#i think that’s natural for hunt but i think with claire it really plays into her proudness + it bothers her how she

[hsslilly-blog]

in my beautiful version i think hunt offered claire the lead role in the last duchess in 2016. i love nepotism and cronyism <- that’s their entire relationship if you think about it. but she refused it because: 1. she’s very proud and 2. she actually wanted to build her career first. i think her acting career is literally the only thing in her life that she would not take the easy road. it’s something too dear to her. and well it’s basically all she has. i think claire would hate to have her career defined as a director’s lead actress from that point on instead of a lead actress in a movie period. maybe when she’s more established he can put her in whatever film he wants to. and he will. but anyway she only accepts the role after she gets her first oscar nom in 2018. notice how his loser ass waited three years (release date in 2019)

related to this as well, i think claire would hate to be known as hunt’s something in general. that’s one of the issues she had with marrying him. i mean barely anyone knows they’re together anyway before they get engaged. i do think this is something that kinda stems from the genesis of their relationship, but it’s also a claire thing. like i said, she’s very proud. she gets his surname but you will Never see her referring to herself as Claire H*nt or using his surname in any shape or form. i won’t either. it feels super weird who even is this person. not my beautiful princess Claire Swanson

[avirxy]

115. "Please don't touch me." But Werewolf Claire? (I love ur au btw)

She wakes up with blood in her mouth, cracked and dried along her lips, stained in rivulets down the hollow of her throat.

Claire blinks, wincing as she turns her head away from searing sunlight overhead.

It parts through the leaves, glinting across dry, withered underbrush. Spring is approaching but cold still nips and bites at the foliage, making it an off wicker brown that soaks up everything.

She doesn’t immediately see anyone or anything, just endless woodland. Curling her fingers into the soft earth the trickling sound of running water hisses nearby, not man made, to rough and tumbling.

The stumbling trip is made in short bursts of leaning against nearby trees, her feet catching along roots that rise from the ground. But she sees it eventually, slightly sloping lower into the earth.

Claire drags herself to the bank, aching for a drink, to get this—disgusting, tangy…sweet blood out of her mouth and off her hands.

It’s under her fingernails, wedged along each bed.

She doesn’t recognize the creek either, sandy little outcroppings, the trees, sometimes she can piece together a relative location, like once she woke up near the lookout or by those weary abandoned straggler cabins belonging to some sort of nature preserve.

The unknowing scares her, of what she did, or didn’t do.

Ice cold water stings her skin, but the want for a drink is far outweighing any chill she’s experiencing. It’s easier to focus on, keep the task simple so her mind can’t stray.

Claire almost doesn’t care as it drips in-between her fingers, soaking her ruined clothes.

She hears him long before she sees him, as she’s cupping another palm full of water, the twigs he keeps stepping on, his rushed breaths.

Something could hunt him down so easily, in the woods, where the beast knows best, it could be on his back before he has the chance to defend himself.

Jim’s an incredibly capable fighter, and part of her knows his rush is to reach her, uncaring with the noise he’s stirring up. But he couldn’t stop her when the moon hangs full and heavy in the sky if he tried, and he wouldn’t.

Even if it hunted him he’d play offensive, Jim would never hurt her and that terrifies her, because she knows the wolf doesn’t hold the same values.

She could end up over his body one of these days.

Claire’s already seen enough of that in her nightmares.

Ones that keep her sleepless and cagey, desperately fiddling with the tab of an energy drink before first period because she can’t close her eyes without seeing flashes of what might be true or not.

He’s breathing hard when he crests the edge, a tattered bag slung over his shoulder. Toby calls it something really stupid and joking, a recovery bag but the exact name is blanking her right now, too early for her mind to fully be slotted back into place.

Housing whatever Jim has carefully packed into it for her today. His eyes widen at the sight of her, relief the only emotion spread across his face.

It should be disgust she thinks bitterly, using her sharp nails to scrape at the dried blood still sticking to her wrists, but she can’t get it all off, even days later the ghost of the feeling lingers, the guilt.

Claire swears the blood is still on her hands sometimes, soaked into her skin as a reminder.

“I got turned around twice,” He talks so light, so softly, “this magic compass could definitely use some tweaking.”

He’s also awful with directions so, the cards are stacked against him.

He kneels down, carefully slipping the bag off his shoulder. Jim’s sword sits at his hip, he doesn’t take any chances after one month when a Ogre decided no one was allowed to cross his bridge without losing a limb. Funny it wasn’t a troll.

It’s never been used against her, not yet, likely not ever, not willingly.

His heartbeat thumps in her ears, so loud it’s almost enticing, closer still he approaches, bringing with him that—

Gold flashes violently across her vision and Claire shies away instantly, inhaling sharply.

“Please don’t touch me.”

It’s not that she doesn’t want his comfort, his touch. She’s covered in someone…something’s blood though.

And his heartbeat is far too leering.

Jim doesn’t press, he never does, gaze flitting across her face worriedly. Sitting down in the mud there’s ample space between, he’s safer that way.

Claire stares at her reflection, watching it twist and warp as the water ripples, just like last night. The nearly unrecognizable figure stays human though, untamed brown hair, the blaring strip of white. Her eyes look weird though, fighting between flits of gold.

“Did I…”

“No,” He assures steadily. “You stayed to the east of town the entire time, never got close, Darci had a spell going all night.”

Her bottom lip has been worn raw from the drag of her teeth. “And you didn’t find anything?”

Jim seems to infer what she’s asking. “It was probably an animal.”

“And if it wasn’t?”

“Claire, I don’t think you’d do that.”

She wouldn’t, but the wolf would, it did, she still doesn’t think Toby’s fully forgiven her for Mr. Fluffy, the poor thing was found mauled in a ditch not long after the full moon a few months ago.

“Why do you keep doing this for me?”

He wakes up before dawn, or maybe he doesn’t even sleep, treks through mud and grime, exposes himself to the danger of the woods.

All to find her.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I don’t know how you stand it.”

Claire doesn’t phrase it as a question, because she already knows the answer. If it were him, instead of her, if he was cursed to become a monster, to roam the woods under burning moonlight she’d do everything in her power to help him.

He smiled softly. “You can’t chase me off with a little blood,”

Would she chase him off with the fact that this is forever, there’s no cure, there’s nothing in the world that could possibly help her.

“Claire?”

The tears burning at the edges of her eyes are becoming harder to fight off, blurring her peripheral.

She tries to swallow the thick, wallowing knot in her throat unsuccessfully.

“Hey,” He breathes in a whisper, fast and worried.

“Can I?”

She fights with herself for several moments before nodding, squeezing her eyes shut.

Jim grasps one of her bloodstained hands, clasping his fingers across her own and Claire feels fresh tears sting her eyes, it’s done so gently she trembles at the force of it.

“It’s okay,” He murmurs as the first of many sobs escape past her teeth.

“Claire, it’s okay.” Jim repeats as she twists on the bank and grasps the edges of his shirt, hating herself for getting blood on his clothes.

His arms wrap around her, carefully, holding her up as Claire cries, burying her face in the space between his neck and shoulder.

She hates it—

She hates that she’s crying in front of him.

Claire hates that she can’t stop herself, that she can’t wait an hour until she’s sitting in shower as the water rubs her skin raw to sob, to cry until her voice is hoarse and her eyes are so blurry with tears it’s hard to see.

Jim just keeps murmuring the same two words, over and over.

Gently reminding her, staining his hands with blood just like her’s already are.

[dreadsuitsamus]

ill | Kūgo Ginjō x Reader |

author's note: this has been in the drafts for a while and i finally got the right inspiration to finish it! this man just oozes sex appeal and charm and is magnetizing in the worst of ways and i'm addicted to him. this was initially inspired by "it makes me ill" by nsync lol i just think the jealousy aspect is very him and i loooooove a jealous man

pairing: kūgo ginjō x fem!reader

warnings: jealousy, possessiveness, nsfw, oral fem!receiving, fingering, a bit of a toxic relationship, cheating

Ginjō's in his element as people surround him, the thumping bass only propelling him to further move around and offer up some of his best smiles to the pretty ladies while his handsome cologne enchants them. He's not particularly hunting tonight, opting for a more casual evening with plenty of flirting to satisfy his ego instead, though naturally if an opportunity were to arise, he'd snatch it up in less time than it'd take for his heart to beat.

His smug, gorgeous smile is wiped clean off, however, as he's now left with quite the conundrum on his hands.

Kūgo Ginjō is nothing if not an informed man, and his tabs on you are quite kept. Breakup or not, he's aware of big changes in your life, and even the small ones. Your social media is still quite accessible to him, he's got friends everywhere— not to mention that smile of his is as dangerous as it is captivating. So, the man on your arm isn't news to him. He's got his name, address, and his job already scouted out as he lies in wait, daring the guy to cause you even a small amount of harm so he can ruin his life in every aspect imaginable, and then beat him to a pulp after.

But this is the first time Ginjō has seen you with your new boyfriend in person, and an ugly, green feeling morphs his features into something hard and angry. Simply put, the man is not good enough for you. No man is, not even himself, but that guy certainly isn't it. You're so pretty tonight, dressed in a sexy, royal blue dress that stops only midway down your thighs, and the twinkling of your jewelry in the light catches Ginjō's dark eyes just as much as your alluring figure does— all of it, the earrings, necklace and bracelets, Ginjō bought for you. Not a single piece of your outfit is new, and as Ginjō's eyes flick to the worthless schmuck you're dating, it doesn't surprise him that the man hasn't even got the sense to buy you even a cheap ring from Claire's, just to give you something new, just to try.

The guy has no style himself, and really no business at this party. He's there as your plus one. Put so simply, Kūgo Ginjō would never be caught so lacking.

Ginjō steels himself with a sinister, amused glint in his eye as he approaches with a smirk. You notice him first, and the way your mouth drops at the sight of your tall, strikingly handsome ex-boyfriend is quite pleasing to Ginjō, his ego stroked magnificently. "Small world.”

“Kūgo…” You blink in disbelief— has he gotten more handsome in your time apart?

His lips flash his prettiest, most gorgeous, panty-dropping smile; it’s never failed him once, especially not when he aimed it your way. It’s a low, dirty tactic against your absolutely clueless lover for sure— it’s just too bad that he doesn’t care. Playing by the rules and using above-board tactics didn’t get him where he’s at now, and it didn’t get you here either. After all, Kūgo was with someone else when you first met him, and just a few weeks later he was in your bed and soundly in love with you.

“Can I get you a drink?” He hums lowly, ignoring the way your boyfriend has been spluttering since he first approached you. He’s honestly quite irrelevant to tonight’s new plan, despite his role as the second biggest obstacle in his way.

The first would be swallowing that pill called pride and admitting that he was wrong.

“Um…” Nervously, you glance over at your boyfriend. The poor thing has intimidation written all over his features, and it’s frankly embarrassing in the face of your former lover. You knew this man could never match the power, the charisma, the charm and natural pull that Ginjō has, but this is bordering on pathetic. When seeking out a new man after your explosive breakup with Kūgo, you weren’t after a copy of the man at all, and it seemed that Charles was fairly ideal. He’s got a good job, he’s sweet to you… But he lacks the things that made your relationship with Kūgo so fun. What’s love without a little bit of toxicity? Where’s the rage a man should have in the face of another man flirting with his woman? The balls to tell Ginjō he should fuck right off and leave you both alone? Goodness, where is the energy in this man??

Nice guys are so boring.

Charles is lacking, but showing Kūgo that you’ve downgraded in his absence isn’t an option. Slipping your hand into Charles’ sweaty palm, you shake your head. “No thank you, Kūgo. It was nice to see you, though.”

Ginjō’s eyes narrow ever so slightly to only barely mask his anger. You’re going to play hard to get? As if you could last a night of his advances! The moment you’re separated from the schmuck, it’ll be game over and your nights will be spent in Kūgo’s bed once again. He never should have let you go in the first place, but the past isn’t for him to worry about; scouting and creating opportunities is all that’s on his mind as you walk away from him. He smirks to himself as he watches you swipe your palm over the fabric of your gorgeous dress: the night is long and you’ll be anticipating him. What sort of man is Kūgo Ginjō if not one to meet the expectations of a beautiful woman?

You’ll be quite ripe for the picking soon enough. For now, Ginjō retreats to the bar for a drink and the crowd of pretty ladies that beckon him closer.

The women surrounding Ginjō would all drop dead, should looks be able to kill. None of them could ever keep up with the man they’re hoping to sleep with, in the bedroom or otherwise. You’re almost petty enough to warn them that he’s a Scorpio, of all signs, as that alone would have nearly any woman running, you think. And it apparently did at some point, seeing as Ginjō initially lied about his birthday to you! That damn man thinks of everything…

Your leg bounces as you hug the wall of the room. Bringing Charles here was a mistake, but coming to an exclusive gathering alone wouldn’t be a good look. You knew Kūgo would be here tonight and that left you with what felt like no choice, though regret seeped into your bones from the very moment you laid eyes on that bastardly ex-boyfriend. You’d have been better off not coming at all; Kūgo is in your mind now. You know it, he knows it. He’ll tease all night long now, allow any random woman with a decently sized rack on his arm and buy all the drinks he wants to, all while knowing you’re bored in the corner without him. Why doesn’t he ever seem to lose?

“I’m going to the bathroom, love.” You murmur to Charles, pointedly heading in the direction opposite the lavatories, not that he’s able to make heads or tails of anything in this room right now. Poor thing, you should really just tell him to go home and that you’ll call in the morning at this rate. This isn’t his scene, he warned you of that after your invitation and yet you insisted things would be fine. How foolish of you to put him up against someone so far out of his league.

An empty balcony proves to be hard to find, but the fresh air cooling the embarrassment and nausea from the pit in your stomach makes the effort worth it once you’re all alone. The night is cold and dark, not even the moon or a single twinkling star in the sky now. Shivers rip through you, though the cold doesn't get the chance to settle into your bones as the sound of the balcony doors opening floods you with white-hot anticipation disguised as anxiety.

Strong hands cover your own as they curl over the balcony railing, a familiar, handsome cologne enveloping you as soft, sure lips start pressing kisses to your exposed back, slowly trailing them higher towards your shoulders and neck. Each press of his lips lingers against your hot skin, never pulling away before the next drag upwards. Goosebumps begin to cover you, each nerve lighting up when Ginjō next kisses you. Charles could never work you like this, not if he tried every day for the rest of his life. Pausing the trail of kisses to nip at your earlobe, Kūgo’s voice is low. “Come back to me.”

“Why the hell would I do that?” There isn’t enough heart behind your words and you know he knows it. He hurt you, absolutely, but the burning rage you felt then isn’t here now. Perhaps it’s the atmosphere, a result of the embarrassment you feel having brought along a man that could never be what you really want him to be. Only one man could be the one you want, the one you crave and desire even though he’s the worst-

Ginjō’s arms wrap around you tightly, tugging you back against his strong body, his lips pressed warmly to your cheek as he sways the both of you. “Because you want me.”

“Oh, really?” Your cheeks are hot as your heart thumps harshly against your ribs. “Your ego has you delusional, if you think that’s the case. Why would I want you when I have a boyfriend, hm? One that’s nice to me, one that treats me like a queen!”

Kūgo chuckles deeply. He expected a chase; he’d be disappointed if you didn’t make him work for it. “Tell me to leave, then.”

“Kiss my ass, Kūgo.”

“If you insist.” He hums, sinking to his knees before you can protest. Your dress is soon bunched up to your hips, that beautiful ass on display as Kūgo presses a kiss to each of your cheeks. Biting heartily, Kūgo runs his hands up and down the length of your smooth legs, squeezing at your thighs and calves and just under your rear with every pass.

Licking your lips, you turn around, Ginjō’s nose bumping the front of your thong as he inches closer. You should’ve known he’d take you literally. Hiking a leg over his shoulder, you grip the guard rail tightly. “Make yourself useful, since you’re already down there.” God knows you haven’t received even halfway decent head since the breakup with Kūgo, and he owes you at least that much. He's the one that ruined you for any other man to begin with— his sex appeal, charm, and frankly that phenomenal tongue work of his is far too powerful.

Ginjō chuckles darkly. “You said it yourself: You have a boyfriend. He can take care of you, can’t he?”

Huffing, you look away with a hot face. “You already know he can’t.”

“Obviously.” Kūgo wets his lips, tugging aside the thin bit of fabric covering your cunt. “But you know I had to hear you say it, baby.”

“Your mouth is too busy talking.” You gripe, threading your fingers into those dark locks of his. He allows you to guide him closer to your pussy and he inhales deeply at the scent of you, enjoying what he's found: This pretty cunt has been unhappy for far too long. It’s only fair he makes it right, being the cause of such dissatisfaction.

Licking a long, broad stripe over your slit, Kūgo’s quick in remedying the situation. He’s deep in the taste of you, growling through the licks and slurps as he services the need he’s created. And as much as he owes this to you, as much as it’s his fault… The idea creeps into his head that you let someone else, a loser, a schmuck, touch what’s his. Even though it wasn’t good, you let that man try and take what’s Kūgo’s.

Two thick fingers prod your entrance, the slick of your own creation mixed with Ginjo's saliva allowing them easy access inside of your tight heat. He moves them at a punishing pace, pumping as his breath fans over your clit with every filthy word he spits. “You missed this, hm? Juicy pussy just can't get what it needs from anyone else; especially not that dork downstairs. Serves you fucking right. You thought giving away what's mine would work out in your favor. Shame on you, babygirl. Should've stayed, should've let me make it right… You know I'm good for it.”

Your fingers clench the steel railing that holds you up, the cold metal harshly chilling your sensitive palms. You'd forgotten just how good it feels to have someone between your legs, to have Kūgo Ginjō on his knees before you and servicing you as you deserve. It's a mere start in this apology sex tour, but unsurprisingly he's starting strong. “‘S all your fucking fault, asshole… You're the one that didn't make time for me, the one that embarrassed me and let me down!”

Kūgo’s lips wrap around your clit, suckling while his tongue flicks at the sensitive bud. Your moans echo into the chilly night as you toss your head back and shake against your ex's face. His mouth and fingers work in perfect tandem on your cunt, pushing you to the cusp of orgasm…

And then he pulls away, standing up and slowly rubbing the pads of his fingertips against your clit, ruining the pace of your oncoming orgasm. Looping his arm around your waist, his lips find your ear as he whispers quietly, chillingly even. You can feel just how angry he is now; he'd beat that poor man downstairs to a pulp if he ever saw him within a mile radius of you again, or worse.

“You tried to piss me off, to spite me, and look where you ended up. Getting finger-fucked on a balcony, by the man you left, while the loser you thought would replace me hyperventilates in a corner downstairs. What did we learn, baby?”

“That you're the s-same bastard you've always been… And don't t-think I'll forget about what you did.”

Ginjō levies a hefty smack to your pussy before backing away again, this time turning for the door entirely and leaving your dripping cunt in the cold. Turning his head as his palm settles on the handle, his mouth glistens in the moonlight with that devious, gorgeous smirk plastered over his face. “Come to bed tonight and you will.”

He's not even halfway down the hall before you're by his side again, leaving the party the way you should've come in: hand-in-hand, together and with no thought lent towards any other.

[prentissluvr]

OKAY SIBLING WINCHESTER THOUGHTS HAVE ARRIVED!!

like sam and dean with a younger sibling thats just a little bit closer to sam than dean??? like DONT GET ME WRONG PLEEK ☹️☹️🙏🏽🙏🏽 i love dean like so much but like sammy i feel like would be such a great big brother.

like younger sibling reader just always goes to sam first for comfort or advice or just to hang IDK but big brother!sammy 🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽🙏🏽

- alex💫

HEHE YAYYY

i mean... this is what i think about all the time because sam's my favorite! clearly lmao. i agree!!!! i think sam would be an amazing big brother. we see dean in that position a lot more (i'm talking in terms of side characters) because he has a very very natural older brother instinct because of sam. but if they have a younger sibling that they grew up with, then sam would have that naturally himself as well! he's also just quieter and more reserved so i think that plays into why we see dean acting as an older brother figure more to other characters as well. that, and they tend to be characters more aligned to dean in certain ways (like charlie and claire)

but! we also know that sam absolutely has that protective instinct, and he is a great great great older sibling (or parental) figure!! we totally see this with jack! sam's definitely better at trying to talk and figure out emotional things (not that he's great per se LOL) but he does try to help out jack, understand him, talk through things with him, and comfort him when he's having a hard time. especially when they first meet!

so i really really see a younger sibling who's closer to sam and goes to him more for advice because he's more willing to actually talk through things + gives good advice!! he's also comfortable being a comforter. he's always great at reassuring even random people when things are scary or difficult.

plus i can really imagine a youngest sibling who has interests and maybe a personality that's closer to sam! and they're likely closer in age, i imagine a two year difference! because that way, sam still wouldn't have memories of mary, along with reader, because people generally don't retain memories until about four. so that's definitely something that sam and reader would be closer over and they'd both feel that distance from john and dean. maybe reader tries to get out of the hunting life like sam did! and sam helps them <3

also!! i think a lot a lot about half-sibling!reader who by some circumstance has to stay with the boys after meeting later in their lives. and i think they'd end up closer to sam as well, once again, especially if their interests and personality align closer to sam's. generally, sam gives people a chance quicker than dean, so they wouldn't have as rocky a start. and sam would also be very aware that reader is likely struggling a lot to adjust with living with them and this life.

and this is assuming that reader grew up decently normal, so they're more likely to notice that dean sometimes does some really fucked up or not normal things (not that's sam's normal either LOL but.... sometimes dean does shit and i'm like.... huh. maybe don't.) anyways! i just think it would be easier for someone a little more normal to get closer to sam LMAO

and yeah i'm just super obsessed with older brother sam <333 i think he'd be the best!! dean's amazing, especially when reader needs an escape or the likes, but yeah! sammy <3333

TYSM FOR SENDING THIS IN MY LOVE <333 i really hope to write more winchester sibling fics soon <33 i have a few ideas brewing <3

[ethanhuntfemmefatale]

Given your username I kinda want ur thoughts on Ethan Hunt And Gender. Bc I'm always thinking about Ethan and Gender.

OUGH arc thank you for asking this I am literally constantly thinking about Ethan hunt and gender. Ethan’s relationship with masculinity is insane (as you’ve spoken to eloquently before, he uses it as a persona! It’s not even one of his favorite ones!) His gender is sooo personal to me because it feels crazy close to my own feelings about gender and the way I experience it.

Thoughts on the eternally developing thesis of Ethan Hunt and gender:

In my mind (I can say this to you arc cause you know RGU) Ethan hunt experiences gender in the same way that Utena does. His gender is more “prince” than “man” or “woman”—he identifies as a protector. Which is traditionally stereotyped as a masculine thing, but he approaches it in a way that doesn’t feel clearly gendered. I don’t think that gender is something he thinks about in relation to his own private self. Gender is something he uses, to play into expectations, to influence people’s opinions of him, etc. Ethan generally doesn’t think much about his identity outside of spywork (in later movies) and as a result by 4,5,6,7 he settles into a natural state that feels very ungendered to me, although he takes on gender when he has to, with varying degrees of comfort. (The John Lark performance clearly doesn’t sit well, despite Lark being—in behavior if not in backstory—fairly spot on the action hero stereotype.) Ethan seems most insecure in his gender during the movies where he’s searching for an identity that isn’t “agent of the IMF” (read: prince). He tries on “doting husband” in MI3, and “homme fatale” in MI2, and neither of them totally…feel secure. He’s trying to do something, and he’s very good at becoming different people, so he pulls it off, but it means he’s subtly Performing all the time. In MI2 and MI3 I feel like that subtle performance of gender adds to this sense of anxiety, this sense that Ethan is trying really hard in all the scenes he’s in, and it creates an extra element of stress that wears on me through the films. In Ghost Protocol, he grows his hair out, and he seems at ease in his body. Ever time I see the opening of that movie I just feel this overwhelming sense of relief. He’s not trying to be a certain kind of guy anymore. Arguably, he’s not trying to be a guy at all.

This goes well with Ethan’s whole “priest in the shadows” thing. He doesn’t have a societal role to play outside of “wandering protector”. And that’s comfortable for him! He likes that! Whenever he has to fit into the world things get weird, and he puts on masculinity like a suit to help him out with that. But on his own he’s something different.

I have endless thoughts on this but I’ll stop here for tonight cause I have to go to bed. Tomorrow I might post an addition about MI1 ethan and gender because that’s a whole other can of worms (highly influenced by his relationship with jim and Claire imo.) Thank you so much for this ask<333

[estrel]

Are You Happy? (Save Them Some Pie)

HAPPY 42ND BIRTHDAY, DEAN!! this is my gift to him for being my comfort person that i would hug on sight if given the chance 💗 love you dude, may you indulge in copious amounts of pie. ~ 1.5k words.

also dedicated to marlo ( @heller-jensen ), jace ( @thiscastielhasflown ) and dee ( @castee-yel ) thanks for bein real ones <3

[READ ON AO3]

The day had already started out weird enough.

Dean had woken up drenched in sweat, mind racing with the last lingering thoughts of a nightmare. A vamp nest that he and Sam had been hunting, Dean dying in the most ludicrous way possible, and driving Baby down a long road for an indiscriminate amount of time in a supposed heaven that his father (his father) also co-habited. Needless to say, the dream had come out of nowhere, but it was easy enough to forget once the smell of bacon made its way into his room.

Breakfast was hardy and quick, with enough coffee to fuel him for the rest of the day as he skimmed the internet for a possible case. He had the itch, but apparently, looking around at the three sleepy faces around him at the table, no one else did.

He packed up anyway, preparing for what would likely be an easy salt-n-burn; he’d be gone for only a few hours, tops. On his way out, Cas stops him before he can scale the stairs, arm gripping his shoulder tightly. There’s a memory, briefly—the same hand, the same shoulder. Blood.

Dean looks down at it. Back at Cas.

“…Yeah?”

After a moment, Cas lets go. He steps back half an inch as if he had forgotten himself. “Just…be careful.”

Dean nods, moving to leave again, taking the awkwardness as both a Cas thing and a morning thing and content to leave it at that. 

“And,” Cas says. Dean turns back.

“Come home.”

//

Dean picks up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Dean, hey! It’s, uh. It’s me. Krissy?”

Dean feels himself begin to smile, mindful of the road ahead of him. He balances his phone on his thigh while he drives.

“Hey, kid! Long time no call. How are you? Everything okay?”

The case had been as easy as Dean had suspected, but he had that familiar muscle ache and heaviness to his eyes that solo cases usually gave him.

Besides that, he was getting a little confused about all of the calls he’d been getting today. Before Krissy, it had been Garth, and before that, Claire and Jody and…

“Uh, yeah, dude, everything’s good. Um. How are you? How’s Sam and that angel of yours?”

Dean swallows to keep from choking, or potentially crashing the car.

“They’re good. Yeah…good.” Alive, he wants to say, back from the dead, probably in the DeanCave watching Scooby Doo without him. “Sorry, Krissy, ah,” he steps off the break to make a left, “I’m actually on my way home right now. Was there something I could help you with?”

There’s a pause, and Dean chances a glance at his phone to see if the call had dropped off. It hadn’t.

“Krissy?”

“I,” she huffs in what sounds like a laugh, “Nothing, Dean. You get home safe, okay?”

“Sure thing.”

“And hey,” Krissy says, before he can say his goodbyes, “Uh, make sure you save some pie for everybody else.”

Dean’s eyebrows furrow a bit, but he laughs. “I will. Take care of yourself.”

“Bye, Dean.”

“Ba-bye.”

//

Dean’s still mulling over the pie comment when he nearly falls down the stairs, squinting into the darkness of the Bunker.

“What the hell?” he asks, voice hoarse around the high note. “Guys?”

When there’s no immediate answer, Dean’s instincts kick in. He pulls out his gun and gently drops his bag, waiting a moment for his eyes to adjust so he can try for the stairs.

Before he can, though, the lights kick back on. His gaze locks onto the scene below, and Dean slowly lowers his gun.

“Happy birthday!” Jack says, the sound of a party horn whining shortly after. Beside him, Cas pulls the string of a party popper, and he jerks as bits of confetti fall around him and into his hair.

Skeptically, Dean starts descending down the stairs.

“You…this…” he manages.

“It’s your birthday, dumbass,” Sam says, swooping forward to slap a party hat on Dean’s head as soon as he’s made the landing. He smiles.

“Oh…kay.” Around them, the Bunker looks pretty normal. The only difference is the array of pies on one of the library tables, next to what looks like home made rice krispie treats, and a couple of birthday-themed plates and napkins. That, and the confetti from Cas’ party popper that litters the floor. “Are you sure?”

Cas frowns at Sam. “Sam was certain. I can’t imagine he’d get the day wrong, but he has had quite severe brain trauma over the years. Perhaps…” Cas reaches out to Sam’s head, probably intent on searching his brain for said trauma, or for the date of Dean’s actual birthday. Sam swats his hand away.

“Hey, no. My trauma is fine. Dean,” Sam redirects his attention to him, “It’s today. Did you really forget?”

Dean shrugs, trying to piece the day together from the beginning. Shitty dream, good breakfast, the three of them weirdly insisting on staying at the Bunker…the calls. Save some pie for everybody else.

He laughs. “So that’s what she meant.”

“That’s what who meant?” Jack asks. He’s wearing a party hat, too, with ridiculous stripes of blue and pink and purple patterned onto it. It matches the one currently strapped to Dean’s own. He shakes his head.

“You’re telling me all of you knew? This whole time? And…and…” He looks around again, pointing vaguely at the table and the confetti. “You put this all together for me?”

Sam shoves his arm playfully. “Course we did. Now quit pouting and come eat some pie.”

//

Sam is fast asleep, sprawled out on the couch hours later with one of his hands brushing the floor. Dean thinks he spots drool on the pillow underneath him. 

Cas has been quiet next to Dean, at least since Jack had disappeared into the kitchen an hour ago and hadn’t come back, thoughtfully tracing the lip of his beer bottle with his finger. 

“Something on your mind?” Dean asks, because he wants to know.

Cas continues unbothered. Scooby Doo reruns play in the background. Dean almost repeats the question, but Cas eventually lifts his gaze to stare at him.

“Are you happy?” 

Dean presses his mouth shut. Licks his lips. He takes just as long to answer.

“You know what,” he smiles. “I think I am.”

Cas smiles back at him, soft and genuine. The skin around his eyes crinkling tells more than the gentle upturn of his mouth. 

Dean swallows, nervously putting his beer down and turning it a few times until his fingers are wet with the condensation. 

“What, uh. What about you?” He swallows again. “You happy?”

What he really wants to ask, though, is if they were good. If, after recent events, they were still the same. If Cas was still fine with “just being.”

He’s quiet again. Dean thinks he deserves that, and tries to pay attention to the TV, but the voice in his head is too loud. Cas has to tap his knee to get his attention again.

“Hm?”

“I was saying,” he moves his hand back, “that I’m sorry I didn’t get you a gift.”

Dean stares at him. “What are you talking about?”

Cas looks confused, like he’s about to repeat what he just said. Dean stops him short with a wave of his hand. 

“Dude, you just got back from the dead, alright? That’s—that’s gift enough to last me a lifetime. Don’t worry about a gift.”

Cas frowns, and Dean rolls his eyes. It’s another few moments of tense silence, until Dean breaks it, his heart pounding in his chest.

“But, uh,” he says, “I might have a gift for you.”

“Dean, we don’t share a birthday. It’s not customary to gift me something, especially when I haven’t given you—“

“Cas,” he groans, officially putting his beer aside and facing him. Cas’ features are lit up with the colors of the TV. Dean reaches a hand up to pluck confetti from his hair, a green piece that he’d been eyeing all night. Hesitating, he lets his hand fall to Cas’ face, smoothing over his cheek and jaw. The TV paints his cheekbone purple. Dean brushes his thumb over it. “Just...shut up and let me do this.” 

Cas tilts his head, eyebrows furrowed in that way of his, and Dean thinks he looks perfect. When he dips forward and presses their lips together, it’s perfect, perfect, perfect. He’s warm, his face is burning, eyes almost watering when he pulls away.

Dean lets his forehead rest on Cas’, heartbeat still crazy. He closes his eyes. “We can have it, Cas. This. We can have this.”

Cas takes Dean’s face in his hands, lifts it a little to bring them face to face again, so that he’s looking into Dean’s eyes.

“I’d like that, Dean,” he says, and his eyes are wet, too. Happy, Dean thinks.

“Your gift to me?” Dean manages, smile wobbly. He’s teasing, trying to bring down the weight of this without getting rid of all of it. He likes this type of adrenaline rush, different from any hunt he’s been on. Better.

Cas smiles. “I think technically it was you that gifted me, but, yes. My gift to you, if you’ll take it.”

“Gladly,” Dean says.

Cas hums back, brushing his fingers through the hair at the nape of Dean’s neck. “Happy birthday, Dean.” He leaves a kiss on his forehead.

Happy. 

Dean thinks, for the first time, as he pulls more confetti from Cas’ hair, that it actually is. 

—

tag list (ask to be added/removed):

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[closedcoffins]

since it’s an art day and not a writing day, here’s some blog related content that isn’t writing! presenting: how i think my muses would align in the magnus archives.

claire stanfield: the stranger. circus background notwithstanding, most people who either see him in action or fight against him stop to wonder if he’s human or some kind of monster, and his acrobatics have been describes as unnatural too many times for me to dismiss him. alternatively: the hunt, the slaughter.

maria barcelito: the slaughter. she attacks most people she sees on sight and her sense of self worth is tied to slicing and dicing. it wasn’t a difficult pick. alternatively: the hunt.

graham specter: the spiral. have you heard him make his little speeches? that’s a spiral guy if there’s ever been a spiral guy. a very spiralling story. you keep making your cars, funky little wrench man. alternatively: the desolation.

jacuzzi splot: the corruption. honestly, i’ve based this very loosely off the “toxic love” aspect of the corruption. people are naturally drawn to jacuzzi and his gang is inseparable, and i just think he’s too good of a guy to actively try doing malicious things, but i do think he could have fuckin bugs everywhere. alternatively: the desolation, the hunt.

nice holystone: the desolation. she likes bombs, gang. she likes bombs. alternatively: the corruption, the hunt.

huey laforet: the web. master manipulator 9000, has his fingers in all the pies, orchestrating things you don’t even know about. he could do fucked up little experiments as a webvatar. alternatively: the eye, the lonely, the flesh.

melvi dormentaire: the stranger. he’s a genetic clone of someone handpicked to make maiza uncomfortable, gang, i dunno what to tell you. also, the almost-human vibes. alternatively: the eye, the lonely.

luchino b. campanella: the web. he’s had control over the vast resources of the mask makers since he was a child, and he’s had to make himself good at it. he’s both the puppet and the puppetteer. alternatively: the stranger, the lonely.

luck gandor: the lonely. he’s caught between a few for me, but i think his general fear of apathy that sets him apart from everyone around him has sold me on lonely!luck, in the sense of being alienated from the people he cares about the most. alternatively: the eye, the web.

sham: the eye. there’s an incredibly strong argument for the stranger... but he was created as a spy network. his strengths lie in his ability to gather information. so, even if he may be a little uncanny, the eye wins it all for me. alternatively: the stranger, the web.

ronny schiatto: the eye. to be clear, he’d be a creature and not an avatar, but ronny’s entire deal is being omnipotent and, more than that, wanting to see how things around him play out. he’s the epitome of the eye’s whole deal; he sits and watches things play out from the sidelines because he wants to. alternatively: the dark, the vast, the extinction.

christopher shaldred: the stranger. what an interesting man. he could go in any number of ways, but i chose the stranger a. as a foil to claire and b. because of his strange desire to be above humanity but also to not be different from them. however, he’s maybe my candidate for most potential choices! alternatively: the corruption, the hunt, the slaughter, the buried, the flesh.

isaac dian: the spiral. i don’t think i need to explain myself on this one. alternatively: N/A.

ladd russo: the slaughter. yeah, so, again, not really much of an explanation to be had here. he likes killing people. what do you want from me. alternatively: the hunt, the desolation.

maiza avaro: the lonely. you could make a strong argument for several others, but the incident aboard the advena avis pushes him towards the lonely for me. he’s missing a lot of his friends and gretto and i think it could cause him to become prime lonely bait. alternatively: the eye.

jules upham: the buried. he just seems like a buried guy to me. alternatively: the dark.

chané laforet: the hunt. she was practically raised to take down all those that would oppose her father, so i think this tracks. alternatively: the lonely, the end.

gabriel & juliano barsotti: the hunt, both of them. they’re referred to as the mad dogs and our introduction to them is them going out on a chase for the people who kidnapped their charge. they are the hunt. one hundred percent. alternatively: the stranger.

pamela mccall: the buried. i don’t know what’s with all these bitches with anxiety but they all have buried vibes to me. alternatively: the hunt.

lana sutton: the vast! lana is something of an adrenaline junkie herself, and she rushes into things without thinking of the consequences because the consequences don’t matter to her. also, her and pamela are constantly bickering over everything, so. opposite entities! alternatively: the hunt.

sonja bake: the slaughter. uh......... yeah. alternatively: the hunt.

rachel jones: the eye. she’s a gopher from an information brokerage! her job is to be a nosy bitch and snoop around in things! alternatively: the end, the hunt.

molsa martillo: the web. i think you can ascribe the web to most successful mob boss characters---either that or the corruption, but i’d go with web here. despite the way he acts, molsa is pretty good at controlling the circumstances around him to keep the martillos out of trouble. just look at his deal with huey in 1935. alternatively: the corruption.

victor talbot: the hunt. are you kidding me? tma’s law enforcement corruption notwithstanding, talbot is the most aggressive person ever, and he’s ruthlessly pursuing and trying to detain huey laforet. alternatively: the eye.

kate gandor: the lonely. but in the way you walk on an empty streat and hear no sounds but a distant piano. i mean, seriously, her plot in drug and the dominos is all about the despair the lonely brings, both with the silent film collapse and with keith never being able to make it home. alternatively: the end, the extinction.

laz smith: the spiral. this guy idolizes madness above all else. sure, he’s a total fraud, but i think he’d be happy with the spiral. alternatively: the hunt, the stranger.

roy maddock: the corruption. it was a tough choice for him, though, but i think i’d like to focus more on the decay and decimation his addiction problem brought him than the whimsical world it created for him. alternatively: the stranger.

tick jefferson: the stranger. i think tick’s uncanniness would suit the stranger well, combined with his intense understanding of anatomy but failure to grasp the significance of emotions. i just think it would be neat. alternatively: the end, the eye.

mark twain: the eye!! i have put him in several places but i always circle back to the eye. he’s a notorious nosy bitch and he likes to ask people for interesting stories so he can write them down “for later”. alternatively: the vast, the stranger, the extinction.

roger zelazny: the extinction. listen, he time travels, i just think the best way to adapt that into tma stuff is to have him be an avatar of the fear relating to things existing and catastrophically changing after you’ve long died. alternatively: the end, the eye.

cyran azerrad kapral: the hunt. of course. he’s a vampire. alternatively: the stranger.

il dottore: the extinction: experiment doing motherfucker techologically advanced bitch. stupid ass fucking scientist. alternatively: the eye, the flesh.

yemevon: the end. fucking of course it was going to be the end. my goodness. alternatively: the dark.

[talesofargante]

The Guardian of Trollhunters Episode 7: Part 2 - An Offer He Can't Refuse

Pairing: Jim Lake Jr. x Liz Walker (OFC)

Episode Summary: Armed with an ancient troll-hunting tool, Jim and Toby set out to unmask the Changelings living among them while Liz confronts Jim about her forgotten childhood past.

Words: 1k

Warning: none (if I miss any warnings please lmk)

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

The following day, Liz skateboarded down the sidewalk, stopping nearby at the sight of Jim and Toby, who were waiting for the cars to pass. She kicks the tail-end of her skateboard into her hand and walks up to them. "Mornin', boys."

"Morning, Liz." Said boys greeted back, prompting Toby to speak up. "Say what we saw wasn't just an illusion, and they really did move it. How could we possibly find it?"

Once traffic was clear, they walked across the street as Jim replied. "Well, I don't think we're gonna be lucky enough to stumble on it again, Tobes. But one thing's for sure. That curator did not move it by herself."

"Maybe she had help!" Toby exclaimed. "Other changelings, perhaps?" 

Liz nodded. "Definitely. It could be anyone in Arcadia Oaks, even someone we know. But we need to find a way to reveal their true nature."

"How exactly are we going to do that?" Jim asked Liz, but just as she was about to reply, someone called out her name. "Liz!"

Turning around, Liz sees Claire jogging towards her. "Oh hey, Claire."

"Hey! What's up, Nunez?" Toby waved as Claire reached them. "Hey, Colby."

"It's Toby. Not that it matters. You can call me whatever you want." Toby leans on his bike nonchalantly before falling over, yelping. Before Liz could ask about Toby's wellbeing, Claire spoke up. "How are you feeling, Liz?"

"Well enough to return to school, unfortunately," Liz jokes.

"That's good because there has been a slight change in the play after we were looking for a certain someone." Claire glares over Liz's shoulder at Jim, who stands confused, pointing at himself. "You've been looking for me? Was it because I couldn't make it to rehearsal yesterday? Something kinda came up. Steve filled in. That's what understudies are for, right?"

Claire perked an eyebrow at Jim. "Uh, you haven't heard? Steve isn't the understudy anymore. You are. She's tired of you never showing up without an excuse, so she made Steve Romeo."

"No way!" Liz exclaimed as Jim argued. "Come on! But I memorized all my lines!"

"Doesn't matter. Ms. Janeth is on the warpath for you. I'd watch out." Claire warned Jim before tugging Liz along with her to their day's first class.

"Didn't Jim notify Ms. Janeth beforehand that he was going to miss rehearsal?" Liz asked. Claire sighs, shaking her head. "If he did, Ms. Janeth wouldn't have thrown a fit yesterday during rehearsal. Be grateful you were not there to see it, Liz. That woman is terrifying, and right now, she's out for blood – figuratively, I hope."

As the school bell rings, Liz glances over her shoulder, seeing Jim dash toward Ms. Janeth's classroom. Liz grimaced, seeing that Jim had math class with said teacher. 

Algebra + Ms. Janeth x Missing Rehearsals = Math Class of Doom. 

Yikes. Hope he makes it out alive.

***

After school, Liz catches up with a glum-looking Jim on her way out of campus. "Hey, Jim! I see you survived Ms. Janeth's "Math Class of Doom."

"And, now, she's given me a mountain of homework I hardly understand." Jim looked at the ground as she watched with a hint of concern.

"You know, what? I did honors algebra last year and was pretty okay at it. What if you came by the restaurant for a study sesh?" Liz offers, sweeping her hair back from her face as Jim stops his bike suddenly, shocked at the offer. "Wow! Really? Are you sure?"

"It's no problem at all. Since we both missed school yesterday, maybe we could work together on the classes we missed out on."

"But I don't want to trouble you more than I already have." Jim rubs his neck. 

"Oh, Jim, don't stress about it. I got your back, remember? We're in this together." Liz rested her hand on Jim's arm. He stares at her a moment until his lips curved into a smile, his once dull blue eyes shining bright under the afternoon sun. "Thanks, Liz."

For some unknown reason, seeing Jim's smiling expression sent a fluttering sensation to her stomach. Confused by her reaction, Liz pushes down the strange feeling and chuckled, lightly punching him.

"Come on, let's find Toby and get out of here. We have a changeling to catch."

Hello there!

I hope you enjoyed the second part of Episode 7! If you are interested in reading more, click on the links provided below!

This fanfiction story will be posted on Wattpad, Archive of Our Own, and Tumblr. However, Wattpad will serve as the original site for this story, so the latest updates will be there.

While reading, feel free to leave a comment [keep it negative-free, would you? thanks :)] or critique. I appreciate the feedback. And along the way, if you like the journey so far, leave a star, a kudos, or/and heart to vote! If you have any questions, feel free to ask as well and I’ll do my best to answer without giving any spoilers ;)

Again, thank you for taking the time to read this and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I did writing it.

Happy reading!

- Miss_Nightingale

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

[hawkland]

(Mostly) Destiel Fic Recs #5

This is a LONG recs post because it’s been a while since I did an update and I fell hard into reading one author’s work (DeanRH). In fact I could easily do a rec post just of their fics alone, but for this round I’m just going to pick out a handful of my absolute favorites so far, the ones I’d recommend to start out with, along with more other authors’ works I’ve especially enjoyed lately.

Absolution at the Five-and-Dime by DeanRH (125k)  - this is perhaps THEE DeanRH fic to start with if you want a good, long read with a little bit of everything (Roadtrips! Intriguing casefic! Americana! Tasty Dean/Cas pining! Wing!kink and unique angel lore! Kinky soul fisting and tentacles!) It’s kind of two of parallel stories in one: the first, a flashback to Dean and Sam's first year hunting on their own (as well as trying to avoid hunting, and John in general); the second on how Dean and Cas finally get together during an unusual case and when Dean is able to really let go of his past trauma and accept himself/accept love from Cas. 

What I love about DeanRH’s work is that they write from the unique point of view of a drifter, so they understand living on the road, traveling place to place, and the highs and lows of that life like no others I’ve encountered in SPN before. (The author’s notes are often as much fun to read as the stories themselves). They also write a kickass angel!Cas and never lose sight of his non-human traits and background. Their writing style is unique - almost poetic in nature, and I know some readers have found it difficult to get into. But it works really well for me in their SPN fic...gives it the flavor of oral story telling as might actually happen at a drifter’s camp (with one story written exactly as such). Be warned this particular fic does play up the idea of John Winchester being mentally abusive and Dean having to turn tricks when he was younger in order to support him and Sam, so there is some dark stuff. But as someone who grew up with mentally abusive parent, reading this was extremely cathartic to me and believably written (unlike some stories that go too over the top with abusive John, or just don't understand how that kind of abuse leaves lifetime psychological scars.)

The rest of this round’s recs below the cut.

Carnevale by DeanRH (18k) - Actually the first fic by this author I read, because I just couldn’t resist a story set in my favorite place in the world, Venice, Italy. Castiel is the Angel of Venice, banished there for so long he does not even know or remember the reasons why. But Carnevale season is the one time a year he can let his wings out - figuratively and literally. And during this particular Carnevale season, he meets an intriguing masked young American tourist there with his brother and their one night stand turns into something far more powerful than either expected. This one’s hot, romantic, and achingly sad at the end as it all ties together unexpectedly with canon-verse...though with a hint for the future so it’s definitely not totally sad. I loved how DeanRH clearly understands Venice as a fellow lover of the city, the side of it most tourists never see unless they spend a long time there. This story made me cry just from wanting to be back in Venice again.

Ice cream was sweeter, food more satisfying, everything was an epicurean delight. There was just something magical about Venice, and he had lived here in the city for hundreds of years, so the shine should have worn off by now.

But it didn't, and there was always something more, something wonderful to discover around the next corner. The painted eaves of a church. The beauty of two women dancing with flowers in their teeth across the Piazza San Marco one day, overcome by the sheer joy of just being there. The way the university students still created Venetian masks, like Castiel's extravagant volto mask and Dean's humble servetta muta, with crafts that had been handed down across the generations. The morning silence that lay against the stones.

Hard Landing by DeanRH (26.9k) - A bit similar in theme to Carnevale. A pre-series Dean and Sam are sight-seeing in Spain when an angel, struck by a babel-spell, crash lands right in front of Dean. A strange yet seriously hot encounter with the angel turns into something much more complicated when the brothers return home and realize something more serious is afoot and they are both trapped in the middle of it. This is another story where things are very much not as they seem at first (as fun as that is!) It features master strategist Cas at his best, with a side helping of delightful trickery care of Gabriel and Balthazar as they deal with Lucifer, Michael...and a few others along the way.

The Sacred Band of Thebes by DeanRH (14.5k) - The last DeanRH fic I’m gonna allow myself to include in this round up, because it’s just very soft and sweet and beautiful - for a story about Dean & Cas being magically transported back in time to ancient Sparta! This is another story infused with a great knowledge of place and history, with some wonderfully delightful original characters added in that make it all the more enjoyable to read.

And now on to some other authors, I promise!

IPAMIS OL OLPRIT by emmbrancsxx0 (56k). A really wonderful fic that take a different look at what might have happened with a temporarily resurrected John Winchester during Season 14. Dean & Cas are in an established relationship here, and John here isn’t too happy about it — though mostly because he sees Cas (and Jack) as monsters, the kind of monsters he spent his lifetime hunting. This is a great fic for the emotional complexity of how John, Dean and Cas are all handled. John isn’t a cardboard evil dad, Dean is struggling between his loyalty to his father and to Cas, and Cas is increasingly bitchy/frustrated at Dean still being so desperate for his father’s approval (and all the more complex for not just being a quietly suffering perfect supporting boyfriend.) There’s some great action sequences in this too along with the emotional angst and a delicious dose of hurt!Cas if that’s your thing (as it is for me :D)

Abrenuntio by Neonbat (51k). A very dark but compelling AU take on the/a apocalypse universe. Dean, Sam and John are all alive in this post-angel war-apocalyptic world. They are part of a group of human survivors fighting against the angel army when they manage to capture “Blue” — a particularly feared angel of death. Dean is tasked with bringing Blue in for interrogation and he becomes a prisoner in their camp after John is killed. As mentioned, this is a pretty dark/sad fic (with some rather gruesome torture scenes) but I still found it quite compelling as a look at how things could have gone in some other parallel universe. And somehow the author manages to make the Dean/Cas relationship come together despite them starting out as complete enemies. This is one of those AUs that works for me because the core of the characters really shine through despite the differences in the setting.

if it all fell to pieces tomorrow by spocklee (37k) - a gorgeous post-Empty rescue fic that takes an approach I haven’t really seen explored in detail before (despite being something I’ve actually thought about as something that could’ve happened.) What if Cas has spent so long denying himself happiness, and then trapped in regrets and false-rescue scenarios created by the Empty, that he can’t trust that his rescue is real? And so he runs off to be on his own - literally stealing the Impala because he can’t handle being in Dean’s presence one moment longer - and only slowly comes to terms with the idea that it’s over now and he can be happy with/around his friends and family. This one’s both deliciously angsty and at times funny/sweet, looking at Cas’s relationships not just with Dean but with Sam, Jack, Claire, even Eileen. It does some fun stuff with other returned angels and demons who now find themselves back on Earth (and human), and...I just really enjoyed this one a lot.

Both Saved and Lost by angelfishofthelord (13.7k) Gen Cas character study, absolutely gorgeous and sad and one of those fic I couldn’t stop thinking about the day after reading it. AU where Apocaverse!Cas isn’t immediately killed by our Cas during 13x22 but instead hitches a ride back to the main ‘verse. Dean and Sam want to keep him alive for information on Michael; Cas is torn and trying to figure out just how similar—or different—they really are. Some great angel stuff here (I also highly recommend this author’s Jack & Cas “dadstiel” fics, they’re equally lovely and heartbreaking at the same time.)

flesh of the mighty by Mudprophet (2.7k) - THEE “What exactly did Dean eat in Purgatory, anyway?” fic you’ve probably already heard about. *cough* I’ve been trying to work up the courage to read this one for a while and finally gave in and OH MY CHUCK I’m so glad I did. It’s perversely disturbing and beautiful at the same time, Cas is wonderfully DERANGED and ALIEN in that way that I love it when fics managed to convey just how much angels are NOT human. Do heed the tags.

Full of Grace by ilovehowyouletmefall (11k) - Another one for the weird-as-fuck-angel!Cas lovers’ list. Heaven/canon-compliant fic where Dean knows he should feel happy and at peace but he just...isn’t, even with Cas and all of his friends and family there. He finally goes looking for Cas when he’s been absent for a time and, for the first time, gets to not just see but experience his true form. Another one that hits some kinks I knew I had and others I didn’t...until now. ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

don't ask me where i've been by saltwound / @1x06 (8k) - I can never resist a good 09x06 fiction gap fic! What makes this one really stand out is how well it captures Cas’s internal voice - his struggles adapting to human senses, limitations and emotions versus what/how he experienced things as an angel. The longing and feelings between Dean & Cas here are so achingly beautiful and I just wanted to cry when Cas says he misses hearing Dean’s prayers, so Dean, he...oh, I’m not going to spoil it. *happy sigh* Just read it.

this room is wrong by DarkHeartInTheSky (12k) - Sometimes I like torturing myself with some good 15x03 divorce arc angst and this fic hit that button just so. It’s an alternative take on where Cas might have ended up after leaving the bunker and features some great Cas & Sam friendship feels, when Sam sets out to try to bring Cas home. It’s all the stuff you’d wish the writers would’ve let them talk out in canon.

Well that’s more than enough for this round! Go forth, read and give some great writers some kudos & comment love!

[lucasbarr]

Ok Emmantural fandom, I’m having thoughts about Emma in this chili's tonight.

Do you think Dean teaches Emma how to play guitar? Because I definitely think he would and that he keeps one at the bunker to play when he has down time. Maybe he even teaches Jack or Claire how to play too if they’re interested. Maybe he even does song requests, much to his regret when Jack suggests pop hits.

I was having some feels related to both watching the Bad Boys episode and thinking about Dean inheriting Sonny’s place.

I could so see him taking over and Emma having a Robin-like roll where she teaches the kids how to play guitar. But she has to learn from somewhere and I see guitar being one of Dean’s hidden talents. It’s how I explain him being such a good singer at the end of the show, I’d like to think he picks it back up after leaving Sonny’s place.

Back to Dean inheriting Sonny’s place.

I don’t think it would happen until maybe after the finale. Which means the gang get to move to Hurleyville, New York which is in the Catskills region of upstate New York. The only knowledge I have of this place is from watching the Marvelous Mrs. Maisel.

Cas could have his Bees and use it to teach the kids about respecting nature. This would go well with the whole ‘work the land respect the land thing they have going on’. I think that this could also be a good place for Sam to send any kids that he and Eileen find on their hunts.

During all this I think they’d be the new Bobby and using the Bunker as a Roadhouse-esque location. I mean, why have all those rooms if your not going to use them? Claire and Kaia would definitely frequent this place because Jody would much rather them go their then a shoddy motel.

Emma would probably work at the home as the housekeeper or maybe taking care of any animals they have on the farm. When she’s not doing that I suppose she’d be giving guitar lessons. I could see her maybe singing in local bars and recording CDs to earn some extra cash on the side.

I’m sure she’d hunt, much Dean’s annoyance. Her partners are either Jack, Claire, or both of them at once. With Jack as the pseudo-god, I see him splitting he responsibility with a corporeal Amara, could see him wanting to tag along with her. I also see her being friendly with Krissy and her friends.

I see her splitting his time between the farm and the bunker. She hangs out with Eileen, Sam, and Magda whom Jack resurrected, along with Kevin. Speaking of Kevin, I think he and Emma would have r really strong bond (regardless of whether or not she’s resurrected in this hypothetical scenario). She enjoys hanging out with him and his mom when Kevin’s not at Princeton.

Emma wouldn’t really know what to make of Amara but I think Amara would like her. Especially post-finale because she’s the big sister of her great-nephew. She’s also the daughter of her first friend, because I’d like to think Amara and Dean could have become friends if given the chance (they are Bi4Bi). So Amara probably visits the farm and is kinda like the farm’s wine aunt.

Her real aunt, however, is our Charlie who is resurrected. I think she lives in Sioux Falls and is part of the Wayward Sisters. I think she helps Sam and Eileen on the side, helping to bring hunting into the 21st century. (That IPad scene was a waist if they weren’t going to make it permanent!) Charlie also visits the farm and hosts game nights with them and all their hunter friends. Also she takes Emma, Jack, Magda, Claire and all the girls LARPing. Dean of course tags along and claims he doesn’t have a good time but he does.

And maybe, just maybe, while on a hunt, Emma, Claire, Krissy, and Jack discover a boy who looks just like someone they know. Maybe it’s after his mom’s killed by a monster or maybe he’s got his memories and using he Winchester name. But I think Dean’s kids deserve to get to all be together like the dysfunctional family they are. That also includes Jesse who just kinds shows up one day and they just adopt him into the fold.

Also Jack & Amara fix Purgatory so Emma, Garth, and his pack don’t have to go there. He also resurrects, Benny, Lenore, Madison, and Amy because they don’t deserve to be there. Emma frequents Benny’s diner that he opens in Louisiana with his great-great granddaughter Elizabeth.

I think Jack would offer to resurrect Rowena but she declines. So you know what that means? Weekly trips to hell to hang out with your other favorite aunt! Who definitely teaches Emma and the others how to do magic. Which I think would lead Emma to befriend Max and Alicia (who is not a tree person). Do I think Emma and Alicia would be cute together? Absolutely!

I guess this kinda devolved into my perfect post-canon, huh? Oops XD Tagging @milfcodeddean and @scarecrowmax because looking at your content before I watched the episode 😂 It all just kinda spiraled from there lol

[hsslilly-blog]

What kind of things do Hunt and Claire agree on as they plan to have a kid?

Like hypothetically, if your parents are a famous movie star and director, you’re gonna naturally be curious about film and tv. So maybe they say, like, you can be in the school play if you really want to, but we’re not letting you work as a child star

i think most of their conversations about it revolve around this exact topic. this ended up too long, i'm so sorry.

claire has lots of anxieties about being a mother: it is something she wants to be ("eventually... one day... in the future") but she feels very insecure about it. sometimes she thinks she's not cut for it. i think claire just fears repeating what both her parents did to her when she was a child. "planning" a child feels very weird to her, and i think it is a topic of conversation she Avoids (just like she Avoided the topic of marriage.) this is a theme in claire's character: for someone who demands clarity from her partners, she sure likes avoiding topics she finds uncomfortable. and, well, hunt does not.

so these conversations are not something she can escape from. i think it takes a while for hunt to figure out if: 1. claire wants to marry; 2. claire wants to have a child; and then, finally 3. how this is going to happen. at first claire says they shouldn't plan at all, that things are going to work out just fine. hunt tells her this is absurd. she says it's not fair to the child to have everything set in place before they're even here! hunt asks her if bringing a child into the world without any preparation is any fairer. as always, conflict moves them, so this is when they start having a productive discussion.

(it takes her a while but claire eventually understands that "planning for a child" is different from "planning their entire life ahead" and that her parents were complex individuals.)

as a former child star, claire would be terrified of putting her children in the same situation. the stress and pressure of it all, plus her dynamics with her parents (and her mother's fixation on her acting career) greatly defined her person. and she's a bit weirder because of it. i believe hunt shares her sentiment; he's more than aware how ruthless the industry can be for adults, let alone for children.

there are two things they agree very early on: their children may be interested in any art form (or whatever else they may like), but they're not going to pursue it professionally until they're old enough to understand what it means; and that the less exposition the better. the public wouldn't know grace's face until her 10th birthday. does baby #2 have a name? who knows. i think this is true of their relationship prior engagement as well.

most of all, i think they just want the kids to have a normal childhood. neither of them had one. they want the kids to explore who they are, try things out, make mistakes, etc, without fearing judgement (from them, or from others.) <- these are two overly critical people, and they know what criticism does to your soul. they don't want that to their children. so being kinder and accepting the babies as they are is also something hunt and claire agree on. learning experience.

i also believe they'd try to be present for their children. claire had her whole situation with her parents (one was Not There, the other one was only there when she was acting), and hunt had a very lonely childhood. so they agree on trying to be less weird about work. not easy for either of them! this is when claire has her... crisis. it does work out in the end. i think they're a happy little family.

[bourbonbees]

Suptober Day 6- Cemetery Boys

https://archiveofourown.org/works/34336042

Rating- G Jack POV

Jack has discovered there are a great deal of things that he loves about being human, he loves eating cake, taking his dog for walks, and swimming, but there’s nothing he loves more than his family. His family is not conventional, he’s got three dads, one of which is an angel, but all of them love him unconditionally. It’s rocky at first with Dean but after some quality time spent listening to Zep and going fishing together, the grumpy hunter warms up to him. It also doesn’t hurt that Jack’s first dad, Castiel, is also Dean’s partner and therefore holds a lot of sway over him, whether he likes it or not. Sam, his third dad was the best! He’s the one that establishes family movie night, Jack’s favorite night of the week!

Sam lets Jack pick the movies pretty much every week, much to Dean’s dismay. This week Jack chooses Ghostbusters as his pick. It’s great, he especially loves the jokes and the Stay Puffed Marshmallow man. He isn’t sure where the writers did their research for the movie though, his experiences with ghosts contain a lot less whimsy and a lot more salting and burning. The movie is just wrapping up when it hits him, they don’t have a name, every great team of heroes has a name.

“Hey, why don’t we have a name?” Jack poses the question, looking to Dean for a response.

“Kid, how much candy have you had? Are you sugar crashing? Remember, me Dean, you Jack, that annoying guy over there, Sam, this adorable ray of sunshine, Castiel.” Dean is concerned, he feels Jack’s forehead and looks him over, his parental instincts kicking in.

“No like a team name! Like there’s The Avengers, Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles, uh The Fellowship of the Ring.” Jack lists off, Sam sending him a proud smile at the last one.

“Jack, hunters don’t really do teams. We’re kinda solitary, it’s our nature.” Sam explains, causing Jack even further confusion as he looks around at his family. They do everything together, live together, celebrate wins together, spend holidays together, work together, is that not a team?

“We’re not a team? Isn’t a family a team?” Jack frowns, worrying that he’s misread a long series of social cues. He is prone to that sometimes, his brain working a bit differently from his dads, neurodivergent, that’s what Sam had called it.

“Jack, oh, of course we’re a team. But more than that, we’re family.” Cas swoops in, reaching over and patting Jack on the shoulder. Cas is always the gentlest of his dads, he gives really good hugs, and is the one Jack goes to on the days where being a human is too much to deal with.

“Would it make you feel better if we had a team name?” Dean offers, following Cas’ lead. Jack doesn’t miss when Cas sends Dean a small nod of approval. Dean has a different parenting approach, sometimes he’s a bit harder on Jack. Jack doesn’t like that but he understands that Dean is trying.

“Yeah, I was thinking Cemetery Boys!” Jack says right away, looking around the room expectantly. Sam chokes slightly on his beer while Cas smiles approvingly, Dean laughs softly, shaking his head at Jack.

“Well we do spend a disproportionate amount of time in cemeteries, so it makes sense to me.” Jack defends, his cheeks feeling hot, blushing, that’s what Sam had told him it was. Sometimes Jack hates being human, blushing is embarrassing and makes him feel a bit like a baby.

“Shouldn’t we be cemetery men?” Dean questions, raising a quizzical brow at Jack.

“Technically speaking, Jack and myself are neither male nor female. So, no.” Cas supplies, shrugging his shoulders at Dean and earning an eye roll. Jack doesn’t understand why his dads enjoy teasing each other so much, maybe annoying someone was another human way to express love?

“So, you’re telling me, I came out as bisexual for nothing because, I’m not really dating a man?” Dean blanches, gently smacking Cas on the shoulder. Hitting people is another love language Jack has learned, but not too hard, he learned that after accidently punching Sam a little too enthusiastically on the shoulder. Play fighting is good, actual violence is bad, he had explained that to him.

“We’re non-binary! Claire taught me that.” Jack is happy to interrupt, always happy to share the latest things he’d learned. He loves Claire for that reason, she’s always full of new things to learn, she is an excellent big sister. “Claire, Me, Cas, and Dean, we’re all LGBLT? Or is it LGBTQ? Either way, Claire is a lesbian, she also taught me that. And Dean, you’re a bisexual! Cas, you’re gay, I think? So, you didn’t come out for nothing, you came out for your non-binary partner.” Ha! Jack is very proud, this is one area he feels confident he knows more about than Sam, Dean, or even Cas.

“You’re surprisingly well informed for a toddler.” Sam compliments, tipping his beer bottle at him.

“The toddler age range ends at 3, I assure you, Jack is 4. He is no longer a toddler. I read all the development books.” Cas corrects, earning a laugh from Dean and a groan from Sam.

“He did, trust me Sammy, made me read some of them as well. Babies are weird man. Glad you came out fully formed kid, it was a relief.” Dean chuckles. Jack is relieved he came out fully formed too, it’s a lot more fun hanging out with his family when he can talk to them like this.

“I’m a celestial being, age doesn’t exist for me. I am as old or as young as I want to be at any given minute. Isn’t that neat?” Jack prides himself on choosing this form, a teenage body, he likes it because he can help his family. He likes going hunting, driving cars, and helping Dean cook dinner, a baby couldn’t do any of that!

“He really is your son-uh I mean they really are your child?” Dean self corrects, Jack notices he does that a lot more lately, again he really is trying to be better. Jack admires that about Dean, it’s something he tries to emulate as best as he can, always working to be a better person and make his mistakes right.

“Oh, I’m comfortable with he/they, just like my dad! I do feel like a boy most of the time.” Jack looks to Cas who nods along with him. They’d talked about it once, Cas explained that Jack could change a number of things about himself if he wished, if it would better match his soul. But Jack is really and truly happy with who he is. So is Cas.

“Yeah that’s my son.” Cas says fondly, pulling Jack into a hug. This is a good hug, the kind that makes Jack feel safe and cared for. Cas always makes him feel like he belongs, that no matter what he has a place in his arms.

That night, Jack sets a plan into motion. He waits until everyone is asleep and gets to work on creating gifts for his family. He uses his powers to manifest a set of matching black crew neck sweatshirts with the words ‘Cemetery Boys’ embroidered on the front in white thread. He then designs a magnet, putting a little ghost and tombstone on it. Once he’s satisfied he goes through the recycling and finds a box to put the sweatshirts in.

The next part is the most dangerous. Jack, creeps down the hall to the door that leads into the garage attached to the bunker. His eyes glimmer when he finds his target, the black 67 Impala, sitting dead center in the garage. Dean had just waxed her the day before so she was extra shiny. Jack likes when Baby is shiny, it makes the sun reflect on his face, nice and warm. He takes the magnet and carefully places it on the bumper, making sure not to scuff or scratch the shiny metal. Then in a flash, he is back in his room, laying in his bed as if nothing has happened.

Dean doesn’t notice the magnet until they are packing for a hunt the next day, a simple salt and burn case in Wisconsin. The whole family is going! Dean has even promised Jack that he will take him to Wisconsin Dells if it goes well and they will go to a place called Deer Park where he could pet and feed a bunch of deer. Jack likes animals, sometimes more than people, they’re much less complicated.

“Oh my god! My Baby is a whore! You gave her a tramp stamp?” Dean gasps, pointing to the offending ‘Cemetery Boys’ magnet on the bumper.

“You like it? I made it myself!” Jack beams with pride, hoping Dean was speechless because he was blown away by his ability to create magnets.

“Also, the term you’re looking for is sex worker. You need to be more sex positive Dean, especially for someone, who from the sound I hear coming from your room at night, seems to enjoy sex a great deal.” Jack blurts out nervously when Dean doesn’t respond. Jack tends to do that, he wishes he could stop, another part of what makes him different from most people.

“Oh, for the love of Christ. Please Jack, no.” Sam is doing something Claire told Jack is a facepalm, meaning he was either embarrassed or frustrated, perhaps both?

“Do not be ashamed of our healthy sex life, Dean. But do but ashamed of your gendered slurs and generally overdramatic demeanor. The car is unharmed, it’s a magnet.” Cas steps in, doing the teasing thing again. Jack really doesn’t understand his dads, but he’s glad they seem happy together.

“I swear one day Baby and I will drive away and leave you all behind. Traitors.” Dean threatens, this is a joke, Jack measures. Dean does that a lot, uses sarcasm and empty threats, at first they used to confuse and frighten Jack but now he just accepts it’s part of his nature. Dean is grumpy. Loveable but grumpy.

“See your theatrics are quite comical. You couldn’t leave us if you tried. Who would open the pickle jars for you, darling?” Cas smirks, Jack remembers witnessing this scene, Dean saying all the “no words” at a jar of gherkins as he struggled for a good 5 minutes, until his dad took the jar and opened it within two seconds.

“It was one time! And I swear I loosened it!” Dean glowers, clearly ashamed by the great pickle debacle of last week.

“Dads, stop. I will remove the magnet.” Jack decides it’s his job to play peacemaker, he steps up and gently takes the magnet off baby’s bumper, Dean visibly sighs in relief. Jack tries to hide his disappointment, he’d meant the sticker as a gift.

Cas notices his mood shift and is by his side, pulling Jack into a side hug. “Hey, you can put it on my truck.” He offers, rubbing Jack’s back and making him instantly feel better, must be magic dad powers Jack figures.

“Thanks dad, this is why you’re my favorite.” He says without thinking, Sam and Dean giving him matching offended expressions.

“Uh-what about me, I’m the one that sneaks you candy when Cas isn’t looking.” Sam makes a good point, he is exceptionally good at sneaking. He and Jack have so much fun together, that’s how they ended up with Miracle the dog. Sam had helped Jack smuggle him into the bunker and once both Jack and Cas had bonded with the dog, Dean couldn’t kick him out. Though Jack knows that Dean loves the dog just as much, he’s caught him slipping Miracle some of the good bacon when he thinks no one is looking.

“No Dean is the one that gives me candy. You help me pull pranks!” Jack laughs as Dean, flinches, quickly busing himself with packing all their bags in the trunk along with the weapons they’d need.

“Dean!” Cas says in his low, ‘oh no you’re in trouble,’ voice. “We’ve dicussed this, Jack’s intake of high fructose corn syrup is frighteningly high. He needs to eat real food.” He adds. Nougat is a food, Jack thinks privately, nougat might be his favorite food in fact.

“He’s a kid, he’ll be fine. Dean and I lived on that shi-stuff as kids and we turned out alright.” Sam, usually the vegetable police, surprisingly comes to Jack and Dean’s rescue, earning a matching raised brow from them both.

“Did you though?” Cas challenges, hand on his hip, sometimes dad gets sassy. Jack likes when dad gets sassy because it’s funny, makes him laugh.

“Well damn, don’t sugar coat it or anything babe.” Dean says in disbelief, opening the passenger door for Cas, Sam climbing into Baby’s backseat before Dean motions for Jack to come sit behind him. “Do I even want to know?” He sighs as he spots the box Jack is carrying.

“Well you’ve all been distracting me, I almost forgot.” Jack pauses as he opens the box and holds up the Sam sized sweatshirt. “I made us all shirts! Team shirts, we’re the Cemetery Boys!” He says proudly, shoving the shirt at Sam, then two at Cas, one for him and one for Dean. Jack pulls on his own shirt right away, stretching his arms and modeling it for them all.

“Can you all wear them for me?” Jack pulls out his trump card for this one, using the ‘look’ that Sam had taught him. He made his eyes big and kept them open just long enough so they were watering slightly, then bit his lip.

“I really screwed myself when I taught you my secrets. Really, using my own puppy eyes on me. Really short sighted of me to teach you that.” Sam sighs as he pulls on the sweatshirt, Cas doing the same.

“Nope, still not doing it. I don’t do matching shirts.” Dean holds firm, shaking his head at Cas when he holds out the sweatshirt to him as they pull out of the garage.

“Dean, the couch in the library is awfully uncomfortable. It’d be a shame if you had to sleep there.” Cas is firmly on team Cemetery Boys, pulling out the big threats to get Jack his way.

“Ugh fine, but no one can ever find out about this!” Dean groans, waiting until he’s at a stop sign at the end of the road to pull it on. Jack lights up, his team is complete, all three dads are wearing his shirt!

“It’s funny how easily emasculated you are Dean. Life is a lot more fun when you stop caring about gender expectations.” Cas smirks, Dean rolling his eyes at Cas and mimicking his know it all expression.

“Dean is sensitive, dad, and he’s really good at making pies! I think he cares less than you think he does.” Jack pauses, pleased when Dean makes eye contact with him in the rearview mirror and smiles. “Besides, I saw the pink underwear he hides when I helped with that laundry that one time.” He adds, Dean’s smile quickly disappearing, his eyes wide as he tightly gripped the steering wheel.

“Jesus Christ, kid, stop selling out all my secrets.” Dean grits between his teeth, now he is blushing. Jack knows Dean hates blushing just as much as he does.

“Oh that’s good! Can’t wait to tell Claire that one!” Sam barks out a laugh, taking his phone out of his pocket.

“You wouldn’t!” Dean hangs his head in shame when they stop for a train.

“Already did!” Sam sing songs, holding up his phone. Jack is sometimes thankful that Claire doesn’t live with them, living with your sibling seems exhausting sometimes, if Sam and Dean are any indication.

“Alright that’s enough Jack, don’t spill all the coffee. Your dad is allowed to have his secrets.” Cas intervenes, gently patting Dean’s thigh.

“Tea, dad, its spill the tea!” Jack sometimes can’t handle how out of touch his dad is. Guess that’s what happens when you’re millions of years old.

“Oh right, what’s the difference?” Cas sighs, laying his head back against the headrest as if he’s exhausted, Jack knows it’s just for dramatic effect because Cas doesn’t sleep.

“Cas, there’s big difference! One is the nectar of the gods and the other is glorified leaf water.” Dean defends, holding Cas’ hand, it’s meant to be a private gesture, but Jack can see it and it makes his heart happy.

“Tea is good.” Sam tries.

“I rest my case.” Dean counterpoints.

The case is a rough one, it turns out to be a bit more than a simple salt and burn. The ghost, a family annihilator was coming from beyond the grave to try to kill his son who had survived his attack. They had split into two groups, Dean and Cas at the cemetery burning the bones and Jack and Sam with the victim, trying to keep him safe.

“Do you think maybe we can take a photo together in our shirts?” Jack asks offhandedly as he and Sam roam the house looking for any objects that might still tether the ghost to the house.

“Why do you care so much about these shirts and taking a photo together?” Sam asks curiously, making Jack pause to think for a moment.

“Because, I’ve been watching a bunch of shows and movies, and all the families in them, they have all these photos together. They make all these memories together and they display them in their houses for everyone to see. I want that. The fact that we don’t have that makes me kind of scared, like this isn’t real. Like you all are prepared to run at a moment’s notice if I go nuclear.” Jack explains, using air quotes around the word nuclear.

“Oh. Oh. Jack, hey, it’s not like that. I guess, well we’ve been so busy saving people and hunting things, we’ve lost track of normal family things. You’re family Jack. Promise.” Sam says right away, pulling Jack into a crushing hug. Sam is strong, Jack hopes to be that strong someday.

“Can we take a photo then, a family portrait?” Jack asks hopefully.

“Family portrait? Family portrait. Shit! Jack, the family portrait!” Sam gasps, letting Jack go and looking around the room with wild eyes.

“Huh?” Jack is trying to catch up before he spots the family portrait hanging above the fireplace, both the victim and his evil departed dad in the photo. He rushes to grab it off the wall and tosses it into the fireplace. Sam pulls out a container of salt and lighter fluid, coating the portrait, then Jack tosses a match, lighting it on fire.

“Good work kid.” Sam grins as the ghost appears and then bursts into flames. “I think you’ve earned that portrait.”

True to his word, the first thing in the morning, Sam helps Jack use the laptop to find the closest portrait studio. It happens to be a JC Penney portrait studio, making Dean groan and complain about cheesy backgrounds and awkward poses that they’d likely endure. With much coaxing and further threats from Cas to relegate Dean to sleeping with Miracle on the dog bed, he agrees to the photoshoot.

Jack gets several copies of the photos made. He hands out wallet sized copies to Mary and Eileen who both coo over how adorable they look. Cas gets it framed and hangs it in the library, Dean never admits he likes it, but Jack catches him stopping to look at it every day, a proud smile on his face.

This is Jack’s family. His team. His Cemetery Boys.

[falcor-thee-luck-dragon]

What a Time to be Alive - Diego Hargreeves x reader Season I

Chapter 7- The Day That Was

Summary: Five has popped in from nowhere, yet again. Now you, Diego, Five, and Allison are on the hunt for an important file.

Masterlist - where all the other chapters are⚔️

Tagged: @sambucky8 @white-wolf-buckaroo @2cuteforyourlies @la-vie-en-amour1 @fandomoverlord221 @thatfandombitcch @alonewolfsblog @starrrybarnes @winterboobear11

“Who the hell is Harold Jenkins?” Questions Diego, bewildered at the random insignificant name Five just handed Allison on a folded piece of paper. Five glances up at the six of you, who are all gathered around Allison in various states of befuddlement. He lets out a short huff before taking one more sip of coffee, promptly chucking it behind him where it soars across the room forgotten and out of sight.

“I don’t know...yet. But I know that he’s responsible for the apocalypse. So we have to find him. And we have to do it now.” Explains Five, setting up a new plan of attack.

“How is he connected to what’s gonna happen?” Wonders Luther doubtfully.

 “I don’t know.” Answers Five, Diego cutting in with his own questions, “Wait so you just know his name? That’s it?”

“That’s enough.” Assures Five to the rest of you. You let out a snort, amused by his ready-to-go vagueness.

“There are probably dozens of Harold Jenkins in the city.” Adds Diego, making a compelling point, how are you guys supposed to find one guy within the giant populous of the city?

“Well, we better start looking, then.” You deadpan, not thrilled with the idea of playing a game of Where’s Waldo.

Five then goes on to fully explain the reasoning and valuable information about how he came to the conclusion of Harold Jenkins causing the apocalypse. Further diving more in depth about his former employer and what the Commission is, as well as what it does, which is to protect and maintain the timeline. It’s a large informational dump, but it does clear up more about who Hazel and Cha-Cha are. As well as what they do, so they’re timetraveling assassins who help keep the timeline in order. And you already thought your life was weird enough.

Five finishes his little rant, the rest of you all beginning to speak out at once, rambling on with more opinions and unnecessary questions. Allison commenting on how completely insane everything he just said sounds. Five’s head snaps up at that, “You know what else is insane? I look like a 13 year old boy. Klaus talks to the dead, Y/N can get shot in the head and come back to life, and Luther thinks he’s fooling everybody with that overcoat. Everything about us is insane. It always has been.” You nod at that, Klaus adding his two cents from his spot laying on the couch, “He’s got a point there.”

“We didn’t choose this life, we’re just living it. For the next three days, anyway.” Five ends with, hoping everyone will see the importance of sticking together. “But the last time we tried to stop it, we all died. Why is this time any different? Why shouldn’t I go home to my daughter?” Worries Allison.

“Because this time, I’m here. We have the name of the man responsible. Guys, we actually have the chance of saving the lives of billions of people. Including Claire.” Replies Five, a new determination pushing him forward. Allison’s eyebrows furrow in thought, “You know her name?”

“I do, and I’d like to live long enough to meet her.” Five tells her honestly.

“All right. Let’s get this bastard.” She agrees, walking closer to Five. “You had me at Gerald Jenkins.” Says Diego, you roll your eyes, Five correcting him “Harold Jenkins.”

“Whatever it is. Too many people have been killed his week, let’s not lose anyone else.” You add, walking towards the door.

“You, Luther?” Five says, surprised that Luther hasn’t joined the band wagon yet. “Yeah, you go. I’m gonna stay and go through Dad’s files. I still think this has something to do with why he sent me to the Moon.” Luther tells all of you, his mind still dead set on the Moon and why he was sent there. You roll your eyes, Diego speaking up at Luther’s unwillingness to help, “Seriously? Now you wanna make the end of the world about you and Dad?”

“No. “Watch for threats.” That’s what he told me. You think that’s a coincidence? This all has to be connected somehow.” Luther explains while looking to each of you expectantly. “No, we should all stick together.” Allison reasons, trying to get Luther to see the light. “We don’t have time for this.” You groan while reaching out to touch Diego’s arm, you just really want to leave and get on with things.

“Let’s roll. I know where we can find this asshole. Klaus, you’re with me and Y/N.” Beckons Diego, nodding for him to follow. 

“Yeah. I...I’m good. I think I’ll, uh...I think I’ll pass,” He says from the couch while waving him off, “I’m feeling a little under the weather, so..uh...” He trails off, getting up and walking past you, Diego, and Five.

 Diego and Five look to you for an answer as Klaus walks away and out of sight, you just shrug your shoulders, “The worlds a rainstorm and he’s but a tiny rain forest ant.....I don’t know, lets just leave.” You tell them with a sigh as you start walking towards the front door, the two of them following.

“When did you get all metaphorical?” Says Five.

“Since today.”

“That’s right my babes a smart one.”

“Someone has to be...and Diego it’s not gonna be you.” Five lets out a choked laugh at your teasing comment.

“I’ve missed you guys.”

——

Surprisingly enough, Diego had the right idea when it came to finding this Harold Jenkins guy at the police station. They have all the records of almost everyone in the whole city, so Jenkins record has to be here.

Diego pulls up to the side of the building, while you look out the window at the bustling city life, thinking to yourself about how none of these people could even begin to dream of the life you live. They’re all blissfully oblivious to that fact that the actual apocalypse is supposed to be coming in a couple days. None of them have a goddamn clue. They don’t know what it’s like to die, or what a heartbeat sounds like in the chest of a terrified teenage robber. They’ll never know what it feels like to look at their own reflection in a bullet, as it flies past their head. When it seems like time is rolling in slow motion, and you’re the only one fast enough to react. They have no idea, and they’ll never carry the memories of taking another humans life. But no life you have ended was ever innocent, and the world can sleep a little easier with the loss of another rapist or murderer gone from the streets.

You stay silent as Diego and Five start talking about this Jenkins guy. “I know this Jenkins dude has to have a record. We gotta get our hands on his file.” States Diego, but you do wonder how he’s gonna pull this off.

“And your plan is to what? Waltz in there and just ask for it?” Sasses Allison, doubtful about Diego’s confidence.

“I know the station like the back of my hand, sis. I’ve spent a lot of time inside.” You snort at that, “Behind bars or handcuffed.” He glares at you through the front mirror, you just smile sweetly at him.

“Whatever. Here’s the plan.”

“Plan? I’m just gonna blink in and get the file.” Five says matter-of-factly. Diego shakes his head, “No, that’s not...You don’t know the ins and outs of this place, okay?” Diego jabs defensively.

“I literally just did this yesterday.”

“What.”

“My yesterday, not your yesterday. It’ll take me two seconds. Why don’t I just go?” Argues Five clearly confused as to why Diego is being difficult about this simple task.

“Listen to me. You are not going in there. I made a call. That’s what a leader does. He leads.”

“Okay then Mr. Leader, get the damn file.” You grumble, wanting to get on with the day, considering there’s only three left. He gives you another fake mirror glare, before opening the door and getting out.

——

While Diego is off and away, getting that file, you’re currently leaned against a marble wall of some giant building, Five doing the same to your left. The both of you listening to Allison’s attempt at calling Vanya, who doesn’t appear to want to answer. Finally Diego walks around the corner, “So?” Asks Five pulling himself off the wall.

“You’re welcome.” He says while Allison snatches the file out of his hand. Suddenly her eyes go wide, “Holy shit.” She exclaims, taken aback by whatever she’s looking at.

“What?” You question, leaning in closer to see what the big deal is.

Allison turns the file around so the three of you can see the photograph of a man, “Harold Jenkins is Leonard Peabody.”

Your brows furrow in confusion, “Am I supposed to know who the fuck that is?” 

——

It feels like you’re playing a game of clue or something of that nature, the file leading the four of you to Harold/Leonard’s house in some suburban neighborhood. You all get out of the car, making your way up to the front porch. “Be careful, okay? We don’t know what Peabody’s capable of.” Warns Allison in that concerned motherly tone of hers, it’s almost comforting.

“Yeah, he didn’t seem dangerous when I first saw him. Looked kinda scrawny.” Replies Diego taking the lead up to the house.

“Yeah, well, so are most serial killers and mass murders.” Allison adds, you laugh at the irony. “Exactly, I mean look at Five.” You tell them, Five gives you a half offended look while muttering a short, “Thanks.”

Five and Diego continue their way up and onto the front porch, slowly walking towards the door. As they’re doing this, Allison goes to the right, heading for the back entrance. You pause on the sidewalk, right in front of the house, while looking up at the roof where you spot a window into the upstairs bedroom, bingo. Crouching down ever so slightly, you spring up, hurling your arms upwards for more momentum as you launch yourself onto the roof. And she lands a perfect 10, outstanding, you think chuckling to yourself. Both Diego and Five completely unaware of yours and Allison’s absence, you continue to the upstairs window. The window’s locked but like that’s going to stop you, you grip the bottom of it and push up, snapping off the lock as you lift it. Giving yourself access into the house, you stick a leg in, ducking under as you make your way inside. It’s clean enough, and best part, there’s no house alarm. You have a look around at your current surroundings, nothing seemingly out of the ordinary that would raise any alarm bells, in fact the place is kind of a bore if your being honest.

Walking down the wooden stairs you see Allison and Five making their way towards the front door to unlock it for Diego. A second later Diego comes bursting through the glass, crashing into the floor and making a nice mess in the process. “Subtle.” Comments Allison looking down at him. Five walks over to the door handle, turning the knob and opening it, “You know, the door was unlocked.” He tells him. You make it to the first step, watching in amusement as Diego picks himself up, “Dramatic, as per usual.” You quip, Five and Allison snickering as Diego just grumbles, “Yeah, well, my way works just fine.”

He stands up, flicking loose pieces of glass stuck to his jacket, “Spread out. Yell if you, uh.... you know, you’re in trouble.” He sighs, walking away and into the living room.

“Ah, inspiring leadership.” Comments Five bluntly. “One of the greats.” Adds Allison as the three of you watch him limp away.

“If we ever have kids, I hope they’re not that stupid.” You mutter, Allison lets out a loud laugh as she turns to you, her face breaking out into an amused smile. Five just shakes his head with a tiny smirk lacing his boyish features, he then moves to walk away and into another room.

You shrug, walking back up the stairs, Allison trailing behind you. She searches in some guest room, as you slowly walk down the short hallway, your nose catching the scent of something odd, you look up. The attic door, “Well this has never let me down in any horror movie. There’s gotta be some creepy shit up here.” You mumble to yourself, incredibly curious as to what you may find. Reaching your arm up, you grab the dangling handle, firmly pulling down the retractable steps. Letting curiosity take the better of you, you march up the wooden step-ladder, only for your eyes to land on the entirety of the Umbrella Academy in its prime. All your faces scratched where the eyes should be, plus a multitude of figurines, some of which are broken and melted. Definitely not weird or anything, totally normal.

“Guys, you’re not gonna believe the weird-ass shit I just found!” You shout down to them, excited about your creepy horror movie like find. You can hear the thumping of their shoes as they all race to where you are from their various spots in the house. Allison peaking her head up first, the others following suit. They all stand around behind you, taking in their peculiar new surroundings.

“All our faces are burnt off.” Says Allison, freaked out and bewildered by this wild discovery.

“Well, that’s not creepy. This guys got some serious issues.” Mumbles Diego, who’s leaning down to get a better view of the damage.

“I was hoping our breaking and entering would lead to something interesting, I didn’t exactly have weird-man-child-obsessed-with-childhood-heroes in mind.” You muse, picking up a half melted figurine of yourself. Your face scrunches up into a grimace at the ugly sight, you then turn to face the others, gaining their attention.

“Look. Mine even has orange eyes. Special Edition Number Eight.”

“That’s nice Y/N. Mine doesn’t have a head.” Retorts Diego.

“Five you still look like your figurine, it’s like a freaky spitting image.”

“My hair looks better.”

“Amen brother.”

“Y/N I can’t say the same for yours..ah don’t hit me I’m kidding.”

“This was never about Vanya. This was about us.” Exclaims Allison, getting more disgusted by the second as she quickly gathers the attention of the three of you. 

Without warning Five falls to the floor, making a loud thud. You all turn in concern, “Five. What...” Allison trails off, getting down on her knees to better assess the situation, you set your half melted Special Edition self down on the shelf, turning to do the same but on Five’s left. Your eyes catch a deep red stained to his fingers. A subtle whiff of blood dissipating off of Five.

You lift up his uniform shirt to better see the damage, he’s got a nasty piece of metal shrapnel stuck in his side. “Jesus, Five.” Whispers Diego, concern lacing every word.

“Five what the fuck, I was wondering why I could smell blood on the way here.” You glance at Allison for a fraction of a second, she thankfully doesn’t catch what that glance was implying, you’d be laughing at the thought if not for the current situation. Five just groans, “You have to keep going. So...close.” He whispers, passing out once again. 

“Five. Five!” Allison shouts as the both of you try and shake him awake. It’s no use, he’s to exhausted.

“Well, shit.” You add dryly, positioning yourself to lift Five’s unconscious body up.

——

Diego holds open the Academy’s door as you quickly make your way inside, holding a barely conscious Five in your strong arms. Allison and Diego right behind you, “We should have taken him to the hospital.” She whisper yells.

“A kid with a shrapnel wound might raise some questions.” Five mutters tiredly, as a stream of blood runs out the side of his mouth.

“Yeah, well, so does the murder shrine in Harold Jenkins’ attic.” Presses Allison, making a solid point. You finally reach the living room couch, laying Five down as gently as you possibly can.

“He’s still losing a lot of blood. What do we do? We gotta get the shrapnel out.” Worries Allison, looking to you for guidance. Diego randomly walks past the two of you, seemingly abandoning ship, nope he’s just found Grace who’s apparently fixed and about to walk up the stairs.

“Diego, where are you going?” Allison calls after him, but he completely ignores her.

“Fuck Diego, we don’t have time for this. I’ll get the medical stuff...just uh...keep the old guy awake. I’ll be right back.”

——

You’re leaning against Five’s wardrobe as Grace puts a fresh bandage on his wound. Your mind flashes to the times when she would have to do the same thing to you, after countless dangerous missions. Although she would actually just be painfully dislodging the shrapnel, doing her best to be as gentle as she possibly could. Those metal and glass pieces would have left you for dead, if not for your miraculous healing capabilities.

Diego leans against the door frame as Allison walks up behind him. “Anything?”

“There’s no answer at Vanya’s place. And the receptionist at her music school said she was a no-show for her lessons today.” Replies Allison, nervous as to where her sister could be.

You turn around to face them, as they both walk into the hallway. You keenly notice how Diego’s face looks almost slightly startled to see Grace up and active after what he did.

“D, you okay?” You whisper walking closer to him and Allison. “Yeah. I don’t know, it’s just surreal seeing her. I just wanna tell her that I’m s...” he doesn’t let himself finish, not wanting to reveal any important details that Allison is unaware about, “We don’t have enough time. We gotta go.” He says, turning for the stairs. “I don’t know, Diego. Five is laying there, unconscious. We need him.” Pleads Allison, holding Diego from taking off just yet.

“We can do this ourselves.” He says, his voice laced with determination. Crossing your arms you take a deep breath, “We did that already, remember? Long story short, we all died.” You sass, also wanting to stay and wait for Five.

“I’m thinking I should go back and see Claire before...” Starts Allison, Diego cutting her off, “You can’t run away from this, Allison. That’s what started this whole mess in the first place.” Diego pauses for a moment sighing, “Luther was right.” He admits, both you and Allison giving him a look. She scoffs, surprised, “I didn’t think I would ever hear you say those words.” He gives an apprehensive smile, “Yeah, well... we gotta stick together.”

You nod towards him, “Alright, hot stuff. Where do we start.” You ask him. He flashes you a small smile, “There’s no other addresses in the file, but there is another relation listed. Jenkins’ grandmother. She lived near Jackpine Road.” He explains turning to walk down the steps, you and Allison following suit. 

“You think he took her there?” She wonders.

 “I wouldn’t mind a late night drive, it’s a good enough place to start anyways.” You conclude as the three of you make your way through the Academy and out the front gate.

Continuing your way into the street, “Nope. Come on, this way.” Diego says, pulling you in the opposite direction of two police cars sitting further down the street. “Wait, but the cars back that way?” Allison says, troubled as to why Diego refuses to go in that direction.

 “Trust me, okay. Come on.” He quickly says, walking briskly away from the cruisers, you lightly touch his right arm, quickening your own steps.

 “What’s up with the cops?” You whisper, he doesn’t look at you.

“They think I killed Patch. Because of all the evidence and all my finger prints were on everything.” He mumbles, your brows furrow in frustration, “What the hell? But I was there too? Guess I didn’t touch anything.” You state puzzled, just as blue and red lights begin flashing behind the three of you.

“We’re gonna have to split up, okay. I’m in charge. Remember Vanya needs you two.” He tells you, his face showing deep worry. Why must things always go wrong?

You grab his hand, holding it tight, “Don’t say or do anything stupid, okay?” You warn him, as Allison turns to quickly flee the scene. You squeeze his hand, “I love you.” You whisper quickly, before jogging away from the cop cars, as you hustle after Allison. You can hear him mumble a quiet “Love you too” as the police cars speed into view. You glance back, your heart stinging when handcuffs are forcefully placed on his wrists. Guns drawn on him, you’d love to kick those pistols right out of their grasp. But alas, you push onward, getting into the passenger seat as Allison starts the engine, taking off down the avenue and towards this house out in buttfuck nowhere. This whole evening has had quit the turn of events.

[onthemeander]

ACOTAR Review

I have to start off by just mentioning that this book was heavily suggested to me. I only ever heard praise of the plot, characters, and the romantic message at its core. I feel this needs to be brought up because it was the fuel for the utter frustration I felt while reading this book. A frustration at my core that drove me to write my first ever review, so thanks for that.

Let’s start with the Pros of this book.

It is an easy read. I can inhale 300 pages in only two days. It is a good relaxing read if that’s what you are looking for. The kind of book you can curl up with on a rainy Sunday and just pass the free time if you're burned out on binging Netflix.

Okay, that’s it for the Pros. Now onto the Cons.

This book, a loose reimagining of Beauty and the Beast, feels like it has been written by a 50 shades of grey fan who hates Disney princess movies because the princesses are not “tough” enough. This novel comes off as the edgy version of a fantasy world that wants to include all the dark sides of life but doesn’t want to address the life long lasting implications of those dark actions. I am looking at you Ryhsand. Oh and I will go in on him later but first let's talk about our heroine.

Feyre is a young girl whose family has fallen onto hard times and it is her single minded goal to keep them all alive. They live hand to mouth, off the game she manages to hunt in a rather inhospitable forest. One day while trying to kill a Doe she sees a massive wolf and decides to kill it as well, as it was making eyes at her doe and a girl is hungry.

She kills the massive creature and takes both animals home to skin and prepare for meals. The money and food ensuring that her family won’t starve for at least a few weeks if they ration properly. Days later another more terrifying monster comes to her cottage, a Fairy in beast form by the name of Tamlin, who says she killed his friend. Now, because she killed a fairy, she can either die or come live with him for the rest of her life. She takes the later… obviously.

Feyre is a fine enough protagonist, bland enough that you can imagine yourself in her position and fantasize about having two hot men chasing you. In my younger years, I would have happily daydreamed about being in her world, surrounded by magic but being personally skilled enough to not need the aid of magic.

A pet peeve, a totally personal bias, is that to her everything is just the worst. Her Sisters are awful, her dad useless, the cottage disgusting, hunting she hates it, the fairies vile, the Spring Court a prison, and so on. The issue isn’t so much that she has a negative mindset, that is human and that can make for an interesting shade of protagonist but in this novel, it is so one-note. Everything is described with the same level of disdain. Which makes moments where she talks about having to protect her family or Tamlin honestly confusing because with how little she seems to like them the reader is left wondering why? Because of a promise she made? To a mom she hates?

Listening, family relationships are complicated. The best line I’ve heard about a relationship similar to Feyre’s, comes from the movie Ladybird, where the titular character tells her mother “I know you love me but I don’t think you like me.” Maybe it’s the fact it’s a movie and the way it is said but it is hurt there. There is a pain in the girl’s voice that her mother and she are at odds.

Feyre at no point talks about the personal pain that comes from being so distant from her family. She just resents them. Even a short moment of remembering the better days, little memories of when her and Nestia playing together as kids or Elane showed her something in the garden. Something that shows that there is, even for the briefest moment love in these relationships.

Without those moments, Feyre’s flip-flopping between going home and staying at the Spring Court feels more like padding to extend a book that saved all of the interest for the last 3rd.My bigger issue with Feyre is she doesn’t seem to really think so much as exist and react in the world. For a series that many have commended for being about feminist agency, Feyre lacks more agency than a rock in a river. At least then the water has to move around the rock.

A story based around Beauty and Beast is always going to bring into question the nature of female agency. This French fairy tale was written in 1740, in a women's magazine, meant to help teach girls about their ultimate futures. In a society where women were the property of fathers and husbands. It urged girls to look at their “beastlike” husbands and try to find the good in them. To become okay with the fact that who they marry might treat them terribly but means well… maybe this book is a perfect adaption of that idea, but I digress.

Feyre is whisked away to this magical world and through her, we learn about the fairy world. A world of violence, court games, and so much sexual assault.

While in the spring court she is tricked by a mirage of her father, nearly eaten by Naga’s, threatened multiple times by basically everyone, sees a fairy die from its wings being ripped off, finds a severed head in the garden, and so on. Whenever she expresses confusion on what is happening there is always a Fairy there to monologue away the day with detailed pages long exposition.

She readily accepts any explanation of the fairy world a man, in particular, tells her. Its exposition for the readers but for a girl who has grown up in a world that believes fairies are violent and enslave humans she is so quick to accept everything they tell her. She doesn’t stop and questions intentions and if she does wonder about the intentions of a character she usually ends on the side of being favorable to them, l especially if they are attractive.

It's clear that Feyre isn’t there to be a character but a vehicle, an avatar for the reader to travel from point A to B. She never reacts to things in a way that a person of this world with such polarized groups would react to being forced to live in the enemy camp.

Then there is Tamlin. He is fine. Your standard brutish romantic interest that is cursed to be ugly forever, by way of the phantom of the opera mask. He is demanding and haughty and thinks he knows better than everyone. Your standard High Lord ego makes for the verbal back and forth that toes the line between sexual tension and toxic relationships.

He does that standard bodice-ripping shtick, while hopping up on fairy dust, he pins Feyre to the wall and bites her neck. She says no, he ignores and then runs off. With a lovely little moment later blaming her for leaving her room, therefore, he can't be held responsible.

While Feyre has probably never listened to a single rule in her life that is still a huge red flag.

Lucien, an interesting play on the Beast’s servants. He is torn between wanting Feyre around to break the curse but also hating her for killing a friend. Honestly, I think this could have been the most interesting relationship if there was more time devoted to it. That happens a lot in this book, interesting things happen too fast and a lot of time is just devoted to Feyres’ water bowels.

Finally Ryhsand, oh dear Rhy, how I wish I could cut you from my mind just as easily as you pop other Fairies brains. Rhys is not a bad character but his introduction into the book is right when this 400+ novel went from bland but inoffensive to outright infuriating. He is the triple threat of assault; Mental, Physical and Sexual.

We first meet the Lord of the Night Court at the Fire Festival (or in honor of Maas naming conventions Fyre) where he saves Feyre from a trio of Fairies that wanted to assault her. A fine enough intro, maybe a bit overused, but I liked the Howl’s moving castle vibes with the playboy swagger and not knowing why this guy is helping at all.

I was excited at first when he showed up, I couldn’t help but get online and see what fans had to say about the books and instantly noticed that the top pairing from the series was Feyre and Rhys. Not just a fan-loved pairing but an actual canonical couple. I was interested to see how the story went and how the author would hint at this future couple while the current story was still very much pointing to a Tamlin happy ending.

Imagine my surprise when the very next scene that Rhys pops up in, ends with him physically pinning Feyre and mentally assaulting her. I believe she refers to it as a talon in her mind ready to rip her consciousness into oblivion. What a great love interest.

To add insult to literal injury, he then mentally violates her and reveals all of her more adult desires that she has been thinking about Tamlin.

He blackmails them all, threatening to tell an evil queen, Aramantha, about Feyre’s existence unless Tamlin kneels and begs. Even then he demands Feyre’s name. She lies and gives him a girl’s name from her village.

Later we learn that the village girl, Claire, has her family burned alive in their home and is dragged to the Fairy world where she is brutally tortured, mutilated, and put on display like a bear pelt. This cruelty is all the result of Rhys not keeping his fat mouth shut about Feyre being in Tamlin’s court.

The author thinks it's okay to excuse this innocents girl's murder away and make Rhys seeming cunning, by saying that he knew that wasn’t Feyre and lied to protect her. A logic so backward I am surprised my spine didn’t snap in how far it had to bend to dodge the fact that he caused her endangerment by telling Aramantha about Feyre to begin with.

Things get darker than the night court once we enter under the mountain. There, while trying to survive Aramatha’s trials, Feyre breaks her arm to the point that the bone is exposed. A day later, bleeding out, in pain, and feverish from infection, Feyre has to talk to Rhys in her cell. He offers to heal her arm in exchange for her living with him every month for two weeks.

Feyre is not interested in his deal and tells him to leave several times. What does our future perfect mate decide to do then when denied what he wants? He grabs Feyre by her exposed arm bone and twists. This man. This sexy dream boy that so many people say is their model for relationships, grabs an injured woman’s exposed bone and tortures her. Just so she will promise to live with him. He is the little boy kicking the dog because it didn’t follow his orders.

After being physically assaulted in a way that is so painful I am sure most people would black out, Feyre agrees to his deal. However, she bargains the time down to one month. He agrees and seals the deal. Just like that Rhys becomes the male embodiment of a period, complete with all the emotional distress, muscle cramps, and blood.

So does the torture end there? Oh no. For several nights after that he makes servants strip her, paint her and dress her in fabric so thin that she is basically naked. Why paint you ask? Rhys claims it is so she and he knows if anyone touches her. Though I will say that while he states this he touches her shoulder and the paint magically fixes itself. So You know it will show if anyone but Rhys touches her.

He then parades her publicly in front of the entire court like a toy. She is forced to publicly expose her breasts and genitals to a crowd of people that from day one want to see her die. He reduces her to a sex object in a crowd that already does not see her humanity.

Then he drugs her. Not an exaggeration, he even admits to it later in the book. He forces her to drink wine that makes her blackout. The next morning she can barely remember anything and has to rely on Lucien to tell her what happened. While blacked out she is forced to dance practically naked, giving Rhys lap dances and just sitting in his lap. She is exposed so throughout that Lucien even comments that he has seen more than he ever wanted to.

All of this culminated in a moment where one-night Feyre gets a moment with Tamlin, the man she loves, and they kiss and touch each other. The paint is smeared and Rhys finds them. He tells Tamlin to leave and then pins Fyre again calling her a stupid human. Then shoves his own tongue down her throat against her will as she thrashes. Aramantha finds them then and makes sure everyone in the court gets a good laugh at Feyre’s “promiscuity”.

The act is disgusting but what really made me want to burn this book was the scene directly after this. Where Rhys shows up and gives his “reasoning” for abusing her. He was just protecting her because Aramantah would be mad if she found Feyre and Tamlin kissing. He was using her nude dances to try and anger Tamlin so he would fight back when he can. He drugged Feyre so she wouldn’t have to remember the humiliation of being someone's harlot. He did all of it to help her and him.

It's okay that he abused her because it was all for a greater plan. It's okay cause he is hot.

This is the moment when I have to step away from the book review and talk about what I have seen surrounding this novel. I have heard several fans explain away Rhy’s abuse by saying “but it was in her best interest” and “that’s what war does'”. So, let's unpack that, first “in her best interest” is basically the catchphrase of every abusive partner at this point. There will always be a reason for the abuse, it’s a gaslighting tactic that ensures that abusers can deflect any blame from themselves and onto their victim. This creates complicated emotions that will paralysis the abused person from leaving the relationship altogether.

If you find yourself in a relationship where you are always rationalizing away mistreatment then please take a step back and question why there are so many excuses to begin with.

As for the but war does that. I would like these same people to say that while looking at photos of real war atrocities. To look at images from the Nanjing Massacre or the Wounded Knee Massacre and say the same thing. Those acts of violence against men, women, and children were done during the war. Does that make it okay then if the violence was done by an attractive soldier who was deep and brooding?

I have a tendency to write my own preferred scenarios which I know is kind of pointless for a published book but fix fit fiction is a thing so hear me out.  Or don’t, that’s fine you can stop reading here as the review is over. I just have one simple idea that could fix a lot of my problems with this series.

Separate Rhysand into two separate characters.

Make the man she meets at the Fyre Festival and the guy who threatens her in the mansion and under the mountain just different guys.

You can keep the dark cunning mystery man of the Fyre Festival, maybe not even name him until he shows up again in the court to help. Have him come to her cell and offer his help. Have her say no and instead of grabbing her exposed arm bone he just says it’s the only help she will get. Hell Feyre talks herself into anyways after he grabs her bone so let's just skip that violence. Have her agree just as he is about to leave and give her the stupid arm tattoo and save her life. Then that’s it. He shows up at the end to help her but that’s it.

The man who meets her in the cell does not need to be the same man who forces her to do stripteases in front of hundreds of people. Make it Attar or some other male henchman of Aramantha who makes her do the dancing and drinking and everything else.

You still want him to be cunning and calculating? Maybe have a little bit of the grey morality that makes us all squirm?  Great than keeping the scene with the forced kiss (not great but whatever). That is easier to overlook than drugging, sexual harassment, and assault.  He can be forcibly kissing her to protect her and hell let's throw in an apology for fun.

Then you set up a situation where you have this dark and mysterious figure who we still don’t know why he helps her.

I know people say wait till book two and I do plan to read it. I got to see what excuse the author comes up with that seems to explain away so much abuse. What could she possibly say that makes me sit back and say “You know yes he pimped her out and yes he pulled on an exposed bone but you know what he just suuuuuuch a good guy.” If she is that good of an author then she should become a PR writer who makes spin articles for R. Kelly and Harvey Weinstein.

[scapegrace74-blog]

Now or Never Now

A/N  Really more of a PSA: drunkenness and unrequited (or unacknowledged) feelings for your roommate aren’t the best of bed fellows.

All other parts of the Metric Universe are available on my AO3 page.

The song by Metric that inspired the title and a few lines is here.

May 1, 2018, The Pride of Spitalfields, London, England

If he were forced to account for his twenty-eight years of life, he reckoned he’d made a decent start of things.  It helped to have been born into a loving, boisterous family, cradled in the bucolic nursery garden of the Scottish Highlands.  A good education, good values, a strong sense of duty: these he owed to his parents.  

Since moving to London at twenty-two, he’d begun to weave the advantages of youth into the intentions of adulthood, with varied results.  Failed relationships, the struggles of establishing a career in his uncle’s shadow and the cataclysm of his accident were setbacks, to be sure, but they forged his character in the blast furnace of adversity.  He enjoyed the comradeship of a tight-knit group of colleagues and friends.  Only three months ago, he’d been promoted to Crew Manager at the Bethnal Green station, and he had his eye on a Station Officer post before he turned thirty-five, his ambition to finally break free of Dougal’s influence.  And Claire.  He couldn’t count his blessings without numbering his Sassenach among them.

He performed this annual stock-taking as he walked to his local pub.  It was his birthday, and he was meeting some friends for a celebratory drink.  To absolutely no-one’s surprise except her own, Claire had finished her first year of medical school at the top of her class, and he’d convinced her to join them.

The air was warm and sweet with blossoms as he entered the pub to a rowdy cheer.  His mates had secured two tables near the tiny stage where a three-piece band were setting up.  The party was well underway, and a pint of lager was thrust into his hand before he’d even taken his seat.

He thought he’d been rather surreptitious in checking the door each time it opened, but Hamish slapped him hard on the back and commented in a voice the whole table could hear.

“Yer Sassenach missus willna get here any faster wi’ yer eyes glued tae the door, lad.  Christ, has she got ye whipped!”

He felt the tips of his ears grow warm as the rest of the table laughed and joined in on the good-natured ribbing.  When he looked back up, Claire was standing there shedding her coat.  He momentarily forgot to breathe.  She was wearing black tights and the jean mini-skirt from their first meeting in this very pub, along with a sleeveless, cropped, ruffled confection that he’d definitely never seen before.  She was, quite simply, stunning.  The momentary lull from the rest of the table told him he wasn’t the only one who thought so.  He stood and hastened to greet her with a quick kiss on the cheek.

“Jamie!” she cried.  “Happy birthday!”  Her arms wrapped around his neck and she leaned in to return his kiss, barely missing his lips.  He could smell whisky on her breath.

“Did ye get a headstart on yer celebratin’, Sassenach?” he asked, both amused and confounded.  Claire hadn’t mentioned any other plans, and it wasn’t like her to drink alone at their flat.

“Aye, I have,” she giggled. “I had a partner in crime.  Look who’s here!”

Claire gestured towards the coat check, where a familiar redhead was flirting with the attendant.  His wame plummeted towards his shoes.

“Geillis,” he greeted as she approached.  “Welcome back tae London.  I didna realize ye were visiting.”

“Aye, we just arrived yesterday.  Happy birthday, fox cub.  Ye look well,” she commented with a smirk.

“As do ye,” he replied politely, glancing quickly at Claire to gauge her reaction, but she was observing the band, who had just begun to play.

“Och, mince,” Geillis replied.  “My arse needed its own baggage allowance, but at least my tits are huge.  Ferget about the bairns, I hadta pry Juan Carlos off ‘em so I could join in yer wee festivities!”

It was comforting to see motherhood hadn’t dampened Geillis’ spirit in the slightest.

“I see the lads are all here,” Claire segued quickly.  “What are we drinking?”

Jamie slid his chair over to make room for the two newcomers.  Before she’d even sat down, Geillis bought a round of shots for the table, to the general delight of his mates.  It was going to be an interesting night.

***

“Com’ dance wit’ me!” Claire yelled in his ear louder than was absolutely necessary.  Several hours had passed, and he’d lost track of the number of pints and shots she’d consumed.  Realizing one of them would need to stay relatively sober, he’d been nursing the same ale for the past hour.

“Claire, I really dinna dance o’ermuch,” he stalled as she dragged him towards the small area between tables where a few other couples were rocking together to a slow ballad.

“Neveryouworry, lad.  I’ll lead.”  Of course you will, he thought fondly.

Instead of leading, Claire literally fell against his chest, allowing his bulk to catch her.  Chilly hands met behind his neck and began teasing his curls where they lay against his nape.  He couldn’t’ help it.  He shuddered.  Drunk, he reminded himself.  She is drunk, she is yer roommate, and she trusts ye.

“Are y’ havin’ a good birthday, Jamie?” she murmured into his clavicle, where her forehead was resting.  He couldn’t help smiling.  He’d once compared her to a lioness, but right now she was doing a fair impression of a dozy kitten, allowing him to sway their bodies side-to-side in complete contradiction to the music’s rhythm.

“Aye.  Aye, I am.  And ye, Sassenach?  Did I mention how proud I am of ye fer acing yer exams?”

The moist air of her chuckle seeped through his shirt.  “Only a dozen times.  Thanks for keepin’ me fed and caffeinated whilst I studied.  I couldinit have done it wi’out you.”

“Twas my pleasure, Sassenach.  We make a braw team.”

He said it offhandedly, but Claire stilled in his arms, leaning back to peer up into his face.  There was something there, behind her slightly glazed eyes, that he’d given up hope of ever seeing.

“We do, don’t we?” she whispered, gaze flitting between his eyes and his lips, before skittering away.  The humid air of the pub seemed to press in on him from all sides, making it difficult to draw a solid breath.  A warning bell began to peel somewhere in his mind, alerting him to the fact he was in very grave danger of making an ass of himself.

She’s no’ yours, lad, he coached himself.  No’ unless she wills it, and she canna know her own mind when she’s hammered.  He tried to divert the conversation to safer territory.

“Tis good tae see Geillis again.  Ye must have missed her somethin’ fierce.”

“Mmmm,” Claire hummed noncommittally.  One of the hands that had been resting behind his neck began to thread through his hair, fingernails scraping lines of pleasure into his scalp.  Christ, that wasn’t helping his cause at all.

“Claire...” he entreated into the scant space between them.  Her long legs had somehow become entangled with his own.  She was practically riding his thigh.  Another few inches, and she was going to come into contact with the only part of him that was enthusiastic about dancing with a beautiful lass.

“I think iz time y’ take me home, James Fraser,” the limpet formerly known as his roommate purred in his ear.  Thank Christ.  Another few minutes of that sultry upright writhing, and he might have taken her right there on the beer-stained table in front of the darts board.

Navigating Claire’s increasingly pliant body towards the door and the salvation of the cool night air, Jamie ran directly into the diminutive roadblock of her best friend.  Pulling him aside, she grabbed him by the shoulder and dragged his head down to her level.

“I ken she’s yer roommate and ye look at her as though she’s the sun after a thousand days o’ rain, but she’s my best friend an’ I love her.  She’s scared, but she trusts ye.  Dinna fuck it up.”

Without awaiting a reply, Geillis spun around and returned to their table.  When he turned towards Claire, she was giving him a peculiar look.  He shrugged it off as nothing more than inebriation, and started the short three-legged stumble back to their flat.

“Ye know, Sassenach, this is twa times I’ve had tae practically carry ye home from tha’ pub.  Ye’re a verra predictable drunk.”  They were navigating Brick Lane with a heavy list to starboard, where Claire leaned heavily into his side.

“First of all, milad, I am. Not. Drunk.  You canned be drunk if y’ can shtill walk upright.  Thas your rule, may I remind you.”  Mid-lecture, the heel of her boot caught between two cobbles. She would have gone down in a heap were he not already bearing most of her weight.  “Ooops!”

“An’ second of all,” she continued undaunted, “when didyu carry me again? Since? Fuck!  Before?”

He chuckled.  If nothing else, Claire was a very amusing drunk.

“Twas the first night we met, actually.  Ye were shipping out tae Afghanistan the verra next day.”

They’d reached their front door.  He was fumbling for his keys when he noticed Claire had gone remarkably silent.  Even in the yellow glow of the hallway, her face was incredibly pale.

“Are ye alright, Sassenach?  Are ye gonna be sick?”

What came out of her mouth next was even worse.

“You fucked Geillis.  That night.  In our shower.”

Golden eyes interrogated him, tearing away any hope of evasion.  Gone was the cuddly kitten, and the lioness was on the hunt for blood.  Christ, he was going to kill Geillis for sharing intimate details of their one-night stand.  Assuming he lived to see tomorrow.

She trusts ye.  Dinna fuck it up.

His father had an aphorism he was fond of repeating.  Being an adult has little to do with your actions, he would say, and everything to do with living with the consequences of those actions.   Any callow lad could stick his cock in a lass, but it took a man to live up to his responsibilities thereafter.

“Aye.  I did. Twasn’t planned, nor somethin’ I’m particularly proud of, but thas’ the truth of it.  It didna mean anything, Sassenach.  Twas jus’ sex.”

They were inside the flat now.  He was mentally trying to evaluate whether it was safe for Claire to shower, or if he should simply tuck her into bed with a basin and some Gatorade.  She wasn’t moving, though.   She stood in the streetlight that illuminated their living space, a disheveled, beautiful mess.

“It’s my turn.”  She sounded sober, all of a sudden.  He poured a tall glass of cold water from the sink for her, regardless.

“Yer turn fer what, Sassenach?”

“My turn for you to fuck me.”

There was a hollow thunk and the cool splash of water against the cuffs of his trousers as the glass he had been holding hit the floor.  His chest felt like he was trying to suck cake batter through a straw.  To make matters worse, while he was in the kitchen she had shed her top and was standing in a sheer black bra, the peaks of her nipples cast in silvered shadow.

“Claire...” he breathed out.

She approached slowly, extending a hand to lay over his sprinting heart.

“Don’t you want me?”  Asked by any other woman, the question would be coy, but he heard the truth behind her query.  She really didn’t know.  Either he was a better actor than he gave himself credit for, or she was still seeing him through the filter of her past mistreatment.

“So much tha’ it hurts tae breath, lass.  But ye dinna want this, Claire.  No’ now.” His body was already protesting his declaration, a pulsing ache centered in his balls, but rooted in his heart.

“It’s now or never now, Jamie.  This is all that I have to give.  Isn’t it enough?”

She took his hand and placed it over the scalloped seam of her breasts.  Without volition, his fingers curled, testing the pliant firmness beneath them.  His muscles ached from holding himself in check.

“Tis far more than I deserve, Sassenach.  But the answer is no.” He pulled his hand away, his fingertips still tingling from the velvet of her skin.  “Ye should get some sleep.”

Her glass face showed every emotion, each more painful to witness than the last: hurt, anger, embarrassment, spite, and finally betrayal.  Mumbling a hasty goodnight, she practically ran to her own room.  He could hear her there now, sobs muffled by the wall he placed between them.

Dinna fuck it up.

He cradled his throbbing head in his hands.  How could doing the right thing turn out so horribly, spectacularly wrong?

***

May 21, 2018, Spitalfields, London, England

It has been twenty days since Claire’s drunken proposition, and they’d barely spoken a word to each other in that time.  As much as he was prepared for  awkwardness to descend upon their once-easy relationship, he was shocked by how much her avoidance pained him.  Couldn’t she see that he’d acted out of affection, and as her friend, ignoring the very great temptation she’d lain at his feet?

His first strategy had been to give her space.  He snatched at any excuse to be out of the flat: long runs, a pint after work with the lads, and even a long weekend with his family at Lallybroch.  Each day his phone was a constant weight in his hand, waiting for the moment she would text him about something bizarre she’d read, or call to ask where he’d hidden the olive oil.  She never rang.

Next he tried haunting their flat, planning to bump into her and force that first, clumsy conversation.  He was certain that once they got past that hurdle, they could begin to rebuild their rapport.  Almost certain.  Desperately certain.  She didn’t come home, working double shifts at the hospital and timing her visits for a shower, nap and change of clothes to coincide with his work shifts.  One night he fell asleep on the couch listening for the sound of her key in the door.  He woke the next morning covered in the plaid from his bed, but once again alone.

He sat in an outdoor cafe, watching London unfold under the warming sun like a rose, and considered what he knew about Claire that would help mend the breach.  She was stubborn.  The past twenty days were testimony of that.  She was proud.  She would sooner suffer than accept help.  She held herself to incredibly high standards, and hated to fail at anything.  She would have taken his rejection in the worst possible light.  She’d been badly hurt and deceived.  Their relationship had been one cautious step after another across the tightrope of trust strung between them.  Fueled by drunken emotion, she’d leapt forward, and he had not been there to catch her.

He opened his phone and stared at her photo in his contacts.  She’d been furious with him the day he snapped it.  He’d dragged her to a park on her day off to play rugby, only to find out the match had been cancelled on account of the heavy rain.  Heavy ringlets hung over a soaking jersey, and her glowing eyes promised swift revenge.

A dozen flowery or flippant texts were considered and abandoned before he opted for the simple and true.

I’m sorry.  I know I hurt you, and I want to make it better.  Please tell me how.

He pocketed his phone and crossed the road to the fire station for his evening shift.  If she hadn’t answered by the morning, he’d try again, and keep trying until she finally responded.

Twelve hours later, dawn was just cracking the sky as he prepared to walk home.  The station alarm rang out, but the day crew would take the call.  Even now, they were throwing on their gear and firing up the engine.  

“Corbet Place.  Isn’t that your neighbourhood, Fraser?” the driver commented as he hastened past.

Ice water flushed into his veins.  There were exactly two buildings on Corbet Place, and one of them contained a flat where a beautiful Sassenach was currently sleeping off a double shift.  A beautiful Sassenach who could sleep through a fire alarm.

He hoisted himself into the cab of a departing engine.

“Hey lad, this isn’t a taxi!” one of old hands joked, but sobered when he saw Jamie’s face.

The streets were empty.  They made the trip in record time that felt like an eternity to his racing heart.  As they drew near, the reek of a burning structure filled the air.  A half dozen other engines were parked haphazardly in the adjacent lot, their booms extending like insect antennae towards a cruelly familiar five-story brick building.  Flames licked the corner of one of the lower levels, punctuated by the pop of shattering glass and the skeletal groan of old beams giving way.

Grabbing a spare coat, hat and respirator, he ran towards his building, ignoring every professional protocol and ounce of common sense he possessed.  Claire was in their flat, and there wasn’t a power under the sun that would keep him from getting to her.

“Jamie!”

He spun towards her voice, thinking he might be hallucinating.  But no, sitting on a picnic table, wrapped in his Fraser plaid, was his beautiful Sassenach.   His knees turned to water and he sank to the bitumen at her feet.

“Claire...” he wheezed, adrenaline still coursing through his limbs.

“Were you on your...”

“How did ye...”

They both spoke, then lapsed back into stunned silence.

“Ye’re safe.” He said it as much to himself as to her.  “Ye’re here.  I thought.. when I heard the call... Christ, Sassenach.  I’ve never been sae scared in my entire life.  How did ye get out?”

“I got your text.  I was dozing on the couch, waiting for you to come home so we could talk.  The fire alarm woke me.  There was already so much smoke.  I used your plaid to cover my nose and mouth and ran down the fire escape.  Oh Jamie, I’m so sorry.”

Claire’s chin fell towards her chest, a lone tear streaking through the soot that marked her cheek.  He ran a shaking hand through her unbound hair.

“Why are ye sorry, Sassenach?”

“All your things.  Your memories.  They were all in that flat.”

He tilted her up by the chin.

“Claire, look at me.  There isn’t a feckin thing in tha’ flat that I care about that isna sitting in front of me right now.  Jesus, woman, do ye no’ ken the thought of losing ye tears out my guts?”

She looked deeply into his eyes, peering into his very soul.  For once, he did not think to hide behind a mask.  Let her see how she utterly destroyed and remade him.  All around them, the world faded to smoke.

“You... you love me?”

Nownownow.

“Aye.  I do.”

[misskittyspuffy]

To a better future (15x20, alternative ending)

[Takes place in 15x20, alternative ending]. When Dean and Sam find out that Chuck has manipulated them once more, they decide to take control of their lives again. (Dean/Cas, Sam/Eileen, Dean & Sam)

Note: Like many of us, I was truly hurt, angry and devastated after the finale, that was a huge slap in the face. I decided to wrote my own ending, the one I was sure we were getting (if the show had followed its narrative). Feedbacks are more than welcome ♥︎

Please note that English isn't my mother tongue, if you have any remark or spot mistakes, feel free to let me know! :) This is a translation of my fanfiction "À un meilleur avenir".

Ao3 link

  Their saturday nights were usually made of binge-watching sessions in the Dean-cave. Beers and pop-corn were their driving force for the evening. They usually were sitting on the couch Dean had especially set up in front of the big screen. Some other nights, they were going to the movies —which they rarely did in the past.

  But that evening, duty was going to prevail.

  An empty warehouse, deserted thirty years ago, had some strange —their kind of strange— activity in the past few weeks and the eldest Winchester had decided that it was worth to take a look at what seemed to be a ghost case. Three rash people had died at the place and some survivors had reported violent attacks.

A year ago, they had regained their free will. As it turned out, Chuck hadn’t played his last card that day, near the lake. After turning him into a human —at least, that’s what they had thought— the Winchester brothers hadn’t realized that they just had been trapped in his last scenario.

To remove a threat, you need to make believe to your enemy that he has successfully beaten you. And that’s exactly what Chuck had done. He had made them believe they had won. And had largely benefited from it.

The trap had taken the form of an illusion that had led Dean to his death and Sam to the perfect family life he had once hoped for. There had been a shift in the way Sam was feeling though —when he had gotten married, when his son was born, he had felt that something was off, but he had never succeeded to put his finger on what.

Seven years had passed after Dean’s death when one morning, while Sam was off to his daily jog, he had found Jack on his porch, waiting for him. He was looking unusually worried, which had led the Winchester to believe that something very serious had happened. Little did he know, by this time, how much his life had been about to change. The Nephilim had then explained to him that he was about to break the divergent timeline Chuck had created and in which he had locked them in. The trick was ingenious, but Jack had been more clever. He had perceived a breach while moving from one world to another —he and Amara were rebuilding the parallel dimensions Chuck had meticulously destroyed, in order to preserve the Balance of the Universe.

It had taken a while for Sam to fully accept the idea that what had been his life for so long was a lie. The illusion created by the former God had become his new reality. Getting out of it was scary and had seemed impossible at first. He had spent hours contemplating the life he had built, watching the son that was born from his marriage —born from an illusion. But looking at him playing in their living room, he had felt very real. When he had called him “dad’’, handing him over a drawing he had just made of their perfect little family, his throat had tighten. In the next few days though, he had come to terms with the fact that Jack was right, and a deep feeling of gravity was now taking over. What was about to happen was probably one of the most painful things he ever had to experience. Losing what he thought was real did feel real, but intellectually, he knew something wasn’t right. It wasn’t who he was, it wasn’t his life.

  As soon as Jack had told him about Chuck, about the fact that he still had his powers —to some extent— and had only conceded a part of them to him, including Amara, Sam had known he was telling the truth. Seven years ago in that barn, it wasn’t the ending Dean had deserved. 

  It wasn’t them back then, it wasn’t him right now. Their lives had been taken away from them.

  He had finally put his finger on what felt wrong. Jack had then mentioned a certain Eileen, and at this moment, that name hadn’t even ring a bell. Donna, Jody, Charlie, Claire… So many people that Chuck had erased from their lives. People that were once family had become strangers. Sam had finally accepted Jack’s plan to restore his life and Dean’s life the way they were before everything went wrong. The bonds the youngest Winchester had formed in that illusion were left behind, and he knew it was a wound that wasn’t going to be easy to move on from. But he knew his brother didn’t deserve to die the way he did. It had been enough for him to find the courage to move forwards with Jack’s scheme to fix their lives.

  The natural order of things was back in the space of a few minutes, thanks to Jack. He had brought Dean back on Earth, had given them back their memories and —in the process— had restored their real personalities. Sam was again the same age he was before they fought against Chuck. The fallout had been truly hard to accept, for both of the Winchesters. They had been screwed, big time. Dean had fallen on his knees, right in the middle of the Bunker, feeling more numb and devastated than ever. Only a few hours had passed for him when he was in the fake version of Heaven Chuck had created, but it had been too much already. He had received a call from Donna and Jody, who had felt the need to talk to him, after feeling like they had gone through a fever dream.

  What a f*cking asshole, the eldest Winchester had yelled, while throwing his phone away.

  He wasn’t as expressive as his brother, but Sam shared the same state of mind. He was still processing, especially considering what he had left behind, but now that everything was back the way it used to be, the seven years he had spent in that illusion of life felt like a blurry dream. They were now in control of their lives again.

  Jack and Amara had been enough to overpower Chuck —for real this time. Using his idea of a lie, they had turned him into a real human being. He had quickly gotten a chance to learn that the Universe had a really strange sense of humor, and had died a few weeks later from an unknown disease.

  One year later, on a saturday night, Dean was getting ready for his hunt. Standing in front of the Bunker’s table, he was putting away weapons in his bag, making sure that they hadn’t forgotten something that could be useful : the EMF meter, pouches of salt, guns… At some point, he frowned and rummaged at the bottom of the bag, and finally found a nunchaku.

  “What the hell?!’’ he grumbled. “Damn it, Sam!’’

  A man’s hand appeared next to his, adding a blade in the bag, which the Winchester opened a little more to give his partner a better access to it.

  “You really like this one, don’t you?’’ he said with a smile.

  Cas shrugged. “You’re the one who told me that I was going to have my favorites.’’ 

  “Right,’’ he nodded.

  The former angel was standing next to him, dressed in a leather jacket, wearing jeans and a red shirt, that completely detonated with his previous usual wardrobe. Dean was partly responsible for this new looks, he had dragged him to a few shops after Cas had came back human. 

  “You think it’ll be enough?’’ the blue eyed man asked.

  The Winchester looked up and leaned on Cas, kissing him briefly on the lips. “Looks good to me.’’ 

  A disapproving look appeared on the former angel’s face. “Dean.’’ 

  Dean raised an eyebrow. “What?’’ 

  “Did you really think I wouldn’t notice the grenade-launcher?’’ he sighed.

  While he was speaking, Cas opened the bag again, pointing out the weapon in question.

  “So what?’’ the Winchester said with an innocent look.

  “Ghosts, Dean. We’re going to fight ghosts. The grenade-launcher’s usefulness will probably be close to nada.’’ 

  “Oh yeah, because your blade is going to have so much effect on them,’’ Dean said in return in a teasing tone.

  Looking a little bit offended, Cas squinted. If a look could kill… 

  “You being so cute when you’re mad really should be a crime,’’ Dean said with an affectionate expression on his face.

  The former angel was standing still and Dean kissed him again on the lips before grabbing his hand and leading them to the Bunker’s stairs, making him follow his steps. “Let’s go, you can still sulk in the car,’’ he said in an amused tone.

  Sam appeared in the hall, coming from the corridor. “Hey,’’ he said to the couple. An intrigued look appeared on his face. “What are you up to?’’ 

  Dean and Cas exchanged a look. 

  “Nothing big, a haunted place. You know, the usual stuff,’’ the eldest Winchester shrugged.

  Sam frowned. “You got a serious lead on that?’’ 

  “Yeah, three deaths. We’re going to take a look.’’

  “If you give me a minute, I could—’’

  “No,’’ Dean interrupted him firmly. “You and Eileen got plans for tonight. Go. Watch your dancers in tights, or whatever, we’ll take care of the dead.’’ 

  Sam rolled his eyes. “Really, Dean? That’s all you’re taking away from ballets? Dancers in tights?’’ 

  “Never saw one, but I’m fine with it,’’ he answered with a half smile.

  Cas grabbed his boyfriend’s arm, pushing them in the direction of the stairs. “Don’t pay attention to him Sam,’’ he said midly-amused, midly-exasperated. “Dean is right, we’re taking care of it. Enjoy your night,’’ he ended with a smile.

  While they were leaving, Sam realized his nunchaku was in the trash. “DEAN!!!’’ 

***

  What was supposed to be a classic hunt turned out to be more challenging that what they were expecting. A demon also occupied the Warehouse, and a second one had appeared during the fight. Cas’ blade ended up being useful. After killing one of them, he was projected on a bunch of cardboards. Dean killed the other one, and once it was over, he ran in the direction of the former angel, worried.

  “Cas, you’re okay?’’ 

  “I’m fine,’’ he answered while breathing heavily. He grabbed the hand Dean was giving him. “I didn’t expect this turn of events.’’ 

  “Yeah, two little surprises that weren’t on the program,’’ Dean said, looking down at the corpses. “You’re sure you’re okay?’’ he asked again, sliding his hand along Cas’ arm.

  Cas nodded and kissed him on the cheek, near the corner of his mouth. “Don’t worry that much for me. I can handle myself. You’re human too… and you’re still here.’’ 

  “I’ve been human a lil’ bit longer than you have,’’ Dean said. “I got my fair amount of injuries before properly kicking ass, you know. Takes time.’’ 

  “Our training helped me to improve.’’

  “Good, that’s what it was meant for,’’ he said firmly.

  Dean started remembering their first trainings and what had led them to this situation. Which reminded him how things went the year before, after they had gotten back on their reality.

  Flashback - A year ago

  After learning that Chuck had manipulated them once more, Dean had locked himself into his bedroom, on the edge of breaking everything that was in it. The person he used to be probably would have done it at this point. But Cas’ words still resonated with him. Love was the force driving his actions, he wasn’t made of hate or violence, and he wanted it to be the thing that would prevail from now on. He had every intention to honor that. 

  Once he had hugged his brother and catched up with him about the recent events, Sam had left the Bunker to meet Eileen, who he had been talking to for the past hour. They both had felt the need to see each other, considering how things had gone since the last time they had interacted, the day she disappeared. With Sam away, Dean had taken the opportunity to do what he knew his little brother would probably have dissuade him to try. He had went to see Jack, who hadn’t left the Bunker yet. The young man was quietly sitting in the library when the eldest Winchester approached him, a determined look on his face. 

  “Can you open a breach to the Empty? Do you have that power?’’ 

  “I know what you’re thinking,’’ Jack said, slowly closing the book he had in his hands. “I was expecting you to ask me that. Can I do it? Sure. But… the actual state of things with the Empty is not stable enough yet. I’m… negotiating with her.’’ 

  “I have to do it, you know I can’t let him over there,’’ he ended with a trembling voice despite himself. “I’m not asking you to bring him back for me, I know it might not be possible right now, this is something I have to do by myself. I’m just asking for a little boost.’’ 

  Jack quietly nodded. “You think you can win this? That you’ll have something to offer that the Empty will be interested in?’’ 

  “Let me handle this part,’’ the Winchester replied.

  A beat.

  “So? The breach?’’ he asked again, looking impatient. He had tried to cover it, but his voice had came out as a little supplication. 

  “Of course. It’s Cas.’’ 

  Dean’s throat tightened and he had a sudden difficulty to swallow. “Yeah… exactly. It’s Cas.’’ 

  “But if things go wrong… I don’t know if I’ll be able to step in. There is a new balance, I’m not the only one ruling on the Universe, and I have no power over the Empty. That’s why I didn’t have a chance to bring Cas back myself.’’ 

  The Winchester nodded, nothing would make him change his mind. 

  A few minutes later, the breach was open. A dark circle had taken place on the Bunker’s wall, undulating and growing second after second, the same way it had the day it came to collect Cas. Dean took an inspiration and with no hesitation, threw himself into it. 

  “Good luck,’’ Jack said once the Winchester had disappeared. 

  A smile took place at the corner of his mouth. 

  He knew everything was going to unfold the way Dean had planned it.

***

The Empty was a vast place, it really was doing justice to its name. The darkness was the only thing Dean could contemplate, with no beginning nor end in sight. He wasn’t even sure that he could actually see anything beyond fifteen or twenty feet. He was destabilized at first, didn’t know where to start, turning around and contemplating the void, trying to find any form of activity, a sign of Cas’ presence. Unsure of the direction he was supposed to take, he blindly started to walk around, and did the only logical thing he could do at this moment. He called Cas’ name. Once, twice, ten times, twenty times, fifty times —but for a moment, silence was the only answer he had gotten. He shout out his name until the Empty finally appeared right before him as Meg.

  “Cas! Cas!’’ she said in a mocking voice. “WILL YOU SHUT UP??!!!’’ 

  Dean took a few seconds to adjust to his new interlocutor, on his guards. 

  His jaw clenched. “Where is he?’’ he asked firmly. He wasn’t there to negotiate.

  “You’re here to get your sweet little angel back, that’s cute… but not enough. Your weapon will have no effect on me,’’ she said while pointing out the blade he held in his left hand.

  The Winchester looked briefly in the same direction and tighten his grip on the blade even harder. “It’s not for you.’’ 

  The Empty looked intrigued. “Really?’’ 

  “Where is he?!’’ he asked again.

  She sighed while crossing her legs, sitting on her throne. “Somewhere… between here and there… I saved him a seat at my best spot.’’ 

  A creepy smile distorted her face and she raised a knowing eyebrow in Dean’s direction. Cas’ treatment was probably one of the most painful she could inflict to someone. At this mere thought, the Winchester started to feel sick in his stomach. How long Cas had been here? How many days, months, years maybe had he been stuck in this place while him and Sam were living the scenario Chuck had planned for them? 

  The Empty hadn’t seen it coming —to be honest, Dean hadn’t either— but in the second that had followed, he had thrown himself to her and gave her a powerful punch in the face, that destabilized her for a second. She sent him away from a movement of her hand, he landed harshly on the ground. Dean got up pretty quickly, but the rage hadn’t left his face, his eyes were still dark and fixated on the Empty.

  “WHERE THE HELL IS HE??!’’ 

  “You and your angelic boyfriend are really insufferable,’’ she said furious, matching his own tone. “You wanna know where he is? He’s reliving his worst torments on loop. In which you’ve done many cameos, actually,’’ she added amused. “I’m not gonna pretend I’m not enjoying watching him suffer. Because I do.’’ 

  Dean clenched his jaw. “One last time, tell me where he is or I swear I’m g-’’ 

  “You’re gonna what? Yell at me to death?’’ she said mockingly. “You can do nothing against me.’’ 

  “Maybe. But I can get quite inventive, I’ll be the biggest pain in your ass. You like quietness? I can promise you you’ll never find peace again. I’m human, you have no power over me.’’ 

  The Empty’s face suddenly fell.

  “Tell me where he is,’’ Dean said, once more.

  She looked contemplative for a few seconds and a sigh escaped her lips. “Good luck, Dean. But remember… no matter what you do, Castiel is mine.’’ 

  With a snap of her fingers, she teleported him to Cas. Dean landed harshly on the floor of a cold room, only to find himself surrounded by four walls. There was no door, no way to escape. The place was dark and he had a hard time seeing where he was, but after adjusting his vision to the place, he discerned the presence of Cas, who was lying down, facing the floor, unconscious. He wasn’t physically hurt, but the pain on his face was very telling about the hell he was emotionally experiencing in whatever the Empty was putting him through in his nightmares. His face looked worried and scared.

  Dean kneeled next to him, hanging the blade at his belt. He turned him on his back and tried to wake him up, putting a hand on his face.

  “Cas! Hey, Cas! Wake up. I need you to wake up.’’ 

  It took a little while, but after insistance, Dean finally succeeded to bring him back to conscientiousness. Cas had a hard time keeping his eyes open.

  “Dean?’’ the angel finally said in a husky voice. He wasn’t sure if he was truly awake or if dream and reality had just got mixed up again. 

  “It’s me,’’ he said. “Hey, hey, stay with me, okay?’’ he added when he saw that Cas was falling out again. He tried to keep him in a sitting position.

  “You’re not real.’’ 

  “I am. I promise you. I’m sorry it took me so long…’’ His voice broke. He kept the angel’s face between his hands, looking deep into his eyes, trying to convince him it was really him. “I’m gonna get you out, okay?’’ 

  Cas seemed lost. “Where are we?’’ 

  “The Empty. You sacrificed your life to save me, remember?’’ 

  A beat. Cas’ eyes seemed to focus and find a semblance of consistency. “I remember.’’ His face fell. “Dean… what are you doing here?’’ he said in a worried voice.

  The Winchester was baffled. “You really thought I was going to leave you rot here?’’ His throat tightened. “You saved me, Cas. More than once. You really thought I wasn’t going to look for you?’’ 

  Cas frowned. “You might not be able to leave this place.’’ 

  “Oh believe me, I will. We will. You’re coming with me.’’ 

  The angel shaked his head. “I can’t, Dean, the deal…’’ 

  Dean stopped him. “The deal doesn’t matter anymore. I have a solution.’’ 

  He took the blade at his belt and showed it to the angel, who seemed lost in return. He didn’t understand.

  “But… you have to agree with my plan,’’ he added, nervous.

  “What do you mean?’’ 

  “The Empty can only hold angels and demons. If you’re human, she won’t have any hold on you.’’ He pointed out the flask that was attached to his necklace. “If we extract your grace, if you become human… you’ll be able to come home with me.’’ 

  Dean was anxious, he didn’t know how Cas was going to react to his proposal.

  “Do you agree with this plan?’’ Dean asked hesitant.

  The angel nodded, still feeling groggy. “Of course.’’ 

  “Awesome,’’ Dean said, relieved. “Look, I don’t know what the Empty is up to, we should hurry up, okay? You’re ready?’’ 

  As a sign of agreement, Cas extended his neck, giving free access to Dean. After a short hesitation, the Winchester cut him a little with the blade, placing the flask near the incision. The process started and only took a few seconds. The blue light, glittering, started its transfer to the container, making the angel feel suddenly weaker.

  “YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO DO THAT!!’’ 

  The Empty, still wearing Meg’s traits, had just appeared next to them. Furious.

  “Castiel is mine, you had no right!’’ 

  “We did actually, and we took it,’’ Dean answered in a defiant voice, while helping Cas to get up. “He’s human now, he doesn’t belong to you anymore.’’ 

  She was about to throw herself at them but the portal leading to their world appeared again on the wall of the room they were in. Dean put Cas’ arm around his neck and led them to the breach, which they quickly got aspired by. In the next second, they were on the Bunker’s floor, catching their breath. 

  “Excellent timing, kiddo,’’ Dean said to Jack while getting on his feet.

  He promptly ran to Cas’ side, helping him to stand. He was noticeably weakened, but seemed to be okay.

  “How are you holding up?’’ he asked to the former angel, his full attention on him.

  Cas leaned a little on him. “I think I’ll be fine,’’ he assured. Cas then realized who was standing next to the table. Jack. He fixated his look on him with a questioning look and the young man finally ran to his father and took him into his arms. “I missed you, Cas.’’ 

  “How long… how long was I gone?’’ he asked while they were breaking the hug.

  Dean and Jack looked at each other, uncertain. The timeline had been changed, distorted, rebuilt. What had represented a few days for Dean had been seven years for Sam. And they didn’t even know how it was for Cas. It was a difficult question to answer. 

  “We should save this for later…’’ Dean said, with a tap on his shoulder. “Let’s take care of you first.’’ 

***

  Ten days had passed and things were back to the way they used to be. Not everything was the same, of course, but their life had now found a semblance of normalcy again. Dean had rearranged everything in Cas’ bedroom, to adjust and adapt the place to his new needs. He had given him some of his clothes and they had gone shopping to complete his wardrobe. 

  Cas was feeling way better and, like he once had to do, was now adjusting to his new life as a human, rediscovering the pleasure of eating food that didn’t taste like molecules. 

  Things with Dean had slowly changed during the course of the last few days. At first, they had been all focused on his new condition, helping him to find a new balance, but now that things were pretty much coming back to what they were, the dynamic between the hunter and the former angel had slowly became awkward and a strange tension had taken place between them. Not that they were avoiding each other, far from it, but they were walking on eggshells —even Sam had noticed it. Cas was particularly cautious about the way he was acting around Dean. After his confession, which they had never talked about since he had came back, he was very attentive to not causing any discomfort.

  Little did he know about the inner battle that was currently raging in the eldest Winchester’s mind —battle he had lost many times in the past few days, actually. Hesitation, fear of doing everything wrong, of the unknown, of giving his life a new turn, of experiencing his feelings in a way he never had before… all of this was holding him back. The love thing wasn’t something Dean was comfortable with. Not because he didn’t felt it —he felt it too much actually— but he had never been good at expressing it. He was good at pretending things didn’t affect him, his nonchalance was preserving him. But Cas’ confession had changed everything, had made every single wall he had built around his heart shiver. He had been aware of his feelings for the angel for quite a while now, years even. He had slowly realized that there was nothing brotherly about the way he was feeling about him. Their relationship had always been quite unique.

  Every time he had lost him, Dean had known. The deepness of the hurt had been beyond reparable. When he had offered him that mixtape, shortly after he had almost died a few years ago, it had been his way of expressing it, even if he knew the angel wasn’t going to understand the true meaning of such a gift. He knew it was the love language that had made his parents fall in love, and in some kind of way, it had been the language he had chosen to use. 

  But he was tired of being silent. Tired of not being who he was. Of not following his heart.

  He had no reason to hide anymore. He couldn’t pretend Cas didn’t feel the same way. All his life, he had been solely focused on Sam’s happiness, because that was all what mattered. He wished for him to have the perfect life he had always wanted. Who would have guessed that one day, Dean Winchester would start thinking about his own happiness, would believe that he might actually deserve it too. Better days were coming. They were now free, a world of new possibilities was opening to them. Maybe, just maybe, he actually deserved something different than the life made of sacrifices he had always imagined for himself.

  It hadn’t taken that long for things to take a new turn. Cas had decided to come to his first hunt as a human, which had immediately activated in Dean his protective mode. The Winchester had tried to stay as chill as he could, but he had stay right beside him, not letting him out of his sight. Once they had been back from their mission, the former angel had complained about it, telling him that he did not want to be a burden for him, which had led to a grumpy answer from the hunter.

  When Dean had come to his door that night, to make sure Cas’ wound after their hunt didn’t need more care, their conversation had derailed incredibly fast.

  Cas had been shaking his head, not breaking eye contact with the Winchester. “You should stop worrying that much about me, Dean.’’ 

  A beat.

  He had then given him an earnest answer. “Can’t. Won’t.’’ 

  They had stayed silent for a moment, staring at each other from opposite sides of the room. Dean had felt his hands become sweaty, his breath racing. He had taken a new step inside the room, had closed the door behind him. He was now standing near the entrance, his eyes fixated on Cas, who was next to his bed. The silence of the room was only troubled by the sound of their respective breath, which added some kind of weight to the moment.

  “I’ll never stop worrying about you…’’ Dean said with a new intensity, tilting his head on the side.

  He had taken a new step towards the former angel, hesitant. His eyes had been fixated on the floor for a moment, before he had brought them back on him.

  “Cas…’’ 

  He had shaken his head, opened his mouth like if he was about to say something, about to speak his own truth, but no words had come. So he had decided to do the only thing he knew how to do: let his actions speak for him.

  Once he had reduced the distance between them, Cas’ heartbeat had incredibly increased. He hadn’t dare to hope. Never. But… what if? In the spare of a few seconds, he had gotten his answer. Dean’s face had come really close to his own, his green eyes never breaking the contact with his blue ones. There was so much left unsaid, but right now, he needed to show him how he felt. He had leaned closer to him, closed his eyes and their lips had finally met. Shyly at first, but when they had realized how good it felt, how it was everything they had needed, they had reinforced their embrace. There was no hesitation left. The Winchester’s hands had cupped Cas’ face, while the former angel had wrapped his arms around him. When they had first broke the kiss, their faces remaining close, a silent tear was running through Cas’ cheek.

  “I love you too, Cas,’’ Dean finally succeeded to say, like if he was reprising their conversation from weeks before. Tears were flooding his eyes and he was shaking. “We… never talked about it, since you came back. I never got a chance to thank you for… everything. Absolutely everything, Cas. Things went so fast back then. But I want you to know how much I love you. I have for years, actually. Everything you are… and I always miss you, so much. But I never thought… I never thought we could have this. And I’m sorry, so sorry, that it took me so long to say it.’’ 

  Cas’ throat had tightened. He had been physically incapable of saying anything in return. It was all he had ever wanted, but had convinced himself he would never get. He didn’t think he would deserve it. He had taken the initiative of the second kiss, which had started as tenderly as the previous one and led them to explore a physical and emotional intimacy neither of them had known before.

  From this day, every piece of the puzzle had started to fall in place. Their life had taken a new turn —but this time, it was one they had chosen.

Present day

  Dean had just parked the Impala at a gas station. Once he had turned off the motor, he had rotated his body to face Cas’, who was sitting next to him and was consulting his phone.

  “Claire and Kaia are coming by on friday,’’ he said, meeting the Winchester’s eyes.

  “It’s her birthday, isn’t it?’’ 

  Cas nodded.

  “We should get her something,’’ Dean suggested.

  “I’m gonna need your help,’’ the former angel said, a hint of panic on his face. 

  The Winchester winked at him. “Don’t worry, I got an idea of something she might like. She loves music, right?’’ 

  Cas sighed. “Yes, she… tried to make me listen to some of it, actually. It was… quite an experience.’’ 

  Dean bursted into laugher when he remembered the day he had found Cas listening to The Pretty Reckless. 

  Since the day he had become human, Cas and Claire had been more in contact than ever. They had talked on the phone and had met each other a couple of times. Claire was still living with Jody and Donna, but along with Kaia, they were now doing things their way. The young blonde was pretty invested into the hunting life, a choice Jody and Cas weren’t sure they were approving. But she wasn’t taking no for an answer and the only thing they could do was let her make her own experience. Everyone could see that Kaia had a good influence on her, though.

  “At least, we don’t have that kind of issue with Jack,’’ the Winchester said. “Well, when he comes by,’’ he then muttered to himself. 

  The former angel agreed. “I understand his questionings way better.’’ 

  “A Nephilim who became our new God and now juggles with multi-dimensions and handles existential kind of stakes… Yeah, makes sense for you,’’ Dean said with tenderness in his voice. 

  A half smile appeared on the former angel’s lips and he shrugged. “I’m a few millions years old, Dean. I mean, I was.’’ 

  “And you’re really not doing bad,’’ he added, taking his hand in his. “You’re doing a lot of good, actually.’’ Cas tightened his squeeze, intertwined their fingers.

  Adjusting to life as a human being had been a whole new challenge, Cas was still processing and learning, even though he wasn’t a stranger to this. But with the help of Dean, Sam and Eileen, he was getting more and more comfortable and used to it. A month and a half after he had returned from the Empty, he had decided to seek for a way to help and be active in this new stage of the world. He had joined social workers in a shelter and had offered his help for the place five times a week for the past months. He had gotten very invested, and Dean had joined him more than once, especially when some supernatural events had collide with the work they were doing there.

  “Offering guidance and protection to these kids seemed more appropriate than spending days in bed watching Netflix with you… even though I really enjoy Netflix,’’ he ended with humor in his voice.

  Dean raised an eyebrow, midly-offended. “What about being in bed with me?’’ 

  The former angel rolled his eyes, accentuating his grasp on the Winchester’s hand. “Like if you didn’t already know that I enjoy that part.’’ 

  An amused smile appeared on Dean’s lips, before he became serious again, looking at Cas lovingly. “We did a lot of good lately, you and I…’’ 

  They stared silently at each other for a few seconds, lost in each other’s eyes. Cas got closer and leaned into Dean to kiss him slowly. “We did.’’ 

***

  When they arrived at the Bunker, they saw that Eileen and Sam had returned from their night out. They were now comfortably sitting on one of the couches that were in the main room and were both looking at the youngest Winchester’s screen, laughing at what they were watching.

  Dean and Cas came down the stairs and walked in their direction.

  “So, how was it?’’ the eldest Winchester asked in a skeptical voice, while putting his bag on the table.

  “Amazing,’’ Sam said with an emphasis. “I know what to get you for your next birthday.’’ 

  Dean’s face fell. “Sam, if you drag me to one of your ballet things, I’ll never talk to you again, capiche?’’ 

  The youngest Winchester shrugged, side-eyeing the former angel. “Maybe Cas wants to see one.’’ 

  “Ha! Doubt it,’’ Dean said in a pretty confident voice.

  “Well…’’ Cas seemed to seriously consider the option. “Why not.’’ 

  “What?’’ Dean said incredulous, looking at his boyfriend with a look of betrayal. “Really?’’ 

  “Life is short,’’ Cas said with a shrug. “There is a lot of different forms of art, I don’t want to limit myself to only a few of them.’’ He smiled and teasingly nudged Dean, who looked disappointed.

  “You should consider it,’’ Eileen added, laughing a little. “We made pop-corn, do you want some?’’ she then signed, pointing them the bowl that was on the table. The moment she said it, she realized it had gone empty. “I’m gonna get us some more,’’ she added.

  “I’m coming with you,’’ Cas signed.

  He put his jacket on one of the chairs and while talking about his and Dean’s last hunt to the young woman, they left the room together. The eldest Winchester and the former angel had taken some sign language classes online, adding that learning to their almost daily practice, allowing the efforts to be split in two during conversations. 

  Dean watched them leave, looking contemplative for a few seconds, and then came to sit next to his brother, after grabbing one of the beers that was on the table. 

  “No bad surprises? During your hunt?’’ 

  The eldest Winchester was lost in his thoughts and he took a moment before answering. “Two demons, who came out of nowhere. But we got rid of them pretty easily. They were the ones responsible for the attacks and murders. The ghosts were harmless…’’ 

  “They’re gone too?’’ 

  “Yup, we did what we had to do.’’ 

  “Awesome, I’m gonna put the informations on the app.’’

  “Don’t worry about it, Cas did it on our way home,’’ he said while patting his brother’s leg.

  “Good. Hey, did you know that the app had now spread in Europe and Australia?’’ Sam said while showing him the screen of his computer. “Charlie took care of everything.’’ 

  Dean smiled proudly. “They would have been stupid not to do it. It’s a genius idea that you had.’’ 

  As soon as they had found their free will again, Sam had spent months thinking about what was going to be his next step. With the exception of his relationship with Eileen, which was the only thing he was pretty much confident about, the possibilities about his future, especially in terms of career, were very uncertain. The life he had in Chuck’s ending was now a fuzzy memory, but it had led him to question his ambition.

  After hesitating, he had decided to follow his gut and pursue his will to become a teacher. Law school was his past self’s dream and after years of fighting, he had realized that he wanted to pass on his knowledge and connect with other people. At the same time, he had developed an app with the help of Charlie, that was reuniting hunters in the same virtual place and allowing them to share precious informations about their hunts, the supernatural spots, informations and datas about the creatures they had fought, the places and dates of their hunts. Every case that was solved was signaled as such on the app. 

  It was a worldwide and virtual version of John Winchester’s journal, that had allowed him to unite thousands of hunters through the world and had facilitated the fight against ghosts, demons and other creatures. Sam had invested a lot of time in the making of the app, which was now the biggest database that ever existed on the subject. Rowena, as the Queen of Hell, had a better control over the demons than it was the case by the past, but many of them were still off her authority.

  Watching his little brother be so invested in his new missions had made Dean very proud.

  “You’re doing great, Sammy,’’ he said while looking at his brother. “The way you handled this whole thing… you made a difference.’’ 

  He raised his beer in Sam’s direction.

 “I don’t know if you realize it, but you’re not doing so bad either,’’ Sam said after a few seconds of silence.

  Dean shrugged. “Doing my best.’’

  “The bar is practically yours, Dean. There’s only some paperwork left, it’s a done deal.’’ 

  For the past month, the eldest Winchester had started to see his dream of possessing his own bar slowing become a reality. They had found it during one of their hunts in Lebanon, with Cas, Sam and Eileen. It was well located but the place had been haunted for years and the previous owners had much trouble selling it. In exchange for the Team Free Will’s services, they had offered to sell it to Dean at a very interesting price.

  “I guess,’’ Dean said with a proud little smile 

  “And Cas…’’ Sam added gently. “You seem to be doing great together. After all these years… you deserve it.’’ He tried not to push too much, knowing how bashful his big brother could get on this kind of topics.

  Dean was looking at his hands, but his face had clearly brightened up. He nodded. “From day one, he changed everything for me.’’ 

  Sam smiled. “Who would have believed it.’’ 

  “All those years ago, I wouldn’t have seen us coming this far.’’ 

  “Clearly, me neither…’’ 

  The youngest Winchester was hesitant for a second, looking nervously in the direction of the framing of the door Eileen and Cas had went through.

  “You know… I’m gonna propose to her,’’ he finally said.

  Dean’s eyes went wide open, even though he wasn’t exactly surprised, knowing his brother.

  “I’ve been thinking about it for a while now… I’m confident that what we have is what I’ve been looking for my whole life. Everything just… clicks, when I’m with her. I didn’t think it would happen again, after Jess.’’ 

  Dean bowed his head for a second, smiling. 

  “You’re… you’re not going to cry, right?’’ 

  “What?! Me? NO!’’ Dean replied in a defensive voice. He took a new sip on his beer, trying to hold it together. “I’m just very happy for you, Sammy.’’ 

  He took his little brother in his arms, gently patting him on the back.

  “Are you scared?’’ he asked once they ended the hug.

  The youngest Winchester sighed. “A little… I mean, I’m not really afraid that she would say no, even if this is a possibility, of course. But, I trust what we have and I know she’s sharing my dream of building our own family.’’ 

  Dean looked confused. “What scares you then?’’

  “Well… the last time I thought about marriage, it was with Jessica… and I lost her. In the worst possible way.’’ 

  “Our lives went pretty well since the day we defeated Chuck.’’ 

  “I know, but… a part of me is still afraid that everything is going to be taken away from me, you know? We lost so much since our childhood, I’m just… not yet used to things being so simple. I don’t know if that makes sense?’’ he said, looking at his brother.

  Dean slowly nodded, with an understanding look. “It does. I woke up more than once in the middle of the night just to make sure Cas was still lying down next to me…’’ 

  “We had our share of traumas and losses…’’ Sam sighed, taking the beer he had left on the floor. “To a better future,’’ he finally said, raising his bottle for a toast.

  “To a better future.’’ 

THE END