a close call with a werewolf we were tracking and I laid in his arms, bleeding out and confessing, before Cas showed up and healed me, thanks to Dean’s prayers. We were good again, but I could tell that something was still eating at him. Well, I guess I know why now. 

“You okay, kid?”

I look up, feeling the tears falling freely against my cheeks as Dean stops in front of me. He sets a glass of water next to me on a rickety table. 

“Is this really necessary?” I managed to say. “Does he really need to be locked up like some- some animal?”

Over the course of the days we’ve kept Sam locked up, my anger has slowly been gathering. Whether it’s directed towards me, for not doing more to help the man screaming and pleading for help, or towards Dean and Bobby who were so prepared with trapping Sam and leading me away before I could ruin anything. But they’ve kept them in there, listening to his unnatural torture and continuing on like it’s nothing, no food or water because there’s a high chance he’ll get out is we open the door. This “detox” is destroying Sam and it seems I’m the only one who can see it. 

Dean sighs, pats me on the shoulder, and makes his way back upstairs. I sit there, the sounds of Sam’s cries lulling me into a restless sleep after not doing so for days. I only wake to the sound of rushed and heavy footsteps coming down the stairs. I see Bobby, then Dean, their faces a mix of worry and horror as they rush to the bunker door. That’s when I recognize the deafening silence. 

I rush over with them, Dean throwing the heavy iron door open and I see Sam on the ground seizing. I rush to his side, going to kneel down to keep him stable. Before I could do so, however, his body rose into the air and started slamming against the iron walls. I realize I’m screaming as Dean and Bobby push past me to get to Sam and restrain him to the cot. After everything settled down, Dean tried to drag me out of the room, but after landing a hard punch to his face and a knee to his groin, they gave me some space. Dean sat outside the door, listening for any trouble after getting some ice. 

I sat at Sam’s side, combing my fingers through his hair and humming softly. After a while, he groans, trying to reach up with his hand, but the handcuffs stop him. I sigh, tears forming once again at the torture the man I love is going through. He tries again and jerks awake frantically scanning his surroundings.

“Hey, Hey!” I push against his chest, hoping to calm him down even just a little bit.

“Y/N?” Sam relaxes slightly, confusion swimming across his features. “What happened?”

“You gave us a scare,” I answer, reaching up to smooth his bangs out of his face. “You started flying across the room. Bobby and Dean saw no choice but to restrain you.”

He lays his head back, eyes squeezing shut. “I’m sorry.”

I shake my head before cupping his face, hazel eyes opening to stare back at me in anguish, giving him a slight smile in return. “Hey, I- I understand, Sam. Just don’t do that again, okay?” 

“I- I don’t know if I can stop myself.” Tears form at his lash line, threatening to spill over. “I don’t know if I can stop myself from being the monster everyone thinks I am.”

“We’ll figure something out,” I say softly. “Just like we always do, right?”

The look he gives me, all watery and intense, makes me realize he’s terrified of my reaction. 

“You won’t leave me?” He whispers, voice shaking. I lean over him, face hovering over him. 

“I’m not leaving you,” I whisper. “Not ever.”

I press a soft kiss to his lips, tasting the salt from our joined tears. I pull away before resting my forehead against his.

“Never.”

[applecidersturniolo]

just for the night.

chris sturniolo x reader

𓇢𓆸 | backstory: chris and y/n have been broken up for about a year, yet, they can’t seem to stay away from each other for the little moments, like needing a ride home from a stupid fuckin’ party. but this time, chris couldn’t handle just a ride home. |

y/n couldn’t ignore him, it was almost nearly fucking impossible. once she would finally get over him, there she was, right back with him.

tonight was no different, chris had one too many drinks at a party and of course needed a ride back home. but he didn’t call matt, didn’t want an uber, didn’t want to call a damn taxi, no, he wanted her.

“y/n..y/n are you there?” chris hiccuped

y/n sighed and ran her hand through her hair, “yeah, un-fucking-fortunately” y/n scoffed, “what’s wrong?”

chris’ head was spinning, he leaned up against the hallway wall, “come..come get me. please, y/n” chris whined

y/n wanted to be mean, she wanted to hang up the phone, make him walk, make him call someone else, make him do anything else.

yet here she was, laying back in her seat as she drove to pick up the blue eyed boy.

exes don’t do this, they don’t just call each other when they need a ride home, his finger didn’t accidentally click her contact, no.

y/n pulled into the driveway and saw chris sitting on the steps on the house, head in his hands, kid looked like he just got done puking his guts out in the bushes, “fucking christ” y/n mumbled under her breath.

she turned off her lights and put the car in park, walking out of her car and kneeled down to his level, “hey, hey, i’m here” she reassured as she helped him to his feet, she wrapped his arm around her shoulder.

chris let out a chuckled and leaned his head up to look at the sky. “you um..uh..you actually fucking came” chris slurred

y/n let out a sigh and opened the passenger seat door and helped him in, she bent over his lap to buckle him in, she could practically feel his eyes burning into her. chris mumbled something under his breath that y/n couldn’t quite catch, she just brushed it off and made her way to the drivers seat, starting the car back up again and began to drive.

the car ride was silent, for the most part.

besides when chris would slam his hand on the door, signaling her to pull over so he could puke his brain out. y/n huffed and rubbed his back, “kid, you fucking reek” she spoke shaking her head

chris rolled his eyes and wiped his mouth and leaned back in the seat, “can..can we..” chris huffed, “can we just sit here..” chris managed to get out

y/n nodded, “yeah..probably for the best” she hummed while putting the car back in park, she turned on her hazards since they were on the side of the road.

the tension was thick, they both wanted to say something, say anything.

“i’m sorry” chris croaked out.

y/n furrowed her eyebrows and glanced over at him, “chris you don’t ha-“ “are you kidding?” chris slurred, “i ruined this, i ruined us”

y/n felt a pit in her stomach, a dark, eaten away, pit. she let out a shaky breath and spoke up,

“chris..please i don’t wanna talk about this right now, not while you’re this dru-“

“i can’t stop thinking about you, y/n” chris spoke gently, “i can’t.. you’re in everything i do, in everything i see, you literally take up my whole fucking mind. i’ve tried to get with other girls, believe me, but they don’t compare to you. when i’m with them all i can think about is you.” chris spoke turning his body to face y/n.

y/n listened to his words as he continued to speak, “i’ve missed you.” chris muttered, “ca-can you please look at me.” chris sniffled.

fuck is he crying?

y/n looked up at chris, he lifted up a shaky hand and held her jaw, drunken tears spilled down his face, “can..can we just pretend? chris slurred out, “just for the night..we can pretend that we are still together?”

y/n licked her lips, god, she wanted to say no, she knew it wasn’t a good idea, that maybe in another life they could’ve worked out but definitely not this one.

but the way he sat there, the way his head leaned against the headrest, his beanie pulling back any hair that hung in his face, so his perfect soft face was on display, the gentle shadow of his stubble creating a goatee, the tears in his eyes, the way his teeth collided with his bottom lip as he waiting for an answer, a hopeful answer.

she couldn’t say no to him, how could she?

“yeah.. yeah.. just for the night.”

: shay speaks!!

💌: hope you enjoyed this little fic! part 2 will be out shortly! inbox me if you have any ideas of what you wanna see in part 2, LOVE YOU CUTIES 🐇

[marauders-bs]

THIS IS AN ANGSTY SKITTLES FIC BE WARNED

tw: talk of blood, lots of cursing, talks of violence (nothing is graphic, like, at all, tho)

"Do you think we're all villains in someone's story?"

Dorcas looked up. It was a completely out of the blue question from Evan, but it made sense for him to ask it with the accident over break.

"Someone else's story?" Dorcas said, laughing a bit and nudging him with her shoulder. "Ev, we're the villains in ours."

-

Barty was staring at his hands. Evan could practically see the horror in his eyes at what he had done.

"Why did I do that?" he asked, voice breaking a bit as though he could still see blood on his hands.

"Did you have a choice?" Evan asked, grabbing Barty's chin to make him look away from his hands. "You're not a violent person. That was the bravest goddamn thing I've ever seen you do, Bat."

Tears were on Barty's eyelashes, not quite on his cheeks yet. "But I did it."

Evan leaned his forehead against his boyfriend's. "So did I."

-

"He's a baby," Pandora said. "He's a fucking baby, Bat. A little kid. He doesn't know anything."

"It's not your fault," Barty said. "The parents we were born to aren't our fucking fault, Dora. You can't save everyone, and I love you for trying, but you can't fucking save everyone, Dora. Some people are going to die, and that's going to happen."

"He's my brother" was all Pandora said.

"You still have Evan."

-

Regulus cradled his left arm in his right. Tear tracks stained his face and his clothes, eyes bright red from crying.

"Reg," Pandora said, wrapping him into her arms. "What happened?I thought you were with James."

"I was," Regulus replied voice strained and choked. "It turns out he's just like my brother."

"What happened?" Pandora asked, knowing the anger she felt towards whatever the fuck James Potter had done to her Reg had seeped into her voice. "What the fuck did he do to you? I'll fucking kill him."

"It's me, not him," Regulus said, pulling his left sleeve up.

Pandora's breath caught in her throat.

-

"Why aren't you in Gryffindor tower, Cas?" Regulus asked, lounging in a seemingly nonchalant way he knew Dorcas could see right through.

"Off again," Dorcas muttered.

Regulus snorted. "Does she at least have as good or better a reason than Potter?"

"Potter?" Dorcas asked. "What the fuck happened to James?"

Regulus raised an eyebrow, knowing when she was deflecting.

"No reason at all," Dorcas muttered. "I don't even know what's going on in her mind anymore."

"Yeah," Regulus murmured, passing her a cigarette. "You're not the only one there."

[shallowseeker]

In 12x16, Sam is a bull in a China shop when it comes to mentoring/parenting/caretaking

Safety vs autonomy: the core Sam dilemma

He obviously cares for Claire, but boy does he ever struggle to connect with her. He tries to do the checklist of things you do for people you care about: he asks about her wellbeing, then insists she has a hot meal! It's cute!

But...

When Sam immediately starts pressuring Claire to call Jody, he's forgetting that he's probably overstepping. He's not seen her in a while, after all! He's being classic-Sam-Winchester-pushy.

He doesn't butter her up or give them time to warm up to each other, just starts giving her the stink eye right out of the gate. In short, Sam has no finesse.

Just look at that stink eye: =____=

///

Look at Sam in the next scene, when he's finally one-on-one with Claire.

He's still pushing.

Even when he asks about if things are good, he's passive-aggressive about it. (This is very different than the straightforward approach that Cas and Dean take with Claire, as well as what we see from Jody.)

SAM: So (overdramatic sigh, a sigh full to the brim with assumptions) really? Things are good?

The way he says really. It's sooooo annoying, God bless you, Sammy.

Look. At. His. Face.

No wonder she called him an old skeezer right after this.

///

Ahem. Anyway. Once of Sam's core values is independence, and in the past when he's interacted with Claire, he's embodied that, teaching her to hack credit cards, and nagging her a little bit about using hunting to run away.

Here, he's flipping quite suddenly to true parent!mode, and Claire is not reacting well at all to his sudden change OR his style.

The pushy!Sam mode isn't working for Claire, the same way the overcaring faux!therapist mode won't work for Jack in Tombstone.

///

Claire is kidding around with him because she's uncomfortable. She's trying to lighten the mood.

Funnily enough, I think Sam's actually losing patience/offended here!

When it comes to have patience/affinity for younger people, I don't think it comes naturally to him. That's why he reads the self-help books and books like The Drama of the Gifted Child.

It's why it often sounds so careful, so practiced, which sets him up for disaster when his very real natural impatience comes out.

///

In the moment, she needs validation. It's like the song she'll listen to: "I'll never be good enough, you make me wanna die." She needs to feel respected by Sam. She doesn't feel like Sam's frank with her, and she wants to prove herself so he'll respect her.

Then, Sam, poor Sam. Comes in with this sledgehammer:

See, for one of the first times ever, Sam prioritized SAFETY over AUTONOMY.

When Claire didn't tell him the truth right away, he went behind her back and called Jody to find out how exactly what Claire was lying about...

BUT he didn't "tell." He tried to have the best of both worlds.

Sam still wants to be Claire's friend. The guy in her corner. (Cas already reckoned with this way back in season 10. That was his whole conversation with the therapist: "She doesn't need a friend." etc etc. Dean naturally sets boundaries, sometimes his boundaries are too rigid, sure, but it comes more naturally all the same.)

///

Claire then complains about being at the proverbial "kids' table," whenever they hunt, that Claire stays in the car while Jody does everything. (Sam felt this way about John and Dean! And as far as the kids' table goes, he still struggles with that feeling.)

And boy do I love this moment:

Claire's insecurities are manifesting the same way past Sam's did: she's putting words in other people's mouths. Her own insecurities are being shunted and reflected onto other people! Sam does this so, so, so often with Dean, especially in the vintage seasons. (It's part of growing up.)

But anyway back to Sam versus safety!

And Claire explodes, kindly tells him to fuck off. There is no trust here; she and Sam do not have an established parent-child relationship, so his insistence for her to tell the truth...CHAFES.

And then BOOOM. And that's why this episode will always be beautiful to me.

Sam never thought he'd be on the other side of this issue, prioritizing a younger family member's safety over their independence and getting frustrated when they don't see things his way.

She's so hurt that she runs away. And he doesn't follow her.

Clearly, Sam hates this feeling with Claire. It paralyzes him so much that they separate and she gets hurt. Bitten. DOOMED. On his watch. All his care and worrying weren't enough. He wound up pushing her away, upsetting her, and making her less safe in the end.

In later seasons, we can assume being a parent-parent chafes for him, causing him to reckon with his safety-versus-autonomy values in a fresh, uncomfortable way. He mostly flips back to a by-the-book, mentor-style parenting/caretaker relationship with AU hunters, Jack, etc.

But this moment with Claire is chef's kiss...and to me why Sam's arc doesn't feel done at the end of season 15. This struggle right here is the path for Sam finally understanding why his family often behaved as they did! If there ever were a sequel, I think this would have to be the through line. (Also, please give Sam a Sam-John-coded kid that will drive him crazy. Pretty, pretty please!)

///

Fun aside//

We see that Claire tames her emotionality with music, something Dean and Jack do as well.

///

[padfootscoldleathers]

i'll leave (a light on) ch.5

ch.1, ch.2, ch.3, ch.4, ch.5

"Please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, please, pleeeease, Mary! Please! Come on!"

Marlene's on her knees on the stage floor at soundcheck. The band has just finished, but Mary hasn't gone on yet and Marls is now clutching her legs begging, begging, BEGGING to hear the song she and Sirius are going to perform tomorrow night.

"I already told you – you'll hear it on stage tomorrow night."

Marlene's body falls along Mary's legs which almost makes her fall over. "But that's so far away." She pouts up at her and has her hands on Mary's ankles now. Well, one ankle and a hunk of metal, but who really cares.

Mary smooths Marlene's hair over her head. "You'll survive."

"But what if I die? This is grand tier homophobia." She groans on her way down Mary’s legs to sprawl out on the stage floor.

"Okay," she whispers. "Hey, Cas! Littering ain't cool. Come get your kid– ACK!" Mary lands with a thump on the floor and glares death at a cackling Marlene who's squirming like a crab flipped on its back. When Mary moves to get to her feet Marls immediately lets loose a string of curses as she scrambles off the stage. She jumps off the side stage and scrapes her elbow.

"So aggressive. Save it for sex."

"I know where you sleep, McKinnon.”

"Good. It's a no-clothes zone, by the way." She shrugs, walking backwards and throws a piece of gum in her mouth. "Just a reminder." She stalks off backstage to Dorcas and Peter with a pop of her bubblegum.

When Mary turns to look out at the stands from the center stage she senses Sirius coming up behind her, even though she can't hear his footsteps. She knows why.

"What are you doing? I can see you in my side mirrors, stop creeping up on me."

Sirius walks up until they're side by side and squints incredulously at her. His eyebrows are as high as they can go and his eyelids are straining to stay close enough to call it a squint. "Your side mirrors?"

"I'm bilingual, okay? I forget words sometimes. You know what I mean. The corner of my eye. Stop squinting at me like that. You look like a newborn.

"One, rude. Two, your peripheral vision?"

"Tomato, tomato; they're synonyms in this context."

"Peripheral does not equate to a side mirror?"

"The way I see it, as long as you understand what I'm saying—it's a win. I have no respect for grammar."

"We'll circle back to this."

"No, we won't."

"It's because I'm a goldfish, isn't it?"

Mary swings her arm around his shoulder and he wraps his arm around her. "Yeah, your memory ain't all that hot, dushi. We still love you."

"Yeah, whatever. I love you too."

They stand there for a long time staring at the empty stadium. So this is the big leagues, she thinks. There was something about all this empty space and the way it amplified her insignificance; it was refreshing.

The rain made a mirror of the stage floor and showed her someone she hadn't seen in so long, but still recognised. The version of herself that was brave.

Mary could tell it was reaching for her. The vines were slowly winding their way up her legs, soon her torso, then her mind. It was undeniable in the way it lingers; the mourning to be someone you love. Again or for the very first time. It's a vague emotion until it's not and she could feel it. Her melancholia is growing, it never dies. 

"Mavis."

"Yeah. Sorry." She pulled her eyes from the stage all across the stands and then to Sirius. All her excitement seeps from her pores and her breath comes out shaky with all of her nerves. And with it, a real smile, something that hadn't felt like it in so long.

"This is going to be the time of my life." Sirius matches her with all the enthusiasm he has left, which is, quite frankly, running on E, but he'll always have a smile for her.

“Scared?”

“Oh, terrified. In a good way. I feel like this marks the beginning of what’s going to be the happiest memories of my life.”

"Well, in that case, may it never end. July 25th, a day to remember." Sirius hands her a mic and turns to signal their audio guy.

The opening chords start playing and the tambourine might just be it. The beginning of something; something brave.

★

The car ride to lunch is an actual disaster. They end up stopping at a Krispy Kreme for donuts because it's taking so long to decide where to go. Mister Kingsley Shacklebolt in particular has, frankly, had it from here to hell with them. Marlene and Sirius are talking over each other and can’t even agree between Mexican and Thai. It all stops though, when Kingsley comes to a hard brake and sends the two of them crashing forward into the seats in front of them.

"We know you can drive better than this." Marlene says, rubbing her cheek.

"Should learn to strap in outside of the bedroom." He takes the keys out of the ignition then jumps out and goes around the front to the other side to open the door for Minnie. Then the door in the middle for Dorcas, Mary and Peter and shut it leaving Sirius and Marlene in the backseat with nothing but a box of Krispy Kreme with a lonely donut.

"Did he just…?"

"This is a thousand percent on brand for him, Sirius, don't be surprised."

She holds the door open for him as he shimmies out of the van with a donut and an empty box, before Marlene grabs and crushes it.

"Really?"

She shrugs and throws it in some random trashcan on the sidewalk. "What is this place anyway?"

"I couldn't care less as long as they have something sizzling on a plate."

"I just hope it's not Indian again."

"Why are you such a hater? Why do you have the palette of a baby, an allergy to anything exercise and the immune system of a sickly Victorian child? And yet have the audacity to look like a jock?"

Sirius opens the door and holds it open with his back to face Marlene. "Survival of the fittest, Sirius. Girls don't really care if you're a picky eater when you're this hot."

"Survival of the fittest?"

She puts a condescending hand on his shoulder, looks him up and down, shakes her head then sighs out a ‘you’re hopeless.’

Sirius pulls his head back in offense then starts fake coughing all over her when she walks past him. Marlene's skeleton and all vital organs abandon her as her fleshbag body runs through the restaurant with Sirius hot on her heels.

"Don't! I actually do have an immune system worse than a preemie NICU baby!"

Minnie solidifies out of thin air and grabs them both by the ears before a worker comes to kick them out.

"Sit."

Marls and Sirius drop into the booth next to each other rigid as a stoner next to a drug dog. Seriousness all but nonexistent by half a strawberry glazed donut dangling desperately from his mouth.

"Sirius, what are you guys doing?" Peter asks with a high eyebrow.

"Wuht?" He bites into the donut and catches the rest of it before it makes a sticky pink mess all over his jeans.

"Can't you two read a sign?"

That's when Marlene and Sirius turn over their shoulders – and butt each other's head on the way there – to look at the coloured signs basically lining the door frame. Eyes specifically snagging on a sign with a dog silhouette with a bright red block sign over it.

Sirius slowly turns his head back to Peter. Then he sees Minnie with a hard smile trying not to laugh. "Don't be racist." That's when the Italian waiter decides to show up at their table with the heaviest accent ever to ask if they have a problem. Peter and Mary squint at Dorcas utterly confused and she's supposed to translate for her two baby idiots.

"He means dogs are also a race." They blink at each other understanding but still gobsmacked at how stupid it sounds.

"Your sign is racist." Marls tells the waiter as he asks for their order. Sirius hisses and jumps to cover her mouth while they all stare between Marls n Marco wide-eyed. All except Dorcas of course. Who has had to live with this for years.

"Pardon?"

Cue heaven sent Dorcas Meadowes to the rescue. She and Minnie distract and order. Almost everyone moves around and under the booth to get to who they want to sit next to. Sirius ends up next to Mary which he later realises will be a big mistake because she asks if he wants to see a magic trick. Of course, he says yes. What else is there to say? It's Mary.

She pulls out a water bottle from her purse and pours it into an empty glass on the table. Then she takes her glass and pours the water into his. When she's done she moves her hand around the cup like it's going to make magic happen. Next thing he knows – he's drenched. Water splashed all over his face and soaked in the front of his shirt.

"Refreshing."

"That's going on the band's main insta account." Peter snickers already typing up a caption for their insta story.

Sirius' eyebrows shoot all the way up and he strains to keep his eyes near closed and blinks to make that funny face of 'what.’ 

"Excuse me?"

Then Sirius' phone pings and he's tagged in the story of his own personal Percy Jackson showdown that he embarassingly, predictably, lost. With '#stayhydrated' after his username.

Sirius, then and there, pulls up one of his many many pictures of Pete sleeping in various acrobat level positions. Specifically that time he fell asleep in what was basically a king cobra pose, his foot caught in the cushions of the couch in the studio. He retaliates as is his birthright. In his following of this existential purpose, naturally, he posts it. Drool and all. And he tags Petey. Obviously.

Peter's lips purse like a squished sponge but he's already come to terms with the fact that there are tons of pictures of him like this on the internet and this won't be the last.

"Well played."

"Thank you."

Lots of jokes, munch, munch, yum, yum, if you don't know how to make Italian food it's borderline tasteless, blah, blah, blah. They had fun.

They're leaving when Sirius, still munching on garlic bread, asks if they weren't supposed to catch a movie.

"Yeah, but are you grandmas still up for that?"

Marlene rubs her stomach like there's something in there. "I'm still nursing a food baby but if you want to, Minnie, we'll go with you."

"Well the movie's at 8. So," she checks her pocket watch, "an hour and a half. What do you want to do in the meantime?" Minnie fiddles with the keys through her thin fingers. Mary snatches them and dashes to the car.

"Thank you." She points the keys at Peter while holding the passenger door open for Minnie."Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Petey's eyes light up and he runs to grab the keys from Mary and slide over the hood. "I'm driving!"

Mary looks at the pregnant food fetus carriers with her eyebrow cocked like a shotgun. "Get in or get an uber." Car doors slam with just Minnie, Peter and Mary in the jeep. Sirius trails after the girls to the car like he has nowhere to be. That's until the car starts reversing to drive off. Then it does. Slowly. Tauntingly. The back window over the tailgate opens and the jeep starts to pick up a bit.

Dorcas and Marlene sprint and launch themselves over the backdoor. Sirius almost doesn’t make it past the corner but does end up grabbing the support at the back end and swinging himself inside. He drops his head on the bed of the wrangler with a thump. Marlene's monologuing, on insta live with Mary's phone. "That, my dear friends, is what 5 years of jockdom looks like. Former athlete in the flesh. Emphasis on ‘former.’" Sirius glares at her through panted breaths, grabs the phone and flips the camera.

"You act as if I didn't hear you wheezing like you were choking up a hairball after Dori had to throw you into the jeep." He flips the camera back to his face with a low blush, "That's what 4 years of vicarious jockdom looks like." Mary leans over the backseat and scrambles his hair as a distraction to grab the phone from his clawing fingers. "Where are we going anyway?" He leans his head against the tailgate.

"The arcade."

"What about the movie?"

"Same place." Mary and Pete say in unison. It happens a lot. Childhood best friends and all that. They're also highschool friends with Alice and… that roommate they live with, who Sirius has never seen somehow.

"Pardon?"

"You little freshwater fish. Welcome to America. The arcades are in the cinema." Peter cranks up the radio and it's ‘paradise calling’ by Birdy.

They get there maybe half an hour later so they definitely killed some time. Between getting tickets and trying to figure out the arcade, then realising that you can’t just use money. You need a buy a card for the arcade and put money on it. When did everything get so complicated? They play, stand in line for popcorn and then drag Sirius and Marlene away from Dance Dance Evolution so they don't all miss the movie. There was never a dull moment.

The commercials finish rolling and then the movie kicks on. It feels really creepy at first with just a couple girls playing with dolls.

The movie ends and the lot of them are walking hand in hand out the cinema. Tears streaming down their faces and red noses. Dorcas is the first one to say anything since the credits rolled. She tilts her head almost totally confused like she almost can’t remember what happened only that she’s crying.

"What the fuck?"

i feel like the movie was pretty obvious and i know they would all cry. marlene specifically. last update for the next three weeks cause exams and my life is not my own, alas BUT next chapter IS the wolfstar finally meet so yay

@moonyswarmsweaters @sspadfoot @thingthatoncewastruee @probs-reading @cheekyboybeth

@starving-marauder-lover @yourlocalbadgerscales @taleofapart-timepoet @mirrs-ball @tea-blankets-andstars

@where-is-vivian @amberlink @wastingawayinmyroom @ashes-to-ashesxx @percabeth-trash

@equippedtolove @moon-girl88 @jamespotterbbg @drunktayloratthevmas @labyrinthhofmymind

@s0ggyguts @nyx-taylors-version @will-vs-the-homo-sapiens-adgenda @siriusly-insane

[zepskies]

If You Want It To Be - Part 2

Pairing: Dean Winchester x F. Reader

Summary: When your car breaks down after a hunt, Sam and Dean tow you back to the bunker for Christmas. This time of year gives you and Dean a little courage to be honest about what you both want. And what you want, is for him to see you. (18+)

AN: Here’s Part 2! This fic is an entry for @deanwinchesterswitch's TGWRC: Christmas in July event. 🩵❄️

Themes: Mistletoe (a classic), eggnog, Christmas dinner

Word Count: 5,700 Tags/Warnings: 18+ only! Smut central, tiny bit of angst, fluff and feels. ❤️💚

Part 2: Christmas Eve

Before you start on the Christmas cookies, you pull Castiel aside.

“Here’s the mission,” you tell the angel. “I know the guys don’t do Christmas all that often, so I want to surprise them with a nice dinner tomorrow. Think you can get this list of stuff for me? I think my addled brain forgot we needed real food too.”

Castiel looks over the scrap of notebook paper you give him with a critical eye.

“Uh, yes. This seems straightforward enough…what about pie?” he asks.

You raise a brow at him. “What about pie?”

“Dean likes pie.”

“I understand, but Christmas is for cookies. Not pies.”

“I think Dean would beg to differ,” Cas points out.

“Fine, get the man his pie,” you relent with a sigh. “Get pecan. He likes pecan, and that’s still somewhat Christmasy.”

“He likes apple better,” Cas mutters, but he still takes up your list and heads out to do your bidding.

Now with most of the bunker, namely the kitchen, all to yourself, you put on some festive music on your phone before you start to lay out all your ingredients on the counter.

Not many people know about your hobby, but you think you’ve seen enough baking shows to be proficient with some flour and egg.

You decide to begin with good old-fashioned sugar cookies that you’ll try your best to decorate later. But first, you start measuring out ingredients.

You sing along with Eartha Kitt’s “Santa Baby,” not knowing that you have an audience.

Dean spots you on his way back in from the garage. He was aiming to grab a drink of water from the fridge. He finds you instead, bopping around the kitchen. He hears you humming breathily to the music, watches you swaying your hips to her sultry notes. And he smirks. 

He steps up behind you and leans in close to your ear to ask, “What’cha making?”

You jump with a loud yelp, flinging up flour with your wooden spoon. Hearing Dean’s laughter, you whip around and give him a playful glare before swatting at him with the spoon.

“Hey!” he protests when you mark his shirt (more than once) with flour. You smirk and continue your task of mixing the dough.

Serves you right, troublemaker, you think. He comes up behind you to inspect your work.

“Cake?” he asks.

“Cookies, remember?” you tell him. “Want to help me?”

“You seem to be doing just fine.” He raises a brow as you take chunks of dough, roll them evenly in your hands, and place them on the tray. You’re making quick work of it too.

“Matter of fact, you look like a pro,” he adds.

You flash him a smile tinged with nostalgia.

“Yeah, well, my mom and I used to do this together every year when I was a kid. Snickerdoodles, oatmeal raisin, chocolate chip, oatmeal chocolate chip—”

“I think I get the picture,” Dean says with a growing smile. You return it, but your expression starts to fade the longer you think of her. 

Dean catches the shift; he knows your mom passed just a few years ago, losing her battle with lung cancer. He and Sam attended the funeral.

Dean understands. He just lost his own mother a few months ago—again. Another reason he can’t quite be Mr. Nice Guy with Jack. At least, not how they used to be. He knows it wasn’t the kid’s fault. Logically, Dean knows this. The nephilim didn’t have his soul.

In Dean’s heart though, his mom is still gone from this world. She got cheated out of her second chance at life. And deep down, selfishly, Dean feels cheated too.

It’s a reminder that gets stuck in his throat. But it dislodges another memory, one he feels comfortable enough with you to share, in the privacy of a quiet kitchen.

“I think I remember helping my mom bake something once, when I was a kid,” Dean admits. Though he clears his throat when your gaze turns to him in interest.

“Think it was chocolate chip cookies…well, whatever, they were hard as a rock,” he says, smiling at the memory. “So we went to the store and bought some from the bakery instead.”

You watch how his face softens, in the way it does whenever he talks about his mother. You smile just as softly.

“Aw, little Dean,” you say, because you can imagine it so clearly. Maybe he’s four or five, working dough between his small hands. And beautiful Mary, smiling beside him, encouraging him.

Dean’s eyes meet yours, uncomfortable with the gentle way you’re looking at him. So he clears his throat and goes into the fridge. He pulls out the eggnog and finds the rum you bought last night, specifically for what he’s about to do.

“Ooh, good idea,” you say as he fixes both of you a glass. Though you balk at his heavy pour of rum. “Geez, trying to get me drunk before noon?”

He grins at you. “Morning, night, and day are the only times to be drunk.”

You snort in response.

“Is that all?” you remark, and you wipe your hands of the wet dough (and most of the flour) before you take the glass he offers. You clink your glass with his and take a sip, even though you choke on it soon after.

“Jesus Christ, Dean,” you cough. He had to have poured half the bottle of Bacardi Superior in there.

Dean sucks between his teeth. “Yep, that is bracing.”

He glances over at you and smiles, raising a finger at the corner of your mouth.

“You’ve got some there,” he points out. You touch your chin, trying to feel for anything on your face.

“Where?”

“On your mustache, there.”

“I don’t have a mustache!” you say indignantly. You know this for a fact, as you spent a fair amount of time waxing and shaving yourself last night.

…Not that you had any particular reason to (or anyone to wax for), you just noticed that you needed some grooming. That’s all.   

Dean’s grin edges into a teasing smirk. “Don’t worry, it’s cute. Less Duck Dynasty and more Steve Harvey, Family Feud guy.”

You splutter laughing and hit his chest with the back of your hand.

“You’re such an ass.”

He chuckles and wipes the bit of eggnog from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. It makes your cheeks flare with a warm blush.

“Well, I uh, should get these into the fridge to chill,” you say. You grab the tray of rolled up cookie dough and head for the fridge, but maybe you’re more frazzled than you realize.

You accidentally knock into Dean’s elbow, making him spill half his drink down the front of his shirt.

You gasp, eyes flying wide, while he looks down at the mess now dripping from his shirt onto the floor. When he eventually looks up at you in deadpan exasperation, you have to bite your lip against a smile.

“Good job,” he cracks.

“I’m so sorry,” you say with a bubble of nervous laughter. “Hold on.”

You finish putting the tray in the fridge and immediately turn to grab a few paper towels. You go to Dean and start helping him blot out the sticky, frothy mess staining through his green flannel and black undershirt, from chest to sternum.

The problem is, the paper towel is thin and breaking off on his shirt, making your task damn near impossible. White, wet pieces of paper are coming off on his black shirt.

“Well, you’re doing great,” Dean wryly remarks.

You can’t help but giggle. “It’s not all my damn fault here. Who the hell buys one-ply paper towels?”

“Sam. Evidently, he’s cheap as hell,” he replies, eliciting another laugh from you.

Soon enough you give up on the paper towel with a huff, and you go to grab an actual hand towel. Dean follows you, which assures that you bump into him again when you turn back around.

You yelp as your foot starts to slip on the sticky drops on the floor, but Dean grabs your arms, steadying you. You can’t help but giggle again, looking up at him. He quirks an amused smile down at you.

But then your face slackens as you gaze up above his head. He curiously follows suit.

And you both realize that you’ve fallen into a trap.

Jack’s sprig of mistletoe once again lies above your head. Your heart trips up a bit faster as Dean looks down at you, this time with a growing smirk.

“My turn,” he says. His eyes are flirtatious, but they hold a hint of something deeper. Something you can’t name.

“Are you gonna go for my cheek like I’m your cousin?” he asks.

His raised brow is a challenge, and it makes you bite the inside of your lip. He can be so annoying, but you suppose he wouldn’t be Dean if he didn’t make things more difficult for you.

Well, I didn’t put on lipstick for nothing, you muse. And though anticipation and nerves trill down your spine, you lean up on your toes, take his face between your flour-stained hands, and press your lips to his.

It’s a sweet kiss, and his hands come to rest along the curve of your waist, holding you close.

When you pull away, you suddenly realize just what you’ve done as you let your hands fall away from his face. You’re not quite sure what to do with them afterwards, so they clench awkwardly in the air between you two.

Dean looks down at you with a softer, yet playful smirk. He reluctantly drops his hands from your waist.

But he makes a show of licking his lips. You taste sweeter than boozy eggnog…actually, you taste more like chocolate. He glances behind you, and sure enough, he spies the Nestle bag in the corner.   

“Chocolate chips?” he notes, eyeing you suspiciously. “Maybe those weren’t originally meant to be sugar cookies, huh?”

His gaze is drawn to the way you bite your lip again, trying to hold back an embarrassed smile. You raise a hand to wipe the imprint of MAC’s “Russian Red” lipstick from his mouth, and he smirks under the pad of your thumb.

“You saw nothing,” you warn him. You attempt to stifle another nervous giggle. “You’re officially sworn to secrecy.”

He hums at that. “I don’t know. What’s in it for me?”

“You’re asking for a bribe?” You raise a brow.

Dean’s smirk deepens. “Maybe. What’cha got for me?”

He rests a hand on the counter by your arm, subtly leaning in and looming over you with his broad frame. A hot blush heats your cheeks, then down your neck. And then excitement bubbles inside you.

Because the one thing you never thought would happen seems to be happening: Dean is actually, honest to God flirting with you. 

Your mouth twitches at a smile as you pretend to think. 

“Hmm…okay! I got it,” you say.

You grip the front of his shirt, and once again lean up on your toes so you can kiss him. This time, Dean holds you there by your cheek. His large hand presses against your warm skin, and his fingers soon delve into your hair. You hum against his lips and deepen the angle of your kiss, your palms lying flat against his chest.

So fucking firm, you think. A solid wall of a man.

Dean’s free hand falls warmly on your hip, bringing you ever closer. He makes a pleased sound when you suck and nip at his lower lip. And with each new kiss, you’re falling deeper and deeper into the intoxication of him. 

Before you realize it, he’s walked you back to press you into the little table in the kitchen, where you all shared breakfast this morning. But you surprise him by breaking the kiss. You pull away just enough to see his confused, handsome face.

“There you go. That’s your payment,” you tease. “Good enough?”

“Hell fucking no,” Dean rasps. 

He dives back in to claim your lips, and you smile, letting him do it. Your whole body is buzzing with warmth of feeling and happiness, especially when his arms slip around you firmly and pull you flush against him. Your hands travel up his flannel-clad arms to wind around his neck.

A moan catches in your throat when his lips veer away from yours, beginning a path along the curve of your jaw, down the side of your neck, stopping just under your ear. His stubble prickles against your skin in the most delicious of ways. Your eyes close at the feeling. 

You sigh and card your fingers up the back of his neck, through his hair. “Dean…”

He surprises you with a nipping kiss on your earlobe, making you jump a little with a yelp.

You utter a laugh and playfully tighten your hand in his hair. “Hey!”

The sound of his deep, muffled chuckle in your ear sends tingles along your skin and heat, down between your legs. You let out a shaking sigh and press kisses of your own to his neck.

You tug at the collar of his shirt to reveal more skin, so you can latch onto his shoulder next. It’s a playful bite, one that elicits a groan from Dean as his thigh slips between both of yours.

His hands find your waist, and with a quiet grunt, he hefts you up onto the kitchen table. You squeal at the sudden move, clinging to his shoulders when the table shakes a bit.

But it prompts you to look up at Dean’s face. You see the desire darkening his eyes to hunter green. And his hands part your knees to let him stand between them.

You blush hotly when his palms smooth up your bare thighs, over the skirt of your dress. He drags the thin fabric with him and rucks it up well above your knees. Your mouth parts on a shaky breath when those sinful hands stop at your hips, bunching up the fabric there.

“I like this dress,” he mentions. Your mouth curves with a grin.

“I think it likes you back,” you reply. Your gaze falls to his chest as you pick at the collar of his flannel. “This should go, though.”

With an amused huff, Dean shrugs out of the green plaid first. You help him with the black undershirt next, giggling a little when it gets caught on his wrist and spikes up his short hair. That’s all right, you think, because you’re about to mess it up even more.

Your hands run over his bare chest first though, as you drink him in with your eyes. Dean notices with a smirk, and he lets you pull him in again by his hair as you meet him with a passionate kiss.

He likes the way you try to devour him with lips and tongue and teeth. In turn, he slips underneath the skirt of your dress and squeezes your thighs.

You gasp into his mouth, allowing him to devour you back. It makes you realize that this is seriously heading somewhere. It’s hot and heady and his touch is making your head swim. But your heart shoots you a firm reminder…

One that makes you slower to respond to Dean’s increasingly demanding kiss.

Sensing your hesitation though, Dean slows his roll.

“You okay?” his deep voice rumbles.

When you don’t have a ready answer for him, he pulls back enough to see your face. He finds your uncertainty.

You look down in embarrassment.  

Even though his heart is still pounding (and his dick straining in his jeans), Dean moves his hands from under your skirt, back to your waist. And he raises his brows, ducking to find your eyes. Once you meet his gaze, he gives you a smile. 

“Hey, talk to me,” he prompts. His thumbs brush against your sides, earning your weak smile back. Your hands slide down his neck to rest on his shoulders.

“Sorry. I just, um…” you stumble on your words. You’re not sure how you want to say this, but Dean’s brows are knitting together. His face is more serious now as he watches you with singular focus. It gives you enough courage to put your heart in his hands.

“This, us, right now…is this a one-time deal?” you ask.

Out of all the things he thought you might say, maybe Dean should’ve prepared for that one a bit better. He frowns, considering how to answer you—and what would put the least amount of pressure on you. Even though his gut is telling him (kicking him), on what he should really tell you.

But those words get stuck in his mouth. So all he can bring himself to say is…

“If you want it to be,” he says.

You bite your lip at that. Though not in a good way, his instincts also tell him. Your gaze falls.

“That’s just it,” you say. After a moment, you manage to look up at him again. 

“I don’t think I can do that,” you say in measured tones, even though you’re scared. “I like you, Dean.” 

The “like” feels like something a lot deeper, even to your own ears.

But you don’t expect the way Dean’s guarded face softens.

He breaks into a smile that makes his eyes crinkle at the corners. He tucks a loose strand of your hair behind your ear, brushing your cheek with his thumb. You close your eyes at the tender touch. 

“Well, that’s good,” he says. “Because here I was, trying to wrap my head around how I was supposed to let you go after havin’ you…right where I want you.”

Your eyes flash open at that. Then he leans down and kisses you again. Your shock is a powerful thing, but it all but melts at his touch. You relax into him with a sigh of relief, kissing him back and closing your eyes against the sweet sting of tears.

You don’t have time to let them fall though. Dean doesn’t give that to you. He pulls you by your thighs until you’re at the edge of the table. You feel his hands travel up and curl around the waistband of your underwear. You raise up for him so he can tug them down, over your ass and thighs, and you kick the black, lacy panties off your foot with a giggle.

Dean grins, especially when you go for his belt. Your eyes briefly meet with his while you make quick work of the buckle, then the button and zipper on his jeans. You hook two fingers in the waistband of his boxer briefs and tug him closer.

“Come ‘ere,” you whisper.

Smirking, Dean obliges you, stepping closer into your orbit. And he has to grip your thighs for support when you slide a hand down the front of his underwear, feeling down the length of his hard cock with a gentle, sensuous hand. He moans, pressing his forehead into your shoulder.

“Ooh, finders keepers,” you tease. Dean snorts against your neck and presses a biting kiss there, satisfied by the way you gasp and shiver.

You feel the shape of his smile on your skin. But he grabs your arms tight when your hand squeezes experimentally around his cock.

“Fuck,” he mutters. “You gonna keep teasing me, sweetheart?”

“Maybe,” you reply cheekily. All the while, you continue to caress him within the confines of his pants, especially brushing your thumb around the sensitive head.

If you keep this up, he’s not going to last long enough to do everything he wants to do to you. Everything he’s dreamed about for years with a hand wrapped around himself…but he’s been too much of a fucking coward to make that leap with you.

He told himself he was protecting you. That you were better off with someone less damaged. That he’d just drag you down into his hellish life.

But he just can’t fucking take it anymore. 

So Dean grasps your wrist, prompting you to release him. You look down at his face and catch the way his playfulness fades into a more concentrated desire. The heat in his eyes makes your mouth part in soft surprise.

Dean picks up from where he left off before, pressing a hand to your cheek and ravaging your lips. His hand then slides into your hair and gets a firm grip. All the while, his free one slips beneath your dress and between your legs. First he just teases the seam of your pussy with the calloused pads of his fingertips.

Your breath catches in your throat as you squeeze his shoulders and lean back, giving him a better angle. And you utter a moan when those thick digits slip between your folds and sink deeply into your wet heat.

“Dean,” you gasp his name into his mouth. The hand in your hair tightens as he works you over, exploring your inner channel with two fingers while this thumb presses and circles around your clit. Your tremulous hips begin to move in time with his rhythm, meeting his thrusts as you pulse deep inside with pleasure.

His lips drift away from your mouth, pressing against your cheek, then into your neck.

“I got you, baby. Let go for me,” he says hotly in your ear. His thumb rubs more insistently against your clit in time with his pulsing fingers.

Your inner walls squeeze around his hand, tighter and tighter. And you utter a gasping moan into his ear as you cling to him. Dean strokes inside you through your shuddering release. It’s almost too much, but it prolongs the feeling of your pleasure and makes your arms tremble around his neck.

Afterwards, he rubs your lower back until you catch your breath. You manage to press a grateful kiss into his neck, then his cheek.

“Holy shit,” you utter. It earns a genuine laugh from Dean as he cups the back of your head.

“Oh, we’re not done,” he promises, leaning back to look into your eyes. “I think you’re gonna be more comfortable in my room.”

You tilt your head at him. “Or…”

You shuffle even closer to him on the table and pull off your dress, slipping it over your head. You feel a little self-conscious in exposing your full self to him, but Dean watches you undress with hungry eyes and a tight jaw.

After your black dress falls to the floor, he takes in the sight of your body, his gaze landing on the black lace bra still covering your breasts. His hands slip up the curve of your waist, up your sides, and slide behind to unhook your bra.

His mouth burns a trail down your chest, between the valley of your breasts when he drags the bra down your arms and to the floor. You grab onto his arms for support; you feel like you’re riding the hurricane that is Dean Winchester, and you don’t expect to come out intact.

“Fucking beautiful,” he murmurs against your skin, making you shudder. You suck in a breath as his hands cup your breasts, roughly kneading and rolling his thumbs over pert nipples.

“Smooth talker,” you manage to quip with a smile.

“Ain’t nothin’ but the truth,” he tells you. “Feels like I’ve been waiting a goddamn lifetime for this.”

His eyes are dark with desire, but they’re also serious. Your voice gets stuck in your throat for a moment. He’d been waiting for you?

But you realize that sometimes, words are overrated. You slide your arms around his neck and kiss him deeply, licking into his mouth and taking satisfaction from the way he groans into yours.

He holds you flush against his chest, skin to blushing skin. He runs his warm hands down your naked back, familiarizes himself with each and every one of your curves.

Dean’s waited so long for this, he doesn’t know whether to take his time, or just take you right now before someone walks into the open kitchen.

But you make the decision for him.

You break away from his lips to drag his belt and jeans down, just enough to shuffle them past his hips. Dean’s lips curve into a smirk. It would be easier to turn you around and bend you over on the table (and the thought is pretty fucking appealing right now).

…But he wants to see your face. He wants to know, looking in your eyes, what you want from him and how his touch makes you feel. 

So he helps you free his straining cock from his boxers to line himself up to your entrance.

With his arm wrapped around your waist to support you, and a hand on the table, Dean sheathes himself inside you. You both release shaking breaths as he bottoms out, stretching your inner walls and wrapping firmly around him.

“Fuck,” he grunts.

You nod at that, wiping the dewy sweat forming above his brow. He flashes you a grin, one you recognize from his younger, more boyish days. It’s a welcome sight, and you smile back and wrap your legs around his hips. If possible, it buries him deeper inside you. He groans.

“Damn, baby,” he says, panting for breath. “Haven’t even started yet, but you might just kill me.”

“There are worse ways to go,” you tease.

He snorts at that. In their line of work, isn’t that the fucking truth.

When he begins to slide out of you for the first time, you brace yourself with a hand at the back of his neck and another on the table. Dean begins a steady rhythm, one that serves you well as you get used to the size of him.

But eventually you urge him on faster, your nails scraping through his hair and against his scalp. He groans and drives into you at a clip that makes your toes curl and a keen high in your throat.

He spills hotly inside you when he comes.

You know you shouldn’t have let him, but you wanted to feel him, wanted to hold him the way he held you. And you do so, stroking his cheek and drawing a thumb across his full lower lip as he shudders.

But Dean isn’t satisfied, not until his fingers further part your folds and find your still sensitive clit. He rubs and circles insistently, until you can’t help but give him your second release, shuddering a moan as you cling to him. He holds you with an arm wrapped tight around your lower back, pressing your breasts against his chest.

You both pant for breath. His cheek rests alongside yours, and both of your eyes close for a moment. You brush your fingers more gently through his hair.

“Dean,” you start to say, but the sound of the bunker’s door unlocking makes you both freeze.

“Shit,” Dean mutters.

You can’t see them from the kitchen, but you hear Sam and Jack come in. Oh fuck.

Dean reluctantly detangles himself from you and wrestles up his underwear and jeans. Meanwhile, you hop off the kitchen table to grab your dress, pulling it on as you look for your bra and panties.

Sam calls your name, then Dean’s. But the two of you ignore him as you try to silently scramble around.

You manage to find your bra, but you don’t have time to put it on. You shove it behind the toaster. Then you find a napkin to wipe off the rest of your lipstick.

Meanwhile, Dean finds his black shirt. He hesitates when he sees it’s stained all over with flour and dried eggnog, but he puts it on anyway. (He won’t realize until later that his hair and shoulders are flecked with the stuff, just as his lips and chin are still smudged with your lipstick.)

He grabs the green flannel you throw at him, and he finds your panties tossed in the corner. He raises up the black lace in his hand and smirks at you with waggling brows.

“Give me that!” you whisper-hiss. The slick between your thighs is already becoming uncomfortable, along with the chill on your bare ass under the dress.

But instead of obeying, Dean winks at you and pockets them instead. You gape in disbelief as he flees the kitchen, presumably to disappear into his room. It leaves you in a…sticky situation, so to speak.

Sam calls your name questioningly when he comes around the corner. He pops into the kitchen with a few Walmart bags in hand. Sticking out of one of them are some stockings, you notice.

“Hey, how’s the baking going?” he asks.

“Good!” you say, though your voice is far too high and chipper. “Good. Just about to get them into the…oven.”

You turn and realize you haven’t even pre-heated the oven. You do so after pressing a few buttons, and you go to the fridge to grab the tray of chilling dough.

Sam raises a brow at you, especially when he sees your frizzy hair, and the flour stained across your bottom.

But he wisely doesn’t comment.

Later that night, Dean lays on his bed. He’s long since showered, fully clothed, arms crossed while his music plays from his laptop. But he can’t make himself focus on anything else but you.

How it was to finally have you; not just the give of your soft curves under his hands, but the sound of your voice coming apart in his ear, the way you’d begged him, at times teased him, and then gave him a run for his money with your wily hands and tongue.

Dean’s had all of that running through his head for the rest of the damn day.    

And there were stolen looks at dinner that evening. Furtive smiles. Brief, innocent touches. Moments where you blushed down to your neck, and he had to hide his amusement. (Even if his brother had noted his apparent good mood at dinner.)

But between Sam and the two angels hanging around, Dean hasn’t had a chance to talk to you after what happened in the kitchen. He doesn’t want you to get the wrong idea.

If you want it to be, he’d said, when you asked if this was going to be a one-time thing.

He hopes he made himself clear—that this is not that kind of deal. Not for him.

Now that he’s gotten a taste of what he couldn’t have, and worse, now that he knows you want more from him…he just can force himself to let go this time.

There’s a thought that he doesn’t want to face. It’s been buried so deep, for so long, that he can’t even commit it to the forefront of his mind.

But it’s there.

Despite the hell he attracts like flies to shit, he wants you. Not for one night. Not just for kicks. He wants you to stay arguing with him about stupid shit, taking his teasing and dishing it right back—like making fun of his slippers and how much he secretly likes country music.

He wants you with him and Sam on hunts, even though it also makes him worry. (But he worries much more when he knows you’re out there, hunting alone.)

Dean thinks about you when you’re not around, more often than he’d like to admit. So today, he finally had to face the truth.

He wants you. More than he’s wanted anything in a long time. And he wants to find out what it’ll be like to try this for real, with you.

The thought that you still could be thinking otherwise, wondering, doubting him, has Dean going mildly insane.

It’s not right, and he takes pride in righting wrongs.

So he decides to break out of the confines of his room to find yours. It lies down the hall and to the left; he knows because you take the same room every time you stay at the bunker, which admittedly, isn’t as often as he likes. Maybe they can change that…

“Oh. Hello, Dean,” says Castiel.

Dean inwardly curses as the angel comes from the opposite direction. Already he’s tilting his head in curiosity.

“It’s late. Feeling peckish?” he asks.

“Uh, yeah,” Dean replies. He moves past the angel and continues down the hall.

“Dean,” the angel calls to him.

Dean pauses, looking over his shoulder.

“What?”

“The kitchen is the other way,” Castiel points in the direction in which he’s going.

“Uh…well, yeah,” Dean says. “I just, uh…”

Cas’s head tilts just so, confusion soon replacing his curiosity.

“Never mind,” Dean waves a dismissive hand. He’s forced to follow his friend down the hall, away from your bedroom door which lies just inches away.

He doesn’t know that you can hear the entire conversation from the safety of your bed, comfortable in your pajamas. You have to stifle a giggle as you listen to Dean fumbling. You have a feeling you know where he’d really been headed.

So you take your phone out and text him.

Foiled by Columbo once again, you tease.

Moments later, Dean texts you back.

More like cock-blocked.

You snicker at that. You still haven’t given back my panties.

And you ain’t getting them back. They’re spoils of war.

You roll your eyes. But then Dean starts typing again.

Just to recap. Today: not a one-time thing.

Your smile grows and warms, like melted butter.

Good…can we talk tomorrow?

It’s a date, he says. And a beat later. Merry Christmas, beautiful.

You realize it’s officially 12:00 a.m. Christmas morning. You have a feeling it’s going to be a good one.

Merry Christmas, Dean.

AN: 😏 Well then. Merry Christmas, indeed. Let me know what you thought of Part 2!

Next Time:

Dean takes your hand and leads you downstairs to the garage.

There you find the remains of your car, which has rusted out parts strewn haphazardly all over the ground. You raise a brow. This is how he fixes your car? 

“You are so not winning the bet.”

Or will he? 😉

Find out in PART 3.

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[normalaboutfugo]

"I can't find an ask box so I'mma just drop this here! I would love something with mafia boss GIORNO finding out his mom had another kid and pretty much goes feral to adopt them !! tyy"

𝐈𝐍𝐕𝐈𝐃𝐈𝐀 — 𝐄𝐍𝐕𝐘 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐌.

⋆₊☆ ⊂⊃ platonic yandere don!giorno || m.list

[ warning :: PLATONIC/NOT ROMANTIC, kinda kidnapping, platonic yandere ]

[ notes :: first post!! thank you @foundfamyanderes for requesting!! <3 i can't remember what happened to gio's mom but just pretend she left giorno and had reader and left them too lol ]

[ important :: see this post on another blog? likely a repost to my rebranded multi-fandom blog! don't be afraid to check, but if they're not linked w me, let me know! <33 ]

— when giogio first learns his mother went on to have another kid, he wanted to have a genuine connection, and he did everything in his power to find them. what if you weren't doing so well on your own, assuming that your mother didn't care about you, like she didn't with him? there's no way he'd let his own blood live like this, especially when he was doing so well.

— giorno did everything he could to look for you, searched the internet under the last name shiobana to find a lead, he looked for his mom's profile online, and when he found it, he saw various pictures of drinks, club floors, everything you'd expect from someone like her.

— it took a long time, quite a bit of searching through what seemed like a million pictures of your mom partying — giorno scrolled for hours and hours, ignoring the way his eyes burnt when he looked at the screen for too long.

— finally, after he thought he was starting to fall asleep from staring at the bright computer screen for forever, he found multiple pictures of selfies from his mom with the head of a child in the background; cropped out the best if could be, but still quite obvious you existed.

— it took a long time to find you, but honestly, it confused giorno. why was he so hooked on meeting you? he only found out you existed a few days ago, and you didn't even know you had a half brother.

— when giorno finally found you, he had immediately introduced himself to you — not as the don, but as your brother. he wanted to have a genuine connection with you, because he never had a sibling, and while everyone in bucciarati's gang were like family, but blood ran thicker than water.

— and upon finding out you were broke and living on pickpocketing because your mother left you? giorno spoiled the fuck out of you. when he met you, he treated you to a meal at one of the nicest places in italy because he wanted to make a good impression, but when he finds out you're not used to such good dining and being treated well?

— most definitely takes you shopping for whatever you want, turning you down when you say you'll pay him back for it.

"Here, whatever you want."

"That's...! Giorno, no, I'll pay you back as soon as I ca-"

"With money you took? Don't worry about it, there's more than enough for you to have what you wanted."

— reader goes quiet real quick

— not long after meeting him, giorno offers you a place to live. the streets got cold at night, and he would know. gratefully, you accepted it; what else could you do?

— it doesn't take long for giorno to get overbearing. he'll start putting extra locks on the doors, and when questioned, express that he just wants you to feel safer in your new home.

"..Giorno, what's with the locks on the door?"

"The locks? Oh, I wanted to make sure you felt safe, is all. Is there a problem?"

"Well.. no, I just.. don't you think it's a bit much?"

"Mm.. no, I don't think so. You can never be too sure."

— he might even give you a curfew at first

— he'll give you the reasoning that the streets of italy aren't safe at later times, which is semi-true. it really wasn't safe to be roaming around at night, especially after you start living with the boss himself; word spreads like wildfire in passione, and a bounty would be placed on your head by traitors before you know it.

— eventually, a curfew turns into him spending every second with you during your outings, and that turns into you just not being allowed to leave the house at all.

— even if he needs to pull a few strings to find a reason to keep you home, he'll do what he needs.

"The strap on your bag, it's broken."

"Oh, yes.. I noticed a bit ago, but it's no big deal."

"That's fine, we can get you a new one today. There's got to be something identical somewhere."

"Should I get ready to go out, then?"

"No, you don't need to. We can find something online, or I can go find it at the store we bought it from."

"..Oh. Why?"

"I don't want you going out."

— when you bring up your concerns to him about not being allowed to leave, he takes it really well, as if he'd just up and abandoned his previous reasons for you being kept inside. and after that, you go to bed that night with relief, sleeping easily knowing that it's going to change.

— except for in the morning, when you're leaving the room, you turn the doorknob only to realize you were locked in from the outside. on the nearest table is a notepad, next to a plate of food and a cup of water. written in red ink,

"[READER],

It's wrong to lock you up, but I can't bring myself to put you in danger and allow you to leave. But I can also promise it's only temporary, I want you to be happy here. I had some business with the famiglia, so I left home quite early this morning. I will return, but while I'm not there, I left food and a glass of water next to this note. I'll be seeing you soon.

— Giorno

[bri-cheeses]

The Skittles Finding Out About Rosekiller Pt. 1:

Based partially on this post by @asoldasss

It happens slowly, and maybe that’s why it takes so long for people to start to wonder. Just a brush of fingers here, a hand on the small of the back there. And Barty’s always been a touchy person, so it isn’t like random touches were too out of the ordinary for him. He did these things with all his friends, Regulus, Dorcas, Pandora, Evan, anyone and everyone he cared about. But then Regulus and Dorcas start dating other people, and he realizes that he no longer has quite the same privileges as before, and that’s okay. He understands that, so he stops being as touchy. With them, at least. And then Pandora starts dating someone seriously, too. So the same thing happens with her.

And maybe consciously, maybe subconsciously, Panda, Reg, and Cas know why Barty stopped treating them in the way he stills treats Evan, with small touches that are his way of showing that he cares. So, they don’t much wonder as Barty and Evan get much more touchier; standing extremely close to each other, sitting with their legs pressed together even though there’s plenty of space, resting their head on the other’s shoulder, you get the idea. It makes sense to them, whether consciously or not, that since Barty can no longer spread his attention evenly between his all of his friends, that he would instead lavish all of his affections upon Evan and Evan only. And of course, they reason, it makes sense that Barty and Evan would progressively grow touchier as Barty’s “temporary” break from being touchy with the three of them stretches longer and longer.

None of them think to wonder why Evan, whose love language is not and has never been physical touch, is the one to initiate the contact at least one third of the time.

As Barty and Evan start being more obvious about their relationship, the whispers around the castle start. It starts in the Slytherin common room, when Evan comes in and plops down on the couch, resting his head in Barty’s lap. Their friends, used to Barty doing this, dismiss this almost immediately. But the others, who are typically in bed when Barty engages in this behavior (usually drunk after coming back from a party to find his friends still up, because they like the common room best when it’s almost empty), raise an eyebrow at this. Is that not something that a couple would do?

The talk dies out a short while later—only to come back with vengeance when a fourth year Gryffindor sees Barty in the library, standing with his arm around Evan’s waist while they talk to Pandora about a particularly challenging potion that Slughorn is having them brew. The Gryffindor proceeds to immediately go to their friend in fifth year, telling her that “That Crouch kid and Rosier guy are dating, did you know?”

Naturally, the fifth year interrogates the fourth year to get all the details, then mentions it to her Ravenclaw friend, who mentions it to his friend while studying in the common room, and the entire Ravenclaw common room overhears. And since the Ravenclaw are such good friends with the Slytherins, they mention it to them. And it jogs the Slytherins’ memories to a few nights ago, when I told you, Susan, that sitting with your head in someone’s lap is definitely a couple-ly thing to do, why didn’t you believe me?

The gossip tree works fast in a school like Hogwarts, and the next day, people are coming up to Dorcas and Regulus and Pandora and asking them straight out if Barty and Evan are dating. And they are shocked and beyond confused because why are you asking, what even gave you that idea? Except for Pandora, who simply smiles and gives such a vague answer that it just confuses anyone who talks to her. But Dorcas and Regulus vehemently deny these rumors, because Barty’s always been a very touchy person, how have you not noticed? It’s not anything out of the ordinary.

But then a third year asks Regulus why he hasn’t been seen with Barty’s hand around his waist, and it gives Regulus a pause. And then he finally starts paying attention.

[pheonixkenny]

How do you think other characters would react if they found out about Kenny’s immortality? I kinda go back and forth on this. I have many different ideas on how they’d react depending on how I’m feeling or information I have or w/e. I’m not sure how they would react canonically but I have some of my own ideas. (Ideas listed under the cut.)

Kyle: Given that he was the only one to give him the benefit of the doubt when Kenny mentioned it in “Coon Vs Coon and Friends.” (“Ok, let’s say you’re not crazy and it’s true.”) He would be one of the best at handling it. He does still think it’s kinda cool, but he knows better now than to tell Kenny that. He’s the one who asks him the most questions. (Like, “What’s it like to die? What’s the afterlife like? Do you think you’ll live forever?, etc.) He does feel kinda guilty for not knowing/believing him earlier, thinking he’s a bad friend. He enters big brother protection mode (previously reserved for Ike) around Kenny afterwards to try and keep him from dying so much. Kenny cycles back and forth between being flattered and annoyed about this. He also becomes determined to break Kenny’s curse, researching everything he can about the cult of cthulhu and immortality. The guy has a full on conspiracy board about this within a week.

Cartman: I know a lot of people have the theory that he already knows, it’s a solid theory that holds up logically but I don’t personally believe it because Cartman would absolutely take advantage of Kenny’s little power for his own gain. Anyone else who finds out about it tries to keep it from Cartman for this very reason.

Butters: Butters is a sweetheart so he apologizes profusely and gives Kenny a hug when he finds out. He also hugs Kenny whenever he comes back from a death and tries to comfort him, with varying degrees of success. I also feel like Butters would just believe him without any proof. Given how many of Cartman’s schemes he’s fallen for over the years I think it’s safe to say that he’s pretty gullible. He will believe pretty much anything you tell him. It’s just in this case it happens to be true.

Tweek: I saw a headcanon on here that Tweek would also believe Kenny because, thanks to the Underpants Gnomes, he knows how frustrating it is not to be believed. I love that and am stealing it. He wouldn’t exactly handle the information well though, because that is WAY too much pressure.

Craig: Craig didn’t give a shit when fucking lasers came out of his eyes so it’s safe to say he doesn’t give a shit about this either. He’ll say a sarcastic remark about it once in a while, but that’s about it.

Stan: Hoo boy, Stan. I know that I just recently wrote a fanfiction where Stan is patient and understanding about the whole thing but I changed my mind. So, in “The Cissy” when people around him start experimenting with gender for various reasons Stan gets worried and confused. He reacts similarly during the Tweek and Craig/Yaoi situation in “Tweek x Craig”. And who could forget the time when he didn’t go visit Kenny in the hospital because he couldn’t deal with the situation? (I’m making him sound like a bad kid, he’s not, he’s just sensitive and doesn’t know how to handle some things in the best way.) So now I’m thinking that when he finds out he’ll have another Stan Marsh Existential Crisis (patent pending) and just kinda avoid Kenny for a while. That’s not a good way to handle it but he doesn’t know what else to do. He doesn’t know what to say to the guy. It feels like everything has changed between them. Kyle has to intervene and goes up to Stan like “dude, quit being an idiot and go talk to Kenny. He thinks you hate him now.” (Because I can’t imagine a world where Stan knows and Kyle doesn’t or vice versa.) And he feels bad because he never meant to give him that impression. He still likes him just as much as before, he just needed some time to process everything. So he takes Kyle’s advice and they talk things out. Kenny understands how the information can be a shock and Stan promises not to withdraw like that again when his friends need him. Eventually he gets used to it and it just becomes another quirk that one of his friends has. (Thinking of writing a fic about this scenario but, like I said, I already wrote a fic focusing on Stan and Kenny’s relationship. I should probably use one of my Kyle and Kenny fic ideas first.)

[bistaxx]

Anyway, Jinx random wartime q!hgduo spitball ramblings/ headcanons/ off-the-cuff analysis ig cuz I like thinking about them ^_^

I think they didn't meet at the start of the games but maybe a few months to a year or two in- I'd say either when Cellbit is about 15 or close to being 15.

By that time both Bad and the currently nameless teenager both had some sort of reputation as dangerous, ruthless, and maybe even downright cruel killers on the battlefield. One way or another they ended up becoming partners much to the horror of everyone else.

For Cellbit he'd recognize that sticking by Bad increased his chances of survival by a LOT and this dude doesn't even get mad when he takes bites out of him which is great.

For Bad I feel like he could've gone through the games alone with not much trouble but staying solo gets stale and lonely after while- he'd have teamed up with other players in the past but they all either died or left him eventually- he thinks it's gonna be no different with Cellbit but is pleasantly surprised when he's proven wrong.

And boy was that a good thing, because Bad has a bad habit of getting attached! He fed this stray cat a few times and now it's following after him and Bad doesn't have the heart to shoo the poor beast away!

Although Bad has much more experience and is vastly older he respects how much fighting skill his teenage partner has- he can hold his own on the battlefield- which is why he doesn't view him as his 'child' or a dependent but somewhere in-between an equal and a protege. Cellbit deferred to his leadership during fights, but theirs still a mutual respect between them.

Later on their bond would end up in a sort of vague area in the middle of a triangle between mentor & protege, equals, and something dangerously close to familial.

I find it hard to doubt that there were times when Bad would be shockingly reminded that his partner is in fact still a child... and perhaps times where Cellbit would find himself relying on Bad the ways a child would their parent or older sibling... Maybe at some point letting his funny little friend eat his flesh or spending resources healing him became less about keeping him healthy for the next battle and more about keeping him alive just a little bit longer- Maybe sticking by this powerful ally became less about pragmatism and more about companionship.

That said, as far as Cellbit's concerned he never had a family, as far as Bad's concerned his children are Dapper and Pomme... Cellbit's all grown-up now and so much time has passed that they see one another as something more akin to just 'old friends' who know what the other is capable of and thus know better then to underestimate each other... but I feel as they spend more time with each other again the echoes of the dynamic they once had become more tangible- especially given the major toll of the eggs being missing. Cellbit knows he can turn to Bad if he needs him and Bad will look out for Cellbit when he can even as he is (quite ltierally) falling apart.

Maybe sometimes even now he still can't help but see that nameless kid when he looks at Cellbit.

I honestly don't think Bad regrets the way he guided Cellbit during the war- nor do I believe that Cellbit harbors any resentment over Bad's influence in his life- even if it's left him with the same sort of fucked morals his former guardian has, his terrible self-sacrificial tendencies, and who knows what else. The reality of their situation during the games could never allow for softer forms of kindness- there was no time for them to be a 'family' and no time to think about what happens 'next' after this is all over. Bad couldn't teach Cellbit how to live, but he could teach him how to survive.

I haven't really settled on what I think happened at the end of the 'war' when they part ways... but sometimes I do think about how in the actual video Cellbit dies at the very end and man that can be interpreted in a lot of interesting ways- like obviously in qsmp canon Cellbit survives the war but it's still fun to take that into consideration!

Anyway, you know those images of predator animals with blood covered on their faces after eating a tasty meal- yeah that's them during the hunger games to me LOL

... Also does anyone else find it really funny that Foolish's adopted son and Badboyhalo's protege ended up getting married like- something about that is just really funny to me... Also I'm surprised no one has done anything about how the dude taken in by a totem of undying found love with the guy who was guided by a grim reaper like- I feel like there's some cool potential there!

Ty for reading all of that- or skimming it that's cool too! I just wanna say despite liking q!Bad and q!Cellbit a lot I do NOT consider myself to be super knowledgeable about them as characters, I just have a major soft spot for dynamics like theirs and wanted to ramble LOL so um yeah:

[hekate1308]

There Was Winter’s Cold A Destiel Advent Calendar December 17

Masterpost

Now, he would say this – it was something to see Crowley introduce himself to Cas. “Well well well look at you. Blue eyes, stubble… not exactly the mermaid one would expect.” He glanced at Dean because of course he knew his type as well as Dean himself.

“Hello” Cas said as friendly as he always did. “Dean says you are a good person, just don’t always show it. I am very thankful you are trying to find a way to return me home.”

This had the very much unknown effect of reducing Crowley to a stuttering mess, because – so far Dean was the only one who had discovered his secret, which was that he could counter any attack, throw any barbed comment right back in the other guy’s face, ignore any bestowed on him. But actually compliment him? Watch him transform into a stuttering mess within seconds.

Dean had discovered that when he had thanked him after a rather adventurous night out, the details of which he would only ever repeat under duress.

“Yes – I – “ Crowley cleared his throat. “I – I am happy that – anyway – Squirrel?”

He decided to put him out of his misery. “So what have you found, then?”

“We’re in – “ he glanced at Dean and then Cas and apparently decided to not use his usual metaphors and innuendos when talking to him which Deanb was rather grateful for because Crowley could be – well – he could be – Crowley. Dean might have been the one person who had no problems with that, but when it came to Cas… yeah, probably for the best, all in all.

“The point is, there is a way that Cassie here could return to the waves, but it will take a bit of a… well… you do know your fairytales, don’t you?”

Cas might not, but Dean did. “So he has to pass some form of test?”

“that’s one way of putting it” he said. “The usual stuff as far as I am aware… riddles, that sort of thing.”

He nodded. “Three?” He might be a mechanic with a house and friends, these days, but once upon a time, he had been a kid trying desperately to entertain his little brother with stories and fairytales and whatnot, and he knew the basics.

“Of course.”

“Thank you” Cas said again. “I can see why Dean thinks of you as one of his best friends.”

Dean had not told him such, but it was certainly true.

And it was worth it just to see Crowley transform into a spluttering mess again and disappearing as quickly as he could after passing him a paper where he had written down all that was necessary.

How to return to your true home

Well, that sounded promising enough – exactly what they anted or needed. If they hot lucky, they could have Cas back in the river in a few days time, maybe even faster…

Dean pretended his heart didn’t falter at the thought. He could feel sorry for himself later, especially when he had to explain to Ellen and Bobby why the boyfriend they had liked so much had done a disappearing act on him (Not that that would be anything new. None of his – let them call it relationships just for the sake of the argument – had ever lasted long, and probably wouldn’t for quite some time to come, not if he was going to be looking for eyes just the right shade of blue…)

No no no, this wouldn’t do. He had to focus on the here and now, on what was to be done.

Back to the paper, then.

Hm. From what Dean could tell, it really was nothing too difficult – fetch water on which the moon was shining. That, alright, they just had to go to the river at night and get some – well, Cas had to get some but Dean would accompany him, naturally he would.

Then the next one. Bring something from the place you call home. Alright, they would have to work through that. He did not really know what that meant because they we trying to return Cas home, but on the other hand… their tap water came from the river, didn’t it? There was a reason they were not supposed to drink it. So that should be –

But then the last one.

Be honest about your heart’s desire.

Well, what was that supposed to mean? But he supposed they would cross that bridge when they came to it, and now that he thought about it – could there be any stronger desire in Cas then to get home? Dean knew what it was like not having one, so he was more than ready to bet it was all he thought about…

“I think we can do it, Cas” he then announced, passing him the paper.

He even managed to smile as he did so.

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

headcanons of Dean with a daughter?

This thought is vague, it occurred to me while I was sleeping.

Season 10: Dean as a demon is wandering with Crowley, one day Crowley tells the demon Dean that he has something to teach him, he has two people he wants Dean to meet. Dean is baffled, Sam and Cas are with the bunker. Who is Crowley talking about? Upon arriving at the indicated place, he sees a teenage girl of about 17 years old and also Ben. Who is that girl, what is she doing with Ben and how did they get there?

1)The girl is very similar to Cassie, the girl he fell in love with in season one, Crowley explains to Dean that when he saw Cassie again she did not tell him that they had a daughter together, Cassie did not want her daughter growing up with a hunter father and Cassie didn't want to drop the "you have a daughter" bomb on Dean, Cassie knew Dean had to leave, but the moment Dean left town, Azazel arrived, killed everyone (including Cassie) and Azazel kidnapped Dean's daughter so they could use her against Dean, but before even doing so Dean shoots Azazel in the cemetery (Den didn't find out about his daughter) so Dean's daughter was just left with the demons who was taking care of her while she was kidnapped, somehow the girl escaped from the demons and having no one, she jumped from orphanage to orphanage while getting involved in the life of the hunters.

2) Ben: After Cas wiped his memory, Lisa and Ben lived a normal life, until an evil angel (all while Dean is in purgatory), probably Naomi, kills Lisa and Ben's entire family and Naomi kidnaps to Ben, she gives Ben back the memories that Cas took from him and she wants to manipulate him to have something to blackmail Dean with, while Ben is kidnapped, Naomi brings him a hunter as a cellmate, Dean and Cassie's daughter, (Cas and Dean's daughter is 14 and Ben is 13) she is now a teenager/hunter quite angry with life because of what happened to her family. (Dean is Ben's biological father) Dean and Cassie's daughter works with her half-brother Ben to escape and they form this sibling bond. When they manage to escape from the angels, Ben has nowhere to go, his entire family is dead, so he begins hunting together with his half-sister, both agreeing that they do not want any relationship with their father, Dean Winchester.

3)In season 10 the girl is 17 years old, and Ben is 16, and both (again) are kidnapped by demons where they are taken to Demon!Dean. Crowley explains to Demon!Dean who they are (Crowley's plan was to use them for fun or as blackmail) but Dean, since he's a demon, is like "kill them both, I don't care." Ben and his sister are experts at escaping kidnappings and have really gotten good at hunting despite their young age, so they manage to escape. Dean becomes human and the first thing he does is tell Sam and Cas that he has two children but they probably hate him, Dean, Cas and Sam go out to find Dean's children

Well other than being super depressing (I love Lisa lol) this headcannon is so cool!

-Dean would be relentless searching for them after he was cured.

-it would take a while for them to warm up to him, but I think he would try to get closer to them by enlisting their help (he sees what good hunters they are, and he doesn’t want to put them in danger but he knows they’ll be hunting either way, so at least this way he can try to protect them)

-after working together for a while, the kids get really close to Dean and Sam and Cas.

-Dean tried to keep them on smaller hunts as much as he can in season 11, because The Darkness is just way too scary for him to think about his children fighting.

-they despise the men of letters in season 12, which makes Dean super proud.

-They ignore Mary so hard in season 12, because they see how much she’s avoiding Sam and Dean (Sam and Dean are smart, but they were too emotionally invested in their mother to realize what a jerk she was, but Dean’s kids are distant enough to see it)

-the kids LOVE Jack, and it freaks Dean out so much. Ben teaches Jack about cars (just like Dean taught him), and Dean’s daughter watches Star Wars with Jack.

-Dean always goes on hunts with his kids, because he hates the thought of not being their for them if something happened.

-Dean is actually so happy to see his two kids have such a strong sibling bond even if they don’t have the same mom.

[yourreddancer]

My Story & Why I Switched From Republican to Democrat

It wasn't just because of Trump.

Ron Filipkowski

Jan 13

A few stories have been written by others about my journey from a former Republican Club President, attorney, and Rick Scott then Ron Desantis political appointee to activist Democrat and independent journalist. Although I thought those stories did a pretty good job covering the basics, I wanted to explain things more in my own words. I also don’t really like to talk about myself or promote myself - I prefer for my work to get recognition rather than me personally. But I think since so many of you follow me and read my work without knowing my story, it would be useful to tell it.

I was born in western Massachusetts - my dad was first generation born in Germany right after WWII to parents displaced by the war who were sponsored to come to America when he was a child. My mother is 13th generation American whose family came to the US in 1636 and was mostly Vermont farmers. Needless to say, there was quite a contrast between each side of my family - from the language spoken, culture, food, history, etc.

My parents married when they were 21 and 18 and divorced when I was 4. My mother took myself and younger brother to Cape Cod which is where I grew up. My dad was a welder and moved to Florida, where I ended up spending most summers until I started high school and decided Cape Cod was more fun in the summer than FL. We lived in a very small house in a rural part of the Cape and my mom stayed single and cleaned houses. On an income level, I was definitely one of the poorest kids growing up in my town - but that is something you don’t really notice much until you get older.

One of the best things about growing up in a place like the Cape is the public education. I’m so thankful for it, because it allowed a working class kid like me to be able to compete against kids later in life who grew up wealthier because I got the same education they did. My teachers in school growing up went to Ivy League schools, or colleges like UMass, Williams, Boston College, Amherst. They could have taken other jobs and made more money - but they loved teaching. It was amazing. It is also why I place so much value in our public schools and the dedicated people who work in them.

That said, I was much more interested in sports and girls growing up than school. Since academics was always pretty easy for me, I never had to work very hard at it, was frequently bored, and rarely applied myself. I also worked every job imaginable since I was 12 years old - delivering newspapers, shoveling driveways, chopping wood, washing dishes, waiting tables, landscaping, on and on. If I didn’t work those jobs as a kid I would’ve had no money, no car, no nothing. But those jobs taught me many valuable lessons - and also gave me a deep appreciation today for the people who do those jobs.

When it came time to graduate high school, I had no money for college and didn’t really want to go into deep student loan debt. I also knew at that point in my life I would have been pretty undisciplined and unfocused and would have underachieved. So I joined the Marines and went to Parris Island four days after I graduated high school at age 17. I never intended to make a career out of it - I mostly wanted the GI Bill for college - but I also knew it would give me an opportunity to see the world. I was also patriotic and thought everyone should serve their country in some way. Why the Marines? That’s simple - it was the toughest challenge!

I ended up in an infantry battalion at Camp Pendleton, CA and deployed to Okinawa and South Korea. The time that I was in (1986-1990) was pretty quiet relatively speaking for our military. Saddam Hussein invaded Kuwait six months after I got out and was in college. So I didn’t do any of the Middle East stuff. I had two near-death experiences in training. I got bacterial meningitis when I was in a very remote area of Okinawa at Jungle Warfare School. They didn’t know what it was for quite a while before I was eventually rushed the hospital where I remained for 3 weeks and almost didn’t make it. Two years later, I had a lost HUMMV drive over the middle of my back at 3 AM while I was face down sleeping in some soft sand during a training exercise. I was flown by helicopter to a trauma center and luckily survived.

There wasn’t much to do in our down time at our camp in Okinawa. Most of they guys played cards or hung out in bars, but that was never my thing. I discovered a small but wonderful base library and started holing myself up there for hours and hours. I was 18 years old and had never been that interested in politics. But I began reading everything and gravitated to history and politics. This is when I self-educated myself. I read everything from across the ideological spectrum - from The Nation to National Review. From William F. Buckley to Noam Chomsky. I wanted to learn different perspectives on everything since I really didn’t know whether I was conservative, liberal, or something else!

Eventually, I gravitated towards conservatism and became a Republican. Why? That would be a topic for a separate article, but I think the most valuable thing is that I arrived there on my own without anybody pushing me or influencing me in a particular direction. I think that gave me critical thinking skills and also made me a very independent thinker when it came to politics. I wasn’t interested in dogma or indoctrination - only ideas. And I didn’t think that either side had a monopoly on good ideas. I think the best illustration of that is that I was fascinated and obsessed with the lives and ideas of both Gandhi and Churchill - although two people could not possibly be more opposite. But I saw value in many things both had to offer and say - while recognizing their shortcomings.

I jumped into night school. I took classes everywhere I could as much as I could - nights, weekends - all while serving as an active duty infantry Marine. When I visited our “Education Officer” to sign up for the tuition assistance program which paid 70% of your tuition, he didn’t know he was the battalion Education Officer because nobody had ever come to sign up for that since he had been there (officers wear many hats and have many titles). I thought that was odd - and sad that so many young Marines could go to college for nearly free but didn’t. I guess our daily jobs were so difficult they didn’t have the time, energy, or ambition. I did.

When I got out of the Marines, I was 21 years old and had 2.5 years of college credit. I got a job as a night room-service waiter at the Marriott, enrolled in college full time in San Diego, and had my bachelors degree a little over a year later. So I had just turned 23, had a bachelor’s degree, served 4 years on active duty in the Marines, and paid every penny of my tuition with my own money and the GI Bill. I also got 37 As and 3 A-minuses and graduated with a 3.97. I knew wanted to go to law school and go into politics by running for Congress someday.

While I was in the Marines, my mother and entire extended family also moved to FL. Now both sides of my family all lived in FL while I was in Marines and CA, so I no longer had any connection to Cape Cod. I also felt if I stayed in CA and went to law school there with student loans and no money, I would not be able to buy a home for a very long time. So I applied to Florida, Florida State, and Miami and was accepted to all 3. I chose FSU for politics - I wanted to intern at the state capital and I got a coveted legislative intern position where I had to work 20 hours a week in the House and they paid all my tuition. There was never a single time during my college career when I was not also working a job at the same time I was going to school.

But the summer before I started law school I decided to return to the Cape one last time. I rented a room in a big boarding house in Hyannisport and got a job scooping ice cream cones. I will never forget that job interview. The manager said - ‘you are a college graduate, did 4 years in the Marines, heading to law school, and you want to scoop ice cream cones? I can make you an Asst. Manager for the summer.’ I told him that this was my last chance to go back and be a kid a little bit after a lot of hard work and I wanted no responsibility. So I spent that summer making $8 an hour and had a blast.

That was also when I met my wife, Jackie. She was 20 years old, from Rhode Island, and had just finished a year of college while working at a nursing home. She was also from a working class family with a strict German-immigrant mother and it was her first time away from home and I was her first real boyfriend. It was one of those situations where we both just knew right away. Yes, we were very young at 23 and 20, but at the end of the summer I asked her to come with me to law school and we got married after the first semester. Five kids and 33 years later we are still very happily together.

I graduated near the top of my class but never wanted to work for a big law firm. We started having kids right away and I had 4 by the time I was 28. I often joked that I could walk by Jackie in the hallway and she would get pregnant! I wanted my kids to have a great childhood and do all the activities that I was never able to do growing up and wanted to be very involved in their activities, and working 60-70 hours a week as a junior associate at big firm wasn’t going to work. So I became a prosecutor. A lot less money, but mostly 9-5 and very rewarding.

I also got into politics and started hitting the Republican Clubs and chicken dinner circuit. But the things you had to do to claw your way up the ladder in politics when you have no family connections was time-consuming and not for me. It was also pretty slimy and so much of it was inauthentic personal relationships from self-obsessed climbers. I decided it was much more important to be a good dad and husband than it was to set myself up to run for Congress someday.

But I still did quite a lot professionally and politically. I was a state prosecutor, then a federal prosecutor, then a Police Academy Director. I was General Counsel for the Sarasota Republican Party. Little League President. Then elected twice as president of the largest Republican Club in our area. I was appointed by Rick Scott and then reappointed by Ron Desantis to the Judicial Nominating Committee. I had no higher ambitions for myself at that point.

It was in the mid-2000s that my political views began to change, but it was a gradual process. I went into private practice doing criminal defense because I needed to make more money for my young family and I was coaching the sports teams of my kids, so I needed a job where I was my own boss and could make my own schedule. I was never going to get rich - but I had the right balance between work and family.

But in that job I started working with people every day who had struggles - growing up in abusive families and tough neighborhoods, drug addictions, mental health issues, stuck in abusive and dysfunctional relationships. I also worked with a lot of migrants because they were unable to get driver’s licenses in FL, which led to unnecessary legal troubles for them. I began to see with my own eyes the disconnect between how many of my fellow Republicans viewed people with these struggles and their reality.

I began to develop empathy really for the first time for other people. I was always one of those “up from your bootstraps” Republicans. My thinking was - if I could do it anyone can. Well, some people had it much tougher than me and were dealt a different hand of cards. I just needed to live that experience because it isn’t something you are going to learn from a book. Yes, I grew up in a family that didn’t have much - but I also got a magnificent education, grew up in a neighborhood with little crime, was healthy and not abused (although my mom did like the belt!).

Then Barack Obama ran for president in 2008, and that was another thing that was a factor in my eventual exit from the Republican Party. I was President of a huge Republican Club during that time - and I watched and listened to the things that were said in those meetings about him. I will just say that is when a lot of ugliness came to the surface. It mystified me why it was so personal and nasty. Although I disagreed with him on some policy issues, he was a family man, christian, scandal free, hard working - all the things Republicans promote and are supposed to admire. But their hatred of Obama was something visceral. Something different. It wasn’t about policy differences. I began to realize that race was the main reason why.

I have often looked back on my time as an active Republican pre-Obama and asked myself if the racism was always there and I just didn’t see it? Probably. Maybe I didn’t want to see it. But I saw it in 2008-09, and I didn’t want any part of it. When John McCain had that event where he told a questioner in the audience that he wasn’t going to go there on the birtherism and Muslim stuff and that isn’t what the party should be all about - that really hit home for me because I had many of those moments myself as a Republican Club president.

Eventually, I just simply had enough of it because it just kept getting worse not better during Obama’s presidency. I left my position and checked out of most political activities with the Republican Party. I still showed up for some things when asked out of obligation, but my kids were entering High School and I just decided they were a better use of my time than the GOP.

Then 2015 came along, and Donald Trump ran for president. Everyone who grew up in the northeast in the 1980s knew who Trump was, and most of us couldn’t stand him. I was also a fan of the USFL football league growing up, and I watched Trump come in as an owner and promptly wreck the league with his dishonesty, self-aggrandizement, arrogance and incompetence. I really didn’t think there was any way that the party was going to nominate someone like Trump - I supported Marco Rubio in that primary.

Trump was everything conservatives said they were against in every way. In his personal life, his business dealings, his character, personality - everything. He was obviously racist, pretending to be religious when he was not, pretending to be a brilliant businessman when he was not. Not a good father or husband. A draft dodger. Misogynist. You know the list. I simply could not reconcile how grass roots Republican activists could despise Obama and love Trump when one lived his life in every way how Republicans say it should be led, while Trump did the exact opposite. That is when I realized that their principles and ideals meant less to them than they did to me. They cared about power and winning much more than policies and ideas. So I checked out completely.

I did not vote for Trump in 2016. I voted ‘None of the Above’ for president and voted for Republicans down-ballot. In hindsight, I wish I had voted for Hillary, but I also still did not expect Trump to win - especially after Access Hollywood. So it was more of a symbolic protest for me. But I still sleep better at night knowing that I never once voted for him even though I was a lifelong Republican. One of the few.

I checked out until 2020 and covid. Up to that point, I avoided watching TV or reading news. I did stuff with my family and watched sports. I didn’t want to see or hear anything from Trump. What disgusted me even more than Trump himself was watching people I liked and respected, who I knew never liked Trump at all, sell out to him because of their own personal ambition. People I respected and thought I knew. I have often said that is why I ultimately left the party - not because of Trump, but because of what everyone else in the party did in response to Trump. They surrendered everything they believed in and stood for - or at least what they claimed to believe in.

But in February 2020, just like everyone else, I was at home not knowing how many of us were going to die or lose our jobs during lockdowns watching Trump conduct his covid briefings where I was looking for facts and information. And I was horrified. Day after day, when I wanted to hear from scientists and public health officials, I listened to this blowhard ramble on about his grievances, Hillary Clinton, Obama, North Korea, Benghazi, Russiagate, the Perfect Phone Call, how great he was - I was furious. I was screaming and yelling, throwing things at the TV. I absolutely could not believe this buffoon was in charge of our country at a critical time, and my friends helped put him there.

That is when I made up my mind that I was going to do everything I could to help defeat him, but I didn’t know how. I was watching CNN one day that March and a commercial came on from ‘Republican Voters Against Trump.’ It was started by Bill Kristol, Sarah Longwell, and Tim Miller. I knew who they were and respected them. They were asking Republicans who were against Trump to go to their website and make a video stating their reasons why. I was pretty stunned because I didn’t realize there were prominent Republicans out there just like me who couldn’t stand Trump and were still willing to stand up to him. Then I saw some of the people from Lincoln Project, who I also knew, on TV trashing Trump and I knew there was a small movement out there I wanted to be a part of.

But it was still hard. I stewed on it for 2 weeks. I knew once I did that, I would leave a lifetime in the GOP behind, burn bridges, lose friends. But I did it. I wrote out a script, listed 27 different reasons why I despised Trump, and made 4 minute video. A short time later, I was contacted by RVAT to do more. So I did. They put me on billboards and in some ads. I got on Twitter for the very first time - which I swore I would never do. I did it to try and convince as many moderate Republicans to vote for Joe Biden, and I did it tirelessly.

I didn’t have many followers and not that many people noticed me until the Rebekah Jones situation. Ron Desantis had agents raid her home. I didn’t know much about her or her case - we have never met. But I was appalled that he would use state law enforcement in an effort to intimidate someone. What I was most upset about was I felt he was hiding important health information from the public, and was using Jones to intimidate others inside the state government to keep quiet. So I sent him a letter resigning my appointment to the Judicial Nominating Commission, which I had held for 10 years, and posted that resignation on Twitter.

I had no idea that was going to result in huge national news. I had interview requests from national and international media from everywhere. Over the next two weeks I did as many interviews as I could - that also helped me go from 200 followers on Twitter to 10,000 and gave me a slightly bigger platform to get my anti-Trump message out to reasonable Republican voters.

My plan was to remain an anti-Trump Republican or switch to independent after the election. If Trump had conceded the election gracefully and walked away, that is probably what I would have done. But he didn’t, and I didn’t expect him to. I predicted he would never concede because he has never admitted that he lost anything in his life - despite many failures. What I did not expect was to watch a post-election press conference where Trump’s lawyers Rudy Giuliani, Sidney Powell, and Jenna Ellis were going to claim that there was an international conspiracy between people in Venezuela, Italy and China to flip votes in the machines to steal the election.

Then came the Stop the Steal protests, the lawsuits, the audits, the mania. All culminating in J6. That two month time period in November-December 2020 really set up where I am today and what I am doing now. Because when I heard the stuff Rudy, Sidney & Jenna were saying I was stunned. I just didn’t understand how far the Right had gone into the world of conspiracy theories and disinformation. I was just unaware. So I dove into that world - into different platforms, following different groups and people. Some tech and social media-savvy activists saw what I was trying to do and offered to help me - and they did. Tremendously.

That is why, leading up to J6, I repeatedly warned there was going to be violence and it was going to be very ugly. I saw what they said they were going to do. They talked about wearing body armor, bringing improvised weapons, wearing masks, coordinating with other groups - doing whatever was necessary to stop the electoral count that day. When J6 played out largely like I predicted, I then gained a much larger following on social media from people who figured I might be someone who was good at figuring these people out and keeping track of what they were up to.

I also decided to switch parties, and registered as a Democrat on January 7, 2021. I felt the Republican Party was irretrievably broken and being independent was just straddling the fence when the Democratic party desperately needed clear-eyed leaders who were fearless about confronting MAGA. Although there are times when being a Democrat can be frustrating because there are different sensibilities in many areas I was not used to, I would rather have the occasional person scold me for my choice of a word than associate with insurrection apologists and habitual liars.

Throughout 2021-22 I started going to Trump rallies and events hosted by various MAGA influencers and activists. I mostly wanted to talk to the people, watch them, listen to them. I would walk through the parking lots and read all the bumper stickers on their cars. I checked out the merch booths to see what they were selling. I easily blended in because I came from that world. But I also saw that Trump brought a lot of new people into the party who were never Republican before 2016, had no loyalty to the party, and didn’t become Republican for the reasons I did - because of policy ideas. They were Republicans because they worshipped one man. And that man was repulsive.

One day I had a conversation with a very smart MAGA activist who knew who I was. Up to that point, I always believed that most Trump fans were just misguided, conned and duped and if you just gave them enough facts and reality about Trump they would come around. That was pretty much conventional wisdom among many who covered and observed MAGA from the outside looking in. But this activist explained to me that thinking was exactly wrong. He said that Trump fans were very well aware of most of the Trump traits and behavior that I abhorred - and those things are exactly what they loved about him.

I was really surprised by that take, but the more I thought about it and plugged it into my own experience with a fresh set of eyes it made perfect sense. He was exactly right. Although there are certainly misguided sheep in the MAGA movement, the vast majority are very well informed about Trump and they love all the obnoxiousness, boorishness and awfulness. They know that he lies but they don’t care. The way they see it - he lies to win and he has to do that to defeat his many diabolical enemies. Once you learn this simple truth about most Trump fans, you realize that you are wasting time trying to argue with them or convince them. You just have to defeat them.

I covered the right-wing mania at school board meetings and so many other places. Eventually, I realized that the mistake most Democrats make is that they thought they could defeat this phenomenon by defeating Trump - either in court or at the ballot box. But I felt that the focus needed to be on the movement behind Trump - the MAGA cult. The activists, influencers, media, grifters, podcasters, etc. These are the people who really drive the Trump train. And I saw in so many of them so many weaknesses - their checkered backgrounds and past positions, barely disguised racism and misogyny, lack of education, perversion of christianity, greed and shameless grifting, and how much many of them disliked each other.

So I devised a plan to combat and take on the MAGA movement heading into 2024. I put that plan in writing and pitched it to the same former Republican groups I worked with in 2020. While they saw the value in what I had in mind, they are PACs and political consultants. They make their money by raising huge sums from big donors and making ads. The project I had in mind to fight back against MAGA wasn’t going to make them any money - it was going to cost them. But I felt that the money they would have invested in my project would have been far more effective than throwing another million down the cumulative $2 billion dollar rabbit hole of ads during that cycle.

After 6 months of being unable to persuade any of them to invest in the team I wanted to put together to go after MAGA, I eventually expressed my frustrations on Twitter that I really had a great plan, wasn’t a grifter or trying to get rich, I thought that plan was a hell of lot more effective than anything else being done for a fraction of the cost, but it didn’t fit neatly into any box that would fit into a consultant’s business model. The main problem was that I was a busy full-time practicing lawyer and the only way I was going to be able to do it was to walk away from that after 29 years. I just needed someone to replace that income and hire the team I wanted.

A few months went by and Ben Meiselas called me. He said that he read what I wrote and had been thinking about it a lot. He also wanted to leave the practice of law and do this full time by starting a pro-democracy independent media company with his brothers. He had been thinking about a way to merge that idea with my plan, where the team would take on MAGA and do many of the things I had in mind, but also writing about it and chronicling our work hoping that people would support it and we could fund it with grass roots support.

I didn’t really want to work for a PAC or political consultants, because they have their own agenda that is a bit different from mine. Even though Ben’s concept wasn’t exactly what I had in mind, it was pretty close and made a lot of sense to me the more I started thinking about it. But the most important thing for me was knowing that the brothers were authentic and had their hearts in the right place. This was a big move for me and I was only going to make it if everything was right. I hate phonies, grifters and frauds - as you can probably tell from my writing. It is one of the reasons why I despise MAGA.

What I learned over time in watching them and listening to them was that the Meidas boys were the real deal. They were honest, extremely hardworking, dedicated, principled and fearless. I felt that I was those things as well and it was a perfect fit. I would not have gone to work for them if I ever felt they were any different. So we began to assemble a great team of similar people who brought different skills to the table, and got to work.

Eventually I seized upon the idea to focus on writing the daily bulletins after the election. While it is a tremendous amount of work every day, I felt it was the best way to give people a snapshot into the world that I have monitored every day since 2020 across many different platforms. I also did it because I did not see anyone else out there in any media company doing anything like it. With my column you really get such a broad spectrum of political news and events that you simply cannot find anywhere else. That was my goal.

I hope now you have a better perspective on where I am coming from and how I got here. We may not agree on everything, but I bet we agree on most things - the things that really matter. Hopefully, even when you disagree with something I write or say, you will also now recognize that it comes from a place of good intentions, and it is not that important that we agree on everything.

That is why I don’t necessarily make heroes or villains out of current or former Republicans who stand up to Trump because of their past positions. The political landscape in America continues to change rapidly. I believe that a serious realignment has been happening between the parties and will continue to happen. Some demographics and groups who have been taken for granted by each party continue to move away from them for a variety of reasons. The party that shuns people because of their past positions or current differences on one or two issues will be the party that loses this battle over time.

I think ultimately we are all trying to get to the same place, which is returning our country to some sense or normalcy and decency by relegating this toxic political movement called MAGA to a fringe party by relentless truth telling to discredit it. It is a long and difficult path, but one we at Meidas have chosen to take with you. Unlike many, I never viewed any one election cycle as being decisive in this struggle. It will take at least a decade, maybe two. But I’m in this for the long haul because I know we are on the right side of history.