#i was expecting her to be there as an accessory to dean like so many other characters are

[ardentpoop]

it's driving me fucking nuts that mary only ever tries to contact dean lmfao

whenever she gets his voicemail im like hey have you tried calling your other son. remember him. they're literally always together if u wanna talk to dean so bad

[1-800-local-slut]

All I Want (3/3)

(I know it's not technically a picture of Dean, but Jensen Ackles is so handsome)

Dean Winchester x Black! Fem! Reader (One-sided)

Sam Winchester x Black! Fem! Reader

Warnings: one sided love, pining, reader and Sam get horny and leave Dean to himself, Dean tries to move on and fails miserably, Dean thinks badly about himself, drinking, Dean wants reader bad but she's in love with Sam, Dean's really scared and really guilty, drinking and driving (don't drink and drive kids, always have a designated driver!) reader wears jewelry, most (if not all) of the female characters have a lot of accessories (lipgloss, nails, lashes, mascara, jewelry) because a lot of my works are self-indulgent and I'm a girly-girl so I like being dressed up and having a lot of accessories on so if its not for you just ignore it

Part 3 of 3! Thank you to everyone who read and commented, I'm so happy this series did so well. I honestly wasn't expecting it, I had literally nothing planned when I wrote it and just winged it. Thank you and enjoy the final part!

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He can remember when it all started. For weeks he had lost sleep when Sam announced that he was in love with his girlfriend of nine months. It was when they were on a hunt and the two narrowly made it back. He always thought Sam's girlfriend was cute, but he didn't know it was this bad. He ignored the fluttering of his heart the best he could for weeks. He ignored the way he always wanted to smile at her whenever she was near by.

He can remember the first night he realized how awful his entire predicament really was.

"She's cute, right babe?" She asked, wrapping her arms around Sam's neck, while she sat comfortably on his lap. The three looked at a dark skinned woman with blonde, curly braids with some very elaborate and fancy eyeliner.

"Sure." Sam responded, more focused on the feel of her thighs under his calloused palms. The couple was sitting in a booth at a club in Georgia, and like always she'd found her spot on Sam's lap. Tonight was different though.

A very uncomfortable feeling radiated through Dean, the look in Sam's eyes made his stomach turn. He stared at his girlfriend with an intense heat that made Dean feel like he was intruding on the two. His eyes a dark, lustful green, as his hands run up and down her thighs. Stopping just below her dress. Her eyes radiated the same desire, and she was staring at his hands. It was like seeing the opening to a porno that Dean would sooner carve his eyes out than watch.

Turning his head, he grabbed another shot and tilted his head back. The tequila burned the back of his throat, and he choked a bit. She giggled at his gagging, and Sam gave a small smile while holding onto her waist. Dropping his head back after he cleared his chest, he began to draw small symbols on the table. His heart felt like it was in his throat, the liquor not the only thing burning in his chest. It was worse on nights like this. The nights where he could see their desire for each other. At least they weren't at home, and Dean could escape to his own motel room.

"Dean, you should make a move. She's looking at you." She pointed out, while she fidgeted with her glass. Dean stopped staring at the table, looking up at the woman. He turned, the flashing lights of the club giving him a small headache. He was getting older everyday.

"Oh. Yeah." He responded glumly. No doubt the woman was beautiful. Her eyes looked so dark it was like looking into pools of ink. Her blonde curly ends were basically motioning for him to come hither. This could work.

In the past few weeks, Dean found the resolve to try and move on. Why pine over a woman he could never have when there were so many he could have? He was Dean Winchester. Sure this would technically be the one that got away but he's had quite a few of those.

"You should try talking to her." Drinking her rum and coke, Dean tried to keep his eyes off her perfect lips.

"Yeah, you've been going through a dry spell lately. When's the last time you got laid?" Sam asked, drinking from the straw that was held up in front of him. She swatted his shoulder, and Sam laughed in a weak attempt to avoid the next hit. Dean grimaced, his dry spell was noticeable and it killed him.

It wasn't entirely his fault. They'd been busy! Dean had been busy admiring Sam's girlfriend. Just thinking about it makes him shudder, he really was down bad. It would change tonight though. Dean would pick a girl, one that looked nothing like her, and he'd do what he does best. Then he'd finally be able to move on and forget about her.

"Sam, that's mean! Dean has better things to do than chase skirts, maybe you should take a page from his book." Sam squeezed her thighs and she leaned into his touch, eyes glued to his hands. Taking another shot, Dean shut his eyes for a minute to let the liquor settle.

Opening his mouth for a rebuttal, he was cut off by a high pitched voice.

"Excuse me?" The three of them turned to see the woman from the bar staring right in front of their table. Her hands were clasped behind her back and Dean could see her chest up close. Like two large oranges, covered in silver glitter. She was wearing a gorgeous pink dress with mesh sleeves that showed her shoulders.

"Hi there!" Out of the three of them, she was always the sweetest when it came to strangers. If Dean had social graces, she was the queen of social skills.

The woman's eyes stayed glued on Dean's and she was looking at him with want. Dean gave a small smile that he had to force onto his face. He wished the smile came to his face as naturally as it did when the woman across smiled at him. Her bright grin always gave Dean an easy smile, like a contagious grin.

"I was just wondering if your friend wanted to join me for a drink. I'm April."

"Dean. I'd love to get a drink with you, beautiful." April gave a flirty laugh and batted her eyelashes at him, and Dean slid out of the booth trying to still the thudding of his chest. Glancing back, Dean shot a thumbs up to Sam and his girl. April's soft hand wrapped around Dean's large ones, leading him back to her stool.

"What'll you have?" She asked seductively, and Dean wanted to frown so badly. He fought to keep his eyes on April, not on Sam and the goddess of a woman sitting on top of him.

"A beer if you don't mind." Wiping his sweaty palms down his pants, he hoped she wouldn't notice how much his hands were sweating. Or how much he was sweating.

It felt wickedly warm in the crowded club, and when Dean glanced back at his brother. The large man was gone, and so was his girlfriend. Had he been ditched? Left all alone with April?

"A beer and a martini please." April waved over the bartender. She looked back at him and cleared her throat lightly, pulling back his attention.

It was good he was left with April, his only distraction now gone.

"So April, where are you from?" Time to turn on some of his famous charm.

"Atlanta, you?"

"They make angels in Atlanta now?" After a moment, April averted her gaze. She looked a bit flustered, and their drinks were placed down in front of them.

"Cheesy." She laughed and Dean gave a laugh of his own. This was working. He didn't feel a large desire for April, but he was out of his own head for the first time that night.

"I know. I'm from Kansas, but if women like you are just roaming around down here I might need to move." Taking a sip of the beer, he felt the liquor starting to kick in.

"What brings you to Georgia?"

"My brother, his girlfriend and I are here for a trip."

"That girl sitting on him? She was cute, they look good together." April commented thoughtfully. Oh God, why did he mention her? The memories of her were like a punch to the gut, rushing right back to him.

"Yeah. Make each other real happy." It was the best he could muster. He meant it too. Sam and his lady make each other happy. It makes Dean happy. Tonight, Dean would be happy with April.

"Do you have anyone who makes you happy like that?" April asked, placing a hand on his knee. Her hand felt warm on his knee and he smirked. Placing his hand over hers, he scooted himself closer to her.

"You can make me happy like that." The two leant in then met each other for a deep kiss in the middle. Dean held her face in her hands, feeling her soft lips on his. She pushed him back a bit, sliding off the chair and standing over him.

They separated for air before she pressed another aggressive kiss to his lips, leaving her sticky gloss on his lips. Pulling away again, Dean followed her lips.

"We should dance." Dean nodded, following her pulling him to the dance floor. The music thrummed in his ears, the bass reverberated through him. For once, all he could focus on was April. She really was pretty.

Long blonde hair and a neon dark pink dress made her look like Barbie. Her white eyeliner drew elaborate patterns. The glitter on her body shimmered beautifully, and her dark eyes were calling him to her bed and into her arms. She smelt like coconuts and mocha. Under the flashing lights, her makeup glowed in the dark.

They began to dance, slowly at first and she pressed her hips to his. Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pressed her chest against his. His hands found her hips, and they began to grind to the beat of the music. He was feeling like Dean again, feeling like nothing stood in his way outside of his personal issues.

She whispered his name as his grasp tightened around her hips.

Then it happened. It was like a path cleared, and Dean saw her. Her tight dress wrapped around her, hips moving on Sam. She was throwing it back on his little brother in a sensual fashion, and Sam's hands were tight on her hips. Sam's brows were furrowed in intense focus, watching her hips move on his crotch. With each jump of her hips, Dean felt his heart sink.

April basically disappeared, even though he could still feel her lips pressing glossy kisses to his neck. He wanted to push her off of him.

If April was an angel, she was a goddess. It was like she was basically calling him over. Her dark bohemian braids were falling over her shoulders like a waterfall. Sam's tongue poked out of his lips in deep focus.

April turned them around, thankfully saving Dean from falling back into his heart ache. He could feel his heart crawling back to his throat, and he was on the verge of dying of a broken heart. April pressed her lips back to his, but Dean couldn't have as much passion before. All thoughts of April were replaced by thoughts of her.

As they danced under the flashing lights, Dean's eyes found their way back to Sam and his girlfriend. Now they were making out again, Sam taking in handfuls of her.

Dean couldn't help but watch with pitiful eyes as the realization set in the longer he looked their way.

They pulled apart, and Sam whispered something in her ear. She nodded, and Sam pressed a hard kiss to the top of her head. The two started for the club exit, and it was like she was taking Dean's heart with him.

April was still dancing with him and he couldn't hide his sigh. He couldn't do it. He pulled her off him, and avoided making eye contact. The tips of his ears turned red from embarrassment, his neck felt hot. April looked at him with confusion, waiting for some sort of explanation.

"Hey I'm sorry. I think I had too much to drink, I can't do this. I'm not feeling the best." He stammered awkwardly. April's face slowly fell in disappointment. Then she looked sympathetic, understanding that he felt like he was close to throwing up. Not for the reason she thought. He felt sick of sadness and self disappointment.

"Oh...I'm sorry. Are you okay, do you need help or something?" Rubbing his shoulder, Dean shrugged it off and shook his head.

"No I'm fine, I think I'm just gonna head out. It was nice meeting you." April nodded, watching Dean wave her goodbye and head for the door as well. His mind and heart raced, the feeling of jealousy replaced with fear.

He made it to Baby, the cool air of the night breezing his face. His head spun, the ground feeling unsteady under his feet. His legs felt like jelly and he unlocked the car door. Crawling into the driver's seat, Dean took a deep breath, attempting to steady his heart beat but he couldn't do it no matter what.

He was in deeper than he thought. He knew he had it bad, he knew he wanted her so badly that it was almost insane but he didn't realize it was this bad. He could hear his blood pounding in his ears, like he was still in the club.

His hands shook with guilt. It was his little brother. How could he want to take away something so precious from his little brother? How could he want to do that? How could he not talk himself out of it?

April didn't work. Drinking didn't work. Dancing with someone else didn't work. Nothing was working. No matter what he tried, it just wasn't working. His stomach turned, and he felt his throat dry up.

His eyes stung with tears of frustration. Why didn't it work? He knew why. There was no replacing her. There was no replacing someone so beautiful, inviting, intriguing. Someone with such a broad personality couldn't be replaced. She haunted Dean, like an awful memory or a terrible hangover. She wasn’t just beautiful, her entire personality was. Her very soul was. Every part of her was. It was like she cleaned his spirit just by being near him.

His brother was happy. For the first time since Jess, Sam found a girl who he could be himself with. A girl who loved Sam for Sam and here was Dean wanting her for himself. Sam deserves her. Sam deserves someone who shows him he's worth love. Who shows him just how much she cares for nothing in return. A person who understands him in ways Dean couldn't.

Dean was terrible, terrible for his shameful desires. The tears felt hotter than hell, scolding down his cheeks. A silent sob shook through his body. He ran away from a gorgeous woman because he wanted what his brother had. No. It wasn't about wanting what Sam had. He never cared about Sam having a girl or not, the way Sam never cared who Dean shacked up with. It was about her. Dean wanted her and no one else.

He had it bad, he had the type of feelings that don't just go away because of a night with someone else. He realized then that when she left that night with Sam she truly did take his entire heart with him. And there was no getting it back.

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Thank you all for reading! Please let me know what you thought <3

Taglist:

@roseblue373

@midnightmaurader

I hope you guys enjoyed this series <3

[kerryweaverlesbian]

for the ask thing->😅🥺🤡😈🛒✨️💌❌️👀🧠🤲✅️ (for the 🧠 i choose cas hehe)

omg thats so many but 👉👈 yk

mwuah <3

I just spent a FULL half hour trying to find the post this was from and I finally found it by remembering I reblogged it from @castielsprostate and getting to August 6th from another post and scrolling down to august 4th from there. Anon if you're out there....my answer is crossing time and space to reach you....also BIG KISS FOR Y9OU AS WELL

😅 What's a story or scene you've created that you're a smidge embarrassed exists?

I'll be honest, I think this one, ineffable husbands observatory date was kinda cowardly haha. In it I pretend like Aziraphale wasn't fully about to shoot a kid. I think I should have let that be a true moment of darkness! These days I wouldn't shy away from it I think.

🥺 Is there a certain type of moment or common interaction between your characters that never fails to put you in your feels?

uargh. 'I don't need to be taken care of' 'but I WANT to take care of you'. Kills me dead every time.

🤡 What's a line, scene, or exchange you've written that made you laugh?

haha almost every fic I write has something that made me laugh!! An undervalued one, from my Jo/Bela heist fic:

She doesn’t get like this. She doesn’t get distracted on the job, she doesn’t get flustered over sly little compliments, she doesn’t want to be seen. Why did it have to be here, now, on her biggest job in years? “You know,” Jo says, unperturbed by the mental anguish she was causing, biting off the end of the thread with her teeth, “since we’re partners, we should get matching balaclavas.” And why was it for someone so stupid? “All balaclavas are matching,” Bela says, and Jo smiles up at her cheekily, proving she only said it to wind her up, “and we’re not partners.” “We’re totally partners! We look out for each other.” “No. You’re not on my level. It’d be like saying Michelangelo and his finger painting niece were partners.” “Fine,” Jo huffs, “accomplices?” “You are an accessory at best.” “Yeah? Do I rate above or below your shoes?” Bela pretends to think about it. “So far my shoes have done more quality work for this shindig than you, so I suppose the jury is still out.”

Actually you know what. Fuck it I'm doing 2. You can't stop me!!!! This is from my Cas timetravels to the episode Faith fic

"What year is it?" Cas asks suddenly. "Uh." Maybe he shouldn't tell him. That's one of those concussion questions, right? He doesn't want to fuck up his examination. "What year do you think it is?" "It is certainly within the AD range," Cas says, deadpan, and he doesn't laugh when Dean does but his frown does lighten. He looks expectant, so Dean caves: "It's 2005. The year of the rooster. Or, as I like to say, the year of -" "Cock. Yes. I've heard it before."

😈 Has there been a point in a story where you did something just to be playfully mean to your readers?

hmmmmm! There is one in one that I'm writing right now in fact! This is Endverse Cas, talking to Dean about Endverse Dean:

"Did you know," Cas says, leaning right into Dean's space, the smell of weed and dank sweat rolling off him, "He trusts me. He needs me. He - what did he say? Oh, yeah. He couldn't do this without me."

A cruel play on the Crypt scene - "I need you". Maybe people won't pick up on it but I have the intention of being mean.

🛒 What are some common things you incorporate in your fics? Themes, feels, scenes, imagery, etc.

Themes....you ask me of themes...would you ask mozart of staves...jdsavbhfav I'm kidding about. I love themes my book club and anyone I've beta'd for will tell you!! In my own work, I like animal imageryyyyy. Dean is a dog (and sometimes rabbits), Bela is a rabbit, Jo is a horse, Cas is birds. I like scenes characters talking around things but both understanding what they mean. OR, the inverse, when one of them THINKS they're being perfectly clear and straightforward and the other one is coming to very different conclusions. And grief. And absence highlighted by an intense focus on objects. I think that last one is most clearly done in The Aftermath, Time/Body Problem and Brought to the Flame. I OBVIOUSLY love make-out scenes lol. Scenery used as character! It is the only way I am able to write scenery!!

✨ Give you and your writing a compliment. Go on now. You know you deserve it. 😉

I am...good at weaving scenes together. Dialogue and exposition and jokes and deeper character moments. Pacing, I think, would be the word. I heard some advice from the guy who wrote Not Going Out: if you end a scene high, the next "should" (usually) start or become low, and vice versa. We did it! We fucked it up. Things are looking fucking bleak. There's a moment of hope!! Peaks and valleys yknow. See here I am deflecting my compliment to someone else's advice ajkfsjbv. I write good original characters who don't distract from the narrative, how about that!! And titles! You didn't ask but my favourite titleset I've ever done is my [aged up]Bela/Edward kinky series Frames of Mind. The first is called Metacognition because Edward is thinking about Bela thinking about him (and metacognition means thinking about thought) and the second is Projection because Edward is mentally prjecting himself into the threesome Bela is in. And Bela's putting him in there too, in her mind. Also, I do a lot of stupid jokes in these, I was seriously debating a third in that catagory. I suggest that Edward turned one of his pet mice into a vampire, and that Bela's being lusted after by a swamp monster. <3

💌 How do you feel about comments and feedback?

I LOVE THEM. I LOVE I AM IN LOVE. To any person who has ever commented on anything I've ever written (apart from that one bot lol) I kiss you I kiss you I kiss you a thousand times. Knowing that people took the time to read my works and say what they thought, even if they thought "<3" or "nice"...it's so kind. Also every beta reader I've ever had, I keep their joyful comments active so I can reread them over and over <3 shout out to @sonorousangels @eboyeasy @homoangel @sweater-soup and @mrcowboydeanwinchester <3

❌ What's a trope you will never write?

Never, huh....? Hm. I like a lot of things, I think there's a way to make pretty much any trope interesting if you think about it long enough. I think it's unlikely that I'd ever write something with a matchmaker!character, like, get a life? lol. It's often foisted on Sam or ANY nearby female character. BUT I do think you could make that interesting potentially, if that character was the protagonist. Like, why ARE you so obsessed with them, why DON'T you have anything going on in your own life, how can you break out of that and come to see your friends as people again instead of dollies?

btw, complete tangent, one time at [redacted] I met an old lady and told her my name and she said. "You have the same name as my dolly." Not even, the doll has the same name as ME. I have the same name as HER DOLL. Horror movie type interaction.

👀 Tell me about an up and coming wip please!

Perhaps I should have preread these questions and mentioned my smoking sequel here lmao. OH WELL. I will talk about another!

I am working on a Cas timetravel fic wherein (late-)s4 Castiel (who is considering rebellion) gets pulled to...s15? ish? And Dean is NOT coping well with having a younger Castiel who doesn't have anything to resent Dean for yet, and Cas is trying to reconcile his jealousy and his resurfaced guilt (this Castiel hasn't done any of the things Cas despises himself for yet, and he's lonely and untethered, but he's also not as much of a Person and Cas can only take so much Angel Mode Bluntness and he misses Jack while Castiel it there). Also. Well the Castiels do make out but I mean. It's my fic. It was sort of inevitable.

🧠 Pick a character, and I'll tell you my favorite headcanon for them. Castiel.

Cas is the tv angel!!!!!! He doesn't read very much, he watches tellyvision! He watches old sit coms at any available moment, and he does NOT get the MAJORITY of the jokes but he adores the laugh track and I love him. And, king of sick burns that he is, he'd pick up some good ones. I think if he was explaining it, perhaps to Dean, he'd say something like that he likes that "Humans have, with every theme and concept available to them, so often chosen to imagine a softer world, where the consequences are limited to a punchline, and there is a constant unity and connection with others. When you laugh at Niles Crane, you laugh with every other being in that room at that time. A snapshot of the past, with its defined limits, to a timeless creature such as myself, it has a remarkable beauty. Also, I enjoy the antics of the little dog."

🤲 Would you please share a snippet of a wip?

I REALLY should have read ahead haha. This is frommmmm I can't really say what it's about without spoilers. Um. It is a plot fic wherein Cas returns post-empty and Dean is a little TOO happy about it. This is from the opening:

Cas wakes up in a car wreck. He pushes himself up from the smoking bonnet gingerly, and hears the crumple of metal below. He'd made an impact; a whole stack of rusted vehicals have been crushed beneath him, threatening the integrity of the surrounding towers of scrap. He doesn't remember the fall. The last thing he remembers is - Dean, the confession, the debt being paid. There's a pervasive ache in his muscles and his heart is beating at a sickening pace, as if he'd been running for a long time. It's possible that he had been. [...] "Dean?" Cas asks, and gets an answer he didn't expect. There's a tired sigh on the other end of the line, and Sam's voice says: "Who is this helping?" "Sam, it's me. I'm at Bobby's. I need someone to pick me up." A faint, plastic-y creak. Cas imagines Sam pressing his flip phone against his forehead. His voice is distant, mournful, "Can't you guys leave any bodies in the ground?" "Sam?" "It's not going to work. I wish you'd all stop trying." Closer, now, louder, "Just leave him alone, you hear me? You better leave him the hell alone!" The line goes dead. Cas tries calling again, but even with his Grace it doesn't go through...

✅ What's something that appears in your fics over and over and over again, even if you don't mean to?

Haha, Meg. Okay, serious answer...............whenever I do sex it always turns romantic and sweet at some point. Even the "rough sex" in my jo/bela heist, it IS rough sex and then ALSO Jo says "You're really special and I like you". In my kinky vampire rimming fic! When they just reference having other sex offscreen in my struck by lighting blowjob fic! The closest I get to not going crazy romantic is in the pseudo-sex scenes of my grace feeding fic but even then it's echoed in a sweetie darling honeypie way later.

I think I may deep down be a romantic at heart.

Uah the end!! Did you know I have posted 54 fics to Ao3??? That's wild. 39 of them are for the CW's Supernatural. Thank you sooooooo much for asking meeee as you can see I love talking about my own writing. I put a lot of thought into it!

[grayyylake99]

LITERALLY WHAT IVE BEEN SAYING!!!

Why do people scream HISTORICAL ACCURACY when the og movies were never accurate to begin with???? Yes, it’s a movie about dragons; we know that. But the Vikings in the og franchise NEVER EVEN CALLED THEMSELVES VIKINGS IN HISTORY. There’s so many things that the characters do in the franchise that make sense to us as a Western audience, but were definitely not something they did in real life. It’s just a culture inspired but what we now call the Viking period.

Yes, I was suprised they casted a woman of color as Astrid; yes, I was expecting all casting to be exactly the same as the animated counterparts. But does it really matter at the end of the day? No! Nico Parker has her face shape, she has her beauty, she’s a great actress. I can’t say much because we have not seen her performance yet, but so long as she is true to WHO Astrid is, that’s what is needed.

Nico Parker looks fantastic as Astrid with beautiful braids and blonde streaks. Her outfits look great! I do wonder why she’s wearing red instead of blue in many scenes, but personally, I think they’re capturing the essence of her look in terms of accessories.

I’m not saying I 100% back this movie up. Not matter how positive I may be, as a die hard fan, I never wanted nor asked for a live action adaptation. I do not believe it is necessary and makes it seem like animation is not enough. I wish they re-released the originals to captivate “new” audiences.

I don’t like the castings for the twins, I don’t like how fake the arena looks. I don’t like the “new” take on the HTTYD theme. There’s probably more I’ll have complaints about. But I’m gonna be positive. My young sister is excited. I see her excitement for it. And dang it am I making her watch EVERYTHING in the HTTYD franchise. It’s been fun.

But I still want to see it. I personally see passion being put into by the actors that were excited to be apart of it. I haven’t had too much faith in Dean DeBlois’ writing since HTTYD 3, but I truly see his passion for this world and I, too want to see this project succeed.

I give credit where credit is due and criticize what I personally don’t like. I understand the dislike against it.

At the end of the day, i chose peace over being angry, and will be looking forward to the release date.

“It’s not historically accurate! It’s cultural appropriation! Why doesn’t Astrid have blonde hair and blue eyes?!?”

I mean, Vikings didn’t wear horned helmets OR have American/Canadian/Scottish accents or even ride fucking DRAGONS but I didn’t see any of you cry about historical inaccuracy then. Just say you’re racist and move on.

[estrel]

for @ickyv29​ ‘s prompt: Claire taking Jack out of the bunker so Cas and Dean can set up a surprise party? Chaos ensues. 

here you go !! jack looks like he’s in his teens for this one, but he did that just to hang out w claire god bles <3 also falls into transnatural,, you’ll see why (^:

It’s always spooky seeing Jack age up in front of her very eyes. One second he’s practically just a step up from a toddler, and the next, Jack is taller than Claire and wearing the exact same goofy smile on his face.

She supposes the one good thing that comes out of it is that none of them have to guess at what he’ll look like in the future when he’s older. He still looks just the same as he does when he’s three feet tall or whatever, except that maybe he seems a little calmer, and Claire feels a little more comfortable talking to him as if they’re friends rather than...half...step...siblings? 

Which is why she agrees to take care of him for the day, with the intention of showing him her favorite “grown up” spots, though she promises Dean that everything they’re doing will be kosher.

It’s not.

“Okay Jack,” Claire claps a hand on his shoulder, much sturdier than the one she’s used to poking at when they’re playing with legos on the Bunker floor. “Are you ready to be a big kid now?”

He nods fervently and she smiles, pulling a little on his shirt sleeve so that he’ll follow her into the mall.

The grown up spots she intends to take Jack to are mild, at best. She just thinks he should be able to get the full teenage experience, even if she never really did, and he isn’t really a teen. 

The first place they stop at is Claire’s, rightfully so. Jack, like everyone else she has ever known, points at the sign and nudges her. She expects the usual comment about “they named you after the store,” but instead he says, “They named the store after you,” and she nods her head in agreement.

“Sure did,” she says, “how do you feel about getting your ears pierced?”

They step inside, and Jack takes in all the rows of merchandise. “Pierced? Won’t Dad and Dee and Sam get mad?” 

Claire shrugs, watching Jack’s eyes light up when he sees the over-the-top girly accessories. “No big deal, you can always just heal the holes right up with your super powers, can’t you?” 

She calls Jack’s nephil magic “super powers” to please him, under the guise that it makes more sense to passerby if she’s talking to a four year old about super powers rather than angel mojo. 

It does the job, so he agrees, and the next thing she knows, they’re walking out of Claire’s with a bag full of flowery headwear and Jack’s two pierced ears.

Claire would be lying if she said her heart wasn’t racing thinking about the potential lecture she’d receive from Jack’s dads. But it was worth it to see Jack look at her like she hung the moon, a hand constantly raising to touch tentatively at his ears. 

“Next up,” she announces, “mani-pedis.”

“What’s that?”

Claire holds out her hand, chipped with black nail polish. “Nail painting. You’re gonna love it.”

She’s not really the type to get a manicure—in fact, Claire’s probably only had one in her life when she was like eight—but half of these (all of these) activities are more so to cater to Jack on his birthday, and the stuff he’d enjoy (and also whatever would piss off Dean the most).

And she’s right—Jack loves the little foot bath with the fancy water jets, and giggles the whole time the lady is scrubbing at his feet and nails. He enthusiastically asks for rainbow colors (a different color on each finger and toe), and Claire has to explain that he’s gotta wait patiently for them to dry or else they’ll get messed up.

“Do you like the rainbows?” Jack asks, showing them to her when they leave. She gets a feeling there’s a certain importance to the question that she’s missing, but she nods and gives him a careful fist bump. “Rainbows are sick,” she says.

“Sick,” Jack repeats, “that’s not good. Do they need medicine? What do they have?”

Claire snorts and waves him off, “No, dummy. Sick like...’cool.’”

“Ohhh,” Jack visually internalizes that thought for safekeeping, “sick.”

Claire checks her phone while they stuff their faces with mall pizza, quickly answering Kaia’s messages with a smile, assuring Jody that all is well, and sending Dean snarky comments about their surprise party taking forever to set up.

She sets her phone down to pay attention to Jack again, only to find him staring at her already, a contemplative look in his face.

“Uh...do I have food on my face or something?”

Jack shakes his head. “I had a...question.”

Oh. She leans her elbows on the table, crossing her forearms. “Okay, shoot.”

“You like girls,” he starts, and she hides an amused smirk, “and Dad and Dee like each other...but. I don’t like anybody yet because I’m not old enough and I don’t know anyone my age.”

You’re also a four year old half-angel being that’s presenting like he’s eighteen, she wants to supply, but Claire only shrugs. “You don’t gotta like anybody kiddo. Sometimes people just want friends, and that’s fine.”

He nods seriously, eyebrows furrowed. “Okay. But what about... me?”

“What about you?”

“Well I’m...I like boy things,” he says, “but I like girl things too. Does that mean I’m like Dee?”

“Bisexual?” Claire supplies, and then scrunches her face up a little, “like you said, bud, I think you’re too young to tell--”

“I know,” he chirps, and then studies his nails. “I don’t mean like that. I mean...I like those things... for me. Like, tutus and capes and man-ee-cures, and cowboy hats.”

Claire takes a second to think it over, and then it all clicks. “Oh! You mean your gender, right?”

“I think so,” he says. 

“Well all that stuff you listed has to do with gender expression. And really, anyone can dress or look however they want, regardless of pronouns or orientation. But...put it this way, would it make you feel better if people referred to you as ‘she’ and ‘her?’“

Jack shakes his head. “No...”

“Do you like ‘he’ and ‘him’?” A nod. “What about ‘they’ and ‘them’?” There’s a pause, Jack mulling it over, before he nods.

“Is it okay to have more than one?” 

“Totally okay.”

“Then yes,” they sit straighter, “I like both.”

“Cool,” Claire smiles, holding up a fist for another fist bump. Jack knocks their knuckles against hers. 

“Sick,” he agrees. 

Just then her phone starts to buzz, lighting up with a text from Cas that says ‘we’re done. you can come back now (:’ 

She looks back up at Jack with their pierced ears and rainbow nail polish.

“On second thought,” she says, standing and offering her hand, “I think they’ll love it.”

[starlost-andfound]

undercover // z.d.h

Requested by a wonderful anon

Request : Ok hear me out. Zach and his girlfriend go to the movies then the boys crash their date going undercover. And Corbyn accidentally spills the drink all over Zach's girlfriend.

Summary: Y/n is an influential leader on the dark side, known as Cobra. Zach is a secret agent working to eliminate the dark side. His mission? Y/n.

W/C: 1.86 K

A/N: Made my own little twist to the request ;)

A/n+ : @angelmarais​ I gave Jonah an angel necklace in his lil special appearance, it does nothing to the story line, I just put it there for you in this Zach fic, to lure you back into Zach’s lane no reason.

Zach closed the button on his suit and adjusted the sleeve of his blazer as he entered the hall. The large room was buzzing with chatter and glittering with the tall chandeliers and expensive accessories adorned by the guests. He scanned the crowd, his eyes meeting the bartender’s who kept the stare a second longer than normal.

He slipped through the groups of people, making his way to the bar.

The bartender glanced at him as he wiped a glass with a cloth. Zach noted his built form and the fading blonde strands of hair into brunette. The bartender placed the glass down, “Drink?”, he asked, propping his hands onto the table.

Zach glimpsed down at his arm where the permanent sketch of an anchor peeked out from his rolled up sleeve. He took a seat on the stool, “One Lotus Flower on the rocks.”

The bartender looked Zach up and down, “We don’t serve that here. I can offer you some whiskey.”

He turned around reaching for a bottle of whiskey when Zach spoke again.

“They served it at the Inn once, in 1706.”

The bartender hesitated a moment before pouring a bit of whiskey into a glass, topping it with some ice cubes and water. He passed the drink across the counter with a napkin. Zach took a sip of his drink before picking the napkin and lifting up the fold.

The target known formally as y/n, is dressed in ivy green. Her connections know her as Cobra. Distract the target and we will steal the hard drive.

Just as Zach finished reading, the bartender swiped the table with a cloth, cleaning the counter and taking back the napkin. Zach turned around in the stool, observing the guests, searching for a splash of green.

“Whiskey, I’ll have it straight.”

Zach cast a side glance to his right, matching the voice to the other person at the bar. A woman dressed in a suit. Green.

He took a sip of his drink, holding back the grimace as the liquid burned down his throat.

“You don’t look like you’re from around here,” Zach glanced to the woman who spoke. She stirred her drink, the spoon clinking against the glass.

Zach turned to her, “I came for the show,” he said casually. He waited a few moments before talking again, “Dean, Michael Dean.” He held out his hand.

His new acquaintance reached out hers, “Y/l/n, Y/full/n.” She turned to shake his hand and Zach noticed the curve of a snake tattoo on the side of her neck. A cobra.

“Pleasure to meet you,” he smirked.

She lifted up her glass, “Pleasure’s all mine. Cheers.” They clinked their glasses before drinking the liquid inside.

“So Michael, tell me about yourself,” y/n finished the drink in her glass, seemingly unphased by the alcohol, “Entertain me.”

Zach grinned, “There’s nothing much to entertain.”

Y/n smirked, “I highly doubt that.”

Zach smiled, “Well, I was born in Texas, and studied business. I started my own company, which turned out to be a success, earned a lot of money and, here I am.” He twisted the ring on his finger, “What about you?”

Y/n chuckled, leaning back in her stool, revealing the cropped top she wore inside her suit and another tattoo which danced along her ribs. “What do you think, Michael?”

Y/n looked at Zach in the eyes, “Who am I?”

Zach smirked, leaning towards y/n, “I think you’re a gorgeous woman,” he began.

Y/n mirrored Zach’s expression, “Is that all I am?”

Zach shook his head, shifting slightly closer to her, “No, there’s more, so much more to you.” His eyes traced the curves of her face, “Your eyes remind me of the stars at night when they spark.”

Y/n hummed, “And?”

“You have this sense of power and confidence, it’s attractive,” Zach gently brushed his hand against her arm.

Y/n smiled teasingly, welcoming his touch, “Go on.”

“You have such a powerful aura yet reveal so little, it’s mysterious,” Zach continued, his voice getting lower..

Y/n looked up, intrigued.

Zach looked her in the eye, “It’s like you’re hiding something and I love it. I want to figure it all out. Get to know you, every part of you.”

A small tap on y/n’s shoulder pulled her away from Zach, almost reluctantly as she excused herself. Zach watched as she talked to the man who pulled her away, a tall brunette with soft curls on his head. The man wore a black suit, adorning silver chains. The glimmer of the word angel on one of the chains caught Zach’s eye before the man pulled y/n away to the side to talk to her.

Zach brushed his hair behind his ear, pressing the button of a small hidden device attached to the back, making y/n’s conversation clearer.

“What is it Jonah?”, Y/n spoke lowly

“Harold hasn’t stuck to his end of the deal, boss.”

Zach looked away as y/n continued to talk to Jonah. He spotted one of his co-workers on the other side of the bar, a glass of wine in hand, Corbyn. Corbyn nodded at him knowingly, before taking a sip of his wine. Zach took a sip of his own drink, looking around the gala, discreetly listening to the conversation.

“What did he do, now?”

“As negotiated, we sent three of ours to the checkpoint with the cash. I just received note that they were ambushed.”

“How many injured?”

“Two injured and one killed.”

Y/n sighed, “And the cash?”

“All gone. I came here to inform you and receive orders on how to move forward.”

There was a moment of silence before y/n spoke, “Send the best of our team, terminate him and get the cash.”

“But m-”

“It’s non-negotiable. That’s an order.”

“Yes, boss.”

“And one more thing,” y/n said, whispering now.

“Find out everything you can about him, his family, background, business, where he keeps the stash. Is that clear?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good, thank you for informing me Jonah. It’s time we teach him a lesson.”

Zach switched off the device with a click and focused on his drink as y/n walked back with a smile on her face. Jonah walked off, disappearing into the crowd.

“Sorry about that,” she sat on the stool next to Zach, “Had to handle some business.”

Zach grinned, “No worries, is everything alright?”

Y/n leaned towards him, brushing her hands over his shoulder, “Just perfect.”

The two continued their conversation, occasionally throwing a flirt, gentle brushes of their hands against each other. Zach pushed a strand of y/n’s hair behind her ear, listening to her as she talked. He felt a small push against his shoulder as he felt Corbyn brush past him, accidentally stumbling into y/n and spilling his wine over her.

Corbyn cursed, copying a drunk tone in his words,  “I am so sorry, did not see where I was going.” He backed away, pretending to wobble in his steps.

Y/n scowled, picking up a few napkins, “I-It’s fine, just watch it next time.”

Zach asked the bartender for more napkins, helping y/n clear the spill. He glanced over to Corbyn who was headed for the exit. Corbyn discretely flashed his hand out, giving Zach a glimpse of a hard drive before he walked out, putting it into his pocket.

Y/n cursed under her breath, “That is some really cold wine.”

Zach laughed, passing her another tissue as she tried to clear up the wet drops, leaving behind a stain on her suit.

Y/n checked her watch, before looking at Zach, “It’s getting late”

She sighed, “I should head out before someone spills wine on me again.”

Zach chuckled, “Would you like me to walk you out?”

Y/n shook her head, “I can walk myself out, it’s been a pleasure, Michael Dean.” She kissed Zach on the cheek, just a few centimetres away from his lips and turned away.

“Will I ever get to see you again, Ms. Y/l/n?”

Y/n looked back with a smirk on her face, “Time will only tell, Mr. Dean. Goodnight.”

Zach waited a few moments for her to leave before exiting through the back door behind the bar, leading him down a hallway at the back of the building and to the parking in the basement. He fiddled with the ring on his finger, as he approached the van at the end of the parking.

He knocked on the back door and it opened, Corbyn standing on the other side, “Did she suspect anything?”

Zach shook his head and entered the van, “No, not a thing.”

“Good.”

He took off his suit jacket, placing it to the side and unbuttoned his collar. “How are we with the drive, Jack?” he turned to his partner in crime who sat at a laptop, hard drive plugged in.

“Give me another minute or two.”

Zach nodded, rolling up his sleeves. A sudden buzz from his suit jacket alerted him and the boys as they stared at each other.

“I thought we were told to go without phones, so we don’t get tracked?”, Jack looked up at Zach.

Zach frowned at his suit jacket where the device buzzed, “That’s not mine.” Corbyn and Jack waited in a tense silence as Zach pulled out the device from the jacket, an old flip phone.

He flipped it open, the screen lighting up with the caller, Anonymous.

“Who is it?” Corbyn asked.

“It’s anonymous.“”

They looked at each other with a knowing look, “You think it’s her?”, Jack asked.

“I guess we’ll have to find out,” Zach answered the call, putting in on speaker.

“Michael Dean, or should I say Zachary Dean Herron? Age, 21. Member of the secret agency.” Zach recognized the voice immediately.

“Y/n,” he spoke.

Y/n chuckled on the other side of the phone, “I must say, I was correct in saying there is no doubt that you would entertain me tonight. Mr. Dean was quite a charmer.”

Zach clenched his jaw as she continued.

“I expected you would want to get tangled up in my business. You have already eliminated 2 leaders from the dark side. I’ll admit, that’s quite impressive for an agent of your age.”

Zach snarked, “And, you? An international underground business worth millions. Quite impressive for someone of the same age.”

Zach could hear the smirk on y/n’s face as she responded, “It seems you’ve already figured me out Mr. Herron, but the game is yet to begin.”

“It’s over for you,” Zach gritted his teeth.

On the other side of the line, y/n grinned, pulling out a replica of the drive Corbyn stole from her pocket, “It’s only just started. Have you decoded the drive yet?”

Zach looked up at Jack who returned the glance with an anxious expression. He turned his laptop around, displaying the contents of the drive to Corbyn and Zach.

All that was there, was a message.

Let the games begin. - Cobra

[one-shot-plus-size]

True Love - Chapter 3

Something I published on my Wattpad account a few years ago, and now I've reworked and am publishing here.

Imagine :

She - a 23 year old girl who loves freedom and a man who will never be hers.

He - a 47 year old actor with a life that is not quite in order.

What happens when he realizes he has the diamond under his nose that he's been looking for all his life.

Pov Olivia

- Why did you take such a strange leave of absence? - Magda leaned out from behind the monitor.

- What do you mean? - I furrowed my eyebrows.

- Thursday is your last day at work, why not from Monday? - She was tapping her pen on the desk.

- Because on Friday I have a flight from Cracow to Chicago at 12:05, where I have to wait until 19:35 to fly to San Diego. There I am at 9:47 p.m., then back to my hotel and in the morning at Comic-Con.

- Well, that's logical - she smiled and returned to her seat.

- Yup - I nodded my head.

Friday 11:00 am

I sat quietly in the waiting room, pulled out my phone and turned on Whatsapp and a new message to Jeffrey. ( Jeffrey Dean Morgan).

💬 To Jeff : I am at the airport flying out in an hour, around 10:30 in the evening I should be at the hotel.

I scraped out a message to him and before I could put my phone in my pocket a reply came.

📲 From Jeff : Bubba is not expecting anything, he walks like a nailed dog even I feel a little sorry for him.

💬To Jeff : Just not a word, he wants him to have a surprise, calm him down a bit. I know you can!

📲 From Jeff : As always! I love you horrible woman ! 💙

💬To Jeff : I love you too old man

📲 From Jeff : Pff🤬

I laughed under my breath, put my phone in my pocket and headed to check-in after just a few minutes. Just to sit on the plane at 12. I had some time to sleep, put my headphones in my ears and drifted off. Nice lady stewardess woke me up before landing in Chicago. There I bought American phone card and went for a decent meal.

Pov Jeffrey

I looked over at Norman who was standing on the terrace smoking a cigarette. His thoughts kept running to Olivia, I could see it in his eyes. He was sad or maybe angry that she didn't want to see him. Sometimes it was hard to judge him, he rarely showed his true emotions. But his eyes betrayed him, and very often. I walked out to him and leaned my back against the railing.

- Dude don't worry so much - I looked at him.

- I'm not worried - he muttered under his breath and shrugged his shoulders.

- I can just see how you are not worried - I smiled widely.

- I don't understand why he doesn't want to come. We meet every year, every year we spend three weeks together, and this year she is somehow different.

- Maybe she fell in love and her partner doesn't approve - I lit a cigarette.

- I want her to fall in love, I want her to be happy, but I don't want a partner who forbids us to see each other. Who is this guy?

- Norman - I groaned - maybe he is jealous of you, look at yourself.

- I'm nothing special - he put out his cigarette - I'm going to bed.

I wanted to tell him that she would soon be in the same hotel as us but I promised to keep it to myself. At 10:30 I got a message.

📲Of Oli: I'm at the hotel, room 313.

💬 To Ola : I'm in 5 minutes.

He put the phone in his pocket and I put on my leather jacket.

- Bubba I'm leaving, I'll be back in a while - I shouted towards Norman's bedroom.

But no one answered me, Norman was probably either taking a shower or already asleep. I sighed and went to room 313. I knocked twice on the door and heard muffled footsteps and after a few seconds the door opened. Standing in it was Olivia, her blue hair flowing loosely over her shoulders. She was wearing a loose hoodie and tight jeans.

- Hey - she smiled tiredly.

- Hey baby - I took a step and hugged her tightly.

She cuddled into my body and a tired sigh came out of her mouth. I kissed her head and rubbed her back with my hands.

- Tired ? - I moved away slightly.

- A little - she breathed - Would you like something to drink?

- Maybe a quick drink? - I smiled widely.

- Fine - she nodded and moved towards the bar.

- Honey, you look good - I took off my jacket and threw it on the back of the sofa.

- What do you mean? - She opened the bottle of whisky.

- You just look good even though you still wear those baggy sweatshirts - I watched her movements.

- They're just comfortable and I don't have to bother choosing accessories. And I really don't feel like it lately - she sat down next to me with two glasses.

- Did something happen? - I took the glass from her and furrowed my eyebrows.

- Well, my ex turned out to be a dick and that's all - she shrugged her shoulders.

She leaned her elbows on her knees and drank the liquid from the glass in one gulp. I looked at the profile of her face, she didn't even wrinkle her eyebrows.

- Are you back to drinking? - I leaned towards her.

- Can we not talk about this now? I'm here for the first day and you're already doing my fucking interrogation - she looked at me.

- But promise me we'll come back to this conversation?

- I promise if you don't say anything to Norman - she stared into my eyes.

- I won't say a fucking word to him - I smiled slightly.

- Then we'll go back to this conversation - she nodded - how is he?

- He sulks like a teenager - I laughed.

- He hasn't replied to any of my messages, he's probably angry with me.

- I bet that when he sees you tomorrow all his anger will be gone - I kissed her on the temple - you know how he is when something doesn't go his way. And he really missed you and he's sorry.

Olivia took a breath and sank deeper into the couch.

- Hey - I poked her - don't pout yet you know that if you make puppy dog eyes he is able to forgive everything.

- I hope so - she smiled uncertainly.

- You know that if you make puppy dog eyes, he will be able to forgive everything - she smiled uncertainly - After all, he loves you - I poked her - and he can't stay mad at you for too long.

Olivia looked at me and I saw a blush on her cheeks. She set her glass down on the coffee table and snuggled into my side.

- I missed you, old man -  she whispered.

- I missed you too girl - I put my arm around her.

Her head was resting under my chin, Olivia may not look like a woman we were used to. She wasn't skinny, she wasn't tall but her character made up for all her flaws. A person stops noticing her larger body stature after getting to know her. But she had one flaw, she was morbidly shy and that is why many people abandoned her. I got close to her only last year and only then I realized how big heart she has. And I want to keep her close because it's really worth it. I glanced at her, her eyes were closed and her breathing was steady. As she fell asleep, I gently pushed her away from me. I set the glass down and took her hands in mine wedding style. I headed to the bedroom, planted her on the bed holding her with my hands. I took off her sweatshirt, socks and pants, laid her on the bed and covered her with blankets.

- Sleep dear - I kissed her forehead and left her room.

I closed the door behind me and went to my room.

Pov Olivia

When I awoke to the sound of the alarm clock. I wiped my face with my hands and looked around the room. I was lying in bed in the bedroom of my rented apartment. I hit the phone and the alarm finally went off. I groaned wiping my face with my palms, I must have been drowsy last night. I threw my legs off the bed and pulled hard. I picked my phone up off the ground and opened a new message from Jeff.

📲 From Jeff : Remember that at 3 in the afternoon is our show, remember not to be late lazy !

I locked my device and shook my head. This man was impossible but that's what I loved him for. For the fact that he could listen, that he had more experience in life and could share it. He was different than Norman but after all, no two people are alike. Grabbed my phone and opened a new message to Jeff.

💬To Jeff : I hope your old bones didn't suffer when you carried me to bed.💙 Thank you, I'm not late, I'm never late.

I put my phone down on the bedside table, grabbed my clothes and headed to the shower. I had to prepare myself properly to greet my long lost friend.

I looked at myself in the mirror. I was always careful about what I wore, I had to mask my excess weight somehow. I combed my hair and dried it into a bun.

Just a quick breakfast and I was ready to go. I took an Uber and after just a few minutes I found myself in front of the San Diego Convention Center. Thanks to Jeffrey's kindness I had VIP ticket so I could enter everywhere. Therefore, I went to the hall out of turn, hung around my neck badge with name and level of availability. The first thing that caught my eye was the amount of people dressed up. Cosplay was ubiquitous here, I slipped my glasses over my hair and admired their creators. People were really imaginative and I stopped at one or three stalls to buy some interesting things. Eventually I got to the place where The Walking Dead actors were, I kept my distance so none of them would recognize me. No one knew I was here, except Jeffrey of course. I watched Norman interact with the fans, his face lit up with a smile from ear to ear. He was snapping pictures with them, signing T-shirts and many other things. I smiled to myself, I loved how open he was with his fans. I took a breather and wandered around the neighborhood and at 2:30 I was already sitting in my seat in the hall where the conference was to be held.

📲Of Jeff : are you ?

💬Do Jeff : Third row, fourth seat from the left. From the middle aisle.

📲From Jeff : Divine, he wants to see Bubba's face.

I smiled under my breath, at exactly three o'clock the host started her show. She was smiling all the time under her breath, my hands started sweating strangely, I rubbed them on my pants. The first to enter was the director, then Andrew Lincoln, Jeffrey Dean Morgan and finally Norman Reedus, followed of course by the rest of the crew. I had the impression that Jeffrey immediately sought me out with his eyes. He smiled broadly and nodded slightly. I smiled back and also nodded slightly. Jeffrey looked up at me every now and then smiling. Halfway through the performance Jeffrey poked Lincoln and whispered something in his ear. Andrew lifted his head and looked around the front rows and a wide grin appeared on his lips from ear to ear. Lincoln slaps Norman hard on the shoulder, the man crouches down and mutters something under his breath. Andrew leans into his ear and whispers something. And his body tense up, he slides his hat down over his face and shifts his gaze around the audience. His eyes stopped on me, smiling broadly. Eventually, he smiled too.

Andrew watched his friend's reaction, smiling slightly. Norman pulled out his phone, and moments later mine vibrated in his pocket.

📲Of Norm : I'm gonna strangle you 🎈

[cherry3point14]

What Does The Fox Say?

Pairing: Dean x Reader Warnings: Crack. Orgy. Sex Party. Don’t let your nethers tingle, it’s barely flirting. SYNONYMS. Word Count: 2,300ish.   Summary/Prompt: There’s a case. Witches or something, and they’re killing people, specifically furries, maybe. As such one Dean Winchester goes to a furry sex party to look for clues... A/N: Written for @kalesrebellion​ “Bring On the Giggles” challenge. I think hope my synonyms for this challenge will be fairly obvious. Also, shoutout to @winchesters-meaty-feast​ who entertained my panic as this deadline loomed and pretty much talked me into birthing this ~thing. Sidenote - no disrespect to the furries who walk among us. It’s all exaggerated crack!fic. Peace and love. Yiffy on friends.

From the outside, it looks like any other two-story townhouse. There’s a car parked out front, normal mailbox, the works. Regular suburban home. The first clue that something out of the ordinary is happening inside—where the ordinary is mom, dad, and two-point four ankle-biters having dinner—is the windows. They’re all covered, curtains or blinds, it doesn’t matter. This is what it looks like when humans try to cover their tracks. Monsters choose places that are already deserted and forgotten. Humans hide in plain sight and end up sticking out like a sore thumb. Plus Dean has spent all day talking to furries about this house. Yeah, that’s the biggest clue, not the damn curtains. He’s had multiple lectures, not only from Sam but the furries, people, themselves. It’s not all about porn. They’d told him adamantly. Showed him drawings and all these things they’d made each other, and pictures from their conventions. We’re not all perverts! They could say it until they were blue in the face (they had), but Dean’s standing here looking at this house, knowing what’s inside, and it’s hard to believe the furries-are-innocent propaganda. It’s even harder to believe he’s walking in there of his own free will. The things he’ll do to save lives. Sam told him to change because “Freeze, FBI” might not go down well at this particular house party. What’s he supposed to change into? A Halloween costume? That suggestion earned him yet another talk about respecting people’s interests. Whatever. He gets it, they don’t all have full fursuit things and even the ones that do, don’t generally fuck in them, and really? Is it really fucking necessary that he knows this much about furries? At least he can put on a plain black tee and some jeans and Sam only half presses his lips together in disapproval. What is his brother expecting him to wear to a furry sex party? Cat ears? (Dean is offended by the implication even if Sam didn't say it out loud). Eventually, shuffling his feet, he makes it to the door and knocks. He doesn’t want to be here but Sam’s working another lead on the other side of town at a D&D meet up. All jokes about dungeons aside, Dean would have given up his music privileges all the way back to Kansas to switch places. Once again, scissors bit him in the ass. The door opens a few inches, enough to see, hand to god, a guy in white rabbit-ish body paint. He raises his eyebrows in Dean’s direction like he’s asking for something without saying the words. The guy definitely doesn’t twitch his nose and it definitely doesn’t remind Dean of that bunny from Bambi. Oh shit. The password. Right, because that was how you made a gathering like this more legit and less embarrassing. Dean’s throat tightens like the words don’t want to come out, or like he doesn’t want them to exist, “Yiffy Ki Yay.” Furry sons of bitches have even ruined Die Hard. The guy nods and pulls the door open enough to let Dean slide in, but not reveal too much of the clandestine activities to the outside world. Not that anyone on Maple Avenue is looking into this particular door. Either the neighbors know better or they don’t care. Although now that he’s inside Dean can see his nameless host is also wearing tall, white ears and furry cuffs on his ankles and wrists. The first of what, Dean assumes, will be many red flags that he should leave. Not that he heeds the warning. “First time?” The rabbit asks while Dean attempts to scan as much as he can see without a slack jaw. “Yeah,” he breathes out. Dean has been around the block. He’s seen the inside of more than just strip clubs. His number one use of the Internet is porn, his second? More porn. This is something else. He’s not judging, well, he's trying not to judge and failing miserably. These people aren’t hurting anyone though. In fact, someone might be trying to hurt them. Or the D&D players. They were still on the fence about how the groups were linked beside the weird deaths. Granted some of this party seems very vanilla from what he can see. He catches a glimpse of the dining room, which has been cleared of most of its furniture, and there’s your everyday orgy of mangled limbs. Those limbs happen to be a little furrier than normal is all. Thankfully not everyone is dressed as an animal. Not that anybody will be telling Sam that he was right. Some people are dotted around watching, or drinking like the sex isn’t happening, and some of the people getting involved are in plain clothes. Or, naked but not wearing any sort of animal accessory. At first glance, there’s a part of Dean that thinks he can appreciate the hedonism of it, without being bogged down by the fact that they're all cosplaying as goddamn animals. Animal enthusiasts, he corrects in his head before Sam telepathically delivers a bitch face from across town. And then he’s walking through the kitchen and there are two people nuzzling each other. People might not be the right word because they’re dressed as cats. Holding each other and stretching and bending their limbs. All feline movements and what he thinks is a purring noise, but he can’t confirm or deny because of the music coming from the cheap speakers on the counter. It might be sweet if it wasn’t in the middle of a sex party. Yeah, this is still going to take some getting used to. The rabbit is yammering, mentioning ground rules that Dean is only half listening to while he tries not to stare at the cats. He’s listening enough to follow the rules but actually, he can’t bring himself to look away from the most PC thing happening in the joint. “Did you get that because I heard the door…?” This time Floppy speaks with enough urgency that Dean snaps his focus back to the white rabbit. “Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll-” he wants to say ‘mingle’ like it’s a seventies swingers party and his biggest concern is where his car keys are. He licks his dry lips and they still feel like sandpaper, “-look around.” He does need to look around, talk to people, do his job. That’s why he’s here feeling like the spare dick at a fucking contest. Dean knows his limits though and before he investigates he's gonna need a beer.  Once he’s got a bottle in his hand, which he got from the fridge because he doesn’t trust anything that was sitting on any surface, even unopened, he starts climbing the stairs. The tinny music, the sound of bodies slapping against each other, and the low din of people talking like normal adults all fade with each step until he’s at the top. Practically not at a furry orgy anymore. Except it’s a new horrific game now. What’s behind door number one? Somewhere in the back of his mind, he remembers Whiskers going on about the rules of the rooms. Lock up if you want privacy. Unlocked and shut means viewers welcome. Open doors are an invitation to play. That’s the word Thumper had used, play. The first door is locked. He skips the second because he can hear what's going on inside and even if he was in the mood to creep (he’s not), you don't walk in on the money shot. The third room is a bathroom, a stark reminder he's in a house that people live in. The fourth door he tries is blissfully empty. It looks like a guest room. Walls that are basic beige and nothing identifying. Then he sits on the bed and presses his back into the wall. He realizes this bed has probably been used for the activities he’s already seen tonight. Out of sight, out of mind. Dean takes out his phone and stares, annoyed, at the screen. Sam hasn’t messaged him, so the case isn’t solved and he doesn’t have an excuse to leave. He takes a swig of his beer and types with his free hand, trying to make an excuse. Find anything yet? Another long drag while he waits, forcing the drink down his throat in the hopes of some small semblance of dutch courage. Or in the hopes that everything is solved, so he can go back to the motel and beat his meat to hentai like a normal person. No, but this is actually really interesting. You? Dean’s fingers twitch wanting nothing more than to throw the phone against a wall. If he wasn’t obligated to text back to illustrate that he’s still alive then he might leave Sam high and dry. As it is his reply is short and simple. Nothing. He feels no need to mention that he hasn’t actually looked yet. Dean puts his phone away and throws his head back against the wall at the exact moment the door opens. She stumbles in with the ghost of a giggle on her lips. He’s expecting there to be someone following her considering the party he’s attending. Two people blundering into a room looking for a place to get some privacy. Except she’s alone and she’s not concerned to find him alone either. Her eyes widen a little but her smile is soft, “sorry, you’re not waiting on someone are you?” “Me?” He asks, concerned that he has picked up some paraphernalia along the way. Anything that might suggest he’s a part of this. She continues to wait for an answer to her question instead of answering his. “No, Nah. Just taking a breather.” “Thank god, me too.” She blows out a relieved puff of air before shutting the door behind her. In doing so she flashes him her tail. She’s a fox. Or some version of a fox. She hasn’t gone as far as body paint. Her outfit almost seems costumey rather than serious. It’s this orange mini dress—if it could be called a dress for how little it leaves to his imagination—with a bushy, foxtail attached. He hadn’t noticed her ears immediately, but now he’s seen them, there they are. Ginger and pointed on top of her head, and when she turns back to him he finally notices the little, black nose she has painted on. She sits down next to him, scoots herself on top of the sheets making them bunch under her. She doesn’t seem to care about him having dibs over the bed or room and it only takes a few seconds for him to not care either. In this close proximity, inches apart, he doesn’t see a fox, even if she is definitely dressed up as a fox. He sees bare legs crossed at the ankle, her dress fighting to contain her cleavage and the sheen of her skin from dancing. She’s holding a red solo cup, he assumes half full of alcohol considering the pink flushing her cheeks. “I’m going to take a guess,” she leans until her shoulder is pressed against his arm, “you’re either a first-timer or you’re lost.” Dean laughs because he feels lost even if his cover is supposed to be the former. “First time, that obvious, huh? Thanks for pointing it out. Real considerate of you.” She bites her lip enough to get him looking at her mouth. Thinking about her mouth. “Wolf?” “What?” “I get it, first-timers are still trying to be normal, but the dark colors and the brooding loner thing you have going on in here. A wolf missing his pack?” She brings her knees up and bends her legs under herself while she guesses. Twists her body in his direction. He can’t tell if she’s joking. It sounds half ridiculous and makes him think of the kind of wolves he hunts. Dean lies anyway, “ding ding. Tell the woman what she’s won. Or do you prefer..?” Dean waves a hand to her everything fox related as if he might seriously start using ‘fox’ instead of ‘woman’. His gesturing hand lands on her waist while the other takes another swig from his brown bottle. “‘S fine. We’re all still people underneath. I’ve got a job and everything.” She rolls her shoulders like she’s showing off for being employed, which shuffles her whole body half an inch closer to his until her knees are touching his thigh. She’s facing him, his arm still lazily, half wrapped around her as she raises her cup to her lips. “Oh yeah, what do you do, sweetheart?” He lets the syrup fall from his mouth because foxes like honey.

She laughs, the sound tinkles in the space between them. “I’m a diner chef. Nothing exciting unless you like to eat?” His tongue peeks out between his teeth, his lips smirking suggestively. “I’ve been known to enjoy a-,” Dean's eyes flick down her body to where her dress is stretching over her thighs, and then back to her face, “fur burger.” Nowhere else on the fucking planet would he get away with saying that. Only at a furry sex party. She doesn’t just smile at his line though, she hums, pleased he’s playing along, and slides a hand along the outer hem of his jeans. Fingers slowly crawling up his leg and tracing the denim.

One blink and the air is thicker, heavier, and Dean doesn’t give a shit when it happened.

Her eyes flash playfully as she finishes her drink. “Mmm, the only way to make sure a burger is done is a good thrust of a meat thermometer.” 

5eva tags: @divadinag​ @darthdeziewok​ @fluentinfiction​ @witch-of-letters​ @supernatural-teamfreewill-blog​​ @magnitude101999​ @alexwinchester23​ @jesseswartzwelder​ Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles​ @akshi8278​ @erins-culinary-service​ @bloodydaydreamer​ @iamabeautifulperson18​ @ellewritesfix05​

[wendibird]

SPN 15X18 Observations

Let me preface this by saying, I apologize ahead of time if I and/or my notes seem a bit cynical. I’ve had a rough week. (I think everyone has.) But for whatever it’s worth, here are my notes, observations and meandering thoughts on tonight’s episode.

Oh, one more thing though. For episodes 19 and 20 (and anything really to do with them) in addition to my usual tags for the episodes and season, I’ll be tagging them with #dontspoilthefinalhunt for any who wish to avoid spoilers for them.

Pre-Episode thoughts:

So, I’ve heard enough rumors already to know that mooooost likely Cas is going to die this episode. And let me be clear, he’s my second favorite character in this show after Sam. But I have trouble feeling strong emotions for something when I go in knowing that I should. But I’m going to try to go into this one with an open mind. 

Also, in the past I liked Billy as a character because though she still had some biases, she still seemed mostly neutral, like OG Death had been. And from previews it looks like maybe they’re turning her into an outright villain like they’ve done with God? Yey. 

- Where’s Chuck? Did he just bampf off?

- So he’s gonna blow up in the Empty?

- Yep.

- So now Dean cares about him? (Jack)

- Poor Jack. He doesn’t get what’s going on. 

- Yey! Jack is back! 

- “You’ve snapped me out of worse.” When?

- They’ve prayed to Michael? Yey for not overlooking options! (Not being sarcastic.)

- Charlie!!!! And yey she has a girlfriend! (Are they gonna kill her?) 

- Aaaaaaand there she goes.

Commercial thoughts:

So, I get the whole narrative idea of taking a character that everyone assumed was kinda on your side and revealing that they were always working towards their own interests. I get it. And it can be effective. I still don’t like it with Billy. 

I’m glad Dean said what he did to Sam. Even if Sam says (and probably thinks) that he doesn’t need to hear the apology, sometimes it needs to be said anyway. And I think saying it all helped Dean a bit too. He needed to know that Sam understood. 

I’m glad Jack’s back though!

- Oh Jack. You’re worth more than your death. 

- I’m glad Cas is saying this, but sadly, I think the “we” only applies to him and Sam. 

- So Jack is powerless when he came back? Did the bomb thing burn out it all out?

*is confused*

- Yey! Eileen! (Please don’t have her just vanish….)

- I’ma cry….

- Oh no……

- “If I let myself go there I’ll lose my mind. I can’t go there right now.”  

- Oh Sam. Always trying to push down his feelings because there’s other shit going on. 

- Hug!!!!!!!

- Sam’s gonna drive Eileen’s car. Just shoot me now….

Commercial thoughts:

So yeah… Wonder what Billy’s plan is here with this random picking-off of people but not like, all at once. She COULD do it all at once, she has the personel. (The Empty didn’t kill all her reapers.) 

I think she’s setting her own kind of trap or something. 

Also, I take it Chuck just vanished? They didn’t say anything about it but that seems to be the impression given.

Still pisses me off though that after bringing Eileen back and only half-assing her role they just had her vanish. (At least Rowena’s in charge of hell, so if she wound up down there again, she SHOULD get a better shake than she did the first time.) 

- Donna!!!!

- Eileen’s Car…… *cries* 

- Sam’s got so much emotional stuff going on this episode. He’s got this grief for Eileen in the background and he’s worried about Jack and trying to help him, and trying to save all these people.

- OUch……. Double ouch. (Were in references to the expressions on Sam’s face when Donna first comforted him about Eileen and then Charlie made her comment about not wanting anyone else to go through what she did.) 

- (Yes, I’m worried about Dean and Cas too.) 

- Sam’s still their “Chief”.

- That's weird….. Why does his touch kill plants? (Not people at least.)

- Yeah, she (Billy) was waiting.

- Oh dear…..

- So what IS causing this?

- NO! NOT DONNA!

- WTF?!

Commercial thoughts:

So Chuck is doing this? I mean, it makes sense. He’s gotten petty enough. But now what? 

Also poor Sam. I mean, he tries so hard to save people. And time after time it just doesn’t work out. It could be seen as part of “Chuck’s Plan” because of how he wants his big story to go. So now I guess he’s just being more direct about it. Sam isn’t allowed to do well unless it’s been authorized by the Narrative. (AKA, him.) When he tries, he just gets shown the error of trying. (But he’s beaten down if he doesn’t try too. Like S8.) 

Also still don’t like how Billy’s character has changed.

- She thinks she’s Freddy Kruger?

- Heart attack? His first “death” was supposed to be his heart. (In “Faith”) Wonder if that’s intentional here?

- Oh god… please don’t tell me they’re going to…. 

Commercial thoughts:

Okay. I don’t ship Destiel. At all. I’m not an anti though, cause I’m firmly a ship-and-let-ship kind of person. 

But that scene while very heartfelt just didn’t do anything for me because it felt more than a bit like revisionistic history. However, I will say, congrats to the Destiel fandom. They killed Cas, but that scene was definitely for you all. 

They’re killing off so many people though it’s like… this is one of my problems when I’m going into a situation where I’m “supposed” to feel a certain way. It makes me awkward. (Like the Episode “Lebanon”.) 

- Gah, poor Sam. 

- WTF?! Is Chuck taking everyone in the world? 

- FUCK?! THAT’S WHERE THEY’RE LEAVING IT OFF?!?!?!?

Okay, so my hope is now, since they’ve gone THIS far with what Chuck is doing, that unless the ultimate resolution of the story is going to be “everything goes away forever” they’re going to have to leave some way to bring people back. 

I’ll be honest, I had trouble connecting emotionally with this episode. But that may not be the episode’s fault. I’ve been working some long hours lately and I just today found out that someone I work with has tested positive for Covid. (I just got tested today.) Plus with all the election stuff still going on, there’s a lot of real-world things on my mind. 

Also, as I said, knowing that these are the final episodes, it’s pretty much a given that things are going to ramp up. (And the people involved with the show have been telegraphing the hell out of Cas’ death, so it wasn’t unexpected. And I get it. Some people really do need that time to prepare emotionally and adjust their expectations.) But I still feel like a lot of the things they’re asking/expecting us to care about, they haven’t put the actual effort into the storytelling to make that happen. I love the absolute shit out of Eileen, but for most of this season she’s been written as little more than an accessory to Sam. And just so he can have some “feels” about someone. And then she gets vanished without so much as a last glimpse of her? (And this episode was filmed before everything closed down due to Covid.) 

I mean, his reaction STILL tore me up, because Jared is that damn good at conveying those emotions. But once again, like LAST time they killed her off, it was amongst so much other shit that there’s barely time for him to even feel it. In fact, he even said that he couldn’t because of what else was going on. And by the end of the episode pretty much everyone else in the world is Thanos-snapped too? 

And I get it, this episode is clearly not about her. It’s about the whole situation. It just still feels like a disservice to the character.

And speaking of disservices to characters…

So, about what Cas said in his speech/confession to Dean. The revisionistic retelling of history has been strong this season, but that was especially bad. We know from past episodes that Cas has ALWAYS had “a crack in his chassis” and always had sympathy and love for humanity. We know that he cares about a lot of people, and has put a lot of effort into becoming a better being. (Just a few episodes ago he talked about how he truly found his purpose when he became a father. And he also had talked about finding his true family.) But no. Apparently all of that character development was just because of Dean. What bothers me isn’t that he told Dean “I love you.” What bothers me is that it truly feels like Cas’ entire character was reduced to one half of a ship. 

Okay, and what also bothers me is that Sam was literally an afterthought in all of that. When for most of these years, Sam has been the one who’s been the most supportive and understanding of Cas. Sam is the one who lately has had the closer connection with him. But naw. He ain’t important, except as an extension of Dean. 

And I get they were trying to throw some fanservice to that corner of the fandom, especially since Cas was slated to die 3 episodes before the end. But they could have done it better. I’ve read fanfic that handled Destiel in a more believable way. (I was reading for the Saileen content as they’re often put in as a sister-ship and it can be hard to find fic of them without it.) And technically this wasn’t even requited. Dean looked more shocked than anything, though I admit that's up to interpretation. But someone in one of the discord servers I'm in posted a picture of that part of the script for this episode and it outright said in the directorial notes that Cas said what he did knowing that Dean didn't/couldn't return his affection the same way. So, there is that.

There were other aspects of the episode I also had thoughts on, like, wtf is up with Jack not having his usual powers but wilting plantlife? Some extension of the bomb-thing? Is he radioactive now to anything with “Celestial energy”? But wouldn’t that have made him give Cas problems too? Or is this supposed to be indicating something else? Amara did that too before she started turning lighter, back in Season 11. Is he somehow turning into the Darkness? Or did he come back from the Empty partially possessed by Lucifer? Gah. I don’t even know. I’m just throwing ideas at a dart board now. *LOL* 

And at this point, wtf CAN they even do against Chuck? I really don’t know. I’m hoping the next episodes are better, but I know 19 was written by Buckleming and they don’t have the best track record. True, a few of their episodes I’ve actually enjoyed. But sometimes they fall short on writing the Brothers Winchester. 

Anyway, I think I’ve probably rambled enough for now.

[theliberaltony]

via Politics – FiveThirtyEight

Graphics by Anna Wiederkehr

Americans have changed their behavior in ways that would have been unthinkable even a few months ago. Masks are an essential accessory. Social distancing is the norm. And even as states moved to reopen their economies in May and June, many Americans continued to think it was better for people to stay home.

But underneath that apparent consensus is a large — and growing — partisan divide. Even as cases and hospitalizations spike in red states that mostly escaped the early effects of the virus, Republicans and Democrats remain stubbornly split on the threat it poses. For instance, it was only in July that President Trump wore a mask in public for the first time. And perhaps thanks to Trump’s repeated downplaying of the threat that COVID-19 poses, Republicans are much less concerned than Democrats are about the virus.

On the one hand, according to surveys conducted by the Pew Research Center, Republicans have consistently been less likely than Democrats to say that they fear being hospitalized because of COVID-19 or that they might unknowingly spread the virus to others. But on the other hand, that partisan gap has widened significantly between April and June.

It’s hard to find a more extreme test of our tribal political attachments than the current pandemic, where Trump continues to downplay the risks of the virus in the face of near-universal opposition from medical experts. It also raises a thorny issue: In the midst of a pandemic, partisanship appears to be shaping people’s perceptions of their risk and personal behaviors — to the point that our divided politics actually affects our health. For Americans, that might mean that questions of whether to stay home, wear a mask or to see friends and family without social distancing are filtered through a partisan lens.

In other words, do our politics risk making us sick?

It’s pretty clear that at this point, Republicans’ and Democrats’ experiences of the pandemic have been steadily diverging for months. It’s much harder to say, though, what that means for transmission of the virus. Some surveys offer a glimmer of hope, suggesting that the partisan gaps in how people are actually behaving — whether they wear a mask, for example — are much narrower than the divides on questions about what they think the government should do in response to the virus or whether the worst is behind us. It’s possible, too, that some of the partisan divides we’re seeing now could start to narrow as outbreaks spiral out of control in states like Arizona, Florida and Texas.

These trends are cause for alarm among the small army of social scientists who have tried to figure out how Americans are responding to the virus since the beginning of the pandemic — from the conflicting signals they’ve received from Trump and other political leaders, to changing guidelines from public health experts.

“Some Republicans are much less freaked out by the virus than they were a few months ago,” said Marc Hetherington, a political scientist at the University of North Carolina who is tracking Americans’ perspectives of the coronavirus through a panel survey. “But things are changing so quickly — these new outbreaks could scare them and maybe some of that polarization disappears.”

That doesn’t mean the politicization of the virus isn’t having an impact, though. Take the political fighting around whether people should be required to wear masks or the timeline around when businesses should reopen. The virus is spiking in Georgia, with thousands of new cases each day, but the state’s Republican governor is suing the Democratic mayor of Atlanta over the city’s decision to revert to its most restrictive opening phase and mandate the wearing of masks. “The national conversation about how we behave during this pandemic has been so colored by the partisan divide that it’s becoming impossible to talk rationally about the risks we are and are not willing to tolerate,” said Dr. Sandro Galea, an epidemiologist and the dean of the Boston University School of Public Health who studies the politics of public health. “If both sides were pushed out of their corners, they would both have to concede quite a bit, and we’d frankly all be safer.”

Understanding how Americans are responding to the pandemic isn’t an easy task; there are essentially two methods at researchers’ disposal. The first is to use a survey. The second is to look at mobility trends, such as geolocation or credit card data, to see if people are actually behaving the way they say they are. And over the past few months, political scientists and economists have leaned on both methods to figure out how Americans are thinking about the COVID-19 pandemic and how that relates to their behavior. With the exception of a few studies conducted in late March and early April, when fear of the pandemic ground the economy to a complete halt, all of this research has uncovered an accelerating partisan divide, too.

For example, as early as March, a group of researchers found that Democrats in a large panel survey exhibited more worries than Republicans about the pandemic and were also likelier to embrace health behaviors like more frequent hand-washing or avoiding mass gatherings. The first round of Hetherington’s survey suggests a partisan divide in Americans’ support for some public health interventions, like widespread testing.

The problem with these surveys, of course, is that there’s no way to figure out, for example, whether someone who says they’re quarantining is actually doing so. So a number of other studies have tried to figure out what people were actually doing by using geolocation data to follow people’s movements. This research has found basically the same thing as the surveys: People in Republican-leaning counties, or counties that voted for Trump in 2016, didn’t reduce their activity as much as people in Democratic counties.

Another study that looked at individual-level smartphone data found a similar pattern. And one team of researchers examined both survey data and geolocation data and determined that the trend held up for both — people in more Republican areas were less likely to feel at risk because of COVID-19, and they were also less likely to stay at home.

But this mobility data has its own limitations, according to Rebecca Katz, a professor at Georgetown University Medical Center. It can only tell you whether people are leaving their homes, not where they’re going or whether they’re taking precautions. “We’re all using this data because it’s the data we have, but it’s imperfect,” she said. “Sometimes, I pack my kids in a car and we just drive for a little while so we can get out of the house — by my cell phone, we’re moving. But that doesn’t tell someone looking at that data if we are interacting with other people, or if we’re wearing masks.”

Geography is another confounding factor; people in rural areas are more likely to drive places, even if they’re otherwise following public health guidelines, and less densely populated parts of the country were also less hard hit by the virus in the beginning. The problem is that Republicans are more likely to live in those parts of the country — and the effects of political segregation and the virus’s trajectory are very difficult to untangle, especially for studies that were conducted a month or two into the pandemic.

The partisan split was hard to deny, though, so early on, a couple of research teams tried to figure out why Republicans and Democrats were responding to the pandemic differently. Two usual culprits — politicians and the media — emerged as possible factors in the divide.

One study conducted from late February through the end of March found that the partisan divide on risk perception and health behavior only narrowed after the White House issued federal social distancing guidelines, suggesting that Trump’s role as a national Republican leader could be quite significant. Several other studies dug into the impact of cable TV, with one survey finding that an MSNBC viewer’s response to the pandemic was quite different than that of a Fox News watcher. Another study focused only on the impact of Fox News and concluded that an increase in viewership did appear to result in less social distancing. The evidence for the effects of politicians and differing media sources is less robust because there aren’t as many studies, but it does suggest that even when there are serious health risks at stake, how both talk about the virus and the public health response may affect the way people behave.

Shana Gadarian, a professor of political science at Syracuse University who is helping to conduct one of the panel surveys, said she was surprised to see such enormous divides emerge as the pandemic wore on. According to other research she’s conducted, moments of extreme anxiety and uncertainty can actually make people more open to new sources of information — including public health experts and leaders from the opposing party. So at the beginning of the pandemic, she and her team expected that Americans would coalesce around public health experts’ recommendations, or that other demographic factors — like age — would turn into key dividing lines.

Scientists and doctors do still enjoy a high level of trust from most Americans, as Maggie Koerth wrote for FiveThirtyEight in May. But that doesn’t mean they are entirely immune to the winds of partisanship — for example, Democrats are likelier than Republicans to trust the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention.

Crucially, though, big divides haven’t emerged everywhere. According to the latest wave of the Democracy Fund’s Voter Study Group, conducted between July 2 to 8, the vast majority (88 percent) of Republicans said they wore a mask when going out in public, even though Republicans in greater numbers have said in other surveys that the government shouldn’t require people to wear masks. And according to Robert Griffin, research director of the Voter Study Group, that’s significantly higher than in any wave of the weekly data going back to May 28. There was more of a partisan gap in responses to other questions about coronavirus-related behavior, although it was still fairly modest.

So are these partisan splits actually driving the spread of the virus?

As it turns out, it’s hard to prove that Republicans’ resistance to mask mandates or social distancing is actually worsening the pandemic. One reason is that political scientists and economists don’t feel equipped to take on the epidemiological modeling that would be necessary to measure what, say, a partisan divide on hand-washing actually means for the spread of the disease. Yael Hochberg, an economist at Rice University, said that the lack of uniformity in testing data made her reluctant to wade into the public health data. “There are places where testing still isn’t widely available,” Hochberg said. “And if testing isn’t uniform, it’s hard to compare what you’re seeing in one county versus another.”

One study tried to pin down the effect of differing levels of compliance with social distancing policies among Republicans and Democrats using individual geolocation data. It concluded that a Trump voter who contracts COVID-19 infects 16 percent more people than a comparable Clinton voter. That’s a striking finding — but it’s also only one study, and several infectious disease experts who reviewed the paper at my request were a little skeptical of its conclusions.

Samuel Scarpino, a professor at Northeastern University who studies infectious diseases, said that it can be very difficult, even in a sophisticated model, to separate all of the confounding factors that could be at play, like geography. And Katz said that without information about whether people are wearing masks or engaging in social distancing, it’s hard to draw very solid conclusions about transmission from mobility data.

Scarpino was quick to add, though, that polarization can still be a serious problem, even if it’s hard to quantify its precise impact. “If politicians’ messaging is making people feel like they’re safe from COVID, those are people who are unnecessarily being put at risk,” he said. He’s also concerned that public health experts’ credibility will erode as certain health behaviors, like mask-wearing or social distancing, become associated with one party or another. “We’re kind of building the airplane as we fly it and we need to be able to change course when we get new evidence,” he said. “But it becomes harder to have those conversations and get buy-in from the public as the whole process becomes more politicized.”

There’s danger in exaggerating the extent of the partisan divide, though. Galea told me that he’s been struck by the fact that so many Americans — including nearly all Republicans — report they are going along with health experts’ recommendations, like wearing masks, at least to some degree. And it would be a mistake, Galea said, to gloss over this unusual level of partisan unity, because it’s a sign that health behaviors aren’t as divisive as they could be, given the strength of partisan loyalties.

“Nobody should ignore the fact that people on the political extremes are embracing polarizing positions on health behavior that should not be polarized,” Galea said. “But I think the evidence we have indicates that most people have tried to be responsible and adopt the recommended behaviors, even at a time of immense polarization and confusion and discomfort.”

That said, he still thinks some politicians — and in particular, Trump — need to do more to get on the same page as public health experts. “It’s not that politics is making it impossible to implement these health behaviors, because we see that many ordinary people are getting on board regardless of what political leadership is saying,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean we should give politicians a pass for turning these serious, serious health conversations into a political football, because that is very much to our detriment.”

[thatrandomhufflepuff]

Lavender

A lot of people assumed she was dead after the battle. When they see her, they are constantly expressing their surprise at the fact, saying things like, “I can’t believe you made it!” and “You’re so lucky to have lived!”

The first couple of times, she thought it was because of the severity of her injuries. She knows she looks terrible, even if she hasn’t seen the full extent for herself yet. Her left eye is concealed under bandages, but Parvati told her quietly that Pomfrey wasn’t able to save it. And that’s not even mentioning the gashes all over her arms, chest, and back (and surely her face too, though she can’t see those). “They’re cursed scars, dear, I’m afraid there’s not much I can do,” Pomfrey had told her kindly.

After hearing enough surprised exclamations at her survival, Lavender begins to believe that no one expected her to survive the battle in the first place. Weak, pretty Lavender. She wasn’t meant to fight.

But she isn’t pretty anymore.

A year ago, Lavender would have been devastated. A year ago, her beauty had meant everything to her.

But Lavender is far from the same person she had been last spring- the simpering, giggling girl who had hung off of Ron Weasley’s arm like an accessory. That Lavender had not lived through hell for a year at Hogwarts. She had not survived Unforgivable Curses, had not had to sneak food from the Hog’s Head, had not yet known what it truly meant to be a Gryffindor.

She had not nursed friends back to health on cots in the Room of Requirement, wondering if she had done enough to save them. She hadn’t snuck out to spray paint walls with Seamus, praying they wouldn’t get caught and laughing with relief when they tumbled back through the hidden entrance. She had not yet had to miss her fellow classmates and fear for their lives when, one by one, they did not return to school. She had not had to stand up for her beliefs with the understanding that if her side did not win, many of her friends would likely not survive.

No, that Lavender would not recognize the Lavender who is laying in the Hospital Wing now, covered in scars and bandages and missing an eye. And she’s glad for that.

She’s been awake for about an hour and has only just managed to get Parvati to leave her side by begging her best friend to bring her a cuppa. Parvati had finally agreed, but took her sweet time leaving, playing with the hem of her robes and glancing at Lavender as though she may spontaneously combust if Parvati is not there to watch her. Lavender had rolled her one good eye at her friend.

She is only a little startled when the door to the Hospital Wing blasts open. It can’t be Parvati back with the tea yet, because she would never enter a room that way, especially a Hospital Wing, and she has only been gone for a minute. Madame Pomfrey looks to the door as if to reprimand the intruder, but obviously thinks better of it upon seeing his expression, and gestures him silently toward Lavender’s bed.

She only has a second to wonder about who it might be before Seamus Finnigan bursts into her line of sight. He looks a bit singed, which Lavender finds very fitting. Of course Seamus would find a way to fight with fire.

He stops very abruptly beside her bed, reaching his hand out as if to touch her and then immediately pulling it back, and then slumps down into Parvati’s chair, running his hand through his hair.

“Been looking for ya for ages, ya know?” He says, a cheeky grin beginning to form on his face.

Lavender, who is still bitter that so many people expected her to die, looks him dead in the eye and says, “Did you check in the morgue?”

Seamus’s head reels backwards, the grin wiped clean from his face. “No,” he replies earnestly, “Why would I ever look there? If anyone could survive this mess, it’d be you, Lav.”

Lavender lays her head back on her pillow and allows herself a wan smile. Seamus was there for this whole, horrible year. Seamus had seen what she was capable of. Seamus had believed in her, had known without a doubt that she would survive.

When Parvati returns with the tea minutes later, she quietly goes to open the door, so as not to disturb the patients. She sees Lavender sitting up in bed, a grin on her bandaged face, and Seamus by her side, talking with his hands as he regales her with some outrageous tale from the battle. Without announcing her presence (and without either of them noticing) she backs slowly out the door.

She’ll take Lavender’s tea to Dean, she thinks with a smile. Maybe to two of them can commiserate over the impending loss of their best friends to a relationship with each other.

[claudiaindarkness]

Character Questions

How well can they walk in tall thin heels?

Well enough. They were, and currently are, a fashion statement that many women follow. They don't expect make heels in child sizes so she had to get them specially made. When she did, she insisted on wearing them not stop until her feet hurt.

With an adult body she only wears them to raise eye brows and draw in watchful eyes. It depends on her outfit and her plans for the evening but yes. She wears them well.

What type of instruments can they play? (String instruments? Wind instruments?)

She is very skilled on the piano. Although she has studying all instruments out of boredom and in search of knowledge. She knows enough to have a basic understanding of any instruments in order to play simple things.

What type of dance can they do? (Break dance? Ballroom dancing? Mambo? Salsa?)

Her fathers had her learn ballroom dancing in the early years. As she grew older she became interested in many dances but because of her petite form many of them are a bit difficult.

With her adult form she didn't hesitate to go the clubs and experience many different dances. It didn't take her long to catch on. Don't look to close or she'll seduce you with her moves.

What type of food do they like? (Sweets? Savory? Spicy? Meat? Veggies? Fruit?)

Claudia isn't interested in consulting animal blood but when it comes to humans she's not picky. She has her favorites but she loves the taste of blood to much to turn her nose up at any of it. If she was hungry enough she would feed on an animal but her favorite is to feed on the beautiful and wealthy.

What type of people do they befriend? (The jocks? The preps? The nerds? The outcasts?)

Claudia tends to mostly be drawn to those she finds interesting. She doesn't go out of her way to make friends but mostly let's others come to her unless there's something about you that pulls at her curiosity. Aside from that she'll befriend anyone that doesn't annoy her.

What type of people do they tend to just attract? (Main characters? Moe characters? People of similar backgrounds?)

Claudia has always attracted any and every type of person. With her petite form, usually every where she goes eyes are on her.

Even with her adult form she seems to attract many different types of people. Whether it's because the seemed to recognize her from her old form or because there's something about her that perfumes off her and makes other want to talk to her.

What type of weapon would they use? (Guns? Swords? Knives? Bows?)

Despite being small she is extremely small so she doesn't need a weapon, although if she needed one she was choice a blade because of their beauty.

The same goes for her adult form. She would much prefer taking action into her own hands and feeling the damage she deals. With that in mind there is something about a blade that feels right in her hands.

What type of music do they listen to? (Pop? Rock? Metal?)

Her favorite is instrumental or smooth singers like Frank Sinatra, Louis Armstrong, or Dean Martin. With the progress of music she sought to listen to it all out of curiosity. Naturally, she found herself drawn to the music Lestat made which helped open her mind to all types of music.

What do they wear when they go to sleep?

Lestat and Louis always made sure her clothes were made of the finest cotton. When she slept she always wore nightgowns and prefers them over pajamas.

In her adult form she has come to loves silk and lace if she sleeps in clothes. Now that she actually enjoys how her body looks, she doesn't feel the need to hide it with clothes as she sleeps. She'll either wear silky nightgowns or nothing, since she enjoys the feeling of the sheets against her flesh.

What is their type?

She's attracted to beauty and anything that perks her curiosity. This leads her towards mysterious people and adventure. She's also attracted to strength but gentleness as well. She likes a balance between the two. Someone how can intrigue her and keep her company while not smothering her. They need to be strong to protect her(even if she doesn't need it) yet be gentle when necessary.

What is their ideal type of date? (Candle lit dinner? Moonlit walk on the beach?)

A moonlit walk on their way to their dinner. They would partake in a wonderful hunt. Afterwards they would go back to enjoying their walk before head back to one of their houses, depending on how their connection went during the hunt. They might just relax and talk together or...

What is their preferred location? (Home? Gym? Library?)

Definitely the library or garden.

What type of person did they grow into because of their past? (Angst past, angst person? Or angst past, good person?)

Claudia is very guarded and tries not to become too attracted to things. She does everything she can not to rely on others and isn't one to ask for help. She distant but once she has warmed up to someone she is very affectionate. Depending on the situation and who she's with, she can either be very gentle and happy or reserved and uninterested.

What type of wild animal would/could they befriend?

Claudia doesn't really like animals. While she was with Lestat and Louis they didn't have any pets so she didn't think much of them. She finds them interesting but for some reason has it in her mind that they don't like her.

What type of humor to they have? (Dirty humor? Self-deprecating? Puns?)

Claudia finds puns very amusing and does enjoy dirty jokes. She's to proud to use self-deprecating humor. Humor isn't a strong quality of hers but she enjoys listening to others jokes.

What’s their favourite colour?

Royal blue

What’s their signature colour?

She likes to wear red because it makes her think of Lestat or Marius. She enjoys wearing pastels as well as her favorite blue. Anything pretty and flattering.

In her adult form she really enjoys wearing black because she finds it dramatic and alluring.

Is their favourite colour their favourite because it’s their signature? Or is it their signature because it’s their favourite?

Neither, she only wears it for special occasions.

How do they prefer their hair to be styled? (Messy? Brushed? Loose? Tied?)

She is very impatient and because of her curls its easy for her to grow frustrated with this. Because of this she either has others style it out of her face or doesn't mess with it.

With her adult form, she is so use to not messing with her hair that she just lets it flow free and just brushes it ever evening.

What sort of hair accessories would they use? (Hair ties [are they accessories?], hair clips, those fancy hair combed things)

When they were in style, she wore many bonnets. After that she enjoyed elegant hair clips and jewels in her hair.

What is their ideal height? (What height do they wish they grew/will grow into?)

5 and a half feet

What’s their preferred food to order at a restaurant? (Like they go to a new place and their default choices are always like the steak, or main burger on the menu or smth)

At a restaurant she'll pick a salad to pretend to eat and something fancy looking. She doesn't care what it is as long as it looks extravagant.

She favorite victim are those who are beautiful and wealthy. Other than that it depends on her mood.

How often do they curse? (Moderate? Complete potty mouth? Never? Only when mad? Do they censor it like instead of “what the fuck” it’s “what the h!ck”)

She only really curses if she's angry or if she needs the word to emphasize something in a specific way.

-If so, do they not curse in front of specific people? If so, who they curse around?

She'll curse around anyone to get her point across.

How many people do they consider their best friends? (That is if they have a decent amount of friends)

She has a few friends but not many stick around long enough to become her best friend. Although there are many people she consider to be dear to her. Those people are on a different level than best friend. Its what every you would call between best friend and family, a side from a significant other.

How extra are they? (Are they ‘buys lover a bouquet of flowers everyday’ extra? Or are they ‘fly to a totally different country to visit crush/lover’ extra? Or are they ‘get drunk as hell then get mad over something and strip naked and flew on a building’ extra?)

Claudia is pretty dramatic but I'm not sure extra is the right word. Although I could see her doing that last one of "get drunk as he'll then get mad over something and strip naked and flew on a building" extra.

What sort of random and extra thing will they do for their lover/bff?

Claudia is one to give her lover anything they could ever need or want. Aside from showering them with gifts she also loves to shower them with affection. With that in mind she also knows how to give the other space despite being very possessive and the jealous type.

Tagged by: @rosefisherlioncourt

Tagging: @violentvioletviolinsblog @diestimme @wingsandcoffins @reginaqueenmills and anyone else that wants too!

[deletingpoint]

destiel fic recs part 3

Part 1

Part 2

I’ve added heart to the ones i really-really love for perhaps personal reasons, but otherwise these are all beautiful fics and you won’t regret reading them! (same goes for my previous lists obvi :))

<10 k

The Secret Santa of Cubicle Land by followyourenergy  Castiel Novak has never loved the workplace Secret Santa tradition, but he loves watching his coworker (and his very straight, secret crush) Dean Winchester’s enthusiastic responses to his daily gifts. Dean is so enthusiastic that he declares he’s going to ask his Secret Santa on a date.

Dry in the Downpour by almaasi  Dean was in half a mind – nay, three-quarters of a mind – just to turn back, go home, make coffee, call in sick and watch wrestling and porn all day, when the rain stopped abruptly.

He glanced around in surprise, then looked up.

An umbrella. Someone had put an umbrella over him.

Adagio by noangelsinthegarrison 

<3 “His name’s Dean," Cas sighs, "And he’s really stupidly attractive, and when he dances, he feels it, you know? And it makes me feel like I know him, even though I don’t. He makes me feel like… like he’s dancing just for me.”Gabriel rolls his eyes, “Wow, you’re over-dramatic when you’re horny.”

He Thought He Was Reckless by MajorEnglishEsquire  Cas settles back and rolls his head on the seat. Tugs on the corner of Dean’s jacket.

Sits there. Pathetic-looking and unnecessarily bleeding.

(a.k.a.: Dean is a super Soft Boy.)

The Age-long Rivalry Between Pilots and Engineers by Winglesss <3 Living on a space station isn´t easy. Especially when you share your quarters with someone like Castiel Novak. 

Irresistible by raths_kitten

<3 Castiel is a lonely wizard longing for a familiar to bond with. Dean just really wants a taste of this pie that’s luring him in somehow. 

so this is the miracle by deanniker He doesn't believe in magic, or fairytales, or happy endings. If someone were to ask his opinion, he'd say that the ball is nothing more than a clever stunt, something meant to drum up popular support for the new king, that would inevitably come to naught when he married some foreign princess.

No one asks him his opinion, of course.

10-50 k

A Brief Glimpse by cloudyjenn  Castiel is utterly convinced he can't love anyone, but Sam, so when a strange occurrence at a carnival shows him otherwise, he doesn't know what to do. 

Unholy Ground by teacass (Fushigi)  “And I’m not a vandal,” the man shoots back. “My name’s Dean. And I think there’s been a misunderstanding—”

“No,” Castiel hisses. “I have watched you. I have seen you creep around with your shovel and your gun and I have seen you trying to desecrate the graves, my graves, so do not talk to me about a misunderstanding—” Dean holds his hands up and shakes his head. “Shit, man, I swear I’m not trying to—” Castiel has had enough, though, so he flicks his wrist and pushes Dean over one of the tombstones and down to the ground. Dean falls with a grunt and tries to stand up quickly, but Castiel keeps him pinned to the ground with a raise of his eyebrow. “I am the guardian of this cemetery,” he states when he stops and looks down on the struggling man. “I will not be made a fool of, especially not by someone like you.” 

Chili Peppers by justanothersong for literaryoblivion  Dr. Winchester hears an off hand comment from one of his students and find himself browsing a website dedicated to rating university professors. He's not surprised by his rating -- but is a little miffed to see the department chair has an even better one. Clearly, something needs to be done about this. 

The Choice by RedheadedSuperhero  To solidify the alliance between the Houses of Veenah and Winchester, Castiel agrees to marry one of Lord John’s sons. It’s not like he has any say in that matter anyway – as a marriage of convenience is the fate of almost any royal omega. He is even grateful that the king of Winchester had offered him to make his own choice between his three children. From all he had heard, Castiel already likes the scholar Samuel from afar; he certainly prefers him to the infamous Demon Knight or Adam, who is hardly more than a pup. So, he believes his decision is already made as he travels towards his new home.

But unfortunately, things go horribly wrong, and Castiel finds himself alone in an unclaimed forest, with only a strange hunter to help him find his way the castle of Winchester. And by the time he arrives, he might have already changed his mind.

Don't Be So Charming by PieDarling  - Very loosely based on the movie “Prince Charming” -

Prince Dean was always meant to be fortunate, all the fairies and witches in the kingdom of his father would shower him with gifts. However, one of them had a deep darkness in her heart and out of selfishness cursed him instead, condemning him to have everyone fall under his charm and never know true love. His only hope is to break the curse before his 21st birthday.

At first, Dean is lost. How can he fall in love when everyone he meets falls under his charm? He finds hope in a magic coin his mother left him and in search of that hope he sets out on a journey with his childhood friend, Castiel, as his companion. Castiel is the only person Dean has ever met to not be affected by his curse, he trusts him more than anyone else.

Manifest Destiny by KreweOfImp  The year is 1899. The Wild West is in its dying days—but don’t tell that to the outlaws of Eastern Kansas. The gangs are Winchester and Novak, and the feud is bitter and blood-soaked.

The families were friendly once upon on a time, but that time is long gone, and when Michael Novak, the second-in-command to the Novaks, sees the opportunity to have Dean, golden boy and heir apparent to the Winchester gang at his mercy, he takes it. They have history, Michael and Dean, and he’s been waiting on this opportunity for a long time.

What Michael didn’t bank on was that his cousin Castiel, the Novak gang’s resident scapegoat and outcast, would have some sympathy for the prisoner—let alone start to like him.

Eyes Like Knives by jennyfly for palominopup  When rockstar Dean Winchester comes home to Austin to play a stop on his sold-out tour, he's surprised after the encore by a hot cop barging backstage to deliver some awful news. Not only is Detective Castiel Novak the bearer of bad news, but he also wants to question Dean's estranged brother, Sam. Can a frantic police investigation over the course of a single weekend result in a lasting romance? Hey, this is fanfiction; why not? 

Knocking on Heaven's Door by sir_kingsley  Dean Winchester left Castiel Novak in pieces when he broke off their engagement 21 days before they were supposed to get married. Now, a year later, Castiel has put himself back together and is moving on with his life and he seems to be doing okay. Until Dean comes knocking on his door at ass-o'clock in the morning. Now Cas must come to terms with the mess of a man who broke his heart but somehow still... has it. 

Shadow and Storm by zaphodsgirl  One night, a mysterious visitor appears in young Prince Dean's bedroom, and he suddenly finds himself transported to an abandoned replica of his home in an unknown land. He learns quickly that the borders are finite, and none may leave without incurring the wrath of the guardian: a dragon the people call Storm.

Left with no choice, Dean adapts to life as the others have, tending to the animals and working the land to survive. As he grows up, the life he knew as a prince seems more and more distant, until a new person arrives that he remembers from his childhood. Shaken by this arrival, Dean’s desire to escape returns anew, and he discovers more than he wanted to know about the Shadowlands and its occupants -- especially about the mysterious guardian of the castle, Castiel.

Such Familiar Magic by saltnhalo  When solitary witch Castiel finds an injured dog unconscious in his garden, he takes it in. He's expecting to heal it, look after it for a few days, then perhaps return it to its owners.

He's not expecting it to be one of the strongest familiars he's ever met.

The Greatest International Love Story the World Has Ever Seen by MalMuses  Dean wasn’t the type of person who did this kind of thing. He just wasn’t. GISH?? Ugh. The whole thing was just further proof that Dean would do anything his brother wanted him to do. Why else would he be in a Stormtrooper costume, calling up his ex-girlfriend for a private yoga class? Had he been stuck in a rut that long? Given that he’d been pining for the same freakin’ guy, his professor and coworker no less, for three long years… maybe.

Cas was definitely the type of person who did this kind of thing, not that many people knew that. He was one of the most well-respected professors at KSU. His students and coworkers didn’t need to know that he was captain of a GISH team, or that he knitted kinky accessories and made art with his online friends. His TA certainly didn’t need to know either. Just professionalism, of course. Nothing at all to do with the failed attempt at a relationship, three years of pining, and frequent inappropriate daydreams.

A two-person love triangle with online friendships, costumes, and a lot of glitter.

Scintilla by WinchestersRaven  Dean Winchester: ghost hunter extraordinaire! Call now for all your paranormal needs!

He cringes at the flyer. It's tacky and cliche, but Sam insisted it would bring in more customers. And dammit, if he wasn't right--this new case sounds like a doozy.

Dean’s a medium with a unique gift of being an empath. Seeing and speaking with the dead is as normal to him as speaking with his brother, Sam. A new job leads him to Georgia, Castiel Novak, and a historical home that’s tucked away on a mountain. As he investigates, he not only uncovers the secrets of his client’s family but also one of his own that he may not recover from. One that has the potential to destroy the budding relationship that is quickly forming between him and Castiel. Will they make it through to see the light on the other side? Or will the darkness that surrounds the home claim them as its next victims?

If At First You Don't Succeed (Destroy All Evidence That You Ever Tried) byjustkeeponwriting “Three days, Cas,” Dean groaned. “You’re not going to call her tomorrow and scare her off, like you always do! Or worse, tonight! That has ‘creeper’ written all over it.”Or, the one where Dean pretends to be a woman who likes to text Cas in order to teach him a lesson, and finds that he’s way in over his head. (Inspired by How I Met Your Mother's episode 4x21, "The Three Days Rule".)

Pineapple on Pizza by HigherMagic In a world where everyone is colorblind until meeting their soulmate, Castiel suddenly sees color during one of his concerts.

Lois Lane Never Had it So Hard by FunnyWings <3 It started with the most humiliating picture of Dean Winchester's life and just snowballed from there.When a sinister new big bad moves into Lawrence Kansas, will the local heroes (and maybe a few villains) be able to band together and save their home?

Get a Whiff of This by bendingsignpost <3 When no good deed goes unpunished, Dean ends up sentenced to community service for physically defending another Omega at his job. That is, at his former job. It's all a steaming pile of shit, and that's exactly what he has to clean up at the joint animal shelter and clinic he's been assigned to.With a face full of allergies and a horrific mood, all Dean has to do is get through six weeks of this sinus-assaulting torture. That's not so easy with a smartass Alpha receptionist, but at least the weird Beta vet might just end up being kinda cool.

Dean Winchester is Not Afraid of Ghosts by Desirae When photographer Dean Winchester is not capturing momentous occasions like weddings and graduations with his Nikon, he is moonlighting as the cameraman for the South Shore Paranormal; a ghost hunting series on YouTube, headed by his brother Sam, and Sam's best friend Gabriel.Despite his brother's adamance, Dean Winchester does not believe in ghosts. And no one is going to change his mind. Certainly not a scam artist like Castiel Novak. Castiel is a self-proclaimed medium... and Gabriel's brother. When a member of the SSP team has to leave the crew, Castiel is the replacement, much to Dean's dismay. But the more they work together, the more Dean is drawn to Castiel, the man stirring up protective instincts usually only reserved for family.What happens when Dean realizes that Castiel is not the fake he always thought he was, but instead, a generous soul that Dean is rapidly falling in love with?

Looking For Group by athaclena  Dean Winchester is in love with his best friend, a man he has never met, who goes by the handle AngelofThursday. Problem is, Thursday values his privacy and refuses to meet. Dean buries himself in his work at his bakery Slice of Pi and in computer games, desperately trying to move on from a man he can never have.

James Novak has problems of his own. Trying to cling onto what sense of security he can, he drifts around the city from café to coffee-shop to bar, using their wi-fi to keep his online footprint anonymous. He falls in lust with The Beautiful Man at his favourite coffee-shop, Study/Break, and turns to his best friend The_Michaelsword for advice.

A two-person love triangle for the digital age.

Time Still Exists by starespressos Castiel Novak has dreamed of participating in a theater dancing project forever. When a spot opens at Rowena MacLeod's theater, he jumps right in -- even though it means taking over from someone who has recently passed away. Soon enough, he meets Dean, who spends almost as much time at the theater as Castiel does but refuses to share any details about himself. Castiel is intrigued by him, and not only because Dean is the first person in a long time to treat him with anything less than admiration. As their friendship and the mystery around Dean deepen over time, Castiel’s perception of both himself and the universe is changed forever. 

Falling Through The Ice by athaclena for JupiterJames  Dean's finally retired from the Dallas Stars, and he's back at his original home ice-rink for a publicity stunt for his autobiography. Problem is, he has to do something that terrifies him. Second problem is, he has to do it in front of the man he was best friends with as a kid, until the ice cracked under him and he was left on the wrong side of an increasingly large chasm.

A story about smashing expectations (and some pumpkins), what it means to be brave, and how to follow your heart. Also, smut.

Genie in a Bottle by thepopeisdope

<3 When Dean finds (okay, steals) a bottle containing a strange, glowing blue substance, he does so thinking it's a cool novelty, at best. It didn't exactly cross his mind that the substance might be a living being, let alone a grumpy, sarcastic, perpetually-underdressed genie waiting for a new master. But now that he has a bona fide genie at his disposal, well-what better chance will he have to help things along with Lisa?

Except, things don't always go as expected, relationships are complicated, magic is never the solution, and sometimes the person you want isn't the person you need.

Between the Lines by JhanaMay Environmental rights activist Castiel Novak may not have grown up on the Plains, but he has thrown himself into protecting and conserving South Dakota’s natural treasures as if he was a native. When Dean Winchester, Hollywood’s modern day John Wayne, comes to South Dakota to film his next movie, Cas is more focused on preventing the environmental damage Dean’s movies cause than hoping for a chance to meet him. After Cas makes some negative comments on social media about the actor’s authenticity as a cowboy, he is invited to spend a week alone with the star, roughing it in the wilderness. Cas sets out to prove exactly how fake Dean Winchester really is, but he isn’t expecting to find out that Dean is a troubled man running from a past that is just as difficult as his own.

50-100 k

so bitter and so sweet by superhoney  Dean has known about the family curse ever since it claimed the life of his mother: anyone who dares to love a Winchester is fated to die. When he takes a chance on love and loses his husband Benny, his belief in its power only grows stronger.

Two years later, a late-night phone call from his brother Sam sends both of their lives spinning wildly out of control. Then Officer Cas Novak arrives in town, looking into the disappearance of Sam’s girlfriend Ruby, and starts asking questions Sam and Dean can’t answer. Complicating matters even further, Dean feels an immediate, overwhelming connection to the intense, blue-eyed source of their problems.

Dealing with all the secrets, the lies, and a brother slowly crumbling under the weight of his guilt doesn’t leave much time for romance, but as Cas gets closer to the truth, he also gets closer to Dean.

Will you be my ten inch hero? by NotfunnyDean (IronEyes) When John Winchester kicks Dean out, after he saw him kissing another boy, and Dean sees that Sam has a perfect life at Stanford without him, Dean starts a new life in Santa Cruz. He works at a tiny shop as a cook, has found some friends there, and is overall happy enough. That changes when Castiel comes into his shop and his Co-worker Azara, who has a different man every night, starts flirting with him right in front of Dean. Not that he would be jealous or anything, but there is something about Castiel that makes him weak in the knees. Only that Castiel would never want him back, right?

Reality of Dreams by sternchencas for my sister  Dean Winchester has been living a boring life. At least until his brother is missing, the police think he has something to do with it, and a group of people who call themselves 'Liberi Somniorum' and live in an underground bunker ask him to join them so they can teach him how to use his dreaming abilities. As if that isn't bad enough, the police also took his car and then there's this guy in a trenchcoat who's guarding him, and some dark secret. Dean does his best to convince himself it's a dream. But somehow, sometimes, dreams can be very real, and this time, he just can't wake up. 

Green Corners by rustling_pages

<3 After the death of his son, there is nothing left for Dean other than his garden market. His days are tough, the nights are tougher, but at least there's a reason to get up in the morning. And with the new boom on do-it-yourself garden magic, his business is going okay.

Amidst the passing of time, there is only one thing that distracts him from functioning like a normal human being: Diagonally across the street, in the display window of that traditional Herb and Potion shop, plants are dying in masses.

Storming in to confront the owner goes differently than he imagined, though. Castiel Novak may be the kind of guy who wears old-fashioned mage robes and keeps his shop in sweltering heat, but he's also a talented herbalist, the kindest soul Dean has ever met, and utterly beautiful.

Not that Dean is ready for anything other than friendship.

(Not that Cas doesn’t get sick a bit too often.)

And This, Your Living Kiss by opal_bullets <3 Only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet Jack Allen is just Kansas mechanic Dean Winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. Not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen.Until, that is, a string of coincidences leads Dean to auditing a poetry course with one Dr. Castiel Novak. The professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia's foremost expert on the poetry of Jack Allen.

Turn the World to Gold by superhoney, teacass (Fushigi)

<3 Just as Dean is starting to get comfortable at his new mining job in Nevada, the site is shaken by the announcement of a six-week visit from a team of consultants hired to make changes to the practices and procedures of the mine. Among that team is Castiel Novak, one of the most coolly infuriating, stuck-up, unfairly attractive men Dean has ever met.

The friction between them comes to a head during an unexpected but scorching hot makeout session at a company picnic, and they soon fall into a pattern of hooking up at the site or after work at Castiel’s hotel. But it’s just sex, or so they keep telling themselves. Castiel is only in Nevada for six weeks. They’ll have their fun, and then it’ll be over. But as those six weeks go by and they gradually get to know each other, both of them find themselves wondering if there might be a chance it could become something more.

Where the Lightning Splits the Sea by thepopeisdope Seattle’s hero never fails to live up to his given nickname. Like an angel, he appears when he’s needed most, a miracle when none is expected; he gets in quick, then gets out quicker, and like the angel he is, he goes off to perform his miracles elsewhere, often without any link between one miracle and the next, aside from the fact that he shows up when someone needs help.That’s how Dean met him, after all. The Angel is the only reason he’s alive.And that’s also why Dean is more than a little bit in love with him.But when the Angel is suddenly defeated, Dean’s world turns on its head. His city is in a vacuum, heroless for the first time in years, and to make Dean’s life even harder, his roommate has turned quiet, withdrawn. Dean doesn’t know what happened to make Cas’ mood swing so drastically, but he wants nothing more than to see him happy again. Dean owes the Angel a debt. Choosing between the two isn’t an easy thing to do.When the Hunter is born, the balance becomes nearly impossible to keep up.

Pining Sickness; Or, Murder With One Stone by athaclena, iraeim New York, 1895. The rigid customs of the old century are beginning to fall away, allowing access to the professions for more people than just Omega men and Alpha women. Dean Winchester, the city’s first Alpha male Detective, uncovers evidence that a mysterious new illness killing mated couples might have its origins is the criminal rather than the medical.Castiel Novak is a respectable Omega doctor who has started to see patients dying cruelly of something he cannot cure or even effectively treat. Approached by the Detective to once again give his medical expertise, he is eager to work towards finding a cause and, he hopes, a cure for the unfortunate sufferers. But both men harbour a secret attraction towards the other, and the quest for the truth will stretch their relationship beyond its limits.A historical murder mystery set against a backdrop of a non-traditional Omegaverse.

Silver and Cold by superhoney The death of a young man in an apparent animal attack brings hunter Cas Novak to the small town of Sydnam, Maine. It doesn’t take long for him to realize he’s tracking a werewolf, but discovering the killer’s identity is no easy task. All signs point towards Dean Winchester, a lonely recluse who lives in the middle of the woods and whose antagonistic behaviour does little to lessen Cas’ suspicions.As the investigation drags on, their mutual distrust gives way to a wary alliance. Cas’ instincts warn him that Dean is hiding something, but as he uncovers the man beneath the mystery, his professional interest becomes far more personal. Praying his faith in Dean isn’t misplaced, Cas races to catch the killer before the next full moon rises and another life is abruptly cut short.

The Horse-King by cloud_wolfbane, opal_bullets  When orphans Sam and Dean Winchester get jobs in Horsetown, they figure that being stable boys is just their lot in life. But when King Metatron takes a peculiar liking to an even more peculiar horse they find themselves in the middle of an intrigue they barely understand, leading to an adventure full of magic and mystery, faith and betrayal, and maybe - if they survive it - love. 

In Some Sacred Place by Hellosaidthemoon, schmerzerling  Dean has cystic fibrosis, a brutal respiratory disease that means he can’t cut it in the life his father chose for him, despite his very best efforts. He also has a give ‘em hell attitude and a dogged crush on his childhood best friend. Castiel has an absent father, a stellar GPA, a comprehensive ten-year plan, and—a lot of reservations about all this. 

Should've Just Asked by Annie D (scaramouche) Despite their age gap and differing social circles, Castiel has struck up a warm friendship with Mary Winchester, a wealthy widowed socialite. When Castiel needs a place to stay, Mary invites him into her house, where there’s loads of spare room. Castiel’s aware that they make an odd pair, but he doesn’t fully realize how things look to outsiders, especially to Mary’s eldest son. All Dean Winchester sees is that his mom has apparently hooked up with a hot young guy (who is totally Dean’s type) and that makes things… weird.

100+ k

The Brave and the Bold by manifestingwings  In a world where dragons reign over the mountains and terror looms in the streets of the city of Lavendel, Dean Winchester never expected his main problem to be a surly thief with eyes like the sea and a rare smile. As Captain of the Guard, he knows he has to arrest him for his crimes, but there may be bigger things at stake… 

Shot Through The Heart by peanutbutterjelly-pie (Aleakim)  As a hunter Dean finds himself more often than not relying on the help of the Men of Letters. Most of the time that's not much of a problem - if it wasn't for Castiel, the smartass bookworm with the piercing blue eyes, the messy hair and the rude attitude.

He's been an annoying thorn in Dean's side since day one - and the hunter doesn't see that change anytime soon!

Everyone's a Critic by Englandwouldfall  The one where uninspired chef Dean Winchester has a one night stand with the male (!) food critic who described the flavour of his garlic bread as 'closeted' and accidentally ends up dating him to try and prove that he's a kick ass chef, thank you very much.

(He may have a point about the 'closeted' thing).

Dreaming in Digital by Ltleflrt for jupiter_james  Set in a Cyberpunk world where global warming and climate change has driven most of the human population into domed cities, Sam and Dean hunt rogue tech and science experiments gone wrong in the shadows, protecting the lives of those the government doesn't care about anymore. On a trip to the dump to scavenge for valuables Dean finds Castiel, an Angel Industries sex bot, which is worth his weight in credits. But when he turns the sex bot on, he learns that Castiel is sentient.

Artificial Intelligence is illegal, and for good reason, but Cas doesn't put off dangerous vibes. That doesn't stop Sam from researching his creators while Dean's off making friends with the android. If there's someone out there creating a robot army unconstrained by the 3 rules of robotics, Sam's going to make sure the operation is shut down for good.

Castiel just wants to exist. He wants to read and work in the Winchester's greenhouse and have movie nights with Dean. But he also wants to understand. Himself. His unexpected reaction to Dean. What it it means to feel.

A Graced Kingdom by angvlicmish

<3 this is a wip but i can’t not add it!!! Ten years ago, the Northern Continent was at peace, angels and humans living side by side until the human King Winchester of Torrin waged war against the angels in an attempt to wipe them out - an attempt that almost succeeded. However, to this day some angels still remain in hiding and with an unpredictable turn of events one of them finds himself as the personal guard to King Winchester’s firstborn son, Prince Dean. With a strange ability no angel has had before - to hide his own wings - no one knows that they have just let their greatest enemy into the heart of their kingdom.

Alone and struggling to deal with being surrounded by the ones who slaughtered his people, Castiel comes head to head with the Crown Prince. But what he finds within the man is not what he expected and they soon become each other’s only comfort.

Will Dean be the strength Castiel needs to pull through or will he be the weakness that will tear everything to pieces?

[lovemesomerafael]

It’s Complicated                           Chapter 2:  The Rest Of The Story

Source:  @fortheloveofbarba

Read Chapter 1

The man in the box was a good candidate.  He’d been arrested trying to fence items stolen from not one, but two of the victims.  Not only that, but he was angry and uncooperative, and his interaction with Lieutenant Benson and Sergeant Dodds thus far in the interrogation was certainly nasty enough to be consistent with the guy Dr. Rojas had said they were looking for.  However, he wouldn’t give them DNA, and he had alibis for the times of the rapes.  Fin and Rollins were out at that moment checking them out.

Barba and Rojas stood on opposite sides of the one-way glass in Benson’s office, as far apart as they could, as they watched the interrogation, hoping for a break.  Over the three weeks they’d been working together, things had not improved between them.

“Y’all trippin’,” sneered the skinny, tweaked-out kid. “You wastin’ your time.  I told you where I was when them rapes went down. Just check it out.”

“We’re doing that,” Dodds said.  “In the meantime, maybe you can tell us where you got the stuff you were trying to sell.  Because it’s pretty suspicious that it belongs to two of the women who were raped.”

“I done told you that.  Some dude gave it to me.”

Dodds sighed and moved closer to the suspect, whom Dodds dwarfed.  “Describe the dude,” he said, slowly and distinctly.

“I don’t feel like it.”  

Barba was scowling thoughtfully.  “This kid knows a lot about this case that he’s not saying,” he muttered to himself.

Frankie cut her eyes to him.  She’d just been thinking the same thing.  “But he’s not our guy.”

“No. And we’re asking the wrong questions.”  

“Have you noticed his weird affect?  I can’t pin it down, but there’s something…” 

As she looked at Barba while he stared thoughtfully into the interrogation room, Frankie noticed for the first time how well-cut his hair was.  She knew an expensive haircut when she saw one.   She wondered whether that was what Amanda had been talking about when she’d called him hot. He did have a nice profile, she supposed.  To be fair, he wasn’t ugly by any stretch.  And since Amanda had mentioned his green eyes, she had noticed those, too. But hot?  Barba?  Not with that personality.  

Suddenly, it struck her what the witness’s behavior reminded her of.  “You ever see a little kid try to keep a secret?  How they’re just busting with it, dying to tell?”

Barba looked over at her, nodding.  “Yes.”  He looked back through the glass, still nodding.  “Yes.”

As he watched the suspect, he had to admit that was a good description of his behavior.  After just that brief look at Dr. Rojas, he also had to admit that she was wearing a very nice suit today, which fit her extremely well.  He’d noticed that all her accessories, from the necklace that - though subtle - probably cost as much as his suit, to the chic shoes that elongated and accentuated her legs without drawing attention to themselves, showed excellent taste.  Barba usually liked well-dressed women, but on her, the effect was ruined.  Rather than appreciating her outfit, Barba found that it left a sour taste in his mouth.  He knew that he would probably have admired her if he hadn’t known who Francisca Rojas was. But he did.  He knew that she was one of them. She might be Latina, but she wasn’t one of his people.

Rafael Barba was insightful enough, at least, to recognize that he had a particular chip on his shoulder when it came to Dr. Rojas and the rest of her privileged class, to whom everything came entirely too easily. People who expected that, and believed it to be no more than their due, and who had very little regard for people like him and his family, who had to earn their achievements.  Any display of unearned wealth disturbed him on a deep level wherever he saw it, and he was looking at it right now.  Her father might be self-made, but she was not.

He had met far too many of her type in his life. His parents had sacrificed to send him to Catholic school so that he would get the best possible education, which meant all his friends from Jerome Avenue were together at public school while he was incarcerated with all the posh kids from the surrounding area.  With the fierce cruelty of children to anyone who stands out, his classmates had made sure he understood his inferiority, mocking everything about him that set him apart, even the fact that he was smarter than any of them.  It didn’t get better in college, it was just more well-concealed.  And at Harvard…  Well, Rafael had actually preferred Catholic school.   At Harvard, the culture of overt prejudice against “scholarship kids” was not only blatant but encouraged, and highlighted by an irremediable difference of wealth and social class that no amount of achievement could touch.  It was there that Rafael’s dislike of the trappings of wealth and social distinction was honed to a razor-sharp hatred.

Getting nothing further from the suspect, Benson and Dodds eventually had to end the questioning and arrest the suspect for nothing more than receiving stolen goods.  None of them thought he was the rapist, and none of them thought he was going to give them anything that might lead them to the rapist.  When Fin and Rollins returned, having confirmed his alibis for the times of the rapes, no one was surprised.

As the suspect was being led out of the box to be booked, Olivia signaled.  “Rafa, Dr. Rojas, can we talk in my office?”

Hearing that, the suspect involuntarily flinched and turned to look at Frankie, lighting up with interest.  Trouble was written plainly in his sudden wide smile as he gave her an insolent once-over.  “You’re Frankie Rojas?  I know someone who is looking for you.”

“Oh?”  She asked, too surprised to hide her reaction.

“Yeah.  Alan sends his best,” the skinny punk laughed as he was led from the squad room.  

Frankie blanched and appeared to falter as she put a hand out to steady herself on the nearest desk.  Barba and Olivia shared a look.  What was that?  

They headed into Olivia’s office and took positions around the small room, Olivia behind her desk, and Barba and Rojas on opposite sides of the couch.  Mike Dodds started to close the door but was stopped by a tall, very good-looking man with dark hair whom no one had noticed enter the squad room.

“Hey, Porter,” Dodds said, holding the door open looking expectantly over at Lieutenant Benson.

She smiled regretfully.  “Ten minutes, Dean.  I’m sorry, we just need to have a short debrief.”

Frankie surprised everyone by standing up from the couch and saying, “No, I think he should come in.  And I think he should stay.”

All eyes turned to her as she looked at Olivia’s live-in boyfriend, FBI Agent Dean Porter, who had come to take Olivia to lunch. Normally, that would have been cause for a fair amount of suggestive joking, since the relationship was fairly new and rumored to be very physical, but not today.

“He’s here,” Frankie said to Porter, the fear in her voice unmistakable.  “Porter, Alan is here.”

“Fuck,” Porter said, and closed the door.

Olivia briefly scanned the faces in the room, paying extra attention to Rojas and Porter.  She looked from one to the other, saying, “Is someone going to explain what’s going on?”

Porter held out a hand to Frankie, inviting her to speak.  He and Dodds remained standing while she collapsed back into her seat.  She took a deep breath and exhaled it forcefully before beginning.

“Everything you know about me is true.  Porter and I did meet at Quantico and we did… work together. When you hear ‘we worked together’, that sounds like we were partners or on the same team or something, and we let that impression stand.  We were both working Major Crimes, but that’s not… that’s not how we knew each other. We knew each other because I was a victim in one of his cases.”  She sighed again.  “There was a man – is a man named Alan Canady.  Long story short, he wants to kill me.”

After dropping that grenade, Frankie simply waited for questions.  None came. She looked around for help, but everyone in the room was too skilled an interrogator to think of interrupting.  

So she continued.  “We met in San Antonio, when I first started with the Bureau.  He and I dated for about six months.  It’s the textbook story we’ve all heard a million times.  At first, he seemed entirely normal.  But then, over time, he got progressively more possessive.  It happened so slowly I didn’t realize it at first.  Have I missed any of the clichés yet?”

Olivia muttered, “Stop it, Doc.  We’re familiar with the pattern, yes.  But we don’t judge our victims here.  Just tell us what happened.”

Frankie smiled thinly in gratitude.  It was one thing to be the one who got to say those things.  It was another to believe them when they were said to you.

“One day, something happened.  It was so small, just one of those little, stupid things that happen every day.  I had to work late, and then my car wouldn’t start.  By then, Alan had all these rules. I was supposed to call him any time I wasn’t going to be where I’d said I would, but we didn’t even have a date that night, and we didn’t live together or anything… And then when my car wouldn’t start, one of my coworkers was right there, and he gave me a ride home.  I didn’t even think about it until we got to my house, and Alan was there.  He was seething.  He accused me of… well, this isn’t a very original story.  You know the rest.  It was the first time he hit me.  And then it escalated, like it always does, until I ended up in the hospital.  So I broke up with him.  He went nuts, stalked me for a while, and was such a general pain in my ass that I decided to take a position in Virginia to get away from him. I thought that was the end of it, until he showed up there.”

“He followed you to Virginia?”  Barba asked.

Frankie was having a hard enough time working around the shame of having to reveal this to her new colleagues.  She simply couldn’t respond to Barba, of all people.  She could only imagine what he would be like to work with now.

“He followed her and torched her house,” Porter answered for her.  “With her asleep inside.”

“Shit,” Dodds hissed.

“I don’t think he was trying to kill me at that point.  It was easy enough to get out once I woke up.  He was just trying to scare me into taking him back.”  Frankie pointedly did not look at anyone but Porter, who knew the whole story.  “Anyway, that’s when I met Porter.  Alan was always one step ahead of us.  It doesn’t look like he moved to Virginia, which is part of why he was so hard to trace. He just visited enough to make my life miserable and keep me scared.  But he escalated.  That’s when Porter started to recommend that I leave town.  In retrospect, I should have, but I fought it for a long time.  I was so pissed!  I didn’t want to have to start over in a new city, again.”

“So what happened?”  Dodds asked.  

“Porter came to New York to be with Olivia and the Bureau assigned a new Special Agent to the case.  When she came on, she took one look and said I had to get out of Virginia. Alan was trying to kill me for real, and he was going to succeed one of these times.  She said that Porter and I were like those frogs in the pot of water. You know that saying?  You turn up the heat gradually enough and they’ll just get used to it until they’re boiled alive, not realizing how hot it is?  She said it was too hot for me to stay at Quantico, and she went over my head to get me reassigned.  She called Porter, who knew about this job because of Olivia, and here I am.  You can read the file if you want.  You probably should.  Because now Alan’s here.  Already.”

The room digested the new information.

“How do you know?”  Porter asked.  “How do you know he’s here?”  

“We were questioning a suspect just now,” Dodds answered.  “When he heard Liv call her ‘Dr. Rojas’, he recognized her name.  He called her by her first name and he told her ‘Alan sends his best.’”  

Porter looked concerned.  “What was the suspect’s crime?”  

“We’re charging him with receiving stolen goods, but we were questioning him because the stolen goods belonged to two victims of the rapist we’re calling Pattern 20,” Rafael answered.  He was watching Dr. Rojas carefully.  From the complex look on her face, she wasn’t thinking anything good.

“Is he good for the rapes?”  Porter asked.

“We don’t think so,” Rafael responded.  He thought Rojas was suddenly very quiet for someone who enjoyed sharing her opinions as freely as she did.    

“How’s this tweaker kid know who Frankie is? How’s he make the connection between her and Alan Canady?”  Porter mused, looking at Olivia but not particularly asking the question of her. Frankie looked at her, too, hoping she’d have an idea, because that was the question bothering Frankie, too.

“That’s what we’re going to ask him,” Olivia answered. “Let’s get lunch while he’s being booked.”

The group filed out of the office, with Dodds holding the door.  Due to her position in the room, Frankie was the last one to reach the door.  

“Doc, a word?”  Dodds asked.

“Sure,” she said, hanging back while he re-closed the door.

“I’m sure the Lieu won’t mind if we borrow her office,” Dodds said, indicating the couch.  They both sat.  

“What’s on your mind?”  She asked.

“That’s my question to you, actually.  Guy tries to kill you multiple times, runs you out of two cities and chases you to a third…  I’m guessing you have some thoughts about that.”

“You trying to shrink the shrink?”  Frankie’s smile didn’t reach her eyes.

Mike simply replied, “Yes.”

Frankie stood, hugging her arms to her waist and looking out the window into the squad room.  “I appreciate it, Sergeant.  I do. And you’re right.  I question what it was about me that this prick thought he could treat me the way he did.  I feel like a damn imbecile, choosing him to date when I’m supposed to be an expert on this kind of stuff.  But most of all, now I’m fucking scared again.  And that pisses me off.”

She turned around to look at him again.  “That about what you expected to hear?”

He shrugged.  “Just about.  You’re the psychiatrist, and you have more experience in this field than I do, but all that sounds pretty damn normal to me.”

“It is.  But that doesn’t make me hate it any less.”  

Dodds nodded but didn’t say anything, just giving her an opportunity to talk if she needed to.

“I appreciate the shoulder, Sergeant.  But I’d appreciate an arrest more.”

“Understood.  And one other thing.”

“Yes?”

“You’ve said ‘fucking’ in front of me now.  That means you get to call me Mike.”

Frankie insisted upon being in the room when they questioned the tweaker kid again.  When Barba refused to allow it, she initially tried to talk him around, but he refused even to consider it.  The harder she pushed, the angrier he became, until the argument became so heated, Olivia insisted they go into one of the other interrogation rooms to work it out. She then had to stop Carisi and Rollins from using the speaker to eavesdrop.  Even without the speaker, it was easy enough to hear Barba and Rojas shouting at one another in Spanish.  Olivia knew just enough to recognize that some of the words they were using were not polite.

“This is my life, Barba!  I am going to be there.”

“’This is my life?’  Really?  Isn’t that what teenagers say when their parents won’t let them drop out of school to become beat poets?”

“Don’t you fucking patronize me!  I have as much right to be in that room as you do, and you cannot keep me out.”

“In fact, you don’t, and I can.  And I am.”

“This man has tried to kill me multiple times. He’s here to try again.  I’m not playing games here.”

“Neither am I, Doctor.  I’m doing my job.  I’m making sure that your little tantrum doesn’t destroy three separate criminal cases. One of which, I might add, is yours.”

“My little tantrum…?”  

“I realize you aren’t all that familiar with the word ‘no’, but I also realize you have a law degree and, although you’ve never practiced law, you should at least recognize the concept that having the victim do the interrogation is a bit of a conflict of interest.”

Frankie was too angry to form a coherent sentence. “You egotistical son of a…  strutting around like a tin-pot dictator in your little fiefdom…”

“Calling names is not particularly refined discourse, Doctor.  But if we were calling names, I’d call you a fresa[1] and suggest you go have your nails done and let the rest of us get to work.”

”A… A…  you did not just call me a fresa to my face.”

“Nothing wrong with your grasp of the obvious.  I’m going to…”  He started moving toward the door, but she stepped in front of him, stopping with their faces very close together as they shouted.

“I am a fully-qualified Forensic Psychiatrist with all the credentials.  I’m perfectly qualified to take part in questioning this suspect.  I happen to be very good at interrogations, which you would know if you ever took your eyes off the mirror.  I also know this case.  That is why I should be in that room!  Anything else you might think is utter bullshit.”

“Really.  I can’t help but notice you’re quite unhappy about being one of the lowly victims we work so hard to protect.  It’s lovely to play the lady bountiful in your pristine Elie Saab, but it must be terrible for you to have to rub elbows with the great unwashed…”

“Stop talking.” She growled.  

“With pleasure.  Get out of my way.  I have an interrogation to attend.”

For a very, very long moment, they stood there, glaring at one another, their breath heaving in their anger.  Rafael was furious and completely frustrated by her irrational, petulant refusal to see reason.  He was also painfully hard.  Before he lost control of his urge to bend her over the table in the middle of the room, he stepped around Frankie to the door and left without another word.  Frankie knew she wanted to throw him to the ground at that moment.  What she didn’t know was which she wanted to do first, fuck him or punch his lights out.

 [1] Literally means “strawberry”, but is Mexican and Latin American slang meaning stuck up, fake, snob, one who thinks they’re better than everyone else because they were born rich, and are well-educated.

[marril96]

The Distance Between Us

Chapter 1: Fs and Enemies and Principals, All My!

Pairing: Rowena x reader

Summary: Just when you thought high school couldn't possibly get any worse, classmate and archenemy, Rowena MacLeod, is selected to be your math tutor. As the two of you spend more time together, boundaries break and secrets get revealed. Maybe there's more to the school's mean girl than meets the eye. High School AU.

A/N: Credits to @werewolfbarbie for all the information about the American school system.

Editor: @rowenaisfabulous

You hated Rowena MacLeod.

Maybe hated was too strong a word.

Disliked.

Disfavored.

Disesteemed.

Whatever the most appropriate terminology was, the fact remained that she was your least favorite person in this school.

Okay, maybe second least favorite. Or third. There certainly were a lot of assholes at your high school.

But, god, Rowena was a special kind.

She'd never done anything to you personally. There was animosity in your interactions, but it didn't go beyond that.

She was, however, nasty to your friend. Who was her brother and was equally nasty to her in return, but still. The friend code and all.

She used your other friend. Strung him along and took advantage of him. Took his kindness for granted.

She was popular, and had gotten so in a rather… interesting way. Her way to the top consisted of sucking up to other popular kids until some felt sorry enough for her that they'd let her become one of them (or they'd given in to get her to shut up) and dating the school's biggest douchebag.

And she got an A today, one hundred percent, perfect score, and looked so damn smug you barely held back an eye-roll.

You'd gotten an F. One percent. You supposed it could have been worse — Dean Winchester, sitting a few rows down, got a zero. Yay, you!

First math test of your senior year, and you'd failed it.

Great fucking start!

Fuck it, you thought. It wasn't like this was going to matter. Those numbers, formulas no one in their right mind would remember in a few weeks' time, this stupid test — they didn't matter. Ten years from now, and no one would think of them. Life would go on as normal. All of today would be nothing but yet another blur in the foggy sea of memories. Maybe not even that.

Thinking like that didn't make you feel any better. Your stomach was still tight with pressure. Hands still balled into fists on your thighs. Teeth clenched. Heart racing.

This was only the first test, you tried telling yourself.

That, exactly, was the problem, your other, more rational (or rather pessimistic) side argued. You'd started the school year with a big, fat F. In Math, of all things. Your least favorite subject. Your worst one. The subject you'd almost failed last year, and the one before that.

If this was your big start, you were screwed.

Ms. Hanscum was a great teacher. She was kind to the students and acted more like a friend than a teacher. She helped everyone who struggled out, explained everything multiple times if necessary.

Yet you still sucked.

Math just happened to be your public enemy number one.

Ms. Hanscum could go over her lessons a thousand times. She could sit you on her lap like a toddler and hold your hand as you wrote down her instructions. She could have superpowers that made everyone she spoke to understand math. You still wouldn't get it.

You weren't generally stupid.

You were just stupid for math.

Rowena's eyes met yours for a short moment. Her mouth was wide with a smile; it would have been cute if it wasn't condescending. There was a softness to her expression, a casualness almost innocent. It didn't fool you. You knew the only reason she was looking around was to watch those less fortunate, to rub her success in.

That was what people like her did. They reveled in the others' misfortune, basked in it, breathed it in in large gulps like air. Lived off it.

You flashed her a smile of your own. Sugary sweet, the kind so obviously fake it was purposeful.

She looked away.

Good.

Let her find another target to look down at.

You were not in the mood. At all.

*****

Lunch made you feel a bit better. It wasn't so much the food (the measly pastry you were nibbling on) as it was your friends' support. As always, your tiny gang listened to every word you said and were quick to offer jokes and kind words to make it better.

It worked like magic.

Mostly.

"It's not so bad," Dean said. "I got a zero!" At that he grinned with pride only a jock like him could have in such a grade. "I never got a zero before!"

"Freshman year, English," you reminded him.

"Oh, yeah! That was wild!"

Sure was.

So was the summer school he had to go to to be allowed to pass on to his Sophomore year. Fun times!

He bragged to everyone about his brother helping him out. His younger brother, who was an eighth-grader at the time. If he wasn't a jock, that would've earned him mockery.

"Ms. Hanscum will let you make it up, right?" Sam, the aforementioned brother, asked.

He was a huge nerd. Best kid in his class like Rowena was in yours, but unlike her, he was a good person. Sweet. Kind. He always had his head buried in a book and spent an unhealthy amount of time in the library.

Thanks to his brother's popularity, other popular kids left him alone. Nobody wanted the wrath of Dean Winchester, and, by extension, the entire football team, at their back.

"I guess," you said.

Most likely. Ms. Hanscum was big on helping kids out as best as she could.

"I can help you out, if you want," Sam offered.

Your heart swelled up with gratitude. "Thanks, Sam. I'll let you know."

He was a year younger, but he was smart. Crazy smart. Too bad you and math were on horrible terms.

"Make up exams are for losers," Crowley announced, taking a drag of his cigarette.

You sighed. Expect him to offer useless commentary.

"Dude, you almost failed Sophomore year," you told him. Had it not been for Sam, he would've been held back this summer.

Crowley shrugged. "Happens to the best of us."

You quirked up an eyebrow. "So you're a loser, too?"

"I hang out with you lot, do I not?"

You flipped him the bird, while Sam and Dean rolled their eyes.

Crowley was special. He was your friend and you loved him dearly, maybe even more than the Winchester brothers. He was snarky and sarcastic, liked to push people's buttons, and considered being an annoyance a hobby. Generally, though, he was harmless. All bark and no bite. An acquired taste you'd, for reasons unknown, taken a liking to.

He was a good friend. A great friend.

He was also Rowena's brother.

The MacLeod siblings had a strange relationship. They always snarked at each other. Called each other names and acted hostile. Sometimes even got into screaming matches right in the middle of the hallway and had to be separated by teachers.

But they were also protective of each other. One time, Arthur Ketch had called Rowena a whore. Crowley, who often called her that himself, punched him in the face and got himself a week's detention. Another time, Rowena overheard Naomi Godsend telling her friends about her plan to ask Crowley out on a date as a joke and slapped the living daylights out of her once they'd stepped off school grounds.

It was weird. You didn't ask questions. Even if you did, you doubted Crowley would have any answers.

"Ass," you said.

"Bitch," Crowley retorted.

You laughed. He laughed along.

"Your sister got a hundred percent. Again," you said.

He rolled his eyes. "Figures. Bloody miss perfect."

"She kept looking at people, like, 'I'm so much better than you peasants.'" You imitated her accent in an overly exaggerated way, earning you a laugh from Dean and Crowley.

"Are you sure that's what she was doing?" Sam asked.

Way to ruin the moment.

"Why else would she be doing it?" you asked.

"Maybe she just wanted to see how others did."

"Yeah, and then point and laugh at them."

"Did she do that?" he said.

"Internally, most likely," you said.

"So she didn't."

You sighed. There was no winning this. "She's a bitch, Sam. The entire school knows that."

"The entire school doesn't know her," Sam defended.

"I live with her, Moose," Crowley cut in. "And I can say with utmost certainty she's a massive bitch."

"You think that about everyone," Sam pointed out. "Even us."

"No, I don't," Crowley said defensively. "I think she's a bigger bitch than all of you."

"Thanks so much, Crowley," you deadpanned.

"You're welcome, Y/N," he said smugly.

Sam rolled his eyes, then turned back to you. "She's not so bad."

Sure, she wasn't. "She's badder than bad," you argued. "Why are you friends with her?"

He shrugged. "She's nice."

You snorted. Crowley laughed. Dean scowled as if Sam had just admitted to stealing his porn.

"She is," Sam said defensively. "Once you get to know her."

The only reason she was hanging out with him was his connection to Dean. That was the reason she hung out with all her other "friends." Why she chased after Lucifer Shurley until he agreed to date her. Popularity. Power. It was her drug.

Rowena didn't have friends — she had accessories to use to her advantage.

But no matter how many times you and Crowley told Sam about it, your words fell on deaf ears. The younger Winchester believed in the good in her to the point where he was blind to the bad.

It was his funeral.

You'd already prepared an "I told you so" speech for when she kicked him out of her life like a useless old doll. It was bound to happen eventually.

"Whatever you say, Sam," you said, then changed the subject back to math.

It was much more interesting than Rowena MacLeod.

Much less complicated.

*****

The final ring of the bell for the day was music to your ears. You packed your bag in a hurry and ran out, trying to navigate your way out through the sea of students crowding the hallway, your thoughts already on the diner where your friends, having finished their classes an hour earlier, were waiting for you. You could already smell the food, the delicious aroma of coffee and fruity smoothies, your empty stomach grumbling with yearning.

Then the principal's voice sounded through the speakers, and all your hopes were shattered.

"Rowena MacLeod and Y/N Y/L/N, please come to the principal's office. Rowena MacLeod and Y/N Y/L/N, to the principal's office."

Shit!

What did you do know? What did he think you did? Had Rowena told him something? Had she gotten you in trouble?

The last time you were in the principal's office was a year ago, when Lucifer Shurley thought the ideal way to flirt with you was to get in your face and grab your ass.

You introduced your fist to his face.

Lucky for you, the principal, despite being the asshole's father, was understanding. Lucifer bragging about what he'd done and insisting it wasn't that big a deal probably had something to do with it. Either way, he was suspended for two weeks. You'd gotten off with a warning to just report him next time.

As if.

When had telling the teachers helped anyone other than the offender?

Sighing, you made your way to the principal's office. Snickers and whispers followed your every step. People who knew you teased. Others just watched. Most, however, were on their way out, rushing to leave the hell that was school, happy to be done with their day.

Oh, how you wished you were them.

You gave the door a soft, timid knock. Upon being called in, you opened it and stepped inside the small but tidy office. Paintings adorned the walls, along with diplomas from prestigious schools. The spacious, polished desk was riddled with pictures of the Shurley family, both joint and separate.

The principal sure liked to show off.

Principal Shurley was seated at the desk, clad in jeans and a white T-shirt. Looking more like a student than a principal. His sons must have been proud to be seen with him.

There were two chairs in front of his desk. Rowena occupied one, her bag in her lap, fingers playing with a loose piece of thread that hung from it. Her eyes threatened to raise hell, while her mouth promised heaven, scowl and smile both prominent, seemingly at war with each other. Trying to keep up appearances, but failing to.

You couldn't fault her. The last thing you wanted was to waste precious time in the principal's office while your friends waited for you.

"Take a seat," principal Shurley told you in an overly friendly manner, as if he were your friend rather than an authority figure.

You did as asked, sliding your school bag to the floor by your feet.

"Am I in trouble?" you inquired.

Rowena's eyes narrowed in suspicion as she watched you. You responded with a roll of your eyes.

"Oh, no, no," the principal said "Not at all. Neither of you are in trouble."

Something good, at least.

"Why are we here, then?" Rowena asked, trying her hardest (and failing, in your opinion) to keep her displeasure behind a wall of fake courtesy.

If principal Shurley noticed it, he didn't comment on it. Instead, he said, "I just need to talk to you guys a bit. Nothing bad, I promise."

As soon as he said that, you knew it was a lie.

Principals didn't call students to their office to chat about the weather, or the new episode of their favorite show.

They especially didn't call in students who happened to dislike each other.

You were in trouble. You weren't sure what kind, and what Rowena had to do with it, but you were sure it was nothing good.

As if this day wasn't bad enough as it was.

*****

Tags: @werewolfbarbie @oswinthestrange @songofthecagedmoose @apurdyfulmind @getthesalt-sam @metallihca @salembitchtrials @jay-eris @hellsmother @elizabeth-effie @victoriasagittariablack @rowenaswife @dropsofpetrichor @xfireandsin @liddell-alien @hotdiggitydammit @lae-lae @darkhumorsblog @gaysnakess @angel7376 @rowenaisfabulous @ruthieconnells @evil-regal-vampiress @collectorofsecretsandsouls @angel-e-v-a @melisandre02 @a-queen-and-her-throne

[sorenmarie87]

Murphy’s Law states

Summary:  Garth and Bess plan a New Year's Party with one goal in mind.

Square Filled: New Years (Genre)

Pairing(s)/Character(s): eventual Charlie x Reader. Previous Y/N x Connor (OMC). Garth x Bess  Sam and Dean.  Murphy (OFC)

Word Count: 2,107

Warning(s): Not a warning per se but everyone in this fic is a werewolf.

A/N:  This was written for @spngenrebingo .  Thank you @fictionalabyss and @coffee-obsessed-writer for all the help 💜  Unbeta’d - so all grammar mistakes are my own.  

I do not own any of the pictures I used in my aesthetic.

It was unusually warm for the end of December so you had all of your windows open.  You were hoping that fresh air would do your home some good.  November had been a rough month for you.  Not only did you lose your job of five years, you lost your mate.  Connor was in the wrong place at the wrong time, according to the detective that called you and needed you to identify the body.  At least you had help with the funeral.  Not from your fiancé’s family, but from your pack leader.  Garth was with you every step of the way.  

A gentle knock on your screen door pulled you away from your baking, and you smiled when you realized it was Garth.  He let himself in and when you turned around, you realized he was holding a tray of sandwiches, a small mixture of veggies and a pitcher of sweet tea. “The missus wanted me to bring this over and she expects you to eat everything.”

“Even the veggies?”

“Especially the veggies.”  

“How is Bess doing?  Is she going crazy from being on bed rest?”

“She loves that our pups will be here soon but she hates that she’s confined to the bed.”

Garth watched as you pulled a couple of glasses out of the lowest cabinet, and placed them on the kitchen counter.  “I know you didn’t come over just to bring me food, so what’s up?”  You picked up a sandwich, and sniffed it cautiously before taking a bite.  

“Whatcha doin’ for New Years Eve?”

“Probably nothing.”  You took another bite of your sandwich before Garth poured you a cup of tea and slid it towards you.  “Why?”

“Well Bess and I are hosting a sort of get together with one of the local packs, and we want you to come.”

“Do I have to?  You know, I haven’t really been around anyone since -”

“I know Y/N, I do, but you are a part of our pack.   I promise, it wouldn’t be a huge group of people.  You remember the Winchesters?”  You popped a cherry tomato in your mouth and nodded.  

“How many people are we talking, Garth?”  You picked up another tomato and just rolled it around in your hand before eating it.

“10 or more.”

“Garthhhhh.”  He chuckled as you threw a piece of broccoli at him.  “What's the point of going out for New Years Eve?  Even if I wanted to get drunk, I can’t…”

“Y/N, you have a perfectly good reason for not drinking.”  

“I’ll be the only sober kid at the party.”

“No you won’t.  Bess can’t drink, and I’m not drinking either.”

You snorted out a laugh.  “Are you really?”

“Yes ma’am.  You can always keep Bess company if you don’t want to talk to anyone.”

“That was my plan anyways.”  

Garth’s phone beeped, and he had to excuse himself.  “You’ll bring our dishes back later, right?”

“No, I’m gonna sell ‘em to the highest bidder on eBay.”  You rolled your eyes and grinned as he hovered in the doorway.  You walked a few steps and gave him a quick hug before pushing him out the door.  “Garth, don’t worry, I’ll bring ‘em back.  Now go, someone obviously needs you more than I do.”  

A few days later

>> Garth, what in the world am I supposed to wear tonight?  HELP ME.  

<<  Check your closet - there should be a dress and high heels in there.  << Don’t ask how they got there…  <<  Bess wants me to remind you that you’ll look beautiful in what she picked out.  Oh, and you better be wearing it when pick you up.  I'm not arguing with my pregnant wife, so just wear it, please?

>>  Fine.  What about accessories?  

<<  On your dresser. 

>>  Okay.

>> Thank you guys, I mean it.

<<  Anytime, you know that.   

--

>>  Are you guys here yet?  

>>  Because we might have a problem…

<<  What’s wrong? Does everything fit correctly?  Garth is driving so I’m answering for him.

>>  Everything fits perfectly, thank you Bess.  

>>  So I have a kitchen counter full of baked goods.

<< Y/N… << Wait, did you make pies?

>> Yeah, of course.

<< Bring everything wirh you

>> Wirh me?

<<  Shut up, Garth hit a bump.. 

>>  Are you guys - no wait, I think someone is knocking at the door.

<< Yeah, that’s Garth.  

<< He’s gonna help carry everything, because you shouldn’t be carrying anything.

>>  Okay mom, sheesh.  

>> I’ll be out in a second…

<< We’ll have fun tonight, I promise.

--

“Here you go ladies.”  The conversation with Bess pauses for a split second as the bubbly red-head sets down a drink in front of each of you.

“Is there alcohol in this?”  You reach for the glass in front of you and cautiously sniff at it.  

“I was told by your pack leader, who is the sweetest guy by the way, that you two weren’t drinking tonight and we didn’t want you to feel left out.   I promise you, there is not a drop of alcohol in there.”  Charlie watches as you cautiously take a sip and sighed.  “Good, right?”

“This is fantastic.  Bess, you need to try this.”  You pushed the other glass towards her with a grin.  Bess raised an eyebrow at the glass before picking it up to take a sip.    

“Oh, that is nice.  What’s in this, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Cucumber, coconut water, lime juice and mint.”  You finish off your drink and Charlie asks if you’d like a refill.  You nod with a shy smile on your face.  She promises she’ll be right back.

“Somebody likes youuu.”  You roll your eyes at Bess’s teasing.  

“No, she’s just being polite.  Unless you guys are tryin’ to set me up again.”

“I can neither confirm or deny anything.”

You smiled sadly and glance over at the bar where she was mixing up your drink.  “She seems like a sweet girl, and I’d be happy to have her as a friend.”

Bess took another sip of her drink and sets it on the stand sitting beside her.  “There’s an unspoken but there, what’s wrong?”

“I didn’t even introduce myself.”  You grab a pillow from the couch and place it over your face.  “Oh my god Bess, I don’t even know her name…”

“Charlie.”  You slowly lower the pillow and your face turns bright red as she stands behind the couch.  “Charlie Bradbury, it’s nice to meet you… ”  You keep your eyes on Charlie as she hands you your drink, and moves around the couch to take a seat next to you

“I’m Y/N L/N and that’s Bess Fitzgerald, our pack leader’s wife.”  

“It’s nice to meet the both of you.”

--

“I can promise you that she doesn’t bite.  I mean, she might, if you’re into that sort of thing.”  You heard him chuckle and then turned around to get a good look at who was talking to you.  He was standing with a bottle of beer in one hand and a plate filled with deserts in the other.  “You mind if I sit next to you?”

“Sure, go ahead.”  You quietly chuckle and take a sip of your newest drink.  

“Are you actually enjoying those things?” He gestured to your glass and you smiled.  

“They aren’t that bad.  This one is just 7-up and pineapple juice with sherbet.  It’s pretty good actually.”  

The two of you chatted and occasionally, Dean would go silent from eating something.  You smiled at the small noises he would make.  “I wanna meet whoever made this pie.  It’s the best thing I’ve had all night.”

“You don’t have to look that far.”  

“No way, you?”

“I made everything you have on that plate.  I tend to bake when I’m nervous…”

“Garth mentioned something like that.  You must be Y/N, then?”

“In the flesh, and you are..?”

“I’m Dean Winchester.”  

“So Dean, between you and Garth, who’s idea was it to set me and Charlie up?”  Dean was about to answer when Garth started shouting your name over and over from across the room.  You rolled your eyes and cupped your hands over your mouth to shout back at him.  “What do you want?”

“Come play Cards Against Humanity with us!!”

“I’ll be right there.”  Dean chuckled beside you.  “You owe me an answer, Winchester.”

“It was Garth actually.”  Dean brushed the crumbs off of his shirt as he stood up.  “He’s been worried about you.”

“It hasn’t been easy, I’ll admit but Garth and Bess made it easier.  I’m not ready to date, and I don’t know when I’ll be ready to again, but I want to get to know Charlie.”

“You can always start tonight.”  Dean nudged his head towards the table where everyone was waiting for the game to start.  He grinned as he watched you walk across the room and take the empty seat next to Charlie. 

--

It was getting closer and closer to midnight, and every time you tried to talk to Charlie, someone would interrupt the two of you. 

“Who did I piss off tonight?”  You mumbled to yourself as another drink was placed in front of you.  You gave a quiet thanks and sighed to yourself as the waitress walked away.  “You’d give me so much shit for this Connor, I know you would.  I love you, and I miss you but all I’m asking for is one uninterrupted conversation with her.  Is that asking too much?  Connor, you wanna help me out here?  You know what, I know exactly how you’d respond to that, so never mind.”  You took a nervous sip of your drink when you felt someone tapping on your shoulder.

“Am I interrupting?”  

“Of course not, I mean… I was just talking to myself.”

“I hope the conversation was good at least.”  You snorted into your drink and when you heard Charlie laughing,  you made eye contact with her.  “What, it’s a legitimate statement.”

“My fiancé said something similar to that when we first met.  Only I was ranting about something work related that pissed me off… You should’ve seen his face.”

“You ramble when you’re nervous, don’t you?”  You nodded your head and watched as she brushed a strand of hair behind her ear.  “It’s cute.  You’re cute, but Y/N?  You don’t have to be nervous around me.”

10

9

8

“Well, I know that now.”  And for the first time that night, you genuinely smiled.

7

6

5

More and more people were making their way outside to watch the fireworks that were set to go off at midnight, and you were relieved.  More bodies meant you wouldn’t do something stupid.  

4

3

2

Other couples were kissing at this point, and your face flushed.  It wasn’t until someone bumped into you hard, and sent you forward that you realized your lips were pressed against Charlie’s.  The two of you pulled apart and started laughing at what happened.  “I’d like to try that for real one day.”

“Yeah, me too.”

“It’s a date then.”  Charlie winked as she softly kissed your lips again and grabbed a hold of your hand.  

1

“Happy New Year!!”  

--

“So you’re telling me, that your first kiss with mom was a complete fluke?”  Murphy looked up at you when you finished braiding her hair. 

“Not a fluke, just a happy accident.”  

Murphy turned around in your lap and grinned at you.  “I know that’s how you met mom, but what brought you two together?”

“That my child is a story for another time.”  You hopped her on the nose and watched as she stood up and made her way over to her bed.  Murphy pulled the sheet over her body and yawned.  

“Mommy?”

“Yes dear?”

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Murphy.  Good night, baby.”  You kissed her on the forehead before flicking on her night light and leaving the door open a crack before exiting her room.  

You made your way downstairs towards the kitchen and you lingered in the doorway.  Charlie was quietly humming along with radio as she frosted yet another cupcake.  “Need some help?”

“Nah, I’m almost done.  Our baby is turning 8 tomorrow.   Where’d the time go?”

“That’s a fantastic question but I don’t have an answer.”  

"You wanna watch a movie before bed?  We can always multitask..”  Charlie waggled her eyebrows and you giggled quietly. 

“We have gift bags to put together missy.”  You paused with a smile tugging at the corner of your lips.  “But we can always work on those in the morning..”  You walked around the island to kiss Charlie on the cheek and darted out of the room with Charlie chasing after you.

--

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