#like sure dean convince yourself whatever suits you

[gabriestat]

[estrel]

for #spnprideweek day 1: coming out + flags

↳ summary: cas tells sam a secret that he hasn’t (really) told anybody else. surprisingly, sam has one too.  PRIDE series | gen, sam & cas | word count: 1.7k

[READ ON AO3]

Sam’s grimacing a little at the grease from the fries on Cas’ plate. Cas would usually make a comment, here, about Sam keeping his eyes on his own paper, or that it isn’t nearly as bad as the veggie burger sitting on his plate at Sam’s behest. This is the recompense, Cas wants to say, but his mouth is dry and no words are coming out even if he wants them to.

Accompanying the inability to speak is the twisting feeling in his gut that won’t even allow him to pick up the burger. The smell is too much, too, and Cas hates to admit it but it’s probably the grease, so he sits back a little against the peeling seat of the booth to calm his nerves.

It’s just Sam. He can do this. It’s only that this is the first time he’s telling anyone, and that definitely ups the stakes a little.

Well, that’s somewhat of a lie. Cas had told the nice woman at the grocery store check out last week when he’d seen her little pin on her work uniform and asked where he could get one. 

He hadn’t actually bought one, of course, but Cas eyed the small bin full of brightly colored pins on the way out, convincing himself it was stupid to get back in line again for something so small and inexpensive. Still, he’d thought about it on the drive back to the Bunker, and that night in his bed, and the full week following, up until now. 

Now, Sam was looking at him with concern, and wiping his mouth in that way that means he’s about to get serious.

“Is everything alright?” he asks, pointedly looking down at Cas’ loaded plate. He’d barely taken a bite, except for a few nibbles of his admittedly greasy fries. And it was weird because since becoming human, Cas' appetite had grown considerably, much to Dean's delight.

And—Dean. That's what this was all about, wasn't it? Sure, it was more than just Dean, it was all the humans that had made Cas' body ache like it hadn't before, had made him think of what it means to be in this vessel—his body—and be attracted to other...humans.

It was odd. In hindsight, things in Heaven had been so much easier in this regard. Cas had spent most of his life clueless to the capabilities of human attraction, and then he met Dean and it all came crashing down around him. Only then, Cas was ignoring it. He was facing the other way, because though he felt human, he wasn't. Not really.

But everything is different now.

Cas clears his throat.

"Well," he starts, "no. I am feeling what I believe you’d call...anxiety. My stomach hurts, I find I'm unable to eat, a-and my hands are—"

"Cas," Sam interrupts. Shaking. Cas' hands are shaking.

Sam's fully set his fork and knife down now, hands clasped together on the edge of the table. "Talk to me."

Cas licks his dry lips.

"It’s not...it isn’t a big deal, really,” and yet Cas can feel his heart hammering in his chest. He sucks in a breath. “But I’m, uh. I wanted to tell you that...I like men.”

Sam’s expression doesn’t change, but he blinks at Cas once from across the table.

“Okay.”

Cas raises an eyebrow, pulse slowing down a little with his next exhale. “Okay?”

Maybe it was that simple, and Cas was worrying over nothing. It’s just...this feels like it should be bigger. Earth-shattering. Like Sam should either hug him or tell him he never wants to speak to Cas again.

Instead, he just shrugs, picks up his fork and pushes bits of his salad around his plate.

But then Cas’ gaze moves to Sam’s face and...Sam’s frowning. Cas feels his heart thumping hard again, waiting for the ball to drop. It feels a little like when Dean sat him down to “talk,” right after he lost his powers, and, well. Cas knew how that had ended. He braces himself for the worst, schools his features to something more neutral.

“I’m,” Sam clears his throat, “I’m sorry you got nervous over all of that. I-I get that coming out is...” he laughs, “usually a bigger deal, but. You don’t have to worry with me, you know? I get it.”

That makes Cas pause. “You...do?”

Now Sam’s looking at him, eyes a little wide, but he works his jaw and gets the words out. “Yeah. Uh... well I guess now’s a good a time as any to tell you.”

“Tell me what?”

The fork is set back down again. The bell over the diner door jingles. 

“In college...you know about Jess,” Sam says, jogging Cas’ memory. He knows, so he nods and Sam continues, “Well we uh. We actually met in a Gender Studies class. I thought, ‘pff, easy A,’ but it was actually way more complex than I originally thought, so she kind of...tutored me.” Cas raises an eyebrow, and Sam rolls his eyes.

“Actually tutored me. Whatever. Point is, I learned a lot—‘cause she was a great teacher—and...not just about the class, but about myself, too.” 

Cas nods slowly, beginning to catch Sam’s drift. “Okay...”

Despite his tone, Sam’s posture stiffens a little, like he’s uncomfortable, or not really used to this type of conversation. Cas does his best to relax into his seat to ease him, unfolding his arms.

“What I’m saying is,” Sam shrugs, “I’m...not...cis. Like, I don’t....I’m not um, a guy, I guess. Well, sort of. I’m non-binary.”

Cas is silent for a second, mulling it over in his head. Eventually it becomes long enough for Sam to say, “Uh...you know what? You can forget it, man—”

“No!” Cas says, almost knocking over his plate in the process. The silverware clatters as it falls onto the table, and Sam flinches a little. “I was just thinking...I want to apologize if anything I’ve said about your gender has ever made you uncomfortable, or if you—”

Sam’s out-facing palm makes Cas stutter to a stop. There’s a weird guilt settling in the pit of his stomach, and the anxiety that he’d thought was gone is back full force again. Cas tears off a piece of his napkin.

“Cas, dude. Calm down,” Sam laughs. He takes a deep breath, and Cas follows his lead. They breathe in and out together for a beat, and when Cas feels fairly calmer, Sam pushes both of their plates aside.

“There’s no need to apologize for something you couldn’t have known about,” he starts, shaking his head a little, “and you haven’t done anything wrong, either. I still use he and him pronouns, and sometimes they and them. And besides, it’s not like I go around telling people. Especially with, uh, the way I was raised...I’ve been hesitant, you know? It was great in college, people were really supportive when I told them. But then when I started hunting again...I don’t know. 

“My dad...uh. I tried telling him, once. Didn’t go too well, so I didn’t try it again. I think that’s why Dean...” he shakes his head, frowning down at the table again. “It wasn’t easy, growing up the way we did. You could probably understand that.”

Cas nods. Under the table, his napkin is shredded into bits. 

“I do. I think, in a way, I also understand being trans.” Sam jerks their head up, intrigued. 

“Angels...we don’t experience gender the same way humans do. In fact, the concept is entirely nonexistent in Heaven. So, when we take vessels...”

“You’re essentially defining yourself,” Sam says in awe. It makes Cas smile to see them back in their element, leaning forward a little to listen better. “I never thought about it that way, not really.”

Cas shrugs. “I’m not sure all of my siblings did, either. Many chose according to which vessel would best suit them and their form. That was definitely a factor in me choosing Jimmy, but I also found the thought of looking like a human man...greatly appealing.”

Sam’s nodding now, gaze darting to different parts of the table. Cas knows that means they’re mentally crafting an essay right about now, or thinking of what books in the Bunker might further help in their research about it.

“Wow,” he says, “that’s—I mean. Wow, Cas. Thanks for telling me that. And uh, the other thing.”

“Oh. Thank you.”

There’s a comfortable silence between them now, and Cas takes it as an opportunity to sip from his slightly-melted iced tea. 

“So,” Sam starts again slowly, “have you told Dean?”

Cas sucks in another deep breath, and Sam nods. “Yeah,” he says, “me neither.”

It surprises Cas a little that Sam hasn’t told him, and he expresses that with an inquiring eyebrow. 

Sam purses his lips and dodges the unspoken question. “Dean’s not a bad guy. You probably know that better than anyone except me. You know he’d still love you if you told him.”

Cas’ heart pounds at the mention of the word. When Sam notices, he feels his ears begin to heat with a blush. 

“Oh,” Sam smiles, “that. I figured. For a while now, but I didn’t wanna say anything.”

Cas tries to will away the heat on his face. He doesn’t say anything, so Sam leaves it be.

The waitress gives them a worried look when she brings the check, eyeing their barely touched plates. They both smile apologetically, insisting that their food was “great” when she whisks it away.

On their way back home, Cas asks if Sam can stop at the store. They don’t ask anything more than, “we need groceries that bad?” and Cas dips inside. He knows this is just like any other grocery run—going in and out as quick as possible with the things they need—yet his heart hammers all the same when he stops in front of the bin near the door. The same employee from last week is working on lane six, and he’s sure to check out at that one with his goods. She gives him a knowing smile.

Cas flops into the passenger seat, a little out of breath.

“That was fast,” Sam starts to say, before noticing Cas’ lack of grocery bags. “Dude. What d’you buy, air?”

Instead, Cas brandishes two brightly colored pins. Sam tentatively takes the yellow, white, purple, and black one, eyes wide.

“For me?” they ask.

Cas smiles, running his thumb over the rainbow one in his hand. 

“For both of us,” he says.

[@spnprideweek]

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Once In A Lifetime

Summary: While at a brewery the day before her sister’s wedding, the reader runs into her once in a lifetime fling, Dean, for the third time. It’s been fours years since they’ve seen each other and eight since they met but the timing’s never seemed to work out between them until maybe now...

Pairing: Wedding Date!Dean x reader

Square: Wedding Date!AU

Word Count: 2,100ish

Warnings: language, fluff

A/N: Written for @supernatural-jackles​​ Tell Me A Story Bingo. Enjoy!

______

“Y/N fucking Y/L/N,” you heard as you were mid chew of eating your piece of pizza. You spun around and swallowed, a big grin crossing your face. 

“Dean!” you said. You ditched your table with your family and ran over to him, Dean giving you a big hug and swinging you around. “You look great!”

“You got even better looking, sweetheart,” he grinned as he set you down. You bit your bottom lip and he blushed a bit. “You look good, Y/N. Never expected to see you again, especially Kansas City of all places.”

“I’m in town for a family wedding. I thought you lived in LA?” you said.

“Used to. I own this place,” he said. “How long’s it been?”

“Four years. Another four before that,” you said. 

“So much for once in a lifetime,” he smirked. 

“Still a boy in there, aren’t you, Dean.”

“A bit,” he smiled. “Older too.”

“Same. We were just kids back then.”

“We’re still kids. We just got most of our shit together now,” he said. 

“Oh yes. Still single and still working a job I hate. I so got my shit together,” you said.

“I wear makeup for a living so you’re doing better than me,” he said. “Also still single.”

“I thought you dated some actress or something a while back.”

“Didn’t work out. Put my head down, been working a lot lately,” he said. “Am I about to meet your fangirl sister you told me about?”

“Oh God,” you said as you caught Georgia wandering over from your table with Scott. “I am so-”

“Hi!” she said and you groaned. “Do you know my little sister?”

“Y/N and I go way back,” said Dean. Georgia slapped your arm and you whined. 

“You’re friends with him and you didn’t tell me!” she said.

“Oh well we haven’t seen each other in years,” said Dean. Georgia looked at you and you shook your head, her own nodding.

“He’s Italy Dean, isn’t he. Dean Winchester is freaking Italy Dean!” she said and Scott covered her mouth, shaking his head.

“Gia, let’s leave your sister to catch up with her friend in peace, hm?” he said.

“This is why I love you Scott,” you said as he dragged her away.

“I like her,” chuckled Dean. “How long you in town for?”

“A few days. Rehearsal dinner is tonight, wedding tomorrow, head home the next day.”

“Not much free time then,” he said.

“Yeah I-” you said before Georgia screamed. You turned around, your sister stomping around and shouting into a phone. 

“It’s tomorrow! They wait until the last minute to call and cancel the venue!” she said. Scott seemed miffed which was probably as angry as he ever got and your mom was already over trying to calm them both down.

“You can use the brewery,” said Dean quietly. He shrugged as you stared up at him. “We’ve been toying with reserving for private parties over on the far side of the property. Strand lights, farmhouse style wedding, yada yada.”

“Can it look like this?” you asked as you pulled out your phone. You showed him a picture of the venue and the style Georgia had wanted to go for. “I can call all the vendors. All we need here is tables, clean up, you get the drill.”

“What time is the wedding?” he asked.

“1. Reception starts at 4, was supposed to go to about midnight or so.”

“You’re the maid of honor I presume.”

“Can we make this work? I know she sounds insane but she’s actually really sweet most of the time.”

“I’m gonna need help setting this up. Might be an all nighter.”

“I like coffee,” you said. He nodded and you turned around. “Gia! Calm down! I got a solution for ya.”

“Hi,” said Dean as you pulled into the employee parking lot at around ten that night. “How’d the dinner go?”

“Fine. Gia’s stressed out so Scott and I got her drunk. I told her I had it handled,” you said. “I have dunkin and my sneakers and put me to work.”

“The guys are nearly done with the lights. I need you to help me with tables and stuff, where you want everything,” said Dean. 

“Alright,” you said. “Do you have a notebook I can borrow?”

“Pad of paper work?” he asked as you followed him into the back of the brewery. You hummed and he handed it over along with a pen. You cut through a side door and found yourself outside, staring at a whole bunch of lights in trees and along a privacy fence.

“Oh she’s gonna love this,” you said as you walked out there. You started to jot down where trees were and drew some tables on the paper, rearranging them a few times before you held it up to Dean. “Can you put the tables like this?”

“Definitely can do. I’ll handle the forklift, you tell me where you want the picnic tables,” he said.

Forty minutes later the tables were out back and you’d laid out some rubber mats to act as a dance floor with one of Dean’s employees. 

“So DJ is there…” you said to yourself as Dean whistled for you to come over to where he and a few guys were laying out the impromptu bar top. “What’s up?”

“We were just wondering how fancy is your sister? Like is it that fairytale farmhouse thing or she like it more rustic?”

“She’s the former. My future brother in law is the later. He’s the one from here,” you said. “I was just thinking we’d throw a table cloth over the top of whatever we use for a bar.”

“We still got that piece we didn’t use in the second room?” said a man.

“The too dark of stain one? Yeah, it’s in storage. I bet that’d work great,” said a different guy. They took off and you took a deep breath as you looked around.

“It’s getting there,” said Dean. “If you want to head back to your hotel I think we can handle the rest.”

“It’s not that late,” you said. “I can do the tables while you guys figure out the bar situation if that’s cool.”

“Alright. Let me know if you want any help, sweetheart,” he said. You crossed your arms and he mimicked you, tilting his head down. 

“Thank you for all of this. Georgia will love it.”

“I’m not doing it for Georgia,” he said with a soft smile. You bit your lip and turned your head, feeling Dean step closer. “If I asked you to stay a few more days, would you?”

“Dean-”

“Would you?”

“Yes.”

“Then stay. Let’s try this for real.”

“I thought you weren’t a commitment kind of guy. That’s what you said.”

“You said there were no strings attached and yet here we are eight years later and I am as smitten as the first time I saw you.” You looked up at him, Dean reminding you of just how easy it was to fall in love with him. 

And how hard it was to fall out of it after the two you went your separate ways. Twice.

“Dean it’s never worked before.”

“We never tried. Italy was the two of us having fun and falling way too hard and fast and it scared the shit out of us both. And your car...that couldn’t have been coincidence. We spent the night in that motel room being goofy and reconnecting and then you got so hard when we said goodbye.”

“It’s kinda hard to get over you.”

“Don’t get over me this time,” he said. “I never did with you.”

“I can’t be with a celebrity and do that stuff.”

“Oh yes, I live a very glamorous life,” he said as he looked around. “Should I get out the forklift again?”

“Dean you know what I mean. You were coming up eight years ago. Four you had fans. Now you got even more. I live in a one bedroom apartment and work on sales reports from my kitchen table.”

“If you work from home then staying down here a few more days shouldn’t be a problem,” he said.

“Dean you’re gonna break my fucking heart again and I don’t want to put it back together. Can we just leave it at friends?” 

“Okay.” He unfolded his arms and cupped your face with both hands, pulling you into a deep kiss. You grabbed onto his shirt and slid your hand up to his face, Dean slow to break it off. “I don’t want to wait another four years.”

“I’ll stay a few days and if I’m not convinced there’s something…” you said as Dean chuckled. “Oh shut up you hopeless romantic.”

You brought your lips to his, moving slowly, Dean’s hands wrapping around to your hip, the nape of your neck, kissing you as gently as he did the first time he had.

“Uh, boss,” said a voice. You stepped away from each other and he grunted. “We got some barrels we could use to rest the top on.”

“Yeah,” said Dean. “Sounds good. Right?”

“Very good,” you said with a nod. “Dean, you uh, mind helping me with the tables?”

“Not at all, sweetheart.”

The Next Evening

“Hey,” you said as you found Dean in a suit, no tie, top collar undone and helping serve some beer from the taproom.

“Hey. You want a glass?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said. He poured two and excused himself, heading back with you over towards the reception. “I really can’t thank you enough. My sister loves it even more than the original place.”

“It’s no problem. I’m glad I could help out,” he said. You stopped just outside the reception, Dean smiling as he sipped from his glass. 

“Would you dance with me?”

“Sure,” he said. He set his glass down and took yours, placing it with his own before he grabbed your hips and started to sway slowly. 

“I meant at the wedding,” you laughed.

“But we’re already dancing,” he smiled. He spun you around and hummed quietly. “You look gorgeous tonight.”

“Thank you. You clean up well, Winchester.”

“This old thing?” he chuckled. “It’s my lucky suit.”

“You wore it that night. I thought you were gonna blow me off.”

“Went out and bought it after that afternoon. You wore that pretty white summer dress with the ruffles.”

“Couldn’t exactly wear a white dress tonight,” you said.

“I’m sure you’ll wear one someday,” he said. “You got plans after the party?”

“Might see this guy if he’s available. Not sure yet.”

“Oh he is. He knows a late night diner not too far with big greasy burgers if she’s interested. Plus he’s got a cool car.”

“Let’s go,” you said as you brushed your lips over his.

“Is the wedding over?”

“It’s dying down. I don’t want to wait any longer.”

“Let’s go.” He held out his arm and you stuck yours through it, Dean escorting you out to his car. You felt cooler out in the open air and he shrugged off his suit jacket, slipping it over your shoulders. You stuck your arms through and he opened the door for you, smiling to himself. “Ladies first.”

“Dean?” you said before you sat down. You pecked a kiss to his lips and he inhaled sharply. “Maybe I can stay longer than a few days?”

“You could just stay forever,” he said.

“Maybe I will,” you said. He cupped your cheek and grinned, kissing you slowly. “Don’t go away again.”

“Never, sweetheart. Let’s see if we can get a start on forever finally.”

_______

[superbadassnatural]

Mirth Motel

Summary: Y/N desperately needs her beauty sleep. After lots of begging and attempts at the perfect puppy-dog-eyes, she finally convinces Dean to stop at a motel. Square filled: only one bed Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: 2,188 Warnings: mostly fluff I guess, some funny bits, flirting, lots of eye rolls A/N: Surprisingly, I had never written this trope before! I’m not gonna lie, I had fun writing it. This fills my square for @spndeanbingo.

(x)

“Please,” you pouted, batting your eyelashes. Dean averted his eyes from the road to look at you. “Pretty please.”

“I'm gonna kill Sam for teaching the puppy-dog-eye thing,” he rolled his eyes.

“Is it working? Who does it better?” you wiggled your eyebrows excitedly.

“Sam’s been doing this his whole life; he had years of practice. Of course, he does it better,” he pointed out. “Sam looks like a kicked golden retriever puppy, and you-” he chuckled. “- you look like an angry chihuahua pretending to be sad, so you can go to the dog park and scare all the dogs away.”

“I've always wanted to be a chihuahua.”

“You’re insufferable, you know that?”

“Yeah, I know,” it was your time to roll your eyes. “C’mon, Dean, there's a motel in a few miles. We can crash there. I'm tired. I desperately need my beauty sleep and my feet hurt and I need out of these uncomfortable clothes.”

“Well, my head hurts from hearing you ramble, but I'm not complaining, am I?” he glanced at you, pursing his lips.

“It's late and it's raining. Do you really want to put Baby through this rain? I bet she's cold.”

“Nah, she likes it when it rains. She thinks it's romantic,” his lips pulled up into an asymmetric grin. “If you want to, you can go into the backseat, change into your pjs and get some of your beauty sleep. I promise I won't look while you change. Unless you ask me to.”

“Dean, c’mon.”

“If I pull up at the motel and we crash there for the night, will you stop whining?”

“I'll never whine again for the rest of my life. Cross my heart.”

“Hey, careful there.”

“Please,” you batted your eyelashes. “Do it for me. I know that, deep down in that cold heart of yours, you love me.”

“Okay,” he sighed. “You won.”

“Have I mentioned you are the bestest friend in the world?” you grinned.

“Nope.”

“Well, you are the bestest friend in the world.”

Dean drove for a few more miles. The rain cracked on the hood of the Impala. The sound was relaxing and lulling. The neon sign greeted you, and Dean turned left to head into the parking lot.

“Really? Mirth Motel? What kind of name is that?” he grunted.

“I don’t know, Dean,” you said with a roll of your eyes. “At this point, I couldn't care less about the name of the motel. As long as it has beds and a shower, it's fine by me.”

Dean took a few turns in the parking lot, struggling to find a spot he could park his car.

“Oh for fucks sake, everyone decided to stay here tonight?”

“Stop complaining,” you nearly whined.

“There isn't a single spot where I can park Baby. There better be a room available for us.”

“Stop being so grumpy. There's a space available right there.”

“Where?”

“There!”

“Thanks,” he huffed.

“You're welcome,” you pouted.

Dean parked the car, cutting off the engine. He sighed and glanced at you.

“We’re far away from the entry,” he pointed out. “There's no way to get inside without getting ourselves wet.”

“Fine by me,” you shrugged. “As long as I get to take a shower as soon as I step foot in there, it's okay.”

“Okay.”

You and Dean climbed out of the car quickly with duffle bags over your shoulders. You made a beeline to the entrance of the building, the rain mercilessly pouring down on you. Dean immediately went to the front desk, some of his wet hair stuck to his forehead. You took a few steps back, grabbing your phone and deciding to text Sam to let him know you had made a stop at a motel.

“Two queens, please,” Dean smiled at the old lady behind the counter. She nodded and checked on the system.

“I’m sorry, dear, we don’t have any room available with two queen-sized beds,” she offered him a sympathetic smile. “But we do have a room that will settle you for the night just fine.”

“Okay,” Dean frowned as the woman handed him the keys with a smirk. “Thank you, ma’am.”

“You’re welcome, dear. It's on the second floor. Have fun,” she wiggled her eyebrows.

Dean turned to you with wide eyes. You glanced up from your phone.

“All good?” you asked.

“Yeah,” he nodded. “Got it.”

“Great. Shall we?”

Dean gave a short nod and led the way.

“Dude, we’ve been to a lot of crappy motels, but this one takes the cake,” he mumbled as you climbed up the stairs. “Why the hell couldn’t I just park the car and get in a room like every other motel?”

“I don’t know, Dean, but complaining won’t make any difference,” you chided. “And we’re gonna stay here for less than twelve hours. We’re gonna be on the road first thing in the morning, so please, just stop complaining, or I’ll smack your head in the wall.”

“Fine,” he rolled his eyes.

Dean twisted the key in the lock, swinging the door open. He stepped inside, flicking on the lights; you followed suit. Dean sighed and threw his head back with a roll of his eyes. You frowned with a tilt of your head before looking over his shoulder.

“Of course there’s only one bed,” you blew out a breath. “Are we in a movie? ‘Cause now it certainly feels like we’re in a movie.”

Dean placed his bag on the table; you did the same.

“I expected more from a place called Mirth Motel,” he said. “I am certainly feeling mirthless.”

“Very funny, Dean,” you rolled your eyes. “Look, I’m gonna take a shower now, and when I get out, you better not be in a sour mood.”

“Whatever. I’m gonna go get us some burgers. Call me if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

Grabbing the keys, Dean walked out of the room. You picked up everything you needed and headed to the shower. The water pressure wasn’t nearly as good as the one you had in the bunker, but, right now, it was everything you needed.

By the time Dean got back, you were laying on the right side of the bed - knowing he’d rather sleep on the right -, reading your book. He held the paper bag in one hand and two beers in the other.

“I’m gonna take a shower,” he said, placing the food on the table. “The burgers are still warm, but I think the beers might need to go in the fridge for a bit.”

“Want me to wait for you?”

“Nah, there’s no need to.”

“Okay, I’m waiting for you,” you said, and he chuckled. “What? There’s no fun in eating alone.”

“It’s gonna get cold.”

“We microwave it.”

“Right,” he smiled. “I’ll be right back.”

“Hmm, this delicious,” you nearly moaned, mouthful.

“Yeah, it is,” Dean smiled as he finished his burger, taking a long swig of his beer. “Look, if you want to, I can sleep in the backseat of Baby. I don’t mind. She’s comfy.”

“No, Dean, it’s okay,” you assured him, hand reaching out to his thick forearm. “The bed is big enough for both of us. It’s a king-sized bed, after all. We’d be in trouble if Sam had come with us.”

“Yeah, we would,” he chuckled. “He hogs all the blankets.”

“And all the space. That giant.”

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

“One-hundred percent sure,” you smiled. “Unless you are the one who doesn’t want to sleep with me.”

“Huh? I- uh- of course, I wanna sleep with you,” he stumbled over his words, his voice trembling. You blurt out laughing. “No. I mean- I don’t mind sleeping with you on the same bed. Clothed and all. Not, uh, the other kind of sleeping with you. Like naked and, uh- yeah, not that.”

“Easy, tiger. No need to get all flustered,” you chuckled. The point of his ears turned pink as his cheeks blushed. He took a long gulp of his beer. “For the record, I wouldn’t mind sleeping with you. I mean, the other kind of sleeping with you. Like naked and all. I wouldn’t mind in the slightest.”

His wide green eyes lifted at you before averting your face again. Dean cleared his throat and shifted in his seat.

“Would you?” you asked.

“Would I what?”

“Mind sleeping with me butt-naked.”

“Oh. No, of course not,” he stammered, shaking his head nervously. “Not even a bit.”

“Good,” you nodded. “It’s good to know we’re on the same page.”

“Yeah. Yeah, uh- I’m gonna go to sleep then,” he announced, awkwardly standing to his feet. “I’m tired.”

“Okay, you do that. I’ll be right after you.”

“Okay, good. Great.”

Dean locked himself in the bathroom, doing who knows what. You chuckled to yourself with a shake of your head. You loved making him feel embarrassed. Dean would get all cute whenever he felt uncomfortable. His eyes would widen, and he would lose every ability to talk. When his cheeks turned into a bright pink along with the tip of his ears, then everything was chaotic. It was nice to make him blush.

You laid on your back. The mattress wasn’t that comfortable. You didn’t expect it to be memory foam, but you hoped it would be a little comfier than it actually was. Your eyes were glued on the ceiling, your hands over your stomach as your finger tapped the back of your right one. An awkward silence filled the atmosphere as Dean, too, laid on his back without saying a word. His green eyes stared up as he chewed on his lip.

“Penny for your thoughts?” you said quietly, glancing at him.

“The ceiling is moving.”

“What?” you looked up with wide eyes. The ceiling was perfectly still.“Are you high?”

“No, but I’m pretty sure I've been staring at it for too long, and now it’s moving.”

“You’re so weird.”

“Thanks, you too,” Dean turned on his side, glancing at you. “I’ve been looking everywhere for that shirt.”

“My shirt?” you bit your lip to keep yourself from bursting into laughter.

“No, my shirt. You stole it.”

“You don’t remember, do you? You gave it to me as a birthday present.”

“It isn’t your birthday for the next month and a half.”

“You said it was an early gift,” you said firmly.

“I’m pretty sure I’d remember if I had given it to you,” he said. “But what do I know, right?”

“What do you know,” you licked your lips, turning to him.

“It looks better on you anyway,” he shrugged.

“Yeah, it does.”

Dean’s gaze dropped to your lips, lingering there for a moment, then backed up to your eyes. You drew a sharp intake of breath. His emerald green orbs seemed to unravel all the mysteries of your soul. You swallowed thick, avoiding his gaze. Slowly, Dean’s hand reached to yours under the blankets, his thumb caressed your skin. You looked up at him, his eyes locked in yours. As a way to avoid the growing tension between the two of you, you gave him a playful smirk and placed your feet on his legs.

“Fuck,” he hissed, pulling away; his hand didn’t let go, though. “Why are your feet so cold?”

“I don’t know,” you smiled innocently “You’re always hot, so now you’re gonna warm my feet since the blanket isn’t doing its job.”

“Jesus, it’s like the feet of a corpse.”

“Hey!” you smacked his shoulder. “Don’t say that.”

“Well, maybe if you wore some pants instead of shorts and actually put on some socks, your feet wouldn't be this cold.”

“You’re not fun, ” you pouted.

“If I had my feet against your shins, you wouldn't be too happy about it either.”

“Just admit you love having me this close to you,” you teased, a playful smirk on your lips.

“G’night, Y/N,” he turned his back on you.

“My feet are still cold,” you whined. “What should I do?”

“I don’t know. Use my calves maybe. Just don’t put those dead feet on my back.”

“Can I put them on your ass? I bet it would get them warm pretty quick.”

“Good night, Y/N,” he mumbled, you could almost hear his eyes rolling.

“Is that a yes or a no?” you insisted.

“That’s a no. Now shut it and go to sleep.”

“Fine,” you huffed. “Good night, Dean.”

Eventually, your feet got warm, and you pulled away from Dean. Some time, in the middle of the night, he found your back turned to him and decided to snuggle closer. His strong arm draped over your waist, knees tucked behind yours. Dean was laying on his back when the sun rose, and you rested your head on his chest, his arms once again securing you close. Of course, none of you would talk about waking up in each other's arms for the next four hours you’d be in the car. Perhaps you would only mention it once you were back at the bunker, forced to face what was said and done at the Mirth Motel.

What do you think of this one? Consider sharing your thoughts with me via reply, reblog, or ask!

Hunters: @hobby27​ @thewinchesterandreidwhore @tatted-trina6​ @doozywoozy​ @mogaruke​ @babypink224221​ @leah-winchester​

Dean’s Sweethearts: @maya-craziness​ @akshi8278​ @miss-here-to-stay​ @witch-of-letters​ @weepingwillowphoenix​ @danneelsmain​ @mrspeacem1nusone​  @percywinchester27​

[morkleemelon]

off the ice || chapter 7: finish strong

previous || m.list || playlist

pairing: college hockey player!mark x college figure skater!reader

genre: fluff, humor, college au, sports au

word count: 5.5k

warnings: swearing

author’s note: it’s finally here, the final chapter :’) I’m both sad and relieved as this is my longest written work ever. huge shout out to my beta readers @skiimmiilk and @writing-frog for sticking with me and making this story SO much better. also, please watch this clip which is the choreography being performed in this chapter. I own none of it or the song it is being performed to! with a full heart, I hope you enjoy chapter 7, finish strong (copyright morkleemelon, all rights reserved)

Soft clusters of snowflakes drift all around, brushed up from their pine-tree-seats, swirling a playful circle around the couple sitting by the lake side before settling in their hair. The early morning cold doesn’t seem to bother them as they sit still, mitten in mitten. It’s picturesque, pristine.

You don’t have to be able to see yourself to know this.

“We should head down to warm up soon,” Mark whispers, cozying into your side.

You hum, leaning your head on his shoulder, feeling the stray snowflakes melt against your cheek. The two of you had come out to your favorite spot to calm your pre-competition nerves, agreeing to stay until the sun reached the tip of the frosted trees. Undoubtedly, from any angle you so choose to look from, that point has been far surpassed and the happy sun beams gold upon the winter landscape.

Bob Ross would have loved this.

“We should,” you agree reluctantly. Giving him a peck on the cheek, Mark shudders at the cold feeling of your lips on his skin. He crinkles his reddened nose, but doesn’t move to stop your second, your third.

Laughter carries across the frozen expanse as the two of you race back to his car.

One hand on the wheel and the other in yours, Mark does his best to strike up different conversations to distract you. You squeeze his hand in appreciation - if anything, he’s the one who should be more nervous for tonight, being a first time performer and a hockey player and all.

You guess it does make sense since he’s used to being in the spotlight all the time, especially from having biweekly games in front of similar crowds. You weren’t exactly a stranger to being in the spotlight either, but the winter festival at Seoul University tends to be a huge commotion, gathering crowds from all around the city. Families, children, recent graduates to senior alumni all come to fill the campus to the brim and there’s no doubt you’ll have quite the audience to impress.

But it’s thanks to Mark that you have fortunately developed a healthy sense of self-confidence, perhaps even enough to convince yourself that there’s a fifty percent chance your performance will go without catastrophe. Maybe, just maybe, you’ll finish the routine without breaking your face in front of 15,000 people.

You managed to sneak a look at the competition sign-ups earlier, and unsurprisingly, are the only participant who will be competing with a non-figure skating partner.

Nonetheless, you study your boyfriend’s face unbeknownst to him. The eyes you grew to love so much, trained on the road in front of him. The slope of his nose and the way it connects to his pouty lips, everything, all the way down to the natural determination rooted in his soul makes you have faith in him despite the disadvantaged odds.

Night after night, practice session after practice session, you worked your butts off to perfect the pair skate choreography the best you could.

After the night that Hillary and her accomplice, Seojung, were caught and sent to jail, the two of you had several deep talks, ultimately vowing to keep no more secrets from each other. Whatever it is, good or bad, you agreed that the other would want to know.

Your relationship flourished as you were no longer held back by your anxieties. Public dates, hockey games, sleeping over at each others’ dorms, you let yourself fall one hundred percent into happiness, unfazed by the rest of the world.

Like a dream, the rest of your life slowly fell into place too.

Yuna is doing a lot better. She’s abandoned the crutches, opting to power walk around in only the boot and cast. Ten follows her around like a puppy, carrying her bag and her crutches in case she ever wants them. You’re so proud of her and you’re really glad she has someone like Ten around to dote on her. Every girl should have a simp.

Lisa and Hope were not happy (to say the least) that they did not get to join the gang at ‘the police station party’. Their words, not yours. Lisa threatened to go to the Seoul Police Department to throw hands with Hillary only to find out the two Lovelee’s presidents have been moved elsewhere, to a more isolated confinement, for ‘bad behavior’.

Not my problem.

The court date approached quickly and the jury ruled the two girls would spend their lives in prison without bail. Additionally, the school dean, more afraid of a lawsuit than anything like student lives, abolished the Lovelees fanclub and updated school policy to criminalize such stalking behavior. The eight of you celebrated the amazing news with lots of champagne (without salt this time) and whilst incredibly tipsy, Jeno told Lisa that he liked her.

You don’t want to get into how loud the screaming was in the suite as Lisa grabbed his face and kissed him. The most efficient thing to do is to reveal what all of you received afterwards: four noise complaints.

Mark pulls into the athletic center lot before you know it. He senses your persisting nervousness and turns towards you, enveloping your other hand in his larger ones.

“You are,” he states, shaking your joined hands up and down with every word, “the most beautiful, wonderful, talented woman I’ve ever met”.

You flush in embarrassment, dropping your gaze, but Mark dips his face down to keep eye-contact. He looks so goofy and you can’t help but laugh.

“I’m serious, babe,” he says through a smile, “nobody else here deserves to win more than you do. You made our choreography all by yourself and even taught me, a guy who can’t make eggs, how to figure skate. We’ll do our very best, y/n, so whatever happens, know that I’m proud of you and I love you very much”.

An ‘aw’ draws from your lips and you lean forward to press them sweetly against his.

People walk past your parked car, but you don’t pay them any notice.

Actually-

“Mark, I think we really have to go warm up”. You motion to the other skaters entering the open stadium doors.

Grabbing all of your gear, the two of you rush inside to start warming up.

“There are eight pairs and we’re going fifth,” you report to Mark, checking the performance schedule expertly.

“Uh, okay. Yes… is that good?”.

“It’s whatever. We just need to show the audience everything we have,” you say while smushing his cheeks in between your palms.

“Okay”. His voice comes out adorably from his face being sandwiched in your hands.

Other skaters look on judgmentally, but you stare calmly back until they look away. The music from the routine of the current skaters on the ice ends.

“Calling pair five, Mark Lee and y/n to the ice for rehearsal. Mark Lee and y/n to the ice for rehearsal,” the overhead announcer repeats.

“That’s us”. You take a deep breath and grab Mark’s hand. He gives you a reassuring squeeze as you skate out from the benches onto the ice.

It’s only a rehearsal, so only a few people, coaches and other skaters, were watching. Even so, you blink nervously as you run through the routine in your head.

“Are you ready?,” Mark questions with a smile, pulling you into the starting position. Your heart races against your chest, but you take a deep breath to calm it down. After everything you’ve been through, this is not the hill you’ll die on.

“I’m ready”. You nod to the staff members and the familiar tune fills the stadium.

It’s a song that Mark picked out himself. It’s ‘his contribution’ to the group project as he joked when you were contemplating your music choice. Playing the simple song on his phone, one earbud for you and the other for him, he explained that it says everything that he feels for you. And it’s absolutely perfect.

“Twenty minutes and you’re up, group five! Please be on stand-by,” a staff member peeps her head into the locker room as you touch up your hair and makeup.

All around you, skaters bustle around, frantically stitching last-minute sequins back on their dresses or brushing on copious amounts of blush, surely to stand out to even those seated in the back row.

Pair four is about to go out on the ice, meaning you’ll be out there before you know it.

Mark is in the men’s locker room, of course. He must feel odd being the only one there right now. You texted him asking if he needed help with his costume, but he insisted he’d handle it just fine. It’s more you worrying than anything.

Taking your hundredth yoga breath of the day, you peer into your reflection in the water-stained mirror. Your long, dark hair is half-up and half-down - loose enough to flow with your skating, but also pinned back so you don’t completely choke on it. Natural makeup adorns your eyes and lips. It’s a much different look than what’d you’d usually go for when skating, but after a lot of careful consideration, it would be much more meaningful both to the performance and to you to go out like this.

Your dress is a stunning royal red. After Uncle Joe told your parents about the competition, they all chipped in to buy it for you to wear tonight. You insisted that it was okay, that it was far too expensive and you could just wear your old one especially since money is so tight, but they wouldn’t let you get another word in.

So now it’s on your body with the price tag cut off. You trace a finger over the intricate sequins of the bodice down to the flowy silk skirt. Trusty white skates already laced up, it’s time to go out and meet Mark.

You start to make your way into the hall.

“Hey y/n, you’re getting a call,” one of the other skaters calls out.

Stopping in your tracks, you hop awkwardly back in your skates, thanking her as you grab your phone from her outstretched hand.

It’s a Facetime call from Yuna.

You pick it up, the screen skipping a few times as the signal struggles to connect.

“y/n!”. Metallic voices on the other side come out distorted and the images are no higher quality than 240p at best, but you recognize instantly that your closest friends are all there sitting in the bleachers.

“y/n, you look so beautiful! Are you next?,” Lisa calls over the other voices.

“No, there’s someone going now, but Mark and I will be right after,” you reply, a smile blooming across your face.

“Markos! Markos! Markos!,” the boys start chanting, evicting laughter from your chest.

“y/n your parents are here too! And Uncle Joe”. The camera pans around, revealing the blurry faces of said loved ones.

“No way! Mom? Dad? Joe?,” you gasp, “how’d you come all the way out here?”.

“Honey!,” your mother greets, beaming at the camera, “of course we came! You worked so hard, your friends have been telling me all about it!”

“And we want to meet this Mark boy too,” your father adds.

You scoff, rolling your eyes playfully.

“You’re a good one, kiddo,” Joe chimes in, “and I have a feeling we’ll be seeing something spectacular tonight. From the skating I’ve seen so far, you won’t have much trouble at all getting that prize-”

“Joe!,” you hush, “I’m still in the locker room! Don’t say that!”.

Looking around nervously, thankfully nobody seems to have heard Uncle Joe’s criticism.

“Listen everyone, thank you so much for coming tonight, it means the world to me. We’ll definitely talk after, but for now, I really gotta go”.

“Okay babe, just wanted to let you know we’re all rooting for you!”. Yuna pulls the camera back to reveal everyone cheering and waving to you. Your heart tingles with butterflies at the gesture. “You’re gonna kill it tonight! Love you!”.

Relaying your affections back, you hang up the call and head out into the hall.

It’s dark. All the lights have been turned off for the sake of the icy stage to stand out more. The curtain less windows provide almost no illumination due to the winter evening nature.

Through the wall, you can hear roaring applause greeting the fourth pair of skaters as they enter the ice. The whole university and more must be here by the sound of it.

“y/n”. Mark’s voice guides your eyes to your right. Squinting through the dark, his familiar form approaches out of the shadows.

“Mark,” you greet back quietly, resting a hand on his arm.

Even in this lighting, your breath draws thin at his appearance. His blonde hair is slicked back instead of tousled in a cute fringe like you’re used to. It’s nothing crazy, but it somehow changes his vibe completely. Your hand feels at his billowy white shirt, tucked neatly into black pants.

“Okay, keep looking at me like this and we’re not making it out there,” Mark mumbles under his breath, smirking slightly as a few stagehands pass by.

You remove your hand only to smack him in the same spot.

“Shut up”

“You love me”

“Yeah, and?”

His familiar giggles tickle your ears.

“Are you Mark and y/n? Pair five?,” a staff member interrupts.

“Oh, yes, that’s us”

“Please head down this way to be on standby. When it’s your time to enter, there will be someone at the gate to usher you in”

“Okay, thank you”. Slipping your hand into Mark’s, the two of you hobble in the direction of the rink entrance. It’s nerve-wracking, but the feeling is so easy to ignore when you’re together with him.

The music of the current performance becomes suddenly louder as you open the door to enter the main part of the stadium. From where you stand (in a random corner by the bleachers), thousands of audience members fill the stands.

The pair on the ice dance together playfully to their energetic piece. Your two teammates, you recognize.

“They’re really good,” you breathe, watching them spin oh-so-synchronously together without missing a beat.

“That doesn’t mean we can’t be good too,” Mark states matter-of-factly. You look up at him to meet his gaze, giving his hand a small squeeze in agreement. “And now is as good a time as ever to tell you that I was- and I’m not shitting you- I was standing right here when I saw you for the first time”.

“What?”. You look around at the dark underside of the rink bleachers. The best two adjectives to use for a place like this are ‘dank’ and ‘gross’.

“Yes, I know. Fall of last year, you were practicing at night and I came to do drills. I saw you here and… that was it for me. I dropped my bag and you turned towards me so I completely panicked. I ran away and couldn’t grow the balls to ask you out for a whole year. That’s the truth”.

Mark’s expression is oh so cutely shy and it makes you curl your toes in your skates.

“You complete loser,” you gush over the music, “You should have stayed, asked me out right then and there. Then we would’ve had an extra year together”.

“You’re right,” Mark groans into his hands jokingly. He spreads his fingers to peer through their gap. “But what’s one year of forever, right?”.

“What’s one year of forever,” you echo.

Applause erupts from above you as the skaters finish their routine. The announcer goes over the rules for voting once more, sending them off as they exit the ice.

“Group five, you’re on next. When they announce your names, you’re gonna go through this gate here and when you’re ready, they’re gonna start the music. Any concerns?,” the staff member directs.

“No, thank you,” the two of you shake your heads.

“Okay, this is it,” you state. It’s unclear if it’s directed to yourself or for Mark. In all honesty, it’s to the world.

“This is just one thing, y/n. It’s just one of the many things we’re gonna do together. Let’s just do it how we always do”

He’s always right.

“And now, please welcome our next skaters, sophomore, y/n and her partner, junior, Mark Lee!’.

In the matter of seconds, you’re out of the dark and hit with blinding spotlights from every direction.

Your own thoughts drown out as unseen crowds past the light roar animatedly at your arrival. Raising your arms in the air, hand still laced with Mark’s, the two of you circle around the ice to greet the audience.

“Holy shit, I didn’t get a good look earlier, but y/n, this dress…” Mark remarks, eyes glued on your figure.

“I look beautiful,” you confirm confidently as you stop naturally in the center of the ice. “Are you ready?”.

It’s always like this, rapid fire. As nervous as you are, it's time to go.

Inhaling and exhaling deeply, the junior hockey captain moves into the starting position.

“I’m always ready for you”

And just like that, the soft strumming of guitar chords overcome the audience ruckus and all you can see is the man in front of you.

I found a love for me

Oh darling, just dive right in and follow my lead

Well, I found a girl, beautiful and sweet

Oh, I never knew you were the someone waiting for me

Your bodies move on autopilot, muscle memory from countless nights of practice amounting to the flawless execution of your first lift. His hands are strong against your body and you put your full trust in him to catch you every time. The crowd could be screaming right now and you wouldn’t hear it, only focusing on how much the lyrics of this song mean to you.

‘Cause we were just kids when we fell in love

Not knowing what it was

I will not give you up this time

But darling, just kiss me slow, your heart is all I own

And in your eyes, you're holding mine

You dance in unison, your bodies so familiar with each other. Jumping easily into his arms, you know he can see the love in your eyes as he holds on to balance you by your waist. Hair billowing in the breeze created by your movement, Mark improvises to tuck it back behind your ear.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

When you said you looked a mess, I whispered underneath my breath

But you heard it, darling, you look perfect tonight

Well I found a woman, stronger than anyone I know

She shares my dreams, I hope that someday I'll share her home

I found a love, to carry more than just my secrets

To carry love, to carry children of our own

This is the man you want to spend the rest of your life with.

We are still kids, but we're so in love

Fighting against all odds

I know we'll be alright this time

Darling, just hold my hand

Be my girl, I'll be your man

I see my future in your eyes

And somehow, by the luckiest of stars, he wants to spend the rest of his with you too.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

When I saw you in that dress, looking so beautiful

I don't deserve this, darling, you look perfect tonight

The song winds down and you express every ounce of romance you have for everyone to see. The two of you aren’t aware, but everyone in the stadium is silent with awe.

Baby, I'm dancing in the dark, with you between my arms

Barefoot on the grass, listening to our favorite song

I have faith in what I see

Now I know I have met an angel in person

And she looks perfect

I don't deserve this

You look perfect tonight

Completely in a trance, the world fades back into your awareness as you kneel down across from each other, out of breath. Mark’s eyes sparkle like stars under the lights and he brings you in for a kiss. You’re exhausted, but you stand and melt into his hug, hardly noticing the standing ovations from all around.

Roses, plushies, and paper planes come raining down. You pull away beaming, heart bursting with joy. Hand-in-hand, you take a bow, waving to the crowd as you catch your breath.

“y/n, you were so amazing,” Mark exemplifies as the two of you exit the ice. Everything passed by so fast. Months of hard work and roller coaster emotions accumulated to the last five minutes, over before you knew it.

“Me? Look at you, mister hockey. I’m so amazed at you,” you commend.

As you enter the hall again, you are met with congratulations and praise from teammates and Mark’s many admirers. Although the Lovelee’s may have been banished already, the crowd of cooing girls never went away.

“You were so good, Mark”

“Yeah, totally, Mark. That was so hot”

Your day was far too great for you to be annoyed at their blunt flirtatious attempts (despite your obvious presence by his side). Before Mark could muster out a flustered ‘thank you’, you decide to rip off the band aid.

“He says thank you!”

With no intention of hearing their replies, you lead him further down to where your friends told you they’d be to meet you.

“y/n”. Coach Tanya makes herself known.

“Coach!”. You bow to her.

Much to your surprise, when you come up, the older woman pulls you into a firm hug. Your shock is apparent at the warm gesture and you hesitate before hugging her back. Never has she ever expressed anything more than terse compliments to you before. This is like drinking ice water on a hot day.

“That was absolutely excellent, y/n,” Tanya pulls away to shake hands with your boyfriend, “and you, Mark is it? You were wonderful for a beginner”.

“Thank you ma’am”. He nods politely.

“But y/n,” your coach turns back to you, “I am stunned at your artistry. The emotion, the technique, you’re one of my best. How would you like to go to nationals in the spring?”.

Your hand shoots up to cover your gaping mouth. Tears spring to your eyes and you nod vigorously to confirm your obvious answer to Tanya’s question.

“No way!” Yuna’s voice sounds from behind your coach’s figure. The blonde emerges shortly after, followed quickly by the rest of the gang. The boys waste no time in tackling Mark with congratulations and sharp jabs at his ‘dumbass’ hairstyle.

“You’re here!”. You wrap your best friend in an excited hug. “Coach is sending me to nationals!”. Lisa and Hope join in squealing as the four of you hop up and down at the news.

Tanya chuckles at the scene, “Yes, indeed. And it looks like you’re getting a lot better, Yuna. That’s a relief”.

“I don’t care what the doctor says, I’m gonna make sure I’m on the ice again one day,” Yuna attests.

Coach Tanya leaves you to celebrate as your parents and Uncle Joe come bearing flowers. Many pictures and one uncomfortable interrogation from your parents for Mark later, you get changed and go out to enjoy the rest of the winter festival with your friends.

The results of the competition are to be announced at the end of the night and you elect to not worry about the outcome. What you’ve earned from this journey is more than money could buy. Anything that happens after… happens. You’ll always find a way to make it through and have a great time doing it too.

All bundled up, you hop around the food trucks lining the city streets. Every restaurant in Seoul seemingly sent all their best foods for the festival: spicy rice cakes and burgers to lava cakes and hot cocoa. Live music creates a perfect ambiance to take away all the tension from the day.

The night sky is pitch black, but the whole city campus bustles with life. You swear you’ve seen this exact scenery in a Hallmark Christmas movie - all the cars and buildings wear their fluffy white snow caps, the sparkle of fairy lights in trees reflecting off their glass windows. Nobody cut the cameras because it’s pure magic.

“Guys they’re having fireworks on the roof of the science building. We can watch them announce the competition winners from there too, let’s go!,” Haechan pleads with a mouth full of steaming fish cakes.

“What do you say, you want to?,” Mark asks you, brushing a bit of sauce off the corner of your mouth with his thumb.

“Sounds great,” you smile. Fireworks are always a win.

You weave your way through the crowded street together, heading up the hidden stairwell only students would know to reach the designated rooftop. The whole time you can’t help but let your eyes linger on Jeno and Lisa’s interlocked fingers. The sight sure brings a smirk to your face, but man are you not used to it.

Mark notices your fixed gaze, following it to the odd couple’s joined hands. Snickering, he nudges you to stop staring.

“Sorry, it’s just so… unexpected,” you whisper to him as you head towards the rooftop railing to overlook the campus.

“I know, I didn’t see it coming either,” Mark agrees, tossing an arm over your shoulders as you moon over the breathtaking city line. Your breath makes clouds in the cold, winter air, but you feel warm as ever inside.

Out in the horizon, each blinking, twinkling light is a person living their life. Thousands of stories all at once, blissfully unique and their own. They’re different colors and intensities, some are from windows and some from cars. Overhead, an airplane soars on by. In reality, they’re moving at an incredible speed. But from where you admire, the little red wing lights inch on by, slow to leave your sight.

The world is full, so full. What looks like a tiny red light is a plane full of people and what must look like a speck of gold to them is the whole city of Seoul gathered together. Everything is different when you understand perspective, you realize, and it becomes so much more meaningful.

“Hey, I think that’s the dean! He’s gonna announce the winners of the skating competition!,” Hope taps you excitedly from your other side.

“Oh my god it’s happening”. You grab her hand and shake it around.

Mark’s grip tightens around you as the Seoul University dean steps in front of a podium set up in the school yard. A crowd gathers around, excited whispers travelling all the way up to your rooftop perch. The microphone screeches with feedback causing everyone to groan and cover their ears.

“Sounds like Haechan’s singing voice,” Mark whispers under his breath.

“I heard that!,” the younger boy retorts indignantly. You bite back your laughter as the dean begins to speak.

“Ladies and gentlemen, thank you all for coming out this cold night to celebrate what Seoul University is about: unity and…,”

“Blah blah blah - tell us who won!,” Yuna whisper-yells, exasperated.

“You’re so hot when you’re bratty,” Ten coos.

“I know”.

This couple I swear. I’m trying to be nervous, but I can’t even do that when I’m laughing.

“... first annual skating competition here at Seoul University. Our students not only excel in academics, but hold a variety of astounding talents as you folks may have seen tonight at the University rink. Each student did a phenomenal job preparing for this competition, so let’s give a round of applause for all the skaters who performed tonight and the staff who made it happen!”

You clap your hands together nervously, bouncing slightly at the knee to fight the cold.

“One pair, by your vote, will be winning a grand prize of ten thousand dollars for their exceptional performance. After I announce the winners, we will wrap up the night with our famous annual firework show!”.

The crowd whoops and cheers excitedly.

“Without further ado, by popular vote, the winners of the first annual Seoul University skating competition are…,” the dean slits open a closed envelope, unfurling the contained page with excruciating tardiness. Pausing for dramatic effect, the excitement builds in the air, “y/n and Mark Lee!”.

Your names ring triumphantly through the whole city as you’re immediately crushed by seven hugs. The festival-goers roar in congratulations and you can’t hold back the tears of joy that spring into your eyes. Jumping up and down, your friends surround you in a cocoon of screaming and yelling.

Mark snatches you up, pulling you into his arms and twirling you around. Pressing a frenzy of kisses all over your face, you squeal in disbelief as he sets you down.

“You did it!,” he yells, sandwiching your cheeks between his hands.

“No, WE did it!,” you yell back, jumping up and hugging him close. Your friends waste no time to shuffle into a group hug, enveloping you like a love-flavored bao.

“y/n! No fucking way! Actually, we all saw it coming,” Yuna smacks your butt as an I-told-you-so gesture. You don’t even mind right now.

“I can’t believe it,” you cry into Mark’s fuzzy, black coat, “I can’t believe it. I- this means I can come back to school next semester”.

“Hell fucking yeah you can,” Haechan whoops.

The freezing air is knocked out of your body as a firework cracks across the sky, the booming sound resonating deep in your bones. Everyone’s attention is turned towards the brilliant shower of purples and pinks as they light up the darkened sky.

Mark sets you down, swiping his sleeves carefully over your cheeks to catch your fallen tears.

“My baby, always crying,” he jokes softly. You breathe out a short laugh as you sniff down your running nose. “But they’re happy tears, right?”.

“The happiest,” you nod, resting your ear to his chest as the two of you marvel at the shimmering sky. An especially big firework sets off, smaller ones following all around, drawing awed gasps from all who see.

“I love you,” you mumble.

“I love you too,” Mark hushes into your hair.

“I love this. I love today. I love this school. I love Yuna. I love Hope. I love Lisa. I love Jeno and Haechan. I love my parents and Uncle Joe. I love Coach Tanya and I love skating”.

You pause your rapid-fire declaration as you turn to face him. In his eyes, you can see the whole firework show.

“I love these fireworks and I love everyone who came to see us skate. I loved meeting you all those months ago by the basketball courts and I loved getting hit on at Yangyang’s party so we had our almost-first kiss by the lake”. You choke back a happy sob as you continue.

Mark has his eyes closed with a wide smile spread across his lips as he recollects the memories.

“I love going to church with you and I love when you pick me up from work. I love how you always zip up my jacket without asking and how you never wake me up early in the mornings because you know how much I hate it. You’re always there for me, Mark Lee”.

Fresh tears dribble down your chin and although he remains in pensive silence, shining streaks adorn his face too. You don’t notice it, but your friends have stepped back to let you have a private moment.

“Oh, y/n”. Mark’s voice comes out thick, swallowing back tears. His hand caresses at your face and it’s ever so warm. Moments pass before he’s able to continue. “Always”.

And you don’t need a fairy tale narrator to tell you that his promise is true for you to believe it with your whole heart. You’re here with him, fireworks all around, and it’s as true as the plane in the sky and the lights in the horizon.

You’re surrounded by friends, new and old, and most importantly, friends who are here to stick around.

You were wrong in the beginning: this wasn’t a story about how two souls come together.

It wasn’t only two, you see. It was you and Mark and all your friends and the professors you say ‘thank you’ to after class and the man who sells you green tea in the morning. It’s your parents and Uncle Joe and the stranger girl who fell in love with your skating tonight, sure to beg her parents for a pair of skates. The first of many.

It’s all of them and so much more.

And god, you’re so in love with who they’ve shaped you to be.

[kamilah-the-bloodqueen]

The Cafe Pt.2 (Rewritten Barista)

OMG I’m back with the shitty Kamilah fanfiction! I haven’t written for a while - let alone for this series since I took a writing hiatus to focus on my classes so hopefully there aren’t any plot holes and the fic doesn’t suck ass. I’m slowly getting back into my writing but I still have finals (Up until next April 28) but after finals I will be writing more consistently and will finish my current series and WIPs (I will post my WIPs list soon so I can hold myself accountable and also keep track of what I need to work on).

Pairing: Kamilah x MC (Amy)

Word Count: 3682 words (I am trying to write longer fics but I prefer quality > length so I will post when the chapter feel right however I aim for this series chapters to be between 3500-4500 words each) 

Taglist: (I know it’s been a while so if you’d like to be removed from the taglist just let me know - I promise it won’t hurt my feelings that being said if you’d like to be added to the taglist for just this series, my Kamilah x MC taglist or my perma tag - please let me know I’ll be happy to add you if I remember to even tag) @samanthadalton @beautifulandorganized @cloud9in @kwaj115 @hellyeah90sbaby @shows-simp-card @witchesplayatnight

Part I

“It’s...sweet and comforting,” her voice was soft as she spoke, Amy’s cheeks turning very red, “like you.” 

Amy felt on cloud nine, her eyes glued to Kamilah as she watched her walk to her car and speed away like some rich movie character. Amy closed her eyes, replaying the entire scene over and over until the soft jingle of the bell startled her. Zig walked in, his shoulders drooped low as he carried a large duffel bag in his hand as his backpack slung over his shoulder. 

“You look like shit Zig.” Amy jested before walking to him and taking the duffel bag from him, both of them laughing lightly.

“I guess the tides have changed since we went to Hartfeld yeah?” Amy snickered at Zig’s comment, recalling the time she and her friends had gotten so wasted they streaked through the quad only to be caught by the dean on their way back.

“I assume you’re leaving after your shift?” Amy placed his bag down and tossed him his apron, both of them moving to the front counter as Zig examined the cafe. 

“Yeah, we aren’t technically leaving until tomorrow morning but Kaitlyn wanted to run over some of the more technical things with us. I could probably convince them to let you come, you’d definitely spice things up.” Zig waved his hands in the air and stuck his tongue out as Amy tried to glare at him, before breaking into laughter. 

“And who would watch the cafe? The pigeons? Lily?” 

“You’re right, I still feel bad about leaving on such short notice-”

“I’ve got this Zig, trust.” Amy held her head proud as Zig rolled his eyes, making sure Amy saw him. “Jerk.” She nudged his shoulder as a tall handsome man walked in, it took Amy and Zig a moment to realize who he was as he adjusted his tie. 

“Adrian Raines? CEO of Raine’s corporations?” Zig’s head perked up as he approached the register, his suit was a steel grey, his hair a dark brown that resembled a fresh cup of coffee and his smile was so comforting and infectious Amy couldn’t help but smile at him. 

“You must be Zig,” Adrian reached a hand forward, his teeth were so perfect, so straight and white he could have been in a toothpaste commercial, “and you must be Amy. Kamilah recommended this place. More specifically she recommended your special coffee. I had to come see for myself - she said if she had ordered one for me, it wouldn’t have made it to my office.” His voice was soothing, comforting and satisfying - Amy wanted him to read a bedtime story to her.

Amy’s eyes widened as she felt butterflies in her stomach, her palms growing sweaty as she smiled back at Adrian, his deep brown eyes very similar to Kamilah’s without the intensity. Zig gently tapped her shoulder, nodding towards the coffee machine as he rang Adrian’s drink up.

“Oh! Right!” Amy hustled, she was excited that she had two major CEOs trying her special coffee, it was a subtle flex that she found satisfaction in. She leaned back on the counter as the coffee slowly spilled out of the brewer, the strong smell prompting Adrian to turn for a moment before continuing the conversation with Zig. Amy took a moment to take him in, after all, not everyone gets to be within such a close proximity to a major CEO. Amy hadn’t noticed how muscular he was, his posture was so irritatingly straight, his hands were smaller than she expected and she tried not to laugh upon that discovery. His hair was slickly combed back, and his eyelashes were longer than Amy’s and his body complex was just muscular enough to be seen through the curves of his suit but not so muscular as to resemble Dwayne Johnson. 

“This is a solid set up you’ve got for yourself Zig, you should be proud.” Adrian adjusted his tie to be straighter as Zig rolled his shoulders back with a proud smile on his face.

“It took a lot of work but it’s...something I have wanted since college. I’m sure you understand that feeling since you do run one of the leading technology companies in the world, not even just the United States.” Zig folded his hands into his arms as Adrian turned with a soft gaze, a twinkle in his eyes that Amy couldn’t quite put a pin on.

“Well I’ve had years to grow and create a base for myself, with the connections I have in other industries it was really only a matter of money and finding the right people to work with me.” 

“How long did it take you?” Amy finished his coffee off with a generous serving of caramel and stirred it gently as Adrian blinked at her. 

“A long time, I’m much older than I look.” He laughed and Amy couldn’t help but question why he was so vague, he was only 28 years old according to google. 

“You don’t look a day over 22.” Zig interjected as Adrian and Amy held each other’s gaze, Amy couldn’t help but question his eyes, there was something he wasn’t letting on and she could feel it in her stomach. She handed him the coffee and watched his expression change as the warm liquid met his lips. 

“I can see why Kamilah was so intrigued, this has to be one of the best drinks I’ve ever had.” Adrian’s phone rang with drumming that sounded like it was from a revolutionary war movie. 

“Strange ringtone.” Amy remarked prompting Adrian to smile and shake his head. 

“I love the revolutionary war, the fight for freedom will always be an admirable one.” He smiled at Amy before turning to Zig, “I need to head back to my office but I’ll be sure to invest in this cafe of yours, and for you Amy. Thank you.” He reached into his pocket and handed Amy what appeared to be $300. 

“No wait it was just a cup of coffee!” Amy tried to shove the money back into his hand but Adrian had already dashed out of the door, leaving Zig stunned with a smile and Amy baffled. “What the fuck. I will never understand rich people Zig.” 

“I mean hey, it’s a good tip and you need the money Amy. Now, about you watching the cafe, are you really sure you can handle it alone? It’s a tall order.” Zig furrowed his brows as he scanned the empty cafe, his hand reassuringly placed on Amy’s shoulder. 

“It would actually be a venti order, but I’m sure. You need a break buddy, I can see it in your eyes and you should be there for Kaitlyn and her band.” Amy placed her hand over Zig’s as two women walked through the cafe doors. 

“Alright then, now let’s finish the day.” Zig returned to the register as Amy began fixing the women’s orders. 

The day passed by slower than usual, Amy kept replaying her interactions with Adrian over in her mind, with Kamilah’s earlier remark fading as Amy questioned Adrian’s shadiness. 

“That could not have gone by slower.” Zig let out a long sigh and Amy watched the tension leave his broad shoulders as he locked the front door. “After today I don’t have any more doubts about that trip, I need a break.” 

“That’s all I’ve been saying dumbass, go on. You need to pack and I can clean up here tonight.” Amy joked as Zig looked around nervously.

“Amy this place is a mess, we were so much busier. I can’t leave you to do this by yourself.” Zig reached for the disinfectant wipes as Amy smacked his hand. 

“Get out of here and go pack or you’re straight.” Amy wiggled her brows at Zig who took a step back. 

“Oh fuck off. All the tips from today are yours though. You take all the tips or you’re a vampire lover.” Zig winked at Amy who rolled her eyes and pointed towards the door. Zig stopped and patted her shoulder on his way out. 

“Thank you so much Amy. I’m glad you’re working here and I’m glad we were able to reconnect.” Zig and Amy shared a nod in silence before Zig left the messy cafe to Amy. 

“Now it’s just me I guess. Time to play some music.” Amy smiled and pulled her speaker out of her backpack, putting “Sit Next to Me” by Foster the People on and showly shaking her torso to the beat. She held the broom in her hands and started sweeping to the beat of the song, her head shaking to the rhythm as she sang her heart out. She finished sweeping the floor and began washing the blenders and wiping down the counters, stopping every five minutes to dance to the chorus of whatever upbeat song was playing. 

“She wears short skirts, I wear t-shirts. She’s cheer captain and I’m-” Amy swung her hips around, the washcloth in her hands flying through the air as she swayed her head back and forth like a teenage girl. 

“On the bleachers, dreaming bout the day when you wake up and find that what you’re looking for has been here the whole time.” 

Amy froze like a deer in headlights as she turned to see where the voice came from - Kamilah was standing in the doorway with her arms crossed and a very amused look on her face as Amy slowly lowered her arms in embarrassment. 

“How much of that did you see?” 

“Oh no don’t let me interrupt you, please keep going.” Kamilah smirked and Amy felt a rush of adrenaline run through her. Instead of stopping and apologizing, she found herself hitting the play button and continued singing and dancing like Kamilah wasn’t even there.

“If you could see that I’m the one who understands you! Been here all along so why can’t you seeeeeeee, you belong with meeeee!”

“Standing by and waiting at your backdoor, all this time how could you not know babyyyy? You belong with meeee.” Amy blinked as Kamilah sang with her, the woman's voice was stunning and left Amy speechless as their eyes met in the dim cafe lighting. The way Kamilah’s voice sounded in combination with the low and heated gaze she had on Amy, it felt like she was just reading her thoughts out loud. In a flash Kamilah was standing in front of Amy, their bodies so close Amy could feel the woman’s warmth and smell her sweet scent as the music faded and Amy lost herself in Kamilah’s brown eyes. 

“You belong with me. Have you ever thought...just...maybe...” Kamilah’s voice slowed from a singing tone to a low whisper, she leaned close as the song came to its end, Amy couldn’t help but sing back to her. 

“You belong with me?” She knew it came out shakily, the subtle smirk on Kamilah’s face said it all as they stayed locked in the moment. Amy knew they weren’t just singing to Taylor Swift’s new album, it was unspoken words between the two of them that neither had the courage to previously say. Amy felt her heart speed up, her palms growing sweaty as she waited to see if Kamilah would sing back to her or not. 

“You belong with me.” Kamilah leaned forward to kiss Amy, both of their eyes fluttering shut as the music stopped and time came to a slow. Amy wrapped her arms around the woman’s shoulders as their lips almost met, before Amy’s ringtone blared from her backpack causing Kamilah and Amy to jolt apart. 

Amy rushed over to check the call, scanning the screen and reading Lily’s name made her less annoyed that her almost kiss was interrupted, but still not happy. 

“Hey Lil what’s up? Oh yeah, I’m sorry I let Zig get out early so he could pack so I’m not gonna be home til late tonight. I’m so sorry. Yeah. Oh that’s good, I’m glad! You can def tell me about it later. Yeah? Oh yes I gotcha, I’ll venmo you for the rent once I hang up. Yeah okay goodnight Lil.” 

Amy hung up the phone and opened her venmo, sending Lily the $550 for rent, completely ignoring the fact Kamilah had made her way close to her again. As soon as she put her phone back in her bag, Kamilah turned her back around to face her, the woman’s eyes sparkling in the soft lighting that surrounded them. 

“Kamilah, how did you get in here? We’re technically closed and Zig-” Amy was silenced by Kamilah dangling what appeared to be a copy of the cafe key. 

“I helped Zig fund this cafe, I can come and go as I please, I just prefer to make his life easy and stay out of his way. He said you might’ve needed help cleaning up tonight since you let him go, so I came to help you clean, but instead I found you giving a world tour with no audience.” 

Amy felt a blush crawl up her face, her heart pounding so loudly it rang in her ears as she felt Kamilah’s hand on her arm. She pulled her eyes away from Kamilah’s, unsure of if it was because she was embarrassed, scared, flustered or a combination of all three. Kamilah gently placed her index finger under the girl’s chin, softly pulling her to meet her gaze as she spoke slowly.

“You don’t have to kiss me Amy,” her voice was comforting and lacked the iciness it usually carried, “just say the word and I won’t come to the cafe while you’re here alone.” 

“Kamilah...I...it’s not that...it’s just...” Amy stuttered but leaned forward, unable to reach Kamilah’s lips because of her height. Kamilah leaned down, tracing her index finger over Amy’s throat as their lips softly met. Kamilah slowly took Amy’s lower lip in her mouth, sucking on it and prompting a soft moan to escape Amy’s mouth as she draped herself into Kamilah’s arms. Minutes passed by as their mouths remained locked together, only pulling apart so they could finish cleaning. 

“Come on Amy, let’s get this place clean so you can get home.” Kamilah picked up the roll of paper towels and began drying the blenders and stacking them neatly to Amy’s surprise. Kamilah was a powerhouse, which was something Amy had expected from her since she radiated power like a goddess, but it was her ability to clean so damn thoroughly that confused Amy. 

“Kamilah?”

“Yes?”

“I don’t want to sound rude or anything but-”

“How did I learn to clean so well for an extremely rich person?” 

“Yeah.”

“I wasn’t always this wealthy, and I still prefer to clean my own penthouse since there’s certain ways I like my things placed and kept. The safest hands are our own and I like to be self reliant. Cleaning also makes me feel quite liberated and I keep valuable artifacts in my home that I wouldn’t feel comfortable letting anyone else touch.”

“Oh, that makes a lot of sense. Thank you.” Amy spoke softly as she wiped the last chair down and stacked it. She turned as Kamilah slid her blazer back on and leaned against the door. Amy slung her backpack over her shoulder and grabbed the leftover pastries from the counter but stopped on her way out as she noticed Kamilah waiting for her by the door. 

“You don’t have to walk me home Kamilah.” 

“It’s 1 am in New York. I wouldn’t let anyone walk home alone at this time, besides it’s safer and I don’t think Zig would forgive me if something happened to you.” Kamilah lowered her voice to a faint whisper that Amy could barely make out. “And I couldn’t forgive myself if I let something happen to you either.”

Amy felt sparks up her body as she let Kamilah hold the cafe door open for her, before they both turned to lock it. 

“Well I’ll let you do that since you’re running this place for the next week.” Kamilah took a step back as Amy shakily locked the cafe up, letting out a relieved sigh. She started walking and felt comforted knowing Kamilah was with her, because she didn’t want to walk home alone in the dark despite her earlier remarks. They walked in silence, Kamilah staying close to Amy as they passed by the food bank, Amy tensing as she passed by the same alley that had haunted her ever since she saw glowing eyes that one time. She hastily made her way into the food bank, dropping the bag off with the receptionist and hurrying out the door to get back before anything else could freak her out. 

“Kamilah, how do you know Adrian?” Amy asked as they walked away from the food bank towards Amy’s apartment. 

“I handle Raines Corporations finances. Raines Corporation does all of their financing through Ahmanet Financial and so we’re good business partners but we found good friendship through the years.” There was something suspicious about the way Kamilah spoke, it gave Amy the same feeling when Adrian was asked about her age but she just could not put a pin on why she had this feeling. “Amy? Are you alright?”

“Oh yeah sorry, my mind went off on a tangent.” Amy stopped at the front of her apartment building, she turned to face Kamilah who basically glowed in the dark. The moonlight illuminated her features, her brown eyes shining brightly and her hair shimmering as Amy felt her breath catch in her throat. “Thanks for walking me home..not that I can’t handle myself but-”

“Of course Amy. See you tomorrow.” Kamilah smiled softly, placing a gentle kiss on Amy’s cheek before turning and disappearing into the streets, Amy sighing as she walked through the lobby, getting in the elevator and finally arriving at her apartment door. 

“Hey Amy, how was work?” Lily sat up from the couch, putting her PS4 game on pause as Amy collapsed on the couch next to her. 

“It was alright, I let Zig leave early so he could pack and I was cleaning and totally jamming out and Kamilah saw me but she joined me and we kissed…” Amy giggled as Lily squealed in excitement.

“OHMYGODD what was it like?” Lily perked up like a child ready for a bedtime story, her hands shaking as she waited for Amy to explain.

“Electric. God Lily I don’t even have words for it. My head was spinning and the world just fell away.” Amy swayed back and forth as Lily hugged her. 

“Well maybe you’ll have a date with her soon. Oh, I made beignets tonight, they’re on the counter! Let me get you some!” Lily stood up and rushed away, returning quickly with a beautiful plate of freshly made beignets covered in powdered sugar. 

“I swear you’re the best suitemate ever. Absolutely unparalleled.” Amy bit into one of the sweets, savoring the softness and sweetness of the perfect sweet treat. “God Lily this has to be your best recipe yet!” 

“Girllll no way, I saw this recipe for key lime pie that I’m dying to try this week.” Lily exclaimed as she pulled up the recipe on her phone, Amy taking another beignet from the plate. 

“You should go to a baking school or something Lily. Maybe open a bakery?” Amy suggested as Lily passionately explained the process of baking her favorite desserts. “Maybe you could bake for the cafe?”

“Nah, this is a hobby. I want to finalize my website for my computer business this week. But that’s a nice suggestion.” Lily stifled a yawn at the same time Amy did, both of them laughing at each other. 

“Damn so we’re both two tired dumbasses. It’s 3 am...we should get some sleep.” Lily suggested as Amy realized she’d only be getting a few hours of sleep. 

“You’re right. Do we have any energy drinks in the fridge though? I’m gonna need one before work.” 

“Yeah I bought more redbull and monster so you can take your pick, but I’m gonna crash harder than windows so g’night Amy.” Lily shuffled to her room as Amy did the same - collapsing in her bed and savoring the few hours of sleep she was going to get. 

-----------------------------------------------------------------

Amy arrived at the cafe 20 minutes before opening time, her bag in one hand and a redbull in the other as she unlocked the cafe. She put her bag down and started the opening process, the redbull slowly kicking in as the time passed by quickly. Just as she finished counting in on the register, the door jingled open and Kamilah stepped through the cafe doors. 

“Good morning Amy.” She smiled at her with those perfectly straight teeth and that damn irresistible smile. 

“Good morning Kamilah, here’s your coffee. Both ways.” Amy handed the cups to Kamilah, their fingers gently brushing during the exchange.  

“Amy...about last night…” Kamilah spoke softly, gently, in a sweet voice that Amy never expected from her. 

“Oh...did...you want to forget it?” Amy’s heart dropped, a deep pain forming in her stomach as she awaited Kamilah’s response. 

“No. I...I enjoyed it a lot.” Kamilah’s tone changed from sweet and confident to a shy and lower voice - was she flustered? 

“So did I...maybe...well if you have time tonight maybe we can do it again?” Amy suggested as she wiped the counter down. 

“I’ll be here.” Kamilah smiled, their eyes meeting for a moment before the jingling of the door interrupted their moment. “See you later Amy.” Kamilah waved as she left the cafe. 

The day passed by achingly slow, but eventually after several strange tik tok orders, a bunch of big wall street assholes and a few sweet customers the cafe was ready to close. Amy began cleaning the cafe, starting with just wiping the blenders clean as the door jingled, Amy turned and expected to see Kamilah - but it wasn’t Kamilah in the doorway. 

[sbtlns]

Tiny Dancer

Warnings: smut (!) kind of a crack fic 

A/N: so uh we all agree that the finale was trash right? aight just checkin. anyways i reality shifted when i had a high fever and lived a version of this so i figured i would make yall live it too. part two?

Castiel’s cheeks flushed as you moved to straddle the naked angel. His hand moved instinctively to your waist, holding you close as you leaned down to nip at his ear. He groaned at your action, sending a new wave of heat to your core. You continued your ministrations, nipping and sucking at the tender parts of his neck while the debauched angel squirmed beneath you. “y/n,” he said in a strained voice. You stopped your actions to look down at him, meeting his desperate look. You cocked an eyebrow, prompting him to spit it out. “Please,” he strained, raising his hips to meet yours. Deciding you had tortured him enough, you raised your hips slightly and reached beneath you to align him with your entrance. Before you sunk down on him, you gave him one more ‘are-you-sure?’ type of look. He nodded vehemently and you smiled to yourself, returning your focus to his hardened member slightly probing your entrance. You lowered yourself onto him slowly, savoring the way he stretched you out. He moaned a string of your name, each seeming more urgent. “Cas,” you gasped.  “y/n.....Y/N.....Y/N!”

You shot up in bed, the sound of Dean yelling your name and pounding on your door startling you to say the least. “Yeah?” you croaked, trying to regain your composure. Dean sighed from the other side of the door, finally, he thought, only took five minutes. “We’ve got a case. Map Room in 5,” he said gruffly. Sensing your annoyance, he added, “Sam made coffee.” 

With the promise of coffee, you begrudgingly got out of your bed, shoving the remnants of your dream to the back corner of your mind. You had known Cas for quite some time now, long enough to know that he doesn’t understand human feelings well, let alone romantic feelings. That’s why you decided to try and bury the small crush you had developed for him, which was becoming increasingly harder with the dreams you had been having recently.

Sighing, you got dressed and made your way to the Map Room where you were met with a grumpy looking Dean and a smiling Sam. “Coffee,” Sam said, reaching from his seat to hand you a fresh mug. You were about to thank him when Dean cut you off, “I said 5, not 7.” You threw him a bitch face before turning back to Sam and mouthing thank you, and he smiled in response. You sat down across from Sam as Cas walked in, looking a bit flustered. 

“Sorry I’m late, I was caught up in another matter,” he rushed, making his way through the room to join you at the table. “ ‘S alright, Cas, no sweat,” Dean replied, sitting down with a grunt, across from you and Castiel. “Hold up, I got here before Cas why does he get a ‘no worries Cas,’” you mocked in a high pitched voice, “while I get a ‘how dare you be two minutes late,’” you said in you best gruff Dean voice. Sam almost spit out his coffee, earning a huff of annoyance from Dean. “Maybe because Cas didn’t make me bang on his door for five minutes while he was off in dreamland” he countered. Your face blushed at the mention of dreaming, trying not to think of the hot sex scene you had just dreamt about the angel next to you. “Whatever” you huffed, “let’s just get on to the case, yeah?” 

Sam nodded, pulling up his laptop. “So get this, reports of cattle mutilations, power outages, and now three missing persons reports all in y/h/t. I’m thinking demons. What about you guys?” Dean nodded, sipping at his coffee. “Sounds like our kinda thing” he replied. Castiel nodded silently in agreement. Sam turned to face you, “y/n, thoughts?” Your heart was beating fast and you were sure your cheeks were red. Sam looked at you with furrowed brows. “Hey, you good?” he asked concerned. You forced a smile and nodded, realizing now that the three men were all staring at you. You cleared your throat before saying, “Yeah, it’s just...that’s my hometown is all.” You sighed, “You’re right, sounds like demons though,” you added quickly before taking another sip of coffee. The three men shared a quick glance.

“Um,” Sam started uneasily, “You gonna be okay taking this case?” he asked genuinely. You hadn’t shared much about your past with the boys, nodding and laughing at the stories about their past they told you and quickly changing the subject before anyone could ask about yours. You nodded curtly, raising the mug to your lips again. Memories of your past filled your mind, not totally unpleasant, but enough to make you uneasy about returning to your hometown. You were silently hoping that you could get in kill whatever douchebag demons were causing havoc, and get out without having to deal with anything dealing with your old job. 

Sam didn’t seem convinced. “You sure? I mean we could always call Garth and see-” “I’m sure,” you cut him off. You stood from your chair abruptly, causing the legs to squeak unpleasantly. “I’ll get packed and meet you guys in the garage,” you said before turning on your heel and making your way to your room. You grabbed a bag and filled it with the essentials, glancing at the pair of cowboy boots sitting long ignored in your closet. You sighed to yourself, remembering happier moments from your old job, before management became a shit show. Feeling nostalgic, you decided to throw the boots in your bag before zipping it and heading to the garage.

The boys were already chatting by the car when you made your way to the garage. You threw your bag in the trunk, closed it, and climbed in the back of Baby, the boys following suit. On the drive to your hometown, Dean sheepishly handed you a stack of cassettes, his way of apologizing for earlier. You beamed back at him and picked out your favorites, handing them to Sam to queue up. Not before long, your eyelids grew heavy and you drifted off to sleep in the backseat. 

Dean must’ve hit a bump, because you woke up with a start, disoriented for a moment. It took a second for you to realize that in your sleep, you had laid your head on Castiel’s shoulder, close enough to him so that you were practically draped along his side. You quickly scrambled back to your side of the car, not missing the soft smile and forlorn look Cas had given you. “Oh look, sleeping beauty’s awake,” Dean joked. You stuck your tongue out at him, settling back into your seat. “So y/n, we found out that all three vics have something in common, they’re all regulars at some place called The Saloon” Sam filled you in, placing a Southern drawl on the name of your past employer. 

Your blood ran ice cold and you stared back at him with wide eyes. He was still smiling, pleased with himself for his accent, when he realized you were panicking. The smile dropped from his face. “What’s wrong?” he asked, drawing Dean and Castiel’s attention. Dean shot you a confused glance from the rearview. “What’s wrong princess? Don’t like linedancing?” he joked. You gulped. “Um,” you started. “I uh...” you cleared your throat. “I used to work there,” you mumbled. Sam raised his eyebrows in amusement and Dean fought back a laugh. “Wha-you,” he wheezed, struggling not to burst out laughing. “Our very own tiny dancer, huh?” he mused. You huffed and crossed your arms across your chest, cheeks burning red. Sam turned back around in his seat, holding his laughter in with a smile. Castiel broke the silence, “I don’t understand, is it shameful to dance in a line?” With that, the boys couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst out into fits of laughter.

The rest of the drive wasn’t too bad, besides Dean’s off-tune humming of Elton John’s Tiny Dancer. You pulled into town and checked into the nearest motel, silently thanking the universe that Dean had booked two separate rooms. You might have offed yourself then and there if you had to spend another night listening to Sam’s snores. After settling in, you got dressed in your FBI best and met back by the car. The four of you drove to The Saloon, you becoming more and more anxious the closer you got. Dean pulled up to the gravel lot and took in the building with an amazed look. He kept his eyes on the building as he got out of the car, “Oh ho ho, get look at this,” he said incredulously. Before you stood a massive red barn with a huge blinking neon sign of a half naked woman riding a bull with a lasso spinning in her hand. 

“Yeah yeah, let’s just get this over with,” you huffed, pushing past him and walking into the bar. The familiar scent of beer and cigarettes hit you the second you walked in, taking in the sight of the huge stage in front of you along. A few girls were dancing on stage, with a handful of customers sitting and watching. You heard the door open behind you as the boys stepped in and sighed before turning to face them. Dean looked like a kid on Christmas smiling widely and looking around the bar, while Sam scanned the room looking for the owners. Cas stood in place, staring perplexed at the women dancing. You followed his gaze to the stage where one of the girls was swinging her hips slowly and deliberately to the beat of the song. You turned back to him, his head cocked to the side as he mumbled, “Well that’s inappropriate.”

Trying to hide the blush creeping to your cheeks, you quickly turned back around, just in time to see your old manager strutting towards you. You took a deep breath, ready for the coming bullshit. “Well well well,” he said with a smug smirk on his face. “If it isn’t Miss Daisy Duke herself.” You felt your cheeks get hot and heard Dean snort. “I’m sorry,” Dean said, looking at you like this was too good to be true. “Daisy Duke?” he repeated. Your cheeks were burning by this point, praying that the floor would open up and swallow you whole. 

“That’s right,” your old manager said in his chill inducing Southern drawl. “You know how it goes, ‘nice legs...daisy dukes...makes a man go-’” he whistled, finishing the line and turning your cheeks an even deeper red. “Miss Daisy here was our pride and joy,” he said, turning to Dean. “Best dance this bar has ever seen,” he finished, turning back to you. He smiled devilishly at you, humming in contentment. “To what do I owe the pleasure, Miss Daisy?” he asked sickeningly sweetly. Fighting to hold on to whatever shred of dignity you had left, you pulled out your fake badge and held it up. “It’s Agent Jett now, thanks,” you spat, flashing it in his face before putting it back in your jacket pocket. He squinted back at you. Sam cleared his throat in attempt to break the tension before telling him about the missing persons reports. Your old boss soaked in the information Sam was giving him, but stayed silent, still squinting at you. 

Sam looked uncomfortably between the two of you before clearing his throat again and asking, “Do you have any security cameras that might have caught anything? Any possible witnesses?” Your old boss shifted his glance to Sam and replied, “Maybe.” Sam stared back, waiting for him to continue. When he didn’t, Dean cut in. “Maybe?” he asked gruffly with an eyebrow cocked. Your old boss nodded, pursing his lips together. “Depends,” he stated simply, crossing his arms. You could tell Dean was losing his patience quickly because he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “On what?” he asked, voice tight. Your old boss simply shrugged. “On if Miss Daisy will give us another show tonight.”

Your jaw dropped open. Did he say what you thought he said? Sam, Dean, and Cas all turned to stare at you, trying to gauge your reaction. Dean looking more amused than anything, and Sam trying to see whether or not he had to step in between you. “I’m sorry, what?” you croaked. Your old boss gave you the same devilish smile that sent chills down your spine. “I said,” he took another step closer to you, “I’ll talk...if you would grace The Saloon with one last dance. For old time’s sake.” The three boys looked at you expectingly. You looked incredulously among them. “You can’t be serious,” you protested.

He was. You found yourself back in your motel room, changing out of your FBI clothes and into your shortest denim shorts and your most revealing tanktop. You silently cursed yourself for packing your boots, as it seemingly jinxed you into your current situation. After you were changed, you fell back into your old routine of hair and makeup, becoming almost unrecognizable in the mirror. As you were applying the last bit of hairspray, you heard a knock at your door. “Y/n, we gotta go!” you heard Dean yell. Sighing, you slipped into your boots, took one last look in the mirror, and summoned the courage to open the door. 

When you opened the door, it took them a second to react, all three reacting differently. Sam looked at you with raised brows and an amused smile, Dean whistled, and Castiel’s eyes widened before slowly trailing down your body. You felt yourself blush under his scrutiny, until it became unbearable and you snapped your fingers in his face. “My eyes are up here buddy,” you feigned anger, startling him from his trance. “I-uh m-my apologies, y/n” he stumbled over his words, looking down at his feet. Dean laughed and clapped his shoulder before walking towards Baby.

The drive over was silent, with the occasional ‘heh’ from Dean, as he thought about the ridiculousness of this day. You dreaded every mile he drove closer to the bar, wondering why Castiel couldn’t have just used his angel powers to make your old boss cough up whatever info he had. You sighed as Dean pulled up to the bar once again and begrudgingly opened your car door. “Did you guys really have to come?” you whined, trying to stall. “Of course we did princess. What if the demons are here tonight?” Dean said with a smirk. You rolled your eyes at the excuse. Sam turned to you with a look of pity. “Seriously though, y/n, if you’re uncomfortable at any point just say the word. We’ll leave and we can find another way to get the information,” he said and smiled softly. You nodded and sighed before making your way into the barn.

You opened the door and to your dismay, the place was packed. You groaned as you stepped further in before you made eye contact with one of your old coworkers. “Y/n?” she said shocked, a huge smile forming on her face. “Jimmy said you were coming but I didn’t believe him, no one did,” she said before pulling you into a huge hug. You relaxed into the hug, her being one of the very few people in town that you still kept in contact with. “Yeah well,” you said pulling back. “One night only kinda thing,” you finished, choosing to ignore the way her and Dean were eye-fucking next to you. She turned her attention back to you and took your hand. “Well, we better get you stage ready, Jimmy’s queuing up your signature!” she said excitedly, pulling you away. You threw a quick glance behind you at the boys before realization dawned on you. “Hey!” you yelled back to them, getting their attention. “Do NOT sit in this section!” you tried to point to the front left, but your friend was pulling you too fast and they just gave you confused looks. 

Before you knew it, you were back stage, pacing with anxiety. You heard the current song stop and you dreaded what was coming. “Ladies and gentlemen,” you heard Jimmy’s chilling voice draw out. “Please give a big Saloon welcome...returning back to the stage... Miss Daisy Duke!” You shoved your nerves down and forced a smile before strutting out on stage. You quickly fell back into your old routine, strutting around the stage and swaying your hips to your opening music. One dance and that’s all you said to yourself. You knew that from the song Jimmy had chosen, your signature, that in the middle of the routine you would have to go down to the audience and dance for whoever the spotlight shown on. You continued your dance, praying that the boys had listened to you and had chosen anywhere else to sit. As the part of the song drew closer, you scanned the audience to gauge about who you would be giving a lapdance to. Dean raised his hand to catch your scanning eyes, with the biggest smile you’d ever seen on him. You rolled your eyes before realizing that they hadn’t taken your warning and had sat in that section. 

You shot him a death glare before turning back to your dance, hoping that the spotlight would shine on anyone but them. The drunken cheers and whistles from the crowd were just about the only thing keeping you from running off stage and straight to the motel. You heard the cue in the music, prompting you to saunter down the main steps and into the audience. Sighing to yourself, you grabbed the mic and made your way to the steps. The music stopped, prompting your lines. “Gentlemen,” you said with your best honeyed Southern accent. “It’s one of your lucky nights” you finished, and the music started back up. You felt all eyes on you and tried to keep yourself from freaking out as you continued your routine. You heard the third cue in the music as the spotlight came down. You held your breath, praying that it would land anywhere but where it did. To your horror, it landed on Castiel.

Fuck you thought. The angel looked utterly confused, looking up and around him, completely thrown off by the sudden wash of light encompassing him. If it was possible, Dean’s smile grew even wider as he excitedly looked to Cas and clapped him on the shoulder. Castiel looked at him through furrowed brows, before following his gaze to you. You locked eyes with the bewildered angel, walking over to him as sexy as you could. A surge of confidence filled you when you saw his Adam’s apple bob and his jaw clench. In accordance with your routine, you walked right up to Castiel and kneeled in front of him, gently nudging his knees apart so you could settle between them. Castiel looked down at you with wide eyes, throat bobbing once more.

“And what might your name be, handsome?” you said into the mic, part of the routine. You held the mic out to Cas, which made him even more confused as he stared into your eyes, searching for any clue as to why you were asking for his name. The music was stopped again, waiting for his reply. Dean elbowed him, prompting him to answer. “Uh... Cas-Castiel,” he finally spat out. You mouthed a quick I’m so sorry and gave him an apologetic look before standing up and saying “Well, Castiel, I’ve got a special treat for you.” The music came back on and you handed the mic off to a stagehand, before turning back to Cas. 

With the spotlight still on him, you sauntered over to Castiel, swaying your hips to the music along the way. He sat unnaturally still, legs still apart from when you spread them, just barely exposing the small bulge beginning to form in his pants. You felt heat pool in your core at the sight, struggling to keep your focus on the routine. You made your way back in front of him, before turning away from him to swing your hips to the music. Turning back around, you saw him watching your movements closely, his once bright blue eyes now dark, pupils blown out from lust. You swallowed before placing your hands on his shoulders and climbing onto his lap. This surprised him, as his breath caught in his throat and his hands flew instinctively to your hips. You leaned in to whisper “don’t touch, the bodyguards won’t allow it.” He ripped hands off of you as if your skin burned him and he looked up at you with wide eyes.

You began grinding against him, moving your hips to the music and gaining more drunken cheers, one distinctively from Dean, earning him a smack on the back of his head from his younger brother. Castiel couldn’t care less about the audience, you had his undivided attention. He couldn’t help the noises coming from the back of his throat, nor could he seem to keep his vessel under control. His hands twitched at his sides, desperate to touch you. You felt him becoming harder and harder, making it more difficult for you to stay focused on your routine. You climbed off his lap, danced in front of him some more, and then sat back down, this time facing away from him. You ground you ass against his hardened member, earning a low moan from the angel. You felt your panties dampening, enjoying this just as much as he was. You continued grinding against him to the music, the crowd continuing to cheer, and Castiel continuing to squirm beneath you. 

Once more, you stood up from him, danced more of your routine, and straddled the utterly debauched angel. You worked hard to avoid eye contact, but slipped up and locked eyes with Castiel. To your delight, he donned the same desperate look from the dream you had earlier that morning. You shifted your hips to grind against him, causing his head to fall back to his shoulders and his mouth to part slightly. More heat pooled in your core the more you ground against him, a coil starting to form in your belly. Fuck you thought to yourself. Luckily, the fourth and final cue came in the music, signaling your return to the stage. You breathed a sigh of relief, climbed off of him, and pecked his cheek before sauntering back to the stage to finish the song. From the stage, you watched Castiel shift uncomfortably in his seat, trying and failing to conceal his tented slacks. 

Finally, the song ended and you blew a kiss to the crowd before skipping off stage, thankful to be done. While you were chatting with some of the girls, Dean came to get you, trying to hide his amusement as he told you Sam had gotten the tapes from Jimmy. You breathed a sigh of relief, glad that this night was over. Dean walked you back out to the car, where Sam and Cas were waiting. Cas looked up hearing footsteps, and his eyes widened when they met yours. He quickly looked down and avoided your stare until you got back to the car. The four of you got in silently and sat for a moment before you heard Dean breathe in as if he was about to say something. 

“Don’t,” you said quickly. “I don’t want to hear anything about tonight ever again. Capiche?” Dean muttered something under his breath and Sam gave you a tight nod, eager to also forget the events of the night. You took a deep breath and turned to Cas. “Castiel,” you began, and you could’ve sworn you saw him flinch at your words. “I really am sorry. I wasn’t expecting it to land on you, I told you three not to sit there..” you trailed off. He couldn’t meet your gaze. Instead he nodded and replied, “Our apologies for not realizing your meaning.” His eyes momentarily flicked up to yours before landing back down into his lap. You followed his gaze, and he seemingly noticed, as he once again shifted in his seat, trying to conceal the still obvious bulge.

This was going to be a fun ride back. 

[watchingspnagain]

Rewatching Simon Said

Welcome to “Better Messed Up Brothers: A Supernatural Rewatch Blog” with Lor and Mace!

 Up today, s2e5: Simon Said

 Sam has a vision of a man buying a gun, shooting the shop clerk, and then turning the gun on himself. The boys hasten to stop it before it happens, and almost succeed, sort of. It quickly becomes clear that the man was a victim of some sort of supernatural persuasion and then they happen to meet a dude who can Obi-Wan anyone into doing whatever he wants them to do. Turns out this dude is another of Yellow Eye's special children, and both Dean and Sammy are... uncomfortable with how this story seems to be playing out, especially as they discover that Dude has an evil twin brother who's behind the weird deaths.

 Below is a log of our real-time reactions as we watched. Remember that there may be spoilers for any part of SPN’s 15-season run here. Note also that the nature of our conversation is adult and thus it may contain adult language and themes.

  [and we begin:]

  Mace:

whoa, looong previously on

 Lor:

yeha

 Mace:

oh, THIS one

 Mace:

 with the stoner dude

 Lor:

and featuring Lying John

Lor:

YEP

 Mace:

 ooof yeah

 Lor:

lock the rest back up aaaauuuugh

 Mace:

HAHAHA

 Mace:

 ooof this scene is really well done - SO TENSE

 Lor:

RIGHT?

 Mace:

 poor Sammy

 Lor:

and this guy is amazing with his attitude that is so out of line with what's happening

 Lor:

yeah

 Mace:

YESYESYES

 Mace:

 "zip it up" DEAN

 Lor:

LOLOL

 Lor:

and then the way his face changes immediately

 Lor:

and he looks around to see what hurt or upset him

 Mace:

yeah

 Mace:

 DEAN WINCHESTER DO NOT CALL HIM A FREAK

 Lor:

ooof nice try at a save, Dean, but NOPE. you sort yourself right now

 Mace:

 snork

 Lor:

oh that DUMB popped collar I love it so much

 Mace:

 so does Jo

 Lor:

yeah she does. correct, jo, but back off

 Mace:

 omg Ash

 Lor:

YES

 Lor:

Dr. Badass

 Mace:

 YES

 Lor:

Sam and Dean exchanging that look

 Mace:

 Sam's poor troubled face

 Lor:

YES

 Lor:

OMG Dean's face

 Mace:

subtle Jo

 Mace:

 cripes

 Lor:

LOL

 Mace:

"he sings it from the hair"

 Mace:

 HAHAHAHA

 Lor:

lololol

 Mace:

 (he loves REO and we all know it)

 Lor:

(RIGHT?)

 Lor:

"look Jo it's kinda a family thing"

 Lor:

the way he resists opening up to her

 Mace:

 yeah, Jo, get out of it

 Lor:

YES

 Lor:

OMG now he's singing it

 Lor:

I luff him

 Lor:

aww, Sammy, let him enjoy it

 Mace:

 I don't think there's even enough interest to resist. it's just... he's not interested

 Lor:

she really isn't his type

 Mace:

 look, Dean called him a freak so he deserves that

 Lor:

HA! fair

 Mace:

mmmm I love the sound of coffee/tea being poured into a cup

 Mace:

 SUITS

 Lor:

YES

 Lor:

YAAAAAS

 Lor:

"that van is sweeeet"

 Mace:

 HAHAHA and Sam is having none of his nonsense

 Lor:

yeah

 Mace:

 oh Dean, honey, you're working so hard to convince yourself of all this

 Lor:

ooof this conversation

 Lor:

RIGHT?

 Mace:

 omg FRECKLES

 Lor:

YAAAAS

 Lor:

he is so darn CUTE

 Mace:

yep

 Mace:

 "sure, man!" HAHAHA

 Lor:

LOLOLOLOLOLOL

 Mace:

 I mean, you KNOW something's seriously wrong here

 Lor:

omg poor Dean

 Lor:

YES

 Lor:

mmm Sammy's innocent act after he pulls the fire alarm

 Mace:

YES

 Mace:

 OBI-WAN-ED

 Lor:

YES

 Mace:

 ooof poor Sam couldn't save the dude

 Lor:

yeah

 Lor:

awful

 Lor:

omg Sam all hunched over and Dean with the one hand on his shoulder

 Mace:

 YES

 Lor:

"I'm sorry baby I'll never leave you again"

 Mace:

 HAHAHA

 Lor:

okay but he was right aobut OJ

 Mace:

 snork

 Lor:

"let's have a look "

 Mace:

 "I like the Tiger" HAHAHA DEAN

 Lor:

DEEEAN

 Mace:

MOBY DICK'S BONG

 Mace:

 OMG

 Lor:

LOLOLOLOL

 Lor:

I WILL FEED YOU DEAN

 Mace:

 YAS

 Lor:

"Im trying"

 Mace:

 omg you can SEE him trying to stop talking

 Lor:

oooof the truth telling

 Lor:

YES

 Mace:

 Sam waving Dean to keep back

 Lor:

YES

 Mace:

 ugh, I can smell this scene

 Lor:

right?

 Mace:

 i mean the gasoline, not the burning flesh or anything

 Lor:

lolol I figured

 Lor:

Sam hurting and Dean in comfort mode I CANNOT

 Mace:

YAAAASSS

 Mace:

 Sam has SUCH a good troubled face

 Lor:

"this wasn't even a headstart"

 Lor:

YES

 Lor:

I kind of love that Andy is just content

 Mace:

YES

 Mace:

 a dinkus but a sweetheart

 Lor:

yep

 Lor:

omg the SW reference and then it makes Dean giddy

 Mace:

 YES because he made essentially the same reference earlier!

 Lor:

YES

 Mace:

"I have an evil twin"

 Mace:

 HAHAHA

 Lor:

lol

 Lor:

Dean checking on him

 Mace:

yeah

 Mace:

Anselm Weems

 Mace:

 i mean honestly

 Lor:

lol

 Lor:

I always forget it's the busboy douche

 Mace:

me too!

 Mace:

 ugh this scene

 Lor:

yeah

 Lor:

and he looks like a weird Elijah Wood and it weirds me out

 Mace:

 OMG I WAS JUST ABOUT TO SAY

 Lor:

LOL YES

 Lor:

what a sick little puppy

 Mace:

 yup

 Lor:

Sam and Dean are much better messed up brothers than these two

 Mace:

 HA! Yep

 Lor:

"you call him up you go out for a drink"

 Mace:

 HA!

 Lor:

I just really love that Andy has the same powers as his brother and thinks his brother is NUTS

 Mace:

 YES

 Lor:

YOU LEAVE MY DEAN ALONE

 Mace:

HAHAHA

 Mace:

 that's a harsh scene, too

 Lor:

thank you, Andy

 Mace:

 scary

 Lor:

IT REALLY IS

 Mace:

"you be good, Andy, or we'll be back"

 Mace:

 DAMN

 Lor:

"you be good, Andy. or we'll be back"

 Lor:

OMG

 Lor:

RIGHT?

 Mace:

YAS

 Mace:

 Oh Sam, you're fishing here

 Lor:

yeah

 Lor:

he's determined to be freaked out

 Lor:

which. I get it

 Lor:

"it's like being roofied, doesn't count"

 Mace:

 of COURSE he references rufees (sp?)

 Lor:

Right?

 Mace:

 i honestly have NO idea how to spell that

 Lor:

lol

 Mace:

 butt out Ellen

 Lor:

"NOW. Please."

 Lor:

"Nope. Not really."

 Mace:

do NOT call him boy, Ellen

 Mace:

 god, I don't like her

 Lor:

RIGHT?

 Lor:

like, normally I'd be all for someone doing that to Dean for... reasons. but she doesn't have the right

 Mace:

 exactly

 Lor:

that's Dean's little brother and he CAN tell you to buzz off cause this is a family thing, ELLEN

 Mace:

 YES

 Lor:

and it annoys me that Dean is susceptible to it (he turns around right quick) because RAISED BY JOHN

 Mace:

 he's pretty annoyed here at Ellen, though

 Lor:

yeah, he's annoyed but he starts telling her things. maybe he's more following Sam's lead though

 Lor:

I still reserve the right to be mad at John

 Mace:

 yeah I think that's more likely it - he's trying to control the message some and therefore keep Sammy safe

Lor:

Yeah

[cherry3point14]

The Wrong Winchester - One Year Later

Pairing: Dean x Reader, Sam x Eileen Warnings: Cavity protection required. Word Count: 12,304. (WHY) Summary: One year after the fiasco that was Fourth of July, you’re back in  Kansas and back at the Winchesters. This time with their other son. A/N: A sequel for the trope fluff fest that was The Wrong Winchester. Somehow this is fluffier and more trope-y! Listen, I didn’t say it was good, just that it exists. Happy 4th July my bitches! (*sobs in the corner* this was supposed to be a timestamp)

Ao3 if you prefer.

June has been cool this year, more so than normal, but then the heat of July hits like clockwork. Even though you enjoy airplanes, and the AC they provide, you’ve done the drive because Dean hates flying. It’s not even a compromise because the detour your journey takes means that it’s Thursday evening by the time you arrive in Lawrence. Sam and Eileen got there mid-morning. You’re hoping that the Winchesters are so distracted getting to know her that you can slip in like an old piece of furniture, unnoticed and ignored.

It’s when he turns the corner onto their street, and the family home looms in the distance, that it hits you. You’re here, again, and you’re doing this, again. And nobody would ever believe it but this is considerably worse because this time you love the guy sitting next to you.

Not that you’ve told him that yet. It’s been a slow year.

Loving Dean does complicate things though. It means that you care what the Winchesters think of you. Last year, pretending, was a walk in the park in comparison. You knew Sam was fake breaking up with you after you left. You could have cheated on Sam in front of him and it wouldn’t have mattered because it was all, well, fake.

Although you did kind of cheat on Sam in front of him. Boy, did you hope Sam hadn’t told them about that.

Now, the house you’re pulling up at makes your toes curl inside your shoes while hurried excuses start pouring out. “You’re positive you don’t want to stay in a hotel? Take the pressure off your mom having to entertain us and Sam and Eileen. That’s a lot of guests.” You nod to yourself convincingly while you stare at the front door.

He smiles at you like you’re adorable, which you don’t appreciate. “If you’re looking to make her hate you, then yeah, go ahead and tell my Mom you’re taking her firstborn to a hotel for the weekend.”

You huff and pout your lips so he knows exactly how frustrated you are, “I know you’re right, doesn’t mean I’m happy about it.”

“When are you ever?” He counters, smirking as he gets out of the car. You follow suit although you’re convinced that as your foot hits the stone driveway you can hear the ticking of a countdown. One small step for you, one giant leap to your doom.

Dean grabs your case and his duffel from the trunk, settling one on top of the other so that he has a free hand to wrap around your waist. It’s probably a picturesque image, him walking you to the house like that. You’re not sure if he’s being nice or making sure you don’t run away. Dean’s a smart man so it’s probably a little of both.

His hand reaches to open the door but even after the long drive from Chicago, your reactions are lightning-fast. You pull his arm back to stop him and answer the silent look on his dumb face, “shut up. We should knock.”

“Did you give Sammy this much trouble last year?”

His joke drags a smile out of you, not a laugh but a smile. He’s been trying to calm you down the whole journey. You don’t get nervous often, so seeing you this anxious has both worried and amused him. He’s settled for being supportive, he’s done everything he can to take your mind off of this moment. He told you exaggerated fake facts about Kansas to stop you complaining that the entire state was too damn hot. He distracted you with questions about the case you’re working on when you panicked about exactly how Sam had explained everything all those months ago. And most importantly he fed you. A few hours out he’d pulled into a drive-through and minutes later you’d found yourself pulled over on a random stretch of highway, legs crossed, and a brown paper bag in your lap. He’d wiped sauce from the corner of your mouth and watched you wolf down cheese fries.

Dean knew how to keep you happy for the hours you’ve spent in Baby. But now that you’re finally standing at the threshold he, apparently, thinks it’s time to throw you to the wolves, which he does, literally.

In one swift movement, the door is open before you can rap your knuckles against it and he uses his arm—the one that’s around your waist—to guide you inside. Except guiding you inside is more like a gentle push, which means you trip your way into the Winchester family home while Dean remains safely on the porch.

“What the f-?” The end of your sentence never makes it past your lips, thankfully, considering the gathering in the living room as you turn your head.  

Sam and Eileen are sitting opposite Mary and John, all of them holding a drink, clearly mid-conversation. They all stop. Four pairs of eyes are now trained on you. Even after a too-long second has passed none of them move as if your presence has frozen them in time. A perpetual state of being horrified by your existence.

“Dean!?” You don’t exactly shout but there’s a worried twang to your voice and still, none of them move. In fact, Sam doesn’t even attempt to help, which is a betrayal you won’t allow to pass unpunished or forgotten.

That’s for another day. Right now you’re about thirty seconds away from your first actual panic attack in years.

Dean slips in behind you, eventually. Even walking in with the bags he’s more graceful than you had been stumbling in. Not that you compliment him on that. You’re too preoccupied because you might have broken the Winchesters.

“Honey!” Mary beams with happiness at the sight of her eldest son and jumps up from her seat like a mannequin come to life. Whatever spell had been cast breaks so quickly that it might not have happened at all. Every single person takes a breath again and Mary walks over, wine forgotten on the coffee table, to hug Dean the way you’d seen her do a year ago.

“Mom!” He hugs her back, wrapping her up in his arms and lifting her from the floor an inch or two. You want to say he’s the cutest thing ever with that childlike smile on his face.

That’s what you want to say.

Unfortunately, the innocence doesn’t last as his expression morphs into a cocky smirk with a waving hand in your direction once he lets his mother go. “You remember Y/N, right?”

Is he freaking kidding?

Mary’s face steels, as if Dean had never entered the room. Your best friend and his girlfriend, who you know pretty well at this point, remain safely in their seats. And your boyfriend, your goddamn boyfriend who you love and trust, is standing there at an arm's length like this is an early fireworks display. The fuses have been lit and he is waiting for the explosives to go off.

The only person in the room who dares to make eye contact with you—outside of the matriarch—is John freaking Winchester. And he has the audacity to smile sweetly at you. Or as sweetly as John Winchester is capable of.

“Of course I remember Y/N.” Mary’s words are friendly but her tone does not mirror the sentiment. She taps her chin with one extended finger, thinking, “you were on Sam’s arm last year, if I remember rightly.”

You were going to murder Sam and thanks to your job you’d get away with it too. “I’m so sorry Mary, Sam told me he explained. It was all a misunderstanding, I was only…”

“Only jumping around between my boys? Or was the misunderstanding when we welcomed you into our home and you lied to us?”

You may have met your match. You could never admit this to the district attorney's office but Mary has found a way to silence you with a stare. Your lips snap shut without a good answer for her. You feel like a child being chastised for making a mess.

In fairness you had made a mess last year, however, you cleaned it up afterward.

Your eyes dart to the still-open front door before you rummage up an answer. “I don’t think jumping between them is very fair, Sam and I weren’t a real thing. I mean we’re still besties, even if he won’t call us that, but we were pretending. Which is still wrong but I defy any of you to say no to him when he does that dopey puppy face of his. Anyway I know he told you it was his idea, because it was, and I made sure he told you that because I don’t want you thinking that I came up with it and…”

“Great, you got her stuck in a loop, Mom.” Dean grumbles with a roll of his eyes.

“What?” You interrupt your own rambling to frown at him.

That’s when it happens. Mary breaks out into a grin so similar to Dean's that it’s frightening. If Sam got his smile from his mother then Dean inherited her devious smirk.

“It was your idea.” She answers your seemingly caring boyfriend.

You’re confused, as you should be. Hours. Days. Weeks of dreading this moment and this weekend. None of this makes any sense.

“I hate to sound like a broken record but, what?”

Mary turns her brightness on you, in the distance, John barks out a laugh and cracks his hand against his thigh as if this all went completely as planned.

“I’m sorry Y/N. We were only playing. It’s great to see you again.”

Then she hugs you, stiff as you may be from the complicated mix of annoyance and residual fear that you’re feeling. Her arms around you exude motherly warmth, something you’re unfamiliar with, until your muscles relax in her grip.

Over Mary’s shoulder, Dean is pressing his lips together to stop himself laughing and then finally your brain catches up. That bastard set you up. He sold you down the river. Still mid-hug you silently mouth to him, “I’m going to kill you.”

That sends Dean over the edge and a deep belly laugh escapes him. He doesn’t even attempt to apologize. He’s too caught up in how funny he thinks he is.

“So, you were all in on this? You too Sammy?” You splay your hand across your chest now that Mary has released you.

Mary links her arm with yours and leans in as if she didn’t rob you of ten years of your life, “if it helps Eileen told us we were being mean.”

You smile at Eileen, your now very good friend, as you take a seat next to her, “at least someone has my back.”

She shrugs nonchalantly, “well, Sam’s girlfriends need to stick together.”

And just like that. The final knife in your back sets them all off howling with laughter again. This was obviously going to be a long weekend.

It's not even day one, that starts tomorrow. It's been a few hours at best and you're already in bed and staring a hole in the ceiling. Ordinarily, you might be questioning why there is a suspicious rectangle that is whiter than the rest. As if the patch of paint had seen less light than the rest of the room like a poster had been there or something.

“You gotta tell me.”

You scoff. He has done nothing to earn any answers from you so far. Looking after you during the journey must have been an act to lull you into a false sense of security because he jumped ship as soon as you arrived. Winchesters are a tight-knit bunch.

“Come on, please?”

It sucks that you love this idiot, it sucks that you haven’t told him, it’s even worse that you cannot resist him. You roll over to his whining voice and prop yourself up on your elbow. It was foolish to ever hope for a good night's sleep when he’s amped up to be in his childhood home again. You can’t say that you remember him being like this last year but, then again, last year you were avoiding him since you were pretending to date his brother. “Oh my god, if I tell you will you let me sleep already?”

Dean nods, using a finger to draw a cross over his chest. Even in the dark, you can see the crinkles of his eyes deepen playfully, “cross my heart. I’ll even help you get off to sleep, by way of apology.” His fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear to hint at his meaning, under his oversized Zeppelin shirt you’re sleeping in.

“Nice try Benedict Arnold, I haven’t forgotten what you did to me.”

He knows by the tone of your voice he won’t get anywhere right now, although it’s nothing to do with his betrayal. You’re still obsessed with somehow clawing back any semblance of a good impression. Sex in his childhood bed doesn’t strike you as the correct way to go about that. He doesn’t tease and try to change your mind with filthy words he knows you love. You think maybe Dean knows tonight isn't the night either. Maybe that’s why he’s asking questions instead.

His hand slides up over your waist and settles comfortingly around your middle—almost as if he knows he has some groveling to do. He asks again hoping to get one of the things he wants; answers. “C’mon. Just tell me. I’ll tell you mine.”

You haven’t spoken much about last year with Dean and you were absolutely fine with that. Last Fourth of July wasn’t exactly a Kodak moment for you. It almost cost you Sam and as much as you love Dean, Sam’s friendship is one of the very foundations of your adult life. Sure last year was the kind of thing you’ve joked about, but the nitty-gritty details had stayed where they should, in the past.

However, being back here, albeit in the next room over to the one you’d previously occupied, has apparently opened the topic up for conversation.

“Fine. You really want to know?”

“With all my heart.”

“God, you’re lucky you’re cute. At the airport. Okay?”

His smile widens until you can see his teeth shine. “You’re joking?”

You bury your face in the pillow, only coming up for air when necessary despite the way he pokes your sides to make you squirm. “No, I’m not joking. I wasn’t sleepy getting off the plane. I was trying to figure out if there was a way for me to make out with my fake boyfriend's hot older brother.”

“You were too good for your fake boyfriend anyway.” He presses a chaste kiss to your lips, “too good for me too.”

He shouldn’t be allowed to catch you off guard like that, it’s against the rules. Yet he does it all the time. The sweetest secrets whispered in your ear while you’re brushing your teeth or watching a movie. As if he needs to tell you as soon as the thought pops into his head. And it’s not fair because he deserved some silent treatment or something. You know he’ll be back to his tricks tomorrow, so he should pay tonight. But now instead of being annoyed at him, your lips are following his while you realize you were never really mad in the first place.

His wandering hand moves to wrap around your neck, his fingers are lost in your hair and his thumb traces over your jaw. This is the classic Dean trick. He thinks he’s so smooth and that one day he’ll manage to keep you attached to his mouth forever if he holds you there, just right.

As much as you want to appease him, it never lasts. Eventually, you always need air in your pesky, needy lungs. Tonight though it ends with your hand on his chest nudging him off of you. “No way. You owe me yours. Come on, when did you start like-liking me?” You finish the question in a sarcastically childish voice.

Dean is nothing if not fair, sometimes, and he would never break a promise. He leans back a little and adopts what you have dubbed his ‘thinking face’. It may be nighttime but you’d recognize that furrowed brow anywhere.

“When I found you in my bedroom.” He finally answers.

It takes a whole second to remember. “Really? You mean when I was trying to find the bathroom?”

“Yeah, I mean a guy comes back to his room and finds a pretty girl...”

It’s your turn to frown, “wait. Correct me if I’m wrong but you’re saying that your ‘moment’ was when you found me in your room, in my pajamas, with bed head and a full bladder?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. You were all cute an’ twitchy when I caught you, then suddenly you’re all fired up and telling me off for making fun of you. You were a little spitfire.”

You drop your forehead to his chest and let out a laugh. Trust Dean to like you because you busted his balls.

He presses a kiss to the top of your head, “good enough answer?”

You yawn, happily, and shimmy down into bed proper. “It was your game De. The question is are you happy with yours?”

He settles down next to you, close enough to hear the deep, “mm hmm” in his throat.

Almost everything is different this year but one fact remains the same. You can take the running gear from Sam but you can’t stop Sam from going running.

He has emergency running shoes in his closet.

The new part is that you’re up as early as he is. You’re sitting on the sofa with your laptop propped up on your knees, with yet another witness statement that you were sure was made up. It was too perfect and a jury would never buy it.

By the time Sam, the sweat machine, returns you’re typing a passive-aggressive email to that effect.

“You had any coffee yet?” He asks with two mugs in his hands, passing one to you.

You take the mug without looking up from the screen and swallow a scalding sip, which you only half notice burns your tongue. “Obviously not. Your mom is in there and she still scares me.”

He laughs but doesn’t question it. He doesn’t need to. Dean may have dealt with you on the long drive and whenever he was in town but Sam deals with you every day. He has been privy to almost every one of your breakdowns in the last month. June felt longer than thirty days.

Sam sits down next to you and starts watching the news channel you’d been ignoring. It takes a minute but eventually, he grabs the remote to pause the screen, “ah, there’s my favorite celebrity lawyer.”

You don't need to look up to know that you are on the TV.

“I won’t be anyone’s lawyer if I don’t figure out why my client insists on lying to me and getting people to lie on his behalf.” Your fingers get dangerously close to pounding the plastic keyboard into smithereens. “Hasn’t he heard of attorney-client privilege?”

“Okay. I think you need a little break from that.” He says prying the laptop from you and closing it on the coffee table, so you can’t see the screen anymore.

You want to be mad at him but, of course, you can’t. You look up at him and his soft smile that’s all kinds of sympathetic to the workload you’ve been bearing of late. If you weren’t being driven insane by the biggest case of your career then maybe you’d be a little more rational when it came to this weekend.

Although, that’s unlikely. You were always going to go crazy about this particular get together.

“I swear sometimes I think he’s actually stupid. I’m trying to help him. Why did he even think he could escape arrest in the third most populated city in America?” You shuffle yourself so that you’re sitting sideways and facing him. Despite your insults about your client, the question is earnest.

“Probably figured it’s the only way he’d get to hire you.”

You roll your eyes, “sure, that’s why I’m co-counsel to fucking New York’s finest Marcus Delaney, who he trusts like a fucking brother.”

Sam widens his eyes at you in warning but you catch on too late; his mother is in the next room. You both hold your breath waiting for a reaction. When nothing happens you relax and he answers the least important part of your statement, “technically you’re a New York native too.”

“Objection, relevance?”

“Well, you mentioned…”

“Nah-uh. Enough about me. You took my laptop away so now we have to talk about you.” You smirk into your cup.

Sam knows where this is going. He told you his news two entire weeks ago, it worked like a charm and was also the biggest mistake of his life. Because two weeks ago Sam invited you to his office for lunch and told you over takeout that he was getting married.

He wanted to tell you because you’re his best friend. He’d told you before Dean and sworn you to secrecy until he’d called his brother later that day. Both of you knew the news was coming anyway, so it wasn’t really a race. Sam had been wringing his hands over how to ask the love of his life for weeks before he did it. You only found out about the ‘yes’ before Dean, because Sam had been trying to calm you down after another ‘4th of July freak-out’.

Sam had forgotten what happens if a seven-year-old gets their hands on too much sugar. Or, to be more precise, what happens when he gives a big, juicy, sensitive piece of information to you. Now he can't get you to shut up about it.

He sighs. He’s still facing the TV even though your eyes are on him. “I should have let you keep working, shouldn’t I?”

“Too late for that, Sammy. Have you decided when you’re telling everyone yet?”

He shifts to side-eye you, “oh, yeah. I was thinking, how about never?”

“You can’t bring your devoted fiance home for the weekend and not tell them!” You’re keeping your voice low but it’s insistent all the same.

“Ok. What about at the airport?”

“We’re dropping you back to the airport.”

“Right, before that then.”

You laugh, “why did you even come this weekend if you’re going to chicken out?”

“I’m not going to chicken out but, would it be so bad if I did? I brought you last year to avoid my Mom's crazy and now… I mean this will be like Defcon two.”

You wonder, briefly, what triggers Defcon one. Considering how quickly Mary had asked you if you were pregnant last year, you’d wager it’d be grandchildren.

In the pause where you both sip your morning caffeine again, neither of you notice the slight creak. The kind of creak where a door begins to open but never does.

“All I’m saying is, getting married is an amazing thing. It’s time to share the happy news. Hell, I’ll go wake Dean and we can do it now.”

“That’s easily the worst idea you’ve ever had. And I’m including the outfit you wore to the first office Christmas party.”

He’s walking right into your trap. “I dusted that number off for your brother over Christmas, you know.”

“Oh god. I don’t need to know about you and-and him-and a sexy Santa's helper costume.” He actually gets up, sweeps his mug with him, and sours his face.

“You brought it up, Sammy!” You're grinning all wide and evil, calling after him.

He pauses with his back leaning against the kitchen door, at the same time that Eileen walks in. “I hate you.”

You look up at her and sigh, “you see the way he talks to me when you’re not around?”

This is not the first time Eileen has been caught in the middle of you two, so she laughs and promises, “I’ll talk to him about that.”

Sometimes Dean likes to yank your chain and sometimes you like to yank his. It’s what makes you kind of perfect for each other, any bruised egos or pouting lips are part of the game you play. An excellent example is the way he’d betrayed you already this weekend. You weren’t mad, well, maybe a little, but in the end, you forgave him because it’s him.

In all the jokes there’s one thing that Dean knows not to play around with, one thing that he wouldn’t dare mess with.

Winchester. Family. Baseball.

You had agreed to wear his dumb spare jersey the same as you’d done for Sam. Like Eileen was doing for Sam this year. Although you had to admit her shorts are a little more family-friendly.

You’d even made a sign. A big piece of poster board, some markers, glitter, and stickers that you had gone to Target to buy special. It said GO TEAM DEAN! With a heart to dot the exclamation point. The sign was a surprise. When you’d shown him before leaving for the game he’d called you a dork and smiled so wide you worried his face might break.

You were ready for the game because you were safe. The worst thing that you expect is the comments when you turn up with a ‘1’ on your shirt this year instead of a ‘2’. You’ve already dealt with this from Mary and John but you weren’t so blind to forget about the rest of the family.

Charlie laughs at you when she notices, straight away, and threateningly asks for the story later. Bobby simply says, “switched teams, huh?” Before walking off. Granted he doesn’t seem to judge you, merely stating the observation like an interesting factoid. And Gabe starts, “lookie here when do I-” but smartly stops. He’s too tongue in cheek to be offensive but the look on Deans’ face might have something to do with his change of heart.

All of that you could handle. Par for the course. You had been ready for it because—can’t stress this enough—you were safe. Today was going to be a fun day of cheering on your boyfriend at his weird family baseball game.

You’re so sure of yourself that you even helped Mary pack drinks and snacks, with Eileen as a buffer, because you knew you’d get to enjoy said food. As a spectator.

When John does his ‘gather round me for I am John Winchester’ bit to pick the teams you’re choosing your spot in the stands. A little area in the front row for you, Mary and Eileen where you’re putting the food. You don’t join said gathering because that’s how not relevant it was to your life. You’d find out the teams when they’re playing and you’re only fifteen feet away from them all. You can hear them barking out names fine.

Dean picks Micheal. Sam makes a comment like ‘big surprise’. Bickering ensues until John gets them to focus up.

You could write this stuff in your sleep. You don’t want to call them predictable, considering this was only your second year here, but sometimes the truth is right there in front of you. And the truth is Winchester family baseball is going exactly how you expect.

Actually it’s the one thing that is going how you expect this weekend. Frankly, you needed that, some stability. Something you could rely on.

“Y/N”

Time slows down. In your head, you can hear that siren noise from Kill Bill and the world is suddenly devoid of color, except one. A red light flashes over your vision, as you turn in comically slow motion to find out which one of those idiots betrayed you.

Dean. Of course. The goddamn one you’re in love with.

He has the absolute gall to wave at you from where he’s standing. Smiling like, well, like it’s Fourth of July weekend and he innocently picked his girlfriend to play a game with him. That’s what it must look like to his family anyway.

To you? You feel like Lady Macbeth. Disappointed and betrayed by your significant other who can't do his one job. You’re not even asking him to kill the King of Scotland, all he had to do was not say your name.

Before you have an opportunity to write yourself out of this tragedy, he’s waving you over and your legs start walking. Apparently your body listens to him more than it listens to your own brain. Was nothing sacred anymore?

“There’s my girl.”

Those words would normally make you weak at the knees. Unfortunately for Dean, when it comes to baseball, you’re not melting that easy.

When you reach him you smile until you’re close enough to mutter dangerously, “I’m going to make you disappear and it'll look like an accident.”

You notice people dispersing which means your amazing boyfriend waited to call you till last. Not only did he screw you over but he made you the embarrassing last pick.

He leans in to kiss you and breathes against you, “you know you love playing with me.”

God, you do. You love playing with this dick, who apparently hates you, as well as his dick. Not baseball granted but other games.

“‘Sides,” he continues in your silence, “you don’t want to let all that practice go to waste.”

“All that practice? Practice?” You pull your head back, unable to resist showing him how offended you are, “you mean the time you forced me to go to the batting cages?”

He crosses his hands at your back and pulls you to him until your thighs are pressed against his. Were it not for his jeans then it would be incredibly inappropriate for a family baseball game. Actually, with the jeans, it might still be inappropriate.

“I seem to remember someone enjoying my arms wrapped around her while I taught her how to hit. I also seem to remember that someone forgot all about me in a damn second once she could do it on her own.”

“It was very stress relieving, I kept pretending the ball was the dummy who took me to the batting cages.”

A laugh rumbles through him, his body is so close to yours that you feel it in your stomach.

“Come on, this will be fun. You need more fun.”

You poke a finger into his chest, an inch above the collar of his jersey, “don't pretend you're doing me a favor. if I remember the rules, I don’t have a choice. But don’t you worry, I won’t forget this.”

He grins in that ‘brighter than the sun’ Dean way, “I know baby. I know.”

You’d made it home four times, an impressive three more than last year. None of them were from hitting a home run or anything preposterous. You do hit the ball almost every time though. You still couldn’t catch, throw or run--all three skills are apparently super essential in baseball. You can connect the bat with the ball though. Everyone seems pretty impressed every time it happens, if only they knew how impressed you were every time you manage it.

Your lack of skills aside, when Dean wins, he leans you over his arm and kisses you rightly. As if it’s V-J day and he single-handedly stopped WWII. Eileen sneaks up on Sam, from where she’d been watching in the stands. Although your ASL is not perfect, you’re at least 80% sure that her hand's sign “sucks to be you,” as she walks to him. You might love her a little more than you did ten minutes ago and Sam laughs a little harder too.

Dean chooses a steakhouse. The place is all wood paneling and soft lighting. The ambiance reminds you of your first real date in Chicago, although there will probably be less sticky fingers. From the ribs, obviously.

Mary and John drive ahead and they’re waiting outside when you all arrive. You’ve told Eileen to be prepared, told her to have her wits about her, promised her you’ll jump in if necessary. She’d told you not to worry.

Oh, you hate to see it happen.

As soon as you’re inside you volunteer to sit next to John, it’s the smallest kindness you can do for your friend. She should sit between the safety of Sam and Dean for what is to come.

It starts as you expect and it’s strange being on the other side of the interrogation. Nobody gives a flying crap about what drink or food you order but Eileen? She gets the same treatment you had last year. Silence and an entire table waiting to hear what she has to say. She’s the shiny, new thing everyone is interested in. You’re both glad and sorry. Glad the heat is taken off of you and sorry that it’s Eileen bearing the brunt of it.

Although—and it’s not your imagination—they are a hell of a lot easier on her than John had been on you. It presumably helps that Eileen is a Librarian. Her stories are all child reading groups and teaching elderly people how to use email in the computer room. Even you find yourself a bit smitten and you already knew her.

You’re trying not to focus on her too much though. Let her charm Mary and John, she doesn’t need another face watching her while she talks. Instead, you concentrate on your appetizer, one of those deep-fried onion things you’re sharing with Dean. The unspoken agreement is if you eat smelly food then you do it together.

He shakes his head, making eye contact with you as he takes a particularly over the top bite, when you’re pulled back into the main conversation.

“Y/N, where did you spend Christmas last year?”

“I’m sorry?” You ask somewhat dazed by being called on so soon.

Mary smiles kindly, “Eileen mentioned her parent's cabin, which I know is where they spent Christmas. I realized I had no idea where you spent the holidays?”

“Sure. I-erm, I stayed in Chicago.” Dean's hand under the table surprises you when you feel the weight of him on your knee.

“Oh, funnily enough, I remember Dean saying he was in Chicago too and I thought to myself how strange that was with Sam being gone.”

Everyone laughs at her joke, even your boyfriend while he moves his hand up your thigh.

“Didn’t want to head to New York and see your parents?” She continues her line of inquiry.

You have no idea where she’s going with it, why you’re the one in the hot seat, or why Dean is driving you crazy with his thumb rubbing those incessant circles in your skin. You answer anyway.

“N-No. They go to Europe every other Christmas so they’ll be home this year.”

Mary takes a bite of whatever-the-hell is on her plate. “The boys are coming to us this year too, I guess we’ll have to get better about syncing these things up, huh?”

His hand alone wouldn’t normally drive you as crazy as it is right now. He’s only tapping a slow, teasing rhythm into your thigh for crying out loud. But it’s been a few days and before that a few weeks, and you’d been resolved to not sully this wholesome family weekend. So, your breath is just a touch shorter than normal when he squeezes, and you can only hide it by talking.

“Yeah, yeah. I guess we will.” You agree easily.

“I’m looking forward to meeting your parents, yours too Eileen. Do you think we’ll be meeting yours before Christmas Y/N? Any other big events coming up?”

Were you not focusing on the heat of his hand under your skirt then you might be suspicious of the way she asks that. As it is Dean chooses then to wink at you because he thinks it's hilarious how preoccupied you are.

“Erm, Thanksgiving?”

“Right, right. Thanksgiving.” She smirks like she has a secret.

You stand up suddenly, needing to get away from your teasing boyfriend, “sorry. I’m going to go use the restroom.”

“Hurry back.” Dean’s mocking tone follows you.

Were his parents not at the table you'd tell him to go to hell.

Saturday morning comes faster than you expected. You did have a jump on the long weekend because you’d all taken a day off work this year but Saturday still seemed to have jumped from a cupboard to surprise you.

You wake up as you often do when you share Dean’s bed. One of you, today it’s him, has the other one, you, in what can only be described as an inescapable hold. He’s got one arm wrapped around you, fingers hanging loose over your stomach where you’re laying on your side. His other arm is encroaching on your pillow to surround you and his head is curled in your neck. His breath is slow and hot over your skin. You never imagined that you’d enjoy waking up like this, so incredibly close to someone. And then you met Dean. Sometimes you wrap him up in your sleep, your fingers in his hair, and one leg thrown over his. Either way one always claims the other and you wouldn’t want anything different.

Except at this very second.

Dean is a light sleeper. A bit of a contradictory trait for someone who likes to sleep as much as he does—yours is not to question why—but you never want to willingly wake him if you can avoid it. You’re more than happy to let sleeping Dean’s lie. When you don’t need the bathroom that is.

Even though this isn’t your first time trying you still give it your best shot to slip out without disturbing him.

You think you’re getting there. You’ve managed to roll onto your back for an easier way out, his face is now smashed into his pillow instead of your back, you’ve slipped down the bed a little to get away from his hand on your pillow. It’s only that arm across you that you need to get free from. Today is the day that you’ll finally manage to pee without waking him up. The trick, you think, is not to touch him. You’ve been burned before by trying to lift his arm off of you when you only need to slip out from under it.

“Come on, five more minutes.” He mumbles, fingers come to life to hold you tighter and you swear you see his lip curl because you’ve failed to sneak away again.

“I need to pee.” Who says romance is dead?

He huffs, you’ve hit on what he deems an acceptable reason to let go of you. Barely.

Not that he eases up. You have to wiggle from his hold which makes you crack your first smile of the day. Despite your need to hurry you bend over him and press a kiss to his cheek. “How about I get some coffee while I’m up, see if I can get you to forgive me?”

“You can try.” He mutters in his half-sleep state.

The house is quiet when you leave the bathroom, ridiculously quiet for how full of people it will be later. The calm tricks you into feeling invincible, where nobody else exists save for you and the man you left in bed.

“Morning Y/N.” Mary is sitting at the kitchen table, drinking coffee, and not doing much else.

“Oh my god!” You recoil with your whole body, arms bent into your chest like you’re trying to stave off a heart attack. You can be a little dramatic at times but the way she’s sitting in silence, illuminated only by the early morning light from the backyard, almost gives the illusion of her appearing out of thin air. “Sorry, Mary. I must be easy to scare first thing in the morning.”

A slow smile spreads over her face, “no I’m sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I like a few minutes of peace before the boys are up is all.”

You grab two mugs, a pretty clear indication you plan to take coffee back to Dean, but before you can fill both she makes you an offer you can’t refuse. “You and I both know he is already back to sleep, he’ll keep for a few minutes. Sit with me.”

Dean's empty mug, your excuse to leave, gets left on the counter with most of your hopes and dreams. The only thing you try to cling to is that Mary wants to carry on sitting in silence, only, together.

“Y/N, we haven’t had a chance to talk, just you and me. Not since last year.”

Or maybe, just maybe, she’d been waiting for you all along.

“I guess we haven’t. I-eh, I really did mean what I said when I got here Mary. I’m sorry about everything.”

“I’m not trying to rake you over the coals here, and I’m not looking for another apology. I know what my sons think of me, Sam thinks I’m crazy. You were being a good friend.” She shrugs like it's that simple.

It’s kind of ridiculous how quickly you relax, and how quickly you start spilling your guts, “The lying though. I don’t feel good about that.”

Mary is quick. She leans over the table and wraps her hand around yours, “I don’t remember that much lying. I could tell you loved Sam last year and if that’s like a brother, I’m still glad he has you.”

She’s right. You do love Sam like a brother, the one you never had. He’s been more your family than your own. The first family you’d chose and only real family you had, which is why you’d been so scared at first. It’s why you’d been so quick to run from Dean at the risk of losing Sam. Hell, sometimes you wonder if it’s one of the many reasons you love Dean—because he’s the only other person on the planet who loves Sam as much as you do.

Your fingers twitch under her hand, unsure of the loving way she holds you. Unsure if you deserve it or why she offers it so easily. Whatever the answer is, she has your guard down.

“What about Dean?” It’s a loaded question. You need someone else to see what’s there before you can admit it to him. You're looking for confidence because you are unsure of his feelings. Who better to judge than his own mother?

She squeezes enough to tell you that you’re looking down at your coffee instead of looking at her, before she pulls back to lift her mug to her lips again. “That’s obvious Y/N.” She almost sounds bored at such an easy question, ”I knew I was right all along.”

"Right about what?”

Not even a pause. If she was indeed waiting for you this morning then she was waiting for you to ask this question.

“That you are going to be a Winchester someday.”

“No-I, no…” You trail off to nothing and it’s not because of the way Mary is still grinning despite your protests. It’s not her raised eyebrows over the rim of her cup. It’s not even the little hum like noise she lets out in affirmation that yes, you would wear the big 'W' as your last name.

It’s that you can see it. You’ve had a year of long-distance with Dean; scheduled weekends and facetime dates. You’ve been itching to tell him how you feel but terrified of scaring him away, scared of moving too quickly with the guy you don’t see enough, scared he doesn’t feel the same. And yet in the back of your mind, the vision is forming, pushing its way to the front without permission. Dean on one knee. You in a white dress. The moment you both say ‘I do’.

Is this what becoming a hopeless romantic feels like? Or were you always this much of a total sap?

“Don’t worry, I know.” She reiterates again.

Mary has a reputation, she’s pushy enough, so you assume that’s what this is. You assume she’s making a premonition, not looking for confirmation of something she thinks she already knows. So, you look to escape what you think is the awkwardness that you can’t answer.

“I’m going to get Dean his coffee or-or we’ll never get him out of bed.”

She nods you to leave but disagrees with your evaluation, “I think you underestimate how much my son loves fireworks.”

You smile wide, remembering how his face lit up in the dark the year before, “You’re right. Still, I should go get him up.”

Then you pour more coffee, including Deans, and run. If anyone else caught wind of this conversation they would never believe you were a defense lawyer, let alone the lawyer who’s been plastered over the news defending a celebrity on a murder case.

Dean has, predictably, gone back to sleep since you left. Although the light sleeper that he is, he is roused by the door opening and the smell of coffee.

“Baby?”

That’s all it takes to make you forget the conversation with Mary ever happened. You can’t help but laugh at his sleepy voice as you slip in next to him, careful not to spill anything while he fidgets awake, “who else would wake you up like this?”

He rubs at his eyes, “oh, y’know, my other girlfriend.”

“You’ll have to introduce us one day, we can compare notes.”

You’re still not used to the Winchester’s if you’re being completely honest. To you, barbecue has always been a type of food, and not necessarily one your parents approved of. It was never a place, a home. That’s what today is. Saturday afternoon and the sun is high, there's a faint twang of country music coming from somewhere. Not loud enough to hear the lyrics but loud enough to identify the genre, loud enough to wish you were wearing a cowboy hat. Everyone has a beer or a burger, or both. And it’s not all dopey eyed niceties. There are teenagers, Claire and Alex, hating everyone from the other end of the yard. Occasionally there’s a “screw you” or a “you idjit” shouted from the many random conversations happening. But it’s still somehow perfect in the imperfections. It’s cozy and homely. It’s a family. Love.

It would be easy to feel overwhelmed and convince yourself that you don’t belong. It’s lucky that you have your boyfriend. And since he has disappeared on you, Sam and Eileen. Although she is doing a much better job than you at fitting in.

“She’s going to make me look bad,” you tell Sam while you both watch Eileen animatedly tell Uncle Bobby something that makes him howl. Even his stoic expressions are hidden behind his beard but Eileen is a stand-up comedian, apparently

“That’s not hard is it?” He teases.

“That might hurt if you hadn’t picked me to bring last year, to protect her from all this.” You use the neck of your bottle to draw a circle in the air around the whole motley crew of his family.

Before you register his movement he has an arm around your shoulders, you’re expecting a headlock so you’re pleasantly surprised when he pulls you into a side hug. “That’s the first time you’ve joked about it since… since last year. I’m glad. Everyone else is over it, you’re the only one hanging on Y/N/N.”

You don’t want to choke up in the middle of their backyard but sometimes Sam’s big brother moments hit you like that. “I never said I was very good at letting things go.”

He huffs. “You’re too tough sometimes. That’s why I picked you to help me.” He sucks in a slow breath, “you have to get out of your head... and maybe stop being so annoying.”

You shove him back so he can’t lean on you but now you’re out of his hold he’s looking down at you with those damn puppy dog eyes. He hasn’t asked for something which means he’s trying to use them to make you feel better. You hadn’t realized you’d needed to feel better, was your face sad enough to warrant a Sam pep talk

“I’m fine,” you wave away his concern. “Have you decided yet?”

“And there I was hoping you’d forget.”

“Is Eileen happy to let you forget?” You counter him with an expectant look. “She wants to tell them but she’s happy to let me make the decision since it’s my family.” He says in a pointed, not pointed way.

You shake your head, “she’s going too easy on you. Good thing you have me to put you in line.”

“I thought I was the line?” It takes you a beat, you’re actually surprised he remembered you saying that to John.

“No, that was what I had to say when I was being paid to make you look good.” His face turns somber, “I never paid you.”

“Tomayto, tomahto Sammy.” You finish the beer in your hand, “you know I’m not pushing you, right? If you don’t do it, there’s always Christmas, or send a save the date.”

He shoves at you this time and the air returns to its normal lightness. “I know. You only want me to put on my big boy pants.”

“I could care less about your pants. I want you to take the heat off me, obviously.” You hold up your bottle to him, “I’m out. You need another one?”

He chuckles, ducks his head, and looks at his fiance again. “Yeah, dutch courage might help.”

“Dare to dream.” You sympathize, patting him on his shoulder.

Sam might tell them today, he might not. You wouldn’t judge him either way. He knows you aren’t judging him. You’re nudging him, not so gently. You’re being for him what he is for you. A good friend. Sam has a tendency to drag his heels sometimes and his relationship with Eileen is one of the few things you’ve seen him jump into wholeheartedly. He is, after all, engaged in under a year. You’re beyond pleased because you’ve never seen him so happy, all you want is for Sam’s family to enjoy seeing that too. If you elbow him in the right direction it’s only because you know he’ll regret it down the road.

Besides, it’s not like Mary can scare Eileen away. She already said yes.

So, Dutch courage it is. You don’t condone drinking to excess in front of his parents but a few more beers wouldn’t hurt. They’d only loosen his lips.

The cooler is by the door to the kitchen, for easy refills whether that’s ice or beer. It’s out of the way. Most people stay close to the grill or their seat if they have managed to command one.

You assume your trip will be short and sweet. There’s no one else standing by the plastic box, which means no awkward cooler small talk to get trapped in. It’s half-empty but there are enough bottles that you won’t have to top it up even taking one for you and Sam. Then you stand up with a bottle in each hand, about to turn tail when at the edge of your peripheral you register Dean and Mary in the kitchen.

The window to the kitchen is wide and open and you should walk away. You almost walk away. Then Mary speaks and you can hear them so clearly that you have no choice. You duck down and sit precariously on top of the cooler.

“I know I’m not supposed to rush you but Dean, honey, I can’t stand it any longer. When are you going to announce it? I’m dying!”

Your interest is piqued. Unfortunately. It’s wrong, completely and utterly. Dean should be allowed his secrets whatever they are. Still, it’s not your fault that he chose to have this conversation, with his mother, in the kitchen. Where anyone could walk in or overhear them.

“What the hell are you talking about?”

Although to be fair Dean doesn’t sound like a willing participant in this conversation, so maybe he doesn’t have a secret you have to worry about.

You don’t dare get up and peak through the glass since they sound quite close, but you hear Mary sigh.

“I heard her talking to Sam about it. How she wants to tell everyone and-and if it was up to her she’d have told us all already.”

The sound of the fridge opening and closing before he answers. “Still not following, Mom?”

“The proposal Dean. You asked her to marry you. She all but admitted it to me this morning and I’m so, so happy for you. I did think you’d talk to me first but… When am I getting my big announcement so we can celebrate?”

You suck in a breath and hope that it didn’t make a sound. If you can hear them it stands to reason they might hear you. Neither of them seems to. Or they’re distracted. Dean is silent for a too long beat, Mary is clearly confused, and she’s thrown you under the bus along with her, for good measure.

“You’ve got it all wrong. I don’t know what you think you heard…”

A pit forms in the bottom of your stomach at his tone, how against the idea he sounds. It’s fine, you try convincing yourself, he’s defending Sam’s secret.

“Don’t lie to me, Dean. I know you and your brother think I’m nuts but I want you both to be happy. That's all.”

There’s a part of you that knows you should stop this. Come to Dean's rescue and clarify. You could fix this in thirty seconds or less. That’s what you would do if you weren’t stuck like your feet are made of cement.

“You've gotta cool it with that, ok? Y/N is just a girl I’m dating, that’s it, and I don’t want her getting the wrong idea. You breathing down her neck won’t help anything.”

You have to remind yourself that you’d wanted to know his secret. But maybe you’d only wanted to know because you hoped, assumed, that he felt the same as you.

You’d never actually expected a proposal. Not for years. You’d have been happy with not getting one ever as long as you got Dean. He was your prize, not some ring. But his tone says you don’t have him in any way that you want, you’re just a girl he’s dating. Just a date. He didn’t even say girlfriend. He didn’t even say he likes you.

“Oh, well. I’m sorry. I must have had my wires crossed. I’ll leave it alone.” Mary sounds deflated and disappointed. About a tenth of the hurt you’re spiraling into.

She also sounds like her footsteps are getting closer.

You need to move this time. Because the only thing worse than hearing this conversation is one of them knowing you’d heard this conversation.

The beers get left on the decking next to the cooler you’re still balancing your weight on. You stay low, curled over, as you take long steps along the side of the house. Your immediate plan is to get out of the way while Mary re-enters the backyard but it’s a mere thirty seconds before Dean comes striding out after her. He looks around, maybe for you, maybe for anyone else, it doesn’t really seem like it matters.

You’ve been worrying if Dean loves you, if you would scare him off by telling him you do. You’d never considered that he’s not anywhere close to that. He might never be. 

Your mistake had been to immediately take solace in his room. It’s so his. It smells like him, every single thing reminds you of him. It’s the inanimate object version of going to cry in his arms.

It only made everything so much worse.

Though Dean’s room doesn’t contain a small library like Sam’s, there’s still a desk and a padded desk chair. The desk is covered in random things; a picture of him and Sam while Sam graduates Stanford, some sunglasses and amongst other things a small model car. A model of the impala that you’d toyed with while you were sneaking in some emails last night. He’d told you his dad gave it to him as a kid because his obsession with the car had begun early. However currently the chair is not where it is supposed to be. It’s wedged under his door handle because neither brother has a lock on their door.

You’ve spread out since you’ve been here. Your laptop is in the only free spot on his desk, your case is open on the floor where you’ve been living from it for two days now. Not to mention your things everywhere, a mascara here, or a lipstick there. At home, you only manage to stay any semblance of tidy because everything has its place but this is Dean’s space. It’s not even his, it’s his teenage space, somewhere he outgrew but visits every once in a while. Not even he completely fits in here anymore.

The point is you clearly don’t belong. Not even an inch. Dean liked you but that was it. As painful as it is to admit that’s not enough anymore. You’ve outgrown dates and sex, well, you’ve outgrown only having those things. For the first time in your life, you want the next step and Dean doesn’t. That’s the risk you take when you care about someone, getting hurt is always a possibility.

The only problem is you promised yourself no more pretending. Last year was enough for a lifetime. So, you can’t skip back downstairs and pretend you hadn’t heard what you did. You can’t sit next to him and watch fireworks and not be heartbroken.

“Y/N? Sweetheart?” There’s a knock at the door that spooks the makeup you’d been collecting out of your hands. You don’t answer him instead, you scramble for the things you’ve dropped and scoop them up faster.

He twists the doorknob and you carry on your task because the chair will protect you.

Then the door starts moving. You expect to hear resistance after a second but the room is filled with the squeak of plastic wheels.

You’d forgotten that the damn chair is on wheels.

The makeup is dropped again, spilling out over the floor once more as you fall to your ass and slide across the carpet. You’d never managed anything close to a slide in baseball, never ever needed to learn one. Now you perfect it in all of two feet. Your feet plant either side of the chair and your hands wrap around the seat pushing it back until the door closes again. This was a mistake, the chair is only making it harder to push back, you should have moved it and shoved yourself against the door, it’s just too late for a redo.

“Hey, hey. Open the door.” It’s hard to tell if he’s angry, he mostly sounds urgent.

Your heart is pounding out of your chest, still, it’s impossible to find the words to answer him. You don’t want to say something you’ll regret, or can’t take back, even if you’re hurt. In your silence, he keeps pushing, literally and figuratively.

He twists the handle again but this time there’s a little weight on his side. The weight pushes against the chair and by extension you. It’s not his full weight, he’s bigger than you though so even his half weight is starting to force you backward. You scramble to gain some traction, planting your feet better, shoving some more. The carpet gives you some friction but not enough to help against the force of Dean Winchester. You keep moving.

After a minute things are about a hundred miles south of ridiculous. You love ridiculous, when you’re not trying to run away that is.

Dean is one foot in the room, thick fingers wrapped around the door and his head pushed in looking at you. There’s a confused knot in his forehead while he takes in exactly what he’s forced his way to look at.

You straddling the bottom part of his desk chair, shoved against the door, and looking up at him wildly.

“Really, sweetheart?” He asks with a mix of frustration in his eyes and a curl on his lips, “what the hell?”

That’s enough to snap you out of it and jump up from the floor. Your hands smooth over the wrinkles in your jeans as if nothing happened. “Hi, Dean. Sorry, I thought you were someone else.”

You may be hurting, sure, but if your parents taught you anything it’s how to cover any emotion with pragmatic denial.

He steps all the way into the room now without you in the way. “Someone else? Comin’ into my room, looking for you?”

“Could have been anyone,” you shrug. Careful to keep your voice steady and neutral while you go back to collecting your twice dropped makeup from the floor. “Wouldn’t want any of your cousins to wander in here.”

“Right. Because they’re leaving the yard while there’s food on the grill, come on it’s like-”

“I heard what you said to your Mom.” The last thing you wanted to say makes it to the tip of your tongue anyway, as you dispense the collected make up into your case like a dump truck.

He parts those lips of his, which means he’s worried about something and then he smiles. He smiles at you while you’re doing everything not to cry.

There’s a quiver in your voice despite yourself, “it’s fine I get it. I wish you’d told me yourself but I can’t do anything about that. And I know I shouldn’t have been listening in and I’m sorry. Can you give me a few minutes to get sorted please?”

Dean cocks his head, takes a step closer to you, and then stops when you grimace, “what?”

“You said you-that we-I’m not expecting anything but I thought I was more than ‘just another girl’ you’re dating.” You shake your head, trying to stop those tears now you’ve said it out loud. Feeling your vision blur and wobble anyway. “Like I said it’s fine. I’m getting out of here though. I found a flight home, there’s no point in you driving me home eleven hours when it’s four to St Louis.”

Not to mention the fact that you couldn’t stand to sit in the car with him that long while you’re feeling like this.

“Woah, Woah, Woah baby.” He doesn’t pause this time. He doesn’t care about your frown as he approaches you, he’s more concerned about fixing whatever you have gotten in your head. He’s on you in an instant. One warm hand on your shoulders and one at your chin, lifting your face to his and taking in all your sadness. You hate that he’s making you stare into his eyes like this. Those green, soulful eyes had been one of the first things you noticed on his beautiful dumb face and now this feels like a goodbye. Of course, it's not a goodbye. He’s trying to tell you just by looking at you that you’re a goddamn idiot. “Have you met my mom? Remember when she asked if you were pregnant when you’d been dating Sam like a month?”

“Fake dating. Why does everyone forget I was fake dating him?”

He chuckles, “‘course. Faking. Well, you heard her, right? She thinks we’re the ones getting hitched. Imagine if I’d thrown fuel on the fire and told her that you’re my girl, I love you and that you’re it for me.”

There’s a big, huge lump in your throat stopping you breathing. Too gigantic to swallow down. Tears still want to rain over your face, again, but you refuse to be the girl that cries because her boyfriend, who she loves, finally told her what she’s been waiting to hear.

Wait, you need to say something back.

“I love you too.”

His smile is slow and lazy but it’s perfectly timed with how gently his body leans in to kiss you. His shoulders drop while you’re sighing into his mouth like every romantic comedy heroine. His hands still on your shoulders relax their hold a little and you realize, he might have been doubting how you felt too.

“That’s good to know.” He breathes. “But see if I’d have told my mom all that, with the whole family here, she’d have us shotgun married before I got the chance to actually ask you.”

Your eyes widen, “no. You’re not?”

“Nah, planning on knocking those socks off when I do. Fair warning though, that’s coming.”

A strangled laugh comes out of you because you are, and have always been, the stupidest person alive. Dean loves you. He loves you and you love him. And why have you waited so long to say it?

“Move in with me?” It seems like the next best thing to every sweet thing he just said. It’s not enough but for once you’re happy to be second best in a conversation. You’ve been thinking about it long enough, hating the distance and the weekends you’ve spent apart. It’s so obvious that you should have worked it out months ago.

“What?” He gives you the pleasure of seeing his goofy confused face while your finger traces the curve of his bottom lip. In case you ever forget.

“Move in with me. Move to Chicago to be with me. Benny can manage in St. Louis and you can open a second location... or be chief of police or a fireman or just eat deep dish all the day long, whatever you want. Be with me in Chicago? Everyday? Sam’s there too. How can you be his best man from three hundred miles away?”

Another kiss and a bigger grin that comes from his chest, not even you expected it to be this easy. Which is more of that stupidity because with Dean it’s always easy. You can only imagine how rosy your cheeks are as he answers, “you had me at pizza.”

You get to the foot of the stairs when Sam pops out of the living room. You’ve schooled your beaming grin into something more subdued because you don’t want to draw focus but Sam’s probably still just waiting for his beer. He tilts his head down and asks, “you good?”

Before you can tell him that you have never been better, Dean saunters down the steps behind you without any concern for drawing attention. “Sammy, how many times have I told you, you can’t have her back. She’s mine now.”

Sam purses his lips at his brother, which is still funny to you, and you press a hand to his chest to distract him from their brother games. “We’re all good Sam, I’ll fill you in later. The important thing is are you ready to go? Weekend is nearly over.”

He smiles at you, “couldn’t do it without my legal eagle.”

Finally, he gets it. “Legal eagles for life, Sam.”

“You two are a pair of dorks.” Dean slumps an arm over both of your shoulders, “I can’t believe I love a dork even dorkier than my dork brother.”

If Sam notices any difference or the massive L-word Dean dropped, he keeps his reaction in check. Besides he’s engrossed in something else, he kind of has something huge to announce to his whole family right now. Something you’ve been dying to witness since he told you.

You turn in Dean’s arm to threaten him, “he can still drop you and make me best man, you know that, right?”

Dean feigns anger, “he would never.”

“Keep talking pretty boy and see how fast I’m planning the bachelor party.”

“She thinks I’m pretty.” Dean turns his head to smile at Sam and involve him in your sparring match, you know since best man is his decision, but Sam is now bitch facing the pair of you.

He doesn’t say anything, just swings an arm out towards the kitchen and beyond that the backyard. An annoyed invitation to join him and his fiance for the big moment you’ve all been waiting for.

“Yeah, yeah. Come on De. Let’s go let Sammy-boo and Leney-bear be as disgusting as we are.”

You’re already in the kitchen when Sam shouts after you, “I told you not to call us that!”

“Eileen said she didn’t mind!”

Weirdly, the party in the backyard is exactly how you left it and yet you feel like everything changed, for the better, in the last twenty minutes.

Eileen sees all three of you step out of the house and senses that its time. Or Sam had already told her it was before he went looking for you. Either way, she walks over to Sam who magically ends up in the middle of the yard.

You can feel the excitement buzzing from Dean where he’s standing next to you, you bet he’s feeling that from you too.

“Hey everyone, I kind of have an announcement,” Sam calls out.

Most of them look around but nobody moves and he hasn’t captured everyone's attention in the way John does at the baseball game. For some reason that line from Highlander pops into your head, there can only be one. It’s a concerted effort not to snort at your own joke.

John is, however, one of the people that heard Sam so he hollers, “cut it out, Sammy’s got something to say.”

That’ll do it. The music shuts off and everyone gathers in a circle around Sam and Eileen. You notice then that Eileen’s ring has appeared back on her finger. You know she had it on a necklace until this announcement but the sleight of hand to make it happen is impressive.

“Thanks, Dad. I’ll keep this short and sweet because I know you’re all waiting on more food but while we had everyone here we thought we should tell you all.”

Somehow, you hear Mary’s heart stop from twenty feet away.

“As most of you know Eileen and I met just over a year ago,” a few people who haven't been briefed share looks since he’d been ‘dating’ you last year. “And well, I’ve never been happier or more in love with someone in my life. She’s everything I’ve ever wanted and a few weeks ago I got my act together and asked her to marry me.”

Eileen holds up her hand then, beaming, ‘and I said yes!”

They had to have rehearsed that on the flight.

Chaos ensues. Everyone claps and cheers and people try to move in to congratulate them. Above all of that Mary screams like she’s being murdered. She rushes forward letting every thought in her head fall out of her mouth, “But I thought Dean and Y/N… so you’re telling me it was you all along? Oh Sammy, sweetie, I am so, so happy for you. Oh god, I’m so proud of you.” She wraps her arms around him and crushes him. “And I’m so happy you’re going to be part of the family!” She lets go of her son to give Eileen the same bruising hug.

“Well done, son.” John claps Sam on the back with, you think, the faintest hint of proud tears in his eyes.

Dean wraps his arm around you then like he'd been unable to do it until everything with Sam was ok. You lean into his chest and whisper only loud enough for him, "he's going to be so excited about you being in the city with us."

"You think?"

"I know it. Granted not as excited as me."

He rests his chin on the top of your head, slotting you into him like a puzzle piece.

In the background, it goes on and on until everyone has said something to the happy couple. Even Bobby gets this choked noise caught in his throat. The whole display is actually very touching.

When they finish the mayhem John proposes a toast in which everyone raises their drinks. Then the drinking and eating continue, with much more vigor than before. The whole thing goes from a Fourth of July celebration to a party. The music is a little more upbeat, the hard liquor is brought out early and the hum of everyone feels excited.

Sam—who has been hugged, pinched and shoved playfully enough to last him till the end of days—wanders over to you and Dean with his fiance in tow. “Are you happy now?” He directs the question at you specifically.

You reach up to grab his face with both hands and jiggle his head while you baby-talk to him, “my little Sammy, I’m so proud of you.”

Dean and Eileen both laugh and it's one of those perfect moments you only expect to see in the movies. You realize then that with these three people around you could actually look forward to the Fourth of July with the Winchesters for years to come.

5eva tags: @divadinag @darthdeziewok @fluentinfiction @witch-of-letters @supernatural-teamfreewillpage @magnitude101999 @alexwinchester23 Dean babes: @thewinchesterchronicles @akshi8278 @bloodydaydreamer​

[milfjensenackles]

to purgatory and back: chapter 1

2k words | read it on ao3

Dean had been trapped in Purgatory for at least a month now. He could barely keep track of time at this point. It’s not like it mattered. The world felt muted here, the sky grey and lackluster. Dean subsisted on whatever food he could find, whether that be a fish he miraculously found in a nearby water source or the flesh of a large beetle (that had been a terrible day, one he wishes he could forget). He was miserable. He wanted to get back to his brother and start hunting again. Every day was the same here. Every action he took was only what was necessary to stay alive. Kill monsters, look for Cas, sleep, repeat.

He hadn’t seen Cas since the day Dick exploded and sent their asses here in the first place. He just up and disappeared, leaving Dean to mutilate Leviathans and various other monsters on his own. Dean didn’t even know why he fought for so hard for so long. He didn’t know if Cas was alive. He didn’t know if they could escape, even if Cas did survive the last month alone against the unforgiving terrain that was Purgatory. All he knew was that he had to try to find Cas as soon as possible.

And then he met Benny.

Benny was an… interesting character, to say the least. He was snarky, reckless, and honestly? He could be pretty annoying sometimes. No wonder they got along so well. Dean ran into Benny during what was now a routine Leviathan attack that might have been Dean’s last. The Leviathan had Dean restrained in the air, holding on by the collar of his t-shirt. Something managed to knife the thing before Dean had a chance to get near his own weapon.

“I had that under control,” Dean mumbled from the ground, attempting to brush some debris off his jeans until he realized that, based on the amount of grime currently covering his person, there was no point in trying.

A large, scruffy-looking man looked down at him and smiled before winking at Dean, intentionally flashing his sharp fangs. “Sure you did.”

Dean gaped at him and immediately pointed his knife at the man’s neck. “You’re a vampire.”

“No shit. Really?”

Dean’s eyebrows knit together in confusion. “Why did you help me? So you can drink me dry?”

“Nah, I’m not that kind of vamp. Human blood doesn’t do it for me. Seemed like you were in a bit of a pickle there, so a ‘thank you’ would be nice,” he said, looking Dean up and down with a smirk and a look in his eyes that Dean couldn’t quite pinpoint. The vampire stretched out his hand to shake Dean’s. Dean looked at it for a brief moment, hesitating to align himself with someone he would have killed without a second thought as a hunter. Normally, Dean wouldn’t even consider trusting him, but what choice did he have? It was either work with a vampire or die at the hands of a different one. The vampire seemed to sense his hesitation but leaned his head forward and moved his arm even closer to Dean’s. Dean rolled his eyes, lowered his weapon, and clapped their hands together. “Nice to meet ya. I’m Benny. I can help you get out of here.”

So Dean and Benny continued forward into the endless cycle of fighting monsters and waiting for something dangerous to find them. Dean could feel himself warming up to the vampire, against every fiber of his being that warned him against it. Dean told Benny the story of how he and Cas were sent to Purgatory, and Benny told Dean the story of his death. Benny tried to convince Dean to move on without Cas, but Dean refused each time he tried. Dean wasn’t leaving this terrible place without Cas, even if it meant he had to stay forever.

“So, are you in love with this angel or what?” Benny asked as they warmed themselves by the small fire Dean built. It was dark, and Purgatory got cold at night. Dean was lucky he and Sam taught themselves how to make a fire when they were kids, otherwise he’d more than likely have frozen to death by now.

Dean spluttered out a noise that was a mix of the words “What?” and “No!” while aggressively shaking his head.

Benny laughed. “It’s just that all I’ve heard about him from you is that he has the most dreamy eyes ever and he’s so strong and smart. Not to mention all the ‘where’s the angel’ crap I’ve had to listen to every time we try to gank somethin’.”

Dean stared into the flames before quietly saying, “First of all, I never said his eyes were dreamy. And second of all, I ain’t into dudes.”

“You coulda had me fooled,” Benny mumbled under his breath. Dean heard it and chose not to respond.

Dean and Cas had a complicated relationship. It didn’t help that one of them was always dying. Dean wasn’t in love with him, though. Benny was just being antagonistic as usual. Cas was his brother. His family. That’s why he was so desperate to find him. You don’t leave family behind.

Every night, Dean and Benny slept on the ground as close as possible to the fire, waiting until it inevitably fizzled out and they had to depend on their thin jackets to keep them warm. Dean learned to block out the noise of screeching and wailing that came from deep in the trees over time, allowing him to get a few hours of sleep after their light source disappeared for the day. He found comfort in praying to Cas. He had no idea if Cas was listening, but it made him feel safer as he laid there, everything surrounding him engulfed by the dark Purgatory sky, rocks pressing into his back.

“Cas, if you’re out there… I hope you’re still out there. I don’t even know if angel radio works in Purgatory. I’m going to find you. We’re going to get out of here. I just… I miss you, Cas. You’re my best friend. You’re family. I’m not leaving without you. I don’t care how long it takes.”

Dean felt a tear slide down his cheek as he finished the prayer, hands clasped together and eyes squeezed tight in an attempt to make his effort feel more sincere. He’d never been one to pray, but he would try anything to get into contact with Castiel. Dean took a few deep breaths and slipped into a fitful sleep.

He dreamt of Cas most nights. Cas dying at the hands of some monster and Dean can only watch, can’t move to save him. Cas leaving him, choosing not to come home from Purgatory. Dean would wake with a start, the vision of Cas drifting away slowly, only to find himself an empty clearing with Benny fast asleep nearby. Sometimes, though… he had good dreams about Cas. Cas grazing his fingertips across Dean’s lips. Cas ghosting his mouth along Dean’s jawline. Cas pressing into Dean until all he can do is gasp Castiel’s name…

Those dreams terrified him just as much as the nightmares.

Dean was a wreck the next morning, having barely slept. He pushed himself off the ground, attempting to rub the sleep out of his eyes. God, did he miss coffee. He missed having breakfast with Sam and Cas after a long hunt. He missed normal food, like bacon and pancakes. He missed Cas. Dean was beginning to wonder if it was worth it. Maybe his nightmares were trying to tell him something… Maybe Cas didn’t want to be found.

“What’s got your panties in a twist?” Benny asked after a few hours of wandering through the forest.

If Benny noticed, Dean was being more obvious with his moping than he had originally thought. He sighed before responding, “I’m sick of it here. I want to shower. I want to see my brother. I want to find Cas. And I want this stupid beard off my face.” Dean rubbed at his chin, which was now layered with thick stubble. Normally, he would shave at least every few days, but that obviously wasn’t possible here.

Benny snickered. “I think it suits you.”

Dean grimaced. Benny held up a finger to him, indicating that he should stop whining for a moment. He searched through his pockets and eventually presented Dean with a pocketknife. “I can use this to shave you. If you’d like.”

Dean looked at the knife, and then at Benny. “You sure that’s a good idea? What if you cut me and you can’t control yourself?”

“I think I can handle it. I want to make you feel better.”

While Dean wasn’t ecstatic about the idea of a vampire and a knife all up in his face, he did really hate the scratchy feeling that came with excess facial hair. Dean eventually resigned himself to the fact that this was happening and settled on a tree stump near the water’s edge. Benny kneeled in front of him and pushed his knees apart to get close enough. Dean watched as Benny wet the knife in the river before pressing it against Dean’s jawline, scraping away the thick hair that had grown uncontrollably over the past few months. As Benny concentrated on Dean’s beard, Dean was watching Benny’s face. He wasn’t bad looking by any means. Dean’s eyes flicked from the top of Benny’s head to his eyes, and then down to his lips. Benny happened to look away from shaving Dean at that exact moment, catching Dean openly staring. Benny inhaled quickly, and shakily whispered, “Like what you see?”

Dean screwed his eyes shut and swallowed heavily. He was lonely and had nothing to lose at this point.  It was just a friend comforting another friend. Nothing wrong with that. Cas was probably dead, anyway. Why was he thinking about Cas right now? Dean watched as Benny leaned in, slowly, waiting for Dean to confirm that he was okay with this. Dean gave a small nod and Benny’s lips crashed into his.

***

The morning after… whatever happened between Dean and Benny wasn’t as awkward as Dean expected. Dean didn’t want to think about it. Benny was acting normal, so he could act normal too. Just guys bein’ dudes. Relieving some tension. He had been stressed, and it felt good to enjoy himself for once. It felt good to do something normal. Dean couldn’t help but wonder though… if this meant that he was actually ‘into men’, like Benny suggested so long ago. He really didn’t have time for a sexuality crisis right now. They still had to find Cas. Dean pushed the thought to the back of his head, making it a problem for his future self to deal with.

“Hey, Dean. I see something over by the river.”

Dean’s eyes followed where Benny was pointing. There was something… someone, maybe… crouching down on the rocks. It looked like they were desperate for water, like they hadn’t had anything to drink in weeks. As Dean got closer, the shape became clearer and the tan color of a familiar trenchcoat came into view.  

Cas.

Dean felt himself move toward Cas and wrap him in a hug. A grin stretched across his face, threatening to break him apart by the seams. They found each other. His thoughts became a repetitive cycle of telling himself that Cas is alive, Cas is safe, Cas is okay.

They had never hugged before. He didn’t want it to end. After months of searching for him, all he wanted to do was sink into his best friend’s warm embrace for as long as Cas would let him. Dean pressed his face into Cas’ shoulder, breathing him in. He felt Cas relax against him, and they stood there for what felt like an eternity, as though each of them was making sure the other person was real. As he pulled away slightly, his eyes roamed over Cas’ face with abandon. His bright blue eyes, his cheeks smeared with dirt, and his plush lips parted in a way that made Dean feel insane. Cas was looking at him, head tilted, a small smile growing on his face. Dean’s heart was going to beat out of his chest. He couldn’t remember a time when he felt more relieved, more peaceful, more… full of love.

Oh, shit.

He’s in love with Cas.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

A Nightmare In A Dream (Part 3)

Summary: Six months after reuniting with the Winchesters and her brother, things are going good for the reader. She and Dean are happily together and occasionally stay with her brother, Matty, and Sam, who has been getting him used to normal life. Life appears to be heading in a good direction when the past has a way of creeping up again and dropping a bombshell on them all...

Pairing: Serial Killer!Dean x reader

Masterlist

Square: AU!Dean

Word Count: 5,000ish

Warnings: mature (language, angst, death/murder, drugging/kidnapping, family drama)

A/N #1: This is a spin off of A Dream In A Nightmare and takes place ~6 months later. It’s recommended that fic is read prior to this one...

_____

Two Hours Later

“I don’t like this,” said Dylan, walking you by the arm down a hall to the other side of the house.

“Leave Matthew alone, Dylan. If you want revenge, you best save it for your sister,” said Lewis, brushing Dylan off. “Away. You’re too volatile right now.”

Dylan huffed as he left, Lewis nodding back towards a shut door.

“Speak to him as discussed. Maim but do not scar,” he said, holding up a small blade before tucking it in your back pocket. “Use that on anyone but the intended and Matty is back on the table.”

“I got it,” you said. You walked forward and into the room, Dean in a furnished bedroom. There was an on suite attached and a frosted glass window that let a hair of light in. He was sat on the middle of the bed, playing with a stray thread on the bottom of his jeans. “Dean.”

“Go away,” he said without looking at you.

“Dean,” you said. He flew off the bed and shoved you back against the wall. You felt a shock in your arm and Dean broke off, falling back onto the floor. He rubbed his ankle and you saw a small box cuffed to it. “If you don’t do that again, you won’t get shocked again.”

“Fuck. You,” he said, cocking his head at you. You pulled out the knife and he swallowed. “Y/N…”

“Turn around. Lay down on your stomach on the bed,” you said.

“Or what?”

“Please do what I ask, Dean,” you said as gently as possible. He stood and did as told. You swallowed down the bile in the back of your throat and crawled up on top of the bed, lifting his shirt up. You put a hand on the back of his neck and pointed the blade over one of his old scars. “You really were a nice guy. I mean, you’re a fucked up serial killer but you were nice. It’s not...it’s not personal, Dean.”

“Not personal my ass,” he said, gripping the sheets when you dug in a bit with the knife. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because breaking your heart was an easy way to break you,” you said. You ran your hand over his head and he shuddered. “It was nothing you did wrong, Dean. This was always going to happen.”

“You’re doing this to save, Matty. Tell me you’re doing this to save him,” said Dean quietly.

“Dean, I’m sorry but I’m doing this because it had to be done. You’re supposed to be with Lewis. The sooner you accept that, the easier this will be for you. Trust me. When you let go, when you give in, I know it feels like defeat but it’s not. It’s the end of the old you is all. Then you can start to become an even better version. It’ll take time but you’ll understand.”

He didn’t say a word or move as you carved some more, a few stray sniffles the only sound for a few minutes.

“You gonna be good?” you asked. 

“Yes,” he breathed out.

“Good boy,” you said. You slid your hand down to his neck and back, rolling off the bed and giving his hand a quick squeeze as you scooted off the edge. You prayed it was enough of a signal that you were still on his side. He never moved a muscle though as you walked out, Lewis shutting the door after you. You handed the knife back and Lewis looked you up and down. “What?”

“You play crazy a little too well,” he said.

“Do you really think I’m a normal person, Lewis?” you asked.

“No. None of us are,” he said. He rested a hand against your lower back and walked with you back towards the hall before he veered the two of you left and you wound up in a kitchen. You stared at him as he left you by the entrance, waving for you to take a seat at the kitchen island. “Sit. I’m assuming you’re starving.”

“One, aren’t I going back to my room and two, aren’t you going to go clean up Dean?” you asked as you sat. 

“Kid, I’ve known you a long time. You’ve been under my thumb just as long as Dylan and Matty. I know you went along all those years to save your brother. You had your freedom but you knew when to answer to me. I don’t see why we couldn’t return to that kind of arrangement. If Dean wants to be cleaned up, he needs to ask,” said Lewis. He opened a fridge and pulled out a casserole dish, sticking it in the oven. “It’ll be about twenty minutes. Dean wasn’t too hungry tonight so you can have his leftovers. Chicken casserole.”

“Dylan wants to kill me. I don’t think he’d like the idea of an arrangement between us,” you said. Lewis set a glass of water down in front of you, your tongue jutting out to lick your lips.

“Dylan’s not in charge. I am,” he said. “Drink if you’re thirsty.”

He got out a plate as you chugged down the cool water, a heavy breath escaping when you finished.

“As I was saying, you don’t have to go back in that room ever again,” he said. He put the plate in front of you and set a fork down beside it. He went back to the fridge and you glanced at the fork. It was far too blunt to work on him and Dylan was somewhere in the house you were sure of. “There is a real bedroom, just like Dean’s you may use tonight.”

“This arrangement, Matty is left alone and I get my freedom for what exactly?”

“The occasional interaction with Dean. Something like you just did. It’ll prove you were never on his side. You never were, Y/N, just to be clear. You knew you were going to give him to me before you even met him,” he said. “I don’t blame you for falling for him. He is special. But he’s not worth throwing away all you’ve sacrificed for your little brother.”

“I’m judging by this house you have a shitload of money,” you said.

“Yes, I do. Are you really going to ask for money?” he chuckled.

“I think we can both agree Matty will never be able to have a normal life. When Dean goes missing because eventually he will be declared missing, all of the Winchester money I have access to is gone. I need to provide for my brother and myself,” you said.

“Name your price,” he said, leaning back against the counter.

“Ten million,” you said. He smiled and looked down at the floor. “Ten million and consider me on retainer for whenever you need me to play a part for Dean.”

“That’s a lot of money, kid. I can’t exactly take it out of the bank all at once,” he said. “A deposit that big would get even bigger red flags.”

“You’re telling me that you don’t have offshore accounts? I’m not expecting it today, Lewis. I obviously need to stick around for a while to help convince Dean I was always playing him. There’s time to get it in place,” you said.

“Ten million is all it takes to get you to turn on him,” said Lewis. “Must not be true love after all.”

“I love him,” you said, Lewis lifting his chin. “But I love my brother more. I want out of this mess. I had a taste of it the past few months. I just want out. If I have to leave Dean behind to fend for himself...that’s his problem. His family fucked up mine’s lives. They fucked up my brothers. He fucked up me. So yes, I love him, but I’m not living in Hell anymore because of him.”

“Good answer,” he said. He walked over to the stove and turned the oven off. You cocked your head and he pulled out the dish, tossing it in the trash. “Oh, it was poisoned. Not enough to kill you but to make you wish you were dead. We had pizza.”

He opened the fridge and pulled out a box, tossing it on the counter towards you.

“Give me a few days to gather the money together,” he said, taking the pizza and throwing it on a plate before he nuked it in the microwave. “I appreciate your honesty. If you said you hated him...well then it’d be obvious you were lying. I can see that this hurts you. But you understand when to walk away because of your intelligence. I always knew you were the perfect choice.”

“I need something else,” you said.

“Don’t push it,” he said, popping open the microwave and sliding the dish in front of you.

“Well if I’m gonna be staying here the next few days, I’m gonna need some fucking pads,” you said, glancing down at your lap. “Get the picture?”

“Dylan!” shouted Lewis. He walked in and ignored you, staring at Lewis. “Go to the store and buy some pads for Y/N. Now, please.”

“No fucking way. You do it,” said Dylan.

“Your sister is eating dinner. She is making progress with Dean whereas you give him reason to doubt everything. If you can’t even pretend to like your sister, you’re gonna do the fucking shopping, got it? Now, Y/N, do you need anything else?”

“Normal for the day, thick kind for night,” you said. “And get me some green apple shampoo and conditioner.”

“She doesn’t need-”

“Go. Now,” said Lewis. Dylan grumbled but left, the front door slamming elsewhere. “Pain in my ass that kid is. Always been so angry. He doesn’t think, doesn’t see the big picture.”

You let Lewis go off on a rant to himself as you ate, even eating a piece and a half cold straight out of the box. Lewis had stopped muttering when you finished, looking you up and down.

“Have enough?” 

“Yes,” you said with a nod. “May I go to my room?”

“Across the hall from Dean,” he said. “You can take yourself. I’ll bring you your items when Dylan returns.”

“Thanks,” you said, sliding off the stool, pausing on your way out. “Can I ask you a question about Matty?”

“What about him?”

“Why not do whatever it was you did with Dylan with him? Matty’s more normal than he has any right to be,” you said.

“Because it’s always good to have contingencies,” he said. “We made a deal. Matty and you did what you were supposed to so Matty got to have TV and oreos and medicine when he was sick. Honor the deal and nothing bad happens.”

“You told me Matty was dead back at that farm,” you said.

“To test you. It’s clear this time around, you learned the lesson,” he said.

“I still hate you,” you said.

“I know you do. Go rest. Make yourself presentable for Dean. I want to start bright and early with him,” he said. You nodded and left the room, walking to the other side of the house. You entered the spare bedroom, similar to Dean’s in a way. The window in there wasn’t frosted and the bathroom had more things like soap and a toothbrush by the sink. You walked over to the bed and plopped down with a groan. All you wanted was a shower and to sleep. 

You could shower later though and for the moment you had to come up with a plan to use your new independence to get Dean out before he got more than a few scratches.

Three Hours Later

You were sat up in bed when Lewis knocked on your door. He came inside and you watched him carefully.

“Get dressed. We’re gonna have a chat with Dean in a few minutes,” he said. “He attempted to shock himself with his sink. That’s a big no no. I warned him and he did it anyways.”

“What am I supposed to do?” you asked as you got up and stretched.

“Reiterate the sentiment that he was wrong to do that and then cut off his left pinky toe,” he said. 

“Is that safe?” you asked.

“Very. You can cauterize it to stop the bleeding. Worked very well with Matthew,” he said.

“Give me ten minutes,” you said, yawning as you padded into the bathroom.

“You have five,” he said before he left. You started to change and throw your hair up in a bun, mentally freaking the fuck out. It was a test. You knew it was. A few cuts that would heal and cause no damage, you could force yourself to live with that. Actually hurting Dean though?

You knew you couldn’t do it. You were fucked. Unless Dylan had a sudden change of heart, you were absolutely fucked.

“Are you ready or what?” barked Dylan as he barged into the bathroom. You rolled your eyes and finished with your hair, glaring at him. “You won’t do it. I know you’re telling Lewis everything he wants to hear.”

“What exactly do you want to hear, Dylan? I’m sorry? I’m sorry I thought you were dead all these years? I’m sorry I didn’t know you were there to try and protect? What the fuck was I supposed to do? I was twelve. I was the same twelve year old girl that asked you to catch the bug in her room, the same twelve year old girl that used to make you watch stupid teenager movies instead of horror ones with her cause they scared me and you never made me feel bad about that. I looked up to you and when you were gone, when I knew the only thing that could keep Matty alive too was to do as told, that’s what I did. I am sorry for whatever happened to you, I am. But shit happened to me too and you don’t see me wanting to kill you for it.”

“You knew I was alive,” he grit out. You stared at him, your head cocked, Dylan looking away all of a sudden. “You didn’t, did you. You always...you would look at me like that when you were a kid and didn’t understand something. You never knew. He said you did.”

“Lewis lies,” you said. “If I’d known, either Matty or I had known, we would have gotten you out. You know what I did to get him out. I would have done whatever I had to for you too.”

“Just...hurry up,” he said, leaving quickly. You sighed and followed him out, fully prepared that this was either going to be the last few minutes of your life or the start of a very long and painful way towards it. You entered Dean’s room, Dylan inside and leaning against the wall. He handed you a knife and you looked over to Dean who was sitting zip tied to a chair. “Wait for Lewis.”

You nodded, Dean glancing over to you. He looked scared and you looked down, Dylan tutting.

“You can’t do it,” he said. He tore the knife out of your hand and went behind Dean. 

“Yes I-” you said, Dylan slicing through the ties and the cuff on Dean’s ankle. Dean kicked him in the face and grabbed the knife, jumping to his feet and rushing over to you. “I was-”

“I know,” he said, shoving the knife into your palm. “I am half-drugged up right now and running off adrenaline so you gotta get us out of here.”

“Well that wasn’t very nice,” said Dylan as he got up, wiping off his bloody nose.

“Let us leave, Dylan,” you said, stepping in front of Dean. 

“You gonna stab me if I don’t?” he asked. You swallowed, Dylan taking a step forward. “That’s a no.”

“He’s psychotic,” said Dean, throwing his arm over your shoulders, feeling him lean on you pretty good. 

“He survived, like the rest of us,” you said. “Please, Dylan. Please help us. I know you’re smart. You know Lewis has lied to you before. Please.”

“Y/N,” said Dean, struggling to keep himself standing. “We gotta go.”

“Dylan,” you said. 

“Give him to me,” said Dylan as he walked right in front of you. He hoisted Dean up onto his back, Dean muttering as he let his head rest on his shoulder. “Let’s move.”

He brushed past you and you followed him to a garage, Dylan laying Dean down in the back of your car. He slid behind the wheel and you joined in the passenger side, Dylan tearing out of there quickly.

“I took off the tracker on your car when I moved it inside and ditched the radio,” he said. Dean groaned in the back and you spun around. “He’s fine. It’s just to make him tired.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m dandy,” said Dean, laying his arm over his face. “Thanks for tearing up my scratches by the way, asshole.”

“Are you always such a whiny little bitch?” said Dylan. “I can drop you off right now for Lewis to come get if you want.”

“Hey,” you said. “Dean’s my family. Threatening him is the same as doing it to me.”

“I literally just threw away everything I’ve known for over a decade for what you said in that bathroom. Cut me some slack,” said Dylan.

“He’s not playing us, right?” asked Dean. 

“I don’t think so,” you said, leaning over and pushing up Dylan’s right sleeve, revealing a few scars on his wrist. “Dylan, you can have a life. There’s a lot of us and one Lewis. He’s not invincible.”

“I almost let him bleed out,” he said with a laugh. “Back at the farm. You cut him good. But he was able to talk. He knows what to say. I should have...I should have let it happen and then gone and found you.”

“I don’t blame you,” you said. “You have to be on our side though, Dylan. I can convince them you’re on it but if you doubt me, I can’t do that.”

“How much do you two know about what happened to Dean as a kid?” he asked.

“He became obsessed with me and tried to kill my family. He killed my mom, in front of me, any other questions?” said Dean, forcing himself to sit up. You climbed in the back and he rested his head on your shoulder. “Y/N, before you talk, I know. It’s okay. We are one hundred percent okay. The second I got in that house, I realized how stupid I was. I knew you weren’t working for him. I always knew. I let myself get scared and that was a mistake. I still love you. I never stopped. I knew the second I saw you that you were working a plan.”

“You’re a really good actor,” you said, giving him a hug. “Did he-”

“He shocked him a few times,” said Dylan. “That’s it. You two can do this another time. Did you-”

“I’m doing this now,” you barked. “So shut the fuck up and get us far away from that house. Maybe stop in a drive through and get him some food while you’re at it.”

“Y/N. Maybe we shouldn’t snap at your brother,” said Dean, giving you a look.

“If I want to comfort the man I love, if I want some comfort after everything that went down the past two days, I’m gonna fucking take it,” you said. You huffed and felt Dean slowly slide his arm around your back, pulling you close.

“We’re okay,” he said. “S’okay. We’ll get some food for the road and then we’ll get far away from here. We’ll call Sam and it’ll all be okay.”

“We should have killed Lewis back there,” you said.

“Maybe but I’m in no position for a fight right now,” said Dean. “I needed you to get me out of there. I’m sorry I do such a shitty job at protecting you.”

“I am fine, Winchester. You protect me more than you know,” you said. You shut your eyes and felt Dean’s lips press a kiss to your temple. “I needed that.”

“Me too,” he said quietly.

“Feel okay?” you asked. He nodded.

“Tired. A little hard to move. I’m alright,” said Dean. “You?”

“Hungry but I’m good,” you said. You sat quietly for a few minutes running your fingers through Dean’s hair, feeling him relax around you. You lifted up the back of his shirt a bit, feeling a few small bandages over his back. You sighed but Dean nuzzled into your neck more with a hum.

“Love you,” he murmured, giving you the best hug he could manage.

“I know where he’ll go,” said Dylan. “If I’m allowed to speak that is. Not like you two are the only ones that went through something or anything.”

“I’m sorry for yelling, Dylan. If you have any information on what his next move might be, we’ll gladly take it,” you said.

“Why were you asking about when I knew Lewis as a kid again?” asked Dean as Dylan pulled into a burger joint drive through.

“It sounds like you’re missing part of the story,” said your brother. You caught his reflection in the rearview mirror and he looked back at the menu. “We’ll talk about this later. You two need food and then rest. It can wait until morning. Now what do you want to eat?”

“You look better,” said Dylan twenty minutes later. You were out of town, parked on the edge of some farmers field, Dean sat on the trunk while he ate.

“Not so foggy,” said Dean, taking a big bite of his third hamburger. You chewed on you chicken nugget, Dylan sipping his soda as quietly as he could. “Thanks for not being a psychopath anymore.”

“Probably still am one to be honest,” he said. “I hurt her and was going to hurt her and Matty even worse. That’s not normal.”

“No, it’s not,” said Dean. “Welcome to our lives.”

“Lewis said you have a hobby of killing bad people. He could never prove it but he suspected,” said Dylan.

“Yes, I do that,” said Dean, eating a handful of fries.

“You gonna kill me once Lewis is gone? I did kidnap you and hand you over to him,” he said.

“I could. I have a counter proposal,” he said. You glanced at Dean and he gave you a short smile. “One that doesn’t involve you getting killed.”

“Why would you take the chance of letting me live?” he asked.

“Because you have something very important to do. You need to be a big brother again. You need to have a real family again. I ain’t saying we’re normal. We talk about weird shit at dinner more often than not. But we all have had our lives changed by Lewis. We can help you start over. We find we work better together than apart,” said Dean.

“It doesn’t mean you can trust me,” he said. “What if I don’t want you people? What about then?”

“Dyl-” you started, Dean sliding off to the ground, steadying himself on the trunk.

“I ain’t gonna let you hurt your sister or brother or mine,” said Dean. “If you want to be pissed at someone, be pissed at me. I’m the reason Lewis ever came into your life in the first place.”

“That’s not exactly true,” said Dylan. 

“Yes, it is,” you and Dean said.

“Your dad, John, he have any sort of strange animosity towards Y/N? Like, beyond what you’d expect? He not come by too often?” asked Dylan. 

“Why?” asked Dean, carefully looking at you.

“There’s a reason Lewis picked you, Dean, and it’s not because he has a crush,” said Dylan. “You had the unfortunate luck of being oldest was all.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” you asked. You crumbled up your trash and crossed your arms, Dylan tilting his head back. 

“It means John has never told you the whole truth. You two know how to research for a kill I bet, plan it, execute. You’ve never gone and looked at your own lives though. You said it yourself, Y/N. You guys were kids. Kids don’t know the full story. I mean think about it. Why would a CEO’s family for a billion dollar corporation go into hiding? Why would Dean not get to go into witness protection with John and Sam? Why would the FBI get involved but never go after Lewis? Why Dean in the first place? Why not go after a much easier kid to mess with? Why would you pick a family with public visibility? Think about it.”

“But if he’s not obsessed with Dean, why-” you said, Dylan holding up his hands.

“I didn’t say the guy didn’t snap eventually. He definitely wants Dean and for good. But because he loves Dean? You’re both smarter than that,” said Dylan.

“Y/N,” said Dean. “Get ahold of Sam. Tell him we’re going to him. He needs to hear this.”

“Is that a good idea?” you asked. 

“What do you say, Dylan?” asked Dean.

Dylan walked past you and opened the backdoor, rifling around in your bag for a moment before he stood back up with a shirt in his hands. He rolled it out and covered his eyes with it. 

“Well it’s either this or you kill me and leave me out here. Your choice,” he said.

“I’ll drive. Dean, keeping your eating food, honey,” you said. You sat Dylan down in the backseat, Dean taking the rest of his food to the passenger side and climbing inside.

Ten minutes later you were heading towards the cabin safehouse, Dean letting out a burp. He looked over his shoulder, Dylan with his head down and staring at his lap.

“You okay back there?” asked Dean.

“I’m fine,” he said quietly. “I wouldn’t trust me either so it’s cool.”

You pressed your elbow against the window and rested your head in your hand, letting out a sigh. 

“You watch sports? Football? Basketball?” asked Dean. You glanced over to him quickly, sitting upright again.

“Mostly football. NFL, college,” said Dylan. “This your attempt at bonding or something?”

“Well it’s a long drive and I think we’ll all go nuts if we don’t break the tension. Who’s your team?” asked Dean.

“Patriots,” he said.

“You are not earning yourself any brownie points with an answer like that,” laughed Dean. “Seriously? The Pats?” 

“They’re very good at winning. You a fan of the Dolphins or some shit?” asked Dylan.

“Kansas City. Come on man. We’re from the area. You gotta go with your home team,” said Dean. “Y/N and I got tickets for Kansas State in a few weeks. Maybe you’d want to come? Ever been to a game?”

“No. Is that such a good idea?” asked Dylan.

“Well, I think we’ll all either be dead or Lewis will be in three weeks,” you said. “We can get an extra ticket if you want. Sam and Matty are gonna go too. It was supposed to be his first trip out.”

“Trip out?” asked Dylan.

“Matty has a new identity. We knew there’d be too many questions. He’s doing really good all things considered. He even passed his tenth grade state history test last week,” said Dean.

“You teach him school and shit?” asked Dylan.

“I want him to have as normal a life as possible. Maybe he’ll never fall in love or have kids or whatever but I want him to be able to go out to eat or see a football game or go on vacation to the beach,” you said.

“Lewis said he was stupid, didn’t know anything.”

“He’s not. He’s far less socially awkward than you’d expect. He’s grown a lot,” said Dean. 

“I’m starting to realize Lewis lied about my siblings a lot.”

“Well, Y/N’s giving you a chance when we all know it’d be a lot easier to kill you and be done with it. I’m a serial killer and she calls me a good man. You might not know each other anymore but that should give you an idea of the kind of person she is,” said Dean.

“I know. If it’s gonna be awhile, I want to try and catch a few hours sleep if that’s alright,” he said.

“Sure. We’ll wake you when we get there,” said Dean. Dylan slumped back in his seat, still enough that you figured he was in a half sleep at least. Dean reached over and grabbed your hand, holding it across the console. 

Even if he too eventually fell asleep, he didn’t let go for the next six hours.

______

A/N: Read the Final Part here!

[thecleverdame]

The Oath - 12

Parings: Dark!Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader

Story Master List

Summary: After an unsuccessful escape attempt, the reader finds herself taken as a spoil of war. She ends up in the bed of a ruthless Alpha, the son of John Winchester, leader of the kingdom of Gilead. She struggles to conceal her true identity and navigate a society where being an Omega means nothing more than serving at the pleasure of powerful men.

Warnings: non-con, sexual assault, rape, attempted suicide, sexual slavery, branding, torture, ownership, voyeurism, anal play, smut, violence, and murder.

Sam is dark in this story. If any of the warnings are triggers for you, I would suggest skipping this one. Please read and heed all the warnings.

Beta: ilikaicalie

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-

Sam can feel you watching him. 

Since waking up from the dead those years ago all of his senses have been heightened. He can anticipate situations before they develop, read the expression on a man’s face to deduce if he’s lying. But this is something else. A dormant ability hidden in his Alpha that’s responding to the bond developing between you. He can feel it growing every day. He knows when you are near or far, like now as you watch him riding away on his horse. 

Despite the complications of being an Omega, you’ve proved to be less work than he initially anticipated. Yes, you’re often scared and appear lonely. But any Omega he came across would be all of those things and more. He sees your sadness, but you manage to not let it affect your ability to satisfy him so he honestly doesn’t care. It’s well worth the price to have you in his bed at night, rubbing your sweet scent over his skin and sucking his cock like you’re starving for it. 

You need him more every day and that’s the way he prefers to keep it. If anything happened to you, it’s unlikely he would ever find a match as well suited. Most Alphas never find an Omega that responds so favorably.

Hell, in this world many Alphas never find an Omega at all. 

“You don’t need to stay. I’ve recovered.” Sam affirms to Dean what they both already know.  

“I’m not here for you. I’m here because being on my own is mind-numbing. The men are unbearable and this new Omega might be the death of me. Plus dad is a week away, ten days at most. I’m dreading rejoining the troops.”

“It’s true. The more time we spend away from him, the harder the reunion.”

“Used to be weeks, then months. How long has it been this time?” Dean asks. 

“Eighteen months since I’ve seen him last,” Sam confirms. “Almost the same for you if I remember correctly.” 

“I’m not sure. At least a year. I don’t mind him as much as you.”

Sam and John have a widening rift that’s been growing since Sam was a child. As soon as Sam was old enough to say the word ‘no’ the disobedience began. After Sam’s change to the man he is now, Dean thought perhaps they would grow closer. Sam was rapidly becoming just as ruthless as his father. But then came the day Sam surpassed John in nearly every regard. 

Dean knows his brother keeps his actions in check. If he acted on his impulses, a monster would be unleashed. But Sam maintains a semblance of humanity and their father simply sees it as an opportunity. To have someone as smart and capable as Sam who is also willing to give merciless orders and gets his hands dirty when necessary is invaluable. 

“A few of dad’s men are already here,” Sam confirms. 

Two of John’s scouts arrived this morning. Now that they’ve confirmed safe passage, they’ll ride back for the largest garrison in the Winchester army. A hundred-thousand men will join up with Sam and Dean to create a force like nothing seen before. 

They’re unstoppable and they know it. 

“The sword maker arrived today,” Dean observes as they trot along the forest line. Both men scan the horizon, constantly vigilant of a possible impending attack. 

Sam looks to Dean. “I could use a new blade. And his brand.”

His brand. Sam plans to make his ownership permanent. He must believe in your allegiance if he’s willing to brand you with the Winchester crest. 

“I’ll have my Omega marked as well,” Dean adds and Sam turns to him with an inquisitive brow. 

“The blonde one that’s tried to kill you twice now?” 

“Best to have the family claim as soon as possible. I’ve heard reports of camps attacked and Omega’s being stolen and smuggled to the borders. We need her if we want to bargain.”

“She’s still wild?” Sam grins, watching Dean’s exasperation with amusement. 

“She’s a hard one to break. Every time I think I’ve gotten the best of her she tries something new.”

“How long do you think she’ll live once our father shows up?”

“Depends on if he truly needs her as a bargaining chip or if he’ll just use her to entertain the men. Nothing gets them as energized as a beheading.”

“True. You won’t be broken-hearted?”

“No, not in the least. As soon as I find another Omega she’s heading to the jailer.”

“Smart. Better to have her under lock and key.” Sam rides for some time in silence, watching the slow-moving cloud trails across the gray horizon. “You told my Omega I was going to give her to you. Then to the men.”

“Maybe, sounds like me.” Dean laughs it off. “What’s the problem.”

“She tried to slit her own throat. I think she’s passed it now, but you could have given me a warning. You know how they react. I’d like to keep her alive.” 

“It was a comment. She’s fragile.” Dean dismisses the idea that he acted rashly.  “I’m still not convinced she didn’t have a hand in poisoning you. We should at least interrogate her. We can’t let the culprit get away with an attempt on Sam Winchester’s life. It sends the wrong message. Someone needs to be an example of what happens if they come after one of us. A body or two should do the trick.” 

“And you think that person is my Omega?” 

“Your Omega?” Dean shoots him a look “Please, we both know you’d never give her up. You’re too deep in that wet little cunt to see straight.” 

“I see very clearly. Perhaps more than I have in a long time. I’m not sure I was ever truly satisfied before her. I thought the stories of destined matches were as much shit as you did but, now I...there’s something to it.”

“Have you been through a rut yet?” 

“No,”

“Then how can you know for sure?”

“Because after I fuck her I don’t have the itch. It’s been gone since the first time.” 

Every Alpha knows the feeling. An unsettled urgency in the gut that leaves a constant need for one more round to get it out. Betas do nothing for it. It’s the reason so many of them end up injured or worse by Alphas trying to find satisfaction. Omegas bring well-needed relief, but it’s not complete. 

“Seriously?” Dean raises an eyebrow, checking if his brother is indeed serious. “Tell me how a bastard as coldhearted as you ends up with a true mate? That’s the universe fucking the rest of us. You’ve always been fucking lucky.”

“I’m not sure I would call dying in the battlefield and losing my soul, lucky.” 

“Maybe it’s not luck, but it’s something.” Dean thinks on this while they ride further. “Do you remember what you were like before?”

“Not that different from now.”

“You wouldn’t recognize yourself. Do you remember when you killed your first man? You were sixteen and you cried for a week.”

“No, I didn’t...did I?” 

“You did. I wasn’t sure you’d ever pick up a sword again. You don’t remember, do you?”

“I can’t remember anything from before. Feelings mostly, about dad, you. I have a few specific memories but nothing more than that.” 

“When you were little you were a sweet kid. You’d go out and pick flowers for mom. Bouquets of small yellow flowers wrapped up with twine.”

“Stop it,” Sam looks away, shifting in the saddle. 

“Call it whatever you want, luck, destiny, but be prepared to put up a fight if you want to keep her after dad gets wind of it. You know how he is about the Omegas. And she’s a prize, he’ll want her to give to some loyal-”

“He can try.” Sam shrugs. “And he’ll fail to take her. He knows better than to cross me.”

“Maybe,” Dean surmises, watching as they come upon the camp. 

[russian-romanova]

reunion

title: reunion

pairing: jack kline

word count: 2K

warnings: major spoilers for 15x11, adult language, mentions of major character death

notes: this is just a short little thing i wanted to get out there. i’m so happy he’s back, guys. 

summary: after what seems like a hundred eons, he’s back. your jack kline is back. 

+         +          +

When Castiel had come into your room with news of a case, your heart had dropped at the details. He had knocked politely on the doorframe and walked inside, cautious to even tell you. That’s when you knew something was wrong, and your mind first went to Sam and Dean on whatever hunt in Alaska. They had been pretty quiet for the last few weeks, you realized in the seconds of silence. Fuck, what if Sam and Dean were…?

“There’s a case,” Castiel began, and your beating heart steadied a little. “Since Dean and Sam are gone, I thought you might want to help.” 

You nodded without even thinking. “Yeah, sure. What details do we have so far?”

Cas took a breath in. “Seemingly normal humans are being murdered and their hearts are being eaten.” 

You paused. It sounded disturbing, but it wasn’t nothing you couldn’t handle. “Wow, okay. Um, werewolf?”

“I don’t think it’s a werewolf, Y/N,” Castiel looked at you for a moment before adding. “The person killing these men, it’s… It’s Jack.” 

The words floated between you for a moment. You felt like you were going to throw up, and you attempted to swallow the urge. “Jack?” The name came out small and quiet. “Our Jack? How? What?”

“Yes,” Cas nodded, his eyebrows turned up ever so slightly. “At least he looks like him.”

“Oh,” You whispered. “Shifter? Or-or something like that? I don’t...” 

“It’s possible,” Cas answered your question, but his focus remained on you and the shock you were absorbing. 

In the handful of years before Jack had died, the two of you had grown undeniably close. He had learned many things from the movies the two of you constantly gushed over, and one of those things was the array of more in-depth, vivid emotions. Jealousy, greed, boredom, love. 

After a little more than a year, you and Jack began thinking of each other as more than friends. You were both learning, really, but it hadn’t felt like that. It had felt like you were floating on a million clouds, holding onto stars for support and watching the moon float in your backyard. 

Love.

You hadn’t called it that then; you had been too scared. You had been a coward, and then you had been too late and Jack died. After that, you had been a bit of a wreck. You had watched Sam and Dean -- the latter especially -- push down their emotions of sadness, anger, and regret so many times before but never understood why. Now, you sorrowfully did. 

“What if it’s him?” You whispered to Castiel, who looked back up at you. He held your gaze for a moment, thinking over his next words. 

“Maybe it is,” He said slowly. “If it is, we need to help him.” 

You nodded. “Of course. I- Do you have any more information?”

“The local sheriff called me, and he sent me some security camera footage. I told him I would call him back, but I wanted to tell you first.” 

“Thank you,” You smiled slightly at Cas. “I’ll be right out.” 

The footage had confirmed your fears. Clear as day, Jack Kline walked into the office, got the attention of the doctor, and killed him before eating his heart. No eye shine to suggest a shifter, and all of his mannerisms screamed Jack. Either it really was the Nephilim, or it was a damn good impression of him. 

So Cas and you had driven down in your suits, ready to investigate. After meeting with the sheriff, you found out that someone else had spotted Jack more recently, going after what Cas had suggested to be a Grigori. You had followed the clues to an abandoned factory, where nothing was left of the two but a small splattering of blood. No Jack, no Grigori, just the worrying sign of liquid red. 

So Castiel and you had split up. The sheriff had listed off abandoned buildings, and two -- an old church and a farmhouse -- caught your attention. After a quick discussion, you managed to convince Cas that you could handle yourself on your own and would go look at the farmhouse while he took a peek at the church. 

You had taken the car, and the drive was somber. You remembered when your Grandfather had died when you were six or seven, and you had all piled into your dad’s truck and driven in the funeral procession. No one had felt like talking about the funeral you had just left, or the burial you were going to. The radio had been turned down, and even the bustling of the city seemed to fade into nothingness. It had been almost disturbingly silent, as it was now, except this time you had hope along with you. 

Much to your disappointment, however, the farmhouse had been empty. No sign of anyone there, nor any sign that there had been anyone recently besides some teenagers getting high and a couple of small animals. You had shot Cas a text (Hope you’re having better luck than me. I’ll see you at the church) and drove to where you remembered having seen the abandoned church.  

Before walking in, you had paused at the door of the car to gather yourself. Whatever you saw in there, you had to keep it together. Whether it be Jack himself, or a shifter, or nothing... As ready as you would ever be, you drew your gun and pushed open the double doors. 

The first thing you noticed upon arriving was the literal dead body lying there. For a split second, you panicked, seeing dark hair and thinking it was Castiel in the dim light. Then your eyes processed the image, and some creature -- you assumed the Grigori -- was before you, and he was dead. Cas was calmly sitting in one of the church pews, right next to the aisle. He looked tired but seemingly unscathed, which was enough to calm your nerves. It didn’t take long for you to realize that he wasn’t alone in that pew, that someone was sitting next to him. Tufts of light brown hair caught your attention, and within seconds you stopped breathing. 

Castiel looked up and noticed you. “Y/N,” He said your name, which caught the attention of the person next to him.

When you had driven down here, you spent hours thinking about what you were so afraid of. For the longest time, you were sure you were the most terrified of seeing Jack but it not really being him, tasting the idea of him but never getting close. After some thought, however, you realized that you were afraid the most of seeing him and it really being Jack, because what the hell would you say? 

You didn’t have to say anything, you realized now. 

Castiel stood up and moved out of the pew, allowing Jack Kline to usher himself out as well. You pushed the gun, which had long since been lowered, back into your jeans. “Jack,” You murmured, and you felt tears push at your eyes. He looked tired too, but his eyes were underlined with shame. At that moment, you didn’t care. It was really Jack, he was standing before you. It was really him, you felt it, and with Jack, there was a chance that everything would be okay. 

You stepped forward and he met you the rest of the way. The two of you collided in a hug at first, sweet and soft. You had tears falling down your cheeks down, falling on your smile like light raindrops. You had shared many hugs before: hugs with your parents before everything in your life went to shit, hugs with Sam and Dean after risky hunts, hugs with Mary when you looked like you needed a motherly figure, hugs with Cas when he was relieved you were alright, even dozens of spontaneous hugs with Jack. They all paled in comparison to now, you clutching onto Jack’s back and him bundling your hunting jacket in his fists. You both had faces buried in the other’s shoulders, Jack’s arms having landed above you in the sheer eagerness to hold you. 

After what felt like hours of hugging, you pushed yourself back to get a better look at him. Still, no words were exchanged but a smile spread across your face as you looked at him. You kissed him once, quick and sweet before looking at him once more. A slight smile was spreading along his cheeks now, but you could tell he was too tired to give more than that. God, you didn’t care that he didn’t smile back. He was here, holding onto your arms as you held onto his, looking between your eyes.

You kissed him once more, eagerly this time. You had missed him, you had missed this. The way you both felt so natural at love and adoration at moments like this, kissing each other after a thousand years apart. It was a reunion you thought would never come. 

You pull away for a final time, and Jack is blushing. “I missed you,” You gush quietly, just for him to hear. 

Jack smiled back, exhausted but overjoyed beyond words. “I missed you, too.” You didn’t plan on kissing him again, but those words turn your body into jello and you can’t help but love Jack Kline madly at this moment. 

You had lots of time to think about Jack in the time since he died. You had thought of the two of you, and what you had been and where you might have been going. You thought of the time you spent together, and the time you spent apart. You thought about feelings, as cheesy as that sounds, and you came to the clear notion that you loved Jack. 

The words bounced in your head for a moment, unsure how to get out or if they should come out at all. If Cas had spoken or stepped forward, you would have surely pushed the words back in. But the angel remained quiet, watching with proud eyes and a happy smile. 

“God, I love you,” You blurted out. “I love you.” 

Jack looked at you for a moment, and he looked as young and carefree as he had been when you had first met, when Sam and Dean had brought him back to the bunker with little information on the guy and too many worries. It was going to be okay, you realized as you had earlier. 

Jack smiled, a real smile this time. “I love you, too, Y/N. I’m sorry I was gone.” His voice came out in a whisper. 

You laughed. “No, Jack, I don’t care. It’s not your fault.” His hands were cold in yours, which only made you grasp them tighter. “You’re back now, and I love you and you love me, and Cas is here and you’ll get to see Sam and Dean. We’re going to all be together again, and that’s all that matters.” 

He smiled at you, one of his classic, ear to ear Jack smiles that accompanied a sugary treat or a proud remark from Dean. “Let’s go home,” He whispered. You looked to Cas, all three of you standing in the empty church with a dead body nearby and smiling like idiots. 

“Yes,” Castiel repeated, stepping forward to lead the way. You took Jack’s hand, which he gave a single squeeze. “Let’s go home.”

[mmagazinemoment]

Why my past loves make me want to look into nihilism as a lifestyle.

Good morning, midday, afternoon, or evening to you my fellow queers and allies and plain and simply gorgeous humans. You see I have already written another version of this edition but instead I have a pure heroine filled piece instead, and you may not be ready for it because it covers a few serious points but it’s also the (fuck your ex) vibe, not literally…unlesssssss * insert meme*. Thanks for joining me again my loves

 Why my past loves make me want to look into nihilism as a lifestyle

You ever just meet someone and fall completely into their arms and become almost a complete and utter 3rd leg of the other? What I mean in all seriousness is, don’t you ever feel like the love game grows on you like a drug addiction and I know some of you will see this and be thinking? What do you mean “the love game” I know it’s not a game, a figure of speech as such. Basically, what I’m trying to say is have you ever loved someone so much that you didn’t see the signs of detrimental dysfunction.

Wow that all sounds so serious, let me dial it down a little, I’m just trying this new thing called being uncensored and not caring about preconceived notions of myself from external eyes. Months ago, I was shattered into a million pieces and I won’t blame just him because it was my fault for thinking every relationship or whatever it was, was going to end up like a tv romance, no that’s a lie. I over invested and blamed him for hurting my own self, sure he had something to do with it, but he wasn’t just to blame. Can’t tell me I don’t know how to take accountability (wow I’m funny).

For instance, in a movie you meet and lock eyes with someone and the breeze grasps your hair, when I met said person, I was like ‘omg he’s tall, I’m going to fall in love with a giraffe’ and then I tried to build a home in him, without the investment and time taken to be careful with my time and words of affirmation in efforts to receive reciprocation I never got unless it was backhanded or what I wanted to hear. So how did you perceive your first love? Did he/she/they look pleasing? Or was it the scent of their perfume or cologne? Did they dress in a floral vintage outfit or was it a suit and tie? Ballet flats or sneakers? Tell me? I want to know all of the juicy details!

I know some of you probably didn’t ask or ever want to know but my first love happened in a series of me closing doors journeying through my uneasy sexuality labelling and let’s be real, fuck labels am I right? (unless you find comfortability and closure under a label and with that you’re perfectly valid), Love to me was like heroine and in some senses it still is. When I first learnt of love, it didn’t feel like love, it felt like obligation, perhaps a trend. Love felt like learning all he moves to a Tik Tok dance as fast as possible before the hype disappeared, and it became irrelevant again, questionable reference point but blame social media not me. I was never satisfied.

Keep in mind this was 15-year-old me, trying to gain some sense of validation to seem a little less repressed and not confused because before 15 year old me realised that 12 year old me wasn’t as weird as I thought.  I was under this veil of non-transparency and speaking on the subject of transparency I must tell you 12 was the year of age I realised that I wasn’t like the other boys at school, just swooning for girls and getting scared of cooties, I was just begging to be seen by whoever had eyes to care. Sounds dramatic I know.

Nobody was ever there to tell me at such a young age that there were others like me, “different”, the type of boy who watched rebel without a cause and felt weird when James Dean was looking so gorgeous and composed in that leather jacket or admiring Tim Curry when he dressed like no man I’d ever seen on a movie screen in or even real life in the Rocky Horror Show, something sparked in… me. I started on the smallest step I knew, acknowledgement, I knew I could find a home in the fact that there were more people like me, and wow I was right. I was finding comfort in what I knew, I found a few gorgeous women and obviously because of my age we thought that holding hands and a peck on the cheek was all we needed in life from the label of ‘relationship’, but it was only ever a weekly process. Anytime I found ‘love’ I wouldn’t know what to do with it without the chase, like a dog chasing a bone. Even to this day I have never had a successfully long relationship but at least these days it’s not because of my toxic traits, I like to think I’ve grown a considerate amount since I was 15. Don’t get me wrong, neither of those experiences were love? How could they be?

Ironically love happened even ‘after’ I was in a relationship. I had another relationship when I was 17, it lasted a little longer than the prior, it went for a month and a half, I was convinced I loved her, so sappy but you wanted transparency right? I have a lot of it. After that, my ex brought to attention after she cheated on me that I was using her as a sort of beard to cover up the truth about myself, I never knew how to perceive myself until then and that was only the second step, there was so much more to cover.

Skip forward past a few experiences leading up the near current, I met someone, a sort of fleeting romance, now (forewarning, this gets sappy) we talked for a few weeks if my memory isn’t hazy, and we quickly developed something no short of a connection. FaceTime after FaceTime I’d gather more and more pictures of his goofy face and at one stage, I thought I was going to be happy for the foreseeable future, then came reality. You can’t be loved by someone who doesn’t want to face themselves and you can’t help them anymore than what you’re capable of giving out. I didn’t listen to that, naturally things just got worse, and I hated everything…

He would apologise, I would validate his actions to friends who were concerned and realising that I was getting too soon attached and it wasn’t going to end well and I copped the consequences, I still have only recently not found regret in messing up this badly because if I didn’t make that mistake then I would’ve just witnessed those mistakes I made in the lap of somebody else and this is where the saying goes, better the devil you known then the devil you don’t. let me tell you it did more than a number on my mental health before I added up the reasons as tallies against us and internalised what I should’ve subtracted (hehe see what I did there). In all seriousness I wanted the thrill, I sure as hell got one.

Your mental health is amplified by your lifestyle choices and the people you choose to keep in your circle, friendship, or relationships regardless, the whole thing was out of whack and a tornado was nothing less than the accurate definition of where I was at, and it hurt a lot but sometimes it’s best to leave that situation if that person who you thought was going to be there for a while and a necessity to your life ends up being the detriment. (as Ashley Frangipane said) “its crazy when the thing you love the most is the detriment, let that sink in”.  

 If there is one piece of advice that I want whoever sees this to take with them it’s this, Keep your space sacred baby, you only have one life, but also please do not criticize yourself for getting caught in the motion sickness, sometimes you just can’t avoid it and that’s ok. Life is not a movie, life is more like the behind the scenes extra that puts everything into perspective, it’s rational and shows the hard work put in place to make the art and you should remind yourself as such. Remember also that if you cannot cope with all of the stress that presents itself in your life, that there are people that are equipped to help you hold some of the baggage for you until you are ready to take it back and analyse it. Whatever your grief is, I assure you, you’re not alone.

As always, stay healthy and strut your shit and I cannot stress this enough but keep raging against the machine and the super straights xoxo without the gossip girl, farewell until the next piece of The Mantra Magazine. *keep this in mind* next issue will be a little forward, it will include themes of segregation and war regarding the families of the Palestinians and Israeli conflicts happening right now. So, bring some tissues and an open mind. Farewell.

[tendonsatire]

Red (Ginny Weasley x fem!Reader)

Ginny and I grew up together. We were best friends and I would have never expected it to come to this. I honestly would have expected myself to maybe fall for one of her brothers, I mean a lot of them are nice and funny, they were just more like the siblings I never had. Yet here I was, falling in love with my best friend.

I was just finishing up my summer work in my bedroom when I heard the sound of pounding footsteps going up the stairs and coming towards my room. I knew my parents were gone for the day, so I quickly grabbed my wand and hid in my closet. I peaked through the small crack as someone burst in through my bedroom door and flopped on my bed. I watched as the red head sat up and looked around, confused. I swung the closet door open with a huff. 

“Why didn’t you write before you came? You scared me half to death.” I declared lowering my wand and setting it on my dresser. 

“Sorry I figured I’d surprise you. You haven’t been around to the Burrow in a while. I wanted to check in on you and hang out,” Ginny explained with a shrug. I could only nod a bit in understanding as I sat back down at my desk. 

“I’ve been working on the school work we were assigned for the summer. I’m almost done with the last essay.” I turned away from my very attractive distraction and picked up my quill. “It shouldn’t take me long to finish it so you better entertain yourself without distracting me.”

I heard a sigh from the bed beside me and laughed, continuing the essay. Having Ginny around did make it take me a tad longer to finish the task at hand, but checking the time, it only took me about twenty minutes. I put the work away in my school bag and put it in my school trunk so I wouldn’t forget it like last year. My mum and dad were not happy to have to deal with that.

“Okay, you have my full attention.” I said with a grin flopping down onto my back beside her. 

“As if you’d have it any other way.” Ginny teased, turning to her side to face me. I raised an eyebrow before laughing, having to look away to try to avoid blushing.

“Oh for sure,” I agreed, finally turning my gaze back to her. 

“Speaking of who has captured your attention-” Ginny started, catching me off guard so I naturally interrupted her. 

“-come on Ginny not this again!” I muttered, grabbing a pillow and covering my face with it. 

“-oh no you don’t! You have never once told me who you had fancied except the one time it was Ron and then you saw him throw up slugs and realized how bad of an idea that was.” She reminded me, watching me cringe. 

“I don’t know how I ever thought he was even a little desirable.” I agreed, shaking my head. “I just haven’t really liked any other guys.” I added with a shrug. 

Ginny hummed, nodding as well. “I mean, we’re young so it doesn’t really matter right now, but you really haven’t liked anyone?” 

I looked at her and raised my eyebrows and watched as she finally relented. “Thank you. What about you Gin? I haven’t heard much from you about anyone recently.” I turned the conversation, honestly surprised by my realization.

Ginny hummed, thinking for a moment before speaking. “I mean there’s Harry and Dean, but you know I pretty much gave up on Harry.” She looked over at me. “What do you think about Seamus?” She grinned and I couldn’t keep in the incredulous laugh.

“Really? You think it’d be a good idea for me to pursue Finnigan?” I asked, sitting up and crossing my legs. 

“Okay maybe not Finnigan.” She agreed with a smile. She sat up and scooted back a little. 

“Oh, I was supposed to ask you guys if you want to come over tonight for dinner, mum and dad are doing a barbecue night.” I asked when I managed to remember. 

“I wish, Harry and Hermione are staying with us for a bit, I know mum wouldn’t want to impose with so many mouths to feed.” Ginny sighed, to which I laughed.

“Oh please my family loves company, maybe a little too much. They’d love to host them too.” I returned and waved a hand before choosing to sit against the wall. 

- 

The school year was going alright so far. I was obtaining pretty good marks in my classes, the only thing that sucked was that a certain someone was actually dating Dean Thomas. It honestly broke my heart when Ginny told me she was dating him. Of course I was roped into so called “double dates” since Seamus and I were both single. I despised such dates and I knew he wasn’t very fond of them either considering the fact he drags his feet and slumps quite a bit on the way. Him and I actually did become friends through this and I knew he had his eye on some smart Ravenclaw at the moment.

“You could just, I don’t know, ask her out? Then you, Dean, and Ginny could go on a real double date instead of having the two of us tag along miserably as we watch our best friends get all mushy.” I pointed out, figuring the suggestion would be helpful. He looked horrified by the suggestion.

“Oh as if you can talk, you’ve never gone out with anyone.” He retorted to which I shrugged, kicking a rock.

“I’ve never liked anyone who’s liked me back. That, or I come to my senses before there are any moves made. It’s just not something that’s in my cards.” I half-explained, there was no point in telling the full truth. 

I was jostled a little as Ginny trotted up to me and slid her arm through mine. “Sorry Finnigan, she’s mine now.”

“I guess I’ll see you later, don’t forget to use some of that Gryffindor courage.” I teased before walking away from him and Dean and turning my attention to my best friend.

“You two were getting along well.” She pointed out, I looked at her, raising my eyebrows. 

“You know he likes a girl from Ravenclaw right?” I mentioned, just wanting her to leave it be.  

“You're a girl from Ravenclaw.” She pointed out to which my mouth dropped open in surprise. 

I took a moment, my mouth opening and closing as I tried to figure out what to say. “I’m pretty sure it’s not me...” I told her to which she laughed. “Besides, it doesn’t matter. I like someone else.”

“What? You never mentioned that! Who is it?” Ginny looked way too excited to the half truth. It's not like it'd matter. Nothing bad would ever come of lying about this so, might as well. I looked towards her and smirked before having to laugh at her pout. 

I took a moment to think up some random guy who was far too unobtainable.

"Okay fine, I just don't know how to tell you." I only kinda admitted since it's actually not a he in the first place, letting out a long breath. "I'm sorry Ginny, I'm in love with Bill." I watched as she pulled away in horror, gasping dramatically.

"No you do not! You do not like Bill!" She exclaimed far too loudly. I couldn't help but laugh. When she took notice she hit me on the arm, fairly light.

"Merlin, you should've seen your face!" I laughed, turning from her and taking off in a run back to the castle, knowing full well she would be chasing after me.

I ran inside, immediately finding Professors McGonagall and Flitwick conversing down the hall. I turned to go back outside, only for Ginny to collide with me. I let out a groan grabbing onto her so I wouldn’t fall. 

“What are you-” she started before looking past me and seeing the professors. “-oh.” She muttered, grabbing my hand and pulling me back outside. “To the lake it is!” She declared, leading me out to the lake. 

-

It had been months since Ginny suggested Seamus has a crush on me. I still didn’t believe it, until she pointed out all the flirting he did towards me and the looks he threw my way. I started to notice too. 

I couldn’t believe what was happening. Ginny had convinced me to sit at the Gryffindor table with Dean and Seamus for dinner. Unfortunately for me she was sat across from me beside Dean and Seamus had taken the seat beside me. I stared at Ginny, giving her a look to express how betrayed I felt at the moment. Seamus was acting way more confident in how he acted towards me. Ginny gave me an innocent smile before turning her attention back to her boyfriend. 

I reluctantly turned my attention back to the boy beside me and couldn’t help, but smile when I saw him looking back at me with an orange peel in front of his teeth. I decided to relent and looked around the table. I grabbed my spoon, glad I hadn’t chosen to eat an and breathed on the concave side of it before sticking it on my nose. I turned to look at him with a small smirk as he laughed at the sight, but he wasn’t the only one. Ginny was looking at me and laughing behind a well placed hand in an attempt to hide the fact that she was watching us. I turned my gaze away from her as Seamus took his own spoon to try the same thing. 

After dinner, full of thrilling conversation and many jokes, we were walking back towards our common rooms. When we got to a point where I’d part ways to go to my common room I stopped, everyone else following suit.

“I know we usually hang out after dinner, but I’ve got some essays to finish up.” I told them, angling myself towards the Ravenclaw common room. 

“You’d choose homework over us?” Ginny complained, feigning hurt. 

“Oh please I’m choosing homework now so I can choose you later.” I reminder her with a laugh. Ginny let out a long breath, but eventually nodded. 

“Fine. I’ll let you this time.” She muttered before laughing when she saw the face I was making. 

“Whatever, Gin.” I laughed as she hugged me. “Have a good night boys.” I said with a short wave. I turned away and made my way back to my common room.

-

Seamus did not fancy me. I found out from him when we were hanging out with Dean and Ginny in the library. They were off making out in a back corner. I didn’t know who she was well. She was in his year and I didn’t talk much to people who weren’t in my year. He had told Dean and Ginny probably knew by now.

Later on I was hanging out with Ginny and Luna. Seeing my smirk Ginny cut me off before I could say anything. 

“Don’t say it. Dean told me. I hate it when you’re right.” She muttered, I laughed at her words, shaking my head before explaining to Luna what we were talking about.

“You thought Seamus liked her? They would have never worked out.” Luna commented offhandedly, looking down at the latest issue of The Quibbler, one I’d probably borrow from her and read. It was definitely my guilty pleasure. 

I stared at Luna, my eyes wide. I knew she knew how I felt about Ginny. I had never told her, but she was too observant for my own good. 

“What does that mean?” Ginny asked, looking between us. Luna looked up, looking at Ginny, before looking at me.

“She fancies someone else.” Luna answered simply. 

“Luna!” I cried, face palming. Now Ginny would never leave it be. 

“What? You never told me that!” Ginny complained, looking at me. “We’ve been best friends forever!” 

I sighed, shaking my head, “I never told anybody. Luna figured it out on her own. We’re dorm-mates and she’s super observant. It’s like impossible to hide anything from her.”

“Well who is it then?” She asked, I didn’t answer right away, leading her to gasp. “It’s not Harry is it?” She questioned, looking betrayed. I made a disgusted face. 

“Are you kidding me? Do you really think I’d fancy someone you’ve been in love with since forever?” I retorted, growing upset. I quickly stood and grabbed my things. “And do I need to remind you that you do in fact have a boyfriend who isn’t him? You’re acting betrayed at the prospect of me liking him, yet here you are lusting after him when you should be loyal to Thomas. Who are you kidding even dating him? Everyone knows he’s just a detour on your way to Potter.” I turned on my foot and walked into Thomas. My eyes went wide and I glanced down at Ginny. I swallowed hard, turning my gaze downward and trudging past him and to the library instead. Luna followed shortly after since I had managed to start a fight. 

- 

It was  well after the winter holiday. I had managed to break up Dean and Ginny before winter break, but Ginny, shortly after the break up, started to date Harry. My heart quite literally broke when I heard the news. She hasn’t talked to me since Dean broke up with her, which I understood. Luna was ironically the only person keeping me sane. I sat down at my desk and grabbed a roll of parchment. I was the only one in my dormitory at the moment, might as well use the time.

Ginny, 

I’ve probably written and rewritten this letter a thousand times. I’ve never known what to say. I’ve tried “I’m sorry” over and over again. That felt weird. You haven’t talked to me since the fight and I haven’t figured out a way to approach you since the first few times I apologized. I figured now was as good a time as ever to write this out. I don’t even know if I’ll send it. I’ve practically ruined this friendship anyways so there’s not really anything stopping me. Here goes nothing...

I have never had a crush on any guy since he who I cannot bring myself to name. I have always had my eye on someone though. I never thought I’d actually tell you. The reason why I never told you who I fancied, was because it’s you. It’s always been you. You’re so brave and confident and amazing at everything you do. How could I not eventually fall for you? It was only a matter of time. I didn’t even realize it at first. Luna said something about how my feelings for you were obvious and I haven’t been able to calm my heart since. Every time we’re together, I get butterflies. I’ve learned that I love you. Even now it’s hard to admit. I could burn this and it wouldn’t matter. You are my everything. I just want you to be happy and I can tell you are even though it hurts to know it’s without me. I will always love you. 

Your Ravenclaw and Admirer

I read over the letter, only just now noticing a few tear stains. Had I really been crying? I guess I did notice my vision getting wonky. I just had to pound this out already. 

I rolled up the parchment, tying it off with some twine. Me being the dork I am, I grabbed some wild flowers from what I picked today and put in a vase and stuck it under the twine. I wrote her name beside the bow and grabbed my sealing wax. I cut a few chunks off and placed it in an old spoon that I used to heat it. I poured it over the bow, letting it drip down the curve of the scroll. Picking up the scroll I pressed my lips against it before moving to my open window. 

I gave a sharp and loud whistle and waited for my owl, Hecate, to perch on my window. I tied it to her leg. “This goes to Ginny.” I muttered, giving her a few treats. “Don’t wait around long enough to see if she writes back. I don’t want to put her out anymore than this. And make sure she gets it when she’s alone. I don’t need to be embarrassing myself more than that.” I told Hecate, brushing a hand over her head. I knew Ginny would be out by the lake, but I didn’t know if she’d be with anybody.

Hecate gave a short trill before flying out. I sighed, watching her go. I went to my bed and laid down, closing the canopy around me. Might as well try to get a little rest. 

-

I woke up to someone forcibly pulling my bed’s curtains back. I groaned, turning away. “Closed curtains means do not disturb.” I muttered allowing myself to fall back asleep. I peaked an eye open as a crumpled piece of parchment was dropped atop me. I saw the was drippings and a G on the paper before sitting up. I looked to the red headed girl I hadn’t had the chance to properly speak to in months. 

“Ginny? How did you get in?” I asked grabbing the paper I had poured my heart onto. I started to smooth it out over my knee, frowning, welcoming any reason to not look directly at her. 

“I answered a riddle, it wasn’t very difficult.” She retorted. She pulled my desk chair towards the bed and sat in it. Once it was straightened out I set the letter on my desk. I looked to her waiting for her to say something, why she was here. 

“I obviously got your letter.” She nodded at it and I shrugged. “I didn’t know. You acted so weird about it.” She told me. “I thought the worst.”

“It doesn’t matter, you ended up with the man of your dreams.” I muttered, crossing my legs beneath me. 

“We broke up.” She whispered, I barely heard it. 

“What?” I asked, completely caught off guard. 

“Your letter, it made me think... I wasn’t worried about you liking him... I was worried about you liking him, because it wasn’t me. I wanted you to like me.” She admitted, swallowing hard, “something felt weird about my relationship with him. Something just wasn’t there. You weren’t there.”

“Ginny, I-” I started to say, looking to my hands and playing with my comforter. I looked back to her only to be taken completely off guard. 

Ginny’s hands came up to cup either side of my face and she was kissing me. My eyes fluttered closed as I leaned into her touch, my hands moving to her waist. She stood from the chair and climbed onto my bed, straddling me. The kiss deepened and suddenly everything seemed to fall right into place.

[winchest09]

Sweet Dreams

Pairing: Sam Winchester x reader

Word Count: 3375

Rating: 18 +

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of sex, nakedness, sexual dreams, kissing, grinding, sexual themes.

A/N: So this was a lovely request of @fandom-princess-forevermore​! I’m sorry it took so long hun, I went a little M.I.A but I wanted to do this for you. I hope you enjoy it and that it was what you were asking for :) 

Request: Hey, so I was thinking about the episode where Sam dreams of Bela; except he'll dream of the reader and the dream shows heavy make out session with reader in his lap grinding and when Sam wakes up the dream comes true.(use a gif of young Sam)

If you enjoyed, please let me know! Feedback is fuel! :)

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Main Masterlist

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It had been a long day alongside a grueling hunt. You and the Winchesters had been out hunting down a ghost that was terrorising a local school; pupils being found asphyxiated in the bathroom. It hadn’t taken long to figure out the cause of the haunting, and which deceased person was behind it but it did take a long time to find the item that the ghost was still attached to. You’d dug out the grave, you’d searched the old house before eventually finding and destroying what you were after. Not without interruption, though; the ghost deciding to come and throw Sam and you across the room several times. 

Cracking his neck, Sam wiggled the key to the motel door in the lock before hearing the satisfying click that it was open. With it being so late, as a group, you had collectively decided to stay in town overnight before moving on the following day. So, you'd chosen the nearest motel and luckily got the last remaining suite. As Sam opened the door, his eyes immediately scanned the room as his brother pushed past him. 

“Two beds and no sofa, looks like we’re bunking,” Dean stated, throwing his duffle onto one of the double beds. You slid past Sam also, placing your duffle onto one of the vacant chairs in the room. 

“Alright, so who’s the lucky guy I’m sleeping with tonight?” you asked playfully, your hands on your hips as your eyes flicked from one brother to the other. Sam swallowed hard, the truth was that he had been attracted to you for the past week. He’d been looking at you differently, finding the most innocent of things you do attractive. His mouth would go dry when you hugged him, his palms would go sweaty when you were within touching distance and his mind would go into overdrive whenever he knew you were in the shower. He couldn’t let you share a bed with his brother; you needed to share a bed with him. 

“Rock, paper, scissors?” Sam suggested, eyebrows raised as he looked towards Dean. In truth, he knew it was a game that he could rig. Dean would always play scissors; so he just needed to play paper. 

“Seriously?” you asked, taking the hands off of your hips, “wow, make a girl feel special why don’t you,” you chuckled as you turned to open your duffle bag. Sam just eyed his brother, both of them wearing serious faces like this was a true war before placing their balled fists on top of their flat palms. 

With a look, Sam and Dean slapped their fists against their palms twice in succession before drawing their chosen play. Sam tried to hide his smile when he noticed that Dean, in true fashion, played scissors. Dean’s eyes went wide in surprise when he noticed Sam’s hand was flat against his palm, his play being paper, before he cheered in victory.

“Oh, yes!” Dean shouted, pumping his arm into him before falling backwards onto the bed, spreading his arms out wide. “Look at all this space,” he boasted, wiggling into the hard mattress a little more. Sam just rolled his eyes at his brothers antics before looking at you from under his fringe. 

“You know, I’m starting to think I should make you two share,” you jested, pointing between the two brothers before crossing your arms. Sam felt his stomach drop, he didn’t want to lose the chance of sleeping next to you and he certainly didn’t want to share a bed with his brother. 

“Are you kidding, sweetheart?” Dean scoffed as he sat himself up, “I’m surprised you sleep so well next to this giant,” he joked, motioning towards Sam who was still standing near the doorway. 

“Shut up, Dean,” Sam mumbled, placing his duffle onto the end of the free bed before pulling out his laptop. Dean just rolled his eyes as he stood. 

“Whatever, grumpus,” Dean mumbled, a frown on his face due to how Sam was acting. “I’m going to head out for a beer. You coming?” he asked you as he walked towards the motel door. Sam glanced your way as he walked over to set his laptop on the table you were standing next to. He hoped you’d say no, he hoped that you’d stay in and keep him company. 

“Sorry, De, I have a date with the shower,” you replied, throwing your thumb over your shoulder towards the bathroom door. Sam took in a deep breath and tried to hide his smile as he sat down, opening the lid of his laptop. 

“Well, enjoy,” Dean half laughed, “don’t wait up.” He grinned as he headed out of the door. Sam let out the breath he was holding as a comfortable silence fell over the room. He carefully watched how you pulled out your nightwear from your duffle and headed for your shower. 

As soon as you shut the door behind you, he let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand down his face. He didn’t know what to do about this new found attraction. He was trying to act as normal as he possibly could around you but it was getting hard.  He was getting hard. He just wanted to scoop you up in his arms and show you just how attracted he was to you. He looked back to his laptop screen as he cleared his throat and pushed the hair out of his face, he needed to take his mind off you so he needed to look for a case. He thought that would be a good distraction. 

Boy, was he wrong. 

He found himself just staring at the words on the screen, his mind not taking any of it in. When you opened the bathroom door after your shower, he had to swallow hard. You were wearing just a tank top, no bra and some pyjama shorts. Your hair was still wet and you had a towel in hand, dabbing at a few wet spots your hair had left on your chest. Sam couldn’t help but stare, he knew he shouldn’t but you just looked so damn good. However, you caught his stare as you looked up and Sam felt his cheeks flush slightly. He quickly went back to looking at his screen.

“You alright, Sammy?” you asked him, scrunching your hair with your towel as you walked towards him, a small smile resting on your lips. 

“Oh, yeah. Fine. Just tired, you know?” he replied, his voice a little strained as he attempted to keep his eyes on yours and not on your breasts. 

“Oh, I know,” you chuckled as you rubbed at your wet hair with a towel. “Found anything good?” You got closer to him, peering your head over his shoulder to look at the screen, your breast gently brushing against his shoulder as the scent of your shampoo washed over him. Sam just cleared his throat, trying to resist the urge to turn around. 

“Not yet,” he breathed, pressing his fingers to the keyboard so they wouldn’t touch anything else. 

“I’m sure something will pop up soon,” you commented before you walked away and perched yourself on the bed. You have no idea Sam thought, pulling on his jeans discreetly as he shuffled in his seat to get more comfortable. Tonight was going to be a long night. 

Sam had been sat at his computer for a couple of hours, browsing random website after random website. In truth, he wasn’t looking for a new case as he couldn’t concentrate on anything supernatural whilst you were lying half naked in the bed he was going to be sharing with you. His mind wouldn’t let him focus on any unusual activity because all he could think about was how you looked when you walked out of that bathroom. He glanced over to you once more, you’d fallen asleep about an hour ago, lying on your side with your arm under the pillow. He was trying to keep himself awake for as long as he could, knowing that lying down next to you would be torture but sure enough, sleep was starting to take over. 

With a yawn, he closed the lid on his laptop and started to undress, pulling his shirt over his head before rummaging in his duffel for his sweatpants. He was about to walk into the bathroom to change but with you out cold, he didn’t have to worry about you seeing him naked. Not that he would mind. As he got dressed into only his sweatpants, he shuffled his way over to his side of the bed, pulling back the covers and settling down on his back. He turned to switch off the table lamp before putting both of his arms behind his head, resting on his hands. He couldn’t resist the urge, however, to turn his head to look at you as you were sleeping; you looked so peaceful. His eyes scanned every feature on your face, the way your lips were slightly parted, the way your forehead was slightly wrinkled due to what you were dreaming about and the way your hair was lightly framing your face. He took a deep breath before rolling his head to look back at the ceiling, his eyelids feeling heavy as thoughts of you filled his head. 

Sam shuffled in his seat, his fingers tapping away at his keyboard as he looked up websites related to the case he was researching. Everything that he was looking for was coming up as a dead end and it was starting to frustrate him. Even though you all had just come back from a case that evening, he was eager to get back on the road. Even though being on the road wasn’t much better, he was still in a confined space with you; the woman he wanted more than anything. 

As he focused on his computer, he heard the sound of the shower turning off. You’d decided to take a long one after coming back from the hunt, telling him that you wanted to relax under the hot spray. Dean had tried to convince you all to join him at the local bar for beers but you’d politely declined, something Sam was happy about. It wasn’t long until you opened the bathroom door and Sam had to ground himself when he saw you walk out in just a tiny motel towel. It was hardly covering anything. Your hair was wet and dripping down your chest, beads of water running into your cleavage. Sam swallowed hard, his grip on his laptop was harder as he tried his best not to stare. 

“You alright, Sammy?” you asked, your voice sounding sultry. Sam glanced between you and his laptop, rubbing his clammy hands against his thighs.

“Mhm, fine,” he replied a little quickly, giving you a tight smile before he quickly went back to staring at his screen. As hard as he tried, his eyes kept flicking back towards you as you approached him slowly, your hands playing with the hem of your towel.

“You sure? You look a little...distracted.” You bit your lip as you got closer to Sam still. You were an arm's length away from him, standing just to his side so you were perfectly in his line of sight. You swayed from side to side coyly, your fingers now caressing the curve of your breasts over the motel towel. 

“I...well…” Sam started, his tongue tying as he tried to speak, his cheeks burning when he looked at you. His eyebrows shot to his hairline as you swayed closer to him. 

“Is it my towel?” you asked him provocatively, your hands coming to the hem that was wrapped around your chest, “because I can always just…” you pulled your towel apart slowly, your eyes never leaving the dark orbs of Sam’s. 

“Y/N?!” Sam squeaked, his voice strained as his eyes were trained on your hands. You slowly peeled the towel from your body, dropping it to the floor by your feet. Sam’s eyes grew wide and his cock grew hard. You were perfect. “Oh, shit,” he groaned, his hands balling on his thighs as he fought the urge to reach out and touch you.  

“I can’t stop thinking about you, Sam. The way your large hands would feel on my body,” you purred,  placing your hands on Sam’s clothed chest as you leaned your naked body over him.

“Y/N…” he husked, his hands now palm flat against him, his fingers twitching to pull you close. 

“I need you,” you breathed, picking Sam’s hands up and placing them on your bare hips, your lips ghosting over his.

“You sure?” he asked, wanting your permission before he lost himself in you. 

“Fuck yeah.” You grinned. It took barely a second for Sam’s lips to crash up onto yours, his hands wrapped around your body, pulling you as close as possible. You responded eagerly, your hands snaking into his dark hair as you mounted his lap. Sam growled against your lips when you wrapped your legs tightly around him for as much as the chair would allow. He kissed your skin with hunger, his lips trailing along your jawbone down to the pulse point on your neck where he gently bit. He felt how you dug your nails into his scalp in response, gasping as you ground your core against his hard clothed cock. He hissed slightly as you slowly started to rock your body against him, grinding down onto his length. 

“Y/N,” he moaned. He could feel the heat from your pussy through his jeans and he was becoming desperate, he needed you and he needed you now. He stood up off the chair, holding on tightly to your thighs as he walked you over to the bed, your arms wrapped around him as you kissed him passionately. He placed you gently on the bed, parting your legs before standing back to admire the view. “Fuck, you’re beautiful,” he groaned. 

He quickly stripped himself of his clothing before coming down on top of you,  placing his arms either side of your head to support his weight as he kissed you roughly once more. His kisses then trailed down your neck, down through the valley of your breasts towards your navel. He let the tip of his tongue trail over your mound before he flattened it out against your clit. You threw your head back, your hands grabbing at the sheets as Sam’s tongue ran through your folds.  

“Sam!” you moaned, your voice loud as you wound your fingers in his hair, “oh god, don’t stop, Sam,” you panted, “Sam!” 

“Sam, hey, Sam,” a harsh whisper woke him, your fingers poking gently at his chest, “wake up,” you continued. Sam opened his eyes, albeit a bit groggily as he tried to focus on your face through the darkness. 

“Hm, Y/N?” came his sleepy response, his eyes finally adjusting so he could see your face. Your head was on the pillow, still facing him however you were smirking at him, something his sleepy self was confused over. He realised he was now on his side facing you, noting that he must have rolled over in his sleep. 

“What the hell were you dreaming about?” you sniggered slightly, pushing him playfully on the chest before the cold rush of realisation washed over him. He had been dreaming about you. 

“W-what?” Sam stuttered, trying to look anywhere but into your eyes. He was thankful it was dark because he could already feel the heat burning at his cheeks. 

“Sam, you were pornographically moaning in your sleep,” you giggled, “plus something was digging into my ass,” you insinuated before Sam’s eyes went wide. It had taken a moment for him to adjust to being woken up and now his mind and body were one, he realised; he had a boner. A boner that had distrubed the woman that’d he’d been having a very vivid dream about. At that moment, Sam wanted the ground to swallow him whole. 

“Oh shit,” he cursed, placing his hand over it before scooting over on the bed. "Y/N, I'm so sorry," he started, not knowing what else to say. Sam looked over your shoulder to noticed Dean’s bed was still empty, something he was thankful for. The last thing he wanted was his brother teasing him for the next few months about him having a dirty dream.  You just giggled once more, pushing the hair out of your eyes as you looked over at Sam.  

“Don't be sorry, Sammy," you whispered, your giggles disappearing. Sam watched how you scooted closer to him, chasing him across the bed so your chest was near enough brushing against his."Tell me about your dream," you purred, placing your hand flat on his bare chest. Sam had to concentrate on his breathing and his boner. He was sure you’d be able to feel his heart beating a million miles a minute and your touch was doing nothing to aid his situation. 

"I-I don't really remember it," Sam stammered, looking down at you and swallowing hard when he realised your lips were just a few inches from his. Your hand slowly stroking his chest, back and forth. 

"That's a shame, I thought I heard you moan my name. I was interested to know just what I was doing to cause such a reaction," you breathed, your hand sliding lower down his abdomen to the waist of his sweatpants. Sam felt like he had to be a gentlemen about this. 

"Y/N...You-I," he started, his large hand coming to wrap around your small wrist. He didn’t want to stop you, he was so desperate for this to go ahead but he needed to be sure this was what you wanted. With his other hand, he brushed some of the hair from your face, his dark orbs searched yours, looking for any sign that you didn’t want this. You just smiled at him, snuggling that tiny bit closer as you lightly raked your nails back up his chest, your lips dangerously close to his.  

"Tell me, Sam," you encouraged, your lips coming to his ear before you gently nibbled on his lobe. Sam couldn’t help the groan that bled from his lips, surely this wasn’t happening? Surely he was still dreaming? The feeling of your breath on his cheek, your hands on his chest made him realise however, that this was very much real. 

"F-fuck," Sam groaned, his cock twitching beneath his sweatpants as you draped your body over his. There was no use trying to fight it, he wanted you. "You'd just come out the shower, you were in just a towel,” he started, swallowing hard as he felt you push him harder, encouraging him to roll onto his back, “you dropped the towel in front of me, wrapped your legs around me, said you wanted me,” he continued, his breath catching in his throat as he felt your hot lips touch his chest. He thought he was going to lose it there and then. 

“A bit like this?” you asked him seductively, leaning up to throw a leg over his waist before you had mounted him. He looked up at you, his eyes wide as you ran your hands down his chest, your pussy hot against his cock. “What else, Sammy?” 

“Y-you started grinding,” he told you, feeling brave enough to place his hands on your hips. The way you felt on top of him was amazing, the way you looked, the way you acted; nothing could have been more attractive. With those last words, you started to buck your hips, grinding your core against his hard, throbbing cock and he could do nothing but groan. He was at your mercy, and he loved it. 

“How about we finish what dream me started?” you purred, pulling your vest top over your head to reveal your bare breasts to the youngest Winchester. In one swift motion, Sam placed his hands behind your back and flipped you onto the mattress, his hands either side of your head with his chest pressed against yours. 

“Fuck, yeah.”

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A/N: I really hope you enjoyed this Sam oneshot! I had fun writing this :) 

Thanks for reading guys,

Winchest09 xox

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