#it doesn’t matter that dean never actually said it

[sammy-the-boyking]

sometimes i remember the fact that sam literally never knew the voicemail from dean in s4 wasn’t real and i wanna scream a little bit

[wigglebox]

Supernatural September - Day 4 | Glitch

Canonically, Dean never said Cas’ name after the fake phone call in 15.19. Canonically, while Bobby said Cas “Helped” revamp Heaven into a Heaven that Dean “deserved,” Cas never showed up. Canonically, Dean left that heaven, which contained his family, to go “find family.”

There is a glitch that is Cas-shaped, and Dean knows it.

[superabnormal]

LRT GOT ME BLOCKED LOL

[rubyvhs]

୨ৎ your camera roll when you start dating dean winchester

So many dates. Dean can’t believe you even said yes to being with him. You want to spend your time with him? Willingly? It’s a fever dream. And so every single case the only thing he talks about is how after it’s done you and him are going to the cool diner you passed on the way, and you need to try the pie, or that you’re both definitely gonna try fishing in the lake. Or on the nights when you’re both so incredibly exhausted from all the dying and running so you decide to go for a drive. Dean thinks those are his favorite. The both of you in the car with Zeppelin on blast, sometimes your girly music too, and he tells you how much he loves you. He stops the both of you at a random spot, thinks you’ll both be there for a second but a kiss through the window turns to more and you’re there for hours. He tells you to delete the picture later, says no one needs to find him kissing you on your phone but when you decline once he doesn’t argue. He wants you happy and you’re happiest when you’re capturing him in his element. Whether it be him eating, fishing, or kissing you in Baby and being your boyfriend— because he’s damn good at that, no matter his own thoughts about it.

You decide hunting can’t be your entire life if you’re going to spend it together but you hate to admit how scared you are to tell Dean that so you start in slow steps. You pick up less cases and Sam doesn’t care, he’s always out with his new girlfriend anyway, sometimes hunts with her. You use one of Bobby’s cabins for a two day vacation with Dean. It’s hardly anything, no beach or big city, just the forest but you think it’s just as beautiful. You think Dean’s beautiful. He’s just talking to you, gambling with his life while he sits in the thin ledge and you let him because if Hell couldn’t bring him down, a ledge can’t even try. He’s happy. He’s telling you about why he thinks Back to California beats Stairway to Heaven and you’re not sure you’re listening. He groans when he sees you snapping a picture. The next day, the last day, of your vacation you’re both at a bar type of place. You’re not sure what it is but it’s cozy enough that you choose a booth to take your heels off in and when they start announcing that tonight’s all about the crowd, you bite your lip in anticipation. Dean’s always been shy when it comes to his singing but you know he’s good, he’s talented for someone who’s never once been to a lesson. You all but beg him to go up there and he stares at you throughout the entire song. You’re both leaving to get back to the bunker when it starts raining. You thought you’d use it as an excuse to stay longer but as you’re both leaving you notice that dean’s not mentioned hunting once. He doesn’t care. For once, you believe you might actually have a chance at getting him out of the life and snap a picture in the rain to send the news to Sam. He thinks you’re crazy. Crazy enough to actually do it.

part one :: yes this is now a series, last one coming out in a week<3 and im making another series for sam, you’re the ‘gf’ for him mentioned in this one.

[queen-of-deans-booty]

Across Every Universe

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Word Count: ~2.1k

Warnings: fluff

Request by anon: Hey Jordan, can i request something where Dean Winchester always have a crush on the reader but never said something to her until one day Sam and Dean are transported (based on the episode French Mistake) and Dean actor Jensen and is married to the reader of the universe and she pass the whole day giving Dean hug and kisses because for everyone is Jensen. When Dean and Sam came back to their universe him and the reader start dating? Fluff 

Summary: Sam and Dean are taken back to the same place where Dean is known as Jensen Ackles and Sam as Jared Padalecki. This little trip makes Dean realize his feelings for you.

Square Filled: "god, if only you knew what you did to me" (2023) for @spnaubingo

Author’s Note: any and all comments are appreciated <3

x

No matter the position you’re in, you’re not comfortable. It doesn’t matter if you lie down on your side, your back, or your stomach. Not to mention the heater isn’t working in the Bunker so it’s very cold. You have three blankets over you while wearing long sleeves and pajama pants. The broken heater doesn’t help your running cold either. You’re not sure where you caught it from but you’ve been trying to stay away from the brothers to not get them sick.

That doesn’t keep Dean away, though.

He’s a complete sweetheart to you since he always brings you soup, makes sure you’re comfortable, and spends time with you even if you tell him not to go near you. You don’t know what you’d do without Dean in your life.

Speaking of, he knocks on your door and enters wearing his usual hunting attire.

“Going on a hunt?” you ask and sit up slightly.

“Yeah. I wish I could stay here and take care of you.”

“Other people need you,” you smile. “I’ll be fine. I’m going to stay in bed, watch movies, and make some soup later. Did you fix the heater, yet?”

“I have someone coming in a few days. He’s also on a hunt.”

“Right, no non-hunters here,” you chuckle.

“I’ll call you later and check up on you, okay?”

“My hero.”

You cuddle with your blankets more and Dean leaves your room with a slight blush on his cheeks. Before he closes the door, he looks back at you in thought. God, if only you knew what you did to me.

He closes your door and meets his brother in the library. As soon as they are packed and ready to go, they start the long drive to the next state over. When Dean gets onto the highway, Sam turns to Dean with a knowing smile.

“So, did you tell her how you feel?”

“Stay out of it, Sammy,” Dean rolls his eyes.

“How long have you had a thing for her? Years? When are you going to tell her how you feel?”

“I mean it, Sam. Stay out of it. I can handle it on my own.”

��Apparently not, or else she’d be yours.”

Dean punches his brother not gently in the arm and Sam laughs. Dean kept the music high so he could avoid talking about his feelings for you. They get to the town that has its residents sacrificing themselves in the name of God. If anything, it warrants some kind of visit from the Winchesters.

The town looks like a normal town with normal people just trying to live their normal lives. They have no suspicions that something is happening but they only just arrived. They get there late at night so they will have to do their work tomorrow morning. Dean takes out his phone when his brother goes into the bathroom to shower and calls you.

“Hey, how are you feeling?”

“I’m doing alright but not any better.”

“Did you take your medicine?”

“Yes, I did.” He can hear the smile in your voice and that makes him smile. “And I ate my soup and drank water.”

“Don’t forget to tell her goodnight,” Sam says loudly from the bathroom.

Dean grabs a pillow and chucks it at his brother. “Go take a shower. You stink.”

“Goodnight, Dean,” you chuckle, having heard Sam.

“Night sweetheart.” He hangs up and turns to his brother with a scowl. “I hate you.”

Sam and Dean actually get more than four hours of sleep that night but when Dean wakes up, he doesn’t recognize his surroundings. The motel is gone, the shutty beds and blankets are gone, and the peeling wallpaper is gone. What replaces it is a nice trailer, a comfortable bed, a big aquarium, and other nice shit that Dean has never had.

“Sammy?” he calls out. He gets up and leaves the small trailer only to run into Sam. “What the hell is going on? Where are we?”

“I don’t know.” Sam looks around and spots a name on the side of the trailer that’s behind Dean. “Oh, no. Look.”

Dean turns and sees the name ‘Jensen Ackles’ on the side. He turns back around and sees ‘Jared Padalecki’ on the trailer opposite his.

“You’ve got to be kidding me? We’re back in actor land? What happened last time?”

“Gabriel sent us here to avoid Raphael and his minions. I have no idea how we ended up here.”

“I bet it has something to do with the fact that people were sacrificing themselves in the name of God. My guess is that angels are involved.”

“There you two are.” Sam and Dean turn to see Castiel--Misha--walking toward them. “They’re looking for you two.”

“Yeah, we’re coming.”

If Sam and Dean didn’t do a good job trying to act last time, then they certainly aren’t going to do a good job now. It’s funny in hindsight but it makes for a very long day of filming. After the twentieth time messing up, Dean is ready to get the hell out of there to figure out how to get back to his world.

He looks to the right and sees you at the snack bar. He immediately calls for a time-out and leaves the set.

“Time out?” the director frowns and looks at him. “Everyone, take ten!”

“Y/N?”

“Come here, you have to try this. Gen made it,” you grin at Dean. You take a scoopful of food and present it to him. He opens his mouth and accepts the food, pleasantly surprised by the taste. “Oh, you have something on your mouth.” You wipe his bottom lip with your thumb and lick the food off. Dean is so confused about your behavior but doesn’t have time to figure it out. Your phone rings and you check who is messaging you. “I gotta go. Gen is here.”

You lean up and kiss him quickly before walking off. Dean can’t move after that quick kiss. You did it so casually like you’ve done it a thousand times. He is forced to go back to acting but he can’t do a good job because all he’s thinking about is your lips on his.

They aren’t getting enough filming done so the director calls it for the rest of the day. Sam and Dean convene outside to make it look like they’re busy so no one else talks to them.

“She kissed me, dude.”

“What?”

“Y/N or the woman who she’s supposed to be. She kissed me like we’re together or something.”

“Look, I’m glad you’re going through the five stages of teenage excitement but can we focus here? How are we going to get out of here?”

Dean looks around and spots you entering his trailer.

“Eh, you’ll figure it out. I’ll be back.”

Dean leaves to his trailer and Sam rolls his eyes in annoyance.

“Dean!” he hisses but receives no answer.

Dean enters his counterpart’s trailer and sees you where the bed is. You’re grabbing some night clothes out of the drawers since you’re not going to be leaving the trailer for the rest of the night.

“Hey, I talked to Gen about the cabin and she got it all set up for us this weekend. I’m so excited to spend some time away from all this for two days.”

“Are we dating?” The comment makes you laugh. “What?”

“Are you okay?” He looks kind of nervous so you walk over to him and wrap your arms around his neck. “I don’t know what’s going on with you but I do know how to make you feel better.”

“How?” he whispers.

You run your hands down his chest and take his hands. You take him to the bed and toss your night clothes onto a nearby chair. You fall onto the bed while pulling him so he lands on top of you but he stops himself with his hands so he doesn’t completely crush you.

You pull him down to kiss you and that’s enough to bring Dean into the delusion that you’re Y/N and you’re his. Your lips are softer than what he thought and your body fits so perfectly against his. He slips his tongue into your mouth to get familiar with you. You tug on his hair to get some traction so he pulls away from your mouth and kisses down your neck.

Your neck has always been a sensitive spot for you and he really knows how to work you up. He licks up and down your neck before latching onto the side of it. You gasp, tilt your head back, and moan something that brings Dean back down to reality.

“Jensen.” You’re not his. You’re not you. You’re Jensen’s. You’re not supposed to be with him. He pulls away and pants above you. “What’s wrong?”

“Can we just lay here instead?”

“Yeah, of course. Let me get changed.”

You slip out from underneath him and grab the pajamas you set aside earlier. You strip down naked and Dean has a hard time not looking at you. He can’t help but think you’re a complete stranger. The pajamas you’re wearing are revealing but he feels better at looking at you with clothes on. You climb into bed with him and cuddle into his side, and he tucks a strand of your hair behind your head.

“How did I get so lucky?”

“I’m the lucky one.”

“Tell me the story of how we met.” You look at him in confusion. “I want to hear it from you.”

“Okay, I got tickets to a red carpet event that my ex-friend invited me to. We were going to see the movie My Bloody Valentine because we thought it was going to be the next big movie. The entire cast was there, including you, meeting fans and taking pictures with them. When we locked eyes, it was like something was pulling you to me.

“You came over to me, complimented me on my dress, signed my poster with your number on it which I still have, and the rest is history. I never got together with you because you were a big celebrity. You were genuine, kind, funny, charming, and very sexy. It was hard not to fall in love with you.”

Dean notices the big ring on your finger and puts the pieces together.

“We’re married?”

“Yes, we are,” you laugh. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just… really happy.”

You lean over and kiss him. The next morning, Dean leaves his trailer before you get up. He doesn’t want to wake you even though he wants to. He finds Sam outside his own trailer with a book in his hands.

“Hey,” Dean sighs.

“I might have found a way out of here, no thanks to you.”

“What if we didn’t leave?”

“Are you kidding me?”

“The love of my life is my wife here.”

“That’s not your wife, Dean. She’s Jensen’s wife. She thinks you’re him. Why would you take that away from him? You have a girl waiting for you at home, a girl with whom you’re too scared to do anything about. Don’t take her away from him because you want what they have.”

Dean knows he’s right. He can’t stay here. He’s using this world as an escape from his own.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Dean sighs. “What do you have?”

“I found this book in the prop section. This might be a TV show but it does have some useful books to make it look real. There’s a ritual we can do.”

And a ritual it is. Once they get the stuff needed and perform it, they are brought back to the town they arrived in a couple of days ago. In order to properly tackle this town, they’re going to need some angelic help. Maybe Castiel can meet them back at the Bunker and figure something out then.

The first thing Dean does when he gets home is go looking for you. You’re still stuck in bed watching your favorite movies on Disney+. You pause your movie when your bedroom door opens.

“Hey, how was the hunt?” Dean doesn’t say anything as he kicks off his shoes. He climbs into bed with you and pulls you close to him. “Dean?”

“I love you,” he blurts. “I should have told you this years ago but I can’t seem to think straight when I’m with you. You make everything better for me, and you’re a better hunter than I ever was. God, I love you so much.”

“I’d kiss you but I don’t want to get you sick,” you smile.

“I don’t care,” he whispers and kisses you.

This is where he belongs. Right next to you.

x

Follow my library blog @aqueenslibrary​​​​​​​​​​​​ where I reblog all my stories, so you can put notifications on there without the extra stuff :)

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Pointless Protection

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by Anonymous (x2)

Synopsis: Gordon kidnaps you in 3x07, and you have your first asthma attack

“No sign of Gordon anywhere, and the sun’s going down soon.” Dean caught Sam up on his fruitless search, but Dean seemed distracted.

“He’ll be unstoppable,” Sam said.

“Yeah.” Dean wasn’t looking at Sam as he grabbed his bag and one of his guns. “You two stay here.”

“What?” Your head shot up from where you were sitting, but Sam beat you to the questioning.

“What are you talking about? Where are you going?”

“After Gordon.”

“Not alone you’re not,” Sam argued.

“Sam, he’s after you, not me, and I want both of you out of harm’s way,” Dean said.

“You—“ Sam cut himself off, gritting his teeth. “Y/N, go take a walk.”

“What?” You demanded. You knew instantly what this was about—Dean had been getting more and more reckless ever since his hell deal, and both brothers refused to talk about it with you around, like the topic of hell was too much for you to handle, even though your brother was going there in a matter of months. “No way, I—“

“Go,” Dean snapped.

“But—“

“C’mon.” Dean was already pushing you to the door. “Grown-up fight, come back later.”

“You can’t just—“

The door slammed in your face before you could finish.

…

You were fuming as you stomped away from the motel room and away from the parking lot. The chilly air bit into your skin as the sun sunk lower towards the horizon, but you barely even noticed.

Why did your brothers have to keep doing that? Keeping you from the important conversations, as if they didn’t affect you. You had so much you wanted to say to Dean; you wanted to tell him you hated how reckless he had become, you hated that he didn’t seem to care whether he lived or died because you cared.

But you never got the chance. It was like they didn’t trust you with the real stuff, as if they could keep you from this world and it’s dangers even though you were in it up to you neck—

Your racing thoughts were so distracting that you barely noticed it was getting dark until the sun was already disappearing and a cloak of darkness was thrown over the land.

“Oh no,” you mumbled, turning around instantly and rushing for the motel. If it was dark, that meant Gordon could be out. If Gordon was out…

You had to get ti the motel before he got to you.

…

“Fine,” Dean grumbled at last. “We’ll wait the night out in here, and go after Gordon together.” They’d been burning sage in the room all day so Gordon couldn’t track their scent.

“Good.” Sam huffed. “Now let’s get—“ Sam barely cracked the door open before he realized the problem. “Dean, it’s dark out.”

“What?!” Dean jumped up. “Y/N’s still in the parking lot, right?”

“I-I don’t—“ Sam took another step out the door, glancing around frantically. “Y/N!” He called out into the night air, but he got no reply. Before he could yell again, Dean’s phone rang.

“You’ve had that phone all of two hours, Dean,” Sam said. They’d gotten new phones when they’d realized that Gordon could track the old ones. “Who’d you give the number to?” he asked.

“Nobody.” Dean frowned. “Maybe it’s Y/N.” He flipped the phone open and put it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Hey there, Dean,” Gordon, sounding much too happy, greeted.

“How did you get this number?” Dean snapped.

“Your scent’s all over the phone store,” Gordon explained. “But I lost the scent. It doesn’t matter though—you’re going to find me.”

“Right,” Dean scoffed. “If this is all you’ve got, I’ve got better things to do.” Dean was about to hang up, but he stopped when Gordon spoke again.

“Actually that’s not all I have.” There was a moment of rustling on the other end of the phone.

“Dean?”

A shudder went through Dean’s body at the sound of your terrified voice.

“Y/N?”

“Dean—I’m sorry De, he came out of nowhere. Don’t do what he wants, I’m—“

“Ok that’s enough.” Gordon’s voice cut off yours, but Dean could hear you crying and protesting in the background.

“Gordon—“ Dean gritted his teeth, trying to tamp down his fury. “This isn’t about her, leave her alone.”

Gordon was unfazed. “Factory on Riverside off the turnpike. Be here in twenty minutes, or your sister dies.”

“Don’t—“ Dean’s voice was cut off by the click of the phone. He didn’t waste a second, turning immediately to Sam. “Gordon has her. We have to go.”

…

“Why won’t you just shut up?” Gordon growled. He was pacing like a caged animal, rubbing his head as if that would help that fact that he���d been turned into a supernatural creature that could hear everything within a mile radius and was blinded by moonlight.

“Just let me go,” you pleaded. You’d struggled against the ropes that bound you, but all you got for it was bloody wrists. “Sam isn’t what you think he is, you don’t have to do this!”

“Shut up!” He snapped. “Your brother is a monster, and now thanks to this chase, I am too!”

“You don’t have to do this,” you repeated.

“Aren’t you listening?” He barked. “I’m not a Hunter anymore, I’m a vampire!”

“Being a monster isn’t about what you are,” you snapped, somehow finding enough bravery inside you to speak what you’d been thinking ever since you found out about Sam’s demon blood. “It’s about what you do!”

Your speech didn’t matter; Gordon wasn’t listening anymore. His head was tilted slightly, like he was trying to pick up on a faraway sound.

“Your big brothers are here to save you,” he said, reaching forwards and tying a gag around your mouth. “I’m sure this will end with all of you dead—you Winchesters seem like the type to go out together. Just remember this; I did try to warn you about Sam.”

You couldn’t say anything in response, so you just had to watch as Gordon stalked around, prepared to kill your brothers the moment they came in to save you.

…

“Gordon!” Dean’s machete was clenched tightly in his fist as he stepped into the darkened warehouse. “We’re here, now let her go!”

“I can’t do that, Dean.” Gordon’s voice echoed around the steel walls, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. “Not until Sammy’s dead.”

“Dean!” Sam’s voice grabbed Dean’s attention. “She’s over here!”

Dean rushed to his brother, getting there in time to see Sam pull your gag down and start untying the ropes that held your blood-soaked wrists in a vice grip. Seeing the blood drip down your hands set Dean’s teeth on edge, and he wanted nothing more than to rip Gordon’s head off.

Barely had the violent thought crossed Dean’s mind before Gordon came out of nowhere, tackling Sam to the ground before he could finish freeing you.

“Sam!” You whimpered, struggling against your bonds.

Dean jumped into the fray, knocking Gordon off his little brother but missing when he swung with the machete.

“De—“ you tried to call out for your big brother, but your breath caught on the word, and you found yourself gasping for air that wouldn’t come. Your chest felt tight, and each micro breath was less satisfying than the one before it. Sam locked eyes with you for a split second, and seemed to notice your struggling, but he was quickly distracted when Gordon managed to knock Dean away and went after Sam again.

You focused your energy back on the ropes binding you—Sam had managed to loosen one arm—and with a painful jerk, you were free. However, you’d been leaning hard against the ropes, so when your arm came free you nearly fell out of the chair, the still-tight rope on your other arm keeping you painfully still.

You tried to untie your left hand, but your fingers couldn’t get a good grip on the rope, and your vision was starting to go foggy as your battle for breath continued to fail.

You kept hearing grunts of exertion and pain from the other side of the room, but it was too dark to see and the sounds seemed to all blend together, so you had no idea who was winning the fight.

What was worse than the sounds of the fight was the silence when they stopped. The only sound you heard was the echoing rattle of your breaths.

“Hey—“ you nearly screamed when a face appeared in front of you, but all you did was let out a whimper as you blinked and realized it was Dean. “It’s ok, just breathe. We’re getting you out of here, kid.”

“I ca…I can’t…” the words could barely escape as you struggled for each breath.

“Ok, hey it’s ok,” Dean soothed. “We’ll get you to a hospital, ok? They’re gonna help you breathe, you’re gonna be just fine.”

“Gordon’s dead.” Sam was suddenly at your other side, untying your hand. “You don’t have to worry about him anymore.”

Sam lifted you into his arms without bothering to see if you could stand, and Dean followed behind as Sam carried you to the Impala.

“Her wrists are pretty bad,” Sam said as Dean started up the Impala. Sam was sitting with you in the back—something he never did—and assessing your injuries. “Those ropes were really tight. I’m gonna have to clean them up before we get to the hospital, I don’t want them asking questions we can’t answer.”

You continued to wheeze and tremble as Sam painstakingly cleaned your wrists and wrapped them in bandages.

“Here,” he said, wrapping you up in his jacket and making sure the sleeves hung down so the bandages were hidden. “You’re gonna be ok, just keep breathing.”

“We’re almost there,” Dean promised. “We’re almost there.”

…

“Does she have any allergies.”

“What? No.” Dean was getting incredibly impatient with the doctor as you continued to struggle for breath beside him. They’d made sure you weren’t being turned into a vampire already, so they figured whatever was happening to you had to be physical, not supernatural. “Would you just help her?”

“I’m trying,” the doctor assured him patiently. “But I need to know what brought this on.”

“I…she was—she—“ Dean couldn’t think of a good explanation, so Sam jumped in.

“She was scared,” Sam said. “Having a nightmare.”

“I see.” The doctor pursed her lips. “Does she have asthma.”

“No, she—“ Dean stopped short. “I don’t—I don’t think so. I mean she gets out of breath pretty quickly when she exercises, but I never thought—“

“It’s possible for the symptoms to be mild for years,” the doctor told him, then turned to you. “Does your chest feel tight right now?”

You nodded.

“And does the same thing happen when you run?”

“Not—“ you wheezed. “Never this bad.”

“Ok, ok.” The doctor turned her back on the trio of siblings and picked up an inhaler from off the table. “I thought it might be this, so if you’re sure it isn’t any allergy, this should help you quickly.” She shook up the inhaler as she neared you. “Now, once I spray this I want you to hold your breath for a few seconds, try to breathe in, and then breathe out if you can. Alright?”

You didn’t feel up to trying to talk, so you just nodded.

“Ok, good. Close your mouth around this,” she said, holding the mouthpiece to your lips. She pressed the canister down, and you followed her instructions, holding your breath before breathing in and out.

“Better?” Dean asked, seeming to hold his own breath.

“It’ll take a few minutes,” the doctor said. “Just give her some space and we’ll see if she starts to feel better.”

Sure enough, in a few minutes your chest began to feel lighter and more open, and your breathing was easier.

“Better?” The word came out of Dean like a sigh of relief, because he could already see how much easier your breathing was. You knew he was still worried that Gordon had done something to you, so asthma was a relief.

“Better,” you told him.

“Ok.” The doctor nodded. “You’ll need to get her an inhaler if she ever has another asthma attack or difficulty breathing.” She handed a prescription to Dean, who held tightly to it like it was a lifeline.

“So we can go?” Sam asked.

“Yes. She’ll probably be tired for another few hours, even days, so pay attention and give her another dose with the inhaler if she needs it.”

“Thanks,” Dean said briskly, grabbing your hand and leading you out.”

The three of you managed to slip out the back door before anyone could catch you and ask about paperwork. Dean went to the office next door to get your inhaler, and when he returned to the Impala he tore the small bag open and tucked the inhaler into his jacket pocket.

“Isn’t that for me?” You demanded.

“Are you kidding?” Dean scoffed. “You’d lose it. I’ll keep it safe for you. Just let me know if you need it, ok?”

“Fine,” you huffed, and Dean rolled his eyes. The inside of the car was quiet for a few minutes as Dean drove away from the hospital, but eventually he spoke up again.

“You really scared us there, kid.”

“That’s what you get for kicking me out of the motel room,” you grumbled.

Dean opened his mouth, then snapped it shut.

“I’m in this life,” you pushed on. “I’ve always been in it. You can’t protect me from everything.”

“Yes I can,” Dean snapped.

“No you can’t,” you insisted. “You can’t protect me from you going to hell. Don’t act like that doesn’t affect me too, Dean. It does.”

The car fell into silence again, and you thought Dean was ignoring you.

“Ok,” Dean said. “I won’t kick you out next time. But don’t think that means I won’t keep protecting you. And when—“ Dean cleared his throat. “And when I’m gone, that’s gonna be Sammy’s job. So don’t give him this much attitude about it, ok?”

You forced yourself to smile, hoping it would veil the sadness in your eyes.

“It’s a deal.”

Taglist:

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[jenanigans1207]

1/7/25: Petty

“Dude,” Sam says to Dean one night when they’re sitting in the library pouring over some boring ass books that haven’t helped them even a little bit up until this point. “What the hell’d you do to Cas?”

“Who says I did anything to him?” Dean asks without glancing up. “Dude’s weird, it’s probably nothing.”

A hand appears on the page that Dean was pretending to read, and it takes him a second to even realize it’s happened, blinking his attention back to the moment and glaring at Sam as he reaches out to smack the offending hand. Sam snatches his hand back before Dean makes contact, but the effect was successful because Sam now has Dean’s full attention.

“He’s taking everything I say so literally.” Sam explains, pausing as if he’s waiting for Dean to add something. When Dean doesn’t, he presses on. “We’ve known the guy for twelve years and even when he was his most angelic, he didn’t do this.”

“Sure he did.” Dean argued, the phrase no, he’s not on any flatbread circling around in his head.

But Sam shakes his head, a few long pieces falling into his eyes. “That was different. He didn’t know then. He’s doing it on purpose now.”

Dean sighs and scrubs a hand across his face. “He’s doing it to be a petty bastard.” He says finally. “On our last hunt I yelled at him because he never fucking listens or does what I ask him to do, which is how he got hurt. So now—”

“He’s taking everything said to him literally and acting it out exactly as he’s told to.” Sam fills in the blank.

“Yeah.” Dean says. “I was trying to ignore him hoping that he’d stop, but he only seems to be doubling down on being an ass about the whole thing.”

To Dean’s surprise, the only response Sam has to the whole situation is to burst out in laughter. It’s the kind of head thrown back, belly laugh that Dean hasn’t heard Sam do in years. It was the kind of laugh he cherished, because he used to get it so infrequently that he had to commit every second of it to memory. And even though Sam laughs more easily now, he still rarely laughs with this kind of unbridled joy— for a moment it makes Dean entirely forget about Cas and his petty revenge. Despite himself and despite the situation, Dean finds himself grinning a little too, just happy to see his brother happy.

“You really met your match,” Sam finally manages to choke out, still smiling in a way that’s happy but definitely verging on shit-eating. “For every pain in the ass thing you do, he returns the favor.”

“It’s not funny,” Dean grumbles, leaning back in his chair. He wants to take a swig of his beer but it’s empty and he doesn’t feel like getting up. “He needs to be more careful!”

Sam settles more comfortably in his own chair then and it’s the slant of his shoulders that tells Dean he should’ve gotten up to get the next beer because he’ll need it for whatever Sam is about to say. “Have you just tried telling him that you’re worried about him? And that it matters to you that he stays safe?”

There’s a lot of deflections and defenses that jump to the tip of Dean’s tongue, but he bites back on them. He’s been trying to be better to be at least a little more honest— with himself, Sam, and Cas. Nobody else was yet included in that honesty, but he figured he’d get there someday. So he swallows the immediate words he wants to say and glances down at the table.

“He should know.” He answers instead which isn’t much but it’s better and more vulnerable than anything else he would’ve said. At least it implies admission that Sam’s right about his true reason for being upset.

“I’m sure he does.” Sam agrees and there’s a sincerity in his voice that does actually comfort Dean a little. “But knowing it deep down and hearing it are different.” Sam explains, pausing before adding, “You know he loves you, but it’s still nice to hear, isn’t it?”

And goddamn it all, Sam has a point that Dean can’t even begin to deny. Because he does know that Cas loves him, knows it to the core of his very bones. But if Cas were to just stop saying it out loud, were to stop reminding him of just how much he’s loved, it would be hard for Dean. He wouldn’t doubt that love, but he would still struggle with it.

Dean groans and pushes back from the table, mumbling an affectionate and exasperated “bitch” under his breath as he leaves the room. He doesn’t have to travel far to find Cas, situated in the bathroom preparing to shave. Cas glances up when he walks in the door, their eyes meeting in the mirror. Cas’s hand stills where they were unrolling a towel over the sink in front of him.

“I’m so hard on you because I’m worried,” Dean blurts before he has the chance to lose his nerve. “I’m terrified of losing you and it scares the shit out of me when you get hurt on our hunts.” Cas’s eyes have gone impossibly wide in his reflection, but he doesn’t interrupt. “I don’t mean to be an ass, I just— I can’t lose you, Cas. You mean too damn much to me.”

“Dean,” Cas breathes, turning to face him properly.

“So there you go,” Dean scuffs the toe of his boot on the ground. “You can stop being a petty bitch now.”

Cas smiles as he steps up to Dean, reaching out to cup his elbow gently in a warm hand. “Thank you for telling me.”

“You knew, right?” Dean confirms.

“I knew,” Cas answers. “I couldn’t have been so petty if I had thought you were serious.”

“You’re such an ass.”

[itshelfiredean]

Being Dean Winchester’s Daughter Would Include

1.) Dean teaching you how to drive in the impala, but he’s scared that either of his babies would get hurt so he would make up any excuse for you never to get behind a wheel. This of course ended with Dean catching you and Sam in a driving lesson and you both got yelled at for hours.

2.) Ever since you were in pigtails, Dean would always call you nicknames like “Kiddo”, “Rugrat”, or “Princess”. Your Uncle Sam would keep it rather traditional with “Sweetheart”,“Honey”, or your least favorite “Lil’ Dean”.

3.) Your dad and uncle would make lasting friendships through the years, but would hide them from you because they know that if you get attached, then it’ll break your little heart if they died.

4.) Dean taught you his music taste and basically forbid you to obsess over Bieber or Katy Perry, but you didn’t necessarily ‘love’ his hard rock music taste. You tended to favor Sam’s favorites such as The Beatles, Wings, and the Traveling Wilburys, but Dean got you hooked on Queen, Creedence Clearwater Revival, and David Bowie.

5.) If either your dad or uncle were killed on a hunt or by whoever, they made a deal to take you in no matter what the circumstances were because they would never abandon you like John would.

6.) If you were ever hurt or sick, Dean and Sam would put on this whole show of Dr. Dad and Nurse Sammy. They would dress up in scrubs and check you over all while keeping a playful charade. Your final treatment would always be 20 extra cc’s of tickles and of course rest. Unlucky for you, this carried on well into your teenage years even if they had to drag you down to the infirmary to do so.

7.) You always understood that family doesn’t end in blood. When you were a little girl that reached up to just below their knees, you had the best family you could remember. Uncle Cas was always around and would let you put makeup on him and style his hair, but little did you know that you taught Castiel how to open his heart to people especially to a little girl. That came in handy when he sacrificed himself for the sake of you and Jack against the empty. Then of course you had Grandpa Bobby, or “GrandBob”. Bobby would come off as a nasty old grump to everyone else, but to you he would do anything you said. He practically raised Sam and Dean, but you were different than they were at your age. Bobby saw you as Dean’s precious baby girl who deserved the sun, moon, and stars. And damn-it, he would lasso the biggest star in the sky if you asked him to. You grew up with many amazing men who would do anything to keep you happy, but no one compared to Jack. You were 16 when Jack was born and unlike your dad and uncle in the beginning, you did everything in your power to protect him from your family. You actually helped Jack run away when he was first new, but you knew damn well and Dean dragged your ass back to the bunker once him and Sam tracked you both down. After Dean finally cam around to your side and chose to accept Jack as a member of the family, it made it easier for you to get closer with the devils son. You both were never romantically involved, but your were destined to the two half’s of a whole. He was your Westley and you were his Buttercup. However, Dean wasn’t too happy with seeing you and Jack getting all buddy-buddy, but Sam convinced him that this was really the first friendship you ever had. All through your life, you realized that you had a huge family that loved you, and you loved them in return always.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Y/N age 6

“Daddy, would you still love me if I was bad and mean like Lucifer was to you and Uncle Sammy?”

“Kiddo, I would still love you if you told me that you completely wrecked the Impala”

“That must mean a lot because Sammy told me that you love ‘Baby’ more than anything.”

“You’re my real baby. I will always chose you over a stupid car. But don’t tell Sammy that because it always makes him mad.”

“I love you too, Daddy. I love you more than all of the stars in the sky.”

“I love you more, Princess. With all my heart and each and every grain of sand”

[luna-writes-stuff]

Supernatural characters and what they want to do on a date, please? ♡

some of these will surprise absolutely no one but I am sO GLAD YOU ASKED ANON

——

Dean Winchester

I feel like Dean would be one of the easiest with a date. He always tries to do the things he wants to, so in a date, it won’t be much different. His perfect date would be a road trip - the length depending on what kind of date it is. Usually, you’d drive about four hours to destination unknown, but there have been occasions where you took a couple days off to travel the country and see some classic tourists locations. Vegas is most often where you end up. He’d take you to roadhouses for food, unless you’re travelling to a town specifically. Then, he’d try to find a restaurant which has food he actually likes. If you know him long enough, he might even let you drive Baby. But only for a short while. And his eyes will be glued on you constantly.

——

Sam Winchester

Sam is an absolute gentleman. He’d take you out to a restaurant, hold the door open for you, slide out your seat, won’t eat before you do etc. Nine out of ten times he has a tiny gift with him, regardless of the situation. It could be a random day and he’d give you a box of chocolates or a bouquet of roses. Again - he’s a classic gentleman. He settles for the classic gifts. Afterwards, he loves to take walks with you, visit a museum or simply sit on a bench with a view of some landscape. During hunts, he is likely to take you out to spontaneous trips to the library cafe. Not the most romantic place to go to, but he knows that his lifestyle makes it difficult for him to get to properly take you out all of the time. He prefers the short in between moments more than the entire night planned out. Doesn’t mean he doesn’t like them though.

——

Castiel

Does exactly what you randomly mentioned once. When you had only known him for a handful of weeks, you might have casually mentioned you love something such as going to the movies or visiting a beach, and now - years later - he’d have that remembered and do exactly as you said. Over the years, he learns much of human customs, so it isn’t that he doesn’t know what a proper date looks like. It’s simply that he likes to do the things you like to do. He’d much rather do something you forgot you had ever told him than to plan something out for himself out of thin air. Besides, he always enjoys seeing your reaction whenever he takes you out. ‘How did you know I would like this?’ ‘You told me four years ago.’ ‘?????’ He’s very endearing and can never get enough of the absolute shell shocked expression on your face whenever he decides to make your ideas come true. And it still surprises you after so many times.

——

Charlie Bradbury

No, I am not going to tell you she would not take you to a renaissance fair or an arcade or an impromptu DnD session because she absolutely would. Depending on your personal interests and experiences with either three, she’d definitely engage in it. Your first date would likely have been at a ren fair and it has become a tradition ever since. No - not a ren fair like her LARPing (which was still awesome). She’d get dressed up and offer you her arm the entire time. She’d take you to the medieval eating tents, watch live performances of battle field with you, buys you little trinkets at the marketplaces, lets you try on some cool clothing; whatever you enjoy most. The longer you’re dating, the more often you’d go out. At night when both of you are bored, she’d grab a car and take you to a nearby arcade, lovingly annihilating you in Dance Dance Revolution. When you have a free day, she’d try to introduce you to DnD and her current party. The more you learn about it, the more often you’d get invited to their sessions with your own character. She’d sit beside you, holding your hand under the table as she’d be by your character’s side the entire time. It doesn’t even matter that there are other people too. To you, it still feels like a date.

——

Gabriel

Initially, he’d definitely try to escalate the situation into a Casa Erotica tape, but he’s quick to agree with you once you decline. Most dates are spent in fancy hotels or restaurants of which you do not even know the same. He simply takes you there and you trust him with it. Gabriel is one who enjoys party and clubs, so he’d love to take you to cocktail bars every so often, keeping you close to him constantly and showing you off to everyone. Think hand on your waist constantly, sips of your glass, kisses on your cheek, chin on your shoulder etc. If you aren’t one for crowds or parties, he’d bring the party home or to a hotel chamber. He’d pop up his own little bar, mixing his own cocktails (or mocktails), offering them to you as a dramatic bartender, flirting with you as if he’d never seen you before. He’s also a big fan of taking you to big cities just to enjoy the view. You’d be at West End the first evening and Tokyo the second. He’s seen a lot of the world and loves to share that experience with you (and a lot of embarrassing tourist pictures with ‘I love Amsterdam’ shirts)

——

Lucifer

Whatever he does, he tries to brush it off casually. Did he put all that effort into making a non-poisonous dinner with a made table? Pfff, no big deal. Did he really remember you really liked that one necklace? Yeah, he thought you might like it. He definitely did not take that the moment you mentioned it and weren’t looking. He’s a big fan of the tiny date ideas. Movie night? Absolutely. Oh yes, there is a pit with pillows there but it definitely isn’t there because you love them and he secretly loves to hold you close in them. Going out to the marketplace? Fun! He definitely won’t offer you his arm the entire time and get everything you claim ‘smells nice’ or ‘still need’. He does tiny gestures and tries to brush them off every single time, even after you thank him for it or compliment him on it. He doesn’t brush it off out of his pride or negligence of you - on the contrary. He brushes it off to make it seem as if it is easy for him. He has spent a long time separated from any form of contact and has not known love for the majority of his life. To have finally found you is something completely foreign to him, and he tries to keep you happy so desperately, but he doesn’t want it to seem like he puts too much effort into it. It’s okay, though. You secretly know this.

——

Crowley

Much like Sam, he takes you out on classic dates. He’d show up to your doorstep, even though he can easily enter. He offers you his arm the entire night as he takes you out to dinner, walk the city or take you to that concert you mentioned once. Even better - he got you backstage passes. Your favourite artist in town? Isn’t it great to not have that ticket sale stress anymore? Whatever you do during the date, he makes sure you have a great time. Your pleasure and enjoyment comes first, and if that means he has to eat a place he hates or see a band he cannot stand, then so be it. He won’t make a long face nor express his dissatisfaction. If anything, he might even start to like it purely because you do. He’s quick to associate these things with you as well. Once you mention your love towards a certain dish or city, he keeps it locked in his mind and thinks of you every time someone mentions it. He’ll make sure to give you gifts often enough which go hand in hand with your interests and loves. He knows perfectly what you like and don’t like and always keeps this in mind. He’d never take you somewhere you don’t want to be or don’t like to go.

[gliphyartfan]

It’s that’s time of year again folks! Another year over and a new one beginning!

To those who stuck to my blog, thanks for STILL finding my works worth reading!

@yanderelinkeduniverse @stars-for-thought @eternadreeblissa @imprisioned-in-the-hole @screaming-until-god-hears-me @crestfallenmermaidan @ice-cream-writes-stuff @linked-heroes

To those who are new to my blog, thanks for finding my works worth reading 🥰

You guys are the best and I treasure you lot greatly.

Now, as always let’s begin this final bit for the year to make way for the new year!

————

———

——

—

The dean’s office buzzed with excitement as invitations to the prestigious Martell Charity Gala were handed out to select students. (Y/n) was one of the lucky few. She stared at the sleek black and dark blue card embossed with silver lettering.

‘You are cordially invited to the annual Martell Charity Gala. This year’s theme is Midnight Elegance. Dress code: black and dark blue. Formal attire required. We hope to see you there.’

The invitation was beyond anything she’d ever dreamed of. Or anything she ever expected to happen to her.

Attending the gala meant mingling with the city’s elite, and maybe even a chance to network for any future career she chose at the end of her term at the college. The dean himself had handed her the invite, his smile unusually cheerful. “You’ve been a promising student, (Y/n).” Says the man who never even spoke to her before. “ This is a rare opportunity. Represent our school well.”

She didn’t notice the brief glance he shared with an unassuming man in the corner of the office as she left the room, a subtle nod exchanged.

——

(At a certain home base.)

——

“We all know this alliance with the Martells is a powder keg. They’re unpredictable, and Emilio doesn’t trust us any more than we trust him.”

The room was dimly lit, the only illumination coming from a single overhead light and the faint glow of the city skyline beyond the large windows. Around the long table each hero sat with an air of tension hanging over them.

Time sat at the head, his hands folded in front of him.

Twilight, having been the one to speak, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, his expression grim.

“That’s an understatement,” Warriors added, sitting up straight with his hands folded in front of him. “The only reason he agreed to this ‘partnership’ is because it’s been mutually beneficial. But if he thinks we’re a threat to his control, he won’t hesitate to strike first.”

Hyrule shifted nervously, glancing between the others. “Do you think he’ll actually try something tonight? At a public event?”

“It’s possible…” Time said, his voice calm but firm. “Emilio knows this gala is the perfect stage to send a message, it’s his stage after all, to either solidify his power or undermine ours. That’s why we can’t let our guard down.”

Four, seated quietly at the table, nodded. “If he does try something, it won’t be obvious. He’ll strike in a way that keeps his hands clean while making us look weak.”

Wild smirked, his arms resting on the table. “Then we make sure he doesn’t get the chance. If things go south, I’ll have a plan to cut off his escape routes.”

“And cause a scene?” Warriors snapped, glaring at him. “We can’t afford to look reckless tonight. This Gala is well known in this city. Our reputation is at stake just as much as theirs.”

“Reputation doesn’t matter if we’re dead.” Wild shot back.

“Enough.” Time interrupted, his sharp tone silencing the room. He looked around at each of them, his gaze steady and commanding. “This isn’t the time for bickering. Emilio’s greatest weapon is chaos. We need to be united, disciplined, and ready to act. Without drawing unnecessary attention.”

His piercing gaze moved from one man to the next, ensuring he had their attention before he spoke.

“The Martell family’s gala tomorrow is an opportunity.” Time began, his voice calm but firm. “They’re gathering their allies, consolidating power, and using the pretense of charity to solidify their influence in the city. This is our chance to remind them that their reach is not absolute.”

Warriors leaned forward, his arms crossed. “And how exactly do we plan to do that without starting an all-out war in the middle of a ballroom? They’ll have security everywhere.”

“We’re not here to make a spectacle,” Twilight interjected, his tone even. “This is about sending a message. Subtle but clear.”

“Subtle’s not exactly our specialty,” Wild muttered, smirking.

“We’ll manage.” Time said bluntly, cutting off any further quips. “Legend, Four, and Hyrule have already ensured we’ll be prepared to bypass the Martells’ security measures.” He gestured toward the cane by his side. “Their metal detectors won’t detect our weapons.”

Hyrule nodded, his usually bright demeanor subdued. “The enchantments on the wood will hold, but they’re not infallible. We’ll need to act quickly if it comes to a fight.”

“What about their allies?” Legend asked, his voice sharp. “It’s not just the Martells we’re dealing with. They’ve got half the city’s scum in their pocket, and you can bet some of them will be at that party.”

“That’s why we’re keeping our eyes open,” Time replied. “This isn’t just about the Martells. It’s about understanding the full scope of their operations. Who they’re working with, what their next moves are. information is just as valuable as action.”

Sky leaned back in his chair, his arms crossed thoughtfully. “What’s the endgame here? If we make our move too soon, we risk pushing them into retaliation. And if we wait too long, they’ll see us as weak.”

“They already see us as a threat,” Warriors said. “That’s why they’re inviting us to this gala in the first place. They’re making a show of strength.”

“And we’re here to remind them that we’re not afraid.” Twilight added.

“What about (Y/n)?” Wild asked suddenly, drawing the attention of the group. “She wanted to invite us to celebrate New years with her family.” Every one was quiet at that.

“…Does she even know about any of this?”

“She doesn’t know the specifics.” Time said, his voice softening slightly. “And she won’t be involved. The last thing we need is for her to become a target when our position is being challenged.”

“Keeping her out of this might be harder than you think.” Legend muttered. “She’s observant. If she figures out what we’re up to-“

“She won’t.” Time interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “We’ve kept her in the dark for a reason. This is not her world, and I intend to keep it that way.”

Wild exchanged a glance with Twilight, but neither said anything further.

As the conversation continued, the Chain began outlining their individual roles for the evening.

“Warriors and Twilight will be stationed near the entrances,” Time instructed. “You’ll monitor who comes and goes. Note anyone of interest and ensure no surprises.”

“Understood.” Warriors said, his expression serious.

“Sky, you’ll be mingling within the crowd with me,” Time continued. “Keep your ears open for any useful information. If anyone seems too eager to flaunt their alliances, take note. Wild will go undercover.”

Sky nodded, while Wild smirked. “I’m great at blending in.”

“Legend, and Hyrule,” Time said, turning to them. “You’ll be my backup. If things take a turn, we’ll need to act quickly and decisively.”

“And besides being with Sky, what will you do?” Warriors asked, his brow furrowed.

“I’ll handle Emilio Martell personally.” Time said. “If he thinks he can intimidate us into backing down, he’ll learn otherwise.”

The group was wrapping up their meeting when Sky frowned and gestured toward the table. “What about the alliance? Are we still trying to maintain it, or are we burning that bridge tonight?”

“The alliance is tenuous at best,” Time admitted. “If the opportunity arises to weaken their position without breaking our agreement, we take it. But if they cross the line—”

“We make sure they regret it.” Twilight finished, his tone cementing the decision.

The room fell silent as the weight of their mission settled over them. Each man understood the risks involved, but none of them wavered.

As they prepared to leave, Time glanced at them one last time. “This is a game of chess. Stay sharp, stay vigilant, and don’t make any moves you can’t defend.”

They nodded, each heading off to prepare for the night ahead. None of them realized that (Y/n)’s presence at the gala would throw their plans into chaos.

——

——

(Y/N) sat crosslegged on her bed, her laptop open to a collection of evening dresses she had been scrolling through for the past hour.

Around her, piles of her own clothes were scattered, a few dresses, skirts, and tops she had dragged out in a half hearted attempt to make something work.

Her best friends, Nic and Tess, lounged nearby, armed with snacks and opinions. Tess flipped through a fashion magazine, occasionally holding it up to show a dress she thought would work, while Nic leaned against the wall, his arms crossed and a skeptical look on his face.

“I don’t get why you’re even going to this thing,” Nic said, frowning. “Missing New Year’s with your family for some snobby party full of rich jerks? What’s the point?”

(Y/N) sighed, flopping back onto her bed. “The Dean basically cornered me into it. He said it’s a great opportunity for networking, and I could represent the college or something. Plus, he said the invitation was ‘special.’” She made air quotes.

Tess raised an eyebrow. “Special? Sounds suspicious.”

“I thought so too,” (Y/N) admitted, sitting up again. “But he made it sound like I’d be ungrateful if I didn’t go. And now I’m stuck trying to figure out what to wear when I could be at home with my family, watching movies and eating junk food.”

Nic snorted. “Yeah, sounds like a real ‘opportunity.’”

“Stop sulking, Nic.” Tess said, smirking. “If she’s going to go, we might as well make sure she looks amazing.”

(Y/N) groaned. “That’s the problem. The dress code is black and dark blue, and everything I’ve looked at is either ridiculously expensive or way too fancy for me.”

Tess tossed the magazine onto the bed and gestured to (Y/N)’s laptop. “Show me what you’ve found so far.”

(Y/N) pulled up a tab with a simple but elegant black dress, a knee length with a slight shimmer to the fabric and a modest V-neckline. “This one’s nice, but even the budget version is still kind of pricey.”

Tess nodded approvingly. “That’s actually pretty perfect. It’s simple, but with the right accessories, it’ll look classy.”

Nic squinted at the screen. “How much is it?”

(Y/N) winced. “More than I’d like to spend.”

“Ugh, fine,” Nic said, throwing his hands up. “I’ll chip in. But you owe me one.”

(Y/N) blinked in surprise. “You’d do that?”

“Of course,” Nic said, rolling his eyes. “I’m not going to let you show up to some hot shot event looking like you just rolled out of bed.”

Tess grinned. “Now we’re getting somewhere. Okay, we need shoes. Do you have anything that would work?”

(Y/N) got up and rummaged through her closet, pulling out a pair of black heels. “These?”

“Perfect,” Tess said. “Now jewelry. Do you have anything sparkly but not over the top?”

(Y/N) nodded, grabbing a simple silver pendant necklace her grandmother had given her. “…This?”

“Oooh~” Tess said. “It’s perfect.”

Nic sighed dramatically. “I can’t believe I’m sitting through this. I could be at home right now.”

(Y/N) laughed. “But you’re not and I love you for it Nic. I owe you big time.”

“Damn right you do.” he said, with a half hearted grumble.. “But seriously, you better make it worth it. If you’re going to miss New Year’s with your family, at least make sure you own the room.”

He paused and looked at Tess. “…and since when can you pick decent looking outfits?”

Tess cheerfully flipped him off as a response.

(Y/N) smiled, feeling a little less anxious about the event. “Thanks, guys. You’re the best.”

Tess waved a hand dismissively. “Just remember us little people when you’re flattering the rich boys.”

“Not likely.” (Y/N) said, grinning. “But I’ll try to survive the night without embarrassing myself.”

———

—-

——-

The ballroom was a sight of elegance.

Dark blue and black draped the high ceilings, lit by soft, golden chandeliers that cast a warm glow over the polished floors.

Guests were trickling in, dressed in sleek gowns and sharp suits, as waiters weaved through the crowd with trays of champagne flutes and hors d’oeuvres. The Martells, as always, spared no expense for their events.

The Chain arrived early, sharply dressed in tailored suits. Time, standing tall with his cane, led the group into the room. His expression was calm, blank, almost cold, but beneath the surface, his mind was cataloging every detail his eye took in.

Warriors adjusted the cufflinks on his dark blue suit, his eyes scanning the room for anything out of place. “The decorations scream ‘power play,’ but the crowd isn’t just Martells and their allies. Look, some of their enemies are here too.”

“Which are also OUR enemies.”

“Enemy of my enemy and all that?”

“ They’ve got a mixed hand tonight.”

“Not good” Twilight said, his voice low. “But the more we know, the better.”

Sky walked close to Time. “I’ll keep an eye on the exits. If anything goes wrong, we’ll need a way out.”

“Wild,” Time said, glancing at him. “Mask up. We need you moving unseen.”

Wild nodded, slipping on the Stone Mask Time gave him. As soon as it settled on his face, Wild’s presence seemed to fade, even from his companions.

“Make a circuit around the room.” Time instructed. “Mark the exits, entrances, and anything unusual. Report back as soon as you have something.”

Without a word and two taps on Time’s shoulder, Wild slipped into the crowd, moving unnoticed even as he brushed past guests and waiters..

That was the cue for fhe Chain to subtl spread out, the tension between them was palpable. Hyrule stayed near the refreshments table, pretending to enjoy a drink as he scanned for any signs of trouble.

Warriors lingered near the dance floor, his sharp eyes watching the movements of the waitstaff and Martell associates.

Twilight leaned against a pillar near one of the exits, his stance relaxed but his senses sharp. “I don’t like this…” he muttered into the comms.

“No one does.” Time responded coolly. He stood near the center of the room, his cane in hand, glass of champagne in another, looking every bit like a guest enjoying the event and he smiled at Legend while they pretended to have a normal chat. “Focus. Stay sharp.”

Minutes passed, and then Wild’s voice crackled through their earpieces. “…We’ve got a problem.”

“What is it?” Warriors asked immediately.

Wild’s tone was unusually tense. “She’s here.”

There was a pause before Time’s measured voice cut through. “Who?”

“(Y/N).” Wild said, his voice more anxious this time. “She’s at the event.”

The Chain froze. The air seemed to thicken as the weight of Wild’s words sank in.

“What?” Twilight said sharply, his calm demeanor cracking.

“Are you sure?” Sky asked, his tone a mix of disbelief and concern.

Wild confirmed, “Positive. She’s here, and… she looks like a guest, not someone who wandered in. This isn’t an accident.”

Sky clenched his fists, trying to stay calm, but his attention shifted sharply as he spotted movement across the room. His eyes widening slightly when he saw a tall, dark-haired man in a perfectly tailored black suit approach (Y/N).

“It gets worse..” Sky muttered into the comms. “She’s being approached by Emilio Martell.”

The Chain’s tension snapped into a razor sharp focus.

———

—

———

(Y/N) stood near a small group of guests, nursing a flute of sparkling water as she tried to blend in. Her dress fit the event’s theme perfectly, but she still felt out of place. She glanced around, scanning the faces of the room, trying to distract herself from the dull ache of missing her family on New Year’s Eve.

“Miss (Y/N)..” came a smooth voice behind her.

She turned, startled to see a tall man with a confident smile and piercing green eyes. His presence was…attention grabbing, the kind of aura that drew you in whether you wanted it or not.

“I don’t believe we’ve been introduced.” he said, extending a hand. “Emilio Martell. Organizer of this years event. A pleasure to meet you.”

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment before shaking his hand. “(Y/N). Nice to meet you.”

“You must be a guest of honor,” Emilio said, his tone laced with charm. “You stand out in a room full of people trying very hard not to.”

(Y/N) gave a polite smile, unsure how to respond. “I’m.. actually here on behalf of my college. My Dean thought it would be a good opportunity. I’m surprised you know my name.”

Emilio’s smile widened. “A wise choice on his part. And I make it a point to know the names of my guests. Your presence certainly elevates the room.”

—-

——

Sky’s hands balled into fists as he watched Emilio speak to (Y/N). His posture stiffened, and his normally calm demeanor wavered. “We need to get her out of there,” he muttered.

“No sudden moves, Sky stand down.” Time said firmly. “We can’t tip our hand.”

“She doesn’t know who Emilio is.” Warriors said, his voice strained. “She doesn’t know she’s walking into a lion’s den. Who invited her here?”

“I aim to find out.” Legend growled under his breath as he tapped away at his phone, Wind and Four on the other line, watching though the cameras.

Twilight growled, his frustration barely contained. “We need a plan. Now.”

“We can’t draw attention.” Time said. His voice remained calm, but there was a cold edge to it. “Wild, stay on her. Legend, find a way to get closer without causing a scene. Everyone else, maintain your positions.”

The Chain knew they were on borrowed time. The stakes had just risen, and they couldn’t afford to make a single misstep, not when (Y/N) was now caught in the middle of this.

——

——

Emilio Martell’s charming smile never wavered as he continued speaking to (Y/N), his body language relaxed and confident. He was fully aware of the eyes on him. But it was no matter. Emilio thrived on this kind of tension, playing the predator circling his prey.

“You’ve been making an an excellent impression tonight.” he said to (Y/N), his voice low and smooth. “I’m sure your college will appreciate the effort. And what about you? Are you enjoying yourself?”

(Y/N) hesitated, glancing at the luxurious surroundings. She was still a little on edge, but Emilio’s casual attitude eemed to ease her nerves. “It’s a beautiful event…” she admitted with a sheepish smile. “A bit overwhelming, but… yes, I think I am.”

Emilio nodded, his smile widening. “I’m glad. It’s always a pleasure to meet someone with a genuine appreciation for the finer things.” He gestured toward the bar. “Can I get you something? A champagne? Perhaps something stronger?”

“No, thank you.” (Y/N) said politely. “I’m fine with sparkling water.”

“Ah, a woman of discipline,” Emilio said, his tone approving. “I respect that.”

From his position near one of the exits, Sky watched the interaction with barely contained anger. Emilio’s posture and expression were deceptively polite, but there was an undeniable undercurrent of smugness, as though he were mocking them with every word.

“Emilio knows,” Sky said into his comm, his tone tight. “He’s playing her to get at us. This isn’t a coincidence.”

“No,” Time responded coldly, his gaze locked on Emilio from across the room. “This is deliberate. He wanted us here, and now he’s using her as leverage.”

“Then why isn’t he doing anything yet?” Twilight asked. He was stationed at a nearby pillar, his sharp eyes scanning for any sign of Emilio’s associates.

“He’s baiting us,” Warriors said grimly. “Waiting for us to make the first move so he can claim innocence.”

“What’s the plan?” Wild’s voice came through, calm but edged with tension. He had taken a position near the shadows of the room, his presence still cloaked by the Stone Mask.

“Hold positions.” Time ordered. “We can’t act without exposing her connection to us. Sky, stay close but out of sight. Legend keep your bracelet at the ready, Wild, keep circling. Look for anything out of place.”

“And if he tries something?” Hyrule asked, his voice quiet but determined.

“He won’t get the chance.” Time replied calmly.

As (Y/N) tried to navigate the conversation, she felt the weight of Emilio’s attention growing heavier. He leaned in slightly, his tone dropping to something more intimate.

“You have an air about you,” Emilio said. “Something unique. People like you don’t go unnoticed in a place like this.”

(Y/N) offered a polite smile, her discomfort starting to creep back in. “I’m just here to represent my college. Nothing special.”

Emilio chuckled softly. “Don’t sell yourself short. A sharp mind and a beautiful face, those are rare qualities. But I imagine you already know that. Perhaps there is a position in one of my businesses that could use someone like you..”

Before (Y/N) could respond, another voice cut through the moment.

“Ah, Martell. Already charming the guests, I see.”

Time’s smooth, even tone drew Emilio’s attention. The older man approached with a casual gait, his cane tapping lightly against the polished floor. His expression was perfectly neutral, betraying nothing of the storm beneath.

Emilio straightened, his smile unfaltering. “And here I thought you were too busy inspecting the decor to join us, Signore Time.”

Time’s lips twitched in the faintest semblance of a polite smile. “One should always make time for old acquaintances.” His sharp eye flickered to (Y/N), and he added, “And new ones.”

(Y/N) brightened slightly at his familiar presence. “Time! I didn’t know you were here.”

“I couldn’t miss such a prestigious event, especially one I was invited to.” Time replied smoothly, his gaze briefly lingering on her before returning to Emilio. “And it seems you’ve already made an impression.”

Emilio’s smile tightened, just a fraction. “Your reputation precedes you, Signore Time. Always a man of observation.”

Time inclined his head, his grip tightening slightly on his cane. “And you’ve always been a man of theatrics. How… fitting.”

The subtle tension between the two men was palpable, though (Y/N) seemed blissfully unaware of the undercurrents. Distracted with the relief of someone familiar at the event with her.

Emilio continued, Wild’s voice came through the comms again.

“Martell’s got people,” he said quietly. “Two by the north exit, one near the bar. They’re watching Emilio closely.”

“Armed?” Warriors asked.

“Likely,” Wild confirmed. “And they’re not alone. There’s movement on the buildings across from this place, looks like snipers.”

Four’s voice came through the comms, cold. “Keep marking positions. We’re not moving until we know the full picture.”

—-

Emilio took a step closer to Time, his smile still intact but his eyes hardening. “This city is a place for opportunity, don’t you think? A place where alliances can thrive… or falter.”

Time didn’t react, his tone even. “Opportunity, like respect, is earned. Not bought with cheap theatrics.”

Emilio chuckled, though the humor didn’t reach his eyes. “And yet, it seems even you can’t resist a good show.”

Time met his gaze steadily, unflinching. “Let’s hope your finale doesn’t disappoint.”

The tension between them was thick enough to cut with a knife, but both men maintained their masks of civility.

As Emilio turned back to (Y/N), his charming smile returning, Sky took the chance to step closer, his presence calm but deliberate.

“Excuse me.” Sky said smoothly, his voice gentle but firm. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

(Y/N) turned, surprised but relieved to see him. “Sky! You’re here too?”

“I’m someone’s plus one tonight.” Sky replied, his gaze briefly flicking to Emilio before returning to (Y/N). “Would you mind if I borrowed you for a moment? I’d like to catch up if that’s alright with you Mr. martell?”

Emilio’s smile didn’t falter, but there was a flicker of annoyance in his eyes. “Of course. I wouldn’t want to monopolize her time.”

(Y/N) nodded. “Sure, Sky.”

Sky offered her his arm, and she took it, allowing him to gently guide her away. As they moved, Wind’s voice came through the comms.

“She’s safe for now, Sky has her.” he said. “But Emilio’s watching her closely. We need to wrap this up before he makes his move.”

——-

——-

Emilio watched as Sky led (Y/N) away, his smile lingering for a moment longer before he turned his attention back to Time. The man before him was an enigma, always calm, always composed, and always a step ahead. Emilio had played these games with powerful men before, but there was something about “Signore Time” that unsettled him.

“Your associate seems quite protective,” Emilio remarked, his tone casual but his words carefully chosen.

Time’s one visible eye remained fixed on him, cold and calculating. “My associates are loyal. Loyalty is the foundation of any successful… endeavor, don’t you agree?”

Emilio’s smile tightened. “Of course. Loyalty, after all, is the currency of trust. But trust can be so fleeting, can’t it? Especially in our line of work.”

“Only for those who don’t know its value,” Time replied smoothly. He leaned lightly on his cane, the movement calculated to appear as a casual gesture. “Those who gamble with loyalty often find themselves alone when the stakes are highest.”

Emilio chuckled, though there was no humor in it. “Ah, but gambling can be so exhilarating, can’t it? The thrill of the unknown, the rush of risk… It’s what keeps us all moving forward.”

“Some might say it’s a fool’s game,” Time countered. “A fleeting pleasure for those who mistake recklessness for strength.”

Emilio tilted his head, feigning thoughtfulness. “And yet, even the most calculated plans can crumble under the weight of a single misstep. Tell me, Signore Time, do you ever wonder if your own calculations might one day fail you?”

Time’s lips curved into the faintest semblance of a smile. “I’ve learned to anticipate missteps. To anticipate possibilities of past, present and future. It’s why I’m still standing.” He paused, his tone lowering slightly. “But the same can’t be said for everyone, can it…Emilio?”

The subtle use of Emilio’s first name was not lost on the younger man, whose smile faltered ever so slightly before he quickly recovered. “Touché. You’ve always been… thorough. But thoroughness has its price. It must get exhausting, always watching, always waiting.”

“Not as exhausting as underestimating an opponent.” Time said, his tone icy. He tapped his cane lightly against the floor, the sound barely audible over the soft murmur of the gala. “Tell me, Emilio, do you ever wonder if your own gambles will come back to haunt you? Or do you prefer to ignore the debts you’ve accrued?”

Emilio’s smile grew sharper, his eyes narrowing. “Debts, Signore Time, are a necessary part of the game. It’s how you leverage them that determines your success. But then again, you’ve never been one to play by conventional rules, have you?”

“I’ve found conventional rules to be limiting. ” Time replied. “And fragile.” He stepped forward slightly, just enough to subtly impose his presence. “Unlike the alliances I forge, which are built to last.”

Emilio laughed lightly, though there was a tension in his posture now. “Well, I suppose that’s what sets you apart. A man of… permanence in a world that changes so quickly. It’s admirable, really.”

“Admiration is a fleeting thing,” Time said, his gaze unwavering. “I prefer respect. It holds more weight.”

Emilio held his gaze for a long moment, his smile thinning. “You’ve always been good at commanding respect, Signore Time. But I wonder… how long can one man hold the weight of it all before he crumbles?”

Time didn’t blink. His voice was calm, deliberate, and unyielding. “A man who stands alone might crumble. But a man who stands with those who are loyal to him? He becomes unshakable.”

The two men stood in silence for a moment, the tension between them palpable. Emilio’s smile remained, but his eyes betrayed the simmering frustration beneath the surface. Time, as always, was unmovable, his presence as solid and enduring as the name he had chosen for himself.

“Enjoy the evening, Signore Time,” Emilio said finally, his tone polite but edged with malice.

“I always do.” Time replied, his voice even. “And I trust you will as well. After all, tonight’s… festivities are just getting started.”

As Emilio turned and walked away, Time remained still, his grip on his cane tightening ever so slightly. The game had begun, and Time was already five moves ahead.

——

——

The gala was in full swing. Guests floated across the polished marble floor, their laughter and conversation a background to the string quartet playing softly in the corner. Yet, for those who knew the true purpose of the evening, the atmosphere was a mask stretched thin, ready to snap at the slightest poke.

Amidst the glittering gowns and tailored suits, the Chain moved like shadows. Twilight and Warriors blended seamlessly into the crowd, their sharp eyes scanning the room for potential threats. Hyrule lingered near a grand pillar, subtly marking the entrances and exits, while Wild, cloaked in the anonymity granted by his Stone Mask, wove unnoticed through the clusters of guests.

Through the comms, Wind’s voice cut through the quiet hum of tension. “Why do they get to hang out with her? I’m stuck doing recon! It’s not fair!”

“Wind,” Warriors replied curtly, his voice low and commanding, “focus on your task. She’s safer this way.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Wind muttered, clearly pouting. “Still sucks.”

Wild, unseen and unnoticed, chuckled softly through his channel. “Keep your eyes open, kid. We’ll make it up to you later.”

“Wild,” Time’s calm voice interrupted, laced with authority, “report.”

Wild’s tone shifted immediately. “Martell is making his rounds, but nothing actionable yet. I’ll keep tracking him.”

Time’s gaze flicked briefly toward the far end of the room, where Emilio Martell moved among the guests with practiced ease, his smile as polished as the cut crystal glasses in their hands. But his focus didn’t linger. He turned back to (Y/N), who stood beside him and Sky, her expression bright with a mix of curiosity and unease.

Time allowed himself a brief moment to savor her presence. Her dark blue dress, simple yet stunning, caught the light just enough to draw the eye without overwhelming, the intricate stitching along the hem whispering of elegance on a budget. Her (h/c) hair framed her face perfectly, and her eyes sparkled with the kind of sincerity that felt rare in a room filled with veiled intentions.

Sky leaned closer to her, his warm smile disarming. “You look incredible tonight, (Y/N). It’s no wonder you caught everyone’s attention.”

She blushed lightly, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “Thanks, but I feel a little out of place here. Everyone seems so… important.”

“You belong here as much as anyone.” Time assured her, his voice steady and grounding.

Her lips curved into a small smile, though doubt still lingered in her eyes. “Well, I wouldn’t even be here if it weren’t for the Dean. It’s strange that he thought I’d fit in at something like this.”

Sky’s expression remained relaxed, though a flicker of unease passed between him and Time. “You’re more important than you realize.” Sky said softly, his words layered with a meaning she didn’t catch.

In the distance, Hyrule’s voice crackled softly through the comms. “Martell’s stopping near the auction stage. He’s speaking to someone, looks like one of the heads of the merchant syndicate.”

Twilight’s voice followed, low and steady. “No sudden moves. We’re not here to start anything unless it’s unavoidable.”

“Unavoidable might come faster than we think,” Warriors murmured. “Keep eyes on the entrances. If Martell’s expecting trouble, he’ll have a backup plan.”

Meanwhile, (Y/N) shifted slightly, her attention caught by a glittering chandelier overhead. “This place is incredible,” she said, her voice full of genuine awe. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Sky chuckled. “It does have a certain charm, doesn’t it?”

Time’s gaze remained fixed on her, his usual stoicism softening ever so slightly. “You have an eye for beauty.” he remarked.

She laughed lightly, shaking her head. “I think it’s just the novelty. I’m not used to this kind of… luxury.”

Through the comms, Wind groaned dramatically. “She’s so adorable, and I’m missing it! This is the worst.”

“Focus, Wind,” Warriors snapped.

“Fine.” Wind muttered, his voice laced with defeat.

Wild’s report cut through the moment. “Martell’s moving again. Heading toward the upper balcony.”

“Good,” Time said quietly. “Everyone, stay in position. Sky and I will keep her occupied. Wild, follow Martell but keep your distance.”

“Understood,” Wild replied, already moving.

As the Chain’s unseen web tightened around the room, Sky leaned closer to (Y/N), his voice low and playful. “So, what’s the verdict? Are you enjoying the party?”

She smiled up at him, her earlier unease momentarily forgotten. “Honestly, I think I’m more nervous than anything. But it’s… nice.”

Time’s hand rested lightly on the head of his cane, his ever watchful eye scanning the room even as he spoke. “As long as you’re with us, there’s nothing to be nervous about.”

Though she didn’t fully understand the depth of his words, (Y/N) found comfort in them, unaware of the storm brewing just beneath the surface.

——

Far away from the Gala, something odd began to happe.

The Chain’s main property had a vault hidden deep within its estate, a place no one besides the nine visited. This room held everything they had managed to hold on to from Hyrule: old weapons, tools, trinkets, and treasures with enough magic to make anyone in the modern world go pale. The storage was locked tight, enchanted by Hyrule, Legend, and Time to ensure no one but the Chain could enter.

The room was dim, the only light coming from faintly glowing runes etched into the walls and the edges of shelves. Everything in here had a history, everything had a use but tonight, one item decided to stir.

A small, nondescript pouch sat on a table, forgotten among the more dramatic relics. It didn’t look like much-just a plain, worn bag. But it twitched, the fabric shifting like it had something alive inside.

Then, the drawstring loosened on its own, and out rolled a small wooden carving. The figure landed lightly on the table, lying still for a moment before its smooth, carved head tilted slightly, as though waking up.

The carving was unmistakable: it was (Y/N), dressed in a blue tunic and trousers like a proper Hylian adventurer. The details were shockingly accurate, down to the tiny curls of her hair and the soft expression on her face.

The doll’s eyes glowed faintly, their light cutting through the dark room. Then came the sound, soft at first, like a faint giggle, playful and almost childlike.

It echoed, but it did not sound malicious. The doll twitched, its tiny arms shifting slightly as if it was trying to stretch. And then, a voice filled the room.

“Warmth…” the voice murmured, the word reverberating through the storage like a ripple in still water. “Home. Heart. Warmth is here.”

A translucent mist began to seep out of the doll, curling like smoke but with a faint glow that pulsed like a heartbeat. The mist swirled and rose, twisting as it moved toward the ceiling.

The voice spoke again, louder now, with a strange resonance that filled the room. “Warmth is near…will find it.”

The mist lingered for a moment, swirling around the wooden carving before shooting upward, slipping through the cracks of the ceiling and disappearing entirely. It moved with purpose, drawn by an invisible force.

the undeniable presence of its Warmth, its Home, its Heart.

Somewhere, far from the location, (Y/N) remained blissfully unaware of the being seeking her out, as it moved with desire to be ever closer to its source of warmth.

——

The Gala buzzed around them, a hum of conversation, clinking glasses, and soft music filling the air. But (Y/N) barely noticed any of it as she leaned slightly toward Sky and Time, the tension in her shoulders melting just a little.

“I’m just saying,” (Y/N) grumbled, crossing her arms, “the Dean could’ve picked literally anyone else. I don’t even know why he thought I’d be a good fit for this.” She sighed, glancing at her nearly untouched glass of champagne. “I should be home right now, watching cheesy countdown specials with my family and eating way too many snacks. Not… whatever this is.”

Sky smiled at her, a little softer than usual. “Maybe he just thought you’d represent the school well,” he offered, though there was an edge to his voice, like he didn’t buy it either.

“Doubt it,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “This is the same guy who got my name wrong at orientation. Twice. And now I’m here, dressed like someone I’m not, trying to smile at people who probably don’t even care if I’m alive.”

Time didn’t say much, but his presence was steady. He tilted his head slightly, letting her vent without interruption, his good eye focused on her like she was the only thing in the room worth paying attention to.

Suddenly, Four’s voice came through the comms in their ears, low but clear. “I’m already looking into the Dean.” he said. “No way this is just a coincidence.”

Sky and Time didn’t react outwardly, but they exchanged a quick glance.

“What’ve you got so far?” Time asked, his voice barely above a murmur as he turned his attention back to (Y/N), who was fiddling with her glass and muttering something about how dumb gala food was.

“Not much yet,” Four replied. “But the timing’s too perfect. The Martells pull this stunt, and she just happens to be invited? Nah, there’s more to it. I’ll keep digging.”

Sky nodded subtly, keeping his expression neutral for (Y/N)’s sake. “Keep us updated,” he said under his breath, before giving her a reassuring smile. “At least you look good.” he added lightly, hoping to cheer her up.

(Y/N) groaned, half-amused. “Yeah, well, this dress cost me an entire paycheck, and a debt to Nic, so I’d better.” She glanced down at the elegant-but simple-dark blue gown she’d managed to snag last-minute. “I still feel out of place.”

“You’re not,” Time said quietly, his voice carrying that calm authority that made it impossible to argue. “You belong here with us.”

(Y/N) blinked at him, a little thrown by his certainty, but she didn’t have the energy to argue. “If you say so…” she mumbled, though her lips quirked into a faint smile.

Meanwhile, through the comms, Wind’s voice piped up, loud and eager. “Are we done keeping out of sight yet? I wanna hang out with her too!”

Sky sighed, keeping his voice low. “Patience, kid. She’s in a good mood. Let’s not ruin it.”

“Easy for you to say,” Wind huffed. “I’m stuck back here like some kind of stalker.”

“Wind,” Four said flatly, “you are a stalker right now. Stay put.”

The Chain kept their focus tight, even as (Y/N) relaxed more, her complaints slowing. But the underlying tension in the room wasn’t lost on them.

The music eventually slowed, and the crowd’s murmurs hushed as Emilio stepped onto the stage. His smile was wide, charming, but there was something in his eyes that set every nerve in the Chain on edge. A single hand gesture brought the room’s attention to him like he was the star of the show.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” Emilio began smoothly, holding a glass of champagne like he was about to propose a toast. “I want to thank you all for joining us tonight as we welcome a new year. A year full of opportunities, partnerships, and, of course… resolutions.”

The crowd chuckled politely. Time’s jaw tightened, his cane resting just slightly closer to his side.

Emilio’s smile sharpened, though his tone stayed light. “Now, as we move forward, let’s all remember: respect is key. Whether in business or… personal matters.” He let the words hang in the air for a beat too long. “After all, no empire, no matter how storied, lasts without mutual understanding.”

Sky stiffened beside (Y/N), his hand brushing against her back as if by accident. Time said nothing, his face unreadable, but (Y/N) noticed his grip tighten slightly on the cane.

Emilio raised his glass higher. “To a prosperous new year-for all of us.”

The crowd erupted in cheers, the clinking of glasses filling the room as the lights suddenly flickered and cut out, plunging the venue into darkness. Gasps and murmurs spread like wildfire.

“Stay close.” Time muttered, grabbing (Y/N)’s wrist with enough firmness to leave no room for argument.

“What’s happening?” she whispered, but before either of them could answer, Wild’s voice crackled through their comms.

“They’re moving in.” Wild said, his voice clipped and urgent. “Emilio’s men are storming the place. They’re heading straight for you, Time. You’ve got maybe thirty seconds.”

Sky was already moving, grabbing (Y/N) by the arm and guiding her with Time through the chaos of startled partygoers. His voice was low, but firm. “Keep your head down and follow us.”

(Y/N)’s heart raced, her breath catching as the noise around them grew louder-panicked whispers, the shuffling of feet, and something heavier, more deliberate in the distance. “What’s going on?” she hissed.

“Not now.” Time said sharply, his tone brooking no argument.

Sky’s grip tightened as he scanned the room, their path lit only by the faint glow of emergency lights near the exits. “Wild, where are they now?”

“Closing in fast. Four’s trying to block the north wing, but there’s too many.”

“Twilight?” Time asked, guiding (Y/N) through the crowd with precise movements.

“Already clearing the way out,” Twilight answered. “Just get her to safety.”

(Y/N)’s mind raced as she tried to piece together what was happening, but the sheer force of Time and Sky’s urgency kept her quiet.

—-

The crowd grew more frantic, murmurs turning into shouts as Emilio’s men pushed through, barking orders for people to move aside. The air was thick with tension, and (Y/N) could feel it like a weight pressing down on her chest. Time and Sky moved quickly, keeping her between them as Four’s voice came through the comms.

“Keep moving south. Wind and I cleared a path through the kitchens. Get her there now.”

“Understood.” Time muttered, his grip steady on (Y/N)’s arm.

The three weaved through the growing chaos, Emilio’s men shoving partygoers out of the way as they advanced. A few of the guests started screaming, the reality of the situation hitting them like a brick. Sky stepped up his pace, his hand briefly brushing (Y/N)’s back to guide her faster.

“Almost there,” Sky said lowly, his eyes darting to every shadow.

(Y/N) stumbled slightly, catching her balance before glaring at him. “What the hell is going on? Who are these guys?”

“Not now.” Time said again, his voice firm but not unkind.

“Of course not now,” she muttered. “It’s always ‘not now.’”

They slipped into the kitchens, the bright lights and sterile metal surfaces a stark contrast to the dim chaos outside. Wind was waiting near the door, waving them over impatiently.

“Took you long enough.” he said, shutting the door behind them and locking it. “This place is going to hell out there.”

“Thanks for the update,” Sky said dryly, turning to (Y/N). “Sorry about all this. You weren’t supposed to-”

“To what?” (Y/N) cut him off, throwing her hands in the air. “Get dragged into some shady mafia nonsense on New Year’s Eve? Yeah, I kinda figured this would happen the second Time decided to show up.” She crossed her arms, her glare switching to Time.

“I should’ve stayed home, eaten my weight in cookies, and fallen into a food coma watching bad movies.” She huffed. “But no, this had to happen because you, Mr. Mysterious Mafia Boss, decided to ruin my night.”

Sky stiffened, unsure how to respond, but Time-of all people-just smiled. It was sheepish but amused, like he wasn’t even going to try denying it.

“That’s fair.” Time said, his tone lighter than she expected.

(Y/N) blinked, caught off guard by his reaction. She stared at him, then threw up her hands again. “Okay, good. Glad we’re on the same page.”

“Does that mean you’ll forgive me?” Time asked, his tone teasing but sincere.

She narrowed her eyes. “Only if I make it out of this alive-and you owe me big time.”

Time chuckled softly, his one good eye crinkling with amusement. “Deal.”

“Uh, not to interrupt,” Wind said, gesturing to the door, “but we’ve got bigger problems heading this way. Might want to save the banter for later.”

Time nodded, his expression sobering instantly. “Wild, status?”

“Still busy,” Wild answered over the comms. “But Emilio’s men are splitting up. They know you’re not in the main hall anymore.”

“Perfect.” Sky muttered, checking his surroundings.

Time turned back to (Y/N), his voice softer this time. “Stay close. No matter what happens, we’ll get you out of here.”

(Y/N) sighed, her irritation giving way to nervousness as she nodded. “You better.”

“Don’t worry,” Sky added with a small smile. “We’ve got this.”

“Less talking, more moving!” Wind urged, leading them toward the far side of the kitchens. The faint sounds of heavy boots grew louder, and the group picked up their pace, hearts pounding in sync with the chaos outside.

—-

—-

In the middle of the chaos, Warriors, Hyrule, and Twilight were like shadows slipping through the edges of the fray. Armed with their enchanted wooden weapons, they moved quickly and silently. The daggers and short swords, deceptively simple-looking, cut through Emilio’s men without a hint of hesitation.

“Stay quiet, stay fast,” Warriors muttered to Hyrule as he ducked low, slashing the back of a man’s legs before delivering a swift finishing blow. “We can’t let them regroup.”

“On it,” Hyrule replied, his dagger already sinking into another opponent’s side. His movements were light and precise, almost like he was dancing around the chaos.

Twilight moved alongside them, his short sword cutting a clean arc through the air. “These guys are persistent,” he said through gritted teeth, ducking a swing and jabbing his blade into a man’s chest.

“Yeah, well, they don’t know who they’re messing with,” Warriors shot back, deflecting a strike and kicking his attacker hard enough to send him sprawling.

Meanwhile, Legend was a blur of motion, merging into the walls like a ghost thanks to his bracelet. Every time Emilio’s men thought they had him cornered, he’d reappear behind them, striking with brutal efficiency before fading back into the stone.

“Gotta admit,” Legend muttered under his breath, stepping out of a wall to grab a man’s throat before slamming him to the ground, “this is kinda fun.” He disappeared again, only his faint laughter trailing behind as more of Emilio’s men fell.

Overhead, Wild perched in the shadows of a balcony, his bow drawn tight. He had his eyes on Emilio, watching as the man barked orders and rallied his remaining allies.

“Emilio’s sticking close to the west hall,” Wild said through the comms, notching an arrow tipped with a makeshift wooden head. “But he’s got a lot of backup.”

“Keep him pinned,” Time ordered back. “We’re handling things on this end.”

“Got it,” Wild replied, taking aim at a particularly loud ally of Emilio’s. He let the arrow fly, grinning when it hit its mark right between the man’s shoulders. The target dropped with a grunt, and Wild ducked lower, quickly nocking another arrow.

Another group of Emilio’s men was rushing toward the kitchens, and Wild couldn’t let them get too close. He took another shot, this time hitting a man in the leg, sending him sprawling and causing the group to scatter.

“They’re slowing down,” Wild said into the comms. “But Emilio’s not backing off. He’s sending more men your way.”

“We’ll handle it,” Warriors replied, his voice sharp as he slashed through another attacker. “Just keep him busy.”

“Don’t worry,” Wild said, a smirk in his voice. “I’ve got it covered.”

The Chain worked seamlessly, their movements efficient and purposeful, each strike calculated to thin the enemy ranks. Even in the chaos, they were perfectly in sync, and while Emilio’s men were persistent, they were no match for the skill and coordination of Hyrule’s finest.

In the middle of it all, Time’s calm voice cut through the comms. “No mistakes. Stay sharp. We’re not leaving until she’s safe.”

“Roger that,” Legend muttered, slipping back into the walls to finish off another target. The Chain pressed on, their only objective was making sure (y/n) was safe from this place.

The dimly lit kitchen was eerily quiet for a moment, the sounds of shouting and chaos muffled behind the thick walls. Sky and Wind stood near the doors, their weapons ready, while Time kept his cane in hand, standing protectively in front of (y/n).

“Stay close.” Time instructed, his voice calm but firm.

Before (y/n) could even nod, the door to the kitchen slammed open, and Emilio’s men poured in. Time moved without hesitation, swinging his cane with surprising force. The enchanted wood slammed into the first man’s chest, sending him sprawling into the counter.

Sky stepped forward, his sword cutting through the air with a clean precision that sent two more men staggering back. “Keep moving!” he shouted, his gaze darting to Wind.

Wind grinned, brandishing his dagger as he dashed forward, darting between two attackers and tripping one with a swift kick before driving his blade into the other’s arm. “Not so tough now, are ya?”

As the fight raged, another man appeared from the shadows, moving silently toward Time. The older man was focused on the two men in front of him, his cane spinning in fluid, powerful arcs.

The figure behind him raised a knife, his steps quiet…too quiet. Time didn’t notice.

But (y/n) did.

“Time!” she shouted, her voice shaking as adrenaline kicked in. Without thinking, she grabbed the nearest heavy object, a large iron pot from the stove, and rushed forward.

The man didn’t even have time to turn before (y/n) brought the pot down with all her strength.

CLANG!

The sound echoed through the kitchen as the man crumpled to the ground, the knife slipping from his hand. (y/n) stood there, panting and wide-eyed, the pot still gripped tightly in her hands.

Time turned, his visible eye widening briefly as he took in the scene. The would-be attacker lay unconscious at his feet, and behind him stood (y/n), looking more shocked than he’d ever seen her.

“Nice one!” Wind called out, laughing as he deflected another strike.

“Not bad, (y/n).” Sky said with a faint grin, his sword taking down another attacker.

Time stepped closer to her, his expression softening just slightly as he placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. “You alright?”

“Uh… yeah,” she breathed out, still clutching the pot like a lifeline. “I think so.”

“Good,” Time said with a small, amused smile. “You might want to put the pot down, though.”

(y/n) blinked, glancing at the pot in her hands before letting it clatter to the floor. She exhaled deeply, her shoulders relaxing.

“I knew hanging around you would lead to something like this,” she muttered, glancing up at Time. “You owe me for ruining my night.”

“That’s fair.” Time said, his tone light as he turned back to the chaos, his cane swinging again.

But as another wave of men stormed in, (y/n) couldn’t help but glance at the pot again.

Maybe she wasn’t entirely done with it just yet.

——

——

The night air outside the gala was tense, Emilio stomping toward a black car parked at the curb with his men in tow. His face was twisted with anger, and his voice boomed over the chaos still brewing inside.

“Find them! Take them out! How the hell are they winning?!” he snarled, jabbing a finger in the direction of the building. “They’re a small group! They shouldn’t even be a threat!”

His men nodded, scattering to follow his orders as Emilio climbed into the car. In his hand, he held a small, sleek switch, his thumb hovering over the button. A grim smile spread across his face as he stared back at the building.

“It’s a shame I didn’t get to speak more with that girl,” he muttered, almost to himself, though the venom in his tone remained. “But that’s how it goes. And as for Time-that fool! His death will be an example to everyone of what happens when you cross me.”

With that, Emilio pressed the button.

He stared at the building, waiting for the fireworks, for the grand finale that would erase all evidence of the Chain and everyone else inside.

Nothing happened.

Emilio frowned, pressing the button again. Still nothing.

He leaned forward in his seat, pressing it a third time, then a fourth, his frustration mounting with each click. “What the hell is going on?” he snapped, slamming the switch down on the seat beside him.

One of his men leaned into the car. “Sir?”

“WHERE are the explosives?! WHY isn’t this working?!” Emilio barked, grabbing the man by his jacket.

Before the man could respond, another voice called out from the crowd. “Boss! We’ve got a problem!”

Emilio shoved his current victim aside, stepping out of the car. “What now?”

The man hesitated, clearly nervous, but eventually spoke up. “Several of our bases… they’ve just exploded. Reports are coming in one after another, everything’s gone!”

For a moment, Emilio froze, the weight of the words sinking in. Then it clicked.

His face darkened, a snarl curling on his lips. “Time. That bastard knew. He knew what I was planning!”

He turned, glaring in the direction of the building, his fists clenched so tight his knuckles turned white. It all made sense now-the calm demeanor, the subtle arrogance. Time had been playing him the entire night, and he’d walked right into it.

Emilio’s glare could’ve set the building on fire if it hadn’t already been rigged to blow. “Get me out of here,” he growled, voice low and seething.

“But sir, what about—”

“I SAID GET ME OUT OF HERE!” he roared, cutting his man off.

With that, Emilio climbed back into the car, slamming the door behind him. As the vehicle sped away from the scene, he stared out the window, his mind racing with a mix of fury and humiliation.

This wasn’t over. Not by a long shot.

——

——

The group finally burst out into the cool night air, (y/n) panting from the running (never good with heels). They stumbled past the remnants of the chaos, adrenaline pumping as the sound of distant shouting faded behind them. Several sleek black cars, headlights cutting through the dark, pulled up in front of them.

Four leaned out the driver’s side window of the lead car, his expression calm but his eyes sharp as ever. “Get in. Now.”

Behind his car, other vehicles packed with their men pulled up, forming a protective barrier between them and the building.

Without hesitation, Time opened the back door and ushered (y/n) in first, followed by Wind and Sky. He slid in last, pulling the door shut behind him. Four hit the gas, and the car sped off, the others falling into formation behind them.

(y/n) leaned her head back against the seat, trying to catch her breath. Her heart was racing, her arms still trembling. “Oh, come on!” she finally burst out, her voice cracking with exhaustion and frustration. “Of course Emilio’s mafia! Of course nothing in this stupid city is normal!”

Sky, seated next to her, glanced over with a small, understanding smile. He reached out and gently placed his hand on hers, giving it a reassuring squeeze. His calm voice broke through her spiraling thoughts. “Hey, you’re safe now. That’s what matters. Just breathe. You did great back there.”

Her breathing slowed as his words settled over her, her grip on the pot starting to loosen-until Sky tilted his head slightly and added, “Though… you’re still holding onto the iron pot.”

(y/n) blinked, looking down at the pot like she’d forgotten it was there. Her shoulders sagged as she stared at it for a long moment. Then, in a flat, deadpan voice, she looked back up at Sky and said, “I’m keeping it.”

Wind, sitting in the far seat, tried to stifle his laughter through the comms. “She’s adopting a kitchen utensil. Classic.”

Four’s voice cut in over the car’s speaker, dry as ever. “It’s probably sturdier than most of our weapons at this point.”

(y/n) huffed and hugged the pot closer to her chest, glaring at the lot of them. “You laugh now, but this pot saved Time’s life. It’s earned its place.”

Sky held up his hands in surrender, smiling softly. “Fair enough. Just don’t name it.”

(y/n) grumbled, muttering something about ‘Stainless Steve’ under her breath as the car sped toward safety.

——

——

The car ride back was filled with (y/n)’s assurances that she was fine, though she kept hugging the iron pot like a security blanket. “Seriously, guys, I’m fine,” she said for the third time, looking between Time, Sky, and Four. “No one died, I didn’t get shot, and I’m home safe. That’s a win in my book.”

Sky gave her a worried glance, but (y/n) waved him off. “I’ll call you in the morning, Time.” she promised, her voice tired but steady. “If there’s any trouble tonight, just let me know.”

Time nodded, his expression softening just a bit. “We’ll be fine. I will always worry. You just get some rest.”

As Four pulled up to her house, (y/n) got out with the iron pot still in her hands, giving the group a tired wave as they drove off. She smiled faintly when she saw Wind hanging halfway out the window, waving enthusiastically. “Bye, (y/n)!” he shouted, “Happy New Year!” only to yelp as Sky yanked him back into the car by the collar.

Shaking her head, she walked up to her front door, unlocked it, and stepped inside. Her mom was there in the living room, walking over with a warm smile. “Hey, sweetie. How was the gala?”

At that, (y/n) sniffled, her resolve finally cracking. She pressed her face into her mom’s shoulder, shaking as the weight of the night caught up with her. Her mom froze for a second, surprised, before wrapping her arms around her daughter. She could feel the dampness on her shoulder and (y/n)’s quiet sniffles.

Whatever happened, her baby needed comfort, so she just held her tighter.

“What’s wrong, honey?” her mom asked softly.

“Mmmph,” (y/n) mumbled into her shoulder.

Her mom tilted her head, stroking her hair. “What was that?”

Pulling her face away just enough to be heard, (y/n) blurted out, “I’m friends with absolute jerks!”

Her mom blinked in confusion, only for (y/n) to launch into a tired, almost comical rant. “Do you know what happens every time I’m with them? Shenanigans! Absolute shenanigans! I knew I should’ve stayed home, Mom. I knew it!”

Her mom blinked again, trying to figure out if she was supposed to be concerned or amused. It didn’t sound like (y/n) was actually upset, more like she was venting out of sheer frustration.

Finally, (y/n) sighed deeply, slumping her shoulders. “I just needed to get that out of my system,” she admitted.

Her mom gave her another hug, patting her back. “Well, good news-you’re just in time to celebrate New Year’s with us!”

(y/n) blinked, pulling back slightly. “What? Mom, it’s after midnight.”

As if on cue, her younger sister Jack walked by, picked up the wall clock and turned it around, manually turning it back an hour. “Dinner’s almost ready.” Jack called out bluntly before disappearing into the kitchen.

Their dad walked in next, pulling (y/n) into a big bear hug. “Go change and get comfortable,” he said with a grin. “I got your favorite sparklers and cake. We’re celebrating properly tonight.”

Tears welled up in (y/n)’s eyes again, but this time they were happy ones. She nodded, her body finally relaxing completely. “Thanks, Dad.” she whispered, her voice soft but grateful.

“Anything for my girl.” he said, ruffling her hair before walking off to help Jack in the kitchen.

(y/n) sniffled again, looking between her mom, dad, and sister, feeling the tension of the night finally ease away.

This.

This was exactly what she needed.

So much better than going to a Gala.

….

She wasn’t gonna get school credit for going, UGH!

—-

The chain was gathered back at their base, still tense but trying to regroup. Everyone was either sitting around the meeting table or leaning against walls, tired but alert. Four had his laptop open, typing away as the others traded updates on the night.

“Emilio didn’t even follow us,” Sky said, breaking the silence. “It didn’t sit right. He’s not the type to just let something go.”

“He didn’t need to.” Warriors muttered, arms crossed. “He thought he had us.”

Wild, sitting on the edge of the table, raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean?”

Four looked up from his laptop, his face grim. “Our men sent over some footage. Emilio wasn’t following us because he had other plans.”

He turned the laptop toward the group and hit play. The room went silent as Emilio’s face filled the screen, furious and shouting at his men. His words hit like a punch to the gut.

“Find them! Take them out!” Emilio yelled in the video, holding a switch in his hand. “They’re nothing! A small group of fools, and they’re winning? Kill them all! Bury them in rubble!”

Time’s face was unreadable, but his grip on his cane tightened as the footage showed Emilio pressing the button repeatedly. The room stayed silent as the realization sank in.

“That bastard planted explosives,” Twilight said, his voice low and dangerous. “He was going to take out the whole building.”

“He was going to take us all out,” Sky corrected, his voice tight. “Everyone in that building…gone.”

“(Y/n) was in there,” Wild said, his tone sharp. “She would’ve-“

“She didn’t,” Time cut him off, his voice calm but heavy. “None of us did.”

“But why didn’t it happen?” Hyrule asked, looking around. “The explosives didn’t go off.”

Four turned back to his screen, pulling up another video. “Because while we were dealing with him and his men, someone else was dealing with him too. Watch this.”

The second video showed Emilio again, but this time, his rage was directed at the switch in his hand. He pressed it over and over, cursing loudly when nothing happened. The scene shifted to chaos,explosions, but not in the gala. It was Emilio’s bases going up in flames.

“No one else was targeted,” Four said, leaning back in his chair. “Whoever did this wanted Emilio to lose everything. And they did it.”

The group sat in stunned silence, watching the flames consume Emilio’s properties on the screen.

“Whoever this was,” Legend said after a moment, his tone uneasy, “they were…thorough.”

“And they knew exactly what they were doing,” Warriors added. “They waited for the perfect moment.”

“But why?” Wind asked, his voice almost a whisper. “Why go after Emilio like that? And why not target us?”

He paused and stared at the footage again.

“….Heck of a way to start the new year ya know.”

“Indeed.” Time said, his gaze dropping to the table, his thoughts clearly turning. “We weren’t the target. Not tonight. ”

Sky let out a slow breath, running a hand through his hair. “So Emilio was outplayed. Completely blindsided. But by who?”

“We don’t know,” Four admitted. “No patterns, no leads, nothing. At least not yet.

“But if Emilio’s plan had worked…” Hyrule’s voice trailed off, the weight of what could’ve been hanging in the air. “We wouldn’t be here.”

“Especially (y/n),” Twilight said quietly. “She wouldn’t have made it out in time.”

Time stood up, his cane steady as he looked around the room. “We don’t tell her. Not now. She doesn’t need to know how close it was.”

The others nodded reluctantly, though the unease was clear. Whoever had stepped in tonight had saved them, but it didn’t feel like a favor. It felt like a warning. And no one liked that one bit.

——

The living room was quiet except for the low hum of the TV playing some badly made movie no one cared to finish. (Y/n) and Jack were curled up on the couch, fast asleep. Leftover snacks were scattered on the coffee table, and a few stray crumbs clung to the blanket draped over them.

The mist floated in silently, barely noticeable as it moved around the room. It paused by the couch, hovering over (y/n) like it was studying her. A soft, almost musical chime sounded, so faint it could’ve been mistaken for part of the movie.

“Warmth… Home… Heart…” The words were barely a whisper, carried on an unseen breeze as the mist seemed to brighten slightly. It moved closer to (y/n), swirling gently around her before stopping by the blanket.

The blanket shifted, as though an invisible hand was carefully pulling it up to cover both her and Jack properly. The air felt warmer, cozier, as if the room itself was tucking them in.

“Keep safe…always…”

A quiet giggle echoed, soft and playful, as the mist swirled one last time. Then it vanished, leaving no trace but the lingering sense of comfort. It wasn’t gone, though. It was there, watching over (y/n), ready to protect her all night long.

The room settled back into stillness, with only the flickering light of the TV casting shadows over the peaceful scene.

———

(Happy New Year folks!)

[zepskies]

Never Say Goodbye - Part 4

Pairing: Dean x Female Reader 

Summary: The first time you and Dean sensed each other’s thoughts and feelings, you were just kids. It would take years to realize that you both were bonded for life, and even longer to finally meet. [Soulmate AU] (Rated M for eventual scenes – 18+)

Word Count: 4,400 Warnings: Language, cliffhangers (lol). 

Part 4: Guessing Game

The next morning was a Wednesday. Despite the monumental, life-changing things that happened yesterday, unfortunately, you still had to go to work. You also had three class finals to finish.

Still, you woke invigorated with a new energy you had never felt before because you had finally, finally met your soulmate.

…Okay, not so much met him, but at least you had shared a telepathic conversation! That still counted!

…No matter how actually insane that sounded.

So you got ready for your day with an added pep in your step. You dressed “work casual”: white blouse tucked into a black skirt, tights because of the cold, black boots, and your favorite red winter coat. It hung to about your knees, so it would protect your legs. You even had the energy to put on some makeup and style your hair a little, fixing the frizzy kinks into some smoother waves down your back.

You looked into the mirror and you felt proud of your reflection. Not just how you looked, but of how you were able to carry yourself with your head held high. 

With your purse and books gathered, you ventured downstairs and found your dad already puttering through the kitchen. You accepted the mug of coffee he offered and sipped at it while you packed a lunch.

Hmm, getting low on groceries. I’ll have to swing by the store on the way home, you thought.

There was one other thing that snagged in your mind, and that was having to reschedule your visit with Bobby. After you “hung up” with your soulmate (who frustratingly refused to give you his name yet), you realized how late it was and called your uncle for a rain check. But you fully intended to keep your word and visit him today, after work.

Now, you eyed your dad as he read the paper at the small kitchen nook. You took your coffee and sat down across from him (you still had a few minutes before you had to leave). 

“How’s the world?” you asked him, nodding at the newspaper.

“Great,” he replied dryly. “Just one big dumpster fire.”

The corner of your mouth quirked upwards. “Any local flames?”

Jack sighed and lowered the paper, meeting her eyes. “Unfortunately, yes. You carry pepper spray, don’t you?”

You nodded. “Of course.”  

“And your handgun? Where’d you put it?” he asked. You frowned. 

Your father was a cop and this was the Midwest. You did have a concealed carrier’s permit, but you weren’t allowed to have your gun on you at school, so you typically stored it in the nightstand by your bed. Jack knew that.

“What’s going on?” you asked. 

“There’s been a series of home invasions across town, two of them in our neighborhood,” he said, giving you a firm look. “Watch yourself when you leave the house, when you head to your car, when you leave campus.”

“I know, Dad,” you replied. “By the way…are you planning on going to see Mom today? I didn’t get a chance to go yesterday, so we could go together if you want.”

You were attempting to lend an olive branch after yesterday’s argument. Jack, however, wasn’t getting the hint. 

“I can’t.” He shook his head and tapped at the newspaper headline. “I’m actually heading this case…most of these have been what we call ‘push-ins.’”

“What’s a push-in?” you asked. You could guess, but you didn’t like how serious your dad was right now.

“Let’s say someone knocks at the door. You’re not expecting anyone, not even the pizza guy. What do you do?” Jack asked. 

“Check who it is through the peephole,” you answer.

“What if your door doesn’t have one?”

This was easy. Your father had drilled this into you since you were eight years old. “Ask who it is through the door. Don’t open it unless you know them, or unless you can smell pizza through the door crack.”

“Good. Most people will just open the door without checking,” Jack said. “The guy shoves his way in and attacks you. That’s a push-in.”

Goddamn. You didn't know there was a name for that. 

“And how many of these have happened so far?” you asked.

“Four that we know of,” he replied. “It hasn’t hit the news yet but…Mrs. Jenkins was killed last night. We found the poor thing literally clutching her pearls.”

You blanched, setting down your coffee. Shock hit you first, then sadness. Mrs. Jenkins was the sweet old lady who used to make cookies for Sunday school when you were a kid. She’d given you $50 for college textbooks when you graduated from high school, and then flowers when you graduated with your bachelor’s degree. 

Your eyes burned with emotion. “I can’t believe it. He was after her pearls?”

“I imagine she didn’t want to give ‘em up,” Jack said. “Or she held on out of reflex. When you’re afraid, logic tends to fly out the window.”

You understood that, but you couldn’t believe she’d died for her jewelry. You rubbed the silver ring on your right hand and rationalized to yourself. You knew you could give up your mom’s ring if it meant the difference between that and a bullet in your brain.

Your dad was still telling you to be careful when you left the house that morning. He only nagged and rode your ass about your future career because he cared. You knew that. But the nagging was a test of your ever-thinning patience. 

Once you got on the road, you had an hour to kill on your commute. Then a flash of an idea occurred to you, making you smile. With a deep breath, you sought that thread of energy inside your mind. You didn’t know if this would work. It wouldn’t be long until you were driving away from Sioux Falls and headed to Vermillion, but you hoped the connection would win out.

The thread brightened with your focus on it, and suddenly you could feel him. Your soulmate. 

Good morning, sleepyhead, you greeted cheerfully. His response was more sluggish.

No, it ain’t.  

His grumpy voice made you laugh. Aw, someone’s grouchy in the morning.

This lumpy couch killed my back, he complained. And I could hear my brother’s snoring from downstairs.

So he had a brother. That was an interesting tidbit of information you’d save for later. You smiled. 

You’re a cute grouch.

Excuse me, princess. I’m not a “cute” anything. He sounded mildly offended, but you sensed he was just as amused as you. 

So what’s your brother’s name? you asked.

He hesitated, but eventually he replied, His name’s Sam. 

Okay, so his brother’s name was safe, but his name had to be a mystery. And his job. That annoyed you, though you supposed it was part of the game.

What’re you up to? he asked. 

On my way to work. 

Oh, yeah? What do you do?

Even though you shook your head at the hypocrisy of his question, you decided to answer honestly. Well, I’m finishing up grad school next semester. This week is finals, then we break until January. But I also work part-time for one of my professors as her assistant.

Look at you, he said with a whistle. Beauty and brains.

You quirked a smile. If only your dad were that impressed. Technically you haven’t confirmed the “beauty” bit. I could be a potato with legs for all you know.

You sensed rather than heard his laughter.

Nah, a voice that sexy can’t be Potato Girl. 

You blushed up to your ears at that one. No one had ever described your voice that way. Quiet, mousy yes—and mainly by Dr. Birch—but never sexy.

Your soulmate was definitely a flirt, if nothing else. 

Hmm, you had that line locked and loaded, didn’t you?

Nope. That was fresh, sweetheart, he said. I’m just that creative. 

Sure, you laughed again. It’s already 9:00 a.m. Don’t you have somewhere to be?

Yeah, now that you mention it. I’ve gotta get going to work too.

That was disappointing, but at least you’d learned something new. Your soulmate wasn’t a morning person, and he had a brother.

Do you and your brother both have the same mystery job?

…Yeah, actually. We work together, he said. Good question, Nancy Drew. 

Yes! You smiled in triumph. 

You made a few more guesses about his job: police officer, teacher, leader of a biker gang—all of which were apparently wrong. 

But keep ‘em comin’, he said. You’ll get it eventually.

You let out an annoyed huff. But then you felt his amusement, like he was genuinely enjoying himself while talking with you. That warmed you up enough for now.

After a long day at the university, you relished coming home knowing you only had two more days until winter break. 

You stopped at the grocery store on the way home, like you’d planned, but now you regretted it. There were only two cashiers open despite a packed store. Ugh. Just my luck.

You chose the one that didn’t have a screaming child throwing his mother’s apples out of the cart, but you did stop to help her pick them up. 

“Thanks, hun,” she said tiredly. You nodded with a sympathetic smile.

“How old is he?” you asked.

“Two and a half,” she said. You tried to hide your reaction, but she gave a wry smile and returned to her child.

Good luck, you wanted to say, but you kept that yourself and returned to your cart. As the line inched forward, you wondered if you wanted kids. 

Never really thought about it before, you could admit. You supposed there was a lot to consider, but maybe most importantly: It has to be with the right person.

You wondered if your soulmate was that person, or if having kids one day (or not) was going to be a dealbreaker for him.

Then you snorted, shaking your head. Okay, you’re getting very ahead of yourself. You haven’t even met the man.

“Hey, look who it is!” 

The cashier’s voice startled you from your thoughts. When you broke out of your reverie, you realized you were at the front of the line, and Danny Schmitt was once again your checkout guy. Part of you withered, but you tried at a polite smile as you busied yourself by emptying your cart on the conveyer belt. “Hey, Danny. How’re you doing?”

“Been good. And yourself? You look good,” he said. He wasn’t very discreet about checking you out. You blushed, but more from discomfort than flattery. 

“Thanks,” you said, a bit awkwardly, and started bagging the groceries he rang up.

“What have you been up to?” he asked. “Every time I see you, you’re dressed up like you’re goin’ to a Broadway show or something.”

Broadway? You glanced down at your work casual blouse and skirt. To the movie theater, maybe. Less Mamma Mia and more Magic Mike.  

“I like it though. Skirt and boots, always a sexy combo,” Danny said, and gave you a wink. You had no doubt that many a girl had swooned at the move, but you were less charmed and more annoyed. You finished bagging your stuff and paid with your credit card in silence.

The high school version of yourself would’ve blushed at Danny’s attention. After stapling his fingers together in freshman year, he’d gone through a growth spurt the next. He’d joined the wrestling team, and paired with his light blonde hair and square jaw, the girls hadn’t stopped stumbling over themselves to get with him. 

After high school, though, Danny didn’t get that sports scholarship for college. It also looked like he didn’t have the drive for anything else, either. He’d worked this same job at the Piggly Wiggly since you graduated six years ago.

All right, check your privilege, you reminded yourself, feeling guilty for judging him. Not everyone’s cut out for college. You don’t even know exactly what you want to do with your life.

“Have a good one,” he said, handing you the receipt. “And hey, let me know if you want to get a coffee sometime, or dinner. Flannigan’s has a two-for-one special on beer pitchers…I’ll pay. Or, you know, we could split it. You know, equality and all that. Hell, even you could pay if you wanted to.” He laughed.

Tempting, you thought. Though you’d have to remember about that two-for-one special. Uncle Bobby might want to make that your beer pilgrimage tonight.

“You know, I’ve been pretty busy lately,” you said, trying your best at a smile. “But I’ll let you know!”

Maybe it was rude of you, but you didn’t give him a chance to reply as you took your cart and waved goodbye.

Bobby welcomed you into his home, with what could only be described as a “gruff smile.” You shed your winter coat, but finding no hooks on the wall, you just draped it over the back of the living room couch.

“Come in,” he beckoned with a hand. “Don’t mind the mess. I was just finishing up some…work.”

Indeed, there were several books strewn across the coffee table, the dining table, the little accent table next to the couch—basically every available space in the living room was covered with books, manuscripts, and loose papers. Your eyes scanned over some of them. Raising a brow, you picked up one of the books. 

“Omens, Trials, and Tribulations: A Guided Study on the Book of Revelation,” you read, and gave Bobby a curious look. “Doing some light reading alongside the New King James?” 

Bobby shrugged. “It’s a hobby.”

Somehow you didn’t think that was the whole story, but you smiled in amusement. Then you noticed some rumpled bed sheets on the couch, a green duffle bag dumped on the floor. 

“Do you have someone staying over? Should I come back another day?” you asked.

“Nah, I’ve got a couple of knuckleheads staying over, but they’re not here right now,” he said. “I sent them to work on somethin’.”

“Oh, towing a car for you?” you asked. 

“More like, checking out a possible job,” he explained, though that didn’t really explain anything at all. It left you even more curious as you got the sense he was leaving something out again, but you didn’t press it. Instead, you followed him into the kitchen.

“Want a beer?” he asked.

“That’s why I’m here,” you joked. “Dad drinks ‘em like a fish. By the time I get home, the fridge is damn-near empty.”

“How is he?” Bobby handed you the beer and you took it gratefully. 

“He’s the same. Buried in cases. I made him something before I left, for when he gets home,” you replied. Then you sighed and sat down at the two-seater table in the kitchen. “He didn’t even go to visit Mom on the anniversary.”

Just then, you realized something. You hadn’t actually visited Mom either, because you’d been distracted…hearing your soulmate’s thoughts for the first time. 

Damn it… 

Well, in this case your mom would probably forgive you, but you felt guilty all the same. You slid your ring around your finger absently.

Bobby sat across from you at the table. “The past can be a hard thing to let go of, but the real bitch of it is, it’s also hard remembering.”

You nodded in agreement. 

“How’re you doin’ then?” he asked. Instead of a customary fine, or busy, you actually thought about it. 

“Yesterday…I don’t know. I felt stuck. Like, I was hanging onto the train but I wasn’t in the driver’s seat,” you admitted. “Today, I woke up and things were different.”

“That’s specific,” Bobby remarked. You shot him a wry smile. 

“I don’t know. I’ve spent a long time just, like…trudging through the snow. Trying to keep the flurries out of my eyes,” you said. “But for the first time, I feel like I can see the sun, you know? There’s a reason to hope things might change. Like something good is coming my way.”

Bobby’s mouth lifted into a subtle grin. “Very poetic. You should think about writin’ for Hallmark.” 

You uttered an incredulous laugh. “All right. See if I pour my heart out to you again. God.”

“My apologies, princess,” Bobby said dryly. “Okay. In all seriousness, you’ve got a lot goin’ for ya, kid. You’ve got a right to be optimistic.”

You nodded with a superior smile. “Thank you.”  

“Listen, I’ve got a lasagna waiting in the oven. You want any part of that?” he asked. 

Your uncle was asking if you wanted to stay for dinner. You considered it and realized he was trying to connect with you. It wasn’t the first time he’d offered, and you regretted declining his loose invitations in the past. 

“Sure,” you said. “Lasagna sounds great.”

“All right.” He nodded. “Gimme a sec.”

 You had never understood the seemingly one-sided animosity between your dad and your uncle. Sure, Bobby was known as the town drunk. He’d gotten arrested a few times for publicly intoxicated antics, but he wasn’t belligerent. He wasn’t a bad man by any means. 

“You know, speaking of Italian. I like making spaghetti and meatballs, the latter from scratch,” you said. “Maybe I could make some next time.”

Bobby glanced over at you with a bit of surprise. “Uh…sure.”

You smiled. 

Later, as you and Bobby shared a meal together, you caught up on safe subjects, like how his business was going. He likewise asked you about your job. You admitted Dr. Birch was driving you up the wall this week. She’d asked you to grade two more of her classes’ final exams, putting you behind on your thesis draft. 

But then you drew enough courage to delve into not-so-safe subjects.

“All right, I’ve gotta know,” you said. “Why the hell did you and my dad fall out, Bobby? What is this thing?”

Bobby looked very reluctant. “It’s complicated.”

You stared back at him for a moment. Curiosity was eating at you, but you didn’t want to push either. Today was going well. Maybe it was better not to spoil it. 

“Complicated,” you echoed, smiling ruefully. “Right.”

After you two finished dinner and the dishes were cleared, you thanked Bobby and surprised him with a hug. His arms came around you briefly before you both let go, just a little awkwardly. 

You put on your coat and headed out the door, until his voice stopped you on the porch. 

“Look, regardless of where your dad and I stand, you’re family,” Bobby said. “You’re always welcome here.”

You gave a warm smile. “Thanks, Uncle Bobby.”

Then you returned to your Camaro and drove away from Singer Salvage, waving to his through your window as you went. 

You made a left at the main road going west, so you didn’t see the black Impala come in from the east road, turning into Bobby’s driveway.

“What were those smooth wheels doing pulling out of this junk heap?” Dean jabbed a thumb behind him as he and Sam came into the house. They’d gotten nothing from that potential lead on John Winchester’s whereabouts, and neither of them were in a great mood. But the smell of food cheered up both of them, especially Dean.

“What?” Bobby asked.

“That blue ’93 Camaro Z28 that just peeled outta here. She was nice,” Dean said. Sam glanced at him, impressed. Dean smirked, an Aw, yeah, I know my shit kind of look.

Bobby smiled in amusement. “My niece stopped by for dinner.”

Sam shared a look of mild surprise with Dean, who said, “That’s a shame. Would’ve liked to meet her.”

Bobby shot him a warning look. “Down, boy. Like you need any help findin’ dance partners.” 

Dean grinned. Sam nearly rolled his eyes. 

“The lead didn’t pan out,” Sam said. “So we’re gonna head out in the morning, if that’s all right.”

“Fine,” Bobby shrugged. “Drink my beer, eat my food, and run up my water bill. Just do me a favor and clean up after yourselves. I don’t need a roach infestation.” 

“What, don’t you think the rats need company?” Dean teased. Bobby raised a warning finger at him, making Dean hold back a laugh.

Bobby went upstairs for bed soon after, and Dean gave Sam first shower this time. It was good timing too…

Dean realized he could hear his soulmate again. 

 You were rocking out to a Billy Joel song.

He smirked. Figures.

As you drove home blasting “We Didn’t Start the Fire,” you chanted along with the long verses, sometimes forgetting words, sometimes stumbling and saying them wrong. But you came in strong with the part you knew: We didn’t start the fiiire. It was always buuurnin’ since the world’s been tuuurnin’—

Figures, your soulmate’s voice cut through everything else. It almost startled you, but feeling his amusement made you blush hotly. 

He laughed, and it was a rich sound that made something flutter in your stomach. 

Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt the performance. But come on, ‘80s pop?

You scoffed. All right, Mr. Power Ballad. Billy Joel is pop rock.

Gotta say, I expected better from you, sweetheart, he teased.

Ugh, you sound like such an old man. Tell me you don��t just listen to mullet rock, you rejoined. 

All right. Let’s take an inventory, shall we? he challenged. ACDC. Led Zeppelin. Boston.

You made a face as you continued to drive through your hometown. You knew these streets like the back of your hand, even in the pitch black of eleven at night. 

Yes to Zeppelin. The other two are…loud, you said. You heard him sigh, but he accepted this.

Fine, how about Hendrix?

Absolutely. You smiled. I take your Hendrix and raise you Prince and Beyonce.

Prince, yes. You can keep Beyonce, he said. Sorry, I’m not Team BeyHive.

You chortled in response. The fact that you know what that means give me hope. At least you’re aware that you live in the 2000s. 

Whatever. I was raised on two things: classic rock and the open road.

His grumpiness was entertaining, but this gave you an excellent opportunity to play your little game.

The open road, huh? Are you some kind of traveling salesman? you asked.

Definitely not.

Hmm. Perhaps he sensed your frustration. He surprised you by giving you a hint.

Travel is part of it though.

Aha! I knew it.

Oh yeah? How?

This morning you said you were sleeping on a couch, you began. You typically don’t do that if you’re not at home in your bed. So I could assume you were traveling, and you had to work today. But I didn’t know you had to travel often for work until you just said it.

You felt proud of your deductive reasoning. So now I know that you and your brother have the same job. It’s unlikely you live in Sioux Falls. And you travel often for work.

Dean whistled lowly. Damn, girl. Somehow you’re reminding me of Sam right now…what are you studying again?

You noted a brief tendril of sadness from him, being quickly brushed off. You didn’t dwell on it, but you would make a mental note of it for later, maybe.

History, you replied.

Oh, okay. Gonna be a teacher or something?

I…don’t really know yet. I’ve been scoping out jobs…

You’ve almost got two degrees and you don’t know what you wanna do with ‘em?

All right, that was hitting a nerve. 

“You know what? Don’t change the subject!” you said. Realizing you said that out loud, you made sure to think it at him this time.

You don’t live in Sioux Falls right? Or South Dakota even? you added.

Look at you go, little miss detective, he replied. You thought he enjoyed teasing you a bit too much. No, I don’t live here. But a family friend does.

Okay, so that narrowed it down to everything.

You turned the street corner into your neighborhood. The streetlights were sparse here ever since the last snowstorm knocked them out. Your dad had talked about installing ground lights in the front lawn for years, but he’d never gotten around to it. His job was too demanding to take care of much at home, which left you with most of the responsibility. Sometimes you wondered how your mom did it…

Anyway, back to the game. 

Plumber, electrician, flight attendant? You guessed. You had a feeling from the way he talked about your schooling that he hadn’t gone to college. You didn’t mind that. If this stupid game was anything to go by, it sounded like he had an interesting way of making a living. 

Nope to all three, especially the last one. Ugh.

Goddamn it. Okay, do you own a business?

You could say that. It’s a family business, he said. There was a playful note to this voice, as if he was dancing around the truth.

Dear Lord. All right, a family business… 

It was probably something small-scale. A diner? Hardware store? 

It’s not a physical store. More like a…a service.

You were getting warmer! With a smile, you made your way down your street and pulled your car into the driveway. Surprise, surprise, your dad wasn’t home yet.

Got it. You nodded. Okay, truck driver. Service engineer, electrician…oh shit, I said that earlier. Hmm…exterminator?

You grabbed your purse and finally got out of your car. You’d made it all the way to your front door when you realized that your soulmate had gone quiet. You sensed he was thinking, contemplating. 

You nearly bounced in excitement as you unlocked the door to your house. I’m right, aren’t I? Which one?

After stepping inside and closing the door behind you, you turned on the hallway and living room lights. 

The last one, he said at last. You paused in your excitement, your brows furrowed.

Exterminator. Really? That was curious. Who’d ever heard of a traveling exterminator? Like rats and stuff?

And stuff, he said with a chuckle, but somehow you knew it was hollow. You frowned, until you looked into the living room and noticed something weird. 

A black duffel bag that didn’t look like your dad’s. You don’t remember it being there this morning either. 

Hey, you okay? he asked. You realized that he was probably sensing your confusion. You headed toward the duffel bag. 

Yeah, I just got home—

The moment you set down your purse on the coffee table, a hand closed over your mouth and muffled your scream. 

AN: Yay, cliffhangers! (I promise they'll meet in the next chapter lol.)

Also, I just want to say THANK YOU to all of you reading, reblogging, commenting, etc. I didn't think this little fic would generate that much interest, but getting your feedback is inspiring me to write more!

Keep reading: Part 5.

Series Masterlist

Dean Winchester Masterlist

Main Masterlist

@curlycarley @buckywenal24 @jamerlynn @iprobablyshipit91 @globetrotter28 @deamus-liv @irgendwas122 @deans-spinster-witch @dogbarkbark4445

[so-much-for-the-seashells]

Always

Dean Winchester (Supernatural) x GN!Hunter!Reader

Disclaimers: The only character I own is the reader insert.

Author’s Notes: I’m writing this the day after I swore I’d never do angst. Ironic, huh. I’m working on getting more power across in my words- hopefully that shows.

Anyhow, this is set after <S2 SPOILER> John dies saving Dean. Obviously, given the nature of his passing, Dean can’t talk to Sam about it- but in this story he has someone he can talk to.

Icons by @gosling-girlx !! ❤️❤️

As always, all notes are very much appreciated!

Content/Content Warnings: This is angst at its finest. A 16+ audience would be preferred on this piece.

“What if, for just once in your life, you manned up and actually talked to me?” My voice is loud. It’s booming, and it’s borderline angry. My hands are balled into fists at my sides, and my jaws clenched.

I’m just so done. I try so hard with Dean, and I’m always patient. When he doesn’t want to talk, I don’t pry. I’m there for him whenever he needs me, however he needs me, wherever, at any hour, without so much as a second thought. I’ve never faulted him for not being able to say “I love you,” or for not being gentle when I need him to be. And I will always do these things.

But I am not okay with being told to “Stop fucking doing that,” ‘that’ being me trying to ask him if he’s okay. I let him get away with a lot of things, maybe more than I should, but outright cussing and waving me off? That’s too much.

So fine. We’ve been yelling at each other at least ten minutes now. Far too loud for a shitty motel with paper thin walls, surely, but right now I need him not only to hear me, but to listen to me.

He’s stood down after that last question. His shoulders slumped from their tense posture, his jaw no longer clenched. He’s trying so hard to retain his scowl, but I see the tick in the corner of his mouth. I see the way that his beautiful green eyes start to water.

No matter what cruel things he said to me, I refused to retaliate. He can swear at me all he wants, but he won’t get the same treatment in return. Because nothing can take down the thick walls of the elder Winchester like human decency. Something he’s never properly gotten from anyone- his own father included in that omniscient “anyone.”

“So?” I ask, my hands still fists. I won’t back down until he does, I can’t give him the chance to roll his eyes and turn away like he would with anyone else.

“I-,” his voice gets caught in his throat. “Cause I’m no man, sweetheart. Certainly not man enough for you.”

“Cut the shit, Dean,” the swear slipped out of my lips before I could stop him. I see him flinch, and my heart pangs, fists unclench. Suddenly, I’m not so fired up. “Sorry, sorry. Listen, this isn’t about what you are for me. Because if it was, we wouldn’t be fighting. You’re perfect for me, Dean.”

“Just-,” I stop myself, moving back to sit on one of the dingy hotel beds with its ugly orange gingham duvet. I sit cross-legged, back against the flat puke-green pillows propped against the headboard, looking up at Dean who is still standing in the same spot like a statue. “C’mere,” I pat the bed gently.

He obeys wordlessly, a listless quality to the way he drags his feet to where I’m sat. He doesn’t sit, though, a clear tentativity in his watery eyes. “Dean, it’s okay.”

Okay to cry, I want to add.

Okay to feel.

Okay to be human.

He sighs. “I’m just not good at talking, Y/n. I never had anyone to talk to- my dad was my boss more than anything, I had to- have to- be strong for my brother, and anyone else who’s come into my life seems to fit into one of those two categories.” A singular, perfect tear runs down his face. His expression is stony, but his voice… while as deep as always, it has a broken quality to it, something he’s trying to hide.

“Dean. I’m not anyone. You can talk to me, you can be broken with me,” I urge, mentally willing him to come sit by me so I can touch him, hug him, anything.

Finally, he sits. I don’t reach out to touch him, not yet. He looks shaky.

“Listen. I know Sam’s been up your ass trying to get you to talk about him. I know aren’t big on touchy feely stuff, and I ain’t gonna push you. But I need you to stop lashing out at me when I ask you if you’re okay.”

His cheeks are flushed, eyes wide. His lower lip quivers, finally breaking his scowl. A sad, splintered chuckle leaves his lips. “Y’know, he’d do the same to me. I’d ask, sometimes, after a real bad hunt, and he’d lash out… I’m too much like him, y/n. That’s why I don’t want to talk about him.” His voice is just a little too steady, almost artificial.

“You’re not too much like him, not at all,” I say, reaching out to him, but stopping before my hand can touch his. I’m letting him be the one to pull the trigger, to decide if he wants physical touch right now. “You’re better than he could’ve ever hoped to be, Dean. He knew that. Sam knows that. I know that.”

And that’s what breaks the dam, tears freely falling down his stubbled cheeks. He takes my hand in his, holding tight before I tug at him, inviting him to lay in my lap. He obliges, head resting in my lap. I take initiative to run my fingers through his hair, something that I’ve found soothes him.

“I just-,” his voice is broken, there’s no hiding it now. “I’m sorry.”

“I know,” I murmur. “I just want to help you be okay, that’s all.”

We sit like that for a while, his head in my lap as he cries. He doesn’t sob, but occasionally choked up noises escape him, and it breaks my heart seeing him like this. Eventually, I find it in myself to speak again.

“I know he never really said it, Dean. But he loved you, he did. He trusted you. He was thankful for you,” I tell him, wiping some of the tears off of his face.

John Winchester might’ve been a sorry excuse for a man after Mary died, fine.

But it was clear that he loved his boys, especially Dean, even if it was in his own fucked up way.

I hated the Winchester father. Quite frankly, I still do. For the way that he had put revenge in front of the care of his kids, for the way he treated his kids, even into their adulthood. I mean, making an eight year old take care of a four year old? How bad of a father can you be?

He’s a son of a bitch. But in the end, even though the bastard never once validated his elder son (nor his younger)- and he should’ve- he died for Dean. And I know Dean’ll blame himself for it. But the fact that his dad loved him… that might be enough to make the self-resentment more lenient. That and the fact that he has me.

I won’t let him hate himself or feel unloved. I think John knew that- that Dean would have far better support if he was gone. I’m know he knew how much Dean respected and idolized him, but I also know damn well that he knew damn well that he was not good enough for his son. Not nearly good enough.

So hopefully, between me and Sam, we can mend the hole in his heart. Help him feel whole again.

But for now he needs this. To cry, to feel. Something he never felt he could, not in the presence of anyone else.

Gradually the tears slow to a stop. He sniffles, wiping his face, but not moving his head from my lap. “Thank you,” he whispers.

“Always,” I lean down and kiss him on the forehead. “I mean that.”

“I love you.”

There’s no stutter or pause in his words. He’s said them, plain and simple, as if this isn’t the first time he’s been able to get the words out. I guess it’s my turn to cry, because I feel a tear trickle down my face, landing on his. He grins a crooked grin at that. “Is it that bad a fate?” he jokes.

“No, no,” I choke on my laugh. “I love you too.”

And sure, there’s going to be more nights like these. Nights where we fight, and maybe sometimes they won’t end so well, so neatly.

There’s going to be more fights. Stupid fights, nasty fights.

But there will also be more I love yous. More holding. More feeling.

And no matter what happens, I’ll be there for Dean Winchester. Always. And I mean that.

[zaunbinary]

i made a post saying how season 2 suffered from not having a figure like silco and how caitlyn could’ve filled that role but i lied actually viktor should’ve been that figure and this next part might be a little far fetched wokey d pronouns take but i think un-machining the machine herald was another way for the writers to scoot past having to touch the zaun/piltover conflict

viktor being from the undercity is incredibly important. he worked his way up but got as far as assistant to the dean of the academy and then partner to a councilor. while jayce was always vocal about it being their dream, that’s not how piltover saw it. jayce was the man of progress it was his face on the mugs he was the one that got offered to do a speech he was promoted to councilor while viktor stood in the shadows. yes viktor intentionally kept himself there at times but he was never offered any of the above like jayce was, and when he was it was because of jayce. bless his heart but even jayce was ignorant to viktors identity as a zaunite to the point he’d forget viktor was from there and said he saw people from the undercity as dangerous which upset viktor greatly and he didn’t try to hide the fact that the disrespect to his home upset him.

viktor being from zaun is once again acknowledged when jayce brings him in front of the council so they can announce the peace proposal. viktor is introduced as a zaunite and is the one to share the news to the councilors who promptly freak the fuck out. they’re yelling, drinks are spilt, chairs are flipped, all at the idea of zaun being independent. and viktors the only zaunite in the room. can you imagine how terrifying that’d be?

having viktor become the machine herald on his own volition instead of the hex core doing the heavy lifting of his transformation would’ve meant they’d need to address viktors growing resentment of piltover.

into season 2 things specifically, piltover begins to weaponize the grey, shimmer production is cut, and hex tech is being used to create weapons. all of those things viktor would have something to say about and it doesn’t align with what the writers want to say. the use of the grey is obvious.

viktor was slowly dying from a disease he caught caused by breathing the gas in as a child. i’ve seen people defend caitlyn’s use of the grey (which is CRAZY by the way) by saying she only gassed certain areas and not the whole city. fun fact about gas, once it’s in the air it travels! it does not stay in contained areas and in fact would’ve effected all of zaun.

shimmer is the closest thing zaun has to health care. it’s extremely dangerous and controversial especially with the empire silco built with it, but it’s all these people have. people grew addicted to it but we see it save lives several times in the show. viktor is aware of this. when he feels he has no other choice he turns to using shimmer. he goes back to singed and says the words “i understand now” out loud with his mouth. when he walks through zaun post hex core cocoon he would’ve seen the damage silco did with his implementation of shimmer but also how not having any production or regulation on it was harming zaunites too.

viktor is clear that he does not want hex tech used for weapons. how do you think he’d feel seeing it used anyways and now against his people in an unjust use of police force? not only is it cruel to his home it’s disrespectful to him as a scientist, just another show that no matter what jayce says no one else sees them as equals in their creation.

having viktor rise to this figure could’ve also been beneficial to jinx’s character. she disses him in what we get but i can’t help but feel things would be different if he was the machine herald. i think it’d be a similar situation to silco and jinx’s relationship where both sides see themselves in the other. jinx is a clever inventor from the undercity who was revived with shimmer and she lost her sister to the topside again. between the jinxers and sevika telling her how much silco sacrificed for her, i feel like jinx would’ve stepped up alongside a figure like the machine herald. if not immediately then when isha died.

and. most importantly. they could’ve had blitzcrank. viktor jinx and blitzcrank… we were robbed.

[its-alittleobsessed]

Ive decided that i actually dont want to hear anything the actors say, actually. Like Misha said—no. I dont wanna know. But Jensen actually emphasized!— no. Nope. No. I dont wanna know. I wanna live in my little bubble of complete delusion for as long as i can.

I wanna live in my world where the series finale never happened and actually, Dean Winchester is thriving. He is. He is living his cottage core dream out in the woods with Cas and they’re both so fucking happy, man. You wouldn’t believe how happy they are. And it doesn’t matter who emphasized what or admitted what because Dean and Cas don’t really care. They’re happy without anyone approval and I’m. I’m so glad for it dude. I am just. So goddamn content about their lives. You cant hurt me.

[spnbangbang]

Achingly familiar

Author: Tossukka

Artist: riverwithoutbanks

Primary Ship: Dean/Castiel

Other Ships: mentioned Sam/Eileen

Length: 5,000

Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, nonconsensual dream walking, dream sex, temporary major character death (Castiel in the Empty)

Tags: Canon divergence, Season 15, finale doesn’t exist, Castiel’s deal with the Empty, dream walking, wing kink, enthusiastic consent, Castiel and Dean Winchester need to use their words, dream sex, dreams vs. reality, mutual pining, angst and smut and romance, friends to lovers, love confessions, happy ending

Posting Date: November 7, 2024

Summary The ache of the knowledge that Castiel’s feelings were reciprocated but Castiel couldn’t do anything about it made the feelings of love mix up with grief and anger about the circumstances. It was not a happy feeling and as long as he was tied to the Empty through his deal, the happiness of loving would never be undiluted.

His solution had been to touch Dean where the Empty couldn’t reach either of them.

Excerpt The grass touching his legs was green and soft, and Dean’s joints didn’t hurt despite his position. His surroundings were glittering and faded, as if the space around him still hadn’t decided what shape it should take.

“Dean.”

The voice speaking was achingly familiar, and Dean welcomed it. He missed Cas when he wasn’t close and should have known he’d be here. Dean turned his head and to his surprise Cas had wide blue wings on his back. It should have been a shock, maybe in other circumstances it would have been, but now Dean just smiled at him and turned around to greet his best friend.

The said best friend, and possibly the love of his life, pressed his lips against Dean’s. That also should have been a surprise, but it wasn’t. Cas’ lips always looked so chapped but against his they were soft and the kiss felt right in ways that many things in Dean’s life didn’t. Dean had been scared of the possibility of kissing Cas, pressing his feelings deep down and refused to acknowledge them, but here, wherever here was, it felt safe. There was no one else around and Dean’s mind felt for once calm. Broken, cut-off thoughts about sexuality and what others might say ran through Dean’s mind, but when Cas opened his mouth to add tongue and teeth to their kiss, Dean’s thoughts all focused back on the sensation.

Cas’ arms were strong as he pulled Dean closer and pressed their bodies together. Dean was kneeling on the grass and Cas was kneeling in front of him, his hands moving against Dean’s back and holding him close. Dean wrapped his own arms around Cas and felt strong muscles under his hands through the layers of clothing.

Fuck. He had known Cas was easily strong enough to hold him down and keep him there even without trying but thinking of that in the context of sex…

It was so hot.

Dean moved his hands a little higher and met one of the wings sprouting from Cas’ back. It felt powerful and moved under Dean’s touch.

“Dean,” Cas said, breaking their kiss. “They’re sensitive.”

“Good sensitive or bad sensitive?” Dean asked.

“Very good.”

“Awesome. So can I continue?” Dean grinned and grasped the wing more firmly, combing his hand through the feathers. Cas shuddered and bit down on Dean’s shoulder to muffle his groan. With a little more exploration Dean found some more sensitive spots at the root of the wings and that Cas could handle it no matter how tight Dean grasped the wings. Actually it seemed that Cas preferred a more rough touch which delighted Dean and made him burn all over his body. If he tried enough, maybe he could make Cas stop holding back and…

What would Cas do if he let go of his restrictions? What would Dean want him to do?

[thegettingbyp2]

Can I ask for a Castiel request

Where Castiel has a family with YN, but the Winchester brothers didnt know that Castiel has a double life (1-helping the brothers hunt, 2- being a husband and a father). He decided to introduce his family to the brothers one day, (when I say family I’m talking big family, a family of 8 to 10 children and they’re all mamas boys).

Fluff and a bunch of more fluff

Idk😭If you have time please write this

Thank you

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It wasn’t that Castiel was ashamed of his want of a normal part of his life, as normal as an angel could get anyway, far from it. He loved having you and all of your boys, he just never told anyone about you because he was trying to protect you. He’d seem what Sam and Dean had gone through trying to protect you and he couldn’t even think of the idea that you could be put in danger like that.

The day that Sam and Dean actually met his family, it was a complete accident. The three of them had been in the bunker when Dean decided that he wanted to do a grocery run, dragging Castiel along with him. When Cas was shrugging his trench coat back on, something fell out of his pocket, making a loud clatter on the flaw, drawing the attention of the two brothers.

‘What the hell is this?’ Dean asked, a confused smile playing on his lips as he reached down and picked up the toy car that had fallen from Cas’ pocket. Cas recognised it immediately, the familiar red car that his eldest son always played with.

‘Looks like Cas likes to play with toys,’ Sam said, grinning from ear to ear.

‘It’s not mine,’ Cas replied, tucking the toy back into his pocket.

‘Then you’re going to have to explain why you have a kids toy hanging around in your pocket,’ Dean said, sitting back down.

Castiel paused for a moment, wondering whether or not to tell them about you, unable to think of any other reason he’d have for having a toy car in his pocket. Sighing, he sat back down and took the car out of his pocket, twiddling it in his hands. ‘It’s my sons,’ he said, softly smiling the way he always did when he thought about his family.

‘Your son?’ Dean repeated, raising an eyebrow before chuckling incredulously. ‘You don’t have a son, you’re - you’re Cas. He doesn’t have a son, right?’ he directed the last question at Sam who just shrugged in response.

‘I don’t have a son. I have 8,’ Cas replied matter of factly, making Dean choke on his drink.

‘You have eight sons?’ he asked and Cas nodded in confirmation. ‘Well, how come we’ve never heard of them before and you have sons with who?’

‘(Y/N),’ Cas said, a wistful smile appearing on his lips as he thought about you, his lovely wife.

‘So, here comes my question from earlier, how come we’ve never heard of them?’

Cas’ smile faded and he gave Dean a look that very clearly told him that he thought he was stupid. ‘You think I wanted to risk getting them hurt by bringing them here?’

‘Fair point,’ Dean said after a seconds pause, leaning back in his seat. ‘So, when are we going to meet them?’

‘Did you not hear what I just said?’

‘C’mon Cas! I want to see this clan you’ve been hiding!’

Cas stared at both brothers for a second before sighing and clicking his fingers. The moment Cas was greeted by the sight of your living room, he instantly felt himself relax. He could hear the sound of his children laughing out in the garden and he led Sam and Dean through the house until he found you, baking in the kitchen. You saw a movement out the corner of your eye and your head whipped around, your face breaking out into a giant grin as you saw Cas standing there.

Dropping the rolling pin you’d had in your hands, you rushed across the small kitchen and threw your arms around your husband before pulling back, pressing both of your hands to his cheeks and pressing a kiss to his lips. ‘You’re back!’ you exclaimed, giggling softly as you tried to wipe the flour off of his face. ‘How come you’re back already? Not that I’m complaining but you’re never this quick when you go off on a case.’

‘So, you tell her about us but not the other way round?’ Dean’s voice came from behind Cas and you peered behind him to see the two brothers standing awkwardly in the doorway of the kitchen.

‘You guys must be Sam and Dean!’ you unwrapped your arms from Cas and moved to hug them both. ‘Sit down and make yourself comfortable, I’ve got a fresh batch of cookies about to come out of the oven but you’ve got to be quick because as soon as the boys smell them, they’ll be gone.’

‘Where are the boys?’ Cas asked as Sam and Dean took a seat at the large dining table.

‘They’re all outside playing, hang on a second,’ you said, holding your finger up before walking over to the back door. ‘Boys! Look who’s home!’

Both Sam and Dean’s eyes widened when what seemed like a dozen young boys came running back into the house, their eyes all lighting up as they threw themselves at their dad. Castiel turned to face the brothers, wrapped up by all of his sons clinging to him like koalas. ‘Sam, Dean, meet my family.’