#like the parts from sam’s pov were not well written!!

[zepskies]

Wowowow!! 😍 First of all, thanks so much. You really spoiled me with this review and it totally made my day!

I find it really interesting that this fic is the first one you've read from me, since it's such a "niche" pairing. But I love that you loved it (and my writing 🥰)!! Christmas is my favorite holiday too -- in no small part because of the food! lol I had fun incorporating my family's traditions into this one, and of course, feeding Dean. 😆

Diving into the rest of your amazing (and hilarious) comments below!

(you should know as I'm typing this I am daydreaming about the flan, you should just straight up know that LOL)

Giiiirl, get you some flan! My mom makes it so good. I can't wait for the holidays. 😮‍💨

I am happily being led while pushing Dean out of the way to get to it first. Lovingly of course lol.

lolll I'm dead! I can picture Dean's (playful) outrage. 😂

Not going to lie, I'd be giving Sam a little bit of the stink eye myself. What is so wrong with Dean enjoying himself a little? Besides...give me ALL the flan!!! Sam doesn't know what he's missing.

Right? Don't bother the man on Christmas lmao. Sam ate plenty on this round too, he has no room to judge! 😆

This right here is perfection. It made my heart break for Dean as well as Sam for their childhood, what Dean had to sacrifice at times to take care of Sam, how Sam never realized it before...just so perfectly written and so on point.

Aww thank you. It was an HC of mine that stemmed from bits we got of their childhood, and that one ep where someone was like, "You ever been hungry? Like haven't eaten in days, hungry?" And Dean was like, "Yeah..." 😭😭

I feel like from Sam's POV, he would never have known hunger with Dean around, even when things were tight and they were waiting on John.

Moments like this are worth melting for. 😉 (seriously though, I'm pretty sure I have to call someone to get the wetvac to get me up off of the floor)

LOLL honestly same! Oh for Dean to gather me to his chest in a warm snuggle. 🫠🫠

The whole ending scene just makes my heart glad, especially with her offering to go for a walk with Dean, most likely keeping in mind what Sam said (while Sam is keeping what she said in mind - like I said, perfection!) , but I especially loved the ending sequence right here:

Ahhh you caught what I was laying down there! She cares about Dean's health, but she also cares about his happiness. While Sam's now going to be taking what she said into account and try to have a convo with his brother about it in the future.

Ahaha and he so DOES wear shorts when the need arises! 😏

This was just beyond sweet and it was something I very much needed back when I read through it the first time. (I'm sorry I didn't leave feedback until now! I'm trying to be better about that these days) I love the way you write the Winchesters and this one shot cemented you as one of my favorite writers I've come across in this fandom (as well as a few others 😉).

Aww I'm so glad this little fic could give you some much needed escapism. (It's ok, friend. I'm just grateful that you did!) And that's an amazing compliment, thank you!! I'm honored to be counted as one of your favorites! 😭💜

I definitely cannot wait to dive into the Midnight Espresso verse and get more of these two. You did a beautiful job here, lovely!!! Well done!!! 😊💖💖

I would absolutely love it if you delved deeper into the Midnight Espresso verse!! It's a passion series of mine, so it really means that much more to me that you enjoyed it, as well as left such a heartfelt review. 💕

Get Stuffed

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus-sized Latina!Reader

Summary: Dean enjoys the way you cook Christmas dinner with a Latin flair, even if Sam likes to tease him about his insatiable appetite. You remind Sam about the true reason behind one of Dean’s biggest quirks.

AN: This was requested by my lovely friend @iprobablyshipit91: Sam making the usual digs at Dean about his diet, and how much he eats, and the reader pulling him aside and telling him to back off as he doesn’t realize how much Dean went hungry as a kid to make sure Sam was fed.

Word Count: 1,800 Tags/Warnings: Fluff, innuendo, tinge of angst

**This story can be read as stand-alone, but you can also check out the full masterlist of one-shots below. ⤵️

☕ Midnight Espresso Masterlist

“Aw, hell yeah,” Dean mutters. He rubs his hands together and surveys the immovable feast that’s about to get shoveled into his mouth.

This Christmas marks roughly your first year living with the brothers Winchester in the bunker, and a few months after your first anniversary with Dean.

He’s made it very clear that he enjoys your cooking, especially of Cuban food. So you’ve gone all out for Christmas: white rice and your grandmother’s recipe for black beans, boiled yuca with plenty of garlic, bread drizzled with more garlic and olive oil, and Dean’s favorite…

“What’s this part of the pig called again?” he asks. And he uses a large fork to spear into the mountain of roasted meat that you’ve already cut and piled onto a platter.

You come in from the kitchen with the bread in hand, placing it on the dinner table. You sidle up behind him, where he's seated.

“The shoulder,” you say, squeezing both of Dean’s. He hums in interest as you press a kiss to the side of his head. “It’s called pernil. Marinated with garlic, mojo, bunch of good stuff.”

He predictably steals a juicy piece of meat, plopping it into his mouth. He grins while he chews and makes a happy sound.

“Ohoho, yeah.”

You share an amused look with Sam, who sits beside his brother. By the time you’ve found your seat on Dean’s other side, he’s already serving you and Sam the same hefty portions he serves himself.

You know for a fact you’re only going to eat about half of your plate. Sam manages to polish his off. Dean does as well…and serves himself twice more before you break out the dessert.

“Please tell me that’s a flan,” Dean says, drumming his fingers on the table.

“How the hell are you still hungry?” Sam asks.

The look on his face says he’s half entertained, half disgusted. Dean is still sucking on the crispy skin on a piece of pork. He licks the juices off his fingers.

“Have I taught you nothing?” he says. “There’s always room for dessert.”

He tosses you a wink, followed closely by a suggestive smirk. You glance at him with a smile as you set down the metal pan.

“It is a flan,” you affirm. “I tried my hand at coconut this time.”

“Ooh, tropical,” Dean says, waggling greasy fingers. He wipes them on a napkin before he reaches for the pie cutter, which is usually reserved for his favorite dessert. Although, flan is rapidly becoming his second go-to. The rich custardy goodness is calling to him like a siren song.

“How can I get you to make this more often?” Dean mutters while carving out a generous slice.

Your lips curve. You rest your chin on your hand and lean towards him, earning his gaze. “If I made it all the time, you wouldn’t savor it, now would you?”

Dean smirks. His gaze lowers to your lips, like he’s contemplating some persuasive maneuvers.

“You’d also be 300 pounds,” Sam remarks, taking a sip of his beer.

You eye Sam with a frown. But Dean just laughs it off and cuts his little brother a slice.

By the end of the meal, all three of you are stuffed. Dean groans and leans back in his seat. A gurgle mounts audibly from his stomach.

“Jesus. Are you erupting?” Sam says.

Dean holds up a finger. “Wait for it.”

You give your boyfriend a bemused look. You know exactly what’s about to happen. As does Sam, who’s grimacing.

A few seconds later, Dean does erupt, with a truly legendary belch.

“Nice,” you say wryly. Dean squeezes your soft, thick thigh and backs his chair away from the table.

“Well, since I roasted the pig and you did the rest, I’d say it’s Sammy’s turn on cleaning duty,” he says.

“Thanks,” Sam says, with a wan smile. Yours is more jovial, even as Dean’s hand toys with a curl of your hair after he stands.

“I’m gonna shower off the meat sweats,” he says.

You giggle, but you nod. “You do that. I’ll help Sam a bit, put away the food at least.”

Your smile becomes more genuine when Dean drops a kiss on your forehead from above.

“Thanks, sweetheart,” he says. His voice is a quiet, deep rumble washing over you. You know what he’s thanking you for: good food, and a small, but warm Christmas.

You reach up and give his cheek a tender touch, before he withdraws and makes his way to the bedroom he shares with you. It leaves you and Sam to collect what’s on the table and bring it all into the kitchen. While Sam does the dishes, you start to put away the leftovers.

Something has been nagging at you all night, though you’ve tried to stamp it down time and time again. You don’t know if it's your place to say something. Especially if Dean doesn’t seem bothered…but it bothers you. And you’ve never been one to hold your tongue.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” you begin, even as a small bit of trepidation niggles inside you.

Sam looks over at you. He’s quick to catch the serious note in your demeanor.

“Yeah, what’s up?” he replies. You okay? his eyes also ask.

“Why do you get on Dean so much for enjoying his food?” you ask.

Sam blinks. Then he scoffs a little. “There’s enjoying, and then there’s gluttony.”

“He’s not that bad,” you argue.

“He ate half his weight in pig,” Sam says. You can’t exactly deny that, but you cross your arms and turn to him, leaning your hip against the counter.

“So? It’s Christmas. Let him be happy,” you retort.

Sam levels you with pinched brows. “He’s not in his 20s anymore. All that crap he eats is going to catch up to him someday.”

“What, you expect him to down some kale smoothies?” you reply, giving a pointed brow raise and a teasing smile. “Get up at the crack of dawn for a bare-chested run?”

Sam shoots you a dry look.  

“My point is, I’m not gonna survive hundreds of monster attacks just to get taken down by cholesterol,” he says.

You sigh a raise a placating hand. “All right. I get what you’re saying. I’m just saying…have you ever thought about why he loves food so much? Why he overindulges sometimes?”

Sam's brow quirks. It’s a question you know you need to tread lightly in order to answer. You uncross your arms to lay a hand on Sam’s wrist. He stops washing dishes and turns off the sink to give you his full attention, sensing your shift.

You look up at him, and you steel yourself.

“He might’ve mentioned once…that you two sometimes had a hard time growing up. With John taking you guys from motel to motel while he was working a job, and every now and then, leaving you guys alone longer than he meant to.”

Dean had been more than a bit drunk when you’d gotten this out of him. Hearing about that aspect of his upbringing had upset you, not just as someone who cared about him, but the caretaker in you smarted.

“Even though you guys didn’t have enough money at times, your brother always made sure you were fed,” you explain. You meet Sam’s gaze, squeezing his arm. “Sometimes he went without.”

Sam’s expression slowly slackens, contemplative and dismayed at what you’re implying. He dries his hands on a kitchen towel and rubs at his mouth, like he’s reeling back the years of evidence in his mind and trying to confirm if you were right.

“You don’t remember?” you gently ask.

Sam shakes his head. “I mean, I knew things were tight. I remember him taking care of me, obviously. But…”

He doesn’t remember his brother going hungry.

It carves a hole of remorse in his chest.

This isn’t the first time he’s had to reexamine Dean’s role in his life, and not the first time he’s felt this flavor of guilt. But he sighs and really doesn’t know what to say.

You seem to realize that, and you squeeze his arm one last time.

“Just keep that in mind,” you implore.

You soon leave him to venture upstairs, but there in the kitchen, Sam makes a resolution before the new year. One that includes having a conversation with his brother.

You find Dean in your bedroom. Now in his most threadbare sweatpants and an old black shirt, he lays over the covers on the bed. His eyes are closed and his arms are folded behind his head, but he hears you when you come in.

You slide into bed next to him and lay your head on his chest. He groans deep and slowly lowers his arms. One of them wraps around your frame.

“Think I overdid it a bit,” he admits, cracking his eyes open. You smile and gently pat his stomach. 

“Wanna go for a walk tomorrow?” you ask. “We can go down to the park.”

Dean raises a brow at you. “You hate walking.”

“Not true,” you shake your head, before you rest more comfortably against him. He tucks you in beside him and begins to run his fingers down your arm. It’s a bit distracting.

“Could be nice, with the right view,” you add, though you shiver a little at his touch.

Dean makes a sound of mild interest in the idea. “I guess, if you like stringy trees and frozen lakes.”

It’s winter in Lebanon. Not much to look at.

You smirk and press a kiss to his chest. “I mean, that, and you in some little Richard Simmons shorts.”

Dean gives you a look, and you giggle so hard it shakes your whole body against him.

“Honestly, I think that’ll really do it for me,” you tease. You walk two fingers across his thigh, where a cute pair of ‘80s-style exercise shorts would cut off.

Dean grabs your hand and rolls you over, pinning you underneath him on the bed. His thigh slips between both of yours, causing friction against your jeans. And he smirks down at you.

“Sweetheart, I don’t do shorts.”

AN: 😂 A little callback to S1 at the end there. I hope you guys liked this! Just in time to prepare for my Christmas cooking! ❤️💚

Keep Reading:

Next up in this series is "A Wish to Build a Dream On":

Summary: Dean has been harboring the archangel Michael in his mind for weeks now, putting a strain on your relationship as you struggle to help him. When Dean makes a wish that accidentally brings his father back from the dead, you get to meet the (in)famous John Winchester. But as always with magic, your boyfriend’s wish has unintended consequences.

▶️ Next Story: A Wish to Build a Dream On

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[samantha-and-nellie]

you know what. i’m not actually done being mad about samantha’s beforever titanic story.

like it was insane of them to include that event in the american girl canon no matter which way you cut it, but then they specifically chose the one character whose story already has maritime disaster (albeit at a smaller scale) underpinning it!!!

who decided that uncle gard, who had had his sister drown just over a decade ago, should have to spend several days wondering if his wife and two of his children had drowned. who at that goddamn meeting decided that grandmary should be put through the worry again.

most of all, who the hell thought samantha should end her canonical appearances in the ag universe in this way!!!

[abeautylives]

Times I Remember Well

(and Some That I Don’t)

Part 1

author’s note: I’m really excited to have something to share with you guys. It’s written from a diff POV than I usually do, but my main character girly pop has a lot of personality 😘 Big big big thank you to bff @samkiszkasfacialhair for all the help, the ideas, and the motivation 🤍

pairing: female!OCxkiszkas (just read it, you’ll figure it out)

time frame: 2010-2014

word count: 5.7k this part

warnings: language, illicit substance use, rampant teenage emotions and delulu, kissing, josh 🥺

I don’t actually remember the day I met Sam Kiszka.

Not the date, or even the day of the week. I do know what year it was, because it was the year my mom moved us to this quaint (read: weird) little town. Charming, but weird. And boring.

Boring, until I met Sam.

Eleven-year-old Sam was a menace, but twelve-year-old me was bored. So obviously, we became the best of friends. He taught me how to light a firecracker, I had an endless supply of Barbies to blow up. He showed me how to slip out of my bedroom window without making a sound, I told him how to impress girls without grossing them out. In our early teenage years, he introduced me to drugs and I taught him how to unclasp a bra. Chill out, it was weed, and I wasn’t even wearing the bra.

My mom just loved that I’d made such a great friend.

The first time I was allowed to play at his house I met his sister, who was closer to my age, but it was too late. Sam and I were already attached at the hip, though mine sat an inch or two higher than his for a couple of years, until a growth spurt and puberty eventually left him with the height advantage.

That was when he stopped calling me by my name, and started calling me Tiny. Like I said, a menace.

“You’re the coolest girl I know, even if you’re vertically challenged.”

Please note: the first time he said this to me, he had finally just surpassed me in height by half an inch.

Then of course, there were the twins. You’d think the eldest siblings would not have become a big part of my life, but they were just always around, and actually liked hanging out with their baby brother. Close knit family and all that. It’s weird, right? At the wise and worldly age of twelve, the two fourteen-year-olds terrified me. Josh and Jake were both scary in their own way to a pubescent girl on the cusp of teenager-dom. Jake was pretty quiet, but his ego was not. He was hot, okay? In like, a Justin Bieber-y way but also kind of a jock-y way, but a jock with a guitar. Whatever, I’m only human.

Josh was… well, Josh was Josh. Unlike anyone else I’d ever met, and not necessarily in a good way. He was loud, like, all the time. He never seemed to stop talking and ended most of his sentences at an eardrum-piercing decibel level. Fortunately, or not, he didn’t get hot until I was old enough to obsess over it.

I’m sure I didn’t speak a coherent word to either of them the entire first year of my friendship with Sam.

I have a million memories of the time I spent with Sam and his family, but I have no recollection of the day I fell in love with Josh Kiszka.

But once I did, it was a deep, obsessive kind of love that only a teenager can achieve. One day he was my best friend’s eccentric older brother and the next…

Well, the next he was a rockstar.

I mentioned the whole jock with a guitar thing that Jake had going on, and that really hadn’t changed, but somewhere along the way Josh had transformed from a loud, annoying theater kid to a genuine, full blown vocalist. I mean, for a while he was both.

When they first started playing together, I only gave a shit because they’d roped Sam into it too and it took up way too much of his time. I’d watch them play, and they weren’t… bad? They weren’t good either. My time could have been better spent watching R rated movies (scandalous) or, I don’t know, doing my homework. But nope! We were in a band now.

They practiced, a lot. It felt like all they did was practice, for at least a couple years. And I just watched dutifully, every weekend of every month of every year. They did get better.

But here’s the thing. I was there for all of it. I was there the day Jake ran into the living room and snatched Sam up by the back of his shirt. Come on Sammy boy, we need you on bass. I was there the day their buddy Kyle sat down at the drum kit and completed the ensemble. (I was also there the day he got replaced.) And of course, I was there the day Josh pushed his voice past the instruments and the amps, and went from a weak imitation of a rock singer to something else all together. Something totally and completely him.

That’s not the day I fell in love with him (I would’ve remembered), but it was the first time he had ever… impressed me. And not that I cared, but Jake was impressed too. I saw it on his face.

It was cute. In like, a sweet, brotherly way.

Okay, anyway! The combination of Jake’s skill and Josh’s raw talent got them noticed. (Sammy’s talent would develop over time, I didn’t forget about him. Sam, you’re the most talented one in the band.) And then they were playing actual gigs. I wasn’t allowed to go to most of those early ones, because for some reason these dive bars were permitting these pint sized, teenage Zeppelin wannabes to perform at them. Old people like our parents loved that shit. The locals went crazy for it.

They played Fischer Hall a couple times, right there in town, but around their third or fourth gig there, Josh had unbuttoned the flowy, floral, women’s blouse he was wearing and took to the stage with it hanging open, beaded necklaces draped down his bare chest and curly hair wild.

Why was he sort of… ripped? How had I never noticed? Were his pants always so tight? And low cut? I was sweating. I didn’t even know he was literally cosplaying Robert Plant.

Did I fall in love with him that night? Of course not, I already told you I don’t remember the day that happened.

The Saturday after my sixteenth birthday, I left my house around 8:30 to head to Sam’s. To my mom, this was an average Saturday night - I spent nearly all of them at Sam’s house, where his parents were always home. Ya know, or so mine thought. Whether the Kiszkas were actually home or not, we hung out in the garage.

That’s not as weird as it sounds, it was a really cool garage. With furniture and everything. And their instruments, a lot of them. I don’t know how every one of these guys knew how to play every instrument packed into that room, but they did. And by the time I was sixteen, they were really almost good at it.

(Jake was good. Very good… I told you he was hot.)

This particular Saturday though, this was going to be the Saturday that changed my life. And I wanted to dress the part.

In hindsight, I wore something I’d probably worn a hundred times. Then why had it taken me so long to get ready? I changed my jeans twice, my shirt at least ten times, added a sweater, threw it back on my bed, added a flannel, tossed that to the floor. Picked it back up and shoved my arms in, made sure it hung off my shoulder just so. Shoulders are sexy, right? Do guys like shoulders? Oh shit, what do guys even like?

Anyway, I left the house looking exactly as I always did.

I rode my bike slowly that night, already hyper aware of the sweat under my arms.

So I slowed my pedaling even further. When the house came into view, I hopped off the bike and walked it up the drive before tossing it to the grass outside the garage.

Okay, knock twice and just go in.

That’s what everyone always did, what I always did. Just knock twice then lift the door. Everyone was always welcome, come on in!

So go in, idiot.

Look, I did it eventually. Just like always, knock knock, lift the door enough to slip underneath, let it close behind me. Except when it rolled back to the ground, I lost my nerve and stood frozen there for a few seconds too long.

Sam called me out, because he’s a menace.

“The hell are you doing, Tiny? We started without you.”

I moved farther into the space, eyes bouncing between my options through the soft haze of pungent smoke that already hung over the room. There was my usual spot - on the floor, next to the spot where Sam sat cross-legged, his long frame folded and bent, his sharp elbows resting on his knees as he waited for the joint to make its way back to him.

Not tonight, I’m on a mission.

Jake sat to his left, in a well-worn, floral print wingback chair. It was comfortable enough for one person, decades of weight softening the strength of the cushion’s springs before it ever came to live in this particular garage. Jake’s body was slung over it, legs thrown haphazardly over an arm while his own were wrapped around an acoustic guitar. Typical. He tipped his chin at me from under the brim of a bucket hat, then nodded towards the floor beside him. Holy shit, does he want me to sit by him?! I think my fingers lifted in a barely-there wave but I’m not really sure they were functioning correctly.

Okay focus, he did not. Does not. Not in this lifetime.

Still without his next hit, Sam glanced up at me over his shoulder and patted the threadbare throw rug next to him. “Sit down weirdo, you’re making me paranoid.”

Nerves that I’d never, never, felt before in this room fluttered through my stomach, I let my gaze meet Sam’s before continuing the search for a place to plant myself.

There was really only one option left - the couch - and both ends were already occupied. Our friend Danny (Kyle’s replacement, sorry Kyle) was in the process of melting into the corner closest to Jake, his eyes glassy and already tinged pink when he looked up at me. Only his eyebrows lifted in greeting before he mirrored Sam’s offer to sit next to him, tapping the cushion beside him.

This is fine, totally normal! Danny was Sam’s other half. Well, his other male half. I guess we were in thirds. A trio.

I accepted the offering, stepping around the coffee table, scarred with years worth of “art” - drawings and carvings, a few discreet dirty words etched into the surface in between - to drop to the middle of the couch. One of Sam’s brows tipped up when I met his eyes again, his expression asking, “Dude, what gives?”

“Hey, you’re here!” He noticed me, finally. Silvery smoke crept from between his lips as he grinned, and I watched transfixed when they pursed together and he blew a cloud toward the ceiling. My stare was broken when he leaned across the table and passed the joint to an impatient Sam, but to the delight of the butterflies going nuts in the pit of my stomach, he leaned back into the cushions and threw an arm over the back of the couch behind me. EEEEP!

“Hey-“ It was a humiliating and unsexy croak, and I quickly cleared my throat and tried again. “Hey, Josh. Hi.”

His long hair was pulled back, his entire face available for my viewing pleasure. Things were going perfectly.

I joined the rotation, the weed easing the flutters caused by sitting so close to Josh, but amplifying the feeling that the other three were watching and wondering why I was acting so strange.

They were not. They were high.

Aside from the stray curious eyebrow from my BFF across the table, they actually acted like nothing was abnormal about my seating choice, even when I started to scooch imperceptibly to my left every time I adjusted the way I was sitting.

Pulled my legs up under me? Scooch.

Dropped them down so my sneakers met the cement? Scooch.

Crossed my left ankle over my right knee? Scooch.

It was totally subtle.

“I’m gonna grab a pop, you guys want anything?” Sam startled me out of a pleasant reverie as he jumped up from the floor, but my freaking knee was touching Josh’s knee! No I don’t want anything, I have everything I need right here!

It turned out Sam was a huge knee blocker. He gripped me by an elbow and peeled me from the couch as the others murmured at our retreating backs about needing Doritos. He pushed me out the side door and towards the house and had me in the kitchen before I could even tell him he was ruining everything!

Even through bleary, hooded eyes, his death glare was brutal.

“Saaammmmm, what are you doing?!” “What the hell do you think you’re doing, T?”

More glaring. He broke the glare-off first, jerking his head to the side to flick his hair out of his eyes and turning to open the refrigerator, but once his face was inside it, he called me out again.

“Why are you being so weird with Josh?”

I love him, I need him!

“Whaaa.. I don’t know what you mean. You’re just super high.” Yeah, I really thought that would work. Sue me!

Straightening to his full height (seriously, like two inches taller than me… maybe three), he spun to face me again. He actually looked down his nose at me.

“Do you like, like him? What the fuck, Tiny?” He whispered that last part, as if his parents were lurking around the corner waiting to bust him for cussing.

“Look, you wouldn’t understand Sam. I’m much older than y-“

“You’re not even an entire year older than me.”

“Eleven months is basically an entire ye-“

“That’s not the point!” That part was like whisper yelling. I swear it looked like he was yelling, but it sounded like he was whispering.

“Okay!” Yeah, I whisper yelled back. “Sammy, I like him… I’m sorry! I don’t even know when it happened but I woke up one day and I realized that he’s perfect! He’s funny and nice and he’s so… so… cute! Okay? He’s so cute I wanna die and I love him!”

Sam’s eyes were wide, as wide as they could be under the circumstances, and he stared at me like I’d grown another head. With a horn coming out of it.

“You love him. You realize how dumb you sound right now?”

Dumb? No no, this was serious. I pleaded with my best friend for forgiveness. And his help. “Sam… please. Don’t be mad at me, I- I don’t know, I can’t help it! That’s just how I feel, and I want him to like me back!” That’s when it hit me, I needed a wingman for this plan.

“Can you help me get him to like me back?” I gave him my best puppy dog eyes, bottom lip stuck out and everything. As if that had ever worked in the four years we’d known each other so far.

“Fuck no.” His eyes moved side to side, looking for sneaky parents again I guessed. “Definitely not. Why do you have to like my brother, dude? That’s sick, it’s like incest or something!” He stomped his feet a little, and I couldn't help but think it made him look like a child. He was a child! This was serious, grown-up shit and I didn’t have time to play games.

“Ugh, if you’re not gonna help me then at least get out of my way.” I pushed past him and headed back out of the house and into the garage. Not much had changed when I got there, but Danny must have left while Sam and I were gone. The entire couch was empty aside from Josh, still sitting cross-legged in one corner. Damn it!

I flopped into the spot that Danny had vacated, just as Sam hustled back in through the side door, arms full of sodas and bags of chips. My cheeks were warm when I looked up at him, and then they burst into flames.

“Scoot over T, I like the corner spot.”

He’s helping me! Oh shit, he’s helping me. Move your ass!!

Fumbling for a grip on reality, I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Sam’s. He lifted his brows and tilted his head in Josh’s direction. I suddenly remembered why I wasted all my days with this kid - he’s my ride or die. And now I owed him, big.

As soon as I stood to shift to the center of the couch, Sam’s elbow snuck out and made contact with my shoulder. My feet tangled with each other and, balance lost, I tumbled. Right into the arms of my beloved.

Okay okay, that’s a reach. But I did land on him. Sam had nudged me just hard enough to send me toward the opposite end of the couch and I landed ass-first on Josh’s leg, still folded and crossed under the other.

Through the mortification, I heard Sam’s distinct snickering as he placed himself gently on the other cushion. Then, through the popping of soda tabs and crinkling of chip bags, I heard the sweetest, most beautiful sound ever.

“If you wanted to sit next to me so bad, you could’ve just done it, T.”

I quite literally had to extract myself from his lap, but Josh just giggled as I clumsily moved off of him. To my extreme delight and disbelief, I didn’t make it too far. He slung an arm over my shoulders and kept me at his side. We are sharing a cushion. ALERT ALERT - OUR THIGHS ARE TOUCHING.

His hand wrapped around the ball of my shoulder and squeezed. Not once, but twice. I felt like I was gonna puke, but I risked turning my head and meeting his eyes. And he. Fucking. Smiled.

“You good, Tiny?” I should’ve laughed. We were the same exact height, I could be calling him tiny. But this wasn’t funny, because he was still smiling at me and he’d lowered his voice to speak directly to me and I felt it all the way to my toes. Somehow I managed to smile back.

“I’m good.” I was soooooo good. Even when Sam shoved a bag of Doritos at me, I was good. Because Josh reached into it and pulled a few out for himself. He reached into my lap! For chips!

Risking a sideways glance at Sam, I found him eyeballing Josh’s hand that was still resting lightly over my shoulder. I gave him my best “holy shit holy shit holy shit” expression, to which he rolled his eyes and shrugged. Before turning my attention back to the love of my life, my gaze drifted past Sam and landed on Jake. Oh, he was still here? Hadn’t noticed.

Except I was noticing. And he didn’t look pleased. He locked in and held eye contact, absolutely scowling. He was pissed. At me?! I must not have hidden my surprise well, because after a few more tense seconds of the longest eye contact we’d ever held, he blinked away and flung the guitar he’d been cradling all night over the arm of the chair.

Look, he didn’t throw it or anything. The stand was right there and the guitar landed safely, if not a little roughly, in its place. But then he tossed the open bag of Lay’s to the table, swung his legs around and stood. He caught my eye again, his hair doing that flippy thing over his eyebrows as he shook his head.

“Whatever. Night, guys.”

Just like that, he was gone. Two down, one to go. GTFO Sam!!

The next hour or so passed in a blur. Sam kept hitting the joint long after Josh and I had turned it down, and by the time he’d deposited the roach in the ashtray he could barely keep his eyes open. I watched his head fall back into the cushion and pounced on my opportunity.

Leaning away from Josh’s loving embrace (shut up, I was in heaven okay?), I slapped Sam’s chest with the back of my hand.

“Sammy… Sam!” He snorted as his head whipped up, swiped a hand over his mouth and looked at me. I was still leaning toward him, my back to Josh, and I spoke to him telepathically. Or with my eyebrows.

Get out of here right now or so help me God.

He answered verbally, like he couldn't even read my mind. “Huh?”

I withheld growling at him like an animal. “Why don’t you go to bed, man? You’re toast.” Go. NOW.

His eyes tried to focus on me, they really did, before he shook his head and tried again. “Shit. Yeah, okay. Are you… do you wanna stay on the couch tonight?”

Yes. This couch. Allll night long.

“Yeah yeah, I will, but I’m not tired yet. I’m just gonna, um, chill here for a little bit longer?” At that, I turned my head and risked a glance at Josh. Thank God I did, because he was already looking at me, and he grinned. EEEEEEEP!

“I’m not tired yet either, we can listen to some music.” I doubted I could hear music at that point, not over the blood rushing in my ears. But then, oh then, he looked up at Sam and said, “I’ll make sure she makes it to bed, I mean, the couch. Downstairs, I’ll make sure she makes it downstairs.”

“Fine, whatever.” See? He’s my ride or die. “See you in the morning, T.” And then he was gone.

We were alone.

HELLO? WE. WERE. ALONE.

Sure, I’d been alone with Josh before. I’d been hanging around his house nearly every day for four years, we’d definitely been left in a room together at some point. But not while his arm was draped loosely over my shoulders, not while our legs were touching, not while my heart was about to beat out of my chest.

But now that we were alone, I had no effing clue what to do. Then Josh stood up. My heart dropped into my stomach, but he walked over to the stacked milk crates that housed a small part of their family’s record collection and crouched to skim through them. He found something he liked and set it on the turntable, the needle bringing the crackling beginnings of a song to life.

When he turned back to face me, I thought for sure he’d sit in that ugly wingback chair. Or at the other end of the couch. Instead, he circled the coffee table and sat on the opposite side of me than he had been all night. And now his other thigh was touching mine!

I’m pretty sure my throat closed up because I had to clear it rather unattractively to speak. “What, uhh, ha, um, who is this?”

Sexy, right?

Didn’t matter, his smile took shape right in front of my eyes and all I could see was the little barely-there gap between his front teeth. I wanted to know what it felt like on my tongue. Would I be able to tell? If I kissed him right now, would I be able to feel that little discrepancy in the perfection of his teeth? I lifted my eyes to meet his and realized he’d spoken, and I’d missed it.

“Sorry, uhh… what?”

His head tilted and his eyes searched my face for… something. “Wilson Pickett. Sammy hasn’t played this for you?”

Sammy? Who is Sammy? Ohhh right, best friend.

“Um, no, I don’t think so. But maybe? There’s always music on, he’s probably played this.”

He just nodded, at first in response to my rambling and then in time with the song. When it ended, he just… looked at me, for what felt like forever but was probably only a few seconds. I was once again hyper aware of my underarms. Sweating. So I slipped the flannel off of my shoulders, keeping my forearms in the sleeves but giving me some airflow to the pits. Josh’s eyes dropped from mine and landed on the now exposed skin. Yes! Guys like shoulders!

The realization slapped me in the face, so I grabbed it and ran. I slid my arms out of the sleeves and tossed the flannel past Josh and onto the chair, thanking God that I’d worn a tank top. He gulped. Like a full-blown gulp.

Omg I’m making him nervous!!

Confidence boosted, I shifted even closer to him, until our bodies were tucked tight against each other. I’d never been this close to him, aside from that one time we’d been crammed in the back seat of his mom’s car with Sam and Jake, their sister sitting pretty in the front seat. But then I had been a scrawny kid, only thirteen (and a half) and he had been a really weird fifteen year old, not yet having grown into his features. I hadn’t wanted any part of his stinky, sweaty, farty body near me and I’d squeezed myself so close to Sam I was practically in his lap.

But on this night? This Saturday after my sixteenth birthday, I was no longer a kid. And he was no longer weird. He was beautiful, and my face was really close to his face. I could feel it when he whispered, his breath actually touched my lips.

“Wha- what are you doing, T?”

He was looking at my lips, waiting for my answer. I licked them because I was freaking parched, but he watched. And I watched him gulp, again! My tongue slipped out and wet my bottom lip a second time.

“Josh?” Whispering is sexy, it’s seductive. I was sure of it. He did it back, just my name - my actual name - lilting at the end in question.

“Do you.. wanna… kiss me?” I leaned over him, placed my left hand on his chest and felt his collar bone under my fingertips through his t-shirt. Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

I saw the panic widen his eyes, then they darted around me, looking at anything but me. It was really so cute how nervous he was. He was eighteen, for Christ sake! And I was making him nervous!

“Kiss me, Josh.” His eyes snapped back to mine, slipped down to my mouth again and then back.

And then. He. Freaking. KISSED. ME.

In a split second that felt like hours, I watched his eyes close and perfect lips pucker. My eyes stayed open at first, I didn’t want to miss this.

Leaning further into him, I settled my lips against his and slid the hand on his chest up the side of his neck (his pulse was out of control, by the way), and then cradled his jaw. My fingertips were in his hair right behind his ear. I pulled his face closer and ramped up the pressure of our lips pushed together.

He put his hands on me. I swear to God, he really did! One reached for my hip and the other came up to rest against my cheek. My eyes fluttered closed and my body took over. Not a coherent thought left in my pretty little head. Especially when our mouths separated, and then he pushed them back together.

With a mind of its own, my other hand came up and gripped his shoulder. Then my leg swung over his lap and I. Was. Straddling. Him.

It wasn’t my fault. My brain had gone haywire, my body moving on instinct. I’d quite literally never done this before. I’d kissed plenty, I even kissed Sam once (barf), but this felt different. This felt mature. Probably a little more mature than I was ready for but like I said, it was not my fault.

A lot of blame fell on Josh, a whole mountain of it, when the hand on my cheek dropped to my other hip and gripped hard, pulled me flush against him. And his lips coerced my mouth open. And the tip of his tongue swept out and touched mine.

Oh, I was in way over my head. But this was Josh, the boy I loved, and he was loving me back!

A sound I’d never made before crept up my throat. Instant embarrassment heated my already toasty cheeks and climbed up my neck, but then. Ohh then. The same freaking sound came from somewhere below me. Josh groaned. Because of me.

My animal brain completely took over. My tongue was already sliding against his, and my hips decided to follow suit. With zero finesse, they rocked into his. Just once.

He broke the kiss and dropped his head back to the cushion.

No no noooooo, you like this! You love it!

I could feel the proof that he loved it. I was sitting on it. I could see it, his chest heaving.

So I leaned forward and pressed a kiss against his throat.

“Stop, T.” His hands fell limp and landed on my thighs. My brain scrambled to catch up. Stop? Go! His fingers spread across the denim on my legs. Go go go!

But then he pushed. I leaned back to see his face, find an explanation, but his eyes were still closed as he pushed me off of his lap. Helped me swing my leg back over. Kept his hands on my thighs until they were planted back on the couch and closed. Firmly. Then they left me, and I felt their absence like a knife to the heart.

“I… wow, okay.” It’s the best I could manage to formulate, but my brain was running in overdrive.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have let that happen.” He rubbed his palms, the ones that were just holding me, over his knees then leaned forward and dropped his forehead into them.

Okay, maybe he just thinks we were moving too fast!

“Josh, it’s okay. I want this! We can just kiss, I’ll stay over here and you stay there and-“

It was so quiet, but it stopped my words on my tongue and slammed my lips shut.

“I can’t.”

Okay. Okay. Okay.

It’s because Sam’s my best friend.

It’s because I’m too young.

He thinks I’m still a kid.

Like his kid sister.

Fuck!

Anger rolled through me. “Why? Is it Sam?”

He scrubbed his hands over his face and turned to me. Looked at me, finally.

“No, I-“

“Am I too young for you? You’re not that much older, Josh and we’ve known eachother forever, it’s not that big of a de-“

“It’s not that, Tiny.” His eyes closed again.

“Don’t call me that!” He’d offended me, I was o-ffen-ded. “I’m not a little fucking kid!” Okay, I was pissed! I was a grown ass woman!

(I wasn’t.)

Both of his hands reached forward and he pulled mine towards him. Held them there. Opened his eyes. Was he gonna cry? Why are his eyes wet?! Shit, am I crying?

“It’s not you, T. It’s me.” Oh please. “I- well, I um, I like someone else.”

Back to angry! “What?! Then why the hell were you kissing me?!” What a scoundrel, what a snake, what an asshole!

“It’s not like that-“

“What the fuck is it like?!” I didn’t normally curse much at that age, but when I tell you I was mad? Hurt? Embarrassed? I couldn’t stop it from happening.

Shit, his eyes were definitely wet.

“It’s a guy.”

He whispered it, and it wasn’t sexy, it wasn’t seductive. It was sad. Scared. Defeated. I snatched my hands out of his.

There was a long silence. Uncomfortable. He stared at his empty hands and we processed.

“What did you say?” His posture shrank, like he was trying to disappear. “Josh, it’s okay. Talk to me.” It was my turn to take his hands. I held them in mine and squeezed once.

“I’m so sorry, I- I just don’t like you. Like that.” His eyes found their way back to my face, “I really like him.” They went wide and I’m pretty sure mine did too. He seemed shocked that he’d said it out loud, right before panic spread across his features again.

“Please don’t say anything, T. I haven’t- no one knows that. No one. Please.”

“No, I would never Josh, I swear. I just… why were you, ya know, kissing me?” Touching me, pulling me in. He pulled his hands away from me this time.

“I just wanted to feel normal. I wanted them to think I was normal.”

I couldn’t help it. I threw my arms around him and held on tight.

“You are.” Normal and beautiful and perfect. And not mine. A heavy sigh slipped from between my lips. “There’s nothing wrong with you.”

He stayed silent, so I did too. I kept my arms around him for a few minutes before finally letting them slip free, rubbing a palm between his shoulder blades.

“I guess I should go… Are you okay?” Look, I was not okay, but it didn’t seem like that was important anymore.

“Aren’t you gonna stay downstairs tonight?”

Definitely not. “No, I think I should go home…” Probably won’t show my face over here for a goooood long time.

“Let me walk with you.”

I did. He walked on the other side of my bike while I walked it by the handlebars. When we reached my driveway, I left the bike propped against the side of the garage and turned to him. And just like in my dreams, he moved close and pecked a kiss into my cheek. Then he pulled me into his arms.

“I’m really sorry… I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings, ya know?” His voice was soft and low, his breath tickling my ear. It should’ve been a literal dream come true.

A half step back and I rubbed my hands up and down his arms. “It’s really fine. I’m sorry for…” Humiliating us both? “Everything.”

“You don’t have to apologize. I mean it,” he emphasized when I shook my head. “Just… please don’t say anything. Even to Sam. Especially to Sam. I’m gonna tell them all when I’m ready, I think.”

Huge, massive sigh. “I won’t. I promise.”

And I never did. Not really.

[supernaturalscribe67]

Favors

Words: 6,851

Pov: 3rd Person

Pairing: Crowley x Male!Reader

Warning(s): Language, SMUT (18+), Rimming, Teasing, Male on Male penetration, brief orgasm denial, Bottom!Reader, Top!Crowley

Summary: (Y/N) is a well-known researcher and hacker in the hunting industry, dedicating his life to protecting innocent people all around the United States. What happens when the King of Hell comes to him with a problem he needs help solving and a deal that (Y/N) cannot turn down?

Request:

Hope you are having a good day/night

Omg I absolutely love the Crowley x older Winchester brother reader fic you did for me

I was wondering if I could request Crowley x Male reader smut

@xweirdo101x

A/N: I haven't written smut in so long, I hope you like it! Plus, this is my first time writing male/male smut, so feedback is really appreciated! MINORS DNI!!!!! Much Love!

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It was beautiful that morning. Light barely shone over the treeline, the warm colors faintly casting a reflection across the lake that sat outside of the small house. The ground was littered with red, orange, and yellow leaves, decorating it like some cheesy floor pattern on a Welcome Mat. The wind whipped through the branches, conducting the trees in a synchronized dance. Morning Doves sang their harmonious tune. 

It was 8:30 AM. (Y/N) sat peacefully in the rocking chair that was nestled in the corner of the aged porch. A blanket draped over his lap, and a warm cup of steaming coffee in his grasp. It was mornings like that that gave him a sense of serenity, that reminded him of the world outside of his profession. That was why, in the mornings, he had one rule. One simple rule; 

No phone calls before nine. 

Granted, lives were at stake. Hunters all across the United States were taking on various jobs as he sat there, and some needed information quicker than others. He made an exception to the rule in case of an emergency, but nothing more. Most of his life was consumed with research and phone calls while he sat in a stuffy room near the back of the house. He knew that, when his reputation in the hunting community became well-known, he would need to set some rules and boundaries to allow himself some personal time. Some time to relax and reflect. 

Not everyone followed those rules, however. 

A buzz from his phone sounded next to him. It sat on a small, rusted round table next to the rocking chair. (Y/N)’s gaze turned towards the phone as it shifted with each violent vibration across the metal. He could feel the vibrating under his feet against the wood. Across the screen, Sam Winchester was written. A heavy, yet somehow content, sigh escaped past his lips as he reached over and picked up his phone. A part of him said that he should ignore it, but the other was telling him that it could be urgent. The Winchesters rarely got in contact with him before noon. 

“Hello?” He answered, his voice deep and calm. 

“Hey, (Y/N)! Dean and I were wondering if you could look something up for us?” Sam’s voice rang through the receiver, a little too cheery first thing in the morning, in (Y/N)’s opinion. They must have been up for hours by then. 

“Is the information urgent?” 

There was a long pause. “Well…”

“Mr. Winchester, what is my rule?” 

Another long pause. “No phone calls before nine.”

“Exactly, unless there was someone actively dying and we were under a time constraint. Are we on a time constraint, Mr. Winchester?” 

“Please, call me Sam.” 

“Are we on a time constraint, Sam?” 

Pause. “No. We just wanted to get whatever information we could before we headed to the police station to talk to the officers.”

“You and I both know you’re going to gather even more evidence about the case after the fact, so I think it would be wise to just go ahead and make your way to the police station. They might answer some of your questions, they might not. Hell, you might have even more questions for me by the time you’re done.” 

“You’re right, you’re right. Uh…I guess I’ll…give you a call back when we’re done.”

“After nine, of course.” (Y/N) nodded slowly. 

“Right. After nine,” 

“Thank you, Sam. You know, I always love talking to you. You’re easier to communicate with than your brother.” 

Sam chuckled deeply. “Thanks, I get that a lot,”

“Well, it’s true. Anyway, go talk to the police, and then let me know of anything you might need, alright?” 

“Alright, bye,”

“Bye,” (Y/N) ended the phone call and replaced the phone in its original position. 

He brought the cup of coffee up to his face, blowing cool air onto the surface. Steam curled around the mug as he took a sip. There were some people he didn’t mind receiving phone calls from in the morning, during his off hours. Sam Winchester was one of them. Always so polite when he had to remind him, he almost didn’t mind having to repeat himself over and over again. He knew how stressful the physical aspect of the hunting life could be, but Sam was one who never let his anger appear evident when they conversed that early in the morning. His brother, on the other hand, seemed to hold all of the anger for both brothers on his sleeve. (Y/N) had many unpleasant conversations with the older Winchester, but he also had some satisfying ones. In the end, he didn’t mind working with the Winchesters. They were the ones that called him the most. They were the ones who kept him busy and were appreciative when he was able to give them the information that they were in search of. That much he was grateful for. 

“Hello, darling,” a scratchy, baritone voice broke the placid silence. 

(Y/N) showed no physical reaction, yet he felt as if his heart had lept into his throat. It raced rapidly and he felt the familiar sensation of gooseflesh appear on his arms. He couldn’t necessarily blame it on the cool breeze. In front of him, Crowley stood, hands deep in the pockets of his black peacoat. A smirk was placed on his lips, covered by the beard that had grown out since the last time (Y/N) saw him. 

He had met Crowley some years ago through the Winchesters. It was then he had gotten his first taste of the types of connections Sam and Dean had. When they originally told him about one of their contacts being the King of Hell, he was rather skeptical at first. Rumors travel fast in the hunting world, and (Y/N) knew all of them, especially the ones that star Sam and Dean Winchester. Yet, when he had initially met Crowley, he was pleasantly surprised. He never expected an individual with a clean, lavish appearance as he. He never expected the accent either. It had shocked him at first, but not negatively. In a way, he had always assumed that the King of Hell was going to be some grotesque monster that would seem as if they dwelled deep in a humid cave. He could blame that on his ignorance. 

Since then, the handful of times he had interactions with the King of Hell, he would not say they had been horrible. Quite the opposite, they had been fairly pleasant. Crowley was cordial towards him, speaking to him in, what (Y/N) had first assumed was, a respectful tone, but later concluded that it would be more accurate to call it professional. Crowley was charismatic, a businessman. He knew how to get what he wanted out of people, and (Y/N) could see why they fell for it each time. Crowley knew exactly what to say and when to say it. That accent of his could put anyone in a trance. 

(Y/N) sat the cup of coffee down on the side table beside his phone before he placed both of his hands in his lap, his fingers folded over one another. “Good morning, Crowley. How…unexpected of you to pop in this early in the morning.” 

“Quite,” Crowley paused as he looked around, studying his environment. “I must say, I never expected a man such as yourself to own a place with such beauty.” 

(Y/N) slowly nodded. “While I appreciate the backhanded compliment, I am currently off the clock. That is if you needed anything in the first place and didn’t just stop by for some idle chit-chat.” 

“I never ‘chit-chat’. I did come by to ask for your…assistance with something.” 

“As I have said, I am off the clock. If you need my help with anything, you can come back at nine o’clock.” 

A smirk appeared in the corner of Crowley’s mouth. “Check the time, darling,” 

(Y/N)’s eyes shifted over to his phone. Hesitantly, he reached over and clicked the screen, illuminating his background of deep purples and blues. 

9:01 A.M.

As he looked back over at Crowley, he noted that the smirk was still there. Crowley shrugged, the ruffle of fabric filling the silence. 

“It’s time to clock back in.” 

(Y/N let out a sigh as he slapped his hands onto his knees, standing from his seat. He caught the blanket before it was able to fall off and folded it thrice. He then turned and laid it over the back of the rocker. He placed his phone into his pocket, then grabbed his coffee mug, the steam having dissipated since Crowley had arrived. 

“Let’s head to my study, then,” he mumbled. 

He walked past Crowley towards the screen porch door. Before he had the chance to grab it, Crowley opened it for him, startling (Y/N) for a moment. (Y/N) nodded his head. 

“Such a gentleman.” He murmured and walked into the house, Crowley following soon after. 

The foyer was small but tidy, so it seemed bigger than it was. The new floors glimmered in the morning light, and the walls were decorated with various pieces of artwork. (Y/N) took pride in renovating the older house, making it a place he was happy to call his home. 

When he had found the house for sale, he was surprised, initially, by how little it cost. Seeing the state upon purchase made him understand the drop in price almost immediately. It took several months for him to turn the once run-down house into a livable place, one where he wasn’t afraid of catching asbestos poisoning every night. Since he completed the remodeling, he has made sure that the house is well-decorated, comfortable, and clean. 

To the right of the foyer was the entryway into the kitchen. It wasn’t that large, but with one person occupying the house, he found it unnecessary to include more counter space in the renovation. To the left was the living room, well-lit with natural light in the morning and even brighter with the overhead ceiling fan at night, comfortable enough to seat many different people if he ever decided to have guests over to mingle. Ahead of Crowley and (Y/N), down the hallway, sat three doors, all of them ajar. Directly ahead was his bedroom, to the left was the guest bathroom, and to the right was his study, the one place where (Y/N) found he was spending most of his time throughout the twenty-four hours of the day. 

(Y/N) kicked off his slides, placing them next to the front door, before replacing them with a pair of slippers. He then gestured down the hallway with his head. 

“This way,” he said as he began to walk down the hallway. 

The study was a masterpiece in it of itself. The walls directly beside the door and adjacent were lined with built-in bookshelves, courtesy of (Y/N) himself. On the shelves sat various centuries' worth of lore, categorized by decade, topic, and alphabetized by the last name of the author, if the author was known, that is. On the other wall sat large windows lined side-by-side, the curtains pulled back to allow sunlight in. Sitting at an angle in the middle of the floor was a heavy mahogany desk, similar to one that would be found in a lawyer’s or politician’s office. A rolling desk chair sat behind it, something cheap yet comfortable. On top of the desk were different books that were opened to certain pages that (Y/N) had left off on, a notebook with a ballpoint pen, an LED keyboard with a matching Bluetooth mouse, and a large, curved monitor with two smaller monitors on either side. Two chairs sat in front of the desk, a place where hunters had sat multiple times when visiting and discussing business with him. 

(Y/N) rounded the corner of the desk and sat down in the office chair, the cup still grasped between his hands. He took another sip of his coffee as he scanned over the cluttered surface of his desk. As he moved books out of the way, his tongue poked into his cheek. Finally, with a triumphant ‘ah’, he pulled the brown coaster from underneath one of the book spines. He placed his mug on top of it, bent down, and turned on his computer. 

“Alright, if you want to have a seat,” (Y/N) gestured to the chair. 

“I prefer to stand.” 

“Suit yourself,” he shrugged and typed his passcode rapidly into his keyboard. 

The three monitors lit up with work he had been focused on the day before. Carefully, he saved documents and exited out of files. When the files were all tucked away and his screens were cleared, he turned his attention back to Crowley. 

“Now, what is this problem you’re having? And, please be quick about it, I have some hunters that are going to be calling me back to gather information for them as well.” 

“The Winchesters can wait,” Crowley said as he stalked forward. 

(Y/N) fought back the urge to ask how Crowley had known the Winchesters were the ones to call, for he knew the answer already. 

“Now, I seem to be having a bit of a rogue demon problem.” Crowley began to pace around the room, his eyes seeming to study the different texts that lined the walls and the scenery outside. 

“Don’t we all?” 

“Mine’s a little different.” 

“How so?” 

“You see, I control the demons, right? Specifically, I control the deals that come in when humans summon us to the crossroads. I expect demons to persuade these people in some way to get these deals by possessing family members, friends, and the like, while others are sent when they are summoned to take these deals. It’s a rather layered process, too many demons, too many steps, but it works.” 

“I see,” (Y/N) hummed as he folded his hands on top of the desk, back slouched. 

“Recently, however, it has come to my attention that there have been several demons who don’t necessarily, well, like me.” 

“I can’t imagine why,” (Y/N) mumbled, his words dripping with sarcasm. 

Crowley ignored him. “And I’ve found out by a rather reliable source that a handful of demons have been rebelling against me. Some are just not persuading people as they are supposed to and running rampant in the street while others, the ones who are summoned, are taking these individuals' souls without giving anything in return. They mess with the deal.” 

“Do you not see that as a win in your situation? You get their soul no matter what, Crowley.” 

“Ah, you see, I do, but I am a man of my word.” He stopped and placed his hand on his chest. “When deals are made, they are not meant to be broken. They are taking their souls and sending them right back to the pathetic life that they came to fix. I don’t like humans as much as the next demon, but a deal is a deal, and it should not be messed with.”

“How…noble? What does this exactly have to do with me?” 

Crowley reached into his peacoat, pulling out a sheet of folded white paper. He walked over and placed it on (Y/N)’s desk. On it was a list of locations and dates neatly written in calligraphy. Most of the locations were paired with a date from a couple of days ago, some a couple of weeks, and some were marked from that very day.

“This is a list of all known demon locations and times that they were last seen there. The crossroads demons I can deal with on my own, they will be harder for someone like you to find, but these are the demons that were supposed to be possessing family members and the such. They’re lower-ranked demons than others, so they lack the necessary powers to teleport, makes them easier to find.” 

“And what am I supposed to do with this?” He gestured to the paper with his hands. 

“Find the demons on that computer of yours, tell me where they are, and I will take care of the rest.” 

(Y/N) slowly nodded. There had been many instances where he had been able to find the location of a monster for different hunters by hacking into various CCTV cameras across the country. Some places had more cybersecurity than others, but overall, it was a simple task, something he had picked up the first month or so after he started learning the art of hacking and coding. It wouldn’t take that long for him to track some of the demons. 

“Why should I help you?” 

“Think of it this way, darling,” Crowley walked over, stood behind the desk chair, and placed a hand on (Y/N)’s shoulder. 

The violent buzzing interrupted anything Crowley was going to say. (Y/N)’s legs vibrated in time with the buzzes. He reached into his pocket and fished out his phone. Sam Winchester flashed across the screen. He held up a finger to Crowley. 

“Hold on, I have to take this,” he said. 

Just before he was able to accept the call, however, Crowley snatched the phone from his hand. 

“Hey!” 

“Ah ah ah,” Crowley tsked and wagged a finger. “We are in the middle of a deal.” He ended the call and placed the phone in his pocket. 

(Y/N) clenched his jaw. He held out his hand. “Give it back, Crowley.” 

“Not until we finished our deal, darling,” 

“I never said we had a deal.” 

“Then it appears you’re not going to be getting your phone back.” 

“Crowley,” he growled. 

Crowley chuckled deeply, his chest rumbling. “So tense,” he smirked. “It must be hard. Being out here all by yourself. No ring on your finger, which means that you haven’t got a wife or husband. I’m guessing you don’t have a partner either, considering all you do is sit here and help other hunters.” Crowley slowly ran a finger over (Y/N)’s shoulder blades, eliciting a shiver from him. “How about this deal, then,” Crowley leaned down, his face merely inches from (Y/N)’s. “I get rid of some of your tension and you find the demons for me, deal?” 

Crowley’s breath was hot against (Y/N)’s face. The closeness caused his stomach to churn. (Y/N) wouldn’t deny that Crowley was an attractive man - demon, he corrected himself. He had thought so since the first time they met, yet he knew the dangers of getting involved with demons. That was why a small part of him was weary of the Winchesters, seeing how easily they got along with the King of Hell. ‘Got Along’ wasn’t necessarily as accurate as ‘tolerated’. He corrected himself again. When Crowley spoke with that accent, and when his voice was deep and gravelly, it was almost as if (Y/N) was hypnotized. 

That accent of his could put anyone in a trance.

“Crowley,” he breathed, unaware that his heart had begun to beat faster. 

“The demons get killed, I get what I want, and I leave you more satisfied than you have ever been before,” Crowley’s hand slowly moved up and began to trace along (Y/N)’s jawline. His fingers stopped when he got to (Y/N)’s chin. He tilted his head up so that they were looking into each other’s eyes, their noses brushing against one another. “Have we got a deal?” 

Crowley’s eyes were just as hypnotic as his voice. It was as if (Y/N) was staring into an iced glass of whiskey. It was hard to believe that, behind those eyes, stood a dark entity who controlled the deepest, darkest depths of Hell. Every fiber of his being was screaming at him, telling him that it was a bad idea, that he should retreat and reject the offer. 

(Y/N) was completely mesmerized. 

“Yes,” he whispered faintly. 

The corner of Crowley’s lips curled upward. “Then let’s kiss on it.” 

(Y/N) didn’t have a chance to respond before Crowley’s lips were on his. 

It was heated, hungry, and (Y/N) was slightly ashamed to admit that it had taken his breath away. Ashamed to admit just how engrossed in Crowley’s charismatic attitude he had been. Swiftly, (Y/N) stood from his chair and he was pressed against the desk in an instant. Crowley’s hands worked their way underneath (Y/N)’s t-shirt. It wasn’t long before Crowley’s coat and (Y/N)’s shirt were on the floor. As Crowley reached behind him to grab at the backs of his thighs, (Y/N) pressed his hands firmly on his chest. 

“Not here, not here,” he pulled back from his lips, panting from the lack of oxygen. “Let’s go to my room.” 

Crowley smirked and ran his tongue over his bottom lip. “Lead the way, darling,” he pulled back. 

(Y/N) was quick to pull himself away from the desk and turn to walk out of the room. His strides were long and silent, almost as if he was floating out of the room and towards his bedroom. Crowley followed behind him, moving just as fast if not a little bit faster. He tore off his tie and dropped it onto the floor as they entered the room. Their lips slammed into one another once more as they fell back onto the bed unceremoniously, their bodies bouncing. 

(Y/N) was incredibly hard, he felt like a teenager on prom night. He tried to think back and remember the last time he had sex. Had it been two, maybe three weeks? Months. No. Two or three years, it had been. He had lost count. Crowley had been right, he had been so absorbed in his work that he had neglected the wants he never knew he had. The needs. He had found himself to be so uptight as of late that the lack of sex hadn’t been something he considered a factor with such a change of mood. Maybe the sex was just what he needed. It seemed that Crowley knew more about him than he realized. 

(Y/N)’s primary goal was getting Crowley’s clothes off. He wanted to see him, wanted to take in every inch of him. Before he was able to grab at Crowley’s belt, however, Crowley pulled back and lifted a hand to stop him. Again, (Y/N) was breathless. He stopped and looked up at him with a questioning gaze. 

“Let’s skip the stripping, shall we?” His voice had gotten deeper, darker. His voice alone should have sent the sirens blaring and the red flags waving in (Y/N)’s head, telling him to stop, telling him that it was a bad idea, but all it did was deepen the lust and make his cock twitch in his boxers. 

With the snap of his fingers, their clothes had vanished. Immediately, (Y/N) noticed the temperature change, causing his nipples to harden into stiff peaks. He wasn’t worried about his own body, however. His attention was all on Crowley. 

He took his time to examine his lover. His eyes trailed. He noted the hair that was meticulously placed over his pecs, the curve of his stomach. Crowley didn’t have a six-pack, but he was nowhere near fat. A slight pudge was probably the best adjective to use. He spotted the tattoos almost instantly, something that came as a surprise to him but wasn’t unappreciated. Crowley’s happy trail started right below his belly button and trailed down to his pelvis, and the mere sight of Crowley’s cock made (Y/N)’s eyes go wide. 

Crowley was huge. 

Bigger than he had ever seen on a lover before. 

To say he was surprised was a massive understatement. He never expected Crowley to be sporting a cock of that size. (Y/N) felt inept next to him. Yet, despite his unbelievable length, (Y/N) felt his mouth water and cock twitch at the thought of it being inside of him. Crowley chuckled. 

“Like what you see?” He questioned. 

“Yes,” (Y/N) breathed, although he knew the question was rhetorical. 

Crowley’s chest rumbled as he leaned down and began to leave kisses down (Y/N)’s neck, down towards the valley of his pecs. He stopped at his nipples, giving each of them attention with small licks and a suckle. A gasp fell from (Y/N)’s lips as his hands occupied themselves with exploring Crowley’s body. (Y/N)’s mind was fogged over, the feeling of being that close to someone already so intense. He really did feel like a teenager. 

“You’re so beautiful, love,” Crowley purred as his lips traveled further down his body, ghosting over his stomach. “Almost disappoints me that I’m going to leave you a whimpering mess by the time I’m done.” 

“Crowley, please,” 

“Begging already, I see.” 

Crowley’s lips moved down until they reached (Y/N)’s own happy trail. Just before he reached (Y/N)’s cock, he pulled back, earning a disappointed groan from the man below. The smirk on his face told (Y/N) that Crowley loved the effect that he was having on him. That it was boosting his ego, and if he had been in the right state of mind, he would have stopped right there. The King of Hell didn’t need more of a complex than he already had. 

“Spread your legs for me.” 

(Y/N) complied, legs parting as Crowley moved onto his stomach. He left kisses on (Y/N)’s inner thighs. 

“Have you had anything in this pretty little hole recently?” Crowley asked. 

(Y/N) hesitated for a moment before shaking his head. “No,” he admitted. 

“Then I guess I’ll have to open you up, won’t I? I don’t want to hurt you.” 

It was an oddly sweet sentiment, coming from a demon. Something that a part of (Y/N) didn’t really expect. Yet the other part of him told him that it made sense with Crowley’s character. He was a businessman. He made deals and he kept them. He wanted him to feel good, and (Y/N) wouldn’t be satisfied with his part of the deal if he was in pain. 

“I have lube in my nightstand,” (Y/N) spoke up. He could feel Crowley’s hot breath hovering over his exposed hole. 

“I’ll get to it, darling,” 

Crowley’s tongue lapped at his hole, and (Y/N) swore that he would come from that single lick. He couldn’t hold back the moan as Crowley’s tongue worked around the pink muscle, almost teasing it. The tip of his tongue slipped past the ring for a moment before retreating. Crowley’s arms wrapped around both of his thighs and seemed to pull him closer with godly strength. Then, when he was closer, Crowley’s wet tongue finally slipped past the tight muscle and wiggled its way into his hole. 

A deep moan escaped past (Y/N)’s lips as one of his hands shot down and gripped Crowley’s hair. His head was thrown back in ecstasy, thankful for the pillow that was underneath him, thankful that he had decided to move to the bedroom instead of the study. He had concluded that the lack of sex didn’t make him feel like a teenager again, he was a teenager. Rather, it seemed he had a teenager’s lack of control. His cock was twitching, begging to be touched, begging for Crowley to wrap his hand around it and stroke. (Y/N) was too lost in pleasure to do it on his own, and it was just foreplay. Crowley was only preparing him for what was yet to come. If Crowley had him seeing stars already, he knew that Crowley’s prediction of him turning into a ‘whimpering mess’ would be accurate. 

Crowley’s tongue was skilled. He reached places inside of him that (Y/N) didn’t even know existed. All too soon, he felt the familiar jerk of his balls, the tensing muscles begging for release. The knot in his stomach was forming. 

“C-Crowley,” he moaned. “I’m gonna come. I-” 

Crowley hummed against him and pulled back as soon as the warning came to be. Visibly, (Y/N) relaxed, but his face expressed disappointment, much to Crowley’s amusement. 

“Already close to release, and I haven’t even touched your cock yet,” Crowley teased, and the words caused (Y/N)’s cheeks to darken with blush. “Can’t have that. I want this to last. I want you to break.” 

Crowley hovered over (Y/N) again, their noses inches apart. (Y/N) could feel Crowley’s cock brush against his, causing his cock to twitch violently. Again, Crowley chuckled. He turned his head and reached over to the nightstand, opening the small drawer. It wasn’t as cluttered as the top of (Y/N) desk, but he had to admit that it needed to be cleaned out. It didn’t take long to find the bottle of lube, though, barely used. When Crowley moved back, he kissed him. That kiss was softer, sweet, the complete opposite of the others they had shared. 

He pulled away and sat up, leaning back on his heels as he uncapped the lube. He squirted a generous amount onto his right index and middle finger before he set the lube to the side, open and ready if he were to need more. He rubbed his fingers together to spread out the liquid before lowering his hand to (Y/N) wet, needy hole. His index finger began to circle it and he saw how (Y/N)’s cock twitched again. The smirk remained on his face. 

“Are you ready?” He asked softly. 

“Yes,” (Y/N) barely gave him time to finish the question. “Yes, Crowley, please,” 

“I’ll never get over how sweet that word sounds.” 

Crowley pushed one finger into him and the stars promptly returned. (Y/N)’s mouth hung open as if he were to say something, but nothing came to mind. Words didn’t exist anymore, only Crowley and his fingers. It didn’t take long for Crowley to begin to pump his finger into him, his dark eyes focused on (Y/N)’s face, intensely taking in every reaction he gave. Sweat began to glisten on (Y/N)’s brow, dripping down the side of his face and onto the sheet below. His hands were fisted at his sides, straining the bedding. When Crowley felt his hole loosen even the slightest, he added his middle finger. 

After several seconds of having Crowley insert his second finger, the knot was back and forming inside (Y/N)’s stomach. It was tight and just kept getting tighter with each stroke. When Crowley’s fingers curled ever so slightly, (Y/N)’s body violently jerked and he had to hold onto the bed as he fought back the orgasm that was quickly approaching. He went to say something, but all that came out were moans and whimpers of pleasure. He didn’t trust himself to stop Crowley before his impending climax. 

Of course, Crowley was observant himself and knew when to back away. 

Crowley pulled his hand away from him, leaving his hole empty and his mind screaming for release. Crowley brought his fingers to his lips, wrapping them around his digits as he suckled the leftover lube and flavor off of them. He quirked a brow as he took his fingers out of his mouth. 

“Strawberry flavored?” He questioned. 

(Y/N)’s chest rose and fell at a rapid pace. His chest and face gleamed with sweat, ever more apparent because of the morning light that filtered past his blinds. 

“It was all they had left.” He was able to mutter. 

A deep chuckle rumbled within Crowley’s chest as he grabbed the lube from beside him once again. That time, he put some into the palm of his right hand and capped the bottle, setting it back onto the side table. He wrapped his hand around his cock and lathered it up with the lube. He hissed, jaw clenched at the cool temperature. 

“You don’t mind raw, do you, darling?” He asked as he shifted in the bed so that he hovered directly above (Y/N) writhing body. 

“No,” (Y/N) was quick to respond. “No, I don’t mind just, please, please Crowley.” His desperate cries would have normally made him embarrassed, ashamed of the mess he had turned into, but he couldn’t care less. His brain didn’t belong to him anymore. It belonged to Crowley. His body wasn’t his, it was Crowley’s. All of him belonged to Crowley. 

And he was fine with that. 

“I’ll go slow,” Crowley said. “Let me know if it’s too much for you to handle.” 

It was too much to handle when Crowley was eating him out, but (Y/N) knew what he meant. He gave a quick nod of understanding. His hands immediately moved from the sheets to Crowley. One hand was placed on Crowley’s shoulder, while the other reached back, fingers entangled in the mess of brown hair. 

One of Crowley’s hands was placed on the bed, holding himself up, while the other hand reached down and grabbed his cock. He guided it to (Y/N)’s hole and, when he felt comfortable with the positioning, he moved his hand and placed it on the other side of (Y/N)’s body. Slowly, he moved his hips forward, the head of his cock pushing past the ring of muscle with some resistance before he entered him. 

(Y/N) wasn’t seeing stars anymore - he was seeing a whole galaxy. The slight painful strain mixed with bliss as Crowley pushed the head of his cock inside of him was almost too much to bear at first. He felt like his balls were going to explode with pleasure. His nails dug into Crowley’s shoulder and scalp as he continued to inch his way inside. Crowley studied (Y/N)’s face, the way his mouth hung open and eyes closed. When half of his cock was engulfed in his warmth, Crowley pulled back out a couple of inches before he thrust back inside. (Y/N) couldn’t stop the sounds from escaping his lips. Equally, as such, Crowley let out a deep, guttural groan. 

“So tight, darling. So…fucking tight,” he growled out, sounding almost feral. 

“M-More, Crowley, please, more,” (Y/N)’s voice had gone up in pitch and the need was laced throughout his tone. 

Crowley didn’t need any more indication. His hips began to pick up in speed, slowly at first, but after a while of making sure that his lover wasn’t in any pain, he went faster. While (Y/N) wasn’t able to take all of Crowley’s length inside of him, what was able to fit resulted in a cacophony of moans that echoed throughout the room. The bed rocked, the frame squeaking underneath the pressure as Crowley rhythmically snapped his hips. 

When (Y/N) had gotten used to the pleasure - ‘used to’ wasn’t the right phrasing, but rather adapted to it - he was able to open his eyes long enough to reach up, cup Crowley’s cheeks, and bring himself up to kiss him roughly. Crowley returned the kiss. Their tongues danced with each other. (Y/N) could taste a mixture of himself and the strawberry-flavored lube on Crowley’s tongue. 

Each thrust brought a new wave of pleasure, Crowley’s cock brushing against his prostate. (Y/N)’s cock and balls jerked and he knew that he wasn’t going to last much longer. He pulled away, one of his hands falling to Crowley’s chest, which was equally as sweat-covered as his. It was difficult to find the strength to speak, at first, but he mustered up what little control of himself he had to do so.  

“Crowley,” he moaned. “I’m gonna come. Please, can I come?” 

“Not yet,” Crowley sounded breathless. “I want to come with you.” 

“Want you to come inside me.” 

“Are you sure?” 

“Yes!” He moaned loudly as Crowley’s cock stroked his prostate again. 

Crowley growled as his lips dove down towards (Y/N)’s neck, littering it with small kisses, teeth scraping over his skin. 

“I can’t wait to fill you up. Can’t wait to make you mine,” Crowley growled. 

(Y/N) did everything in his power to hold back his orgasm, the one thing he had been trying to reach all this time. It became harder and harder the more they went on. Finally, he felt Crowley’s thrusts start to sputter, and Crowley’s grunts and moans were getting higher in pitch. Crowley reached between their bodies, his hand finding (Y/N)’s cock and he began to stroke it in time with his thrusts. 

“Come.” 

And that was all the permission he needed. (Y/N) came hard, cock spasming violently in Crowley’s hand and balls convulsing as he shot his load onto his and Crowley’s chests and stomachs. Planets, stars, galaxies, universes, it was almost as if (Y/N) was lost in time and space itself. If he didn’t know any better, he swore he would have passed out from the pleasure had it not been for Crowley keeping him grounded. 

Following his orgasm, he felt Crowley still inside of him and, soon, felt the warm sensation of his load deep within his hole. They stayed there, interlocked with one another, their bodies completely frozen in time. What felt like ages later, Crowley slowly pulled out of him, a wet pop echoing throughout the room, before he collapsed beside him on the bed. (Y/N)’s arms fell beside him, his chest moving rapidly as he struggled to regain his composure. 

As he lay there, post-orgasmic clarity set in. 

He had fucked the King of Hell. 

More importantly, he had fucked the King of Hell and liked it. 

God, he was such a terrible hunter. 

His eyes trailed over to Crowley, who was still recovering from his own orgasm. He could see faint, red scratch marks across his face, chest, and right shoulder. (Y/N) didn’t even realize his nails had dug into him until then. Crowley turned his head towards him. 

“Well you weren’t the whimpering mess that I assumed you would be,” Crowley began. “But I’ll take begging any day.” 

(Y/N) couldn’t help but roll his eyes and he had found the strength to speak to be gone by that point. What was he even supposed to say to him? Thanks for the sex, I’ll go find your demons now? With one-night stands, he would always just get up, grab his clothes, and walk out of the motel room, but this was a little different. He was in his own home. Was he just supposed to kick Crowley out? That would seem a bit rude, wouldn’t it? 

“Care for a cuddle?” Crowley’s words broke his train of thought.

“A what?” His voice had returned. 

“A cuddle.” 

(Y/N) snorted. “The King of Hell wants to cuddle.” He said it more like a statement rather than a question.

“I take care of my lovers, (Y/N). Aftercare is just as important as foreplay.” 

(Y/N) opened his mouth to speak, but found, again, that the words were lost to him. He just gave a simple nod and the two of them moved closer together. Crowley wrapped an arm underneath his shoulders and over his waist, pulling their naked bodies close. (Y/N) placed one of his hands on Crowley’s torso, his head lying against his chest. A part of him was expecting to hear a heartbeat echo in his ear, but the lack thereof only reminded him of his sins. They sat in silence for a while, embracing one another. Crowley’s hand slowly rubbed (Y/N)’s hips, and it made him realize just how sore he was going to be for a while. 

He didn’t care. 

“You know,” Crowley finally spoke up. “If you ever become too tense, you can always give me a call. I have no problem giving in to your needs.” 

“I’m not that desperate,” (Y/N) mumbled. 

Crowley chuckled, and (Y/N) could feel the vibration against his fingertips and cheek. “I beg to differ, darling, with the way you were just begging for release.” 

(Y/N)’s cheeks heated up. He knew what he had done was wrong, but whoever said that hunters had to be perfect? Or right, for that matter. No one had gotten hurt - maybe he would hurt for a while after this, but that was beside the point - and demons were going to be hunted down as a result of their deal. Crowley wasn’t a selfish lover, quite the contrary. He was the best that (Y/N) ever had. He was only human. Despite the moral aspect of it all, perhaps it wouldn’t be such a bad thing to have someone like Crowley just a call away. 

For his needs. 

“I’ll keep that in mind.” 

[dw19791967]

That Type of Girl Part 4

Pairing: Dean x reader (Eventual), Sam x reader (Platonic)

Warnings: language, unrequited love, angst, mentions of torture, mentions of self-hate, fluff.

This is the fourth fic I have ever written, all mistakes are my own. Please be gentle on me!

____________________________

Dean's POV:

“Where the hell is she Sam?” I was pissed. Why the hell would she open the door without us being here.

“I’m not sure man, I’m looking. I promise we will find her.” Sam was searching on his laptop.

“I think it’s that Rick dude she mentioned, I mean she knew something was up with him. I don’t understand why she would be so stupid.” I can’t lose her. She is my best friend.

“Looks like there are two possibilities for where he would take her, he must have smashed her phone because I can’t pick up a GPS signal.” Sam looked at me.

“Where was the last location ping?” I looked at Sam’s screen.

“There, it’s that one.” I pointed to the closet location. Close to where her phone pinged. “Let’s go get my girl.”

_________________

Y/N's POV:

God, I can’t wait for the ass chewing the boys are gonna give me. Anything is better than listening to Rick whine and groan about how much he hates women. It’s been about five hours since he took me. He has sliced me more than a Christmas ham. I guess better me than some other helpless woman.

“Wondering when your saviors will come, sweet Y/N?” Rick started working his way towards me again.

“Actually I was wondering something about you. Why is it you pick women to prey on, hmm? Worried a big strong man would be able to see through your BS?” I smirked at Rick.

“You know you are one annoying bitch, Jesus how do the Winchesters put up with you?” 

Rick smacked me across the face. Hard enough to make my mouth bleed.

“What can I say, I am a joy to be around.” I pray the boys are close.

Rick starts to come close to my face. “As soon as your big giants get here, we can really get this party started. That is if they come to save your fatass.” 

I spit blood in his face. “Aw thank you for the compliment, I actually don’t think I have much of an ass but if you do, well it must be true.” I smiled at him.

“You bitch, you are so dead!” Rick lunged towards me. I am exhausted, I can’t even keep my eyes open at this point. Guess this is the end.

“Hey asshole!” Dean rushed into the building.

“Well, looky here sweet Y/N. It looks like they came to save you after all.” Rick walked towards Dean.

“You know, I have been more annoyed in the last five hours than I think I have been my whole life. I give you props for not kicking her to the curb. Why don’t I do you and your idiot brother a favor and kill her now?” 

“Listen, Rick is it? I don’t know what the hell your problem is and frankly I don’t give a damn. What do you say I do you a favor and kill you quickly?”

Rick glared at Dean.

“Well, suit yourself I guess. We will do this the hard way.” Dean smirked.

_______________________

The next thing I know I am waking up in the backseat of baby. 

“Hey Y/N we are almost back to the motel, then we will get you patched up alright?” Sam looked over the front seat at me.

I turned over and closed my eyes, sleep seemed like the best idea right now.

I felt the car park. I opened my eyes to see the driver door slam. Great Dean’s pissed, just what I need tonight.

“He’s pissed right?” I asked Sam.

“He was just worried about you, we both were Y/N.” Sam pats my hand.

Once inside the room I sat down at the table. Dean glared at me from his side of the bed.

“I will let Dean patch you up, I’ll go grab us something to eat. Burgers ok?” Sam looked at me.

“Yeah that is fine, thanks Sam.” I gave him a slight smile to show that I am ok.

With Sam gone the room filled with awkward silence. I hate having Dean mad at me.

“You know it was incredibly stupid for you to open the door without back up right?” Dean moved towards me.

“I know Dean.” I sighed. I hope he makes this ass chewing fast.

“What would have happened if me and Sammy didn’t make it there in time Y/N? Do you know how that would have mad us feel?!” Dean is radiating anger. He was pacing the room.

“I know Dean, I’m sorry I really am. I thought it was you or Sammy at the door. I promise I wouldn’t have opened it, if I knew it was him.” I started to cry. If I cried it meant one of three things. I was really really happy, I was angry, or I was sad. It is a mixture of two and three right now.

“I know I am an idiot and I should have been more careful, I promise I will try to be better.” I looked at Dean with tears in my eyes. I hated disappointing him.

Dean sighed. “Look sweetheart, I care about you a lot, I just don’t want to think about if something bad happened to you and I wasn’t there to stop it.”

“I know Dean, I am really freaking sorry.” I moved my leg towards him and winched. Damn the cuts are starting to hurt.

“How about you take a shower and I will get you stitched up?” Dean moved to help me stand.

“Ok.” I made my way slowly to the bathroom. Once inside I started the shower. Dean made sure I made it ok. 

“I’m gonna set the stuff up, I’ll lay your pj’s on the sink for you. Holler if you need me.” Dean looked at me. His eyes can usually tell me what he is thinking. Right now, it looks like they are full of worry.

“I will, promise.” While in the shower, I mentally prepare myself for Dean to stitch me up. I usually liked Sam doing it because I knew he wouldn’t judge my body and not that I think Dean will, I just don’t want him to see the whole me. Of course Dean had seen bits and pieces but not the whole thing and definitely not a lot at once. Dear Lord, please let this get over quickly.

I made my way out of the bathroom. Dean had left my favorite oversized shirt and pair of my boy short underwear on the sink for me. Ever since we decided to split laundry duty this is something I have gotten to be ok with him seeing. I had my hair up in a bun. I needed it out of my face.

“Where are the cuts at?” Dean had me sit down at the table. 

“Mainly my thighs, hips, and chest.” I sighed. This is worse than Rick torturing me. 

“Ok, let’s start with your legs first hmm?” Dean got on his knees to work. “Tell me if I’m hurting you.”

The needle went through my skin. This was nothing compared to the damage Rick had already done.

“You ok?” He looked at me with concern in his eyes.

“I’m fine.” I gave him a small smile.

“You know your freakishly strong pain tolerance is coming in handy right about now huh?” He grinned.

“Yeah I know. I’m so blessed.” I giggled.

He worked on my thighs and hips for about twenty minutes. I looked at the fresh stitches across both of my legs. I am really gonna impress the boys now huh.

“Ok, now for your chest. How do you want to do this?” He looked at me again, eyes full of worry.

I knew he was worried about making me uncomfortable. But honestly I am so exhausted at this point I just want to get this over with. He has already seen dozens of stretch marks and cellulite across my thighs. 

“How about I take my shirt off and cover the girls and you can stitch?” I looked at him. I am praying he will not be grossed out. This is a line I thought we would never have to cross.

“Sounds good sweetheart, I’ll turn around while you do what you need to do.” He is a gentleman after all.

I covered my boobs and stomach the best I could. “Ok, ready.” I closed my eyes.

Dean got to work. These ones didn’t take as long. Thankfully Rick was interrupted before he could keep going. 

“Alright, all done.” He finished covering the big cut with a bandage. 

I opened my eyes. “Thanks Dean.” 

“No problem sweetheart.” He winked at me.

Damn him why does he always do that.

I blushed.

“You know I love you right Y/N?” Dean moved to put the supplies away.

“Of course Dean, I love you too.” I was still holding my shirt over my boobs and stomach. 

“I don’t know what all Rick said to you but I want you to know I think you are beautiful and perfect the way you are.” Dean looked at me, except this time his eyes lacked worry. No this time, it almost looked like he was happy.

“Well thank you.” I blushed again. Why is he saying these things? Surely he is bullshiting me.

“I know you may not believe me and that’s ok. But I really do mean it.” Dean made his way to me.

“Dean, I appreciate you saying it. Rick did make some comments but that’s ok, he’s a demon and I don’t really give a ratsass what he thinks and now he’s dead.” I looked at him.

“I know you don’t always think highly of yourself, but you are an amazing person. I don’t know what I would do without you.” Dean brushed his hand against my shoulder. 

What is happening? Why is he being all mushy? I am so confused. 

“I know Dean, I feel the same way.” I looked at him again.

“No, I’m not sure if you do sweetheart. You see, the thing is, I’m pretty sure I am in love with you.” Dean looked me in the eyes now.

Oh shit, what in the hell is happening?!

________________________________

Tag List:

@hazel-eye-coffee-shop-girl-blog

@deanspinsterwitchs-readinglist

@pandasrdbest2341

[thelordofgifs]

Obscure Tolkien Blorbo: Round 4

A fox passing through the woods on business of his own vs Eldacar of Gondor

A fox passing through the woods on business of his own:

A fox who found Frodo, Sam and Pippin asleep under a tree and was puzzled by this.

Yeah sure why NOT switch PoV to a (arguably) non-sentient creature for like a paragraph with no bearing on the actual plot besides the comment that it never realized that the plot was happening??

It shows up for one page for no reason.  It's great.

Listen, that fox is absolutely a borbo. Confused? Funny? Has enough to be memorable but little enough to write a shitload of fanfiction about? Someone I have actually written about? Twice? (they aren't on ao3 though) clear boorbo

Look, people have observed before, correctly, that one of the things that sets The Lord of the Rings apart is that Tolkien will tell us things about the well-being of minor characters, like that the hobbits’ ponies that they lost in Bree were okay and went to live with Tom Bombadil. Tolkien is the kind of writer who will switch the POV to a fox who happens to pass by the hobbits on the first night of their journey to Rivendell, because the story isn’t just about the main characters, nor is it just about the endurance of realms like Rohan and Gondor. It’s about every living thing in Middle-earth, and for Frodo it’s especially about the Shire, the home of simplicity and good food and community and gardens and foxes. That’s what he takes up the Ring to save, and the fact that he takes it up with that motivation, not personal greatness or heroism, is what enables him to get as far as Mount Doom. Gandalf lays this idea out to Denethor when Denethor claims the fate of Gondor as a goal above all else: “For my part, I shall not wholly fail of my task, though Gondor should perish, if anything passes through this night that can still grow fair or bear fruit and flower again in days to come.” The Quest of the Ring is not simply about Men and Elves and Hobbits; it is about ponies, and the trees of Fangorn, and tiny sun-star flowers in the grass, and yes, a fox on business of his own who never finds out anything more about the three hobbits he once saw sleeping under a tree, but lives and thrives because of what they did.

Eldacar of Gondor:

The twenty-first King of Gondor, also known as Vinitharya. During his reign the conflict known as the Kin-strife occurred and he was forced from his throne for ten years.

The blorbo of all time actually. He’s the protagonist of one of the most interesting stories in the LoTR appendices, the Kin-strife, and everything about his life story is so fascinating! His father was the crown prince of Gondor and his mother was the princess of Rhovanion so not a Númenorean. As a result all the racist nobles of Gondor made noises about how Eldacar was of “lesser race” and wouldn’t live as long as a “true Dúnadan”. One of the most fascinating examples of fantasy racism in Tolkien’s works imo – the bigotry is awful but the bigots have a shield to hide behind! Obviously their concerns are actually valid because they just don’t want their king to die young! (Their concerns aren’t valid. But I think the worldbuilding here is great.) Anyway Eldacar was born in Rhovanion and given the birth-name Vinitharya, but when he returned to Gondor aged five he was obliged to take up the Quenya name Eldacar, presumably to pacify all the racists in Gondor. He’s the EMBODIMENT of mixed-race/immigrant child trauma my beloved. Eventually his father died and he ascended to the throne of Gondor, but then his shitty second cousin Castamir (all my homies hate Castamir he’s the worst) started the civil war known as the Kin-strife and usurped Eldacar’s throne. Eldacar was forced to flee north to Rhovanion but Castamir captured his eldest son Ornendil and had him cruelly put to death which is SO SAD. But Eldacar, being brave and resourceful and clever and extremely cool, put together an alliance with his mother’s kinsfolk in Rhovanion and after ten years reclaimed his throne, which turned out to be slightly easier than expected because Castamir was The Worst and all his subjects hated him. And Eldacar PERSONALLY fought and killed Castamir HIMSELF and AVENGED HIS SON which is extremely important when you consider all the cringefail elves in the legendarium whose quests for revenge didn’t really go anywhere at all. Then he lived to be 235 proving that all the idiot racists who were worried about his lifespan didn’t have any idea what they were talking about, as is par for the course with racists. Also the Kin-strife itself has such far-reaching consequences for the history of Gondor! The Corsairs of Umbar, Gondor’s long-standing enemies, are actually followers of the descendants of Castamir. And during the Usurpation of Castamir Osgiliath was sacked and burned, leading to the beginning of its decline as Gondor’s greatest city. Even though Eldacar’s story is, to me, ultimately hopeful, it’s also such a fascinating turning point in the history of Gondor. Also ALSO he’s explicitly surrounded by textual ghosts which is really fascinating. His father Valacar has “children” plural – so Eldacar had siblings!! What were they like? How did they react to it all? And his son Aldamir is described as Eldacar’s second son and third child, meaning that he had a daughter too. Who was she?? What happened to her? He’s such a blorbo and there’s so much interesting stuff to dig into around him and he has to win this entire tournament please please please❤️

Round 4 masterpost

[siancore]

Second part to this fic.

A/N: This is from Bucky’s POV and takes place in the 1940s while Bucky is at war. Written in the form of V-Mail letters from Bucky to Steve. He wants to tell his best friend about meeting Sam and being smitten, but V-Mail was read and censored by military postal workers. Bucky could be dishonourably discharged and receive a court martial for being homosexual in the army. LGBT+ soldiers were given ‘blue tickets’ to discharge them from service because their ‘character was deemed undesirable’ — around 9,000 soldiers received a blue discharge during war times in the 40s. I hope this gives context to his correspondence. Thanks so much for continuing this journey with me. Enjoy!

Dear Steve,

They said these letters would get to their destination quicker and without much fuss. Better than regular old mail. I hope this finds you well. Hope you’re keeping out of trouble. It’s cold over here, but I don’t want to waste time talking about the weather. Stevie, I’m smitten, Pal. Just my luck to meet the sweetest Buttercup before I had to ship out. My Sweetheart has the prettiest brown eyes I ever did see, and a smile that’s as bright as the sun. Why can’t this world be a better place? Why can’t me and my Sweetheart settle down somewhere and live a nice life? I know there’s a war to be won, and things ain’t as simple as I would like them to be, but sometimes I just want something for myself. Sorry for going on and on. I’m maybe a little homesick. I wish you got to meet my Sweetheart before I left. You two would get on real swell. I miss you, buddy. Take care of yourself.

Yours truly,

J B Barnes.

Dear Steve,

I hope this letter finds you well and happy. Thank you for sending a letter back. I hope you had a nice time at dinner with my folks. My Ma sure does love feeding you. Thinks you’re too skinny, and I think she might be right.

We’re shipping out to the front in Italy tomorrow. My Ma is worried, and she has every right to be. From what the other fellows have said, we’re likely to see combat action real soon. Truth be told, I will be happy to join the fight. As you know, I’m not good sitting on my hands.

How is it being the most eligible bachelor in New York, New York? I bet the dames are lined up around the block for you. Just be yourself, Pal. You will find that special someone. I’m lucky to have found my Buttercup. Wish I had an address to write my Sweetheart. I only know the name of the locality: Delacroix, Louisiana. V-Mail must reach down South. All of the Southern boys are writing to their loved ones. I should at least try, don’t you think? I’m endlessly charmed by a Southern Beauty. Like I said before, Buddy: I am smitten. You will grow tired of my ramblings I’m sure.

Take good care of yourself. I’ll write again when we arrive.

Your Pal,

J B Barnes.

Dear Steve,

Thank you for the drawing pencils. I’ve been using them while waiting for directives. I’m sorry for not writing sooner. Camp life is tough. Feels like the rain ain’t stopped since we put boots on the ground. Some of the fellows in the 107th have fought some skirmishes, I am still waiting to see action. I know you said you found a way to be of service, I just want you to promise me you will be smart about it. Every little bit helps our cause, I just want you to be safe. I am proud of you no matter what you do. You have a good heart, my friend.

I appreciate your encouragement. I thought about writing my Buttercup, but I don’t think that would be a good idea. Different sensibilities down South, you see. My Sweetheart’s folks probably would not appreciate letters from a sergeant in our armed forces sending unsolicited letters to their unwed offspring. It is a different world in the Southern states I’ve been told, and I don’t want to cause my Sweetheart any grief. Dreams of pretty brown eyes and sunshine smiles will have to sustain me for now. At least I can write you and go on and on about my heart’s yearnings for a certain Southern Beauty. You are a good friend to me, Stevie. Thank you for never judging me. I will write again soon. Give my Ma a cuddle from me when you see her next.

Your friend and brother,

J B Barnes

Dear Steve,

Thank you for TWO letters and drawings. Your comic renditions made me smile. I’m sorry for the long wait in between letters. I have finally seen combat action. I am well. Did not get hurt. My Ma was so worried. Rebecca wrote me as well. All of your letters make me less homesick. It’s a different world over here, but I will not waste time retelling the horrors I’ve seen.

I hope your mission is going well. I am proud of you. I hope your date book is full and you are having a marvellous time.

My heart feels heavy. Would it be such a terrible thing for me to write my Sweetheart? Maybe my Sweetheart’s parents wouldn’t mind a soldier writing to their unwed s — child. I don’t want to cause a stir. I wish I at least had a photograph, though I probably don’t need one. My dreams are filled with brown eyes and high cheekbones. Pretty smiles and soft skin. You must think I’m a love struck fool, Stevie. HaHa! Maybe I am. But when two people have a connection like me and my Buttercup do, it reaches beyond the borders of nations. It stretches through time. I don’t have words to explain. Just know that your best friend is love sick and not any less of a man for admitting so.

I don’t know when I’ll be able to write again. Be sure to keep up with your medicines and treatments. Be safe and well.

Your Friend,

J B Barnes

P.S. Maybe when I return home, you might draw a rendition of my Sweetheart for me. I will pay you all of my hard earned money.

Dear Stevie,

I had to write this soon after my last letter, so you will probably get them around the same time.

I got new directives. We’re in the fight now. I just wanted to let you know not to worry too much about me if you don’t hear from me soon. I’ll be busy doing my part.

I won’t win the war until you get here, Pal. That’s a promise.

Signing off for now.

Your Brother in Arms,

Bucky Barnes

[impala1967dwinchester]

Sam Winchester: Stunned

Pairing: Sam Winchester X Fem!Reader

Pov: Sam

Warnings: fluffy, a little bit of bunker drama, clueless reader, lovey-dove relationship.

Summary: When she comes out of Sams room with only his boxers and bra on. It takes some people by surprise.

Word Count: 734

A/n- Firefly-graphics for dividers. Written for anon, thank you for the requests.

Main Master List // Sam Winchester Master List // Requests Master List

She looked so beautiful when she was comfy and sleeping in bed next to me. She snored lightly as she gripped tightly onto her pillow. The past few nights she had slept here alone. Dean and I had just got back from a hunt, and being apart from each other always hit Y/n hard.

We had gotten home last night so late that Y/n was already asleep in our bed. Her form takes up most of the bed, and the sheets. Dragging pillows and blankets in an effort to make a shape close to my own. An old t-shirt of my mine was placed over my pillow, and she looked so peaceful as she snored away in her sleep.

I was quick to get showered, and into fresh clean clothes. When I did finally fall into bed with Y/n she was automatically at my side, cuddling herself as close as she could get me. "shh, go to sleep, babe. I'll be here in the morning." I hummed into her hairline. I was able to fall asleep quickly to the sound of her breathing and her heartbeat pressed against my own.

The next morning I woke up early. Getting a run, and a breakfast run in before returning back to the bunker. Jack and Cass along with Dean were sitting at the map table. Dean looked like shit, as Jack talk the ear off of him.

"Heya guys, I got some breakfast," I said happily as I dropped the bag to the map room table. "Bacon?" That was Dean's only question. I laughed. "Yeah, bacon with extra grease. along with those good pancakes from that dinner in town." Sliding the to-go box in his direction.

I left the three of them at the table and went to check on Y/n. When I opened the door, she was still asleep. The sheets were more of a mess, and I could see the peak of her ass from under the sheets. But her breath was steady, and she didn't stir as I closed the door shut behind me.

Whatever time it was it was still very early in the morning. Seeing as Jack and Cass never needed sleep the time was only given away by the fact that Dean was up. "Thanks, Sammy for the breakfast. I'll say it's nice to be back in Kansas." Dean mumbled as he shoved more food into his mouth.

Jack was staring at me with such wonder. "I do not understand Castiel? Why is food such a big part of their lives?" Jack asked Castiel. Castiel had once been a human and understood the reasons why but felt it best to not tell that story so early in the morning. So with that, a shrug of his shoulders was the only response he gave to Jack.

It was nearly another two hours before we all heard the commotion in the kitchen. We had moved to see if we could find another close by the hunt, so that meant moving into the library.

From my spot at the library chair, I could see Y/n. Her tanned legs, and bare stomach. I thought for a moment and closed my eyes, going back to the night before. I memorized her skin and the way she felt up against me as I fell asleep last night.

I was only brought out of my dream when I heard the padding of soft feet gets closer to me. When I opened my eyes Y/n was standing at the doorway between both the library and the kitchen. Sporting nothing but an old bra of hers, and a pair of my boxers. Dean had a look of shock on his face, and well the angels that sat next to me were staring at my girlfriend with wonder. "What's wrong guys?" She asked in a soft morning voice. Everyone swallowed before answering all at once.

"Nothing baby, but wondering what you're doing out of bed?" I asked through the thick silence that befell the room. "Oh, I was just getting a glass of water." With that, she yawned and walked around to kiss my head gently and then went back to our bedroom.

"Dude..." Dean went on to say. "Don't you even," I warned as I closed my men of letters books. With that, I followed closely behind my beautiful girlfriend, as I watched her hips sway in my boxers.

Completed on: 03/21/2023

Posted on: 03/21/2023

Stanford Tag List: @kazsrm67 @dilfloverr @wonderfulworldofwinchester @band--psycho @ijustlearnedtolove-beep-bop-boop @flamencodiva @stoneyggirl2 @samsgirl93

[pxrplebxtterfly]

Yes Father (2/2)

gifs belong to me

18+

Pairings: Sam Winchester’s alias Father Frehley x fem reader

Warnings: SMUT, priest kink?, mentions of religion, alcohol use, spanking, fingering, blowjob.

Summary: Father Frehley shows up in your town and the two of you share a nightcap.

Word count: 4.5k

Notes: This fic was written in a FIRST PERSON POV!!! This is part of a two-part fic about Sam’s alias Father Frehley. This second part takes place during season 12, episode 4: American Nightmare, ten years later. Although Sam goes by Father DiNero in the episode, the narrator still knows him as Father Frehley. Also, so sorry for taking forever to put this out, I’m working full time this summer so it’s been hard to make time to write. This 2nd part might be less cohesive and consistent due to my inability to write all the time. Thanks for being patient and I hope you enjoy!!!

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀

It’s been ten years. It’s been ten years since I’ve seen Father Frehley. Until now. There he is walking out of the church on my block with the same priest he was with before. This is not what I expected when I decided to take a walk this morning.

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀

I moved to the midwest after finishing college for a job. I also wanted to get out of my small town in the deeply religious south. After my experience with Father Frehley, one thing led to another and I started to transition out of the church.

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀

That’s how I ended up here, in my new town, in front of him once again.

He sees me, standing on the sidewalk across the street, shock on my face. I see him too. He’s even taller than I remember. His hair is longer and his face more chiseled.

He’s ten years older, so am I.

He’s equally as shocked, the chances of encountering each other again are impossibly low. Yet, here he is, walking across the street towards me, a smirk plastered on his face.

“Father Frehley?” I say once he’s close enough to where I don’t need to raise my voice. He steps up onto the sidewalk in front of me, his hands in his pockets.

“Hi, it’s good to see you. What are you doing in Iowa?” he greets with a smile.

I’m in a trance seeing him again.

“I live here, what are you doing here?” I ask, shaking my head in disbelief.

“Visiting friends,” he looks back at the church, “how long’s it been?”

“Ten years I think,” I say blushing when I’m reminded of the last time we were together.

“Wow, well you haven’t aged at all” he gestures to me, a twinkle in his eyes.

His jaw is covered in stubble, aging him. He looks more mature and grown.

“Thank you” I say and blush again, as I see the way he looks at me.

He still has that same lust and desire in him, like he had when we first met. I can feel it.

“Father!” Father Simmons calls to him from their car.

Apparently he doesn’t recognize me, though I don’t judge him for that.

“I’ve got to go, but it was nice seeing you again. Let me know if you want to get together while I’m still in town!” he says softly, looking down at me.

I say goodbye and watch as the handsome priest saunters back to the other side of the road.

I hate myself for my horny thoughts: that he’s only gotten sexier.

❀𖤣𖥧𖡼⊱✿⊰𖡼𖥧𖤣❀

It’s 10:30. I shouldn’t be calling him but I’ve found myself distracted the whole day after running into him this morning. I can’t stop thinking about the way he corrupted me, and how he taught me so gently. My skin burns, daydreaming about his massive physique and probing eyes.

The last time we did this, I knew nothing. Now I know that what he did was not the way things usually go.

However, I don’t hold any resentment towards him or feel like what he did was wrong. In fact, it’s always turned me on, knowing that this young, hot, kind, priest strayed from his religious upholdings to teach and please me.

It’s something I fantasize and think about often; the kinky sort of thing that makes most people raise an eyebrow with confusion.

For me, it’s an eyebrow of intrigue.

I ransack my jewelry box on the dresser looking for the stack of cards with numbers on them, I’ve accumulated from men over the years. When I find it, I untie the rubber band holding the cards in place, and take the card from the very bottom.

It’s his. The number on it might not even be his anymore but it’s worth a shot.

I pick up my cell phone and punch the number in. I press call and hold the phone up to my ear. The line rings three times, and I hold my breath the whole time. After the third ring, the line clicks and I hear a “Hello?”

“Hi, is this Father Frehley?” I ask nervously.

“Uh, yeah it is, can I help you?”

I breathe out, shakey just from hearing his voice.

“I hope so. You told me to let you know if I wanted to get together and well, I do right now if you’re not busy” I bite my lip, hoping he can tell it’s me.

“I thought it might’ve been you,” he chuckles softly.

“Are you up for a nightcap?” I ask. There’s a pause and then I hear his laugh start again.

“You know what, as a matter of fact I could use a drink. What’d you have?”

“Whiskey, bourbon, scotch… Any of those sound good?”

“Send me your address, I’ll be right over” he says, his mind made up already.

We end the phone call and I text him my address. In anticipation, I set out all my best liquor and daydream about the things he might do to me once he comes over.

Within minutes of calling him, the Chevy Impala pulls up outside my front window. I hide behind my curtains and watch as he walks up to my front door. My heart is racing, watching him take long strides up my sidewalk, in the dim porch light.

He knocks on the door and I take a deep breath to settle my nerves. I act like I wasn’t just watching him and take a second to answer.

When I open the door, there he is. My body tenses seeing him and I’m almost overcome with excitement.

He stands there smirking down at me, thrilled at my desperation. He’s still wearing a black suit and white roman collar like he’s just been to mass. My body is overrun by attraction and I can feel my core jump as I step aside and let him in.

“So, you said you have whiskey” he says as I close the front door behind him.

“I do, it’s in the kitchen, you can follow me” I say, and walk in front of him, down the hallway to the kitchen.

“You have a beautiful house; it smells nice in here, like a real home” he says behind me.

“Thanks, it’s probably all the candles I burn, I can never have too many” I say and grab two glasses off the kitchen counter.

Moments of silence pass and he doesn’t say something until I’ve poured our drinks and put the bottle of whiskey down.

“You know I never thought I’d see you again, so seeing you this morning was rather jarring” he says as I pick up our glasses.

“Jarring in a bad way?” I ask, walking towards him and offering the drink.

“I wouldn’t say so” he says gently as our fingers brush when I transfer the glass to his hand.

We lock eyes, his green irises putting a spell on me. I feel my heart burn and I don’t walk back to the other side of the kitchen for a moment; too lost in the lusty haze surrounding us.

When I finally back away, he asks me a question: “Are you still religious?” He’s looking down at the ground, noticing some smudge on his shoe.

Oh God, I think. He’ll hate my answer, I mean he’s a priest. But he broke his vows first, who is he to judge?

I blush with guilt and shake my head. I decide to confess with a hint of playfulness, “How can I be after what you did to me?”

His eyes shoot up to look at me. When he sees my smirk he takes a deep breath in, as if trying to hold something back. After a second he nods, smiles, and says, “That’s very fair”

“What about you? Are you still religious?” I tease, taking a sip of my drink.

“What do you think?” he scoffs and adjusts his collar, “However, I’m no longer a junior priest, I’ve fully joined the priesthood.”

“Oh yeah? Congratulations. Can I ask you a question about priests?”

I decide to be bold because already this whiskey is having an effect on me. I want him to take my clothes off and have me right here on my kitchen island.

“Of course, anything you want,” he says. The look on his face makes me think he already knows exactly what I'm about to ask. It has to be brought up eventually.

I bite my lower lip before asking, “What kind of priest fingers someone?”

He pauses, his eyes probing mine with a fire lit behind them. His eyes undress me, the lower half of his face going a little slack with shock.

He takes a breath, licks his lips and says, “a sacrilegious one”

I shiver under his gaze, and ask quietly, “Are you still sacrilegious?”

He stares at me, sinful ideas blossoming in his head. I can see them form behind his eyes.

“Should we find out?” he asks in a low voice, straightening up.

“Yes please” I smile and put my glass down. He does the same.

He walks towards me and corners me to the counter. He places his hands on the counter beside my hips and looms over me. The smell of his cologne hits me and my legs become weak. As I stare up at him he lifts his hand off the counter and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear.

With his fingers gently cupping my face, he kisses me. It’s soft at first, and so gentle. His warm lips barely even on mine. The taste of whiskey crawls into my mouth and makes me burn to taste more of him. He continues, gifting me with slow, loving, sweet, kisses.

The tantalizing, methodical movement of his lips makes my head buzz. His deliverance of affection and passion sends heat everywhere, flooding every vein.

Soon, the lust of years gone by, is too strong to resist and things begin to heat up. His tongue glides into my mouth and we begin to devour each other. Our mouths open wide, and greedy to explore.

Both of his large hands hold my face as I melt like ice cream in his mouth. The feeling of his hands cradling my jaw and skull so tenderly makes my cunt lurch with amusement. Knowing how vulnerable and fragile I am as he handles me, twists the knot inside me tighter.

His hands begin to get a little rough, a little more in control. They hold me close to his lips and his fingers tangle and tug slightly at my hair.

His stubble and fallen strands of hair tickle my cheeks as his body slowly molds into mine.

My hips push against his thighs and my lower stomach is pressed to his pelvis. I can feel him stiffen through his slacks. He moans into me when I push myself into him more, not wanting any space between us.

I wrap my hands around his neck, keeping him leaning downwards to kiss me. I weave my fingertips into his hair at the nape of his neck and play with it. Apparently he likes this because he places a knee between my legs and pushes it forward until his thigh reaches my crotch. Feeling the pressure he creates, I roll my hips and pathetically grind on his thigh.

I moan into his mouth as he bites my lower lip and lifts his leg to create more pressure. We part naturally to breathe and he moves his hands to my ass. He squeezes gently and asks, “Have you been a good girl all these years?”

I don’t know what to say so I just nod and whimper as he grips my ass, and I chase his lips.

“Tell me,” he commands softly, fingers clawing into my flesh.

I sigh, out of breath and because his words turn me on. “Probably not Father,” I say, “but I can be good for you tonight”

He responds with a shaky moan-like laugh, delighted with my response and kisses me with such desire I almost become a puddle at his feet.

He continues to knead at my ass, pushing and pulling with the rhythm of my hips on his leg. He does this all while kissing me, the cat and mouse with his tongue making me grind harder.

I’m panting into his mouth, holding his face as close to mine as I can. We stop kissing when I’m unable to breathe and need to concentrate on not overwhelming myself with pleasure so quickly.

“Look at you getting all worked up on my leg” he whispers into my ear.

I moan at his comment and squeeze my thighs around his leg.

His hands move from my ass to my breasts. He squeezes them through my shirt. I immediately rip my shirt off over my head and undo my bra for him.

He marvels at my tits and takes them in his hands. As we kiss he pinches my nipples and runs over them with his thumb. I’m whimpering into his mouth, twitching at his touch.

He pulls off my mouth and ducks down to my chest. He takes one of my breasts into his mouth and sucks. His tongue plays with my nipple as he sucks my breast.

I hold his head to my chest, so far immersed in this pleasure I block out the world.

He moves his mouth to my other breast and I moan. He sucks and plays with my tits for a few minutes, giving them attention. When he’s finished he begins kissing me again. He kisses me and I taste my skin on his tongue. He pulls away suddenly, and I can tell in his eyes, that he’s thought of something.

“You wanna be good? Turn around,” he tells me.

That’s what I do. I turn around and bend over the counter. I feel him pull at my jeans, and feel the cold air hit me. He pulls my pants down to my ankles and I kick them off.

He comes up behind me, hips pushing against my bare bottom. I feel him through his pants and I clench around nothing. He leans over me and kisses my neck just below my ear. The sound of his breathing and feel of his lips forces a sigh and whimper out of me.

His hands feel up my waist and back, germinating seeds of heat sowed under my skin. His hands travel to my shoulders, and down my arms. His fingers wrap around my wrists, and this display of dominance makes my stomach flutter.

He whispers into my ear, “Stand up”

We stand up at the same time, his hands let go of my wrists. When we’re up, he turns me around against the counter by my waist. He kisses me once more and grabs my wrists again.

When he pulls away, he keeps one hand holding my wrist. He starts to walk to my living room, and I follow him as close as I can. He leads me to my couch and he sits down in the middle. I sit next to him.

“Bend over my lap,” he commands.

I give him a curious look that asks, “what are you about to do to me?”

His eyes shimmer, he smirks and nods to his lap. I’m intrigued and crawl over him.

I feel his hard-on underneath the side of my hip as I settle myself over his lap.

Wasting no time, he runs his hands over my ass and grabs palm fulls of my flesh. I feel his fingers grip my skin to expose my pussy for him to look at.

“Fuck” he moans and slaps my ass a little.

I squeal from the sharp sting and circle my hips in response. I wasn’t prepared for his hit but I enjoyed it.

“Oh did you like that?” he asks and another slap, a little bit harder than the last, lands on my other cheek.

I moan a ‘mhm’ and squeeze my thighs together. He slaps me again.

I’m cursing at the surge of pleasure being sent to my cunt each time he spanks me.

He rubs his palm over the places he’s slapped, cooling and soothing them with his touch.

Once again, he spreads my folds with his fingers and groans at the sight of me. My slick covers the inside of my thighs, coating my skin.

“Such a pretty pussy” he murmurs, groping my ass. I feel and hear him spit on me, his saliva landing right at my entrance. My stomach churns with heat, and I wiggle my hips, trying to grind into his lap.

I then feel his finger circle my hole, prodding at it, teasing me. I push my ass up, trying to make his finger slip in. The heavy tip of his finger, toying with me, makes my head spin. The crave for his fingers in me becomes almost impossible to bear.

“Father, please” I plead, my face buried in throw pillows.

“Please what? Cmon use your words for me” he teases.

I feel his other hand begin to rub my clit. The desperation for his fingers in me only amplifies. My skin prickles from the torture he’s causing.

“Please put your fingers in me” I beg.

He listens and plunges his long, thick finger in. I release a sob of relief and pleasure, when I feel him deep against my walls.

He begins to curl his finger, slowly hollowing me out. He soon starts oscillating between fucking his finger in and out of me, and pushing up against my g-spot.

I crave more, and that’s what he delivers. Adding another finger, he opens me up and pumps into me more ferociously.

He fucks me with his fingers, deep and hard, making tears form in the corners of my eyes. His other hand vibrates with speed against my clit, making me moan and squirm. He fucks me perfectly, hitting every pleasure nerve in me. His fingers start to vibrate in me and I begin to cry from the overwhelming bliss.

His fingers coax an orgasm out of me, setting free what had been building up all day. It’s over way too fast and I’m in shock at how easily he drew an orgasm from me.

“Oh my god” I pant once he’s slowed his movements and I’ve come down.

“That good, huh?” he teases and takes his fingers out of me gently.

I sigh at the empty feeling and push myself off my stomach. I sit back on my knees and say, “you have no idea,”

He drags his fingers across my waist, leans towards me, and before our lips touch, he says, “oh I think I do”

As he speaks he brings his two fingers that were in me, between our lips.

I blush, embarrassed at my orgasm that covers his fingers.

“Open,” he says, and I do. I let him push his fingers into my mouth, exploring my tongue.

“Do you like the way you taste?” he whispers, his gaze never straying from my mouth. He’s smirking, enjoying the show, as he watches me suck on his fingers. I nod, showing him. I take his wrist in my hand and pull his fingers from my lips. Once out, I kiss the tips of his fingers and he scoffs as it turns him on.

“Get on your knees” he says softly. He’s not commanding or harsh, but almost moaning with his anticipation.

I kiss him quickly on the lips and watch him smile as I slide off the couch and onto the floor. My knees bruise but I don’t care, I just shuffle myself between his long, meaty thighs.

I look at his crotch, and see the tent in his pants. It makes the heat between my thighs only grow. He leans forwards and begins to stroke my hair. He pets me and says, “So far, you’ve behaved well. But, I want you to show me how good you can be”

I know what he wants and I’m more than happy to service him.

“You think you can do that for me?” he asks.

“Yes Father,” I say and reach my hand up to palm at his erection.

He breathes out quickly through his nose and says “good girl,”

I watch him lean back into the couch, giving me full control over him. He unbuttons his black dress shirt and peels his roman collar off. He shrugs off his shirt and I’m stunned at how his torso looks. It’s so sculpted and tan, it’s better than I ever imagined. I notice a tattoo of a pentagram at the center of what appears to be the sun. It’s above his left peck and it sparks curiosity in me. I want to know the story behind it eventually.

I slither my hands up to his belt and undo it slowly, biting my lip in excitement. I remember him well; how could I forget?

His belt undone, I zip open his fly and then tug at his pants and underwear. I need to see him, I need to feel him.

He lifts his hips and pushes his pants down and off, kicking them to the side.

Finally, his red, inflamed cock is free, and all for me. I grab it immediately and wrap my hand around it, feeling how thick it is.

He lets out a shaky breath as I take him in my fist.

“Come on baby, show me what you can do,” he breathes out, encouraging me.

I kiss the head of his dick, smearing pre-cum on my lips. I then stick my tounge out and lick around his tip. Once I’ve swirled my tongue around the head of his leaking dick, I begin to make out with his shaft. I kiss up and down his cock, all the way down to his balls. I suck on his balls, taking one into my mouth, and then the other. He moans as I slobber on them.

“Fuck, you’re so-,” he can’t finish his thought, too lost in watching as I lick every exposed piece of him.

I’m looking up at him the whole time, watching his reactions. His fist is holding my hair back, guiding my head gently. I finally wrap my lips around him and suck. He groans as I begin to slowly bob up and down, getting my mouth used to him.

“Look at you…” he coos, proud and stunned by my eagerness. I smile through my motions, happy he’s in awe of my performance.

As I continue, I look up and see his eyes shut tight and jaw clenched as I suck. His hand on the back of his head causes his arm to flex, sending a ripple of tingles to my pussy. I hum in pleasure at his enjoyment and this causes him to let another moan escape.

Hearing him fills me with endurance and excitement. I force myself to go deeper, taking him into my mouth a little bit farther. I keep the same up and down motion, going a little faster as well.

I pop off him, giving myself a minute to breathe. I look up at him and his face is heavily flushed and he’s biting his bottom lip. “Fuck” he sighs.

I giggle and continue where I left off.

Now, I’m taking him all the way to the back of my throat. My teeth have rubbed the inside of my lips raw, and his cock has bruised my throat, but I’m not about to stop. I’m giving him the sloppiest head of his life and it’s made clear to me that he’s almost done.

He’s been panting for a few minutes now, as if he’s trying to control himself. Trying to hold out a little bit longer. I keep going, focusing on his pleasure only. My hands are playing with his balls and jerking on the lower half of his cock.

He goes silent and then all at once I hear him moan and let out curses while something warm fills my mouth and throat. When he’s finished, I slow and stop.

I look up at him and show him my tongue, still laced with his seed. He breathes out an exhausted moan.

I swallow him and show him my empty mouth after.

“Fuck,” he moans, “You’re such a good girl, you should be proud”

He bends forwards and I sit up on my knees. He puts his hands on the sides of my head and kisses me. It’s a little dry, both of us out of breath, but it’s endearing.

He pulls away, his hands still on my cheeks and stares at me. I look up at him, letting him admire me. He plays with my hair and caresses my cheekbone with his thumb.

Neither of us speak, preferring to let the silence embrace us.

The smell of our sweat is thick in the air, almost fog like.

I stand up and climb into his lap. I wrap my arms around his neck and straddle him. I cling to him, the both of us naked and flushed. He envelopes me with his long, lean arms, pulling me tight against him.

We sit here momentarily, breathing each other in, enjoying the intimacy we’re sharing.

I feel him start to kiss my shoulder and move to my neck. I pull my face from his shoulder, allowing him access to my throat. He kisses and sucks on my neck lovingly. He’s inattentive to anything else.

His lips on my neck make me groan lazily. Sparks fly off of us, driving me wild. He kisses up my throat, to my jaw and diligently pours his affection onto my skin. He finally reaches my mouth. Our kisses are like before, slow, less hesitant but just as impassioned.

I desperately don’t want to break away from what we’ve just shared but I know that it’s fleeting. I pull away and hold his head in my hands. It’s my turn to admire him.

He smiles at me and says, “I don’t want to go, but I think I should”

I smile with him and nod. We both know he has his priest thing even though he’s probably the worst priest I’ve ever met.

“Call me if you’re ever in town again” I say.

“Absolutely,” he says.

I climb off him and dress myself. He sits up off the couch and does the same.

Before he leaves I take a pen and sticky note from a drawer in my kitchen and write my number and name on it. I hand it to him after he puts his shoes on and is standing by the door.

He slips the sticky note in his pocket and pulls me in by my waist for one last kiss. When we part he says, “Goodbye,” and smiles as he opens the door.

He walks through and out into the night. I take his place by the door and watch as he walks down my sidewalk and gets into his car.

I shut the door as he drives off and sigh while I think about what just occurred.

I still smell him and I’m not sure if I’m ever going to be able to wash it off.

[coquitokisses]

Trusting Again | chapter 013: nightmares

Word count: 2628

A/n: we’re back to the povs for a brief moment lol also, it’s been a month since last chapter (again, yes) it’s March, Bucky’s bday <3

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~ C A T ‘ S P O V ~

“I don’t understand, there are some very pretty girls who work at the compound, why didn’t you asked one of them out?” I said to Sam as I stretched my arms over my head

It’s like 7 pm and I came with him to his daily walk. Yes, I walk every morning with Bucky, but I wasn’t doing anything when Sam asked me so I just came with him to keep him some company. And because I was bored.

“Dude, I wasn’t looking to date any of them.” He shrugged “Besides, they’re younger than me.”

“Maybe that’s what you need.”

“No, what I need is to not look for a girl.”

I rolled my eyes. “You’re just like Steve.”

“But Steve has only had one girl and it’ll always be that way.” He replied

“Yeah, true.” I smiled a little “That’s kinda cute.”

“It is.” He nodded “You want something like that?”

“Well, not exactly like that, but it would be nice.” I shrugged

“What about Ryder?”

“Did you know he was older than me?” I turned to look at him

“Yeah, five years, right?”

“Yeah, something like that.” I nodded “I don’t think it was gonna last anyways so.”

“What are you talking about? He was totally into you.”

“I was into him too, but I think that eventually we weren’t gonna keep going.”

“But why? You worked together.”

“Because of that exactly.” I replied “I’ve seen other agents and people from work that have dated and it doesn’t end too well.”

“I like Ryder, he’s a nice guy.”

I nodded. “He really is.”

And I wasn’t lying. He’s a very nice guy. And very cute too. But at the end of the day, we were kinda different and I know that it wasn’t gonna last very long because of that. Even tho it was starting to get serious when I left New York. But oh well, nothing I can do now really.

“Let’s go home, I’m getting hungry, dude.” Sam spoke

“Wait! Can we go to that bakery you went the other day?” I said

“Yeah, sure, it’s not too far from the apartment, we can make a quick stop.” He replied “Why?”

“Tomorrow’s Bucky’s birthday!”

“But he said that he didn’t want us to sing him happy birthday.”

“I know, but I just wanna get him at least a muffin or something.” I said “Is it open? Can we go?”

“Yes, it’s still open and of course we can go.” He nodded “You guys are not arguing as much anymore.”

I laughed. “Well we kinda made a peace treaty.. sometimes I wanna hit him with a pan, but yeah, we get along pretty well.”

“That’s good.”

“Or maybe he just pities me because of everything that happened after I let him go in Austria.” I shrugged

Sam just laughed. “Nah, I think he just likes you, that’s all.” He said “He’s a nice guy.”

“Well look at you, saying nice things about him after you were opposed to the idea of saving him.” I tilted my head a little

He rolled his eyes. “Alright! I was wrong, I admit it.”

I just laughed at his response.

We decided to walk back to the apartment, stopping at the bakery first to get the muffins obviously, and once I bought them, we left.

* idk what to write now so let’s just skip this part lmao *

* hours later *

(also, this is written in 3rd person)

2:43 am and Cat just got up from the bed after having one of the most vivid nightmares she’s ever had. She looked out the window taking deep breaths to try and calm herself down and after a few minutes, her breathing went back to normal and her hands were no longer shaking. She looked down to her dark blue colored toenails before taking a deep breath. Every time she has a nightmare she feels like something is going to happen and she hates that feeling. She’s aware that she’s not completely safe and that one day the other shoe will drop.

She shook her head slightly trying to shake away those thoughts and decided to get out of her room. When she was walking towards the kitchen, not much to her surprise, she saw Bucky sitting on the couch with his head rested back. She walked to the living room and sat right next to him. He already knew it was her even though he had his eyes closed.

“Hi.” She said softly

He turned his head to look at her. “Hi.” He replied, his voice a little raspy than usual after being quiet for so long “Trouble sleeping?”

Her lips curved into a little smile because she remembered that she asked him the same thing back when they were still in Denmark. “Yeah.”

“Still having nightmares?” He asked and she just nodded in response

“How about you? What’s keeping you awake?”

“Same thing.” He replied turning his head in the same position it was before Cat got there

She looked at him, brows frowning a little feeling a bit worried because she knew how it felt. “You had a nightmare?”

“I’ve been having them.”

“Been having them?” She questioned “Since when?”

He shrugged. “Since I’ve been myself basically.”

So technically, since 2014.

“So that’s why you can’t sleep.” She said and he nodded “Why didn’t you say something?”

“I thought they would eventually stop.” He looked back at her

“But they haven’t.” She added and he shook his head “What are they about?”

“Like memories.” He let out a sigh “From when I was the winter soldier.”

“Do you.. wanna talk about it?” She asked softly

“Not really.”

“Do you want me to go?”

“No.” He replied and just stared at her for a few seconds “Wanna talk about yours?”

She shrugged. “If you wanna hear it.”

“I’ll always hear you, doll.”

That made her feel really good deep inside. She has been noticing that he’s very attentive and she really likes that.

“Well.. it was about this girl I had to kill.” She replied “My first kill, actually.”

“How old were you?”

“Seven, I think.” She said pulling her legs up to the couch “They made the more agile ones kill the weaker ones.. I was the first to kill one of the weaker ones.”

“You were literally kids.”

“Yeah, well, they didn’t really cared.” She shrugged “They were turning us into weapons basically.”

“You didn’t turn out like that.” He looked at her

“Well, I’ve managed to leave that behind.” She nodded slightly “But I, uh, I’ve done some.. horrible things at such a young age that it shocks me sometimes.”

“But it wasn’t because you wanted to.”

She shrugged. “I don’t know, what if they dug enough to get that side of me out?”

“I refuse to believe that.”

“You don’t know the things I’ve done..”

“You don’t know the things I’ve done either, in fact, I don’t think you know half of them.”

“That’s different.” She shook her head “You weren’t in control.”

“You weren’t either, you were just a kid, they literally manipulated you into thinking that that is what you are.” He said “And after all these years, after all the good things that has happened to you since you got out, it’s still affecting you.”

“You know, Steve asked for my help to find you because I was willing to do what he couldn’t, right?” She told him “He said that he needed me because I was just as ruthless as you were when you were the winter soldier and he said that I was the perfect person to help him because I don’t hesitate, I would’ve done anything to bring you with us, even if I had to kill you.”

“Yet here we are now.” He turned his body a little so he could face her more “You didn’t even made an effort to kill me, on the contrary, you tried to talk to me, that shows that you’re not what they made you.”

“You know? This is how you should talk to yourself.” She rested her head on the backrest of the couch “You’re not what they made you either, James and this is enough proof, stop torturing yourself.”

“This is how you should talk to yourself too.” He replied “Stop torturing yourself, Giselle.”

She couldn’t help but smile a little, not only because he called her by her middle name, which no one ever does, but because she found that it was sweet of him to say that back to her. “Maybe we both should start taking that advice more seriously.” She said

“Yeah, we should.” He nodded

Just a few seconds later, she gasped sitting straight. “Holy shit.”

“What?” Bucky frowned confused

“It’s tomorrow!”

“What’s tomorrow?”

“No, today is tomorrow.” She said getting up from the couch

“What are you talking about?”

“It’s almost 3 am.” She walked to the kitchen “It’s March 10th.”

“Uh, yeah.” He replied although it sounded more like he was questioning it

“It’s your birthday! What the fuck?” She said opening the fridge and taking out one of the muffins she bought yesterday

“Is it?”

“Are you okay? You literally told us yesterday, while we were eating breakfast, that you didn’t want us to sing you happy birthday.”

“Oh that’s right, I did.”

She grabbed the little candle that Sam chose and the lighter before heading back to the living room.

“I don’t know if you like blueberries but I got you a blueberry muffin because, well, it’s the most common.” She sat on the couch again “And we’re not singing happy birthday, but it’s a must that you make a wish so we bought a candle.”

“We?”

“Well Sam chose it.” She put the blue candle in the muffin and then grabbed the lighter to light it up “Make a wish.” She put the muffin in front of him

“You believe in that?”

She pulled the muffin back. “Don’t be so pessimistic on your birthday.”

He laughed. “Alright, I won’t! Sorry.”

She put the muffin in front of him again and just a couple of seconds later he blew out the candle.

“Did you make a wish?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “I did.”

“Don’t tell me what it was or it won’t come true.”

“Okay, I won’t.” He nodded

“Happy birthday, James” She took out the candle and handed him the muffin “You’re officially 100 years old.”

“I am, that’s crazy.” He took the muffin in his hand “Thank you, doll face.”

“That is the most old fashioned pet name I’ve ever heard.”

“People don’t use doll face anymore?”

“Not really.” She chuckled “Babe it’s more common.”

“We used babe back then too.”

“I think babe it’s just too basic.”

“It kinda is.” He nodded “What’s your favorite pet name?”

“I don’t know if I have one.” She replied “But some pet names in spanish sound pretty fucking cool.”

“Oh right, that’s your first language, I forgot.”

“It is.”

“The accent never went away.”

“I’m glad it didn’t.” She smiled “Natasha says I sound like Sofia Vergara sometimes, which, to be honest, I don’t think I do.” She shrugged

“I don’t know who that is.”

“Right, sorry.” She chuckled “She’s a colombian actress that has an accent too and it’s something that stands out.”

“Well I don’t know how she talks, but you do have an accent.”

“I know I do.”

“But it sounds really cool.”

She couldn’t help but laugh a little. “Well thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He chuckled “You want some?” He showed her the muffin

“It’s okay, there’s another one in the fridge, I bought one for each of us.”

“You sure? You can have half.”

“Do you wanna give me half of the muffin?”

“Honestly yeah, it’s too much sugar and look at the time.”

She started laughing. “You’re such an old man.” She shook her head lightly “Alright, give me half of it then.”

Bucky parted the muffin in half with his hands and then gave one of them to Cat.

“And I like blueberry muffins by the way.” He said “So thank you, again.”

“I’m glad because the other ones didn’t look quite as appetizing as this ones.” She replied

They ate the muffin and actually stayed in the living room for a while just talking. Both of them started to get kinda sleepy, but neither wanted to leave to their room so after a while, they both fell asleep on the couch unintentionally.

The next morning, as usual, Steve was the first to wake up. Once he used the bathroom and brushed his teeth, he made his way to the kitchen to make coffee when he saw his two friends sleeping on the couch. Bucky actually fell asleep in the same position he was last night, Cat was curled up next to him with her head resting on his right arm and Bucky had his arm over her knee.

The scene took Steve a little by surprise, but he still went and grabbed a blanket from Cat’s room to cover them since he saw Cat all curled up like that. He put the blanket over them, careful not to wake them up and then went back to the kitchen, thinking that it was kinda cute to find them like that.

Odd, but cute.

(…)

Three hours later, it was now 9 am and Cat was the first one to wake up. She opened her eyes slowly trying to adapt to the light and remembering that she never went back to her room. She looked around the living room and the kitchen, but neither Sam or Steve were there.

She moved a strand of her hair behind her ear and noticed her head was laying on Bucky’s arm. “Oh god.” She said under her breath pulling away from him but careful and slow enough to not wake him up

But that was in vain since he woke up anyway.

“Sorry.” She apologized

“It’s okay, don’t worry.” He ran his hands over his face until he realized that he was on the couch “Wait, we slept here?” He immediately looked at her

Cat nodded. “We did.”

“Did we really?”

“Yeah.” She nodded again

“And who brought this?” He grabbed the blanket

She shrugged. “I guess Steve, Sam would never cover me or you with a blanket while sleeping.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

“Oh my god, I can’t believe I fell asleep on your arm, I’m so sorry.” Cat covered her face with one of her hands

“It’s alright, I didn’t even noticed.” He chuckled a little

“How’d you sleep?” She asked

“I slept fine, you?”

“I did too.” She replied “Oh my god, imagine Steve’s face when he saw us here”

He laughed. “Relax, I’m sure he’s not gonna say anything.”

She smiled a little after hearing him laugh. “Well hopefully.” She shrugged “Are you hungry? I’m making us breakfast.”

He nodded in response as he stretched out his arms and legs. “I am kinda hungry.” He replied moving to the side falling onto Cat

“Oh my god!” She let out a squeak “Get off!” She giggled trying to push him away

“I’m so tired!” He said yawning “So so tired!”

She laughed. “You’re heavy, dude!” She used all of her strength to push him off to the floor

“Ah shit! I hit my head.” He grumbled

“Oh my god, you’re crazy.” She said laughing and then threw the blanket on his face

“I’m crazy? You’re crazy! You pushed me off the couch and made me hit my head.”

She just laughed. “You almost crushed me to death!” She replied standing up from the couch

“You’re so dramatic.”

She looked down at him. “You’re dramatic.”

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[jawritter]

My Brother’s Keeper

Chapter 10 Final Chapter... for this year anyway....

Summary: Y/N, Sam’s roommate, so far have a pretty good thing going. Both work and function around one another well. What happens when his big brother comes down for the holidays with his mysterious past, mixed with Sam’s own mysterious previous life? Can Y/N and the grumpy older brother find a way to get along? Or will it be a not so happy holidays at the Winchester house?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Plus Sized!Reader x Sam

Word Count:  3.5k​​​​

Rating: Mature (because of future chapters, this story is 18 + only, and not fit for minor consumption.)

Warnings: 18 + ONLY!! This series is not for minors! If I find you, you will be blocked form my work!! SMUT, insecure reader, angst, finding out the truth about monsters, cliff hanger ending, (inserts evil laught here)

A/N: This is the first Christmas fic I have written in a long time! You guys will get this one real time, and I hope to finish it before New Years! Fingers crossed! Anyways, This fic is unbeta’d, so all mistakes are my won! Feedback is golden! My work is 18+ only! No minors! Thanks so much for reading!

Main Masterlist

Y/N’s POV:

Y/N sat, eyes wide, stomach burning with anxiety and nerves, wide eyed at the two men that sat across from her and beside her. The story that they had just told her was so unbelievable, that there was absolutely NO way that they could have made it up. It also explained some things that Sam had around the house that she always counted as strange, like the bottles of holy water, bags of strange things sitting on shelves or in corners… that were apparently ‘hex bags’ for ‘protection.’

Sam had been doing the majority of the talking for the past hour, because when Dean got to certain parts in HIS side of the story, like going to hell for forty years, his mom's death… the second time… the loss of his best angle friend, Cas being the last part, he just stopped talking, and sat next to her in silence staring at the floor. Admittedly, she was sure there were parts of his story that he couldn’t remember after he was impaled to a pole. Parts that Sam would have had to tell. Parts about surgeries, and time spent in hospitals. How life after hunting, after trauma indescribable, and monsters and demons up until the point that they had met, those were things that Dean seemed to be unable to find words for. 

She tried to cover it up. The sheer shock of things that they had told her would surely give her nightmares for the rest of her life, and suddenly, all those things she thought that was fake all of her life, all those things she was afraid of, all of those things that go bump in the night, and some things that she had never even heard of, to find out that they were real… that’s not something you just walk away from the same, and fuck, she was never going to be the same again. 

“I would have given anything,” Dean said suddenly, his voice hoarse and strained as he kept his eyes lowered and his head bowed. “Anything at all, to have never had to tell you that. I would have taken it to my grave if I could have, but if you’re going to spend any amount of time in a relationship with me at all, you need to know the truth. I couldn’t lie to you, it would have just blown up in my face.”

Sam watched her closely, and God she’d love to know what he was thinking, seeing as this is what he wanted anyway, for her to be with his brother, which meant that surely he would have known this conversation was coming one day if his little plans laid out like he wished for them too. She was admittedly a little angry with him that he never told her anything about it. He had years to sit this up, soften the blow, but he never told her one word, and she’d have words with him about that later, when she was thinking clearer, and she had time to process it all. 

"Y/N, say something, please," Dean pleaded. 

His hands were tightly tripping the bottle in his hands in an attempt to hide the tremble in them. His breaths were erupting from his chest in small pants, and he was sweating ever so slightly at his hairline. 

"I, I don't really know what to say," she admitted in earnest, and Sam nodded across from her. 

"It's a lot," Sam voiced, "and the fact that you didn't run away screaming is more than I'd hoped for when Dean told me he wanted to tell you everything."

"I get it," Dean said, suddenly standing. "I'll uhm, I'll go to pack up my things and as soon as they bring the plows through tonight I will leave you guys alone. I'm sorry, I should have never came. You probably think we're nuts—" 

"Hey," Y/N quickly reached for his hand to stop him from running away. "I never said you were crazy, and I never said I wanted you to leave or that I didn't believe you. It's just a LOT to process, and I don't know how I feel about it yet. Scared, fucking numb, angry that you've both had to go through so much trauma, even a little angry that you were left alone when Sam moved here, but that doesn't mean I'm gonna run away or that I want you too. You can't just drop a bomb like that and then run away. It doesn't work like that."

"I'm a lot more fucked up than I appear to be sweetheart, are you sure you still want to so this? That you're still interested in me?" Dean questioned, but slowly sat back down on the couch next to her when she pulled his arm towards her. 

"And that's totally understandable," Y/N offered. "That doesn't mean you should recluse yourself and hide away from your family and people you care about." 

Sam cleared his throat and stood from his seat across from the pair of them, for a moment, she had forgotten he was even in the room. 

"I think I'm gonna call it a night, it's already after midnight, and you guys need to talk things out without me there.," Sam said, and Y/N's eyes drifted to the clock above the mantel. 

"Fuck, it's already midnight?" Y/N whispered in astonishment. 

"It wasn't exactly a short story to tell," Dean chuckled humorlessly next to her. 

"Well, goodnight," Sam cleared his throat again at the sudden tenderness that filled the room, Miracle hot on his heels. 

"Come on," Y/N said, standing suddenly. "Let's go get comfortable, that's enough of the heavy for now."

It was as if a cloud had rested over Dean's face. His eyes were darker. His shoulders were slumped slightly as if a weight of a thousand pounds had rested on Dean's shoulders. She didn't like seeing him like that. She didn't like that the light he carried from the moment he walked into her life seemed to have dimmed just a little by the darkness that had fallen from their past like a shadow of a passing storm. The worst of it may have been over, the wind and the rain and lightning no longer pounded against him, but the destruction remained. The darkness lingered. She could see it now, why Sam said he needed her. He was alone in an aftermath that was much bigger than him. He needed someone to help him pick up the pieces. 

Dean followed her, completely silent. Neither of them had changed from their pajamas the night before, so she pulled back the cover, and invited him to crawl into bed next to her. 

He stood there for a moment, his gaze shifting between the bed and the floor. 

"What is Dean?" She questioned, she'd never seen him so unsure. Not that she'd known him all that long. 

"Nothing, I just… I really didn't expect you to stay," he admitted before sliding slowly into the bed next to her. 

"Well, I told you I didn't scare easy," she attempted to tease him. 

"Maybe you should," he said, completely serious. "Everyone that I've ever loved, cared about, as you heard, they usually don't last long around me. Maybe I shouldn't have put you into this position at all."

"Dean, nothing supernatural ended Sarah's life. It was cancer. Something that can and has happened to anyone. That wasn’t you. You and Sam both said it yourself. Things are different now. It's okay, I'm okay, nothing bad will happen to you or me."

Dean nodded, still very unsure, and maybe he’d always be a little unsure, always waiting for the next shoe to drop, and everything to fall apart, that’d just be something she’d have to slowly work on fixing for him. He deserved some piece in his life. 

“You know,” Dean said as slipped his arm around her, and pulled her in closer to him so that she was resting her head against his chest, the steady drum of his heart beating against her ear. “You and one other woman are all that I’ve ever told, you know, about what we really do. Well, women that weren’t part of the life, or became hunters. Sarah was a hunter already when I met her. Joe, I never gave her the chance she deserved, but she was raised in this shit. I was young and stupid, and she is probably my biggest regret, if I could have done it all over again… I guess the point I’m trying to make is that I’ve got a lot of regrets, and I have to live with those, there’s not a fix for that, but I don’t want us to be another one.”

“I’m not going to be Dean,” she told him again, and if she had too, she’d tell him a thousand times over. If it’s what he needed to hear, needed the assurance, she’d tell him over and over again. 

Dean took a deep breath, willing himself to relax. She could feel how tense he was underneath her, and she wished there was a way to help him through it, because God she knew what it felt like to be all bound up like that. Talking about the things he’d talked about today had not been easy, at all. It’d taken a toll on him emotionally and physically. 

She let her fingers trace the hard muscles of his chest through his thinner, white shirt. He shivered underneath her, and wrapped his arm tighter around her. 

“So you’re really gonna stay?” She questioned, “Leave the bunker behind, and come here?”

Dean sighed heavily. “If it means being here with you, then yes.”

“But… you really don’t want to stay here, do you?” 

She questioned, the sudden tightness around her own chest told her she already knew the answer to that question.

Dean moved, sliding down in the bed to lay on his side next to her so that he could see her, almost as if he sensed what she was feeling or thinking. It amazed her how they already seemed so connected. 

“I wanna be wherever you are,” he assured her. “If that’s here, or fucking Miami, Florda, I’m there.”

“But The Bunker is the only home you’ve ever known—”

“The Bunker served its purpose for me, as I’m sure it will for someone else one day, but my HOME has always been where Sammy is, and now where you are. I”ve always been a bit of a nomad sweetheart. Starting over again here won't be as bad as I’m afraid it will be. I'm just having a little trouble letting things go in my old age, but once I get established, I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.”

“You’re not old,” she countered, and deadpanned, a bit of the spark coming back into his eyes that had been dampened out by the earlier conversations of the past. 

“You’re in a relationship with an old man, sweetheart, face it.”

“What can I say,” she teased, “I got daddy issues.” 

It just slipped out, she normally never talked that way, she was just trying to be funny, and as soon as she did, the blush that covered her face had her damn near glowing. 

“You’re adorable when you blush you know that,” Dean questioned, brushing her hair behind her ear so that he could see her face better, and fuck if that didn’t make her blush even harder. 

“There is NOTHING cute or adorable on me, or about me,” Y/N said, attempting to hide her face from him. 

“That’s not true at all,” Dean countered. “You’re gorgeous sweetheart, there’s not a flaw on you.”

“You haven’t seen me naked,” she shot back, and the impish smirk that crossed his lips probably had the power to melt her clothing slam off of her body. 

“No, I haven’t, but fuck I”d sure like too.”  

Dean’s finger tips traced her sides, and down her thighs. “You’re fucking beautiful baby. So soft, warm, inviting… God you have no idea how bad I’d love to see you naked. You wanna talk about flaws? My boney ass has plenty of them. But you, baby girl you look just how a woman should. Fucking gorgeous.”

“Whatever,” she argued, “have you seen yourself lately?”

“Every goddamn day baby, and it ain’t nothing to look at, but you,...”

Dean let his words trail off as his eyes traced every part of her body he could see. Drinking her in like a man dying of thirst. 

Before she could argue with him any further, Dean captured her lips in his, kissing her deeply, doing his best to wash away every fear, every bit of anxiety, and every bit of insecurities. It worked. It was damn hard to focus on anything but Dean when his lips were tracing their way down her neck and shoulders. When his callous hands were making their way under her shirt and up her sides slowly trailing a line of fire in their wake. 

He’d succeeded in keeping her thoroughly distracted until he took the hymn of her shirt in his hands, and began to lift it over her head, and she stopped him, suddenly afraid that when he saw that her stomach wasn’t so flat, or that she had stretch marks on her hips and her breast, that he’d run away screaming. He may have lived a literal nightmare, but he’d never seen her naked, and she was afraid that as soon as he did, he’d run. 

"What's wrong, did I do something wrong?" Dean questioned quickly, and fuck if that didn't make her feel worse.

"You didn't do anything wrong, it's me. I… I don't know if you really want to see me naked, cause I'm not perfect by ANY standards."

Dean sat up in the bed, and for a moment she'd thought she'd made him mad when he stood up out of the bed. But to her surprise, with an almost sad face, he started to remove his own layers of clothing. Starting with his hot dog pj's, when he kicked his leg up on the bed, revealing a scare that looked a whole lot like a bullet hole in his thigh muscle before grabbing her hand, and running it over the discolored skin. 

“I can show you imperfections sweetheart,” he continued, standing up straight, and ripping his shirt from his body, revealing a thin, yet soft tummy, and broad chest and shoulders, that looked like they had been carved out by the hand of God himself, but past the initial shock of it all, littered a multitude of scars among seas of freckles and tanned skin, and one tattoo, matching Sam’s, until he turned, revealing a good sized mark on his back, that was slightly indented, and once was a hole, where a piece of rebar almost took his life from him far too soon. 

It took all she had in her to hold back the deep breath she almost gasped in, there was no way he should have survived that, yet here he was. Alive and well by some divine miracle that they didn’t even understand, and somehow, it made it all more real, like that was evidence of everything he’d ever told her. 

“That’s just the shit you can see Baby, that ain’t got nothing on the years of mental and emotional scars that don’t show like these do.”

Dean turned around to face her, crawling back into the bed just as he’d been laying a moment ago. 

“There ain’t nothing you got hidden under those close honey that is gonna run me off. I’ve seen some horrible, terrifying shit in my life, and I can assure you, there’s none of that on you at all. You have absolutely NO reason to hide from me whatsoever baby, I promise you, you’re gorgeous.”

Y/N’s mind and heart were racing, somewhere deep, DEEP down, she knew he was telling her the truth, but she still felt that hint of anxiety that screamed at her that she didn’t deserve someone as beautiful as him. Someone as brave as him. A fucking hero for fuck’s sake. 

“Hey, but if you don’t want to go any further than this right here tonight, or any other night, I’m okay. I promise. We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do. I don’t want you to think I’m pushing you for something I’m not.”

She looked up at him this time. No man alive had ever told her that before. She was by no means a virgin, but usually, it was what the male in the relationship wanted. They rarely ever cared about what she wanted or needed. Ever. 

“No, no, I want to,” she’d said with determination after a moment. “I want to be close to you Dean, it’s just not that easy for me.”

“I wish you could see what I see,” he mused, scooping her up and pulling her close as he physically could to him. “Then maybe this wouldn’t be so hard for you.”

“Then show me,” she said, swallowing past the lump that had suddenly developed in her throat. “Show me what you see.”

That was all the prompting he needed to slip his hand around her back to brace her as he rolled her onto her back, his lips never leaving hers except when broke away to lift her shirt above her head. This time she let him, and he kept her busy with his lips to be well distracted as slowly, every layer of clothing she’d had, except her underwear, had slipped to the floor. 

His fingers traced every inch of skin his lips couldn’t find as he worshiped her body, leaving a trail of open mouth kisses over each swell of her breast, and over stomach as he worked his way lower over her body, and as he made his descent, the more her anxiety grew. 

“Dean,” she said, attempting to stop him, but he just raced back up towards her lips with his, kissing away what little bit of anxiety had risen there. 

“It’s okay,” he assured her, “trust me.”

She nodded after a moment of internal struggle. She’d never had a man be THAT intimate with her before. Normally, any oral sex that was performed during sex with her, she was the one doing it. Usually, most men she’d been with were either really bad at it, or only cared about themselves. 

But this was Dean, and Dean was different. When she looked at him, she didn’t see any judgment there. Just devotion, and caring, and more love than she’d ever been looked at with before, and it was enough to make her agree to it, even though she was a little afraid as he slipped her underwear off of her legs slowly, and centered himself between them, nibbling at her hips and making her giggle as he kissed his way up and down each thigh, avoiding where she desperately needed him the most, teasing. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he said before leaning forward and licking a long, fat strip through her dripping center, and fuck if she didn’t damn near arch off of the bed as he devoured her, strong hands ripping her hips tightly as he sucked and licked at her swollen nub until her body was shaking around him, and band winding tighter and tighter until it snapped as suddenly as he’d wound it, and she fell apart like puddy in his hands, causing him to grow at lap at her, determined to take all she had to give him as if he was a man starved. 

“Goddammit baby girl,” he swore as he slowly made his way back up her body, leaving little pecks and kisses along his way. “You taste as good as you look.”

Her mind was foggy, her body was limp and drained, and he’d just barely gotten started with her. She swore that this man had to be a fucking capital offense in several states with just his mouth alone, and she didn’t know if she’d actually survive him fucking her. Still, she was gonna try. 

She reached for him, and he slowly slipped out of his boxers, revealing himself hard and leaking. God he was gorgeous, she’d never seen a more beautiful man in her life. He was a breathing work of art, and surely Gods or man would never make another more perfect man, and he was hers, she had to be dreaming, but if this was a dream, she never wanted to wake up, ever. 

“You okay baby?” he questioned, and she could only nod in response, words failing her. “Cause we can stop, I’m okay, we don’t have to go any further if you don’t want me to.”

“I want you to Dean, I’m fine,” she assured him, and he nodded before gripping himself to line himself up with her dripping center, causing her to gasp as he swiped his thick, spongy tip through her juices. Causing her to shiver. 

“Look at me sweetheart, I want you to look at him,” he said, and she did, it took all the strength she had, but she did it, she forced her eyes open, and he slowly pushed himself into her quivering cunt with one smooth thrust that knocked the wind out of her. 

The stretch and burn was more than she was used to, her muscles contracted around him as she adjusted to the sheer size and girth of him, and he stayed still there, letting her, not rushing, not pushing, even though it surely took some restraint on his part to stay like that. 

“You’re so fucking perfect baby girl, don’t let anyone ever tell you that you’re not,” he told her, kissing her deeply as he slowly started to rock his hips into her, pressing, grinding, helping her move her body along with his own, but never really pull away, instead he kept them locked together, holding onto her like a lifeline for a drowning man, and maybe in away he felt like he was drowning and had been for a long time, she knew she sure as hell felt that way a lot lately, but not now, not with him, she just felt complete; whole for the first time in her life. 

“Dean, move,” she begged him, suddenly needing more of him needing to feel him, as he picked up the pace of their movements, grinding himself deeper into her, and driving her higher hand higher with every press of his lips down into her already sensitive clit. 

“Not until you cum cause I’m not gonna last long,” he admitted, “cum for me sweetheart,” and she did, as if he had somehow managed to take over completely control of her body, and that’s when he pulled out and began to really trust into her, fucking her through her orgasm that had her vision blurring around the edges, and her body feeling like it was falling and somehow on fire all at the same time. 

She came down from her high just in time to watch him fall apart, and fuck if he wasn’t the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen as his body jerked and came to a still deep inside of her as he spilt himself into the condom she didn’t even realized he’d slipped on, but she was thankful that at least one of them was thinking clearly enough to practice some sort of safety. 

After a few moments of floating in what felt like something between eternity, and death itself, Dean rolled off of her carefully, leaving her feeling empty and cold before he kissed her carefully, as if she was the most beautiful, most fragile thing he’d ever encountered. “I’ll be right back,” he told her, and slipped into the bathroom to remove the condom from himself, and to return with a warm, damp cloth to clean her up before cleaning himself. 

She felt strange, whole, safe, protected. Something she’d never felt before, but more than that, she felt charished, and loved, and fuck if that wasn’t the best, most comforting feeling she’d ever felt in her life as he tucked her into his chest, and wrapped the covers around them safely. Protecting her from all the hurtful, evil things of this world. 

Nothing was said, not a word was spoken. But nothing had to be either. She was content just to lay there in his arms, safe, warm, his. 

“You know,” she said after a moment of pondering, her mind racing too fast for her to fall asleep. “If you want, I’d love to go and live with you, in the bunker, maybe… I don’t know, help you start your own private investigation firm. I’ve worked with Sam for years, and with lawyers… If you wanna go home, there’s nothing really holding me here. Maybe we can even get Sam to come with us. I think we all need to be together again, but I also think that home is more Kansas for you than Detroit.”

“I like that idea,” Dean said after a while. “I think he will come with us too. I think I’d like to take you home with me. Cause you’re gonna have to be the one to hold me together, cause I’m a mess.”

“I think I can handle that,” she assured him, and she really did. Sam was right. They were meant for one another, and she had no problem being his brother’s keeper. In fact, it was all she ever wanted to be again…

Sam’s POV:

Sam closed the door to his bedroom, and nearly jumped out of his skin at the trench coated figure that stood in the room, facing the window, looking outside at the snow, and for a moment, he was stunned, dumbfounded even. 

“Cas?” 

Cas turned to face his old friend, his shining blue eyes sparkling in the dim light that filtered the room from the street, and Sam nearly fell to the floor. 

“I thought… I thought you were… You’re back?”

“I’m back,” he voiced, walking over towards his overly tall friend, “and I’m here to tell you that now that Dean has his soul mate, it’s time to get back to work, you boys, and Y/N, you got work to do…”

That’s all til next time everyone! Thanks so much for reading!!!

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[ananke-xiii]

Form and Void... Hands and Hearts.

Intro + the post before this you kinda need to read them all or it won't make a lot of sense lol

Dean and Crowley's relationship is not fun.

Full disclosure here: I have no problems in terms of shipping and having fun with the characters outside of what's canon but I personally don't see Dean's canon relationship with Crowley as "fun", it's not something that I particularly enjoy watching. Like, the actors are great etc. but the actual story makes me feel... uncomfortable. I actually find it sad that Dean's still attached to Crowley because, as much as I like him as a character, the King of Hell acts like a total predator towards Dean and this episode highlights this side of their relationship in uncomfortable ways. So be warned that things get a little ugly from here.

Let's see how food is treated in the episode: Crowley is presented as "Father Crowley" while he puts sugar in his tea and calls Dean "a rather scrumptious altar boy". The image I get from this is both that of the sugar daddy and, because of the religious references, of the scandals surrounding the Vatican and its priests (I'm trying to be as sensitive as I can but the show is really not and Crowley literally makes a reference to these events later on in the episode).

Father Crowley is a piece of shit.

He will later pull up in a van and kidnap young Amara with this line:

My, haven't you grown into a sweet young thing? Want some candy, little girl?

If we consider that Amara and Dean are connected (by the mark that's above Amara's heart and that was on Dean's right arm) Dean and Crowley's past relationship doesn't look so much fun anymore (well, it never was fun to begin with as I've written although the show did its best to make it look like it was fun with the karaoke, the cowboy hats and the sex. I mean, on paper it does look like fun if we can just forget that Dean was very much Crowley's guinea pig).

In case you were wondering, Dean and Amara are bound, guys.

Crowley here is the preacher/hunter of "The Night of the Hunter". He dresses like a priest but he's hunting for demons (yeah, I know, it's a clear reference to "The Exorcist" too). He happens to find "the child that eats the souls" and proceed to kidnap her. I mean, brrrrr.

And how does Dean feel about it? He still loves him! Poor, poor, poor Dean.

While Sam went for the heart of Poor Guy with the electrocution device, the angels went for Cas' heart (and other parts too) with the angel blades, Dean goes for Crowley's heart with Ruby's knife. Unlike Sam and the angels, he doesn't finish what he had set up to do.

Dean's knife is pointed at Crowley's heart but I'm bad at taking screenshots so this is what you get.

Instead, he pins Crowley's to the wall by stabbing his left hand (the hand of love and receiving) with an angel blade. Visually, it's quite similar (not the same, similar) thing that happened to Cas at the end of S10. It couldn't be more sexual (angels blades are the dicks, also interesting choice of weapon to stab Crowley: Cas' ghost in their relationship is ever present) and more problematic: in a heartbeat Dean goes from prey to predator.

They re-used this very explicit image in S12.

Just like Dean is bound to Amara, he's still bound to his former abuser Crowley. And, I mean, from a storytelling pov it tracks because Amara is very much Crowley's and Dean's baby ("You're very maternal, Dean"). Yeah, I can hear your "ewwww" from here knowing where they went with Dean and Amara but I didn't write the show, they did and I'm picking up the things they've put down. Anyway, Dean and Crowley's relationship will be over only once Dean's not bound to Amara anymore. Or, at least, it should be but like any love triangle writers liked to milk it unti it was dry, i.e. one of the three permadied. This is why, I think, we had the echoes of the same trite trope in S12 too and if you enjoyed it good for you. For me it was torture.

Demons would be the perfect angels. Sam too.

A SPN-related theory of mine is that demons would make perfect angels. Both demons and angels are cursed with the "I get what I want" mentality. Abbadon said it, Crowley says it again in this episode. It's a very angel-like mentality, however demons are unironically more likely to put in the effort, follow the guidelines, work behind the curtains. They would be perfect angels for Chuck.

Ironically this time, angels and demons have hardly ever gotten what they wanted (hello Castiel!). They all tend to work in a certain direction only for the result to backfire in the end or leave them dead. Which reminds of a certain character named Sam Winchester.

"Form and Void" is an episode that explicity parallels Sam to the angels and to Crowley. Sam and Crowley's parallels are my everything. Up until s8 they were quite obvious while after that they're in the story's backbone rather than clearly on screen. If you care, this is one of the reasons why Crowley and Lucifer's power struggle could've been way more interesting if they had thrown in Sam in some capacity instead of doing whatever they did with Sam in s12. *breathes and calms down*

The End (of this rambling post).

"Form and Void" foreshadows how S11 would end: dark and light becoming One. It's something that US tv shows (tended to) do a lot when they deal with Christian themes: when they're going a little over the edge and very close to blasphemy they pull a "Eastern Mysticism" card to signal that they were just kidding! In SPN they did the same thing to Jack in s15. When they deal with God they use buddhist concepts as a cop-out to avoid doing things that may upset Christian believers (and no, canon bisexual God is less of a threat than canon God's older sister who's more powerful, female-presenting and holding a huuuuge grudge or than having a world with no God, no Hell and no Heaven).

Hands and hearts are a huge motifs and they signal what the characters will be doing and/or their true intention/identity. In order to see this, though, one must pay appention to the scene shown at the very beginning of the episode, a scene from the movie "The Night of the Hunter". This specific scene tells us that what we see is the opposite of what the writers mean and that the core theme of S11 is not so much God vs The Darkness but rather love. This love, however, lies in cages protected by keys and it's secret and forbidden but, as that scene tells us, love's a-winnin'. To save the day and let Love still win we've got a giant plot-twist in the form of maternal love and the resurrection of Mary Winchester. The heart's needs are met, its wants are still unknown. You can't always get what you want... SPN really did believe that.

[starglaee]

The Tortured Karate Department - Thoughts

Each song from The Tortured Poets Department applies to Cobra Kai/ Cold Hearted in some aspect. 

For context, I am a major swiftie and love Cobra Kai so much that I've written a fanfic with an OC named Zion. If you're interested it's on Wattpad, titled Cold Hearted, and my username there is the same as here. 

Anyway, I listen to this album and can't help thinking about Cobra Kai characters while I do.

Here are my thoughts. Feel free to add on if you wish!

-

Fortnight

Cobra Kai (CK): SamRobby. They were so shortlived and this is especially relevant if we go with the plot of Sam looking at Robby during the prom episode: “Your wife waters flowers. I wanna kill her.”

-

The Tortured Poets Department

Cobra Kai (CK): Amanda and Daniel because she always keeps it real with him: “This ain’t the Chelsea Hotel. We’re two idiots.”

Cold Hearted (CH): Elion (Eli and Zion) at the end of season 2 based on when he says he’ll be with her forever but this is from his POV: “At dinner you take my ring off my middle finger and put it on the one people put wedding rings on, and that’s the closest I’ve come to my heart exploding.”

-

My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys:

Cobra Kai (CK): Tory with Kreese (obviously not romantically) as he manipulates her but kind of cares: “I’m queen of sandcastles he destroys.”

Cold Hearted (CH): It’s the same but with Zion: “Once I fix me, he’s gonna miss me.” (Foreshadowing for season 6?)

-

Down Bad

CK and CH: Robby, because all I can think about is at the beginning of season 4 when he was lifting weights and debating leaving: “Now I’m down bad crying at the gym. Everything comes out teenage petulance.”

-

So Long, London

CK: I’m trying to make this one fit, but honestly none of the relationships are long-term and unhealthy enough (that I can think of?) in this show to really fit Taylor’s heartbreaking writing for this song. Even finding one for Cold Hearted is difficult.

CH: I feel like this can be Zion mourning the loss of Santa Maria and in part her mom with everything suddenly in her past when she can’t take the abuse anymore. But this song isn’t really about abuse. I’d come at it more from the idea of losing the good parts of a childhood home and her moving on despite what her dad may have wanted for her. Maybe.: “I’m just mad as hell ‘cause I loved this place for so long, London. Had a good run.”

-

But Daddy I Love Him

CK: Okay, so if I had to choose I’d say this applies to season 1 Samiguel with the whole Daniel hating Miguel by association with Johnny: “Even my daddy just loves him.”

CH: I think it fits Zion and Jess well by illustrating their coming out. I know it’s not necessarily queer song and is written from the lens of a massive superstar sick of everyone weighing in on her life, but it also captures the drama of being in high school and being gay in high school specifically. It also works for Tory and Piper who are girlfriends in CH: “I’ll tell you something right now. I’d rather burn my whole life down than listen to one more second of all this bitchin’ and moanin’.”

-

Fresh Out the Slammer

CK: I’d say this fits Tory and Robby, but instead of the slow burn with them in the parole office I’d say this applies to Tory’s escape in season 5 episode 10 when she meets up with Robby after finally breaking free from Silver and kisses him: “Camera flashes, welcome bashes, get the matches, toss the ashes off the ledge… I will never lose my baby again.”

CH: Zobby (Robby and Zion), if that wasn’t obvious from reading the later chapters of my season 4: “Now pretty baby I’m running back home to you. Fresh out the slammer I know who my first call will be to.”

-

Florida!!!

CK and CH: Miguel running away at the beginning of season 5 to Mexico: “I need to forget so take me to Florida. I’ve got some regrets I’ll bury them in Florida.”

-

Guilty As Sin?

CK: for shits and giggles this one is Silver. Just for the fact that he’s arrested as of season 5’s finale teehee.

CH: Zion because she never cheated!: “Without ever touching his skin how can I be guilty as sin?”

-

Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me?

CK and CH: Literally any woman on the show! ANY! But if I had to choose it’d be the main 3 (Tory, Sam, and Zion): “‘cause you lured me and you hurt me and you taught me. You caged me, and then you called me crazy. I am what I am ‘cause you trained me.”

-

I Can Fix Him (No Really I Can)

CK: Idk the Lawrusso shipper in me thinks this fits for them specifically in early season 4 when they try to work together and fail. Or when Kreese finds Silver and brings out the PTSD again: “Whoa, maybe I can’t.”

-

loml

CK: I feel like if Johnny knew Taylor’s deep cuts he’d listen to this and think about Alli idk: “We embroidered the memories of the time I was away, stitching, ‘We were just kids, babe.’”

CH: Again it feels like an Elion (Eli and Zion) song but this time from Zion’s POV after he said they’d be together forever: “You shit talked me under the table, talking rings and talking cradles. I wish I could recall how we almost had it all.”

-

I Can Do It With A Broken Heart

CK: Tory saying “I broke up with him because of this dojo, you bitch!” Yep. That’s her.: “Try and come for my job.”

CH: I feel like overall this also applies to Zion taking shit and just training through it: “I cry a lot, but I am so productive. It’s an art.”

-

The Smallest Man Who Ever Lived

CK: Tory with Silver after she learns about his involvement with Stingray's assault and the All Valley cheating: “You kicked out the stage lights but you're still performing.”

CH: The same with Zion and Silver but arguably worse: “And in plain sight you hid, but you are what you did, and I’ll forget you but I’ll never forgive.”

-

The Alchemy

CK: Lawrusso isn’t technically canon (yes it is), but if they were this is a cute song for them. I can’t really explain it, so you either get it or you don’t: “‘cause the sign in your heart says it’s still reserved for me. Honestly, who are we to fight the alchemy?”

CH: Teehee this is self-indulgent but it’s Zobby (Zion and Robby): “Ditch the clowns get the crown. Baby, I’m the one to beat.”

-

Clara Bow

CK: From Daniel to Sam to Anthony for the LaRusso legacy: “Them’s the breaks. They don’t come gently.”

CH: From Aisha/ Zion to Zion/Tory to Devon for the Cobra Kai girl’s legacy: “You’ve got edge; she never did. The future’s bright. Dazzling.”

-

The Black Dog

CK and CH: Robby about Sam while he’s in prison and she’s training at Miyagi-Do without him: “Old habits die screaming.”

-

imgonnagetyouback

CK: Okay, I’ll be cute again. Lawrusso. Do they fight? Do they kiss? How about both?: “Whether I’m gonna flip you off or pull you into the closet, I haven’t decided yet.”

Elion (self-indulgent) in season 3 with the on-and-off flirting and hating: “And I’ll tell you one thing, honey, I could take the upper hand and touch your body, flip the script and leave you like a dumb house party. Or I might just love you til the end.”

-

The Albatross

CK: It’s about the Miyagi-Do legacy Daniel passes to Sam and Robby OR Johnny explaining how to handle the trauma of Cobra Kai to the young Cobras: ”You were sleeping soundly when they dragged you from your bed, and I tried to warn you about them.”

CH: It can also be from Daniel to Zion about redemption and forgiveness after breaking free from Silver’s Cobra Kai and coming to Miyagi-Do: “I’ll tell you how I’ve been there, too, and that none of it matters.”

-

Chloe or Sam or Sophia or Marcus

CK: Oddly enough I think pre-CK Shannon would find this song drunk and think about Johnny. She’d always wonder if he could have been there for her and loved her like he is now with Carmen. Maybe that’s a stretch: “Will I always wonder?”

CH: I feel like Robby for the brief part of season 5 when he leaves Zion he’d relate to this song: “You needed me but you needed drugs more. And I couldn’t watch it happen.”

-

How Did It End?

CK: Sam because her relationships are everywhere and each breakup - Kyler, Miguel, and Robby - is such a massive thing in high school: “It’s happening again.”

CH: This also applies to Zion because there are so many rumors about her. I’d say in the beginning/ early parts of season 3 is when this is most applicable: “‘Didn’t you hear they called it all off?’ One gasp and then, ‘How did it end?’”

-

So High School:

CK: I believe Carmen feels So High School with Johnny, despite me not being a Jarmen shipper. I just think about that little dream she had and want the best for her. Just like this song is the best: "You knew what you wanted and boy, you got her."

-

thanK you aIMee

CH: Zion about Gabi, her former enemy who outed her in Santa Maria: “'Cause all that time you were throwing punches it was all for nothing.”

-

I Look In People’s Windows:

CK: I think about season one Miguel going over to the LaRusso's house and seeing Robby eating dinner with them when I hear this song. He jumped to conclusions and got drunk angrily without communicating to Sam, too: "So I look in people's windows like I'm some deranged weirdo. I attend Christmas parties from outside. I look in people's windows in case you're at their table."

-

The Prophecy

CK and CH: What if I just say everyone at one point has related to this song? I'd be absolutely right.

-

Cassandra

CK: Tory because she is cursed with knowing Silver cheated without being able to do anything about it, she warns Daniel and he gets hurt, and then Kreese abandons her while she struggles to even stay at the dojo: “So they killed Cassandra first ‘cause she feared the worst and tried to tell the town.”

-

Peter

CK: Kumiko with Daniel for obvious reasons. I do love them.: “You said you were gonna grow up then you were gonna come find me.”

-

The Bolter

CH: Zion because she keeps running away when things are scary as a trauma response - for example with Miguel’s fall and Silver’s attack: “Ended with the slam of a door then he’ll call her a whore, wish he wouldn’t be sore, but as she was leaving it felt like breathing.”

-

Robin

CK: This songs reminds me of that one scene that shows a flashback of Daniel training Sam in Miyagi-Do when she was young: "Way to go, Tiger. Higher and higher. Wilder and lighter. For you."

CH: Zion to Ella in season 3 as she teaches her and tries to protect her from the world: “You’ll learn to bounce back just like your trampoline.”

-

The Manuscript

CK: It doesn't apply because these characters don't move on from or properly cope with anything lmao

CH: For adult Zion looking back on the trauma: “But the story isn’t mine anymore.”

-

Please add to this or share your opinions. I'd really like to see them.

[nicoline1998enilocin]

Big mistake

PAIRING | Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader

WORD COUNT | 2.1K

SUMMARY | After a mission gone sideways, Bucky doesn't want to see anyone and just be left alone, so he can comprehend what happened. During this time he gets pushed to his breaking point, but now he has to live with the consequences of his own doing. This chapter is written from Bucky's pov.

WARNING(S) | This is your official trigger warning. Do not proceed if any of these topics upset you. Choking, anxiety, struggles with mental health, swearing, self-hate talk.

A/N | This one-shot is part of my series called 'Yours, Forever' and focuses on the events taking place during Chapter 7. However, this can be read as part of the series, or a standalone one-shot.

Likes and reblogs will be very much appreciated 💜

Main Masterlist | Bucky Barnes Masterlist

''Man, I can't wait to see Y/N again, I've missed her...'' Bucky said to Sam, but he really wish he hadn't when their phones went off saying that they had to get ready for a last-minute mission. ''Fuck, I'm supposed to pick her up from the airport in 3 days...'' Bucky sighed, but he didn't have a choice since he was called on to this mission too. ''I'm just gonna see if Steve can do it, I'll meet you at the jet,'' he said to Sam who agreed. He walked to his room and called Steve, even though he really didn't want to bother him on his date. Seems like he doesn't have much of a choice right now.

The phone rings 3 times before Steve picks up, much to Bucky's delight. ''Hey man, what's up?'' he says. ''Hey, I have to ask you a favor man. I'm supposed to pick up Y/N at the airport in 3 days but I got called into a last-minute mission, can you do it? I'm really sorry I have to pull you out of your date for it!'' Bucky rambled when getting his tactical gear ready to change into. ''Yeah no, it's okay. We can pick her up, don't apologize!'' Steve said, and he checked with Lucas if it was okay, he had never met any of his friends, they weren't even together for that long. ''All right, we'll be there, be safe on your mission, she'd want you back in one piece!'' he said before hanging up and Bucky was relieved that he could always count on his friend.

He slipped on his tactical gear and picked up his mission bag, which was always ready to go whenever he had to leave in a hurry. As promised he met Sam and the rest of the team and the jet, where everyone waited for Tony to give instructions on what would happen, since Steve had a day off for once. ''Bucky, I really don't think it's smart for you to go on this mission since it involves HYDRA. We don't want to risk you getting captured again,'' he said, but Bucky didn't want to hear it. ''I can handle it, I've proven that by now, right? Or do you still not trust me?'' he said with a layer of disgust in his tone, knowing full well what he thought of Bucky.

''You can fight me on this all you want, but I really don't think it's smart. Anyways, for this one, we need to infiltrate an old HYDRA base that has recently been taken into use again and make sure we destroy it for good this time. Everyone will go in their usual pairings and positions, so make sure you're ready.'' he finished his briefing. ''When we're done, we will meet everyone back at the jet, if we do it right the first time, we'll be out in a couple hours.'' and with that the rest of the ride was silent, Bucky was just staring ahead at the wall trying to collect his thoughts which wasn't that easy considering they would go into a HYDRA base again.

The mission went almost flawlessly, except for the fact that Bucky and Clint got attacked, and they were both off pretty bad. Clint had to be stitched up when they got back on the jet, Bucky was better off since he would heal pretty easily with the serum. The things he saw at the base were haunting him and all the memories he had from HYDRA and the Winter Soldier came flooding back all at once, giving him one of the most intense migraines he has had in a very long time. All he wanted to do was go home and lock himself in his room, he didn't want to face anybody right now. He just needed to be alone, just like he deserved to be.

Back at the compound, Steve and Y/N were waiting for everyone to come back after their mission, especially since she just got back from her trip to Italy and missed everyone so much. ''Oh Steve, here they come!'' she squealed excitedly when the jet came into sight, but Bucky wasn't ready to face her, not after everything that had just gone down a few hours ago. He didn't want to burden her with all of it, so as soon as everyone got off the jet, he walked in a straight line to his bedroom, not even so much as sending a glance over at Y/N, afraid that if he did he would break right then and there.

''Sam? What's going on with Bucky?'' he heard her ask and he really wanted to turn around and tell her what happened, but he couldn't get himself to do it. He felt so incredibly stupid right now, because all he wanted was to hold her and tell her he was okay, but he wasn't okay. His mind didn't stop showing him flashbacks, and the migraine didn't become any less either. Once he reached his bedroom, he slammed the door shut and asked JARVIS not to let anyone in, no one was allowed in his room for the foreseeable future. He walked into his bathroom, stripped himself of his tactical gear and turned on the shower, hoping that would make him feel a little better. It really didn't.

After his shower, he was standing in front of his mirror looking at himself, but all he could see was the version of himself he really wanted to forget his old self. All he could think about is how he didn't deserve to be here right now, that he should have been dead just like they planned. When these thoughts became increasingly overwhelming, he punched the mirror with his flesh hand and he cut himself deep when the shards of glass hit his hand, but he didn't care. ''FUCK!'' is all he could get out of his mouth because he couldn't deal with this right now. He just wanted to lay in bed and not talk to anyone.

For the first week, he could barely get himself out of bed to do anything, feeling locked inside his own head. The nightmares and flashbacks didn't stop, they only seemed to get worse the more time went by. He constantly gets texts and calls but ignores them because he really doesn't want to deal with anyone right now, he just can't get himself to do it. ''Fuck off!'' he yelled when his phone went off again and he smacked it against the wall with his vibranium arm, the thing shattering completely upon impact. All he can do is cry and turn around endlessly in his bed, afraid that when he falls asleep he won't ever wake up out of the nightmare.

The second week, he noticed that the nightmares and flashbacks subsided a little, but it wasn't much better than the first week. By this time he had managed to shower at least once, which was a little bit of an improvement, and he even started to eat some of the things his teammates left in front of his door every day. He was thankful that they still cared for him when he felt like this, but he still feels like they shouldn't. He is slowly gaining a little bit of his strength back and his energy goes up more too, but his mind still won't let him go outside of that door. In his mind, he is still very much a prisoner, just like the 7 decades he spent in HYDRA.

Y/N was at his door multiple times a day, talking to him about her days, what she did, and everyone else. She told him how she wanted to help him because she cares about him. ''You shouldn't be here Y/N,'' Bucky said shortly when he was finally getting sick and tired of her being there, even though he shouldn't be. He knows better than that. He reaches his breaking point, when she said ''Bucky, please. This isn't good for you, and we miss you, man. Hell, I miss you the most. I just want to see my boyfriend, I want to be there for you. WHY DON'T YOU UNDERSTAND I JUST WANNA HELP?! Why doesn't that get through your thick skull'' and she would immediately regret saying it.

He quickly got up from his bed and ripped the door off its hinges, and grabbed Y/N by her throat with his vibranium arm pushing her against the wall. He squeezed harder than intended but all the wanted to do was to stop her talking. When he heard Steve's voice across the hall, he relaxed a little knowing that it would finally be over. Steve pulled him off of her and he let him, falling back with a hard thud on top of him. He got washed over with regret, he did the one thing he promised he'd never do, and that is hurt her. He hurt the one person he cared the most for, aside from Steve. When he got up and pushed Steve off of him, all he could do was cry. The stress from the last few weeks all came out, and he could do nothing else but cry uncontrollably.

Bucky was well aware that he was royally fucked right now, he lost the one thing he felt worth living for. He lost his sunshine, his doll. Deep down he always knew there would be a bit of the Winter Soldier left in him, but he couldn't have imagined it would lead to this, to hurting Y/N. After he stopped crying and he picked himself back up, he wanted to go to the gym to get the rest of his anger out by punching something until he couldn't anymore. Until he couldn't stand on his legs from pure exhaustion. He changed into his gym clothes and opened the door, which is when he saw something silver shining on the floor, Y/N's necklace with her mom's name on it. He carefully picked it up and put it away in his nightstand for safekeeping. He really hoped he could give it back to her.

After about 2 weeks, everything had settled back to normal, except for the fact that everyone avoided looking at Bucky whenever they were in the same room as him, and he couldn't blame them. He did such a stupid thing, so he would just avoid everyone as much as possible, until there was an emergency meeting he couldn't get out off. He waited for everyone else to get there, so he could go in last. When he entered the conference room, he saw all eyes on him, but he also noticed that Y/N was there. As soon as they made eye contact, she flinched and quickly hid behind Steve so he could keep her safe. He quickly looked down to his shoes and found a chair that was as far away from everyone as possible.

All he could focus on was Y/N and the dark purple bruises that were still covering her neck. She had silent tears streaming down his face, but Tony held her close and was rubbing her back. That should be me, soothing her. Wait, no, she shouldn't need to be soothed, to begin with! he thinks to himself, the realization of his actions dawning on him once more. When the meeting was over everyone walked out of the room, except for Bucky, Tony and Y/N. ''Doll, can I just talk to you for a minute? I want to tell you how sorry-'', is all he could get out before he got rudely interrupted by Tony.

'' ''You don't get to call her doll anymore. You lost any and all privilege of that when you decided to hurt the one person who cared more for you than you could even imagine. When you hurt the woman who loved, hell, still loves you more than anything, but you had to go and fuck that up, didn't you? Because for some fucking reason, you can't see a good thing when it's right in front of you!'' Tony said, and Bucky got mad in an instant. ''You don't get to talk to me like that Stark. I would choose your next words carefully, or you'll be next.'' Bucky threatened him, and in his anger, he punched the wall with his vibranium arm. This made Y/N flinch again and made her cry even harder, letting out long, hard sobs. Bucky walked away and realized, once more, how utterly and royally fucked he was.

[jensenscomedyelbows]

SPN FIC REC FEST #4

AUs/Crossovers

*assume all recs are rated EXPLICIT*

*assume all recs are Wincest or Wincest +*

*all participants give and receive*

THE SILENCE OF A SUMMER DAY by wanttobeatree

***Everyone who loves the Winchesters should read this amazing future fic***

AU. Rated PG. The world has moved on. This is their legacy.

(I’m just reccing this one in several different categories because I can)

THE HOWL VERSE by paxlux

S4 AU. Serial killers after Dean returns from Hell. No angels here, just bloodthirsty savages, AND so 👏well👏done👏

CENTURIES OF STONY SLEEP WERE VEXED TO NIGHTMARE by britomart_is

OFC POV. Future AU.

I found the POV fascinating. Boyking!Sam has to continue his predestined lineage. Dean, his Consort, auditions women willing to bear the Antichrist’s child, and when the OFC is chosen, helps her through the actual sex part, since, ya know, he knows what his brother likes. All 100% consensual, as much anything can be in a capitalist society that preys on women

and

…BY A ROCKING CRADLE by britomart_is

Sequel to the above. OFC POV. Future AU. Boyking!Sam/Consort!Dean/OFC and a bunch of permutations thereof

A SORT OF HOMECOMING by elzed

Crossover: Friday Night Lights

Sam/Tyra Collette/Tim Riggins, implied Dean/Mindy Collette

FNL starred a character named Tyra Collette who was played by Adrianne Palicki, aka Jess in SPN season 1. Tim Riggins was played by Taylor Kitsch, who was coincidentally born in Vancouver BC and currently lives in Austin, where FNL was primarily filmed and where Jared lives. The overlap is just…FANTASTIC. I mean, Sam is Jared is Sam, and Tyra is Jess is Tyra. Tim is just hot. Sadly, Dean’s erotic adventures take place out-of-story in this one, which is very well-written and whose Sam is very much in-character and believable. As a fan of both SPN and FNL, finding this fic was just *chef’s kiss*

THE SUITE VERSE by leonidaslion

Boyking!Sam AU. Lots of non-con and dub-con. I feel like this one is a no-brainer. It’s legendary. Clear your schedule and strap in for the bloody end times. Sam is keeping Dean prisoner in a luxury high-rise above the carnage that Sam is wreaking out in the world as the Antichrist. Dean is not enjoying this turn of events. Appearances by Bobby, Ruby, Castiel, Ben Braeden, and probably more that I can’t remember. Anyway, enjoy this twisted novella-length set of stories. 🫣

APOCALYPSE VALLEY by onelittlesleep and meyerlemon

AU. Sam and Dean are living in a world without people. At least, as far as they can tell, they’re the last men on earth. After a little over two years, a woman approaches. This is the story of Sam, Dean, and Emily after the end of humanity.

*Apocalypse Valley isn’t online anywhere, but my wonderful fic detective @jarpadandjensens found it for me, so I have uploaded it to my Dropbox, and that’s where the link will take you.

[thelordofgifs]

Obscure Tolkien Blorbo: Round 2

A fox passing through the woods on business of his own vs Tinfang Warble

A fox passing through the woods on business of his own:

A fox who found Frodo, Sam and Pippin asleep under a tree and was puzzled by this.

Yeah sure why NOT switch PoV to a (arguably) non-sentient creature for like a paragraph with no bearing on the actual plot besides the comment that it never realized that the plot was happening??

It shows up for one page for no reason.  It's great.

Listen, that fox is absolutely a borbo. Confused? Funny? Has enough to be memorable but little enough to write a shitload of fanfiction about? Someone I have actually written about? Twice? (they aren't on ao3 though) clear boorbo

Look, people have observed before, correctly, that one of the things that sets The Lord of the Rings apart is that Tolkien will tell us things about the well-being of minor characters, like that the hobbits’ ponies that they lost in Bree were okay and went to live with Tom Bombadil. Tolkien is the kind of writer who will switch the POV to a fox who happens to pass by the hobbits on the first night of their journey to Rivendell, because the story isn’t just about the main characters, nor is it just about the endurance of realms like Rohan and Gondor. It’s about every living thing in Middle-earth, and for Frodo it’s especially about the Shire, the home of simplicity and good food and community and gardens and foxes. That’s what he takes up the Ring to save, and the fact that he takes it up with that motivation, not personal greatness or heroism, is what enables him to get as far as Mount Doom. Gandalf lays this idea out to Denethor when Denethor claims the fate of Gondor as a goal above all else: “For my part, I shall not wholly fail of my task, though Gondor should perish, if anything passes through this night that can still grow fair or bear fruit and flower again in days to come.” The Quest of the Ring is not simply about Men and Elves and Hobbits; it is about ponies, and the trees of Fangorn, and tiny sun-star flowers in the grass, and yes, a fox on business of his own who never finds out anything more about the three hobbits he once saw sleeping under a tree, but lives and thrives because of what they did.

Tinfang Warble:

A half-fay from early drafts of the legendarium noted to be one of the greatest musicians of the Elves.

how are you going to vote against a guy whose honest to god name is tinfang warble

He’s named in the Lay of Leithian (HoME 3) as “Tinfang Gelion who still the moon / enchants on summer nights of June”. He’s mentioned alongside Daeron and Maglor as the three greatest Elvish bards, but unlike Daeron and Maglor (Maglor is best known for laments, the Leithian describes Daeron’s music as ‘music for breaking up the heart’, and both disappear tragically), Tinfang seems like the kind of musician you’d invite to parties. Also, ‘enchants the moon’ recalls Frodo’s extended cat-and-the-fiddle song at Bree, so maybe when Bilbo wrote that he was inspired by some existing elvish tale about a party where Tinfang really did call down Tilion and get him sloshed?

Round 2 masterpost