#listen I know that Dean ends up with a partner and I have a hard time forcing myself to read het alright I’m trying

[destiel-more-like-im-dead-again]

BROTHERHOOD AU QUESTION

Does anyone happen to know the ages and approximate birthdays/years of the triad and adjacent? Obviously we know Sam, Dean, Bobby, and John’s, but I wanna know about Caleb, Jim, and Mac. Even if it’s just a “X is this much older than Y”

[holylulusworld]

Designed by pain (10)

Summary: Broken hearts are hard to put back together. 8 years ago, Dean lost something he didn’t even know he had in the first place. Will he get a second chance?

Pairing: former AU!Dean Winchester x fem!Reader

Warnings: angst, language, past break-up, arguments, daddy Dean

A/N: This was an alternative idea for the first chapter of my Bucky story: Monster-in-law masterlist. I decided to use it for a story with Dean.

Designed by pain masterlist

Designed by pain (9)

“What has gotten into you two?” You scream loud enough to make Sam flinch. “Did you realize that Michael heard what you said? He’s a child and that was the worst way to find out that Dean is his father! How could you do this to him?”

You throw your hands up as the men prefer to push each other around instead of listening to you.

“Dean, stop this. Y/N is right,” Sam tries to help you, but Dean is out of his mind. 

“He—he tried to get into your pants. I know it,” Dean grunts and pushes Ketch away. “I saw the way he looked at you when during our meetings, and not moments ago.”

“He’s my friend.”

“No,” Dean steps toward you, “he’s not. All he has in mind is to get into your pants, sweetheart. You’re just too blinded by the lies he fed you to see clearly.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Winchester!” You slap Dean across the face, leaving an angry handprint on his left cheek. “Not all men are pigs or assholes like you.”

“I saw what I saw, Y/N,” Dean huffs, and rubs his burning cheek. “A wolf recognizes another wolf sniffing around his territory. That bastard came to claim what’s mine.”

“What’s yours? Dream on, Winchester,” Ketch laughs in Dean’s face. “For years I played the good guy, her friend, and confidant to make her see that I’m the man she should long for, not the guy leaving her all alone when she needed him the most. Do you have the slightest idea how hard it is to not make a move while you’re longing for the woman you can’t have?”

“Hah, I told you,” Dean wildly gestures toward Ketch. “He’s nothing but a dog wanting to sniff at your pussy.”

You try to fathom that your friend, the man you consider family tricked you only to get into your pants. 

That’s all you’ve been to him. A love interest. Not a friend. Not a business partner. Not the person he cares for.

Ketch is a liar, just like all the other men trying to charm their way into your bed over the years. You didn’t let any man get close to you, afraid to get hurt again. 

A few sexual encounters with faceless men you forgot about the morning after were all you allowed yourself. Your son always came first. This will never change.

“Dean!” Sam warns. “Someone should check on the kid before things get out of hand. He just got to know about his father. Can you postpone your pissing contest for now?”

You give Sam a weak smile. Dean is not the kind of guy who gives up so easily. You know that. For now, you will leave Ketch, Dean, and all the shit they pulled behind and try to soothe your child. The only important man in your life.

“You lied,” Michael sniffs when you enter your bedroom. You sigh, relieved that you finally found him. You were searching for your son for half an hour. Finding him here, in your arms is comforting. He was seeking your closeness while being angry at you.

“Baby boy,” you crouch down to look under your bed. “I’m sorry.”

“You said my dad is overseas, and that he can’t be with us because he’s…always busy,” he sniffles. “Why did you lie to me, mommy?”

“Sometimes adults lie to not hurt someone they love, baby,” you lie on the ground, and touch his hand. “Dean,” you sigh, “your dad didn’t know about you. We ended our relationship, and I left to live here, and give you the life you deserve.”

“Why did you never tell him about me?” Michael asks. “Mommy? I asked about my dad, and you never told me about him.”

“I was scared,” you reluctantly admit. “Dean hurt me back then, and I ran away like a scared child. Almost like you now.”

“You were scared?” Michael scoots a little closer to curl in your side. “Why? Did he hurt you? I’ll kick him if he hurt you.”

“Not like that, baby,” you softly say, and smile at your son. “People hurt you each other differently, you know. Just like Ketch and Dean did with you. They hurt your heart with their words.”

Michael nods. He always was smart for his age. “Words can hurt. In here.” He points at his chest. “I believed you hate me, Mommy. I…I’m sorry.”

“Shhh…I’m sorry,” you move closer to wrap your son in your arms. “I love you, baby. The reason for not telling you about Dean was that I didn’t know if he wanted to get to know you. I was scared and unsure what to do.”

“But…he came here for me,” Michael sniffles. “Right? Dean came here to get to know me. He brought me the car his brother gave him. This means he…likes me.”

You remain silent. “He got on a plane for you. I can tell, Dean hates flying.”

“Let me go, Sammy. That bastard won’t put his hands on my woman!” Dean fights his brother’s hold on him. “I will kill him!”

“You degenerated worm,” Ketch pushes his hair back and laughs about Dean. “Do you honestly believe she will choose you over me?” He huffs. “You had your chance and fucked up big time. I was there the whole time. Y/N will choose me after you attacked me without a reason.”

“She won’t,” Dean bares his teeth. “Y/N is smart and knows that you lied to her. She won’t let you near her or Michael ever again.”

“We will see, Kansas boy,” Ketch spits on the ground. “You’re nothing but a bad memory. I’m a gentleman and know how to treat a lady.”

“I think that is enough,” you snap at Ketch. “Dean, Sam, get inside. I got to talk to my…friend.” You jerk your head toward the door. “Dean, I hope you have a speech prepared because now, you’ll explain to your son why you came here.”

“Uh-sure,” Dean looks at Ketch and then at you. He smirks, knowing he at least won this battle. “Sorry for the mess.”

“Yeah, yeah. Get inside and shut up,” you brush past Dean. “Arthur,” you exhale sharply and steel yourself. “I quit.” 

“What? You can’t give everything up for that man!”

“I don’t give up anything for Dean,” you cross your arms over your chest. “But I will no longer work with a man pretending to be a friend to get in my pants. I believed our friendship was special, now I know better.”

“Y/N,” he tries to touch your shoulder, but you slap his hand away. “You can’t believe his lies.”

“Save it, Arthur,” you shake your head. “I needed a friend, not another lover. I will clean out my office on Monday.”

You turn around and take a deep breath. One fight is done, another awaits you…

Part 11

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

I read a fanfic that was a supernatural crossover with another series, but I found it interesting that in the concept of the fanfic the Winchester sister was grieving after Sam dies at the end of season 5 and felt like she didn't fit in with Lisa and Ben, what do you think of this? I feel that it is very accurate when the Winchester sister is written as being more attached to Dean since she is basically like her father, I mean, in the same fanfic, in the protagonist's narration she says that she left because she knows that if she asks him to , Dean would leave Lisa and Ben and the protagonist wants Dean to have a family after all the shit that's happened, even if she doesn't fit into his "happy family" which I think is also very accurate. What do you think? How do you think the little sister would take "Dean's new family" and Sam's loss?

I might have read that one actually, and I think you’re right. The sister being closer to Dean would make sense, especially since Sam left for a couple of years, that would have been an even bigger deal for the little sister, who was growing up during that time.

And it totally makes sense for her to feel out of place with Lisa and Ben; she was raised by Dean, but it would be hard to turn that into somehow fitting into his family with Lisa and Ben. I think the little sister would be so happy for him, and I also think that if she asked, he’d pick her over them; but she’d never ask.

There seems to be this thing with the Winchesters—if more than one of them are together, their life isn’t normal. They only ever have normal lives if they’re the only one left (ie Dean with Lisa and Ben or Sam with mystery woman at the end of the show). So with a little sister being alive I think his life with Lisa and Ben would be more complicated.

I think the little sister would try at first, for Dean. Sam jumped into the cage, and at first Dean and the little sister just got into the Impala and sat there for so long, with no idea where to go. Then the little sister would look at Dean, and she’d know exactly what he needed even though he didn’t want to say it, because he wouldn’t think she wanted it. She’d tell him to go to Lisa, and he would listen, and for a little bit it would work—kinda. Dean would be getting happier and happier with his little family, but the little sister wouldn’t quite fit—Dean felt comfortable, he took on a “father/partner” role with Lisa and Ben. But the little Winchester wasn’t Ben’s sister, and she wasn’t Lisa’s kid—she wasn’t even technically Dean’s kid.

And on top of all that, she’s still grieving Sam. Even if she was closer to Dean, she still lost a big brother, and with Dean trying to fit into his own family, she’d start to feel like she lost two.

She would try, she really would, and I think depending on the personality of Dean’s little sister, they might actually make it work for the year—but it wouldn’t have lasted much longer. However, depending on her personality, she might give up much sooner—I have a feeling she would go to live with Bobby.

TLDR: the little sister definitely wouldn’t feel comfortable living in Lisa and Ben (and Dean’s) house, and she would struggle a lot with her grief of losing Sam mixed with her loss of connection with Dean. Dean would choose his sister over Lisa and Ben if he had to, but she would never, ever make him choose.

[voldemorts-tap-shoes]

Happy Halloween y’all 🧡🖤🎃👻

Here’s some Partners in Crime to wrap up spooky season!

Vampire Weekend

There’s a lot of downtime to being an Auror. Way more than Ron would have expected before he started hanging around the department two months ago to research his next novel.

Harry, it seems, is always busy as the Head Auror, but if the team isn’t actively working a case, they’re most often sitting around the DMLE just waiting for the next one. Dean and Seamus fill the time with gobstones, exploding snap, and whatever else catches their amusement in any given moment. “If we don’t have work to do, that means no one’s dead,” Seamus had said with a shrug when Ron brought it up.

The lead detective in the unit, though, never seems content to just relax. Ron has watched Hermione help other Aurors with their own paperwork, clean the office top to bottom more than once…watched her practice defensive spells that one day that he had followed her down to the Ministry gym because he’d been sure that was just an excuse to skive off and go do something fun. It wasn’t.

Hermione Granger is an unstoppable force of nature, and Merlin help anyone who chooses to get in her way.

Ron needs a lot of help, these days.

He’s learned at least as much about her in the downtime as he has from watching her solve homicides, but one thing has been consistent: Hermione works too hard. And she hasn’t exactly taken kindly to his suggestions that she take a break every once in a while, as well-meaning as his advice is. He’s pretty sure she thinks his goal is to distract her or pump her full of questions for his book, but he really does just want her to slow down a bit. How she’s not completely burnt-out at the end of every day is one of the mysteries about her that he hasn’t yet solved.

Hopefully, he can convince her to cut loose for just one night and come to his Halloween party this coming weekend, but he hasn’t worked up the gumption to ask her yet. He’s worried she’ll bite his head off, but hoping that she’ll enthusiastically agree and show up in a skimpy costume. Realistically, though, he’s expecting a polite decline that falls somewhere in between the two extremes.

“You can go home, you know.” Hermione’s voice startles him out of his thoughts, and he turns to look at her. She has one eyebrow raised in amusement and a smirk playing on the edge of her lips, making him wonder just how zoned out he was in his thoughts. “You look nearly bored to death. You don’t have to sit around the DMLE while we’re not working a case.”

“Not bored, just thinking,” Ron defends himself. “Besides, if I go home, how will I know when we do have a case?”

“I’ll owl you.”

As much as she doesn’t like him being here, he doesn’t really trust that to be true, but before he can argue, something else draws his attention. The Muggle phone that sits on Hermione’s desk, which may as well be a paperweight for how often he’s seen her use it to make a phone call—exactly never, so far—rings so loudly that it buzzes his eardrums.

“See, if I go home I miss things.”

Hermione rolls her eyes as she reaches for the handset. “You’ve never seen a Muggle phone ring before?”

“Not here. What the hell do Muggles call Aurors for?”

He’s beyond intrigued, but his only answer is a widening of Hermione’s smirk as she picks up the phone. “This is Detective Granger…Oh, hi Darren…I know you are not just calling me to ask how the weather is. I’m only across town.” She shakes her head and shoots a conspiratorial smile at Ron, as if he should be equally amused by Darren’s antics. “No, we’re free at the moment. What have you got?”

Hermione listens while her mouth twists into a deeper and deeper frown over whatever this Darren bloke has to say. Ron is sure he’s making the same face, only his consternation is over wondering who the hell this Darren bloke is. He’s never seen Hermione with anyone, and she’s never mentioned a boyfriend, but he’s also never heard her use that voice before—friendly, teasing, the opposite of the business-like tone he’s used to.

“Are you sure?” she asks finally. “I mean, that’s impossible unless—you’re kidding…Okay, we’ll be right there. What’s the address?” Hermione scribbles his response into the little notebook she carries everywhere while Ron cranes his neck to see what she’s writing. “Great. See you in a few minutes.”

She hangs up the phone and calls to Dean and Seamus as she reaches for her coat. “Who’s Darren? Where are we going?” Ron fires off as he prepares to follow her. “What’s impossible?” And seriously, who the hell is Darren?

“You might want to grab a fresh quill,” Hermione says with a grin. “I think you’re going to like this one.”

***

Read the rest on ao3

[nerdieforpedro]

Tell me how you want me

Fanfiction 18+ MDNI

Word Count: just under 5k

Masterlist / Marcus Pike Masterlist

Marcus Pike x plus size OC (Isabella)

Summary: Marcus Pike is not trying to go to this cookout. It turns out though, he found a sleepy woman that happens to be the best thing that could happen to him.

Warnings: Smut, light BDSM, edging, oral sex (male and female receiving), established relationship, rough sex, after care, unprotected P in V

“Hey just stop by, I promise it will be quick.”

“Your backyard parties are never quick, especially when the cooler comes out. I’m not going.”

“Molly says she wants to see you, make sure you’re still alive. So do your nephews.”

“You didn’t have to mention the nephews Phillips…” Agent Pike sighed, leaning back in his chair. Pike was a sucker for the two little hellions, adorable since they’re both five years old, but double the trouble, he didn’t know how his wife did it with the long hours they have to file reports on these criminals who think they can hide behind art purchases funding their drug money.

Fellow Agent Phillips had been trying to get his partner Pike to stop buy his house for a backyard BBQ. His wife Molly insisted on it, she said he needed to get back out there in the dating game. Phillips said that they shouldn’t butt in because he’s a grown man and hadn’t indicated at any point that he wanted to be set up. Molly was not one for a no, so Phillips decided to ask Pike to join them for the last cookout before the fall really kicked in. It was still sticky and humid during the day but now cool in the evenings.

“I’ll stop by for a bit, say hi to Molly and the twins, then I’m out.” Pike stated flatly.

It would be very hard to do, but the last few years, he had gotten better at putting himself first, guarding his heart. He wouldn’t throw it away anymore as he had better standards for himself. Standards that had lead to some dates and some romps in bed but nothing substantial, not like he had with Teresa, but looking back, was it really? Had he ever really a solid relationship with a woman outside of family, acquaintances and colleagues? Pike knew he loves to please, but he was trying to work himself out of a decades old habit that found him in relationships where women he’s with call him a good man but they leave him for another guy they marry. Pike saw the evidence on social media.

The fated weekend comes and Pike is at Phillip’s house as promised with gifts for the boys and Molly because his parents taught him manners when visiting. It was one of the many selling points Molly mentioned when making the rounds with Marcus, he grinned and smiled through it all, only to be saved by Dean and Bobby running up to him and wanting to push them on the swings connected to the play set. Pike was so thankful for rude little boys.

“Uncle Pike, was mommy walking you around like a show pony?” Dean asked and he tried to climb up in the swing, his brother Bobby laughed to him as he was already in the swing.

“Mommy said it’s a waste he isn’t coupled up? Does that mean like Mommy and daddy? Some of Mommy’s wine friends mentioned that too.” Bobby told his brother, proud to know something he didn’t. Pike sighed at their discussion and knew he was going to have a long talk with Phillips about this.

“Don’t listen to what you mom and dad say, your Uncle is just fine.” Pike smiled, he was mostly telling the truth. After about ten minutes on the swings, the twins were bored and thought of something fun.

“Uncle, you wanna hide from those ladies? We know a good hiding spot! Daddy’s office, he has it but he never uses it. He usually does his papers when he’s with you at work.” Dean chimed, Bobby took his uncle’s hand and lead him into the house, telling the adults that they were going to show him their tablet. It was solid enough of an excuse to not garner any odd looks. Dean kept a look out while Bobby got Pike to the hallway.

“It’s the room at the end of the hall.” Bobby said and waved, tapping Dean on the shoulder so they could pop upstairs and play on their tablets and maybe raid the fridge later.

“Hey Bobby, did we take Auntie Izzy in there too?” Dean asked his brother once they were at the top of the stairs, Bobby thought for a moment and shrugged.

“I think so but she probably left by now. She usually goes home and we can find her online and play Pokemon Go with her.” Bobby answered not worried at all. His Auntie Izzy didn’t take to his mother’s meddling well but she was really fun with different games and she actually knew about SpongeBob and Paw Patrol so she was awesome in their book.

Agent Pike thought he was in the wrong room, but it was an office. There was just a woman laying across the couch in what looked to be a yellow off the shoulder dress, that had a slit in it. It exposed her very thick thighs and maybe a birthmark on the right one, she has white nail polish that matched her fingernails and toes. A smooth mole was on her right shoulder as well, her cleavage glistened with a thin layer of sweat as her chest rose and fell. It appeared she was asleep. White flip-flops were on the floor next to the couch and full fuchsia lips formed a small ‘o’ as she let out a coo. Her round honey tinted face appeared to be completely at peace. What was she dreaming about? Her hair was in an updo, coils in a cute poof above her head, because he was laying on her left side, her hair had teetered to the right a bit. The woman shifted a bit to the right and her cleavage peeked out a bit more from the top of her dress as did her thigh, Pike knew if she shifted again, he may see her panties, which would’t be bad for him. It was like a painting, one of the many he studied, the many artisans of the past had sculpted, painted and sketched full figured women through the eons. He wondered if he had any artistic bones in his body if her would be able to capture of majesty of this moment. The beautiful woman simply existing.

How long had he been standing here again?

Pike took a step forward to get out of the doorway, in an attempt to turn around and leave but knocked over a bookend and this a stack of books that was a the end of a shelf built into the wall. “Shit…” He whispered as he heard stirring behind him, movement. The agent turned and saw the vision of a woman sitting on the couch, rubbing her eyes, trying to get the sleep out. She was now sitting up, her hair still slightly to the right and both thighs on full display of her dress and further moved up. Pike cleared his throat, he needed to hear anything, it was so quiet. “Sorry about that.” He managed to speak softly. The woman nodded and chuckled. Her laugh was cute.

“It’s okay. I was likely asleep for too long. Are you a friend of Jack’s?” He heard her ask, she must know Jack and Molly well to refer to him by first name, or maybe she just didn’t work in law-enforcement, they always used last names. Pike nodded and turned to face her.

“I’m Pike, Marcus Pike.”

“You must work with him, not many people go with their last name first.” She laughed again, this time deeper though, her full lips moving as Marcus watched them, having a goofy smile of his face. “I’m Izzy or Isabella. I prefer Izzy though.” She stood up and pulled her dress from between her belly and thighs, she stepped forward for a handshake. Pike obliged and took her hand in his, it was soft but she had a firm grip. His calluses from using his gun slid against her palm and he sighed, feeling like he was exhaling all of the air in his lungs. She was up to his shoulder, not inducing her poof, looking down at her, he wondered if her lips as sweet as they looked. “Nice to meet you Marcus.” She smiled up at him, letting go of his hand and turning around to slip on her flip-flops.

“Nice to meet you too Isabella, er Izzy.” He corrected himself, he head her giggle as she checked her pockets. Women really do love dresses with pockets. “Are you avoiding the party as well?” Pike asked, he hoped so, then he would have something to talk about. After giving herself a quick pat down and it appeared as though she had everything, Izzy answered.

“Yeah, Molly insisted I come to get out of the house, but she just had a few guys she wanted me to meet. Wasn’t into it, so I asked the boys for a good hiding spot.” She put her hands on her hips, her arms jiggled with each movement. Pike couldn’t stop watching her. “Then I fell asleep after getting too comfortable.” She tossed a hand up with a shrug of her shoulder.

Marcus was racking is brain, should he ask for her number? Might be a bit too soon, coffee! Coffee is fine usually. Situation is a little awkward, but what wasn’t with the entire cookout debacle. “Izzy, would you want to get out of here and grab coffee?” He asked, cheesy? One hundred percent but why not? He wasn’t sure if he had ever studied anything or anyone in this much detail and he still wanted to know more.

Izzy’s eyebrows raised as she thought and agreed. “I could go for some coffee. You got Dunkin rewards? If not, I have some.” She pulled her phone out her pocket and grinned.

Pike matched her grin with his own, feeling playful, “Wherever you wanna go, I’m up for it.”

It had been four months since Isabella had heard words that changed her perception of men. ‘Wherever you wanna go, I’m up for it.” The accountant really had thought he was just giving her cheesy lines, which was sweet in a way. Marcus Pike was a man who followed through no matter if it was a promised phone call, a random lunch arriving at her office or a flirty FaceTime when he was at the office late. Time with him was well spent and always enjoyable. She never felt embarrassed by him and he seemed to find everything she did did cute which he told her often. By contrast, he was growing in a beard and mustache that looked sexy on him. It wasn’t too little and not too much, just right. She usually ended up touching it while they were out at dinner or matching movies at home as he touched her thighs.

Pike always made a point to have her climax at least once if not twice before entering her and chasing his own high. Izzy wondered what he might like but she felt a bit embarrassed about asking him, though anyone with any sense would instruct you to just ask. That was easy. Izzy never did things easy, it was not her way. Instead, she shopped around for a sheer midnight blue teddy with a matching crotchless thong. She had told Marcus to come by after work, shower and relax. He had been working a complex case with a few museums including the Smithsonian and how to coordinate the return of different pieces without pissing different countries off. She didn’t quite get the intricacies of it, but it sounded stressful. The office worker also had bought some handcuffs and a few candles that melt into oil and lube that she could massage him with or use to fuck him with. “This will be fun!” She exclaimed, hearing a knock downstairs followed by her phone ringing. He was here.

It wasn’t unusual for Pike to stay over at Izzy’s brownstone, it was much more comfortable that his studio apartment that was close to work, but cozy, as Izzy had put it. She had four bedrooms, one was an office, one was her master bedroom with a large walk-in shower that they had made very good use of, especially that built in bench seat. He relished in her pleasure, especially after she let it slip that she had only been able to climax using toys before. Marcus wouldn’t have that, plus hearing her scream his name made him want to grab her, twist her, make her more moist each time he heard it. He was greeted by his girlfriend answering the door in her black satin robe. He knew what the robe meant. “Hey babe. Sorry I’m so late.”

“You don’t need to apologize. I’m just glad you’re here Marcus.” Izzy kissed his lips softly, touching his cheek, her fingers trailing down to his jaw and poking his Adam’s apple. “You want to eat first or shower?” She asked, there was chicken Alfredo she could warm up for him.

“I’m gonna shower first, I feel stuffy from being in that office all day, you joining me?” The agent asked, dropping his bag after closing the door. One hand went to her hip, rubbing a circle to touch her thigh and ass while he kissed her shoulder. A soft sigh was heard from her lips so he then took a handful of her ass and squeezed. He heard a gasp and kissed her neck, clearly anticipating her joining him.

Though she was tempted, Izzy would stick to her plan. “No, no. You shower first and the pop into the bedroom. I thought of something for you.” She smiled, putting her ands on her hips before walking away and heading upstairs. Pike, stunned, picked up his bag and followed his love upstairs and quickly hopped in the shower. The last time she said she had something planned for him, she showed up at his office late saying she missed him and sucked his dick while he lied to his coworker and told him that he would lock up. Marcus fucked his girlfriend was in the bathroom. She enjoyed watching him struggle to keep a composed face, smirking up at him. It was then that Pike made sure that no one was in the office and his door was locked so he could bend her over the desk, slapped her ass before fingering her and plunging himself into her wetness as he spread her legs, her moans making him cry out her name. He left bruises on her thighs that night, ones that she told him not to say sorry for as she had enjoyed every moment. Isabella was also the same woman that held him and went with him to the hospital when his father had his stroke, thankfully he was able to recover mostly, but it wasn’t how he wanted to introduce her to his parents. He wanted to it be a nice family dinner. Not in a hospital room. But she was perfect throughout, making his mother nudge him and ask why he hadn’t brought her around yet.

While Pike was in the shower, Izzy was taking deep breaths, She went ahead and lit her candle and set condoms, handcuffs, but she didn’t have a blindfold. Hearing the water stop, she grabbed one of her scarfs and met him at the bathroom door, planting a kiss on him and wrapping her arms around his neck, standing on her tip-toes and put the scarf around his eyes. “Iz…what the hell?” Pike asked, chuckling. He never knew what to expect from this woman.

“I told you, a surprise. It starts now, so follow me.” She giggled and lead him toward the bed and sat him down, then pulled him close so his head rested on her breasts. She slipped off her robe and let it drop on the floor. Marcus’ arms wrapped around her back, he pressed his chest into her soft belly.

“Mmm…Should I be extremely worried or just quietly concerned?” He asked placing a small kiss between her ample breasts before nibbling on them.

Izzy licked her lips. “Neither, just listen to me and do what I tell you. I’m going to make sure to come first tonight Marcus. If you feel odd or uncomfortable about anything, just say…” Izzy paused to think of a word. “Rose.” She patted his head and took one of his hands and ran it upper her inner thigh. “You feel it Marcus? It’s been like this since you called me at your late lunch, hours Marcus…” She cooed, using one of her fingers to push his middle finger along her wet slit. Her legs widened a bit as Marcus slipped his finger in further, stroking her as he grew harder in his boxers.

“God damn woman….Tell me how you want me.” Marcus staggered, Izzy pushed him back on the bed and commanded him to scoot toward the head of the bed. He didn’t feel her get on the bed immediately, it felt like she was fiddling with something. “Izzy, what are you…” He was going to ask but she grabbed his wrists and cuffed them behind his head, kissing his lips again desperate for contact Pike lurched forward as she pulled back, panting. “Izzy, please….kiss me more.” A soft hand pushed on his chest and circled his nipple, rolling it between her fingers. Pike moaned loudly, struggling against the handcuffs, he needed to touch her, kiss her, caress her, grab her.

“Not yet. I want to watch you more like you watch me Marcus.” Izzy cooed, she released his nipple and slid off his boxers, the agent lifted his hips to make it easier. He bit down on his bottom lip as he whimpered. She hadn’t even touched his dick yet, would he last? Is this how he makes her feel? Anything like this? “Marcus, baby, you still with me? You remember the word right?” He nodded and she followed by asking if he wanted to use it, he shook he head.

“Please, tell me how to want me….Please…” Pike begged. Izzy loved the sight of the man who often made her hoarse for work the next day in a puddle go pleasure. His cock was wet with precum. She wanted to ride him them, but she would need his help for stability and she wanted to toy with him a bit more. Instead, she chose to remove her scarf and kiss his forehead, then straddled his lower torso so her ass would be rubbing against his hardness. “Fuck Iz….You haven’t told me to do anything yet.” He whined, which was true it was torture.

“Keep still.” Izzy commanded, bouncing her ass against his cock, smearing his fluid on her ass. She was kissing down his face to his Adam’s apple, biting it with her teeth before licking it. His hips buckled up in response and she bit his shoulder, “I said keep still.” Pike nodded and did his best, but he was failing the longer it went on, as she moved down, her hips did as well and her moist entrance was met with his hard cock, rubbing each other as she started to moan as well.

“Isabella please….” It was rare Marcus used her entire name, he was quite serious when he did. Izzy then reached for the candle and dripped the hot substance over his chest. Marcus yelped as his body shivered from both the heat and pleasure, Izzy started rubbing it into his skin, his chest, stomach and his arms, she used both hands to give special attention to his thighs, the dark hairs, tickling her fingers. Marcus did his best to remain still but his body was shaking, throbbing to release. “Please let me cum…” He asked out of sheer desperation.

Isabella sat back on the bed, admiring the sight of a spanning, sweating, lubed Marcus. She thought of taking a picture, but decided against it. She just soaked in the image. “Marcus, you think you can continue to stay still while I take care of you?” She asked, reaching for a towel that she had on a dresser, she wiped down his penis, his fingernails pressing into his palms. He nodded, but after she finished wiping, she flicked his shaft, causing him to make and audible grunt. “I need to hear an answer.” She stated, her finger tracing the veins along his shaft.

“Y-Yes, I can stay still. I’ll d-d-do my best. Please Izzy….honey…” He whimpered. Satisfied, Izzy ran her tongue from the base of his cock to her head, rolling her tongue around his head before sucking a little, not too much. Marcus did well in remaining still for the most part, but once she had his head between her lips, his hips buckled. He realized his mistake and quickly apologized, “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again….please your sweet lips, let me cum…” She reached down with a free hand and pinched the skin of his testicles, before taking his girth into her mouth bobbing her head up and down while she rolled his balls between her fingers. Marcus screamed trying to resist the urge to buck his hips with her mouth, he was trying and failing, but this time she didn’t stop. Izzy used her teeth to lightly graze the skin of his head before rolling her her tongue around it, without warning, Marcus shot ribbons into her mouth as she shrugged to swallow, but downed as much she could, she did end up choking a little. In-between his breathy heaves, Marcus asked if she was ok and if she could uncuff him, he needed to know if she was okay. As Izzy took deep breaths she handed him the key, he un-cuffed himself and took her in his arms, rubbing her back. Her coughing calmed as he cradled her, kissing her forehead.

She looked up at him, her mouth with traces of him on it, “Did you enjoy yourself Marcus?” She asked, he was dumbfounded. What made her think he didn’t? His kissed her lips softly before grabbing a tissue to wipe them and himself off.

“You always surprise the hell out of me Isabella. I fucking loved it. How’d you think of that?” He asked genuinely wondering. She had never mentioned anything like this before.

“I tried to think of what you might do. You aways seem to watch me and be studying me each time Marcus, plus I thought the candle would be a nice touch.” She giggled, nuzzling into his chest. Marcus pulled her on top of him so her legs were spread, She yelped as her bit at the top of her teddy ripping it, Izzy grabbed it and help it to herself though it only covered one of her breasts. “M-Marcus!” His mouth enveloped one of her nipples as he sucked and tugged on it, he reached up and took the torn teddy from her, the grip she had on it loosened considerably. His other hand trailed down her belly which he loved to pat, she swatted his hand away and to strode further down until reaching her slick lips, running a finger over each of them as he parted them. “W-Wait… you’re not supposed to move…” She stated weakly. He was no longer cuffed and non-compliant to her demands. Pike pushed her on her back just as she had done with him, however he took hold of her ankles and held her legs up, closing her thighs around his penis which was half erect. He was the one teasing her now, running his dick back and forth against her entrance knowing he wouldn’t enter her. “Fuck…Marcus…” She cried, grabbing onto the sheets of the bed. After a few more pumps he opened her legs and pulled back, the cool air hitting her wet lips and causing her to moan. He positioned her knees on his shoulders, she knew what came next, her body tensed, but Pike just blew a kiss toward her folds, watching her, watch him as he smiled. “What are you doing down there?!” Izzy yelled indignant. How dare he just sit there? He was in position.

Marcus was loving seeing her mad, it was perfect. He was being a bit petty for what just happened, but she also did choke on his cum, eh, it was fair. His face lurched forward and kissed her thigh before using his teeth to bite her, then lick it again. He would make sure she thought about him again while she was typing at her desk in a meeting, just like he did when she left scratches on his back. What he wouldn’t do to her to make her think of him when they were apart. His lips gently pecked her clit as he felt her knees buckle, then flicked it with his tongue, he could make her climax from just her clit, but he decided to start twirling his fingers, slipped into her cunt and turn them, not pump them. Izzy cried out his name and he smiled and a dark laugh left his lips as tongue flicked again on her clit, her hips were moving where his fingers weren’t so he pulled them back out and took a hand from her knee and smacked her ass. “Not yet, you have to stay still.” He mocked her mischievously and inserted one finger. Izzy growled, wanting more, but gave in and remained still and he slowly pumped her and forming an ‘o’ with his lips around her clit, she really did try hard not to move, but she always seem to be moving, even when she was still. It was one of the many things Marcus loved about her. He removed his finger again and replaced it with his tongue, flicking around her walls as they closed around him, his nose rubbing her clit as his eyes met hers.

“Shit, I’m almost there….Marcus!” Izzy yelled, but Marcus pulled away from her, licking his lips, she looked up at him and he leaned over her, moving up his body. “You…you…damn it…” She seethed, once was bad enough, but twice?! Izzy pinched his cheeks as he laughed, she only saw one of his hands though. Marcus used the other one to position himself at her moist sex, his tip already in, she felt him spreading her ever so much, but he stopped again. “Marcus please, let me move or fuck me…” She asked grabbing his shoulders and pulling him closer to her, he slid into her and filed her, stinging slightly as he normally preps her more. She leaned into his ear, “I didn’t move my hips this time.” The office manager felt like she had a win, he had edged her a bit too much she thought. Marcus just grinned and kissed her jaw, pulling his hips back so he was halfway out.

He grabbed one of her knees to spread her even more. “No you didn’t but I’ll still fuck you any anyway Izzy.” He smiled before plunging deep into her at an angle, hitting the very back of her canal, he felt her shudder and scream his name as she came, but he leaned down, sucked on her neck as he kept pulling in and out of her at a steady pace, she wanted him to go faster, but he was dragging it out, he was going to torture her. He even slowed down when he was withdrawing from her fully and plunging deep into her again, grabbing her hips this time. Her loud moans spured him on, the louder she became the harder he fucked her until his felt his cock start to swell again. Izzy wrapped her legs around him and Marcus panicked for a minute knowing that he had been a bit too eager and didn’t put a condom on.

“It’s fine, I’m on my pills pour into me Agent Pike.” She moaned, feeling herself nearly ready to come again. Marcus turned her on her back again and hungrily kissed her lips. Slapping his thighs with hers, he grabbed one of her breasts and rolled her nipple.

“You call me Marcus, Izzy….Fuck you’re so tight.” Marcus groaned. Spreading his thick seed into her, Izzy cried from he heat as her walls sucked his cum out of him, they arched into each other, their bodies sticky and wet from each other. Marcus kissed from Izzy’s forehead down to her shoulder and that mole he had seen when he first saw her sleeping in that office. He went to move, but she held onto him.

“Marcus, don’t move yet, just stay. Please.” Izzy said quietly into his shoulder, not looking up at him. Marcus brushed some of her hair off out her face and nodded pecking her lips. Eventually, the pair went to the bathroom and freshened up and changed the sheets before getting into bed naked. “Normally I only change the sheets before you come not after.” Izzy remarked, she used humor for when she was a bit uncomfortable. Pike wrapped his arms around her as they got in bed, she turned to face him. She held his hand after giving his ass a little squeeze. Marcus laughed.

“You never did tell me how you wanted me other than to stay still Iz.” Marcus asked, teasing her a little. Izzy faked a pout and lifted his hand to kiss it.

“I want you just like this, here with me.” Marcus kissed her lips as she laid her head on his chest, his hand rubbed her back, she drifted off to sleep.

“I don’t wanna be anywhere else.” Agent Pike slipped into a deep slumber, never forgetting the warmth on his chest.

[leatafandom]

I posted 4,562 times in 2022

That's 1,555 more posts than 2021!

110 posts created (2%)

4,452 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@rich-a-day

@idabbleincrazy

@ldrmas

@datajana

@quicksilver-castiel

I tagged 2,570 of my posts in 2022

Only 44% of my posts had no tags

#sam winchester - 247 posts

#sabriel - 221 posts

#gabriel spn - 127 posts

#❤️❤️ - 121 posts

#spooky season - 92 posts

#🤣🤣 - 88 posts

#richard speight jr - 80 posts

#amazing - 70 posts

#gabriel - 70 posts

#dean winchester - 53 posts

Longest Tag: 123 characters

#i try to be a detective and then realize its 5 in the morning and ive been trollif tumblr for hours so not a good reference

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Sabriel - jamming out to the radio at midnight? What are they listening to ????? (:

Absolutely dear! Thanks so much for the ask, I’ve honestly been having a bit of writer’s block so it was really fun to write something this weekend! I hope you enjoy it. It took a bit to pick out the songs but I just couldn’t help myself with the first one. I ended up going with two: Heat of the Moment by Asia and Never Wanted to Dance by MSI. I love picturing some stress relief dancing fun for them. Happy reading! I hope you enjoy it and thanks again!❤️

Tags: established relationship, comfort, fluff with a little angst, date night, late night dates, music, night drives, singing and dancing, Sam Winchester needs to have some fun

Summary: Sometimes Sam gets lost in the cases and the hustle of all the new hunters in the world. Sometimes he forgets to breathe and remembers to have fun. 

Dancing in the Dark

"Come on, Samalamb." 

Sam tilted his head away from his laptop screen, combing his hand back through his hair, and looking at Gabriel's outstretched hand and then the archangel attached to it.

"Gabe, I'm busy." 

"No, you're not." The blonde shook his head, his hand staying outstretched between them. "You're getting nowhere." His lips twisted in a grimace at his own bluntness. "Come on, Sammich, up up up. Come and stretch those gorgeous gams with me."

Sam released a wearily chuckle before sighing. He sat back in his chair, his eyes roving over the books and notes scattered for three different hunts around him, wondering what time it was, before landing back on the archangel's mischievous amber eyes. The taller man narrowed his own eyes, scrutinizing the archangel's expression. The archangel impatiently bounced his brows and grabbed Sam's arm when his lover stared just a hair too long and hard at him, the teasing action startling a laugh from Sam's lips. 

"Jeez!" Gabriel groaned, wrapping his hand around Sam's, pulling him from the chair he'd been in all day. "Come on, like I'm trying to lure you to your death." 

"It would not be the first time…" the brunette grumbled under his breath, giving into his partner's grip. 

"Oh ouch Sammoose," Gabriel huffed, feigning hurt. “You know, maybe I just wanna fuck."

"If you wanted to have sex…" Sam's words faded as he rose from his chair with an exaggerated stretch that felt better than it should. "Then we'd already be in our room," he added around a groan when his spine popped. 

Amber eyes couldn’t resist the shift of Sam’s muscles under his clothes. His eyes snapped back to Sam’s smug smile and knowing gaze when the long arms dropped from above Sam's head to swing at his sides. 

"Also very true," the archangel admitted without hesitation, his fingers interlocking with Sam's before leading him from the library and towards the garage. 

"Where are we going?" Sam questioned, self-consciously combing his fingers through his scraggly beard, wondering if he could sum up the energy to shave.

"A drive." Gabriel slipped his hand into his pocket, fishing out a set of keys before tossing them over his shoulder to the bruttnete. 

"A drive?" Sam asked as he fumbled for the keys, juggling them before securing them in his hand with a raised brow. 

"Driving relaxes you," the shorter man replied casually. "So,” his eyes looked about the garage as they entered it, avoiding looking at the hunter behind him, “we're going to drive somewhere." 

Sam felt something give within his chest, squeezing his hand around Gabriel’s, his eyes roving over the blonde. Whiskey eyes were focused elsewhere, ignoring the soft expression the other was surely giving him from behind, focused on guiding the taller male towards the truck that matched the keys. The brunette looked away from Gabriel towards the keys in his hand as they stopped in front of an old pickup, a smile teasing on his skeptical lips. 

"And where exactly are we driving to?" 

"Somewhere," Gabriel sang with a grin, pulling him down for a kiss. 

The blonde pulled back with a wink, turning from the tall hunter to slide into the passenger side of the old pickup truck. Sam rolled his eyes, his lips pulled into a frown that was threatening to crack into a smile. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam said around a sigh, opening the driver’s side door and taking his seat. 

The archangel laughed, smiling as he rolled down his window before bending over the brunette’s lap once Sam had closed his door. Sam shifted under the archangel’s reach as the other rolled down his window. 

“We have fun!” Gabriel beamed, leaning back from between Sam and the wheel before scooting closer to Sam’s side as the tense human started the engine with a chuckle. 

The late summer air, which smelled of grass fields and fresh rain, was more relaxing than Sam would ever admit. The more they drove the more the hunter was grateful for the fresh breeze that rolled through the cab. The breeze carried the music that had his fingers tapping along to the radio and his partner’s singing. Throughout the drive, Gabriel sang along with the radio getting Sam to join in and inserted directions at seemingly random moments. 

With the archangel’s choice in stations and dancing beside him, Sam easily let the stream of endless hunts fall from his mind and the worries that waited further and further behind them. The sound of the truck’s rumbling engine and Gabriel's warm wiggling body beside him soothed his worried mind. Sam's tense broad shoulders relaxed and leaned back, his right hand had long found the archangel's somewhere along the drive and squeezed the archangel's hand. The hunter leaned closer to the shorter blonde on the cushions of their seat, singing along with Gabriel’s jovial tone to the pop song as they drove down the dark back roads that surrounded the bunker. 

"Right up there, and you'll see it." Gabriel's hand squeezed his, a smirk tugging on his lips. 

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22 notes - Posted September 3, 2022

#4

Ooh #63 would make a great Sabriel (cuz we just know Gabe is a noisy lil fuck in bed, right?)

Yes! These words were made for Gabriel! I have no idea why this fic took so long to come to me, but I finally give you smut! Thank you so much for the ask and understanding that the muse works in mysterious smutty ways. 😂 Happy Reading ❤️

Rated: Explicit

Tags: smut, anal sex, bet, kissing, on the sofa, hand jobs, plot what plot, Gabriel is a screamer

The Easiest Bet

"This is a stupid bet." Sam sighed, his arms crossed over his chest, as he looked down at his partner as the archangel lounged on the TV room's couch. Sam shifted his stance in front of him. "You cannot hate my movies that much." 

The archangel rolled his eyes, stretching out more across the two-seater. "I assure you I do hate your documentaries that much, Sammykins," Gabriel reassured with a roll of his wrist. "Somehow they are more boring than actually living it. Come on, Sammoose. First one to make a noise loses and the winner gets to pick what we watch for a month."  

Sam shook his head, a crooked smile weaseling its way onto his lips. He ducked his head, looking down. "There is no way you would win that bet, Gabe. You have to know that right? Do you even realize how loud you always are?" Sam asked with a wave of his hand.

"Hey," Gabriel cried, pointing a finger at him and sitting up a bit on the sofa. "I can be quiet if I want to be! Overconfident moose," Gabriel huffed, his lips pulling into a scowl. 

The brunette bit his lip trying to stifle his laughter. "Gabriel, I have spent my whole life living with someone. Mostly Dean," Sam said, tucking his chin to his chest trying to control his amusement. "And Cas normally has to soundproof our room so Dean doesn't have a stroke." He let out a chuckle looking at his partner just as Gabriel rolled his eyes waving a dismissive hand at him. "There is no way you can stay quiet longer than me." 

"I can be quiet, Winchester." The blonde shifted, sitting up fully on the sofa. "Especially if it means I don't have to watch a single documentary for a month." 

Sam sighed, running a hand through his locks, looking to the bunker hallway as he thought about it. "Make it two months," he said looking back at Gabriel with a wide smile, knowing he couldn't talk his boyfriend out of it and that he would definitely win. "I'll do it if the winner picks for two months." 

"Deal." Gabriel's grin widened, his brows bouncing. 

"First one to make noises loses?" Sam questioned, bending down over the sofa and pressing a kiss to the blonde's grinning lips. 

The archangel leaned into the teasing press of lips, his fingers reaching to stroke through Sam's beard. "Yes, Samheart."

Sam chuckled against his lips, pressing the shorter man back into the cushions and deepening the kiss. Gabriel smiled into it, wrapping his hand around Sam's nape to keep him close, parting his lips. The brunette's tongue slid into his lover's mouth as his hands rolled down Gabriel's sides, lifting him with ease and sliding onto the sofa to take the shorter man's space on the couch. 

Gabriel let out a silent gasp as Sam's long arms wrapped around him and pulled him into his lap, straddling him. Large hands quickly slid Gabriel's jacket off before working his shirt off. The archangel bit his lip, breaking the kiss to help take his shirt and jacket off, his hips grinding down on Sam's half-hard member. Sam licked over his lips at the feeling of Gabriel's round jean-clad ass grinding down on his hardening length. He rocked up to him, his hands going to Gabriel's belt wanting to feel him. 

The shorter man's lips were on him again the moment they were free from their shirts, rocking his hips and lifting them as Sam shoved down his pants and boxers. The blonde sucked and bit at Sam's neck, his eyes flashing with grace as their clothes vanished, biting down on the tender clave of skin at Sam's neck to stop himself from moaning at the feel of Sam's hardening flesh pressed bare against him. 

Sam's hips rutted at the feeling of smooth skin against him, his hands clenching around Gabriel's gyrating hips. His eyes closed at the hard bite and the soothing suckling of his lover's lips that went right to his groin swallowing back a hiss of delight. Hazel eyes rolled behind his lids, his hands clenching at Gabriel's ample cheeks spreading them and biting back a moan at the feeling of his already prepared opening. Gabriel shuddered, pressing his face to Sam's neck as he gripped Sam's long cock squeezing him and stroking him in his hand. The brunette bit harder on his lip, holding in a grunt when Gabriel's hand was on him, cursing internally at his lover's perfectly tight grip. 

The archangel pulled back with a smirk, looking over Sam's heaving chest as he stroked him into fullness. He grinned as Sam rutted into his hand before lifting his hips and hovering over the thick member as it throbbed in his hand. The hunter held tight to his hips watching as Gabriel sank down on him, huffing out a heated breath through his nose as Gabriel took all of his length in with slow torturous rolls of his hips. The blonde withheld a whine at the slow pace, knowing any faster and he'd cry out. He bit his lips as his fingers clenched on Sam's broad shoulders only to gasp a breathless silent moan when Sam rutted up into him, forcing the archangel to take all of him with one smooth roll of his hips. 

The blonde's head rolled forward, shuddering at a breath barely containing his cry when Sam held tighter to the archangel's waist, holding him still and burying himself inside of the wet canal. Gabriel shuddered at the easy stretch and burn of Sam's thick shaft relishing in the sudden fullness, wanting to cry out. He held tighter to Sam, determined to be quiet even when the taller man found his prostate. Sam licked his lips, his cock rubbing against the bundle of nerves with his every upward thrust. 

Gabriel clenched around him, biting down harder on his lips as Sam drilled into him, moving with him. Sam panted, pressing open mouth kisses against the smooth sunkissed skin, his eyes rolling at the clenching walls of his lover. His hips moved in tandem with each roll of Gabriel's, the archangel clenching tighter around him with his efforts to keep quiet in the face of the brunette's punishing pace. Gabriel's head rolled, his nails scraping at Sam's shoulders and back, rocking with each of Sam's thrusts, his cock bouncing and aching between them. 

Sam's head went back, not knowing if he could stay quiet with the delicious warmth wrapped around him. He wasn't going to lose. An idea struck him as he watched the archangel bite back his cries. A smirk pulled on Sam's lips, wrapping an arm tight around Gabriel’s hips and pulling from him with a silent gasp. Gabriel couldn't hold back his whine at the sudden loss or the cry that was forced from his lips when Sam bent him over the arm of the sofa. The taller man lined his thick head against his rim from behind him before shoving back inside of him in one long smooth thrust. 

"Fuck!"

Sam let out a low guttural groan, his smile wide as he thrusted relentlessly into Gabriel. "Dumbest bet," he said around a moan, wrapping his hand around Gabriel's leaking cock.

"Goddamnit, your cock feels so good,"  

Gabriel groaned, admitting defeat and sinking fully into the spikes of bliss that racked through his vessel. "Shit right there, Sammy," he hissed. His hands gripped tight to the arm his chest was pressed against, bucking his hips back to him as Sam rocked into him, his head hanging. "So fucking good." 

The brunette smirked his left hand holding tight to Gabriel's hip, losing his rhythm quickly when the blonde let his moans run free. "Fuck, I love your voice, " Sam grunted out, bending over him more and slamming his hips faster. "Love it when you scream for me." 

Gabriel let out a low groan at the heated words as Sam's hand stroked his cock faster. "Gonna cum… Fuck Sam don't stop." His hips rocked between the thrusting length and the tight fist around his weeping member. 

Sam nodded against him, grunting out his agreement as he thrusted into the fluttering warmth around him, cumming with a choked-off moan against Gabriel's back. The archangel's hips jerked as Sam stiffened behind him, his orgasm hitting him hard as Sam's thumb dragged over his wet tip, cumming over his lover's hand with a shout and a curse. 

See the full post

23 notes - Posted August 21, 2022

#3

"The couple's first morning together was spent in relative ease. Gabriel relaying his plan to take Sam into the sleepy town not far from the cabin before their hike over breakfast. A town which the archangel had introduced with flair as they bundled up in their winter gear as new.

Sam rolled his eyes at Gabriel's dramatics regarding the small town down the mountain as they walked out of the door. He narrowed his eyes, pulling out his phone as he followed Gabriel's confident stride. Sam fell into step beside the archangel as he looked up the small town's founding on the long walk into town from Gabriel's house.

Sam huffed. "Gabriel," Sam rolled his eyes, turning his screen towards the archangel. "1838 is not new."

The archangel's arms swung gently back and forth at his sides. "It's new, Sammy," Gabriel said with a dismissive roll of his eyes, not bothering to look at Sam's phone.

Sam looked back down at the article. "It's not even a town! It's a village," Sam added, looking back at the shrugging archangel.

Gabriel turned to him, squinting at Sam in the morning light and his moose decorated and fur-lined ushanka. "Fine, it's a new village," Gabriel snarked, waving his left hand in the air between them.

"No." Sam shook his head, looking around the wooded path. "No, I don't care if you are as old as time, the 1830s is not new."

Gabriel scoffed, his head snapping to look at Sam. "I am not as old as time!" He huffed, his left hand gently swatting at Sam's bicep.

Sam laughed, raising his hands and bending away from Gabriel's playful wacks. "Fine," Sam relented, pushing his phone and hands into his coat pockets. "Even if you're slightly younger than time-"

"Jeez, make a celestial feel all his eons," Gabriel interjected with a dramatic roll of his wrist and eyes.

"The 1830s is not new, Gabe."

"The 1830s is new," Gabriel repeated, pointing a finger at him. "Time is relative, Sam-I-am."

Sam shook his head, huffing out a dry amused laugh. "Yeah. Uh-huh. Whatever you say, old man," Sam said around his teasing laughter, turning to Gabriel with a crooked grin as they walked. "Take me to this crazy new-fangled town of theirs."

"Wiseguy," Gabriel said, narrowing his eyes with a grin and checking his shoulder against Sam's side."

Preview from Chapter Seven of Seasonal Healing, Clear Night's and Story Horizons, coming to my Ao3 this weekend.

26 notes - Posted January 26, 2022

#2

A Little Pick Me Up

Rated: E

Ship: Sam Winchester/Gabriel

Tags: Human Au, shameless smut, prompt fic, established relationship, lazy mornings, blow jobs, Gabriel's just not a morning person

Author Notes: Created for @idabbleincrazy prompt request for characters waking up together “breakfast in bed?" “define breakfast." Look what the muse remembered and finally unexpectedly finished! I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for sending the ask (hopefully I finish the other one soon as well) <3

A Little Pick Me Up

Sam smiled against his pillow, pulling his lover closer. The muffled grumble he received caused a chuckle to rumble free from his chest and his long arms to wrap more securely around the tempting hips. 

"Morning," Sam mumbled, kissing the top of Gabriel's head. 

"Morning is a subjective term, Sammoose." The shorter man’s eyes hesitated to open. Managing only to crack open one when Sam continued to bury his face in the crook of his neck and searched blindly for his phone. "Ugh, Sammy! It's not even seven in the morning." The older man groaned at the time that blazed from his too-bright screen, slamming it back down and closing his eye. 

Sam let out his own huff of frustration at his partner as Gabriel buried himself back against him, twisting around and burying his face in his chest. The brunette knew that the blonde enjoyed his sleep on the days he had off but the college student still had classes and Gabriel had promised to spend the day with him.

“You said you’d come with me today,” he reminded, stretching beside him before tightening his long arms around the curled-up man. 

“Not before seven in the morning, Samwise.”

The taller man rolled his eyes at the muffled reply, releasing a hum when he felt Gabriel’s lazy mouth drag across his bare skin. "Yes, you did. You said we’d carpool and I have a morning class, Gabe," Sam replied, resisting the urge to close his eyes as the blonde’s lips left lazy-open-mouth kisses over one of his nipples before making their way up his chest and over his collar bone. 

“That’s entrapment, lawyer boy,” Gabriel teased as large hands held tighter to his boxer-clad hips, pressing his morning wood against Sam. “I never would have agreed if I had remembered my day off was Wednesday this week.” 

Sam’s hazel eyes closed, pressing closer to him, at the firm outline of Gabriel’s thick erection, and his distracting lips as they traveled over his neck. “You weren’t that tired when I asked.” He countered feeling Gabriel whine against his skin. 

"Too early, Sammykins." He rebutted weakly, leaning back to look up at Sam, rolling his hips tantalizingly. "Where's my pick me up, Winchester?" He questioned with a wide grin, running his hand up Sam’s flexing arm and squeezing his bicep. 

"Seriously?" Sam’s head tilted back slightly with his laugh, unable to resist the press of Gabriel's clothed length against him. 

"Yes, seriously. You know I don't function this early without a little something, somethin’," Gabriel said with a yawn that may have been fake. 

The brunette sighed, laying his head in the crook of his elbow, letting his eyes wander Gabriel’s body as the blonde stretched. He turned his head, glancing at the time before turning fully back to his lover, letting his eyes rove his barely clothed body.

"Breakfast in bed?" 

Gabriel's eyes glistened with mischief, his eyebrows bouncing. “Define breakfast, Sammy boy."

The taller released a chuckle at his boyfriend’s lecherous smirk. “A liquid one. Where only I eat something.” He hummed as Gabriel wrapped an arm around his neck pulling him closer. 

“Color me intrigued,” Gabriel hummed, capturing Sam’s lips in a kiss before rolling onto his back and pulling the brunette with him. 

Sam released a soft grunt against his lips, pulling back to leave a trail of lazy sucking marks down Gabriel’s chest. The blonde released a pleased hum, his fingers tangling in his partner’s brown hair as Sam worked his way lower. Long fingers coasted over Gabriel’s arching sides before slipping into the rim of his boxers. Sam’s tongue traced slowly over the line of Gabriel’s pubic bone as the older man lifted his hips and pushed down his boxers. Sam pulled back slightly to help free the hardened member, letting his lips graze over the heated flesh. 

Gabriel let out a guttural groan at the first touch of Sam’s soft lips, feeling his tongue dash out to trace the pulsing vein of his aching erection. His hips rolled before Sam’s hand could hold them in place. The brunette stayed beneath their sheets as he dragged his tongue up Gabriel’s shaft, rolling his tongue around his tip before sinking down on him. Slim fingers clenched in brown hair, stopping himself from rutting into the welcoming warmth. His eyes closed as he bit his lip with a curse as Sam sank lower. His toes curled as Sam’s tongue twisted around his base before he pulled his head back.

“Shit,” Gabriel cursed, his hips rolling as Sam’s lips wrapped around his thick base. “I’ll never get used to that mouth, kid.” 

Sam groaned around him, bobbing his head faster on the hardened shaft. Gabriel’s eyes open, pushing back the sheets to watch Sam as he worked his cock. He groaned at the sight of his lips split around his swollen shaft.  

“Wanna fuck your throat, Sam.” 

Gabriel groaned as Sam’s hand shifted, letting go of his hips and letting the man rut up into his mouth with a punched-out moan. Sam held still as his lover’s hands tightened in his hair, his jaw lax against the drag of his lover’s cock against his tongue. The blonde licked over his lips with a breathless moan when he felt Sam’s throat convulse around his tip, his eyes rolling to the gagging younger man. His hips slowed slightly before speeding up once more, trying to go easy on his lover’s throat. Sam held tight to him, his eyes watering as he moaned around the heavy cock. His right hand reached, shoving into his sleep pants and wrapped around himself, squeezing his aching shaft. Gabriel panted, watching Sam’s arms flex to keep himself up and jack himself off. 

“Fuck, Sam,” Gabriel’s head tilted, planting his feet and rolling his hips harder up into Sam’s spread lips. His eyes drank in the sight of his lover working himself and leaking into his fist. “Are you gonna cum just from sucking me off?” Gabriel questioned breathlessly, his eyes fluttering closed when Sam responded by creating more suction around his thrusting shaft. “God, do that again,” he hissed, his hips rutting faster, holding Sam’s head down longer. “That’s it Sammy. Show me how you cum from the taste of me.” 

See the full post

28 notes - Posted August 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

''you used me as a pillow." ''sorry.'' or “breakfast in bed?" “define breakfast."

Thank you so much for the ask love! I actually had an idea for both but I'm just not really happy with "breakfast in bed" "define breakfast." Maybe I'll post it at some point, it is a Sabriel, but Spideypool completely consumed the first one. It's been so long since I wrote them. I miss them and even as short and angsty it is, it was really nice to find some inspiration for them again.

Heartbeat

A sudden loud thumping roused Peter from his fitful sleep. He groaned, nuzzling his cheek against the kevlar of Deadpool's suit before his eyes snapped open. His ears filled with the triumphant sound.

"Wade?" His head lifted, pulling his arms from around the bulker man, pushing himself up onto his elbows. "Wade?!"

Wade groaned, a grumble sounding from under Peter as the other pushed himself up from the blood spattered man, both still in their suits.

"Not so loud, baby boy. Head wounds are like the worst hangover." His eyes blinked behind his mask trying to remember what they had been doing and where they most likely were.

His eyes roved around the familiar safe house that was more safe than a house. Wade's hand raised to feel over his masked head before raising it to look down at Peter's unmasked face hovering above him and the concern edge in his brown eyes. His eyes roved over his best friend taking in the press of Peter against him and the other's torn suit.

"Sooo. No judgment, baby boy, but you used me as a pillow?"

Peter's eyes widened, leaning back and distancing himself a bit before looking over his blood covered suit. "Sorry," he mumbled, unsure if he was talking to Wade or his ruined suit.

"You don't gotta be sorry, but clarity would be nice." He shifted more, feeling his bones finish snapping back into place. Wade watched him looking over the causal self-consciousness. "You used my lifeless bloody corpse as a pillow?" Wade's voice hitched watching the other shrug.

"I didn't want to leave you," Peter defended, crossing his arms over his chest and looking over the other's damaged suit.

The brunette hadn't really thought about it. He had already been tired after pulling an all nighter and that was before almost being blown up by a giant space squid and dragging Wade back here. All Peter had wanted was to sleep and hear the steady thumping again after falling asleep to silence.

"Everyone was leaving so… I swung us here. And it's not like you have a lot of pillow options." His brown eyes roved around the warehouse turned living area with a wave of his hand before looking back at Wade. "I thought we could hang out after you… woke up." Peter finished lamely, never used to watching Wade die after Gwen.

"Petey?" Wade's head tilted on the worn mattress beneath him, his hairless brows furrowing under his mask. "I'm okay. I'm always okay."

Peter scoffed in disagreement, shaking his head weakly.

Wade shifted, reaching his gloved hand for his cheek. "You can hear it right?" Wade asked, his hand coming up to pull him back down to rest his ear back over his beating heart.

Peter nodded, slowly leaning back to his broad chest, settling back against him. Wade cradled Peter's head as his other arm wrapped around the younger man's back. Peter held tighter to him with a smile, closing his eyes and heaving a deep inhale at the strong unique sound of Wade Wilson's heartbeat.

"Yeah. I can hear it, Wade"

46 notes - Posted July 10, 2022

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[dw-squirrel]

Ice Skating

A short debriel story-

Alternate Universe • Romance • a little drama • almost tragedy • happy ending.

Ice skating. It was how they met. Gabriel Novak had been the guy that laughed when Dean Winchester fell. But then helped him up a moment later. He couldn't help it, when he saw the little pouty face the other man made when Gabe laughed, he had to help him.

They were young at the time Dean, 18 and Gabe, 21. They quickly became friends. Meeting at the indoor ice skating rink downtown every weeknight during the summer.

Gabe talked about moving out of state, it was a goal of his to get out of Kansas. The only reason he was still here now was for Dean

"You could come with me. You could move into a cozy apartment nearby. See me everyday," Gabe suggested as they laid together in the grass at the park. Hand in hand, the two stared up at the night sky.

"I can't leave now. Gotta be around for my little brother," Dean replied. He'd considered moving before, but he didn't like the idea of leaving Sam behind. His brother was still in highschool and they lived with their alcoholic father.

"You mean the kid that's taller than you?" Gabe teased.

"Oh, as if your younger brother isn't taller than you too." Dean rolled his eyes.

Gabriel only responded with laughter. That was the end of their conversation. They laid in silence the rest of the night. Comfortable silence, until Dean had fallen asleep. Gabriel carried him to the car and drove him home.

***************************

Ice skating was a suggestion that they used to make when they didn't know what to do with their evening. Even if they weren't out for too long, the night would start with ice skating.

Dean was slowly getting better, he still fell a lot. Gabe would always offer his hand to help him up, though he did snicker a little first.

Ice skating was the suggestion they'd make when the other was having a bad day.

The day John Winchester passed away, it was hard on Dean. For Gabriel though, he tried to comfort his partner.. but he didn't like John at all. He was honestly a little relieved that he wouldn't have to worry about Dean getting hurt again.

But Dean- well Dean cried. It was the first time Gabriel had ever seen Dean cry that hard...and the first time Dean ever allowed someone to be there when he broke down. They spent the night together in the backseat of Dean's 67' Chevy Impala.

Later on, Dean would become Sam's legal guardian and now he had no choice but to stay. Sam needed to finish school, and there was no way he was pulling him out to move to a new state and start over. Sam needed his friends and his life here. So as usual, Dean put Sam first. He just hoped Gabe wouldn't leave...

*********************

Months had passed, Gabriel was getting antsy. He found a job and a place to live in New York. Dean said he'd love to move to New York- but Sam had to finish school first. Gabe sorta expected that answer. He tried to be patient, but he didn't want to lose this opportunity to move away. He wanted to talk to Dean-

They were supposed to go ice skating. But the night they were supposed to go, Dean told Gabe he couldn't make it. He'd gotten sick.

Gabe could still remember the look of shock on Sam Winchester's face when he answered the door hours later to find Gabriel standing there with a six pack of ginger ale and a can of chicken noodle soup.

He wasn't too afraid of getting sick, he had a fairly strong immune system. Instead of ice skating, Gabe spent the night and most of that week helping nurse Dean back to health...

Sam would still remember a few days later, Dean kicking Gabe out of the house after saying- "you know what? You're an ass-" there had been more choice words, but Sam tuned it out. Then sat with Dean while he ate an entire gallon of ice cream and complained about Gabriel. The typical break up scene you'd see in movies.

Sam warned him not to eat the whole thing of ice cream. Dean didn't listen and hours later he had the absolute worst stomachache, and nothing had helped him get over the news that Gabriel had dropped on him earlier that morning.

The day Gabriel left, Dean cried. He promised himself and Gabriel that he wouldn't. But he did. "I can't believe you're leaving me. And- and I can't believe you tricked me into falling for you."

Gabriel smirked. "I didn't trick you into anything. You did the falling yourself, I mean have you seen yourself on the ice?"

He wanted to glare at the other man, he did glare but it only lasted a few seconds before pulling him into a tight hug. "Just promise me we'll be okay."

Since the break up- they ended up getting back together. Gabriel felt like an ass, they had made an agreement to stay in Kansas and wait for Sam to finish school. He saw how reasonable it was and appreciated how much Dean cared about giving Sam the best senior year of high school he could. But Gabriel couldn't wait for spring to move. He wanted to move now.

Dean knew from the beginning that he couldn't keep Gabe here. In the end he would support the other man's decision, even if it hurt. Gabe promised he'd have a home waiting for Dean whenever he was ready to move and that they could do the long distance thing for a while. Dean had never done long distance before and he was terrified. What if Gabriel really was leaving him for good?

If Gabriel was being honest, he would tell Dean that he was expecting this to end the same way any long distance relationship he had ended. They would talk for a few more weeks, the distance would shatter their bond and then they would say goodbye. So no, he couldn't promise they would be okay. He couldn't even promise Dean they'd still be together tomorrow. At least he didn't that day.

His silence was enough to get the message through to Dean. Dean didn't cry, not in front of Gabe anyway. He just hugged a little tighter- in case this was his last time.

*******************

Gabriel had been right about one thing. Their speaking to each other only lasted for a few weeks. But there was never a fight or a phone call saying the distance was too much for Dean to handle. There was only silence on the other end.

There was a time he thought their bond was stronger than this.. but as he laid in bed staring at the dozens of unanswered calls and texts he had started to accept the fact this was over...

Until he received a text from Sam. Frowning he stared at the words- all he read was "Dean" "accident" and "not waking up" his heart felt like it had dropped to the floor.

He hopped on the next flight back to Kansas, meeting Sam at the airport hours later. The younger Winchester explained to him that Dean had been on his way home from work and got in a car accident.

Now- Dean Winchester was a careful driver, usually. He obeyed the traffic laws as long as there wasn't an emergency that he deemed fit as an excuse to break them. He took good care of his 'baby'. The accident wasn't his fault. His car was a wreck though...and he'd been unconscious since the night it happened...

Gabriel sat with Dean, holding his hand. Though Dean didn't see it happen, this would be the first time Gabe ever cried in front of him. "you're not allowed to leave me, Dean-o," he said quietly. His voice cracked with emotion, while he rubbed his thumb along the back of his boyfriend's hand.

"When I left, you asked me to promise you we'd be okay. I didn't know if we would, but now I am begging you, Winchester... please don't leave me. We have to be okay." He laid his head on Dean's arm, the tears still falling. He couldn't remember the last time he'd been this emotional.

He stayed like that for several hours, before hearing a quiet- "I'm not going anywhere."

Relief washed over him. Dean was okay.

********

Days later when Dean was released from the hospital, he received a text from Gabriel, asking to meet at the ice skating rink. Dean thought this was ridiculous. He could barely even walk, he wanted to go home and sleep. But Gabe insisted this was important.

For some reason Sam was on board too. "It's okay, Dean. I think you should go."

Several eye rolls and complaints later, Dean found himself walking into the building with the indoor ice skating rink. The place where he had met Gabe for the first time.

"alright, what was so important that I-" Dean paused mid sentence, finding Gabe in the middle of the ice rink. He was down on one knee, a ring in hand and a banner hanging above him that read "Marry me?"

At first Dean just stared in shock.

"When I moved I thought things were over, but you proved me wrong. You're the only person who surprisingly has never given up on me. When I thought I was going to lose you, well-" he shook his head. "Call me crazy if you want, but I'm ready to spend the rest of my life loving you. In sickness and in health. For better or worse-"

"Will this chick flick end if I say yes?" Dean's words cut off the rest of Gabriel's speech. He tried to joke with him, to hide the fact he had gotten so emotional over this.

"Well that depends, Dean-o," Gabriel replied, getting up and skating over to the wall so he could hold the other man's hand. "If you say yes do you really mean it?" When he got closer he could finally see the fresh set of tears forming in the Winchester's eyes.

"Of course I'll marry you. I couldn't think of anyone better to spend the rest of my life with."

Gabe's cheeks flushed a soft shade of red. "I thought you wanted this chick flick to be over," he teased.

Dean rolled his eyes then laughed "oh just shut up and kiss me already."

He didn't have to ask twice of course. Once again their biggest moments happened at an ice skating rink. It would come as no shock to everyone invited to the wedding that the reception would be held at the ice skating rink.

It did however come as a shock to Gabriel that for the first time in their few years of being together- their wedding night, Dean didn't fall on the ice. Gabe did.

The end

[reidsaurora]

"Looking For The Moon" ~ S. Winchester

Summary: AU where until you meet your soulmate, you see their face in the moon. Once you meet your soulmate, the moon returns to its normal shape.

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Fem!Reader (Reader is from Texas)

Word Count: 1,196

Content Warning: very mild swearing, alcohol consumption

Genre: Fluff

Extra Notes: AU where the boys get their tats earlier than S3

Based On: a random thought I had while listening to Moon by Jonah Kagen

Takes Place: right after S1 E17

Originally Written: 01/25/2022

Supernatural masterlist can be found here!

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After finishing yet another hunt, I found myself sitting in the bed of my truck, staring up at the sky, in a rural city just outside my hometown in Texas. Stargazing was something I always did when I finished a hard hunt. 

I found myself as I always did, gravitating towards looking at the moon. It was hard not to when your soulmate was staring back at you. He was handsome, the perfect man in my opinion, and I hadn't even met him.

After a few more minutes of star gazing, I decided to head to a local bar for a drink. I wasn't intending on getting drunk while I was there. If I had to be honest, I was mostly there for the bar food. Cheeseburgers and nachos always hit differently after hunts.

However, when I entered the bar, I was not expecting to be greeted by the sight of about a hundred people line dancing to "Achy Breaky Heart" by Billy Ray Cyrus.

I laughed quietly to myself as I thought, "What in the Texas?" I walked over to the nearly empty bar before sitting down and ordering some nachos and a Jack and Coke.

As the song ended, I heard someone behind me say, "Hey, pretty lady."

I turned to see a man, a slightly intoxicated man, sporting a cheap cowboy hat and cheap cowboy boots. Explains the terrible Texan accent…

"Hi," I attempted to smile back. I tried to conceal my accent when I talked, hoping to get back at him.

"Say, we need an extra set of feet for line dancing. You wanna join us?"

"I don't know how," I lied. Before he could say anything else, I quickly pretended to examine his outfit. "Ya know, I just love your boots. Did y'all just get back from the rodeo?" I asked in probably the thickest country accent I could fake.

"Alright, how'd you know?" he questioned in his normal accent, a much better fit for his voice.

"Well, for one, there's about 25 other people wearing the same hat which lets me know you probably bought that from some souvenir shop just off the highway. Not to mention, your accent was horrendous."

"Well, all that aside, that offer still stands if you wanna be my dancing partner."

"You don't need a partner for line dancing," I scoffed, turning back to the bartender as he placed my drink in front of me.

The man sat down beside me as he said, "No, but I think I'd have way more fun if I had a pretty lady to look at while I danced."

I rolled my eyes, taking a sip of my drink. I noticed that the man was wearing a familiar jacket, one I swore I'd seen somewhere before.

"You like what you're looking at?" he smirked. I didn't even realize I'd been staring.

"Can I see your chest?" I asked point blankly.

"Eager, aren't we?" he commented.

"Just show me your chest."

He raised his eyebrows as he pulled his shirt down, revealing his anti-possession tattoo.

I moved the sleeve of my flannel shirt to reveal the one I had on my shoulder.

"How'd you know?" he asked.

I finally was able to figure out why he looked familiar. "You're John Winchester's boy, aren't you?"

"Dean Henry Winchester, at your service," he nodded, taking my hand in his and kissing my knuckles.

I scoffed a little as I said, "My mom and I have hunted with him before. I recognized your jacket. It used to be his, right?"

"Yeah," Dean answered. "So, uh, you wanna dance or what?"

I scoffed a little at him before seeing that the bartender had placed my order of nachos in front of me. "I'm a little busy."

"Dean!" I heard another man say, his voice much lighter than Dean's. I turned to see where the voice was coming from and when I locked eyes with him, it was like the world stopped for a moment.

He was my soulmate, the one I always saw in the moon. I hadn't even spoken to him yet, but I already knew he was more perfect than anyone I could've ever imagined.

"Can you boys excuse me for a moment?" I asked, speaking so fast that my words ran together and hopping up from my seat.

I exited through the metal doors, looking up at the sky as I took a deep breath. The moon looked normal, there was no face.

So, the rumors were true. The moon was just as beautiful without your soulmate's face shining in it.

I took a couple deep breaths, trying to pace myself. But how could I? I'd seen his face in the moon for as long as I could remember. And now that he was here, I didn't know how to respond.

I heard the door open, seeing him walk out. He stared at the moon for a few seconds before looking at me. "You," he exhaled.

"And you," I exhaled in the same manner.

"So, we're soulmates, huh?" he asked.

"Seems that way," I smiled.

"I'm Sam," he told me, holding out his hand for me to shake it.

"Y/N," I replied, taking his hand.

His hand was surprisingly soft, the softest I had ever seen a hunter's hands.

"So, what are you doing out here?"

"Texas or the bar parking lot?" I giggled.

"Texas," he reiterated. "I'm assuming you ran out here to do the same thing I did."

I nodded before answering his first question. "Well, I'm actually from the area. I was just here specifically for a case."

"Us too," Sam replied. "The Hellhounds case. You?"

"I was working a shapeshifter case."

"Interesting. How'd it go?"

"Is this "Twenty Questions'?" I said with a giggle.

"Just trying to get to know you," he replied with a smile.

"It went well. Killed him a couple hours ago before I came here. What about you?"

"It was a very interesting case, to say the least," he chuckled. "Guy ended up being a tulpa, so we had to set that old house on fire for no reason. Though, I can't say I completely hated it. That place was creepy as hell."

"God, I hate a tulpa," I complained. I turned to fully face him, taking in everything about him: his beautiful, hazel eyes, how soft his hair looked, how good the jeans he was wearing looked on him. "So, you're the infamous Sam Winchester that John used to talk about all the time on cases."

"That'd be me."

"So, what's it's like? Being able to not live this lifestyle? Being able to get out and go to college? Being able to do whatever you want?"

"What is this, 'Twenty Questions'?" he kidded in the same tone I used earlier.

"Just trying to get to know you," I replied with a smirk, placing my arms over his shoulders and allowing my hand to play with the hairs on his neck.

"Well, believe me," he started, lightly placing his hands on my hips, "I'm an open book, Y/N."

"Well, believe me, Sam. I want to read you, from cover to cover."

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[dyed-red]

Please do put those amazing tags in a separate post because you really described their late seasons dynamic really well

<3333

Referring to this lovely gifset of late-seasons Dean arbitrating to Sam and how Sam (later in the conversation) goes along with it.

what always strikes me about late-seasons dynamic is how easily it can be mistaken for sam just capitulating to dean when that's really not what's happening, not in a way in which he's denied selfhood or autonomy (which is what happens to him in all earlier seasons! so this shift is important!).

i said in my tags "scenes that make me screeeeeam" because yeah! it does!

we see late seasons dean order sam around; sam picks his battles and pushes back on it (like in that gifset, "i beg your pardon?" - sam is independent and that hasn't disappeared! he still questions dean!) but then he often ends up accepting dean's arbitration.

and on the one hand it's like 🥴  stockholm syndrome king my beloved. and i do make those jokes and i like the line (half-joking and otherwise) about how damn pleased dean is that by late seasons he has a little brother who listens to him and does what he wants (and how guilty and fucked up he feels about all that happened to sam for them to end up here in this place that scratches that itch at dean's core).

but i honestly don't read sam as any less challenging toward dean in late seasons, or any more capitulating. i read them as having a healthier dynamic overall.

because here (in the gifset) when they're arguing about going back in time to the submarine and again when they argue about dean going to the alt-apocalypse universe with ketch, both scenes emblamatic of the shift between them because of how sam "gives in" and agrees to dean -- it's not that sam actually is giving in. not in the way one subsumes themselves or makes themselves small or gives up what they want for another person.

what's happening in both instances is that dean lays down the law, so to speak. he says hell no, you're not going. and sam balks, both times. but when he does, dean goes on to explain that his priority is keeping sam safe, and they don't know what they're facing on the other side in either of these situations, so he wants -- no, he needs sam out of it.

it's not like they don't face dangers and uncertainty all the time, but these case are particular. there are a lot of unknowns, and they're on a specific clock or existing with a narrow and focused goal under constraints. and dean needs sam not to go. it's a hard line for him.

why?

because with those constraints and with that goal, dean believes he can do it, can cut through all the mess and uncertainty of what is waiting on the other side and accomplish what they need to, but he can't do with sam. not because sam wouldn't have his back or because he'd rather any other partner beside him, but because sam is his priority. sam is his focus. now, always, in every universe.

so when faced with a new and complex and messy situation, dean can't accomplish the task objective if sam is there because his focus won't be the task objective, it will be sam, and keeping sam safe, and watching out for every danger and uncertainty and issue in order to prioritize sam. the mission be damned.

(we see this, time and again in the 15 years of canon. dean "oh i'm sorry have you met me?" winchester when told not to worry about sam. the man is self-aware on this topic).

and what's amazing is that sam accepts that! not capitulates, but understands! dean in both instances explains his priority, that he needs sam safe (that he doesn't give a shit what happens to ketch), and instead of sam's understandable insecurities getting the best of him, he recognizes that it's not about him. not that dean doesn't trust him, but that dean doesn't trust himself to get the job done. that dean will work best if sam is safe.

they're both so much more mature here 🥲 dean is being forthright (without bitching about having to be open about his feelings), even if he's blunt as hell about it. sam is trusting dean's words rather than letting his inner rebel lash out because he feels excluded.

so sam accepts dean's arbitration, his ruling in these cases, with his own caveats. and he figures out his role. he becomes dean's lookout and determines that if he can't watch dean's back in person, he can and will keep him safe from this end of things, and find a way to save him if he can't return. dean accepts this too, because he does trust sam and does rely on him, and honestly if everything goes sideways he will want and need sam's help, and the mission will be screwed regardless.

it's just that by late seasons, they're at a point where sam doesn't feel like dean doesn't trust or rely on him, and he gets that dean can't help his need to protect him. dean in turn is, for the most part, honest with sam and doesn't exclude him. he tells sam exactly what's up and they make decisions together, even when dean's arbitrating like this it's still a give and take. they mutually acknowledge their own needs and hard lines and determine the best course of action within those limits. which is what healthy dyads do!

(and my tags on the post mentioned that this leads to sam coming along on the second trip to the apocalypse universe with the "and if we die we'll do that together too" which itself is evidence in support of this mutual reading, rather than a reading where sam is capitulating. sam lays down his own law because he can't bear to be excluded on this and dean gets that. but when sam demands to come, he does so in acknowledgement of dean's priority being sam's life and potential death. and lmao sam does die so like, dean wasn't wrong to be concerned, and dean is ready to go back and also die next to him, so they get it. they understand each other. it's not just about the risks and not just about dean setting the rules, it's about them understanding each other's needs and working within those.)

so anyway yeah late-seasons dynamic is sexy submissive sam but only as a surface reading, because the reality is that he's calling the shots just as sure as dean, it just looks different between them because dean speaks in demands and orders -- he always has -- whereas sam convinces and discusses, but ultimately makes his own decisions regardless of what others (including dean) think. neither of their styles have changed, it's just that sam is more accommodating of dean and dean is more forthright with sam, and that obfuscates the equality of their relationship.

[write-nerdy-to-me]

~ destiel fic, hurt/comfort, 1k words, for @castielsdisciple​  

“Be still,” Dean murmurs to Cas when he flinches away again. He’s tried to minimize how much he pokes and digs, knowing what a bitch it is to be on the business end of pliers, but he can’t help that some of the shards are buried deep. He waits patiently as Cas takes a large swallow from the whiskey bottle he’s clutched like a lifeline, then Dean picks out yet another broken glass piece and drops it into the cup next to his hip.  

It couldn’t have just been a cut-and-dry D-list case, because life — this life especially — doesn't work like that. It was inevitable for shit to go sideways on them, and it’s laughable, fucking inane Dean ever dared to think otherwise. (“Good things do happen, Dean,” Cas said to him once. Dean’s still not convinced that's true.) 

Dean doesn’t know what it is about Cas, but the monster, like, fixated on him. The whole night, no matter how hard Dean fought to get the ugly bastard's attention, it kept going after Cas. Then monster grabbed and fucking bodily tossed him out the window and let out a roar that felt like it shook the whole house; Dean's only felt his heart leap into his throat like that a few times. He didn't get time to even process what happened because the monster, having taken out one opponent, turned and advanced on him. Dean had to finish the job alone, not knowing if Cas was even still alive. He ran to find Cas lying on a patch of wood chips, shattered glass surrounding him like a halo. Those few short moments felt like several lifetimes as he slid to his knees next to Cas, who was winded and aching and breathing. ("You alive?" Dean asked, and Cas huffed out a pained laugh and flipped him the bird. "Yeah — yeah, you're alive, you asshole.") 

Dean could swear that Cas has a deathwish or something because the reckless motherfucker refused to be checked out at the hospital. Dean insisted that he needed to go, as only so much could be done with the sparse supplies they had. They argued, and in the end, Cas’ stubborn glare won out. If he was gonna be like that, then Dean figured the sooner they get a move on and save Cas from his own bullheaded stupidity, the better. The last thing they need is Cas getting an infection. And the way he climbed into the Impala, slow, graceless, hiding his winces and grinding his teeth, only further proved that they should head to the hospital, but Dean held his tongue.

The ride back to the motel was, to say the least, unpleasant. In their room, it’s not much better. 

For the past hour now, Dean’s painstakingly removed a myriad of embedded glass and wood shards from Cas’ back, wiped away the blood, and applied ice to the welts that have already turned angry and dark. Cas hasn’t said a word since their fight— that disagreement back at the old farmhouse, but Dean's talked plenty for the both of them. He’s lost count of how many times he’s repeated this mantra: Be still, be still. How many times it’s followed by tiny plinks of glass and wood into a plastic cup. Dean would think Cas finds it patronizing — insulting, even — if it weren’t for the way the coiled tension in Cas’ shoulders starts to ease whenever he speaks. If it makes this process easier for him… well, then who’s Dean to deny him?

“Be still. I know, I know. I’m sorry.” Another glass piece. Plink.

The A/C unit in the corner kicks over with a wheeze. Cas says, “I don’t deserve this,” in a voice so hushed Dean would’ve missed it if he wasn’t sitting right behind him. 

Dean’s hands stop, just for a moment. Plink, plink. “What are you talking about?”

Cas sighs. “I don’t deserve this. Your attention, your care, your lo—” He cuts himself off, arms coming around his middle and shoulders hunching away from Dean’s hands. A soft hiss escapes his lips as the motion tugs sharply at his wounds. He sounds like wishes he could take back the words the second they leave his mouth and hates himself for it. “Your kindness. I don’t deserve it.”

How could Cas think so little of himself? Believe himself so unworthy that he shouldn’t even receive the most basic care? But Dean gets it, maybe more than Cas realizes. “That’s bullshit,” Dean says mildly. Plink. 

“Dean...” Cas starts to shift further away from him, and that won’t do, because he needs to listen, needs to hear what Dean’s telling him, and he won’t if he’s already sinking into himself. 

“Don’t, I’m not finished,” Dean admonishes quietly. “I’m serious. Don’t move.” He touches Cas’ waist and— and he just stills with a shaky breath. If this were any other time, Dean would dwell on how Cas caves at the slightest touch initiated from him, how he always just lets him.

When it seems like Cas isn’t on the verge of bolting, Dean says, “I know there's something about this case that got to you bad — don’t think I didn’t notice, man.” Hunts aren't easy, and unexpected bodies turning up are never something a good hunter takes lightly, but Cas seemed to take each one like a devastating blow. Dean tried to press Cas about it, and he shook off Dean’s worry and pretended that everything was fine. Dean doesn't have to be a good hunter to know Cas was lying. “Why won’t you talk to me?”

Cas turns his face away. “There’s nothing to talk about.” A beat. Then, “I think you’d be better off hunting with Sam again.”

The fuck? Taken aback, heat starts to crawl up Dean’s face. Part of him wants to be angry — hell, he kinda is, underneath the hurt — but he takes a breath and lets it out slowly, for once grateful Cas is facing the other way. “I like hunting with you. Besides, Sam's got his club going on, and anything with Eileen he likes to be involved.”

“Maybe you should have a different partner. One that doesn’t fuck up.”

“Everyone fucks up,” Dean says defensively. “Cas, if this is about what you did, you’re already forgiven for that—” 

But Cas isn’t listening. The dam's busted open. “I’m supposed to— I used to be an angel. My powers, I could... I could help you, I could help Sam, but now I can’t — I can’t even do that.” Cas covers his face with his hands, rakes them roughly up through his hair. “I’m — I’m useless.”

Dean’s heart clenches sharply. He knew that the fading powers and subsequent loss of them had been hard on Cas, but Dean didn’t know it was affecting him this badly. Then he feels like an asshole, because of course this was, for fuck's sake. “Cas…”

Cas turns around, winces as he moves too quickly. He touches Dean’s face with gentle, hesitant fingers. There are scrapes and cuts Dean hasn’t taken care of yet, too occupied with making sure Cas doesn’t get a damn infection. Cas’ eyes grow sad; his brow furrows. “I miss— With a touch, I could heal you. I wouldn’t need you to care for me this — this way.” 

“Cas, man, you gotta know that it’s never been about your powers. You’re not a-a tool, Cas. All I want— It’s just you. I told you, man. I’d rather have you. Nothing’s ever gonna change that.”

Cas is quiet for a minute. “Your faith... I've always admired it. How you put your trust in people. You're a good man, Dean."

"Yeah, well." Dean clears his throat. "Gotta make up for all the bad shit I've done, right?"

Cas hums, unconvinced. He grabs the damp rag that held the ice, shaking out the remaining pieces. He doesn’t seem to care where the ice landed. "Let me?" 

Dean almost says no, he's fine, but something in the way Cas looks at him... "Okay."

Cas wipes away the dried blood on Dean's face. Lately, he and Cas would be arguing, if they weren’t busy giving each other the cold-shoulder. It’s not the first time they’ve been at opposite ends or had disagreements — Dean refuses to say they bickered — not by a long shot. It’s just... been a while. Dean thought they were past petty fights. Now, though, they fall into a comfortable silence, for once not thick with tension from the unsaid. 

Cas’ thumb traces over the scar on Dean's chin, and he says, a hopeless look in his eye, "I love you. Did you know that?"

Dean just breathes and touches Cas' wrist. "Cas..."

"You don't have to say anything. I just thought you should know."

Dean tugs the rag out of Cas' hand. His mind is taking a second to reboot. But he knows — he knows he needs to kiss Cas right now. "C’mere," he mumbles and cups Cas' face between his palms and presses their mouths together. When they separate to breathe, Dean says, “It’s always you, Cas. You know that.”

“Tell me anyway.”

“I love you.” The smile Cas gives him is soft and crooked and still sad. Dean’s not stupid; he knows things with Cas are rocky at best, but it’s a start. “Now turn back around so I can get the rest of the junk out, asshole.”

[pray4jensen]

Are you hopeful about Misha being back and Dean returning Cas' feelings? I don't know what to think anymore but I'm not feeling hopeful and it makes me sad. I'm just having a hard time, I want to believe!

Hi anon! I can see how one could be skeptical because they’ve tried so hard to convince us that he wasn’t there for filming, not to mention that they really went all out with the call backs during Cas’ death scene. There was the hand print, the “wings” as the Empty takes him, and of course what definitely sounded like a deathbed one-sided love confession, but hey, they’ve also dropped a lot of clues to suggest otherwise, too! 

1) In 15.09, when Chuck shows Sam the future, it is one where Cas is dead. Cas’ death is shown directly to be the reason why Dean is hopeless in the future. He gives up completely and when he finally agrees to hunt with Sam, they fail because Dean’s unable to give it his best shot. The consequence of that hopelessness is that they get turned into vampires. A future without Cas means a future where Dean becomes the monster at the end of the book and dies, which means it is a future where Chuck wins. That doesn’t really sound like a show about free will, does it? 

2) To follow this, in 15.04, Becky specifically tells the audience that an ending with Sam and Dean dying and Cas absent is a bad ending. Becky is a fan of Supernatural, just like us, and all season, we’ve been told by the cast and crew that we’re going to get an ending that will please the fans. Chuck’s bad ending definitely wouldn’t fly with any fan of the show.

3) All of the above stresses the importance of Cas in the story. They can’t have a happy ending if he’s dead. Fifteen seasons have gone by, and we know one of the main themes of this show is free will. In 15.17, Chuck tells us that Cas is the only one who’s ever had true free will, who’s the only one who’s ever been able to influence Chuck’s story and break free of his control. By that same logic, Cas is the only one who can finally free Sam and Dean. He is the bringer of true free will and he is the only one who can hand it to humanity. 

4) And just beyond narrative reasons foreshadowing Cas’ return, there’s also what the cast has said. Misha’s confirmed Cas is queer, and if Cas died after coming out, we’d be stuck with the Bury Your Gays trope, a mistake that the writers made with Charlie in 10.21. And anon, fans have literally never let them live it down. I don’t think they’d make the same mistake twice; they were booed at Comic Con that year and the cast all saw the backlash. Misha said in his latest panel that he could see Cas’ death as Bury Your Gays, but that he felt this scene meant something more. If Cas came back and got a happy ending, it wouldn’t be Bury Your Gays anymore

5) Misha is also like...a really bad liar. He also fumbled a lot when asked about whether it was his last episode. He emphasized that that had been the last scene he shot for 15.18, not the last scene of the season. Not to mention the cast put on a little celebration for him when he ended his tenure on the show and we know it couldn’t have happened on the same night as 15.18 because when they wrapped for the episode, Misha talked about nearly dying in a plane crash that same night. This is...what truly makes me believe...it’s Misha’s nervous babbling during the interview...

As for whether I think Dean will also return Cas’ feelings with a love confession, there’s evidence for that, too:

1) In 15.09, when Dean loses Cas in purgatory, Dean tells Cas that he has something to say. Cas tells him he heard his prayer, but the look on Dean’s face strongly suggests otherwise. Whatever he has to say, it isn’t in the prayer we heard. It’s a loose end and a very important one at that. All season they’ve stressed the consequences of Dean’s anger and Dean’s prayer was all about anger and release. Bottling up his feelings and leaving that bit of whatever Dean wanted to say unsaid wouldn’t resolve this storyline in a satisfactory way.

2) Even during the confession itself, Dean wanted to say things. He wanted more time, he told Cas not to do this, and he sobbed when Cas got pulled away. If we don’t hear anything more about Dean’s feelings and what he was going to say, it would be HIGHWAY ROBBERY, and again, an unsatisfactory resolution to his story

3) Not to mention during the same episode as the confession, Charlie and Sam both had their girlfriends taken from them. Dean had his friend taken? Um. Try boyfriend. If Dean never confesses and lets the audience know that Cas is his romantic partner, this would be very strange writing...

4) My last piece of evidence is literally the last 12 years. The mixtape, people asking him if he had a break-up whenever he fights with Cas, people asking him who he’s pining for, people asking him if he can imagine having a romantic partner who understands the life and like, just the fact that he literally loses his will to live whenever anyone tries to take Cas away from him. Like listen, I watched the last seven years of this story unfold week by week. In that manner, it’s actually harder to see how much Dean longs for him. But recently, I’ve been rewatching the show with my roommate. When you’re binging it, Dean’s incessant about it. He’s always asking about Cas when Cas is gone. He’s always hopeless, always broken without him. Sam spends like every episode comforting him about it. It would be incredibly foolish for the writers to not address Dean’s side when they went ahead with Cas’ side. Also, I’ll like literally show up at their houses with a pitchfork.

Will it be anything like Cas’ confession? Will there be a kiss? Frankly, I don’t know, but never in my life did I ever imagine something as textual as Cas’ confession either so I’m HOPEFUL, more hopeful than I’ve been in years. I do think 100% Dean will return Cas’ feelings, but whether it will be as obvious as Cas’ confession and whether the show will depict an actual romantic relationship in the finale remains to be seen. 

[slowpoke-fics]

Hidden Hunter

Fandom: Supernatural

Pairing: Crowley x Reader

Summary: Crowley is your best friend, has been for years and taught you a lot of what you know. However, you aren't associated with the boys.

Warnings: mention of injury and stitches, slow burn, hint at death, I could be missing some, I am not perfect please read at your own risk

A/N: I loved this fic, I hope you guys do too! Oh! And a favor I ask of you. The more I write the more I worry about warnings. If you ever see anything I write not have a warning it should, please tell me.

You pulled into your motel, harshly parking your car and storming into your room. Muttering to yourself as you slid your shirt off, door barely slamming shut, "Stupid motherfuckers couldn't just listen. Couldn't just-" you let out a guttural scream, "I tried. I tried." You shook your head, unbuttoning your pants as you heard Crowley behind you, "Hello, Mouse." You slipped your pants off, turning to look at Crowley, not missing the way his eyes studied the curves of your body. "Hey, Crowley."

Crowley took in your ragged and bloody appearance. Dried blood scattered throughout your hair, on your arms, tiny nicks and cuts over your body with a nasty gash on your torso. Crowley's eyebrows raised and he spoke as you went into the bathroom turning on the shower, "I guess they didn't take the deal?" You poked your head out of the bathroom, glaring at him, "No, they didn't captain obvious." Crowley laughed, sitting on the bed as you took a quick shower.

You ran your fingers through your hair, trying to get the blood out without stretching too far so you didn't irritate the gash on your stomach. You stepped out of the shower, washing all of the grime off of you made you feel a little better. "I hate hunting," you muttered to Crowley as you walked out of the bathroom, hair draped over your neck and a towel wrapped tightly around you. "Would you please get me a pair of shorts, a tank top and a pair of underwear out of my bag?" Crowley smiled at you, already on his way to your bag, "Of course, love."

You stood there looking at Crowley as he ruffled through your bag. His suit clinging to all the right spots, curling around his biceps, tight around his thighs, unfortunately his ass covered by the length of his jacket, shoes nicely completing his look.

You'd met Crowley a few years back, when he was a lowly cross roads demon. You went to make a deal, planning to exchange your soul for the ability to track supernatural creatures so you could save them. Crowley took an interest in why you wanted to do such things. Realizing that you were a hunter that wanted to stop the deaths before they happen was important to you. Stop the needless death of humans and monsters alike.

You'd become close to him, allowing him to teach you the ways of the natural witch. After about a year you had learned enough that Crowley needed to come up with some other reason to stick around. So he started to offer his help with no strings attached as he took a liking to his little mouse. The hunter who only hunted those who hunt.

Crowley handed you the clothing, politely turning around before you dropped your towel. You slid your underwear on, groaning as you did so, causing Crowley too start to turn around. He stopped himself, asking permission first, "Let me help, yeah mouse?" You giggled, covering your boobs and huffing, "Yeah okay."

Crowley turned around, helping you step into the shorts and pulling them up, he handed you the towel to properly cover yourself on his way up. What a gentleman, you thought as he went over to your bag, digging out the emergency kit. "Lay, you need stitches," Crowley pointed to bed. You grumbled, he knew you didn't like stitches, "It's not even that bad, it's fine." Crowley glared at you, "Love, if you don't stitch that it's gonna take months to heal and likely get infected."

You laughed, laying down, "I could always just use a spell." Crowley shook his head, his playfulness with his best friend suddenly gone, "We've discussed that Y/n, it's not the kind of magic you want too mess around with." You put his hand on his arm, as he wet the rag he had with alcohol, in an attempt to comfort him, "I was just kidding, I know."

Crowley started cleaning the gash, making sure that you had gotten all the debris out. You hissed at him, you could see how curious he was, but you'd made a rule that he doesn't press hard unless it's bad. "So," you croaked out as he started stitching you, "what'd you do today?" Crowley smiled at you, secretly bashing you because if you'd just listen to him and find partners it wouldn't be like this.

"Well, I saw moose and squirrel-" You lifted your head, excited, "Sam and Dean?" He nodded, "Yes the royal pains in my ass. They were having trouble tracking some witch-" You giggled, "I could've helped them instead." Crowley tries to hide his genuine concern by joking, "Oh no doll, I don't think we'll be doing that." You furrowed your brows, "I still think we'd make a good team."

"Mouse, I don't ask for much," Crowley sighed, "if you want partners, I can find plenty of hunters that are not Winchesters." Crowley put gauze over your stitches, carefully pressing tape to hold them in place. You sat up, Crowley turning around to let you slip your tank top on, "Decent," he turned back around, "what is your problem? I never like other people enough to let them join me, but when I hear about someone you say no?"

Crowley sighed, "They're dangerous people, Y/n. I've told you I don't want you near them." You stared at him, "I just don't understand, you always tell me they're dangerous and I can't go near them but nothing else!" You stood up, starting to pace. "They're-huff-" Crowley looked away from you, closing his eyes tightly as they flashed with anger, "they'll do nothing but destroy you." With that Crowley was gone. You were used to your arguments ending like that, even your conversations. He would get called away and come back when he wasn't busy and that was fine, but you were going to look into the Winchesters while you had the chance.

You pulled out a map of the United States, channeling through your pendulum Crowley had hand made for you. You smiled, looking at the chain on one end a sharp pointed crystal rested, on the there a tiny little metal mouse, identifying it as yours, the only one on the planet like it. You took a deep breath, circling the crystal over the map focusing your energy on the image of the Winchester brothers. After a few minutes of scrying and finding nothing you decided to leave it for now, starting to pack up your things you began thinking about what was so bad about the Winchester brothers. Why did Crowley want you to stay away?

You didn't really know much about them aside from the little Crowley'd told you because you didn't really associate with other hunters. At the end of the day, you hated most of them. Hunters in general were crass, and you hated that. You are a ray of sunshine trying to preserve life and most hunters see something not human and kill it. That didn't sit right with you.

You thought about the things you did know about the brothers. They had been in this life their whole life. Had lost both parents, almost ended the world a couples times, saved it just as much if not more. Only really had each other, but Crowley had mentioned an angel on their shoulder-Castiel I believe? What did you even know about him?

"I don't believe I know you?" Your entire body went cold, turning as fast as you can to aim a gun in between his eyes. "That will do little damage to me," he spoke flatly. "I beg to differ, these here special made bullets to put your ass in back in hell, so tell me? What're you doing here?" The man is staring at you, confusion in his brows, arms by the edges of his trench coat, pants and shirt tidy, but not perfect, "I am Castiel, an angel of the lord. You called to me." Before you could even think of a response, Crowley was standing next to you. Eyes holding fear, not ager, he speaks lowly, a whisper under his breath.

"What have you done little mouse?"

You lowered your gun, not sure if it was because it wouldn't do damage or because you felt safe with Crowley there. "I didn't call to anybody," you stare at Castiel, eyes boring into his as he speaks. "I beg to differ, I felt you, heard you, you seem to also need dealings with the Winchesters?" He looked to Crowley who he'd just seen not hours ago, "I am slightly concerned with Crowley being here." Crowley scoffed, "I haven't tried anything on the musketeers in years, I've been nothing but a friend and Y/n here was too curious for her own good." He growled out the end looking directly towards you, causing a rush guilt for going behind Crowleys back.

"I didn't mean to take you away from the Winchesters-" "You did not. I am a man of many abilities, helping people is one of them. At least allow me to heal you." You backed away as he stepped forward, "I am not going to hurt you." Crowley put his hand on your arm, trying to reassure you, "Well do it then Feathers, but uh-" Castiel healed you, you felt warmth, pain dissolving from your body, "can we keep her to ourselves?" Your eyes raised at Crowley, appalled by his gumption to hide you.

"Excuse me?" You jerked away from Crowley, Castiel raising his eyebrows at you. "Is that what you would like Y/n?" You looked at Crowley, his face a mix of anger and concern. "Can we? I promise I won't bother you." Castiel smiles at you, secretly reading you, "You wouldn't be a bother but I understand. I am happy to have healed you." Castiel was gone, Crowley already starting to pick your bags up. "We're gone now mouse."

He grabbed you, whisking you away. You looked around, taking in the room you were standing in. It was clearly an apartment, a nicer than you'd ever known anyone to have. You looked around, a sleek kitchen area, the bathroom door opened from the living room, the couch took up most of the living room, a nice coffee table in front of it but pressed to the wall.

"Crowley where are we?" He was glaring at you, a sour look on his face, "A safe house, I hoped we'd never have to use it." You shook your head, "Okay, but where? What about my car?" He shuffled on his feet, "In a few days when I know Castiel didn't spill the beans about you I will take you back to it." Crowley chuckled a little, but not answering as he reached out your bags for you to take. You huffed, taking your bags from him, and then he disappeared.

You walked over to the refrigerator, to your surprise it was stocked. Demons don't need to eat, you thought to yourself, a little confused and trying to figure out where you were, you moved to the window. You looked out and you couldn't have been but three stories up, but no markers as to your city or state. The bathroom was also stocked shampoo, conditioner, soap, toilet paper, toothbrush and toothpaste?

Crowley reappeared, holding the rest of your things and your gun. You took it from him, anger over your features. "Crowley, are we in someone's apartment right now? You know how I feel about how you taking over peoples lives!" Crowley scoffed at you, "You know I respect you too much to violate your beliefs like that!" You rolled your eyes, tucking your gun behind your waistband, "Then who's apartment is this?"

Crowley made his was over to the cabinet, pulling out a bottle of liquor he conveniently knew where to find, "Technically yours. Like I said it's a safe house." You tapped the counter, letting him know you wanted a glass as you sat down, "Gonna have to do better than that." He poured your glass first, shrugging he started, "I pay for it, it's under a fake name, it's warded so you can't be found, do we need to get into logistics?" You downed your glass, picking up the bottle and filling up again, "You brought me here after I met Castiel, that's not exactly safe house worthy." Crowley shook his head, sipping on his own glass, "Yes it is cricket, yet it is." Your blood started to boil, you stood from your chair, seething with anger, you spit, "Crowley, if you don't stop acting like-"

"Like what? Like someone who wants to keep you alive?" You flinched at Crowleys words, waiting for him to continue, "Everyone that they're around dies, Y/n, dies. Hunter funeral, pile of ash, dies. Everyone but them; they will destroy you." You scoffed, "I'm pretty good at keeping myself alive thank you." He raises his eyebrows, smirking a bit, "Do you forget how we met mouse?" Your eyes connected with his, glaring, still seething with anger, "I was desperate not dead, there's a difference. Crowley, they can't be doing more damage than me hunting on my own. Maybe I could be a voice of reason-" Crowley slammed his glass down, grabbing the counter with both hands, "No! I don't know why you even want to know them!"

You studied Crowley, jealousy now seeping from him. Then it clicked. It clicked that you two were a bunch of shy kids. Bouncing around each other like you were fifteen for years now. Each thinking the other was uninterested, each thinking that you didn't deserve one another. Crowley rightfully so for a while, the things he did outside of you could be classified as horrendous, but your ray of sunshine had spread to him. Bringing out all of the good parts that once was Fergus Roderick MacLeod, reminding him of who he could be. You reminded him how to love, how to hold someone higher than yourself. Reminded him of what it's like to protect someone other than yourself, to need to.

"Crowley," you walked around the table and placed your hand on his, "please just tell me what's going on." Crowley didn't hesitate, he turned to you pressing his lips into yours. It took you a second to realize what was happening, and then you melted. You moved your arms around his neck, pulling him deeper into the kiss, his stubble tickling you. Crowley tangled his fingers in your hair, taking a deep breath as he readjusted to meet your lips, tongue skirting your bottom lip before nibbling on it. You gasped at the action, the sound taking Crowley by surprise as he continued to glide across your lips, not missing the warm blush on your face.

Crowley was first to pull away, sliding his hand out of your hair and tucking it behind your ear, resting his hand there, he whispered, "I can't lose you." You planted a chaste kiss on his lips, smiling at him reassuringly, "You won't." He softened a little bit, sighing heavily before returning his lips to yours. Soft and gentle, savoring the moment as he tugged you closer to him with his arm around your waist. You pulled just an inch away, Crowleys eyes opening and making contact with yours, "Does this mean I get to meet the Winchesters?" Crowley growled at you, quickly lifting you by your thighs causing your to wrap your legs around him, "Absolutely not."

[dreamwritesimagines]

Twisted 14 - Sinking Deeper [Spencer Reid x Reader]

A.N.: Thank you so much for your wonderful support my loves! Here’s the next chapter, I hope you will like it as well, and please let me know what you think of it! ❤❤ Ily, kisses! ❤❤❤ 

Ps: Special thanks to Bea for helping me!

Series Masterlist

Warnings: Murder, serial killers, violence, manipulation, mentions of sex, drinking, smoking.

Word Count: 4180

Summary: Not every night is for sleeping.

All things considered, you were sure that you were supposed to be more stressed out than you were right now. The FBI still had nothing on the copycat killer that had sent you flowers, or any of the others that were running wild all over the country. BAU was working nonstop because there was more and more pressure coming from the supervisors and higher ups, and Spencer had told you something about the profile evolving but hadn’t gotten into details.

Not that you would ever ask him to, what you heard was more than enough.

Despite all that, whenever you were with him, you managed to feel almost…peaceful. It was so unfamiliar to you that it had taken you a moment to acknowledge what it was.

Happiness. Pure happiness, enough to get rid of the mind-numbing panic and worries about the future.

Or, as your sister had so eloquently put it, you were so, so screwed.

You took a sip of your mimosa, texting Spencer under the table, barely aware of the conversation taking place but you had to look up when you heard your name being called.

“Would you want to, Y/N?” your mother asked and you frowned.

“Hm?” you asked, your eyes stopping on Lily playing with her dolls by the corner of the huge living room before you looked at Mina and Kenzie, “Sorry, what were we talking about?”

“There’s this opera—“

“Nope,” you shook your head fervently, “No way. It’s Mina’s turn.”

Mina let out a whine, “I hate you so much right now.”

“She has a point,” your mother pointed at Mina, “Your sister was the one who came to the charity ball, you can come to this one.”

Mina heaved a sigh while Kenzie reached out to hold her hand.

“Babe come on, it could be fun.”

“Exactly!” your mother said, “Thank you, Kenzie. Besides, Nolan is coming as well, so we will be two couples there. Y/N, of course if you want you can bring Spencer—“

“I’m not exaggerating when I say I’d rather spend an hour in my serial killer father’s cell with Spencer.”

Your mother rolled her eyes and Mina tilted her head.

“Nolan Yates is coming too?” she asked, pinching the bridge of her nose, “I’m spending a whole night with the boss of my boss?”

“You two should get to know each other!” Your mother said, “Besides, there’s no harm in telling your bosses that you should become a partner already—“

“Mom,” Mina cut her off, “We talked about this. I will earn that position by myself, not because of anyone’s influence. Including yours.”

Your mother sipped her drink, “It’s as if you like struggling, Mina.”

Kenzie looked between them and smiled brightly, trying to diffuse the situation. “I’m actually pretty curious about him,” she said, “Since you’re a couple now, I just need to see what kind of a person he is.”

“There’s nothing to see, babe.” Mina murmured, “The guy looks like he spends millions alone on his beard care and wears bowties to bed.”

“Yeah but bowties are cool,” you grinned and a silence fell upon the table.

“I will get back to you sleeping with my boss’ boss in a minute mom but—“ Mina cleared her throat and turned to you, “I’m sorry, was that a Doctor Who reference?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, “I started watching it because Spencer likes it so much. It’s actually pretty fun, he said we could go to Sonic-Con next year if I want.”

“Comic-Con.” Kenzie corrected you helpfully and Mina blinked a couple of times.

“Jesus Christ.”

“I don’t get it,” Kenzie said, “I told you to watch it with me and you said, and I quote It has like one billion episodes Kenz, I don’t have time for that.”

Mina stole a look at Lily to make sure she couldn’t hear you before she turned to Kenzie, “Yeah, the difference is that you weren’t dicking her down.”

“Nobody is dicking me down!” you whispered, and your mother gasped, putting her mimosa glass down.

“Girls, not at the breakfast table!” she insisted, “Not that this kind of language is acceptable anywhere…”

“Yeah Mina, leave her alone,” Kenzie said, “I think it’s sweet.”

“What’s next? You will want to get a doctorate as well because he likes them so much?”

“That wouldn’t be so bad,” your mother mused out loud, “Y/N, I know the lovely dean of—“

“No!” you pointed at them, “No to both of you. And thank you Kenzie.”

Before your mother could say anything, Lily ran to you to climb into your lap.

“Hi there bug.”

“Can we play after brunch?” she looked up at you, making you smile at her before you pinched her chubby cheek, making her giggle.

“Of course,” you said, “Dibs on green unicorn.”

“I like pink better,” she nicked a piece of cheese from your plate, “Are you talking about your prince?”

Mina smiled into her glass, “Something like that sweetheart.”

“Lily, why don’t you ask auntie what you asked me the other day?” Kenzie told her and Lily nodded fervently.

“Can I wear pink on your wedding?”

“Whoa-“ you cleared your throat, “Lily, baby, there’s no wedding.”

Kenzie and your mother grinned at each other and turned to you and Lily but she looked as if she was confused.

“But if he’s your prince…” she trailed off and Kenzie cleared her throat.

“I would like to come up with a tamer version of that question,” she said, “When do we get to meet him?”

“Mom and Mina already have,” you said but your mother shook her head.

“That doesn’t count.”

“Because you treated him like you were going to hire him?”

“Oh you did the same to him as well?” Kenzie asked your mother, “I thought Mina would have a heart attack when you did that to me.”

“I honestly thought you would break up with me after that.”

You fixed the huge bow on top of Lily’s hair while she sat still in your lap, listening to the conversation.

“How about dinner?” your mother said, “It’d help us to get to know him better.”

“Nope,” you shook your head, “It’s too early.”

“Oh come on Y/N!”

“I will introduce him to you guys when I’m sure you can behave.”

“He has spent hours with dad, you do realize that?” Mina asked with a small laugh, “You think he behaves? The guy is a—“

“Mina.” Kenzie nodded at Lily and Mina stopped herself immediately but Lily had already heard it.

“I thought your dad was a bad man, mommy.”

“He is, baby,” she nodded, “That’s why he’s far away, remember?”

“Then why is auntie Y/N’s prince talking to him?”

“Because he catches bad people, bug.”

Lily gasped and looked up at you, her eyes shining with excitement, “Like a superhero?!”

“Mm hm, like a superhero,” you grinned at her and she fidgeted in your lap.

“When will I meet him?”

“Yeah Y/N, when will we meet him?” Kenzie batted her lashes and you pointed at her.

“That’s evil, you know that right?” you asked, ignoring Mina’s laughter, “Low blow.”

                                                 ***

Towards the evening, right before it was time to meet Spencer he had texted you, saying that they would be doing overtime at work. You were bummed, but you still texted back to tell him it was alright, that you would be going home and he could drop by whenever he was done.

After having dinner, you went to the couch with a bottle of wine and turned your laptop on to take a look at the files your assistant had sent you. Campbell wedding was almost done, Vincent had sent you a couple of new ideas to add into the theme, and you had to email back two pastry shops to confirm the wedding cake orders.

You were so lost in work that you had barely realized downing the half of the bottle and it was only when your phone started buzzing on the coffee table that you looked away from the screen of the laptop.

“Hi Lincoln,” you answered the phone, still typing your replies to your assistant and he took a deep breath.

“Hey,” he said, “Are you watching it?”

“Watching what?”

“TV. They’re talking about the copycat killers.”

“What?” you grabbed the remote to turn on the TV and of course, the first TV channel you found was already covering the story.

“The FBI has confirmed that the body that was found dead earlier today belonged to one of the copycat killers that has been—“

“What the fuck?” you murmured, keeping your eyes on the screen and he cleared his throat.

“Yeah,” he said, “I know it’s creepy but I mean…I don’t know, isn’t that a good thing?”

“Someone killed one of the copycat killers?” you asked, “That makes no sense at all.”

“Do you think it’s the same one?” he asked, “From the charity ball?”

“I don’t know,” you muttered, “Jesus Christ.”

“Are you okay?” he asked, “I didn’t know if I should call, but…”

“No no, I’m glad you did.” You muted the TV, then filled your glass again, “What’re you doing?”

“Just leaving work,” he said and you raised your brows.

“Linc, it’s eleven p.m.”

“I had to attend a meeting overseas.”

“Workaholic.”

“I prefer the term hard working,” he chuckled, “How about you? You weren’t sleeping, right?”

“Nah, I was waiting for my boyfriend,” you said, making him pause for a moment, “And checking client files. And drinking.”

“You’re lucky you can deal with your job while drinking, these sharks would pounce on me if they ever saw me like that.”

You took a look at the TV and typed in the copycat killer’s name into the search bar, sipping your wine.

“You’re being safe, right?” he asked you, “I haven’t heard from you for like a week or so, you’re alright?”

You pressed your lips together, trying to decide whether to tell him about the flowers or not, but in the end you decided not to.

“Family drama,” you said, “I’ve been running everywhere, and what with work and everything…Sorry about that.”

“Don’t be silly,” he chuckled, “Just wanted to make sure you were alright, that’s all.”

“I’m alright—“ you started but then looked over your shoulder when you heard the doorbell ring, “Gotta go. I’ll call you tomorrow?”

“Sure thing, see you,” he said and hung up, so you jumped over the couch to rush to the door before you opened it to see Spencer standing there.

“Hey,” you smiled at him, standing on your tiptoes to kiss him, “Long day?”

He nodded silently and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you closer to inhale your scent.

“Hi,” he muttered into your hair, “Yeah. Long day.”

“I have wine?” you said as you pulled back, and closed the door after he stepped in, “I also have a bathtub even you could lose yourself in.”

“It’s fine, don’t worry,” he said and hesitated for a moment, “On second thought, do you have coffee?”

“Are you sure you want to drink coffee at eleven at night?”

“I still have some reports to go over,” he said, stepping into the living room while you put the coffee on and his eyes stopped on the huge screen that was still giving details about the copycat killer.

“You saw that huh?”

“Mm hm,” you watched him as he dropped his satchel and you went to sit down next to him on the couch. “I was checking the other news. That’s why you had to work overtime?”

He rubbed at his eyes and ran a hand through his fluffy hair as if it would help, “We thought the profile was changing but this whole thing just proves someone is trying to keep it stable.”

You pulled your brows together, “What?”

“The victimology didn’t match with the last two victims, and now one of the copycats ended up dead, probably the one who went rogue.”

“How did it not match?” you blinked a couple of times, “They all left a flower in the crime scene, no?”

“Well yeah, but the rest—“ he stopped for a moment, staring at you, “You never actually checked his victimology?”

“I never watched any of those interviews he gave after he was imprisoned, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Yeah, and those interviews are the reason why we still don’t have a specific suspect because everyone knows everything about him, and most of your family life,” he heaved a sigh, “But you know what his victims had in common?”

“They all bled out while he watched,” you crossed your arms, leaning back to the arm of the couch, “I know that. He liked watching that.”

“Your father never killed anyone outside his social circle,” he reminded you, “They were all wealthy and overly successful people, remember? That’s why it took FBI so long to find him, because the previous profile was wrong. They thought it was someone who didn’t have access to the same resources, the same wealth and status, and it was for revenge.”

“Yeah but Spencer, he killed those people because he is evil.”

“He killed those people because in his mind, he was creating this…perfect business environment. Most of the people who got murdered were either failing business people or people who failed to meet his expectations. He was very successful, he expected the same from everyone. That’s his victimology. The flowers on the crime scene, they were just his signature. Well, his signature and his small offering to you.”

You thought for a moment, then went to the kitchen to pour him a cup of coffee before walking back to the couch.

“I still think this is a bad idea professor,” you muttered as you gave him the cup and he smiled at you, then took a sip while you lit up a cigarette.

“So then,” you crossed your legs, “His victims were the cream of society and that means something? Other than the fact that he was a psychopath?”

“That means a lot of things,” he said, “So far, most of the victims had a higher status in society, it means that the copycats actually wanted to continue his legacy from where he left off. Maybe not the people who disappointed them per se, but until these last two victims, they all had higher financial status, either family money or with their own successful companies but last month, someone first killed a bartender and then a social worker. The only thing that told us it was remotely connected was the flower in the crime scene.”

“That’s why the profile was changing,” you muttered to yourself, “Okay. Is that normal?”

“No, not at all,” he shook his head, “It’s very unfamiliar. It did prove our multiple copycat killers theory but other than that, it was going to make things incredibly harder until…” he nodded at the TV and you pulled your brows together.

“Hold on,” you sat up straighter, your mind working nonstop, “Multiple copycats who are trying to continue that monster’s legacy, and one happens to taint that legacy by going rogue…”

“And he gets killed,” he finished your sentence for you, “Exactly.”

“It was one of the copycats who killed him?”

“That’s my theory.”

“So they’re not actually working together then?” you asked, exhaling the smoke, “Or- or- wait, you said there could be one copycat that was controlling the others, maybe they did it?”

Spencer took a sip of his coffee, “It could also mean that the leader wouldn’t want to take chances like this again,” he said, “Someone tainted the legacy, he might begin to believe he cannot trust anyone with that again.”

You let out a breath, stubbing the cigarette, “What does that mean then? For…all of this?”

“It means that someone cares so much about your father’s legacy that they’re ready to kill anyone and everyone over it, even their partners,” he said, “It also means that their whole operation is starting to crack. It’s only a matter of time someone makes a mistake and ends up getting caught.”

You massaged your temples, “Well, at least one of us can see the light at the end of this psycho murder tunnel.”

“You can’t?”

You shrugged your shoulders, “It feels like it won’t stop,” you croaked out, “It’s like… It’s like I can’t wake up without dread filling me. It’s always there, at some corner of my mind. The more I think about it, the more I feel like—“ you stopped yourself and Spencer frowned, putting his coffee down.

“What?”

“You don’t want to hear that, trust me.”

“Try me.”

“The more I feel like it will go on until the day I die.”

“It’s impossible for this case to take that long, Y/N—“

“I didn’t say it’d take long,” you took a sip of your wine and heaved a sigh before you looked up at him, the expression on his face almost hurting your heart physically, “Told you that you didn’t want to hear it.”

“Don’t say that.”

You forced a small laugh and got up from the couch, suddenly restless.

“You said it yourself,” you said, pacing in the living room, “His victimology. He went after the people who disappointed him, right? Can you guess who’s disappointing him right now by not turning into the monster that he is?”

“That’s not what I—“ he shook his head fervently and stood up from the couch as well, “No. No way. It’s his victimology, but none of the psychiatric evaluations or anything on his file, including the list of his victims suggest that he would go after his family. There was a reason why he never tried to hurt you or Mina or your mother even back then—“

“No I’m sure they’re safe,” you said, “But Mina didn’t get flowers, professor. I have.”

“If our theory of him being in contact with the copycat is right, it means that your father is involved as well—hey,” he stopped you from pacing, reaching out to hold your hands in his, “Listen to me. Whoever it is, they will never, ever touch you. I’ll make sure of that.”

A painful smile pulled at your lips, “Spencer, that’s not your responsibility.”

“It is.”

“FBI can’t—“

“I’m not talking about the FBI, I’m talking about me.”

You took a shaky breath and wrapped your arms around his middle, burying your face into his chest as you swayed slightly.

“Is it okay if we stay like this for a moment?” you muttered, shifting your weight from one foot to another “I don’t— I can’t sit still, I don’t know why.”

“Do you want to hear the reason why?” he ran his fingertips over your spine up and down, as if trying to soothe you and you nodded.

“Yes please.”

“You feel threatened, so your brain is trying to understand where the danger is coming from. It’s telling you to either stand or run away, so it’s pumping adrenaline into your system. We call that nervous energy.”

“That could be my stripper name,” you mumbled, making a chuckle vibrate deeply in his chest, “Tell me more.”

“The nervous energy happens when you’re under stress,” he said, “Our primitive brain is used to physical threats and it created this system in order to protect us. The threat you’re afraid of is not here, not physical, but your brain is still sending that energy to your limbs so that you can attack that physical threat, or run away to somewhere safe. It’s all a part of your defense mechanism.”

You hmmed into his chest, still holding him tight as if someone would take him away from you before you sniffled and pulled back to look up at him.

“You know, I think I got something you can’t explain with science.”

He raised his brows, “Debatable.”

“Do you want to bet? If I win, you’ll tell me what you planned for the next date.”

“What if I win?”

You wiped at your nose, “Tell me your price, professor.”

“There’s this conference on smoking and its effects on health next week, if I win you will attend that with me.”

“That’s a very indirect way to say that you hate my smoking.”

“I mean, it’s better if you see the effects in that conference, I think it’ll be good for you. It has five sessions, so it’s around….7 hours, including breaks.”

You blinked a couple of times, then nodded. “7 hours? That’s— okay. Yeah, I’m sure— I’m sure it’ll be fun.”  

A smile pulled at his lips, “Okay,” he said, “What is it?”

“It’s just,” you nibbled on your lip, trying to find the right words, “I was thinking and I realized something. I— I think it’s instinctual somehow, you can’t really explain it with science but when you’re here…” you paused, “With me, I mean, this whole panic dissolves. I feel safe, and it’s so unfamiliar that I don’t—“ you let out a small laugh, “I don’t know how to deal with that. I normally don’t feel safe, ever.”

A small smile pulled at his lips and he tilted his head, his warm gaze focused on you. You scrunched up your nose.

“Don’t tell me science can explain that.”

“Oxytocin.”

“God damn it!” you exclaimed, making him laugh, “Oxytocin?”

“Yeah, oxytocin. It’s a hormone that ensures that you trust people along with everything else. Basically, your brain— when you’re attracted to someone, your brain releases dopamine, so your serotonin levels rise and it produces oxytocin. It’s a big part of romantic attachment, it’s released during sex as well.”

You arched a brow, a small smirk flashing over your face and he pressed his lips together, a look of mischief appearing on his face.

“It strengthens fidelity as well,” he explained, “Seeing your partner as more attractive than others, and preferring to interact more with your partner than strangers.”

You clicked your tongue, “7 hours of conference, here we come.”

“It’ll be fun, I heard they’re bringing a real lung.”

“Can’t wait,” you muttered and entwined your fingers with his, “Well for what it’s worth professor, I have a lot of oxytocin for you.”

He cleared his throat, “Scientifically, one of the most important aspects of it is reproduction, in females it triggers labor and in males it moves sperm so having a lot of oxytocin can be—“

“Spencer, I’m trying to talk dirty in a scientific way!” you groaned, a fire spreading over your face because of embarrassment and you took a step to walk away from him but he grabbed your hand to turn you around and tug you closer to him, making you let out a whine.

“I feel like an idiot,” you murmured and he shook his head fervently,

“No, of course not,” he said, pushing your hair behind your ear, “Hey. I don’t know anything about weddings. So we complete each other if you ask me.”

You scoffed a laugh and looked up at him, your brows furrowed together, “You really think that?”

He nodded and you heaved a sigh.

“Okay.”

“And…for your information,” he swallowed thickly, “I have a lot of oxytocin for you too.”

A giggle you couldn’t stop escaped from you as he leaned in to capture your lips in a kiss, making your stomach do a pleasant flip. You wrapped your arms around his neck, your lungs full of his scent, making you dizzy.

“They’ll take away your doctorates for that joke, professor,” you breathed out as he pulled back, resting his forehead on yours while you raked your nails over the back of his neck gently.

“Worth it,” he murmured to your lips, leaning in to kiss you again, this time pressing you closer to his body and your heart started beating in your throat, a whine climbing up to your throat, desire filling your system faster than any other drug.

“Would you like to stay the night?” you whispered, and his eyes shot up to yours, both of you aware what you were really asking. He looked almost hypnotized by the sight of you in his arms and he blinked a couple of times, as if trying to focus before he nodded.

“Are you sure?” he asked, his voice hoarse and you took a shaky breath.

“Yeah,” you managed to say, your whole being consumed by this moment. “Yeah, I’ve never been more sure of anything.”

You could swear he could hear your heartbeat echoing through the room,

“No scientific explanation this time, professor?” you whispered against his lips and his fingers caressed the sensitive skin of your neck, sending a pleasant shiver from there to your whole body.

“No,” he murmured, leaning in to brush his lips against yours, “Not this time. Not for the lady who imparadises my mind.”

The lady who imparadises my mind.

That was how Dante described Beatrice in Paradise.

You stood on your tiptoes to pull him into a kiss, then tugged at his hand to lead him into your bedroom.

Chapter 15

[leatafandom]

I posted 4,954 times in 2022

That's 1,947 more posts than 2021!

118 posts created (2%)

4,836 posts reblogged (98%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@rich-a-day

@idabbleincrazy

@ldrmas

@datajana

@quicksilver-castiel

I tagged 2,865 of my posts in 2022

Only 42% of my posts had no tags

#sam winchester - 291 posts

#sabriel - 246 posts

#gabriel spn - 146 posts

#❤️❤️ - 129 posts

#🤣🤣 - 107 posts

#spooky season - 95 posts

#richard speight jr - 88 posts

#amazing - 76 posts

#gabriel - 76 posts

#dean winchester - 62 posts

Longest Tag: 123 characters

#i try to be a detective and then realize its 5 in the morning and ive been trollif tumblr for hours so not a good reference

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Sabriel - jamming out to the radio at midnight? What are they listening to ????? (:

Absolutely dear! Thanks so much for the ask, I’ve honestly been having a bit of writer’s block so it was really fun to write something this weekend! I hope you enjoy it. It took a bit to pick out the songs but I just couldn’t help myself with the first one. I ended up going with two: Heat of the Moment by Asia and Never Wanted to Dance by MSI. I love picturing some stress relief dancing fun for them. Happy reading! I hope you enjoy it and thanks again!❤️

Tags: established relationship, comfort, fluff with a little angst, date night, late night dates, music, night drives, singing and dancing, Sam Winchester needs to have some fun

Summary: Sometimes Sam gets lost in the cases and the hustle of all the new hunters in the world. Sometimes he forgets to breathe and remembers to have fun. 

Dancing in the Dark

"Come on, Samalamb." 

Sam tilted his head away from his laptop screen, combing his hand back through his hair, and looking at Gabriel's outstretched hand and then the archangel attached to it.

"Gabe, I'm busy." 

"No, you're not." The blonde shook his head, his hand staying outstretched between them. "You're getting nowhere." His lips twisted in a grimace at his own bluntness. "Come on, Sammich, up up up. Come and stretch those gorgeous gams with me."

Sam released a wearily chuckle before sighing. He sat back in his chair, his eyes roving over the books and notes scattered for three different hunts around him, wondering what time it was, before landing back on the archangel's mischievous amber eyes. The taller man narrowed his own eyes, scrutinizing the archangel's expression. The archangel impatiently bounced his brows and grabbed Sam's arm when his lover stared just a hair too long and hard at him, the teasing action startling a laugh from Sam's lips. 

"Jeez!" Gabriel groaned, wrapping his hand around Sam's, pulling him from the chair he'd been in all day. "Come on, like I'm trying to lure you to your death." 

"It would not be the first time…" the brunette grumbled under his breath, giving into his partner's grip. 

"Oh ouch Sammoose," Gabriel huffed, feigning hurt. “You know, maybe I just wanna fuck."

"If you wanted to have sex…" Sam's words faded as he rose from his chair with an exaggerated stretch that felt better than it should. "Then we'd already be in our room," he added around a groan when his spine popped. 

Amber eyes couldn’t resist the shift of Sam’s muscles under his clothes. His eyes snapped back to Sam’s smug smile and knowing gaze when the long arms dropped from above Sam's head to swing at his sides. 

"Also very true," the archangel admitted without hesitation, his fingers interlocking with Sam's before leading him from the library and towards the garage. 

"Where are we going?" Sam questioned, self-consciously combing his fingers through his scraggly beard, wondering if he could sum up the energy to shave.

"A drive." Gabriel slipped his hand into his pocket, fishing out a set of keys before tossing them over his shoulder to the bruttnete. 

"A drive?" Sam asked as he fumbled for the keys, juggling them before securing them in his hand with a raised brow. 

"Driving relaxes you," the shorter man replied casually. "So,” his eyes looked about the garage as they entered it, avoiding looking at the hunter behind him, “we're going to drive somewhere." 

Sam felt something give within his chest, squeezing his hand around Gabriel’s, his eyes roving over the blonde. Whiskey eyes were focused elsewhere, ignoring the soft expression the other was surely giving him from behind, focused on guiding the taller male towards the truck that matched the keys. The brunette looked away from Gabriel towards the keys in his hand as they stopped in front of an old pickup, a smile teasing on his skeptical lips. 

"And where exactly are we driving to?" 

"Somewhere," Gabriel sang with a grin, pulling him down for a kiss. 

The blonde pulled back with a wink, turning from the tall hunter to slide into the passenger side of the old pickup truck. Sam rolled his eyes, his lips pulled into a frown that was threatening to crack into a smile. 

“You’re ridiculous,” Sam said around a sigh, opening the driver’s side door and taking his seat. 

The archangel laughed, smiling as he rolled down his window before bending over the brunette’s lap once Sam had closed his door. Sam shifted under the archangel’s reach as the other rolled down his window. 

“We have fun!” Gabriel beamed, leaning back from between Sam and the wheel before scooting closer to Sam’s side as the tense human started the engine with a chuckle. 

The late summer air, which smelled of grass fields and fresh rain, was more relaxing than Sam would ever admit. The more they drove the more the hunter was grateful for the fresh breeze that rolled through the cab. The breeze carried the music that had his fingers tapping along to the radio and his partner’s singing. Throughout the drive, Gabriel sang along with the radio getting Sam to join in and inserted directions at seemingly random moments. 

With the archangel’s choice in stations and dancing beside him, Sam easily let the stream of endless hunts fall from his mind and the worries that waited further and further behind them. The sound of the truck’s rumbling engine and Gabriel's warm wiggling body beside him soothed his worried mind. Sam's tense broad shoulders relaxed and leaned back, his right hand had long found the archangel's somewhere along the drive and squeezed the archangel's hand. The hunter leaned closer to the shorter blonde on the cushions of their seat, singing along with Gabriel’s jovial tone to the pop song as they drove down the dark back roads that surrounded the bunker. 

"Right up there, and you'll see it." Gabriel's hand squeezed his, a smirk tugging on his lips. 

See the full post

23 notes - Posted September 3, 2022

#4

"The couple's first morning together was spent in relative ease. Gabriel relaying his plan to take Sam into the sleepy town not far from the cabin before their hike over breakfast. A town which the archangel had introduced with flair as they bundled up in their winter gear as new.

Sam rolled his eyes at Gabriel's dramatics regarding the small town down the mountain as they walked out of the door. He narrowed his eyes, pulling out his phone as he followed Gabriel's confident stride. Sam fell into step beside the archangel as he looked up the small town's founding on the long walk into town from Gabriel's house.

Sam huffed. "Gabriel," Sam rolled his eyes, turning his screen towards the archangel. "1838 is not new."

The archangel's arms swung gently back and forth at his sides. "It's new, Sammy," Gabriel said with a dismissive roll of his eyes, not bothering to look at Sam's phone.

Sam looked back down at the article. "It's not even a town! It's a village," Sam added, looking back at the shrugging archangel.

Gabriel turned to him, squinting at Sam in the morning light and his moose decorated and fur-lined ushanka. "Fine, it's a new village," Gabriel snarked, waving his left hand in the air between them.

"No." Sam shook his head, looking around the wooded path. "No, I don't care if you are as old as time, the 1830s is not new."

Gabriel scoffed, his head snapping to look at Sam. "I am not as old as time!" He huffed, his left hand gently swatting at Sam's bicep.

Sam laughed, raising his hands and bending away from Gabriel's playful wacks. "Fine," Sam relented, pushing his phone and hands into his coat pockets. "Even if you're slightly younger than time-"

"Jeez, make a celestial feel all his eons," Gabriel interjected with a dramatic roll of his wrist and eyes.

"The 1830s is not new, Gabe."

"The 1830s is new," Gabriel repeated, pointing a finger at him. "Time is relative, Sam-I-am."

Sam shook his head, huffing out a dry amused laugh. "Yeah. Uh-huh. Whatever you say, old man," Sam said around his teasing laughter, turning to Gabriel with a crooked grin as they walked. "Take me to this crazy new-fangled town of theirs."

"Wiseguy," Gabriel said, narrowing his eyes with a grin and checking his shoulder against Sam's side."

Preview from Chapter Seven of Seasonal Healing, Clear Night's and Story Horizons, coming to my Ao3 this weekend.

27 notes - Posted January 26, 2022

#3

Ooh #63 would make a great Sabriel (cuz we just know Gabe is a noisy lil fuck in bed, right?)

Yes! These words were made for Gabriel! I have no idea why this fic took so long to come to me, but I finally give you smut! Thank you so much for the ask and understanding that the muse works in mysterious smutty ways. 😂 Happy Reading ❤️

Rated: Explicit

Tags: smut, anal sex, bet, kissing, on the sofa, hand jobs, plot what plot, Gabriel is a screamer

The Easiest Bet

"This is a stupid bet." Sam sighed, his arms crossed over his chest, as he looked down at his partner as the archangel lounged on the TV room's couch. Sam shifted his stance in front of him. "You cannot hate my movies that much." 

The archangel rolled his eyes, stretching out more across the two-seater. "I assure you I do hate your documentaries that much, Sammykins," Gabriel reassured with a roll of his wrist. "Somehow they are more boring than actually living it. Come on, Sammoose. First one to make a noise loses and the winner gets to pick what we watch for a month."  

Sam shook his head, a crooked smile weaseling its way onto his lips. He ducked his head, looking down. "There is no way you would win that bet, Gabe. You have to know that right? Do you even realize how loud you always are?" Sam asked with a wave of his hand.

"Hey," Gabriel cried, pointing a finger at him and sitting up a bit on the sofa. "I can be quiet if I want to be! Overconfident moose," Gabriel huffed, his lips pulling into a scowl. 

The brunette bit his lip trying to stifle his laughter. "Gabriel, I have spent my whole life living with someone. Mostly Dean," Sam said, tucking his chin to his chest trying to control his amusement. "And Cas normally has to soundproof our room so Dean doesn't have a stroke." He let out a chuckle looking at his partner just as Gabriel rolled his eyes waving a dismissive hand at him. "There is no way you can stay quiet longer than me." 

"I can be quiet, Winchester." The blonde shifted, sitting up fully on the sofa. "Especially if it means I don't have to watch a single documentary for a month." 

Sam sighed, running a hand through his locks, looking to the bunker hallway as he thought about it. "Make it two months," he said looking back at Gabriel with a wide smile, knowing he couldn't talk his boyfriend out of it and that he would definitely win. "I'll do it if the winner picks for two months." 

"Deal." Gabriel's grin widened, his brows bouncing. 

"First one to make noises loses?" Sam questioned, bending down over the sofa and pressing a kiss to the blonde's grinning lips. 

The archangel leaned into the teasing press of lips, his fingers reaching to stroke through Sam's beard. "Yes, Samheart."

Sam chuckled against his lips, pressing the shorter man back into the cushions and deepening the kiss. Gabriel smiled into it, wrapping his hand around Sam's nape to keep him close, parting his lips. The brunette's tongue slid into his lover's mouth as his hands rolled down Gabriel's sides, lifting him with ease and sliding onto the sofa to take the shorter man's space on the couch. 

Gabriel let out a silent gasp as Sam's long arms wrapped around him and pulled him into his lap, straddling him. Large hands quickly slid Gabriel's jacket off before working his shirt off. The archangel bit his lip, breaking the kiss to help take his shirt and jacket off, his hips grinding down on Sam's half-hard member. Sam licked over his lips at the feeling of Gabriel's round jean-clad ass grinding down on his hardening length. He rocked up to him, his hands going to Gabriel's belt wanting to feel him. 

The shorter man's lips were on him again the moment they were free from their shirts, rocking his hips and lifting them as Sam shoved down his pants and boxers. The blonde sucked and bit at Sam's neck, his eyes flashing with grace as their clothes vanished, biting down on the tender clave of skin at Sam's neck to stop himself from moaning at the feel of Sam's hardening flesh pressed bare against him. 

Sam's hips rutted at the feeling of smooth skin against him, his hands clenching around Gabriel's gyrating hips. His eyes closed at the hard bite and the soothing suckling of his lover's lips that went right to his groin swallowing back a hiss of delight. Hazel eyes rolled behind his lids, his hands clenching at Gabriel's ample cheeks spreading them and biting back a moan at the feeling of his already prepared opening. Gabriel shuddered, pressing his face to Sam's neck as he gripped Sam's long cock squeezing him and stroking him in his hand. The brunette bit harder on his lip, holding in a grunt when Gabriel's hand was on him, cursing internally at his lover's perfectly tight grip. 

The archangel pulled back with a smirk, looking over Sam's heaving chest as he stroked him into fullness. He grinned as Sam rutted into his hand before lifting his hips and hovering over the thick member as it throbbed in his hand. The hunter held tight to his hips watching as Gabriel sank down on him, huffing out a heated breath through his nose as Gabriel took all of his length in with slow torturous rolls of his hips. The blonde withheld a whine at the slow pace, knowing any faster and he'd cry out. He bit his lips as his fingers clenched on Sam's broad shoulders only to gasp a breathless silent moan when Sam rutted up into him, forcing the archangel to take all of him with one smooth roll of his hips. 

The blonde's head rolled forward, shuddering at a breath barely containing his cry when Sam held tighter to the archangel's waist, holding him still and burying himself inside of the wet canal. Gabriel shuddered at the easy stretch and burn of Sam's thick shaft relishing in the sudden fullness, wanting to cry out. He held tighter to Sam, determined to be quiet even when the taller man found his prostate. Sam licked his lips, his cock rubbing against the bundle of nerves with his every upward thrust. 

Gabriel clenched around him, biting down harder on his lips as Sam drilled into him, moving with him. Sam panted, pressing open mouth kisses against the smooth sunkissed skin, his eyes rolling at the clenching walls of his lover. His hips moved in tandem with each roll of Gabriel's, the archangel clenching tighter around him with his efforts to keep quiet in the face of the brunette's punishing pace. Gabriel's head rolled, his nails scraping at Sam's shoulders and back, rocking with each of Sam's thrusts, his cock bouncing and aching between them. 

Sam's head went back, not knowing if he could stay quiet with the delicious warmth wrapped around him. He wasn't going to lose. An idea struck him as he watched the archangel bite back his cries. A smirk pulled on Sam's lips, wrapping an arm tight around Gabriel’s hips and pulling from him with a silent gasp. Gabriel couldn't hold back his whine at the sudden loss or the cry that was forced from his lips when Sam bent him over the arm of the sofa. The taller man lined his thick head against his rim from behind him before shoving back inside of him in one long smooth thrust. 

"Fuck!"

Sam let out a low guttural groan, his smile wide as he thrusted relentlessly into Gabriel. "Dumbest bet," he said around a moan, wrapping his hand around Gabriel's leaking cock.

"Goddamnit, your cock feels so good,"  

Gabriel groaned, admitting defeat and sinking fully into the spikes of bliss that racked through his vessel. "Shit right there, Sammy," he hissed. His hands gripped tight to the arm his chest was pressed against, bucking his hips back to him as Sam rocked into him, his head hanging. "So fucking good." 

The brunette smirked his left hand holding tight to Gabriel's hip, losing his rhythm quickly when the blonde let his moans run free. "Fuck, I love your voice, " Sam grunted out, bending over him more and slamming his hips faster. "Love it when you scream for me." 

Gabriel let out a low groan at the heated words as Sam's hand stroked his cock faster. "Gonna cum… Fuck Sam don't stop." His hips rocked between the thrusting length and the tight fist around his weeping member. 

Sam nodded against him, grunting out his agreement as he thrusted into the fluttering warmth around him, cumming with a choked-off moan against Gabriel's back. The archangel's hips jerked as Sam stiffened behind him, his orgasm hitting him hard as Sam's thumb dragged over his wet tip, cumming over his lover's hand with a shout and a curse. 

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28 notes - Posted August 21, 2022

#2

A Little Pick Me Up

Rated: E

Ship: Sam Winchester/Gabriel

Tags: Human Au, shameless smut, prompt fic, established relationship, lazy mornings, blow jobs, Gabriel's just not a morning person

Author Notes: Created for @idabbleincrazy prompt request for characters waking up together “breakfast in bed?" “define breakfast." Look what the muse remembered and finally unexpectedly finished! I hope you enjoy it. Thank you for sending the ask (hopefully I finish the other one soon as well) <3

A Little Pick Me Up

Sam smiled against his pillow, pulling his lover closer. The muffled grumble he received caused a chuckle to rumble free from his chest and his long arms to wrap more securely around the tempting hips. 

"Morning," Sam mumbled, kissing the top of Gabriel's head. 

"Morning is a subjective term, Sammoose." The shorter man’s eyes hesitated to open. Managing only to crack open one when Sam continued to bury his face in the crook of his neck and searched blindly for his phone. "Ugh, Sammy! It's not even seven in the morning." The older man groaned at the time that blazed from his too-bright screen, slamming it back down and closing his eye. 

Sam let out his own huff of frustration at his partner as Gabriel buried himself back against him, twisting around and burying his face in his chest. The brunette knew that the blonde enjoyed his sleep on the days he had off but the college student still had classes and Gabriel had promised to spend the day with him.

“You said you’d come with me today,” he reminded, stretching beside him before tightening his long arms around the curled-up man. 

“Not before seven in the morning, Samwise.”

The taller man rolled his eyes at the muffled reply, releasing a hum when he felt Gabriel’s lazy mouth drag across his bare skin. "Yes, you did. You said we’d carpool and I have a morning class, Gabe," Sam replied, resisting the urge to close his eyes as the blonde’s lips left lazy-open-mouth kisses over one of his nipples before making their way up his chest and over his collar bone. 

“That’s entrapment, lawyer boy,” Gabriel teased as large hands held tighter to his boxer-clad hips, pressing his morning wood against Sam. “I never would have agreed if I had remembered my day off was Wednesday this week.” 

Sam’s hazel eyes closed, pressing closer to him, at the firm outline of Gabriel’s thick erection, and his distracting lips as they traveled over his neck. “You weren’t that tired when I asked.” He countered feeling Gabriel whine against his skin. 

"Too early, Sammykins." He rebutted weakly, leaning back to look up at Sam, rolling his hips tantalizingly. "Where's my pick me up, Winchester?" He questioned with a wide grin, running his hand up Sam’s flexing arm and squeezing his bicep. 

"Seriously?" Sam’s head tilted back slightly with his laugh, unable to resist the press of Gabriel's clothed length against him. 

"Yes, seriously. You know I don't function this early without a little something, somethin’," Gabriel said with a yawn that may have been fake. 

The brunette sighed, laying his head in the crook of his elbow, letting his eyes wander Gabriel’s body as the blonde stretched. He turned his head, glancing at the time before turning fully back to his lover, letting his eyes rove his barely clothed body.

"Breakfast in bed?" 

Gabriel's eyes glistened with mischief, his eyebrows bouncing. “Define breakfast, Sammy boy."

The taller released a chuckle at his boyfriend’s lecherous smirk. “A liquid one. Where only I eat something.” He hummed as Gabriel wrapped an arm around his neck pulling him closer. 

“Color me intrigued,” Gabriel hummed, capturing Sam’s lips in a kiss before rolling onto his back and pulling the brunette with him. 

Sam released a soft grunt against his lips, pulling back to leave a trail of lazy sucking marks down Gabriel’s chest. The blonde released a pleased hum, his fingers tangling in his partner’s brown hair as Sam worked his way lower. Long fingers coasted over Gabriel’s arching sides before slipping into the rim of his boxers. Sam’s tongue traced slowly over the line of Gabriel’s pubic bone as the older man lifted his hips and pushed down his boxers. Sam pulled back slightly to help free the hardened member, letting his lips graze over the heated flesh. 

Gabriel let out a guttural groan at the first touch of Sam’s soft lips, feeling his tongue dash out to trace the pulsing vein of his aching erection. His hips rolled before Sam’s hand could hold them in place. The brunette stayed beneath their sheets as he dragged his tongue up Gabriel’s shaft, rolling his tongue around his tip before sinking down on him. Slim fingers clenched in brown hair, stopping himself from rutting into the welcoming warmth. His eyes closed as he bit his lip with a curse as Sam sank lower. His toes curled as Sam’s tongue twisted around his base before he pulled his head back.

“Shit,” Gabriel cursed, his hips rolling as Sam’s lips wrapped around his thick base. “I’ll never get used to that mouth, kid.” 

Sam groaned around him, bobbing his head faster on the hardened shaft. Gabriel’s eyes open, pushing back the sheets to watch Sam as he worked his cock. He groaned at the sight of his lips split around his swollen shaft.  

“Wanna fuck your throat, Sam.” 

Gabriel groaned as Sam’s hand shifted, letting go of his hips and letting the man rut up into his mouth with a punched-out moan. Sam held still as his lover’s hands tightened in his hair, his jaw lax against the drag of his lover’s cock against his tongue. The blonde licked over his lips with a breathless moan when he felt Sam’s throat convulse around his tip, his eyes rolling to the gagging younger man. His hips slowed slightly before speeding up once more, trying to go easy on his lover’s throat. Sam held tight to him, his eyes watering as he moaned around the heavy cock. His right hand reached, shoving into his sleep pants and wrapped around himself, squeezing his aching shaft. Gabriel panted, watching Sam’s arms flex to keep himself up and jack himself off. 

“Fuck, Sam,” Gabriel’s head tilted, planting his feet and rolling his hips harder up into Sam’s spread lips. His eyes drank in the sight of his lover working himself and leaking into his fist. “Are you gonna cum just from sucking me off?” Gabriel questioned breathlessly, his eyes fluttering closed when Sam responded by creating more suction around his thrusting shaft. “God, do that again,” he hissed, his hips rutting faster, holding Sam’s head down longer. “That’s it Sammy. Show me how you cum from the taste of me.” 

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30 notes - Posted August 1, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

''you used me as a pillow." ''sorry.'' or “breakfast in bed?" “define breakfast."

Thank you so much for the ask love! I actually had an idea for both but I'm just not really happy with "breakfast in bed" "define breakfast." Maybe I'll post it at some point, it is a Sabriel, but Spideypool completely consumed the first one. It's been so long since I wrote them. I miss them and even as short and angsty it is, it was really nice to find some inspiration for them again.

Heartbeat

A sudden loud thumping roused Peter from his fitful sleep. He groaned, nuzzling his cheek against the kevlar of Deadpool's suit before his eyes snapped open. His ears filled with the triumphant sound.

"Wade?" His head lifted, pulling his arms from around the bulker man, pushing himself up onto his elbows. "Wade?!"

Wade groaned, a grumble sounding from under Peter as the other pushed himself up from the blood spattered man, both still in their suits.

"Not so loud, baby boy. Head wounds are like the worst hangover." His eyes blinked behind his mask trying to remember what they had been doing and where they most likely were.

His eyes roved around the familiar safe house that was more safe than a house. Wade's hand raised to feel over his masked head before raising it to look down at Peter's unmasked face hovering above him and the concern edge in his brown eyes. His eyes roved over his best friend taking in the press of Peter against him and the other's torn suit.

"Sooo. No judgment, baby boy, but you used me as a pillow?"

Peter's eyes widened, leaning back and distancing himself a bit before looking over his blood covered suit. "Sorry," he mumbled, unsure if he was talking to Wade or his ruined suit.

"You don't gotta be sorry, but clarity would be nice." He shifted more, feeling his bones finish snapping back into place. Wade watched him looking over the causal self-consciousness. "You used my lifeless bloody corpse as a pillow?" Wade's voice hitched watching the other shrug.

"I didn't want to leave you," Peter defended, crossing his arms over his chest and looking over the other's damaged suit.

The brunette hadn't really thought about it. He had already been tired after pulling an all nighter and that was before almost being blown up by a giant space squid and dragging Wade back here. All Peter had wanted was to sleep and hear the steady thumping again after falling asleep to silence.

"Everyone was leaving so… I swung us here. And it's not like you have a lot of pillow options." His brown eyes roved around the warehouse turned living area with a wave of his hand before looking back at Wade. "I thought we could hang out after you… woke up." Peter finished lamely, never used to watching Wade die after Gwen.

"Petey?" Wade's head tilted on the worn mattress beneath him, his hairless brows furrowing under his mask. "I'm okay. I'm always okay."

Peter scoffed in disagreement, shaking his head weakly.

Wade shifted, reaching his gloved hand for his cheek. "You can hear it right?" Wade asked, his hand coming up to pull him back down to rest his ear back over his beating heart.

Peter nodded, slowly leaning back to his broad chest, settling back against him. Wade cradled Peter's head as his other arm wrapped around the younger man's back. Peter held tighter to him with a smile, closing his eyes and heaving a deep inhale at the strong unique sound of Wade Wilson's heartbeat.

"Yeah. I can hear it, Wade"

46 notes - Posted July 10, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[d-criss-news]

The Glee star and Emmy winner for The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story, Darren Criss, 34, will be releasing his first album of Christmas songs, titled A Very Darren Crissmas (October 8). It includes duets with Adam Lambert, Evan Rachel Wood and an original song, “Drunk on Christmas,” featuring Lainey Wilson.

What was your goal with this Christmas album?

To reintroduce familiar songs in a new way. But I also wanted to take lesser-known songs and make those feel more familiar. And, most importantly, I wanted to take songs that people don’t associate with Christmas but I do—like Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah”—and try to make them feel like Christmas songs.

What inspired you to write “Drunk on Christmas”?

It’s about the end of Christmas when everything’s been done. There’s wrapping on the floor, you’ve cleaned things, the in-laws have left and there’s nothing else to do. It’s two people having a sit-on-the couch moment, sipping a glass of cocoa with some SoCo [Southern Comfort] in it.

What is it about Christmas music? Why did you want to do the Christmas album?

Christmas or the holiday season is something that, whether we like it or not, we experience every year, and that comes with a litany of wonderful songs and music that again, whether you have been proactive about listening to it or not, it’s pretty hard to avoid. It’s permeated our cultural consciousness for our entire lives. So if you happen to be someone like me who consumes music at a hyperactive level, I’ve always adored Christmas music.

People say this because of the way that it makes them feel and the things that it reminds them of. There are so many layers to why people enjoy Christmas music. It’s nostalgic, it is very romantic, at least in the true dictionary meaning of the word romantic. And to me, I’ve always loved it for a much more anthropological reason, which is for one month or several weeks out of the year we suddenly subscribe to a certain sentiment that the other 11 we don’t really dial into. We want it all, then we want it to just go away.

What makes Christmas songs different?

As a musician I’ve always loved that Christmas music can employ certain musical elements that otherwise aren’t very popular. To me, it’s incredible that without a doubt the estates of many artists are guaranteed placement on the radio even though many of them have been deceased for many years. The pop charts are dominated by whatever contemporary, awesome artists there are nowadays, but in December you can guarantee that Burl Ives and Dean Martin will be on the radio with the best of them. I find that so charming. It’s because people really, really love this music.

And those songs don’t sound like the sounds that we’re hearing on the radio, sonically, harmonically, rhythmically. They employ a lot of “classic” sounds that evoke the feeling of Christmas. I’m a self-proclaimed genrephile—this is a term I use for myself throughout all the stuff that I do. I can’t help but be so enchanted by this idea that artists have license, and by license I mean an excuse to do things that you ordinarily wouldn’t be encouraged to do, or that audiences wouldn’t necessarily be as quick to absorb.

So, when you’re talking about classic Christmas writing, for lack of a better word, you use clichéd Christmas terminology, you use certain chords, and harmonies, and instrumentations that you just wouldn’t do throughout the year. It leans on the slightly more sophisticated, slightly more musical, and that is really exciting for someone like me.

How much does the fact that your last name is Criss play into this?

If you play music and your last name is Criss, every year someone says, “You know what you should do?” as if they’re the first person who’s ever thought of this idea. So I’ve always wanted to do this; it was just a matter of time. And I also didn’t want it to be phoned in, I didn’t want it to seem like, “Oh, here’s some songs that you know already.”

I wrote this in my liner notes that my favorite thing to do with art, but particularly music, is curate, interpolate, create and personalize. That’s my main thing. I’m an OK singer, I’m an OK musician, but what I really think I have a yen for is trying to interpolate something new that people didn’t know before.

If you think about a song like “Jingle Bells,” it was not written for Christmas. It was a song from 200-something years ago that bears no mention of Christmas whatsoever, but we associate it so heavily with Christmas. Lately I hear Leonard Cohen’s “Hallelujah” come up on Christmas playlists. I think it must have something to do with the Christian angle of the song and the reverence of the word “hallelujah,” but there’s no mention of Christmas.

So there’s a lot of different things that can make people feel like Christmas if you arrange it a certain way, and that’s what I wanted to do. I wanted this cocktail of songs that people didn’t know and I might be able to introduce to them in a really new, interesting way.

You duet with Adam Lambert, Evan Rachel Wood and Lainey Wilson. These people couldn’t be more different. How did you select your song partners for this?

Honestly, people are busy, so I leaned on friends of mine. The album is called A Very Darren Crissmas, and I wanted to make it just that. Songs that are very, very me, doing things that are very me, and using the talents of people who are legitimately in my life. Adam has been a pal for a long time. We’ve known each other from just adventures in Hollywood, but he, of course, was on Glee with me. Evan Rachel is a dear pal of mine; we’ve done some things together. She’s played my festival, and I’ve done comedy sketches with her and stuff. These are all extraordinarily talented singers. As I told them when I asked them to be a part of it, “I’d be very lucky to have you on this record.”

I had not met Lainey Wilson before I started this. But when you’re in Nashville, you are in the Olympic tent of USDA certified prime country singers. And that’s a bit of a blind spot for me as far as who’s on the up and up, who’s somebody that can really give a level of authenticity, legitimacy to a more classic ’50s Nashville sound, which is the song that I wrote called “Drunk on Christmas.” My producer Ron Fair, who has been living in Nashville for a while, suggested Lainey and we got on like a house on fire. She’s an extraordinary talent and I was happy to have her. These were all people that were part of this grassroots friend to friend thing. That’s how I got them and I’m very lucky that they’re on the record.

There are hundreds of Christmas songs. How did you choose what to include?

Choosing was extremely hard. I had a list of about 100 songs. I’m not done; this record is only phase one in my mind. There are so many songs that it will make your head spin. If you go, “Did you think about this song?” The answer is yes, and I absolutely had to deliberate which ones I had to triage out of the sequence.

I even said no to “The Christmas Song,” which is on the album. I didn’t want to do it because I was like, “Everybody knows it; it’s perfect by Nat King Cole,” and Mel Tormé [who wrote it] is one of my favorite artists of all time, much less songwriters and musicians. So I was like, “I don’t want to have to do that.” And on the day when we were there, we just had a guitar and said, “Let’s just do it for fun,” because I love singing that song. But I was like, “It’s been done perfectly too many times, I really don’t want to have to put myself up against that.” But we had a nice take, it’s live in the room. And hey, come on, it’s Christmas. So I left it on there.

If we were to come to your house during the holidays, what would you be listening to?

I’d probably sit you down and play you my favorite songs that you’ve never heard that I think are great Christmas songs. But what’s nice is I’ve now put those songs on this album, hopefully, in a perhaps delusional effort to standardize these songs in the Christmas pantheon. There has to be an air of delusion to being an artist in the first place. If one of these songs that no one’s ever heard before catches on with a family or a person and becomes part of their Christmas playlist every year, then I will have succeeded in my efforts.

What did the Emmy you won for The Assassination of Gianni Versace do for your career?

Although the Emmy has just my name on it, the number one thing that I’m most proud of is it’s more symbolic and representative of the work of the whole team. It is a validation and celebration of the really hard work of people that I spent a lot of time and energy with creating this role.

You have a couple voice roles coming up—in Trese and Yasuke—but what are we going to see you in next, not just hear you?

I don’t know. Let me know if there’s any opportunities. A huge reason for why this album was made was because I had the time. Making records takes a lot of time, and I’m envious of people who are just singers. I don’t know how people do that, that’s just not who I am. I’m a producer, I’m a writer, I’m a musician. It takes so much out of me to make a body of music because someone doesn’t say, “OK, here are the songs, show up on a Tuesday, you sing it and then you leave.” Not that there’s anything wrong with that. Some of my favorite artists can do that and are blessed enough to be able to just do that. I can’t.

It takes so much time for me to really get in the weeds, arrange, edit vocals, edit instrumentation, mix tracks, really getting in the jungle of music production. I can’t function any other way and that takes an extraordinary amount of time. Even when there was a global pandemic, I still had deadlines that we could barely make to finish this album because that’s just how my brain works.

So I haven’t been able to act. I haven’t had an acting job in almost two years. That’s not entirely true. I’ve had little bit things during the pandemic, but no big series or films or anything like that. It’s just been mostly working from home and being as proactive as I can be. I started a weekly podcast with a friend of mine, I put out an EP. I’ve been extremely busy with high output and low visibility. I’m waiting for the next thing, but I’m not one to sit still. If you give me time, I’m going to fill all the spaces out. So I did that with music this past two years.

Are you going to go back to Broadway now that it’s opening again?

I don’t want to say anything that is not perhaps confirmed 100 percent, but I will say with full confidence that I have always had the intention of going back exactly where we started. I’ll let them announce what’s happening because every show is in its own unique holding pattern. But, yes, right before the shutdown I was doing American Buffalo in New York, and talk about the actor’s dream, that is right up there. Doing a great American play that I’ve always wanted to do. I’ve had a long history with that show, and I finally get to do it for real with two of my favorite actors—Sam Rockwell and Laurence Fishburne. They are two acting heroes of mine.

So I was in rehearsals for that. We were about to go into tech, and things got shut down. But we’re in a very fortunate position where you’ve got two huge movie stars, you have a very well-known play and you have a fixed set and just three guys. There are musicals that have orchestras, big choruses and huge set pieces, and the overhead and upkeep of these productions is quite complicated. And a lot of them, for that reason, fell by the wayside during the pandemic, and it’s an awful tragedy. But our set and our billboard and our posters are exactly where we left them. It’s kind of a trip. If you go to Circle in the Square, I keep telling people it’s the longest I’ve ever been on Broadway because it’s just sitting there dormant, waiting to be resurrected.

I think all of us are planning on going back. I think the show is scheduled to reopen almost to the day that it was supposed to open in 2020. We’ll see how the schedule ends up, but you have three guys whose heart and soul is the theater. I don’t want to speak for the other two guys, but I’m almost positive that all three of us would rather be doing that play on Broadway than anything else. So when I say I haven’t had an acting gig in two years, it’s been a comfort to know that that was waiting for me on the other end. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that we’ll be able to do it. We’ll have to make sure that everything is hunky-dory with theater audiences, et cetera, et cetera, but that’s the idea.

How did Ryan Murphy casting you in Glee change your life?

I said during my Emmy speech that actors are only as good as the moments they get. I used to say actors are only as good as the parts they get. Take that with a huge grain of salt, obviously, it’s not entirely true. But in context of that moment, certainly you can understand what I meant. Acting is a proactive craft, but in many respects it’s a passive career, where you have to hope and wait for a benefactor, a patron, a supporter to say, “OK, all right, kid, you’re up. I think you can do it.”

I think any artist’s life is a constant compromise between knowing what you can do and what you want to do, and having other people, audiences and creative authorities alike, have an idea of what you can do. You have to have that balance of somewhere in the middle, where hopefully you can rise to an occasion that you know you can do, that somebody’s going to give you the opportunity to do. But you’re not in control of that relationship, and so you have to sit and hope and pray that someone is going to give you that moment and that opportunity. That was something that I’m fully indebted to with Ryan.

Because he did say, “All right, kid, you’re up,” and gave me that shot. We talked about the The Assassination of Gianni Versace: American Crime Story series for years before we did it. I didn’t think he was ever going to do it. By the time we started shooting, he probably mentioned it to me three or four years prior. And I kept asking about it like, “Hey, you still want to do this thing?” I think he was just always obsessed with the fact that I was half Filipino and that I bore a certain resemblance to the guy. Age and everything, it seems pretty spot-on. But he was a man of his word, and he really did end up making it. So I’m incredibly indebted to him and I’ve always been very effusive about that.

Now that you have this modicum of fame, what would you like to use it to accomplish?

For me, there are so many things that I love in this world that I don’t think other people are familiar with. One of the things about having a modicum of a platform is hopefully embracing that to use it as a gateway drug for stuff that people might not be familiar with. I don’t know if they’re going to like it as much as I do, but I’m looking at this track list and there are songs that I guarantee that you don’t know.

These are all things where I go, “OK, I have this moment of people’s attention, hopefully, this is a fun way to have them have eyes on something that I think is deserving of eyes, and not because of me, but because of other people who have made something amazing.” And, hopefully, they have the same proactive curiosity that I had growing up where I look at the liner notes and see who wrote the songs and where they came from. But we’ll see. We’ll see if people have that reaction.

You’ve accomplished so much. What’s the dream going forward?

The dream is to keep doing me, really. I think all you can do is be as true to yourself and try and do as accessible and as valuable work as you can. And, hopefully, in so doing, represent people, giving them visibility and encouragement towards their own place in the cultural conversation.

[drarrily-we-row-along]

Day 11: Pinky Promise

"Is this real?"

Harry practically jumped out of his skin. He'd been sitting on the sofa in the eighth year common room, staring into the fire and trying to ward off the nightmares. He hadn't even heard anyone else walk into the room. "What?" he asked, looking over to see Draco Malfoy, of all people, standing there in his pajamas, face drawn and ashen.

"Is this real?" he repeated.

"Is what real?" Harry asked, looking around to see what he was talking about, unease creeping up his spine. Well, even more unease than he'd already been feeling from the nightmares.

"This," the other boy whispered, sounding terrified, as he gestured vaguely at everything.

And that Harry could understand, he knew what it was like to wake up and not be sure what was real and what wasn't. "Yeah," he said softly. "Yeah, this is real."

"Are you sure?" he whispered, his right hand rubbing his left forearm.

A surge of pity rushed through Harry, he knew this year (the past couple, for that matter) had been hard for Malfoy. And honestly? He just didn't have the energy to hate him any more. "Yeah," he said softly.

Malfoy looked at him, "Do you swear?"

"Yes," Harry assured.

"Would you swear with a wizard's oath?"

Harry nodded at him.

"What's the muggle's version of a wizard's oath?" he asked suddenly. "That's something I wouldn't know," he muttered, more to himself than to Harry.

And in that moment, Harry's (sleep deprived) mind blanked and he blurted the only thing he could think of, "Pinky promise."

(Read more below the cut)

"What?" Malfoy asked blankly.

"A pinky promise," Harry repeated. "You can't break them. Here," he said, holding out a pinky to him. "You just take your pinky," he said, grasping Malfoy's hand and tugging it toward him, "and wrap it with mine."

Malfoy entwined his pinky with Harry's, looking carefully at where their hands were joined.

"I pinky promise that this is real," Harry said dutifully. Then he added, "You're okay," softly.

Malfoy looked up at that, his stormy grey eyes met Harry's and he let go of his finger like he'd been scalded. "I-" Malfoy started.

But Harry just shook his head and turned to look back at the fire, "It's alright. You don't have to apologize or feel embarrassed. Why do you think that I'm sitting here in front of the fire instead of sleeping in bed?" he asked wryly. "It's hard for me too."

Malfoy was silent for a few minutes and Harry let him be, he just stared ahead into the fire and waited. For what he wasn't quite sure.

"Can I sit with you?" Malfoy finally asked.

"Yeah," Harry replied, glancing over at him.

Malfoy sat gingerly on the opposite end, tucking his bare feet under him and wrapping his arms around his thin torso.

"Are you cold?" Harry asked.

"A bit."

Harry scooched toward the middle of the couch and put the throw he'd been using over Malfoy's legs, too.

They were quiet for long moments before Harry asked, "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." There was a brief pause, then Malfoy hesitantly asked, "Do you?"

"Godric, no."

Nodding, Malfoy slipped his hand across the few inches between them and entwined their pinkies once more. Then the two of them just sat there in the quiet, listening to the fire crackle and pop until the sun started to peak through the window. They returned to their beds and Harry tried not to think too much about what had just happened.

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It happened again the next night, and the night after that, and the night following that, and so on. Malfoy stopped even asking and Harry just started reaching out his pinky for him the moment the other boy entered the room.

Sometimes one of them would drift off while they were sitting together and wake with a start, and Harry for one, found it very reassuring to wake to Malfoy's pinky grounding him to the here and now. He wondered if Malfoy felt the same.

Nothing changed for a few weeks until one morning when he came down for breakfast and saw Malfoy sitting by himself. This wasn't unusual, but one look at the other boy and he knew something was off. Malfoy's face was even paler than usual, his shoulder length blonde hair covering up half his face as his fingers clenched and unclenched. He knew those signs, he knew what his body language meant, and so instead of heading over to sit with Ron and Hermione, he moved toward Malfoy.

He sat down across from him and Malfoy looked up, eyes wide, "What are you doing?"

"I pinky promise," Harry murmured and slid his hand across the table toward him, pinky extended.

Malfoy's hand shot out toward him like he was reaching for a lifeline and he wrapped his pinky around Harry's. Harry watched as he visibly relaxed, his shoulders lowering, and brow smoothing out. After a beat he looked up at Harry, "You didn't have to-"

"I know," Harry said, leaving his left pinky looped through Malfoy's right. "I don't mind." Malfoy opened his mouth to say something but Harry continued, "Could you pass the sausage?"

Malfoy's jaw clicked shut and he did as Harry asked. They sat in silence, eating their breakfast and drinking their coffee, fingers still linked.

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Sitting together at meals became habitual, too.

Ron and Hermione moved to join them eventually. They'd asked Harry about it but he honestly didn't know what he was meant to say. He had no idea what he and Malfoy were doing, it just felt like the right thing to do and in some weird way it felt like Malfoy was the only one who understood him.

Having Ron and Hermione join them was completely surreal and Harry had no idea what to say.

Fortunately, Ron started talking first.

Harry had thought it would be weird to talk to Malfoy, and it was in the beginning, it was awkward and stilted and Harry had mentally cursed Ron Weasley for his extrovert nature. But after a few weeks the four of them managed to have what resembled normal conversations.

Malfoy's right pinky often remained wrapped in Harry's left and Hermione and Ron said nothing about it.

The next time it happened out of (what was becoming) the ordinary was in Defense Against the Dark Arts. They'd been practicing dueling when Malfoy's wand had clattered to the ground.

Harry's attention had been, admittedly, divided between his duel with Ron and Draco's duel with Dean before Draco let his wand fall from his shaking hand. Without a second thought, Harry disarmed Ron and sent a tidy little 'incarcerous' to bind his feet as he started moving toward Draco.

Draco was staring down at his shaking hands as Harry approached.

"Hey," he said softly, trying to draw Draco's attention, "Hey, look at me."

Draco looked up at him, eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Hey," Harry said again. "It's okay. You're okay." He offered his pinky to Draco. "This is real," he whispered.

Draco blinked at him and entwined their pinkies together. After a slow deep breath, he nodded once and released Harry so he could go back to working on his dueling.

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It became a habit basically everywhere after that. Harry and Draco became all but inseparable, they started to learn to talk to one another. Harry enjoyed Draco's sharp, dry whit and Draco seemed to enjoy Harry's sarcastic, slightly dark sense of humor. They worked on projects together, started partnering up in classes, started bickering with each other when they disagreed, and even started teasing each other.

Harry had never set out with the intention to befriend Draco Malfoy, but there was certainly no denying it. They'd become rather good friends.

One night, things changed again. Harry awoke with a start, heart pounding against his rib cage. The curtains around his bed were drawn and for a moment he'd been trapped in his cupboard. For a moment, there'd been no way out and there was no one who cared about him.

He kicked off his blankets and struggled out of bed, escaping the room as quietly as he could so he didn't wake up his roommates. He stumbled down the stairs only to find that Draco was already up.

"Hey," Draco said softly, looking up from the book on his lap and lifting the blanket so Harry could settle in next to him.

Harry all but collapsed, pressing his side against Draco's and only then realizing that he was shaking.

"Hey," Draco said, reaching for Harry's finger, "Are you alright?"

Harry shook his head.

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked softly.

He was quiet for a moment, debating what he should say, before the thought popped out without permission. "Are you ever afraid that no one will ever love you?" Harry asked.

Draco's brow furrowed, "Am I personally? Yes. Should you be?" he asked. "No."

"Why shouldn't I be?"

"Because you're Harry Potter."

"But what if I wasn't?" Harry asked, looking over at him. "What if I wasn't the boy who lived? What if I hadn't killed Voldemort? What if I wasn't magical? What if I was just an eighteen year old kid, with no parents, and no prospects? Should I be worried then?"

"Well, setting aside all of those things that make up the reality that we live in, no. You still shouldn't be worried."

"Are you serious?" Harry asked with a huff.

"Yes," Draco replied, putting his marker in his book and setting it to the side so he could turn to look at Harry. "Of course I'm serious and if this were the old you talking to the old me, I'd think that you were fishing for compliments."

"But..."

Draco sighed, "But it's not the old me and I know now that you really don't see yourself clearly at all. Harry, you shouldn't be worried because you'd still be you. You'd still be funny, you'd still be observant when it suits you, you'd still be attractive, you'd still be kind. And most of all, you'd still be good," Draco said, voice soft and sincere. "You'd still be the person who sees trash on the ground outside and picks it up. You'd still be the person who cheers on his friends. You'd still be the person who saw their enemy hurting and reached out a hand to help."

Harry blinked at him. They'd never really talked about this and Harry wasn't sure he was ready to now.

"You are inherently good," Draco said. "You're petty as fuck sometimes and the amount of sass that can come out of your mouth is nearly lethal," he added, eyes sparkling, "But when it matters, you are good. You choose the right thing. You choose to do good."

"And that makes me loveable?"

"Yes. Easily," Draco replied. "It's very easy to love you."

Harry blinked at the casual way he said that. "It's," he cleared his throat, "It's easy to love you, too," he murmured.

"You don't have to say that. I know it's not true."

"It is true!" Harry exclaimed. "It's easy to love how hard working and clever you are. It's easy to love you for the way you've tried to fix hurts you've caused. To love and admire the way you came back when it would have been easier to leave. It's easy to admire the way you care for your family. You're really brave, Draco Malfoy, and I love that about you."

Draco tilted his head at Harry consideringly, "Do you mean that?"

"Yes, of course I do," Harry replied. "I'll even pinky promise that I am telling you the truth," he said, holding out his pinky.

Draco took it and said, "I love the way that you see me."

"The feeling is mutual," Harry replied and butterflies took off in the pit of his stomach. He wasn't quite sure why but then very suddenly, they were leaning toward each other. And Harry would never really be sure who made the first move, but then it didn't matter because he was kissing Draco, one hand cupping his face, the pinky on his other hand clasping tightly to Draco's.

They pulled back after a soft brush of their lips. "Was that okay?" Draco asked, his cheeks flushed a lovely shade of pink.

Harry tucked Draco's hair behind his ear and stroked his thumb over his cheekbone, "better than."

"You're sure?" the other boy asked, searching Harry's face.

"I pinky promise," Harry replied.

Day 10: The Beach | Day 12: Adrenaline

@saumzi Thanks so much for the prompt! I hope you enjoy it!